#every time I listen to this I can’t help but picture benny hanging out with the besties bruh

[the-name-is-loser]

This is such a Bennett, Fischl, and Razor moment

[mediocre--writing]

They’re just sitting there. On the bleachers. Like a pair of basic chicks gossiping in a teen movie. 

Well, it’s an exact description of what they’re doing. Down to the not-so-mindless chat about the boys they were interested in. 

“I mean--do you see the way his hair like bounces when he runs? It practically defies gravity,”

“Yes, I do see that. And if you mention something about his hair one more time, you’re about to defy gravity until you hit the cement behind the bleachers,”

“Harsh, Nance,” Billy tutted as he leaned against the bleacher behind him, “that was harsh!” 

“B, I was obsessed with the guy for like--almost a year, alright? I know how his hair looks when he runs,”

“I know... it’s just gotten a bit longer recently and there’s like this little piece that always hangs above his eyebrow that he blows away and it’s so--”

“Cute? Adorable? Mind-numbingly attractive?” Nancy deadpanned with a pointed glare at Billy. 

“I was going to say endearing, but I like ‘mind-numbingly attractive’ much better,” He gave a classic smirk at her obvious annoyance but enjoyed the view he had of the track team doing their drills and warm ups. 

“What about you, Mr. Sporty? Why aren’t you trying out right there with him?”

“Me?” Billy asked as if the idea of him exercising was a feat unknown to the world. “Oh, honey, I don't run,”

Nancy scrunched her nose at being called ‘Honey’ but rolled her eyes at his statement. “Well you’ve been chasing Steve for so long, it must’ve slipped my mind,”

“And how are things going with you and the stalker?” Billy shot back with a smug look on his face. 

“He’s not a stalker!” Billy tilted his head towards hers, giving a look of disbelief, “He’s the yearbook photographer, it’s his job to take pictures around school!”

“Oh? So it’s his job to make sure he gets photos of you in every class, multiple times a day? For the yearbook, I’m sure,”

“That’s not--” Billy lifted an eyebrow and Nancy accepted defeat, “Fine,”

“I don't see why you don’t just go for it? Corner him in that creepy dark room and get what you want. I’m sure he’s in there right now waiting for you to slam him into the wall and get it on. It’s even got that nice, red mood lighting--”

Nancy slapped Billy’s leg, as he was above her bleacher and leaning back, but, had she had the chance, she would have whacked the back of his head. 

Billy’s loud, bark-like laugh made Steve’s head turn from where he was standing at the start line on the track and stare for a minute. 

“Miss your little Princess?” another boy, Steve thinks his name is Todd or something, taunts as Steve turns back to the track, rather than admiring the way Billy’s gold hair shines in the sunlight.

“Sure,” Steve says, as he wasn’t really paying attention nor felt any need to listen to Todd-whatever.

“Yeah, well I think that Hargrove’s got his claws in her now,”

Steve actually heard and processed that comment, “What?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me that you haven’t noticed that they’re always together. They follow each other between classes and he drives her home sometimes. I heard from Tommy H, who heard from Carol, who’s seen them eating at Benny’s at least five times by now,” 

“I really don’t care,”

Steve, actually, cared very much. 

He could’ve sworn that Nancy had alluded to liking Byers when she’d finally broken it off with him. Plus, she didn’t seem like the type to like her men especially manly. Especially not someone like Billy Hargrove. And, to the best of his knowledge, Billy Hargrove didn’t particularly care for Nancy’s...kind (you know: women).

“He's looking at youuuuu..” Nancy prodded as she poked at Billy’s jean-clad calf and wiggled her eyebrows towards the field. 

“Can you shut up?” Billy grumbled as if he wasn’t turning bright red out of embarrassment. 

“Ok, Mr. Harrington,” she whispered not-so-subtlety.

Billy leaned forward from where he was leaning and swatted playfully at her shoulder, his face turning even more red and eyes practically bugging out of his head. “I will throw you down these bleachers!”

“Why? You wanna save me and show everyone that you know CPR or some shit so you look all heroic in front of your boyfriend?”

“Nancy Fallulah Wheeler--”

“That’s not my middle name--”

“Well you still refuse to tell me your real middle name,” He accused before going back to his threat, “I swear to God that I will tear you limb from limb and kill you and make it look like an accident,” Billy pointed a finger at her with a glare, but it held no real malice behind it.

“Awww, you’re so in love with him, you’re acting delusional,” Nancy cooed. 

“I’ll tell the stalker that you know he’s been taking your pictures since the school year has began and get all the pictures--no--only the bad pictures, and make them posters, then I will proceed to post them everywhere,” Billy had a bright, teasing smile on his face as he concocted a ‘revenge plan.’ “And I'm sure he has at least one of you sneezing. Or maybe the day when you decided to eat clam chowder and ended up wearing it? Don't try me, Wheeler,”

“Yeah, well, what if I just did this?” Nancy smirked evilly. 

Billy sat up to attention. He knew that smirk. Nothing good ever happened after that smirk. 

Nancy stood up on the bleachers and screamed, at the top of her lungs, “STEVE!!” then dropped down as Billy grabbed her by the waist and yanked her to sit next to him. 

She giggled her little heart out as Billy waved at Steve on the track then whispered his murderous thoughts right in Nancy’s ear. 

Steve, albeit confused, couldn’t help but smile at Billy’s little wave of dismissal and obvious embarrassment. It was kinda cute. 

“Yeah, the princess definitely doesn’t seem to like you anymore, bud,” Todd-whatever felt the need to say. 

“Yeah, that’s not who I’m looking at, but thank you anyway,” Steve gave a mocking smile before the coach’s whistle blew and he took off for his sprint. 

[pascalpanic]

Could you write something about submissive Frankie? I feel like he would probably be into Bondage and praise, and he definitely likes getting bossed around and told what to do because he always has to be the one in charge of the boys. He'd definitely be into someone forcing him to stop worrying and trying to be there for everyone.

Let Go (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Frankie needs someone to take care of him too sometimes.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: holy shit what isn’t in here. talk of bad mental health. talk of Frankie’s cocaine addiction, which is in the past. talk of death, specifically of Tom. Smut, 18+ ONLY. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), bondage, lots of dirty talk, “good boy” is used frequently, oral (m and f receiving), spit as lube, titty-fucking, cum eating, dom/sub elements, bottom/subby Frankie, face sitting, p in v sex, uh that should be everything.

A/N: okay I don’t write this kind of stuff that often (bc I’m a mega bottom) but I hope this was okay, anon!!

The boys love to call Frankie mom. Frankie is the one who coordinates the plans, who sets the time and the place, who is always the designated driver because lord knows the other men like to get shitfaced.

Frankie is and always has been a caring man. He doesn’t call the shots, or take the lead. He hangs back and makes sure the other men are okay first. He knows Benny is soft-hearted, more than any of the others. He checks that he’s handling things. He asks Pope if he can head any other smaller tasks. He makes sure they all eat something and stay out of too much trouble.

He’s often the voice of reason too. The men love to cause chaos, and particularly love to make rash decisions. Pope’s leadership makes the other men blindly follow on occasion, and Frankie is always the one to stop and question. Most of the time, Pope finds that he’s right. Frankie has the strongest moral compass of the group.

Out of all the men, Frankie refuses to be cared for. He bundles his emotions away somewhere deep inside and focuses on the task at hand, leaving him to unravel the knot he created of his feelings later. That’s what led him into addiction- it was the support of the other men that helped him once they uncovered the truth.

That’s what happened in South America, in the disastrous events that killed Redfly and left him with a small sum of money for a lifetime of trauma. He came home to find that his wife left him, and it took everything he had not to relapse again.

The men knew better this time, and Frankie was finally so broken that he gave in. He cried into Benny’s arms while Pope flushed his stash down the toilet, while Will enrolled him in a quiet and discreet outpatient rehab.

That was a long time ago now. Frankie returned to his normal place in the team, the voice of reason. They even respect him more now that they know the depth of his wisdom. Then Frankie met you.

You were everything Frankie needed. You brought sunshine and warmth and happiness into the man’s dull and dreary life. He was no longer living from fight night to fight night, but from the time he got to see you until the next. When you finally moved in together, the men all rejoiced too. Frankie’s energy and happiness and mood all lifted, and he was a happier man with you in his life.

For the first time of his life, Frankie allowed someone to take care of him. He allowed you to cook him meals and took naps on weekends, knowing you’d wake him if something happened. You’d shower him with kisses and affection, rubbing his aching back and working out his sore muscles. He works a hard, manual-labor job, and you treat him wonderfully when he comes home.

He loves you, more than he’s ever loved anything. He loves coming home at the end of the day to find you there, loves the way you wrap your arms around him and kiss him. It’s been months of living together and neither of you have ever tired of each other, never lost that excitement of hearing your partner walking through the door after a long day.

Frankie has softened under the warmth of your love, melted like butter from the affection and love you offer. When he’d normally come home and channel his frustrations through his hips and into his hand, he talks to you and tells you what’s wrong. He listens to his friends more carefully but allows their problems to leave his mind when he gets to see you again.

Today has been hard. Frankie had a hard day at work, his supervisors hurrying him around and giving him a seemingly endless pile of tasks. When he finally finished work, he met up with the you and the guys for a beer. All of the men had their own problems to vent about, and Frankie naturally put aside his own frustrations to listen to the struggles of his friends.

Benny’s been on a mean losing streak. Will has been having endless nightmares of their time in South America, which only brought the four men at the table down even further when he told them all of the terrible memories. Santiago was in a mean mood, shooting snappy remarks at the other men and sinking lower into his annoyance. You tried to lighten the mood, but it seemed that no one was in a good mood tonight. The alcohol didn’t change much, only made Benny weeper and Santi more annoyed. You and Frankie left after about an hour, and he sighed as you drove his truck home, removing his cap and running a hand through his curls.

“How was your day, baby, hm?” You asked gently, your hand reaching over to rest on his thigh.

“Bad, but better now,” he smiles softly. Your touch always reassures him, and the both of you know what the image of you driving his truck does to him. “Lots of shit at work. I was hoping the guys would be a mood-booster, but…” he trails off. You obviously know.

“Hey, let it out,” you ask of him, rubbing his thigh and squeezing it gently. “Tell me about it.”

So he does. Frankie tells you a play-by-play recap of his godawful day, leaving out no detail. You frown as you listen, his frustration and tiredness evident in his voice. “So. I left work pissed off.”

“I can tell,” you chuckle, bringing your hand to his and lacing your fingers together. “But it’s over now.”

He nods with a little smile, looking over at you. “It is. I got my girl with me, I have tomorrow off, and we’re headed home, far away from those fucking idiots.”

You chuckle, loving the way he calls you his girl. Something about that nickname makes your heart flutter every time. “I know something that could make your night better,” you offer in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow at him and smiling.

He can read the context. He plays into it, grinning. “Oh yeah? How do you plan on doing that, pretty girl?” He asks, dropping your hand and rubbing your thigh as you drive.

You’re at a stoplight, so you lean across the console with a smile. “Let me take care of you tonight, baby. We need to break in those new ties we got, don’t we?” You ask, bringing your face close to his.

Frankie’s pupils widen with lust as he hears the word. “Oh, yeah, we do,” he breathes out, his pants already starting to feel tighter and tighter. “You sure, baby?”

You nod and smile, kissing him quickly. “You deserve it. I’ll be real good to you tonight, I promise,” you murmur as you press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Frankie smiles. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Frankie baby.”

-

“Is that okay?” You ask him softly.

Frankie’s wrists and ankles tug against their constraints. He can’t move any of his limbs more than an inch before the soft rope holds him back. “It’s perfect,” he nods as he tries each of the restraints and finds that he can’t move. “I fucking love you,” he says as he looks up at you.

He’s the picture of vulnerability, fully naked in front of you and bound to the bed by each limb. His unsurprisingly thick and long dick is standing at attention, fully ready for you. His eyes hold all of his love, and you grin down at him.

You’ve never been the dominant one- not in your social life, at work, especially not in bed. But something about Frankie, about this kind and warm man, makes you desperately want to take care of him. It’s not that you get off on the ties holding him down, necessarily, though the way he struggles against them is a sight to behold. No, it’s the fact that for this moment, Frankie gets to relinquish all of the control and you get to take care of the man who takes care of you so often.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you coo, putting on your best bedroom eyes. It’s easy to slip into this persona for him, in the way he sometimes needs to be the one dominating you. “You gonna be a good boy for me, baby? You gonna let go?”

“Gonna be so good,” he nods, watching your face as you lick your lips and hungrily eye his dick. “Please, baby,” he begs of you.

You nod. “Always such a good boy,” you purr and climb over the end of the bed, settling between his legs and taking his dick in one hand. He’s so thick, you can barely encircle it with your fingers. You give it a slow tug, not bothering to spit into the hand to make it smoother. Frankie loves the friction, loves the way your warm hands move against the sensitive skin there.

“Fuck,” he shudders at the feeling, and you can feel his toes curling against your side. “Please, baby girl,” he whimpers as he looks down, sees your lips hovering just above the tip.

“Okay,” you nod with a little smirk. “Only because you asked so nicely.” Your lips take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and he moans harder at the sensation.

Bobbing your head up and down, you moan around him softly. “You feel so good around me,” he shudders, forcing himself to keep his hips glued to the mattress. “Love your tongue baby. Wish I could grab at your tits right now.”

You pull away and continue to stroke him, chuckling a little as you look up at his flushed face. “I know you love them, baby,” you tease, pushing your breasts up for him to see. “How far can you move your hips? Can you show me?” You ask, a hand rubbing at his thigh.

Frankie nods and thrusts them, showing that he has a small range of motion. He can thrust them just enough up and down.

“You wanna fuck ‘em?” You ask Frankie, swirling your thumb around the tip. “You want me to fuck you with my tits? How does that sound?”

Frankie’s eyes go wide in shock, in surprise and hunger as he looks down at you. “Yes, please baby,” he nods. “Wanna feel it, wanna feel those pretty tits around me.”

You climb up over his body, straddling his strong abdomen and pushing your tits up, holding them in front of his face. “Spit on them,” you command him, and Frankie complies. “Lick them. Make them nice and wet, baby.” He does it, lavishing the soft and delicate skin of your breasts with his tongue, dampening the skin.

You smile devilishly and crawl back down, pushing your breasts together and positioning Frankie’s tip at the bottom. “Go ahead, baby. Come on.”

He slowly thrusts up into it. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, Frankie’s hardened length sandwiched between your tits, but you definitely decide you like it as you look up at the expression on his face. His mouth hangs open in awe as he studies the image in front of him. “Fuck,” he shivers. Frankie has always been a tits man, and this is all too much.

“Yeah?” You ask, licking the tip as it comes up through the soft skin, pressing a kiss to the head. “Go on, baby. You can do it.” You play with your nipples as you hold your breasts there, sighing as you tug at the soft peaks.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he basically whimpers as he thrusts in and out of them, the soft skin driving him crazy. He looks blissed out, absolutely in heaven.

“Good boy, Frankie,” you shiver as you feel his cock twitch against your chest. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard you’re sure he can feel it against the sensitive tip. “You gonna cum like this baby? Here?” You ask him, moving your chest against him. “I’ll let you if you ask nicely.”

His brow furrows as the tip pokes in and out of your cleavage, your wet lips pressing sloppy kisses and licks to it when you can.  “Please, baby, wanna cum in your tits. Wanna see it.”

You nod. “Such a good boy, Frankie. Go ahead, cum all over me.”

He nods and a few thrusts later, he spurts his hot and white cum from the tip, crying out your name. You move your breasts against him, milking him of every last drop. You moan at the sensation, his hot cum against your flushed chest.

When he’s done, you sit back on your heels and Frankie’s eyes are shut. You chuckle a little, rubbing his thigh. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at the mess you made,” you practically purr, leaning forward for him.

It’s too much. The sticky white liquid drips off your tits, splattered all over. You look so fucking hot that Frankie feels himself starting to get hard again. “Fuck,” he shudders, his spent dick twitching and daring to get a little stiffer.

You smirk as you feel it, can practically sense his arousal seeping back in. You’ve always known Frankie has a short refractory period, allowing the two of you to go a few times in a night, but this is something else, something extremely quick and evident of just how much he’s into the moment. “Oh, baby,” you coo and stroke him softly. “Hard again already? You like it that much?”

You can feel him stiffen in your hand. The blood that rushed away with his orgasm is coming back just as quickly. “So fucking pretty. Just want you to fuck me.”

The words go straight between your legs, where the hot arousal has been pooling the whole time you’ve been treating him. “Oh, yeah?”

“Will you sit on my face?” He asks, voice broken. “Wanna taste you.”

Gulping, you want to say no. You want it to be all about him, but you can’t deny how fucking fantastic he is with his tongue, how desperately aching your clit is. “Fine. But not enough to finish. Gotta do that around your dick, pretty boy,” you coo and give his dick one last pump.

You climb over his body until your tits hang in front of his face. “Clean them off,” you order him, and he does exactly that. His skilled tongue swipes off all of the cum, swallowing it as he gathers it. After a few moments, you’re clean. “Good job, baby,” you mumble and scoot until your clit hovers above Frankie’s mouth.

He wants to grab you, wants to pull you down to him. He can’t. He shivers and waits until you finally sink down low enough for him to get to work.

He works at your clit with all of his attention, his tongue lapping against it and sucking on it. “Fuck,” you shudder, leaning against the headboard and propping yourself up with your hands. “Good boy. Doing so fucking good, ah,” you cry out and your head falls forward onto your arm.

He gets harder, you can tell, making soft noises into your dripping folds. He’s so fucking good at it, desperately eating you out.

Before long, you can feel your orgasm approaching. You push up to your knees, Frankie’s face remaining below you. “Oh, fuck,” you shiver. “So good for me.”

“You gonna fuck me now?” He asks, big brown eyes shining.

“Yes, Frankie,” you smile softly and scoot back down his body.

Before you sink onto him, you press your body flat to his and kiss him, softly and slowly. “I love you,” you murmur into his mouth.

“Love you too, pretty girl,” he shudders at the feeling, at the way your tits press to his. “So good to me.”

You have to admit, you sometimes worry you’re not doing it right. You’ve been worried this whole time that you’re not doing what he wants, that you’re being too mean or, god forbid, too gentle. His reassurance makes you feel better.

Sitting up again, you line yourself up over his dick. Sliding down onto him, you bite your lip at the feeling of his thick length splitting you open. “Frankie, baby,” you cry out, your eyes fluttering shut.

You take a moment at the bottom to sit with him inside you, to adjust. It’s all too much, and all you want now is him. “Do you want me to untie you?” You offer, though your voice is absolutely broken.

“Please, baby, wanna feel you.”

You nod and get completely off of him, getting off the bed too. You untie his ankles first and then his hands, which gravitate to your sides. Once he’s free, he pulls you on top of him again. “C’mere baby. You can ride me, but I wanna make you feel good too,” he murmurs, lining you up and thrusting up into you.

You cry out at the feeling again, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Frankie,” you whimper, both at the feeling and how quickly he returned to the one in power.

His hand lowers and circles your clit. “There,” he nods, kissing your neck. “Now ride me, please.”

You nod, beginning to bounce up and down on him. His freedom gives him more of an ability to grind against you, to thrust the opposite direction of you and make it even more powerful when he pushes deep inside of you.

His fingers work perfectly in time against you, and you can feel the little extra wetness as his precum leaks deep inside of you. His strong hips move in time against yours, lots of quiet and pleasured noises trailing from his lips. “Fuck, baby,” he shudders and presses his lips to yours, kissing you desperately.

You squeal against his lips as his dick finds the g-spot deep inside of you, pressing against it time and time again. “Don’t stop,” you beg and press your forehead to his, your sweat mixing with his own.

“Don’t think I could if I fucking tried,” he breathes, thrusting harder. “Come on, baby. Cum on me, let me cum in you.”

You nod, trying your best to hold out just a little longer. Finally, the cord holding you back snaps and the orgasm rushes through you, making you cry out Frankie’s name as your forehead remains pressed to his.

It’s never happened like this, never with your faces so close and intimate. He watches your expression contort, the pleasure on your face and it absolutely wrecks him. “G-gonna cum baby,” he grunts, holding back.

“Please, Frankie,” you tell him, kissing him for a moment before pulling back. “Fill me, please.”

He bites his lip as he shoots deep inside of you, the pure bliss rushing through his veins as your walls flutter and clench hard on him. He slowly comes down from it and his head falls back into the pillows, swallowing hard.

“Good boy,” you sigh and remove him from inside you before collapsing onto his chest, spent and flushed. “Fuck, baby,” you laugh softly, nudging his chest with your nose.

“I’ve never done that,” he admits, breathlessly, his oxygen just coming back.

“Did you like it?” You ask, your ear pressed to his heartbeat, hearing the loud thumping slow its rhythm.

He chuckles and it makes his chest vibrate. “What do you fucking think?” He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “You’re too good to me, babe. I fucking adore you.”

You smile softly. “I just… get nervous. You know that’s not my thing, being the one to tie you up and take control.”

“I know it isn’t,” he nods. “But I love you even more for being willing to do it. For taking care of me.” He pulls your chin up with a finger to kiss you slowly, lovingly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sigh as you break away.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean celebrate Tessa’s birthday with a big surprise before making a drastic change to their relationship...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Dean, jumping up and down in the driveway as he read over the letter in his hands. 

“Dr. Dean that’s a bad word,” said Emily, the five year old three houses down. Dean slapped a hand over his face as she rode past on her bike, her father laughing to himself.

“Hope it’s good news, Dean,” said Chris.

“Very. Sorry about that,” said Dean, Chris waving him off as Dean jogged back inside. He read over the letter again and looked through the packet. “Alright. As long as you keep a B average or above you’re golden kiddo. You get straight A’s anyways so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean smiled and gathered up all of the documents, getting them together with Tessa’s birthday present. Y/N had tried to tell him that giving away his old iPhone was too much but all it did was sit in a drawer now when it worked perfectly fine. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be thinking about the phone at all once she found out about the grant.

He looked back at the bag on the table and frowned. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, like he was trying to save her sister or their family or something like that. He could have given them the application and had them fill it out. They would have probably gotten it still. Dean knew his letter he’d included didn’t hurt but he didn’t want to be that guy. He was already a doctor, already helped Y/N with a job, already paid for dates and things. It was no issue for him at all and he knew she didn’t care about the money but he didn’t want to rub it in her face that he could help more than she could.

Dean grabbed his phone and called Cas, Sam stuck in some network client thing all night he’d told him. It rang a few times before it picked up, the echo in the background telling him he was on speaker.

“Deano!” said Benny. “Gonna make it over tonight after all?”

“Hey guys,” said Dean, sitting down on his couch. “You got the crew together?”

“Nah, just us and the girls. They’re still out shopping. What’s up?” asked Cas.

“You know Y/N?” asked Dean.

“The girl you’re clearly in love with? Yes we know her,” laughed Benny. Dean was quiet and heard them shift on the other end.

“Everything okay?” asked Cas.

“I think I fucked it up. I think I’m going too far too fast.”

“What do you mean?” asked Benny.

“Tessa, her little sister, she’s in high school and I applied for a grant on her behalf for her college and she got it,” said Dean.

“That’s a problem how?” asked Cas.

“I don’t want it to come off as me trying to save them or anything. I’m nervous she’s gonna get mad at me,” said Dean. His friends were quiet and knew a teasing comment wouldn’t come. “Guys.”

“Tell her you applied on a long shot and a grant is what helped you with school. You’re not saving the day, just sharing a benefit you got,” said Benny. “Shit I wish I’d had someone do that for me.”

“What’s going on Dean? You’re normally the last person to freak over shit,” said Cas. Dean sat back and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Talk to us bud,” said Benny.

“I like this girl and it’s been years and years since I had a girlfriend. You guys know I’m not good for more than a fuck,” said Dean.

“Lisa was a super bitch and you know that’s not true,” said Benny.

“I am in my thirties and I’ve never had a real relationship. I don’t even know how. I’m gonna fuck this up so bad. I know it.”

“Contrary to how often I call you a dick, you are one of the best people I’ve ever met,” said Cas.

“I agree and you know all our friends and especially Sammy would say the same thing. Brother you gotta relax. This girl from what you’ve said and everybody else says, well we ain’t never seen you so happy so stop freaking, go get ready for your date tonight and put some faith in this girl that she’s not gonna hurt you back,” said Benny.

“I didn’t say-”

“Dean, we’ve known you forever. We know when you’re scared. I know most people in your life end up hurting you but take it from us, not everyone will. I got a good vibe from her,” said Cas. 

“Me too,” said Dean quietly.

“You doing okay?” asked Benny. “In general you know.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I’m great now. The past few weeks have been awesome. I think maybe that’s why I keep freaking out over this girl. It’s like, fucking finally, I understand what a good relationship can be.”

“You been to Ketch lately?” asked Cas.

“No, not as a patient. I’m okay.”

“Well still go for a tag up every once in a while for us,” said Benny.

“I know. Never would have gone without you assholes getting on my back in the first place.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Cas, Benny chuckling. “So where you guys going tonight?”

“Monico’s.”

“Fancy,” they both said and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Goodbye assholes,” said Dean, hearing them laugh before he hung up. He sat up and took a deep breath. “Alright. Shower. Shave and fingers crossed tonight goes well.”

Reader’s POV

“Okay, presents before or after dinner?” you asked as you carried in a bag to Tessa’s room. 

“Before, obviously,” she said. 

“Alright, well I know you wanted something really badly this year,” you said. “Why don’t you open the green one first?”

“This feels like an iPhone box…” she said with a big smile. She tore off the paper and grinned. “Awesome! What one is it?”

“It’s a ten. It’s used but in really good condition. I got you a case and extra charger too,” you said. “We can swing to the store and activate it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Y/N, really,” she said. She grabbed the card next and her eyes went wide when she saw the cash inside. “Y/N.”

“It’s your money you gave me. It’s yours. Buy whatever you want, okay?” you said. She nodded and unwrapped a few more small things, a book she’d been talking about, some make up you knew she’d use, a new pair of her nike running shorts that’d been on sale thankfully. You smirked when she picked up the last two presents in the bag. “Alright. I hope these are...suitable for you.”

She tore off the wrapping on one and started to laugh.

“It’s hot pink,” she giggled. “Why is it hot pink?”

“Cause vibrators come in a variety of colors,” you said with a laugh. “I will let you read through the charging instructions on your own and same for the other box. There is toy cleaner because yes you need to wash these things properly and I got some water based lube. Go with water based. It dries up faster but it works better to me. Oh and wash everything like five times before it goes anywhere near anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you actually bought me this stuff.”

“Can’t get pregnant off a toy,” you said.

“Definitely can’t do that,” said Dean, Tessa wide eyed as he popped his head into the doorway. She shoved the boxes back into the bag and he laughed. “I’m a doctor. Sex doesn’t bother me and I think your sister has a point.”

“Oh my God, I forgot he was here,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to,” he said. He stepped inside and pulled out a box from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. She undid the bow and paper, smiling as she opened the box. There was an envelope inside but she picked up the headphones and shook her head. “Dean I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I already know the iPhone must have been yours.”

“You are smarter than you look,” he said. “But I can’t accept your refusal of my present. I have new ones and those never get used and I’m bigger than you so you’re gonna lose this argument one way or the other.”

“I’d listen to him, Tessa. He gets his way when he wants it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Thank you. People haven’t been nice to us the past couple years,” she said. You glanced down to the floor, Dean leaving his arm wrapped around your waist. 

“People weren’t all that nice to me either for a long time,” he said with a nod. “Someday when you’re able, you help somebody else out, understand?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“Open the envelope. This one’s a present to you both,” he said. You cocked your head as she tore it open, reading for a long time before she pulled out a paper and handed it to you.

“Dean,” you said, sitting down on her bed after you’d read it a few times. “Dean this…”

“It’s a grant. It’s very similar to a scholarship. I’m an alumni of Elmdale and the medical school there. Tessa you qualify and so I applied on your behalf a few weeks ago and you were accepted. The grant will cover half of four years of tuition,” he said.

“What does that mean?” asked Tessa.

“It means we will have to pay very little with financial aid,” you said. She was beaming and you shook your head. “You applied weeks ago?”

“After I met you two. This house seemed familiar to me for some reason until I remembered. Y/N I told you someone helped me when I was eighteen?”

“Yeah?”

“I think his picture is hanging in the hall,” he said.

“Our dad?” asked Tessa.

“He got me a job and helped me pay for part of my school. I came here once when I needed his help. Your father was a very good man and it’s clear his daughters are the same. Neither one of you deserves to go through all the pain I did. I don’t want you to. It was no trouble at all to do, I swear.”

“Tessa, I work at Dean’s office as a lab tech,” you said. She turned her head and you saw Dean nod. “I lost my job before. We were scraping by. Barely. We’re okay now but without this grant...it would have wiped out our inheritance. That was for weddings and down payments for houses. We can keep it now...we can keep the house now.”

“You hate this house though,” she said. “I hate this house.”

“Tessa-”

“We can downsize,” she said. “Y/N, every night you stare down at their bedroom door. It’s like we live with ghosts or something. It doesn’t have to be so tight. Do we really need a five bedroom house?”

“It’s not as tight anymore. We’ll talk about it. Let’s go celebrate all the good news,” you said. “I’ve been dying for a Monico’s steak.”

“She seemed pretty happy tonight,” said Dean as you sat on the front porch a few hours later. You hummed and rocked in your seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did I overstep?”

“No. You were the boy in the mailroom, weren’t you. Dad used to talk about you sometimes. Mostly when I didn’t want to do something. He told me some people my age have it so much harder.”

“True. But you can’t compare one person’s struggles to another’s. It’s not fair to either one.”

“Would you sell this house if you were me?” you asked.

“I like that you live close by. I’d miss that. But it’s a lotta house for the two of you and it sounds like a change might be a good thing. You could downsize to somewhere else in the neighborhood and probably bank a good chunk of money for later on.”

“We could.” Dean was quiet, gears turning in his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“My house is a five bedroom too.”

“Yours is also newer,” you said. “And bigger.”

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line but...you guys...could stay there if you decided to sell this place. Temporarily. Or not temporarily,” he said. You stared up at him and he looked away. “Like I said, I’m sorry, I know it’s...I should go.”

“Hey. I’m not afraid of you.” His head turned back towards you and he swallowed thickly. “Tell me another secret and I’ll you one.”

“I think I I’m falling in love with you and I’m afraid I’m going too fast and that you think I’m creepy or weird deep down and I’m up to something when all I really see is me and my brother in you and your sisters places and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts and I know you protect her from stuff she doesn’t even know about. I’m sorry for saying that about the house just now. I’d still like to see you though if that’s okay.”

“I think this is fast too but I also think that part of me fell for you the day you carried her home. You don’t want anything from us. Just to help and it’s not because you pity us or anything like that. If I’ve learned anything yet in life it’s that you don’t know when it’s gonna stop and there’s no use in wasting time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You willing to put up with a teenager, a service dog and someone who has not had a moment to themselves in two years?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” he smiled. You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t like this house anymore. If she doesn’t want it, I don’t want it. Maybe we can do some test runs, stay over for a weekend or two, see if we want to make it a not temporary thing.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“I’m home,” you said on the way back from the store. You’d been staying at Dean’s for two weeks now after a nice couple closed on your old house. So far it’d been great and you were perfectly happy to stay there with him and Tessa for the foreseeable future. “I picked up some-”

“He is not my dad. I am eighteen,” said Tessa as she stormed over to the foyer. You glanced back to where Dean was over in the kitchen and sighed. “I want to go to Paulie’s tonight.”

“Who is Paulie?” you asked as you kicked off your boots.

“A friend,” she said.

“You’ve literally never mentioned him before,” you said, carrying some groceries through the family room and to the kitchen.

“That’s what I said,” said Dean as he peeled a potato at the island.

“I thought I said you’re not my dad so you can shut the fuck up.”

“Hey!” you shouted, Tessa freezing up. “Apologize to Dean.”

“He-”

“We are stable for the first time ever because of him. I trust Dean to make decisions for you when I’m not home. If he said no, then the answer is no. Go to your room,” you said. She grumbled and pounded her feet upstairs. You washed up and gripped the countertop. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy,” he said as he picked up another potato. “Paulie what’s his face doesn’t sound like he wants anything other than in her pants so she can swear all she likes at me.”

“What’d she say exactly?”

“She wants to go over to Paulie’s tonight to hang out with some friends but I overheard her and Hailey talking earlier this week about a party and I don’t need a medical degree to put it together.”

“If she sneaks out I’ll kill her,” you said. You glanced down to Toast’s dog bowl and paused. “Dean what would happen if she drank on her medication.”

“She can’t drink alcohol on that stuff,” he said. 

“What would happen if she did.”

“She could have a seizure,” he said. 

“Tessa!” you shouted. You jogged upstairs and found her bedroom empty. “Tessa!”

The house was quiet and you put your hands on your head. 

“Toast!” you shouted, the dog trotting out from Dean’s bedroom. You immediately ran inside, Dean already upstairs and you saw her sitting out on the balcony in a chair, her face in her knees. 

“Can I…” said Dean and you nodded. You followed him outside, Dean walking over and squatting by her seat. “Tessa, what are you doing out here?”

“I wish I was normal, didn’t have a fucked up head.”

“I got one too,” he said.

“Do you have to take medicine for seizures? No?” she said.

“No but my dad used to beat me up,” he said. She turned and he nodded. “He would try to beat up my little brother too sometimes but I would take the hits when I could. Tessa, you can’t drink when you’re on your medicine. You just can’t.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out and leave Toast behind either. It’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Y/N and I get scared too is all.”

“You just pretend to like me cause you fuck my sister.”

“For the record, I don’t fuck your sister. Relationships are complicated. You might not realize this but I care about you for you. If I didn’t I would not want you in my house, in our house, and I wouldn’t get scared about you going to parties with guys that just want to use you for sex. I give a shit about you Tessa whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t care,” she scoffed. “You feel sorry for us. Nobody on earth would ask two strangers to move in unless you-”

“Tessa you can think whatever you want about me. I’m not your father and I’ll never try to be him. But I sure as shit know how to be an older brother. So be pissed off and be rude and whatever else you want to. I’ve done this before with my own brother. You don’t scare me. The only thing that does is you getting taken advantage of or you getting hurt and Toast isn’t there to help. Someday you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours what the truth is but until then, I’ll be the asshole who doesn’t let you go to parties you’ll get hurt at.”

“You pity us.”

“I’m jealous of you.” She stared at him and you swallowed in the doorway. “Your parents loved you. Mine didn’t. You want to talk about being fucked up? I’m here anytime.”

She nodded and he sat up on the bench with her. You went inside and finished preparing the potatoes, mashing them up and saving them for later. It was nearly ten by the time you heard the stairs creak and Dean walked down them.

“Y/N,” said Tessa. You got up from the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, Tessa glancing down. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted today and treated Dean lately. I was…”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back.

“I was scared when we moved in here a few weeks ago. I don’t want to lose you too and Dean takes up time that it used to be just us and I know the accident wasn’t my fault but I feel guilty still sometimes and I know your life is different because of it too and I want you guys to be happy, I do. I just get scared you’ll forget about me. I don’t wanna be alone. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t ever have to be alone, Tessa,” you said. She nodded and looked up at Dean.

“I know. I was silly. But I’m better now,” she said. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said.

“I know,” she said. 

“Why don’t you head to bed, Tess. Tomorrow I can come to your session with you like we talked about,” said Dean. She nodded and walked upstairs, Toast trotting into her room. You walked upstairs and into your bedroom with Dean, shutting the door after yourselves. “I should have...change is difficult on kids with PTSD. I should have realized that’s why she’s been so snippy. I thought it was just hormones.”

“Probably both,” you said, climbing onto the bed. He lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “You care for her.”

“You two are a package deal, sweetheart,” he said with a light chuckle. “Can’t love one without loving the other.”

“Like you and Sam,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

“Me too.”

“Is Tessa okay? You guys talked a really long time.”

“She was afraid I would replace her, push her out. Granted I do like spending alone time with you and everything but she needs you and I’m not here to take you away from her. I think she understands that now.”

“Dean why haven’t we had sex?” you asked. He sat up and you shrugged. “We’ve dated nearly three months and you don’t even try to cop a feel. For how fast certain things are between us, that one feels a little slow. I just want to understand. I don’t...I’m not saying it’s a problem I just want to know.”

“You asked me on our first date, or you made a comment, that I don’t seem like the shy around women type.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t use to be. A smidge, especially if they were the one that seemed to be controlling the situation but it was always good. I had some girlfriends, had some hookups. More than my fair share of hookups. The girlfriends…”

“The bitch one?” you said, getting a chuckle out of him.

“I stopped thinking I was relationship material for a while. So I did hookups for a long time and that was good. Until about two years ago. I haven’t had sex since.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I just...I asked her to stop and she didn’t.”

“Dean she hurt you.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said. He put his back to you and you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know we sleep in the same bed and…”

“And I don’t need to have sex with you. Would I like it? Sure. But my sister and I aren’t the only ones in this house that need to be taken care of. You’ve done a really good job of that lately and I’d like to start pulling my weight in that department. When you’re ready for sex, you tell me, otherwise, I will just cuddle you real hard until then, okay?”

“Alright,” he said quietly. He reached behind himself and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his neck, Dean taking slow breaths. “I don’t really know how to let someone take care of me though.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you said. “Like maybe with you being little spoon tonight.”

“Alright. I can try, sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[green-socks]

Hungry Eyes chapter 5

Pairing: Benny Miller x OFC (Dirty Dancing AU)

Summary: Dirty Dancing but Benny is Baby and the dance instructor is a female OC, Jolene. Benny goes to a holiday resort with his family and somehow ends up spending his time dancing and falling in love! This part is practicing the famous lift and like Eye of the Tiger training montage type moments.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: None.

Notes: This fic is my own little world where I go when I need to. What you see on paper is only a bit of what happens inside my head, but it is what it is. I try. Inconsistent af about posting this bc my muse is a very "it's for me to know and you to to find out" type of gal, so I just follow her lead. Right now she's saying dance, Benny, dance, so he dances. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4 | MASTERLIST

The next few days continued with more dance lessons whenever they could.

Benny had experience with working out. A lot. He pretty much did that for a living, after all. So he knew he shouldn’t get frustrated when some new bit of information didn’t immediately stick to his mind. And yet it was hard to keep himself from stressing out, because there was a time limit, and he didn’t want to let Jolene and Patrick down.

They had the steps mostly down already, now it was about getting the routine to look like dancing- tying the steps together as fluid movement. Jolene kept saying that it was about the feeling, but Benny was having some trouble with that. It wasn’t easy to try and express feelings while all his brainpower went to focusing on remembering where to step and where to look and what to do with his hands at any given moment.

On the fourth day of practice Benny finally started letting loose, and he noticed he was actually having sort of fun with it. They had had a whole lesson on how to feel the music and let it guide you as much as your muscle memory. Apparently, the music told when there was room to breathe and where to be precise and hit the right accents. Jolene made him practice same bits over different songs to make him focus on the different beats. Once he got the feel of that down more, it became easier to make the whole choreography flow better.

Patrick also came in to help them practice and fine-tune the performance, since he knew the part better than Jolene did. Benny had some trouble with turns and keeping his form at first, but his fight training combined with Patrick’s tips helped with those. Some parts were truly starting to go well, and it was beginning to come together. They were extremely sweaty and exhausted all the time, but happy to be making progress. Benny’s legs were tired, arms tired, feet blistered - “dancer’s feet,” Jolene told him - but despite all that he was having a great time. He thrived on the challenge and physicality of it all, it made him feel alive.

He did still feel guilty about spending less time with his family, and instead spending late nights working on the choreography and occasionally popping into the entertainment crew’s parties. Most of the crew had really taken a liking to him, and even Patrick was slowly warming up to him. Only Jolene was still a closed off, not really volunteering anything personal about herself outside of the dancing they did. They still got along fairly well - they understood each other. They both had a strong work ethic and their teamwork got results.

But their teamwork wasn’t always smooth sailing, of course.

One of the parts Benny was struggling with was a serious and tender moment in the beginning of the choreography that required them to be very up close and personal. He couldn’t stop snickering and making jokes or just bursting out laughing and not doing it properly. Jo got annoyed at him for that, because she thought it was a stupid thing to be stuck on, and she had felt a little like he was somehow mocking the choreography, making it seem silly. But the truth of it was that Benny was a bit afraid of how intensely he would feel things if he let himself be completely serious and truly try to live the moment, be vulnerable. He didn’t know if he could keep his emotions in check.

-

There had also been a small argument on the fifth day when Benny had complained about a part he didn’t like in the choreo, and Jolene was having none of his sass. The frustration and stress had started getting to her, and she had snapped at him about not taking it seriously enough and not learning quickly enough.

And Benny had bit back, “Hey, I’m doin’ this just to help you and your friend! And we haven’t even tried to go through the whole thing yet, we haven’t practiced the lift at all, so how do you expect me to get it all if I can’t have the full picture?!”

Jo had seethed at him, breathing heavily for a moment, until she had said, “Fine. You have a car?”

--------

That’s how they had ended up borrowing Benny’s brother Will’s car to drive to a place where they could practice the troublesome lift.

Jo had most of the day off, so she decided now was a good time to go and work on the lift, since it would be best to practice it outside the resort. Benny made jokes and laughed at her when she had to adjust every setting on the seat and mirrors of the car to suit her much shorter frame. Jo was used to hearing jokes about her height but somehow, she didn’t mind them from Benny. She found herself surprised at how easy she felt in his company, the argument from before long forgotten already. With the radio playing and both of them joking around, she started driving toward a secluded beach nearby.

Jo noticed that it was much easier to talk with him now that they were alone together and removed from the context of training for a moment. She found herself opening up about her background in dance, how she had started and how her dream was to open her own dance studio someday. She also told him about her family, how she didn’t see them often because her younger brother was in college far from her and her parents had retired and moved to Australia. Benny was a surprisingly good listener, letting her talk and asking questions, seeming genuinely interested in her. Before she knew it, they reached the destination.

-

Under normal circumstances she would have started with some balancing and trust exercises, but they were past trust exercises, and Benny’s fight training meant he had great balance, so she decided to jump into the thing itself right away.

“Okay. We’ll just- go for it. I’ve shown you the video of what it’s supposed to look like, I’ve shown you where you’re supposed to put your hands and everything. We’re good to go, right? Or do you have any questions?”

“No.. I think I know what to do in theory, at least..” Benny says, rubbing his beard nervously.

She took a deep breath. Okay. There was nothing to it but to just try, it would be fine.

But after tumbling down to the grass a few times Jo realized it wouldn’t work, because they were both holding back for fear of falling. She was afraid of Benny not being able to lift her and then hurting him when he had to bear the brunt of the fallings. And Benny in his turn was scared of hurting her. There was also the added difficulty of their height difference - Benny would have to lift with his legs a lot more, and she would have to adjust a lot from what she was used to with Patrick, too.

So, they would have to make sure the fall was less scary..

“What if we get into the water? It’s safer to fall down there at least,” she suggested.

“What? You serious?”

“Yeah! What, you scared or something?”

Benny rolled his eyes at her childish taunting but shrugged and started taking his shoes and shirt off.

When she had first met him a few days ago, she had dismissed him as just some random dude crashing their party - a seemingly pleasant dude, sure, but nothing special. But now, given the opportunity to admire his back and arms without having to focus on being a dance instructor first, she couldn’t deny the view was very.. inspiring. She had seen him shirtless before because they did work up quite the sweat dancing in the summer heat, and the guy seemed very comfortable with his body. It was different, though, in this new environment and this new, more relaxed energy between them. It was a nice change of pace, truth be told.

Benny started opening his belt and Jo stopped in her tracks.

“What are you doing?”

“If you wanna deal with my brother when we return his car with the seats all wet, be my guest, but I learned to not get any fluids on his car seats when I was sixteen,” he said seriously, shaking his head while pulling his jeans off.

“…You know what, I’ll take that chance. I’m keeping my shorts on,” she said, thinking of the not-covering-much-at-all underwear she had on.

“It’s totally fine, I have a hoodie you can sit on. Plus, he wouldn’t even know how to be mad at you,” Benny smiled.

They got in the slightly chilly water, Jo determinedly not looking at Benny until they were deep enough.

-

“Alright, let’s try again!”

The added support of the water was a big help, and after a few tries they managed a perfect lift for a moment until Jo lost her balance and dived into the water.

“Yes, yes! You did it! That was so good!” Jo shouted after she resurfaced. “I lost my balance, but you did it!”

Benny’s eyes seemed to light up, and the next few times he tried even harder. Jo had noticed during practices that Benny was good at following orders when working out, and that he responded to her stricter coaching really well. But she had also noticed that when she praised him, he seemed to get an extra boost of energy, and usually performed even better after that. It was as if the hard training kept him focused and sharp, but a few compliments helped free his creativity more. She wanted to keep the compliments genuine though, and not overdo it.

They still ended up underwater more often than not, but they were starting to get the hang of it at least. They were both tired and had wet hair plastered to their faces as they stood there catching their breaths before a new try.

Benny brushed his hair back from his eyes in the way men do in commercials and Jo found herself staring. He looked unreasonably good like this when she was sure she was a total mess. His blue eyes were shining brighter than the water, and the droplets on his chest made her eyes follow their trajectory downward. Oh boy was she staring. How to stop, though?

“Hello?” Benny’s voice was trying to pull her out of her thoughts. “Jo?”

That was the first time he had called her that, and not her full name. She lifted her head to meet his gaze again, and she was sure her face greatly resembled a tomato.

She didn’t know what to do to save the situation when she was so obviously caught ogling. So she splashed him.

Benny spluttered. “Oh, really? That what you wanna do?” he asked with a big grin.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jo said, and splashed him again.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna regret that,” he laughed, and started swimming after her.

Then it was a mess of screaming, laughing, splashing, trashing, and wrestling in the water. Jo was breathless from laughing and the exertion, and she couldn’t remember having that much fun in weeks. She was no match for Benny’s strength, though. He caught her, lifting her up and threatening to throw her back in the water. (Which was essentially what they had done all evening, but this was a different situation entirely.)

“I surrender, you win!” Jo managed to shout out through her giggles.

“Hah, told ya!” Benny gloated as he lowered her back to stand on her own legs.

Suddenly it hit Jo how near each other they were standing, and how very little clothing each of them were wearing, especially Benny. And this was no training situation anymore.

She cleared her throat, avoiding his eyes. “One more go with the lift?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

But the sun was already setting, and it was getting chilly, so they only tried a couple more times before calling it a day.

-

They drove back to the resort, Jo sitting on Benny’s hoodie to protect the car like he promised. The radio was playing again, both of them still making jokes and talking, but this time there was also a different kind of tension in the air. Tomorrow they would have time to practice a little during the day and then it would be time for the performance. But Jo wasn’t sure the tension she felt was just performance jitters.

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

tagsies: @writeforfandoms @starlightmornings @lorecraft @niki-xie@salome-c @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @sgnjimmy @marvelousmermaid @velocibee @killyspinacoladas

[hawkinshellfire]

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 13 - Enchanted

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

Walls of insincerity

Shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when I saw your face

On the drive back from the cottage, Joyce stares out the window at the passing countryside and sighs. “Do we have to go back?”

 “I thought you were looking forward to starting your new job?” Hopper smiles. 

 “I am. But…”

 “One more year Joyce, then we’re outta here!”

 “Yeah?” she states softly, eyes still glued on the passing greenery.

 “Yeah. The moment we cross that stage and grab our diploma’s we’ll hop in the car and drive down to the California coast. You can study art at some big fancy school and we can get a house with a view of the ocean.”

 “Did you win the lottery and forget to tell me about it?’ she chuckles.

 ‘I’ve been saving. Besides, with my scholarship money, we’re set.”

 “Maybe I should get a job that pays more than the library,” she muses out loud. 

 “Absolutely not. You were so excited when they offered you that job. Besides, I’m excited to come and visit you at work.”

 “You plan on checking out books?”

 “I plan on checking you out,” he smirks. 

 Joyce laughs softly and continues to gaze at the passing land. One more year. 

.

.

 Semi-buried beneath her covers, Joyce pinches her eyes shut as the sound of her parents' voices fill the house. They’d been arguing for well over an hour. About what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she refused to leave her room and get involved. 

 She finds herself watching the dust dance in the sunlight streaming in through the window. The sun was just beginning to set, painting her walls in a pale shade of yellow that provided her with a strange sense of comfort. Watching the dust flit across the empty space in front of her, she thinks that a life lived in warm yellows must be one of comfort. California would be yellow. 

 Joyce closes her eyes and dreams of salty air and a house by the sea. She can see it all so clearly. A lone chair sitting near the window bay, the sandy shore stretching out in front of the glass pane, the sun warming up the room and washing over her face, a familiar sense of comfort becomes her. 

 She’s reading, as she so often does on Sunday evenings. With her book in her lap and a warm cup of tea on the table next to her, she looks around the living room of the house she and Hopper so effortlessly decorated and smiles. A few of her paintings are hung on the wall, something Hopper insisted on doing the moment they were dry. Next to them, his record collection and a few cookbooks. She can hear him in the kitchen, clanging pots and pans as he prepares their meal. 

 This was their Sunday routine. She would read silently in her corner of the world while Hopper scurried around and made them dinner. Sometimes, no words were exchanged. They moved in tandem, slowly enjoying all that their lives together had to offer and for a brief moment, the world stood still. She never craved the business that came with Friday night football or the weekly grocery trip they took to the market on Saturdays, but she craved the way the world stood still for them on Sunday. 

 Life was simpler here. People were kind and welcoming. She didn’t have to fall asleep to the sound of her parents fighting, or prove herself to girls she didn’t care about. 

She and Hopper had built an entire life for themselves and it was more than she ever could have imagined for herself. 

 Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she stares out at the sandy shore and the sunny sky and draws in a deep breath before going to join Hopper for dinner. 

 The sound of something shattering breaks Joyce out of her daydream. Sadly, she takes in the bland walls of her bedroom and lets herself cry. She cries until she falls asleep, telling herself that she only has one year to go. 

 .

.

 Across town, Hopper is working out in the yard when he hears his parents arguing about something through the open kitchen window. He places his weights down on the grass and approaches the window, where it becomes clear that his parents are arguing about the letter he recently received in the mail. 

 His father had been so proud the day Hopper returned home from the cottage, hoisting the letter into his arms and exclaiming that it was time to serve his country. Hopper, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling in his gut since the moment he was handed that envelope.

 He knew he couldn’t not go. He’d been called to serve, much like a handful of his classmates, but the thought of leaving Joyce was killing him. Even thinking about telling her about the letter made him feel sick. 

 He’d been doing his best to forget about it for the past two days. Senior year started the next day and he would much rather be focused on the football season and his girlfriend. 

 From inside the kitchen, he can hear his mother explain to his father that he shouldn’t put so much pressure on him about going. He listens as she explains that she knows he’ll have to go and only returns to his workout when he can hear his mother begin crying.

 He just wasn’t going to think about it.

 Deployment was months away.

 For now, he was going to focus on starting his senior year and pretend that the life he and Joyce planned didn’t seem light-years away. 

.

.

After his workout, Hopper devours a bowl of cereal and stands next to the sink while waiting for his water bottle to fill. The phone rings next to him and he reaches for it with a mouth full of corn flakes on the second ring.

 “Hello?”

 “Hey, it’s me,” Joyce’s voice rings through the receiver.

 “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s up?”

 “I was just thinking about you,” she informs him.

 “Oh? What about me?”

 “I can’t wait for us to get the hell out of here.”

 His heart sinks and he stutters. He could tell her about the letter, but he doesn’t want to hurt her. Just picturing her shattered expression makes his stomach sink and instead he replies, “me too.”

 “I just called to tell you that. And to tell you that I don’t need a ride tomorrow,” she says.

 “You sure? I can pick you up before practice.”

 “It’s alright. It’s our last first day and I want to walk.”

 “Can I still drive you home?”

 “Only if we can stop for shakes.”

 “You drive a hard bargain, Horowitz.”

 “See you tomorrow?” she asks.

 “See you tomorrow.”

 Hanging up the phone, Hopper drops his head to his hands and exhales. He had to tell her about the letter. He couldn’t let her go on planning their future together knowing he was going to be the one to rip the plans away. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, a lose-lose situation.

 If he told her, he would break her heart. If he waited to tell her, he would break it more.

 .

.

 The first day back as seniors, Joyce faces a few stares from classmates and freshmen, all likely wondering why someone like Hopper was interested in someone like her. With Chrissy and her minions having graduated, Joyce faced a lot less hazing. Sure, a few of the cheerleaders in her class made faces at her when she passed them in the halls, but most of their gossiping was harmless and she was so genuinely happy with Hopper that she didn’t listen to any of it. 

 True to his word, Hopper takes her to the diner after school for milkshakes and it becomes their Monday ritual. Joyce would work in the library until football practice ended and then she and Hopper would end up at the diner, splitting a chocolate shake. 

 She attended every one of his games that fall. Sitting on the bleachers with the rest of the fans, and occasionally his parents, she slowly learned the rules of the game and grew not to hate football. Her favourite games were the ones his father attended because he would explain the plays to her as the game went on and she didn’t have to worry about making small talk with classmates she only saw at the games. 

Two months into senior year, Hopper and Joyce had become the couple to envy. They walked down the halls arm in arm and nearly every freshman girl swooned over Hopper. 

 They were inseparable. He sat at a library table and did his homework while Joyce worked. She smoked on the bleachers while she waited for him at football practice. 

 Their weekends were filled with nights at the drive-in and once the weather began to cool, they spent nights watching movies in the Hopper’s living room. They spent time with Benny and Helen and soon enough Joyce and Helen became actual friends. 

 Hopper noticed Joyce was spending less time at home but didn't press her to tell him why. Instead, one night while walking home from a small party at Lover’s Lake, he listens intently as she tells him that her mom hadn’t returned from her latest business trip (one she’d taken a month prior). Hopper listened as she spoke and offered to help in any way he could. 

 That night after returning home he asked his parents how they would feel about Joyce occasionally spending the night. After hearing more about her situation at home, they agreed as long as Jim’s bedroom door remained open and he was respectful of the house rules. He informed Joyce the next day that she was welcome to spend the night whenever she felt uncomfortable at home and though she was initially mad at him for involving his parents, she eventually admitted she was grateful. 

 Three months into senior year Joyce spends her first night at his house. They don’t do anything wild, just do some homework and read side by side before bed, but it feels strangely intimate to her. 

 She doesn’t make spending the night a habit, but on a handful of occasions she finds herself tucked in next to Hopper, wearing one of his flannel shirts.

 He’d yet to tell her about his letter because how could he be the one to burst her bubble.

 When December rolls around, he asks Joyce if she wants to go to senior prom with him. Initially reluctant to attend another prom, Joyce tells him she’ll think about it. Helen eventually convinces her that she has to join them at prom or it “just won’t be the same” and Hopper tells Joyce that he’ll buy them tickets.

 That Tuesday morning, Joyce is lingering near the ticket table waiting for a teacher to unlock the art room so she can grab the notebook she’d left behind the day before. A girl in her class, Clara, spots her and marches over with a fake smile. Clara was tall, blonde, and this year's head cheerleader. She’d never spoken a single word to Joyce, though Joyce always saw her at football games and knew she and her friends often gossiped about her. She hated girls like Clara, who reminded her of Chrissy. Tall, blonde, beautiful and extremely cruel. 

 “Isn’t Jim buying you tickets?” the tall blonde snarls.

 “Why do you care?”

 “I didn’t think prom was really your scene.”

 “It isn’t. It’s full of mindless idiots. You’re going, right?” Joyce smirks. 

 “Ugh, whatever. I was just going to tell you that if you don’t go, you should keep an eye on Jim. He’s a hot commodity and someone might just try and snatch him up.”

 “Are you threatening me?” Joyce steps towards the girl, who immediately shrinks and steps back. 

 “Just thought I’d be nice and give you a heads up,” Clara smiles wickedly. 

 “How kind.” Joyce rolls her eyes, stuffs her hands in her pockets and marches towards her next class. 

 Girls like Clara and Chrissy were always trying to get under her skin and she’d decided long ago that she wasn’t going to let them. Why then, did she find herself chomping down on the inside of her cheek as she took her seat, fists clenched at her sides? She knew Clara was only trying to get a rise out of her, but for some odd reason, her insult played on a loop in the back of Joyce’s mind. She knew that Hopper wouldn’t care if she didn’t want to go to prom. She also knew that he would never stand by and let another girl flirt with him; she had his heart and that she was certain of. What bothered her was the subconscious thought that kept her awake some nights; Were girls like Chrissy and Clara always going to make her feel like she wasn’t enough for Hopper? 

 After school that afternoon, Hopper excitedly flashes two prom tickets at Joyce before unlocking the car. 

 “Got them!”

 Unsure of what to say, Joyce wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat and kicks at her book bag. 

 “Joyce?” he looks over at her with concern, “everything alright?”

 “Yeah,” she replies, “everything’s fine.”

 “You still want to go to prom, right? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

 “No no. I’ll go. It’s just…”

 “Can I promise you something before you continue that sentence?” 

 Joyce nods. 

 “This isn’t going to be like all the other proms. I know dances aren’t really your thing but I promise you that this one is going to be different.”

 “I don’t know Hop, it’s still a dance.”

 “I know it is. But it’s me and you. And if you’d like it can be just us two.” 

 “Just us two?”

 “Just us two. We can pretend like no one else is there. How does that sound? We go together, you let me steal a dance or two and then if it’s horrible we can leave.”

 “Hmmm,” Joyce contemplates out loud. “Aright, fine. I’m wearing sneakers with my dress,” she informs him. 

 “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles. 

 “And when it’s terrible, we’re leaving.”

 “You’ve got yourself a deal Horowitz.” 

 “Can we swing by the diner for a milkshake?” she asks. 

 “Of course.” 

 Joyce decides to forget about what Clara said that morning. She trusts Hopper means it when he says they can leave the dance if she’s not having a good time. Besides, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to have him hold her in his arms while they danced. It was her one regret from the previous dance she’d gone to; not getting to dance with him. 

 .

.

 January 13th was senior prom night at Hawkins High. Hopper nervously fiddles with the buttons on his jacket while he paces the length of Joyce’s porch. He told her he would pick her up at 8 o’clock sharp and it was now 8:07 and he’d get to see her. 

 When he rang the bell, knowing her parents were both away for the week, she yelled back telling him she’d be ready in a few minutes. 

 Instead of wearing down the soles of his dress shoes, Hopper takes a seat on the edge of Joyce’s porch and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it, takes a long drag and exhales a deep breath. 

  He was going to make tonight perfect for her. With his deployment date looming closer and their senior year passing quicker than expected, he knew he wanted to remember this night with Joyce forever.

 The door opens behind him, bathing the porch in dim yellow lighting and the floorboards creak as Joyce steps towards him. 

 “Ta-da,” she laughs, holding out her arms to show off her dress. It was a deep red colour, the top hugging her chest tightly while the skirt floated it just below her knees. Not at all what he expected her to wear. 

 Hopper turns to face her with a smile and takes in the way her curly hair hangs over her shoulders. She shyly smiles back at him and decides to twirl around and show off her dress (and her converse). 

 “You look beautiful.”

 “You don’t look half bad yourself,” she grins. “I didn’t choose the dress, Helen did.”

 “You’d look beautiful in anything.”

 “Sap,” she laughs, smacking his arm. “Should we get going and get this over with?”

 “First,” Hopper scrambles, nervously reaching into his back pocket, “this is for you.” He hands her a small white flower with a silver wristband. 

 Joyce reaches out and runs her fingers delicately over the edges of the petals. “Hop.”

 “I know it’s lame but I just thought…”

 “It’s beautiful,” she smiles. 

 She extends her wrist in his direction and cocks her head. “Will you put it on?”

 He nods and slips the flower on her wrist. 

 “There. Now we’re ready to go.”

 “Actually, I have something too.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small silver flask. “To make the night tolerable.”

 “You’re wild, Horowitz,” he shakes his head and takes a sip from the flask. He coughs immediately, “Jesus, what is that?”

 “Don't question it, just close your eyes and drink.”

 “Shall we?” he asks, extending his arm in her direction. 

 “We shall,” she giggles, looping her arm through his. 

 Halfway to the school, Hopper notices Joyce fiddling with her thumbs and reaches over to take one of her hands. 

 “Hey,” he says softly, “this is going to be fun. Just me and you.”

 They drink the contents of her flask in the parking lot before entering the dance and giggling as they make their way into the already crowded gymnasium. 

 Outside the entrance a tower of balloons welcomes them. The gymnasium is covered in green and white streamers and the dance floor, located in front of the bleachers, is covered in confetti. 

 “Joyce!” Helen exclaims when she spots her. She rushes over, dragging Benny behind her. 

 “You guys made it!” she adds.

 Hopper and Benny high five and Joyce compliments Helen’s hair which is piled high in her head in a lump of curls. 

 Joyce looks around the dance and lets out the breath she’d been holding. It wasn’t that bad. The foursome makes their way over to the punch bowl and helps themselves to glasses that are more alcohol than a punch. 

 A jazz song begins playing and Helen squeals and grabs Benny’s hand. “Let’s gooooo! I love this song.” 

 She drags him off towards the dance floor, leaving Joyce and Hopper alone next to the punch table. 

 “Whatcha thinking?” Hopper asks Joyce.

 “That if you’d told me during junior year I’d be at senior prom with my best friend I would have thought you were crazy.”

 “Joyce, we’re at senior prom together. Still think I’m crazy?”

 “Of course you are. You’re dating me.”

 “The only kind of crazy that makes me is crazy for you.”

 She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at his comment but allows him to snake an arm around her waist and pull her closer.

 “You wanna dance?”

 “I’m fine here.”

 “Come on,” he smirks, taking her hand and tugging her towards the dance floor. 

 She notices a few of the cheerleaders in her class staring as Hopper leads them to the dance floor and does her best to ignore them. They were just jealous because they would never understand what she and Hopper had. She was beginning to believe that no one would ever understand their connection. It ran deeper than even she knew how to describe, a thought that terrified and thrilled her all at once. 

 Lucille begins playing as they reach the center of the dance floor. Surrounded by her classmates, Joyce awkwardly sways next to Hopper. He reaches out and squeezes her hand, silently telling her to let go. And she does. 

 She lets him twirl her inwards and outwards again, laughing as he awkwardly attempts to dip her but fails. The two of them jump and spin and scream along with the song until they’re breathless and in each other’s arms. When the music stops, Joyce leads Hopper away from all the commotion and they take a seat on the bleachers. 

 “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks.

 “It might have been fun.”

 “Alright everyone, it’s time to announce our prom king and queen!” 

 The announcement echoes through the gymnasium and kids begin to gather in front of the small platform acting as a stage. On it, the class president Veronica stands with the microphone in hand. 

 Joyce winces and leans against Hopper. She hated popularity contests. It was something she’d battled with all of high school since her best friend was popular and she wasn’t. Now that they were dating things only seemed to get worse. Popularity was a black and white concept at Hawkins High. Hopper was popular, she was not. The girls in her class went out of their way to make sure she didn’t forget it. 

 She grips Hopper’s arm and watches him watching the stage. He looks down at her and offers her a reassuring smile. 

 “We had an overwhelming amount of votes this year, and I am happy to announce that our prom king and queen for this year are Clara Samuels and Jim Hopper!!”

 Joyce feels like the wind has been knocked out of her when Hopper’s name is announced. Hopper looks stunned but before he can react a group of guys are chanting his name and leading him through the crowd towards the stage. Clara is already front and center, waving in her tiara and sash when he reaches the stage. Veronica has him lean down so she can place a gold crown on his head. He looks for Joyce and locks eyes with her, trying his best to convey an apology. 

 Joyce folds her arms over her chest and watches as Clara and Hopper are instructed to dance under a spotlight in the middle of the dance floor. 

 Helen comes up on her left and softly whispers, “you good?”

 “Yup,” Joyce responds, popping the “p.”

 Hesitantly, Hopper puts his hands on Clara’s hips and they begin to move to the music. He looks uncomfortable while Clara has a smug grin on her face. When her eyes meet Joyce’s from behind Hopper’s shoulder, she smiles and pulls Hopper closer. That’s all Joyce needs to make a beeline for the exit. She can hear the music begin to fade as she marches out into the parking lot, but she doesn’t dare look back.

 She reaches Hop’s car in a haste and frustratedly digs around in her bag for a cigarette. Lighting it, she leans back against the car and inhales. She can tell that the music inside the gym has become quick-paced again and wonders how long the king and queen dance actually lasted. 

 Of course, Clara would be voted the prom queen. It was always going to be girls like Chrissy constantly reminding her that she didn’t belong with Hopper because she wasn’t his traditional type. She knew none of it mattered to Hopper. It shouldn’t matter to her either. Joyce closes her eyes and focuses her energy on her cigarette. 

 “I thought I might find you here,” Hopper’s voice cuts through the silence. 

 “Shouldn’t you be taking Royal photos?” Her words come out harsher than intended.

 “Nah, one dance was enough. I bet it was a joke that I was even nominated.”

 “That crown looks good on you,” she compliments, attempting to cut some of the tension. 

 He lifts it off his head and places it on hers. “Looks better on you.”

 She attempts to remove it but he places a hand in hers and holds it in place. “It’s yours now.”

 “I’m not wearing your crown.”

 “Please.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you’ll always be my prom queen.” 

 She blushes and looks down at her shoes. He lights his own cigarette and leans on the car next to her. 

 “You genuinely believe that, don’t you?”

 “Of course I do. I love you, Joyce.”

 She rocks forward on her toes, plants a hand on his chest and kisses him. 

 From inside the gymnasium, the soft sounds of a slow song spill out into the parking lot. 

 “Can I have this dance?” Hopper asks, extending one hand to her.

 “Out here?”

 “Why not?” he shrugs. 

 Joyce takes his hand and lets him pull her into his chest. He wraps both hands around her waist and she rests her head beneath his chin. 

 The crown he placed on her head brushes against his cheek and he smiles. 

 They dance in silence for a few moments, gravitating towards one another as they move. 

 “This is exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to the dance,” he whispers. 

 “It is?”

 “It is. Not to sound like a broken record but, I love you, Joyce.”

 Looking up into his blue eyes, she feels her heart lurch and she knows that he’s the real thing. He didn’t care about what anyone thought. He saw things the way she did; it was the two of them against the world, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 She pulls her gaze away from his and bites on her lower lip, an unfamiliar sensation overcoming her. 

 “Hop,” she whispers. His hands flatten against her back and he stills them from swaying. 

 “I - “ she stutters. Looking up, she locks eyes with him and a calm washes over her entire body. 

 “I love you too.”

 A smile settles over Hopper’s face and he leans down to kiss her. On the outside, he allows his facial features to soften and his shoulders to relax, demonstrating to Joyce how much her words mean to him. On the inside, however, he’s a mess. How was he supposed to tell her he was leaving now?

 The lingering question kept me up

Two a.m., who do you love?

[writersmacchiato]

seeing stars | charlie dalton

Summary: Charlie is in the unique position of falling in love with his fiancée while knowing nothing about her, only that they’re arranged to be married and she already has a boyfriend.

Request: Hi! Could I request a Charlie Dalton x Reader where they're set up for a marriage? And at the beginning they're not really happy about it cause either Charlie has a girlfriend or reader has a boyfriend but they end up liking each other. I'd love for it to have a LOT of fluff. Thanks in advance :) love u + Hi! I was wondering if you could write a really fluffy Charlie Dalton x reader please?? Thank you.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, unnecessary detail about Charlie’s parents that isn’t canon, 2k words!!

You've got me seeing stars, brighter than ever Shining just like diamonds do

The rain splattered against the window, a roaring pour that offered no mercy to those unfortunate to be caught unawares by it. Charlie stared dismally at the passing cars and running people through the mirror, his expression was cold. 

"Just a few more measurements, Mr. Dalton, then we'll be done."

Charlie hummed his acknowledgement, but he wasn't thinking about the suit he was wearing. The heavy material that weighed down his shoulders, tight around the chest, feeling more like a noose than something fit for a wedding. 

"All done then." The tailor stepped away, folding his measuring tape away before making a few more notes in his notebook. "The alterations will be done by the 15th. Plenty of time before the happy day."

Happy day.

Charlie had to physically stop himself from scoffing. "Thank you." 

His father clears his throat, looking up from his newspaper. He manages a tight-lipped smile at his son."Your mother will be pleased."

"Will she?" Charlie said, enjoying the way his father tenses. 

The answer was no. Nothing pleased his mother; not the wealth of his father, the pride of a mother - she took her enjoyment by controlling those around her and bending them to her whim. She was pretty, beautiful back in her prime, but her relevance in high society was fading. A fact she hated more than anything. 

. . .

There are rows and rows of fabric, cards with the names of the color written neatly in cursive. 

"Purple or yellow?" Charlie flashed the two color cards at you, looking at the fabrics in disdain. Why were there so many?

"You can't just say a color! There are shades of purple and shades of yellow." You wrinkle your nose at him, looking between the two he held. "That canary yellow clashes with the plum. A darker yellow, like gold, would look better."

Charlie had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "I don't see how it matters. Or why they're making us plan so many things."

"They planned the marriage and can't even plan this?" 

You catch his eye, both of you straight-faced, before you're looking away with a smile.

Charlie smiles to himself, flicking through the cue cards. It's only as he watches you walk away that he realizes it's the first time he's smiled genuinely around you. 

. . .

You frown at the rich taste of buttercream; a velvety swirl of vanilla that is topped by a fondant white rose. The cake is vanilla bean, a soft and spongy delight that is overwhelmed by frosting. 

Malinda Dalton, Charlie's mother, sighed in satisfaction. "This is the one."

Charlie sits with his arms crossed, looking at you with an unreadable expression. 

"Are you sure? It's the first cake. We've prepared five cakes in total for tasting." 

Malinda twists her mouth to the side, something she does when someone goes against her. 

"It would be rude not to." You speak up with a smile, hiding your smirk at Malinda's side-eye in your direction. "In fact, we'd be delighted. Isn't that right, Charlie?"

"Absolutely." Charlie said. 

The other cakes fall within the same line of the first one; delicious, but entirely too decadent. Malinda goes out of her way to make her distaste known, set on the first cake. You share a look with Charlie.

"I like the red velvet cake the best." You said.

"Really? Me too." Charlie fakes his surprise, noticing how you hold back a laugh. 

An ugly look passes over Malinda's face before she covers it with her picture-perfect smile. "Well if it's what the couple wants..."

. . .

"Listen, Benny, when I say she's a momzilla--"

Charlie only hears the tail-end of your phone conversation, walking in with two glasses of champagne. 

You're wearing a beautiful blue dress, an overlay of gold embellishments. Gold earrings catching the light as you turn away from the phone. There is no mistaking the sadness in your eyes, how much they glitter with melancholy. 

"Talking to Ben?"

"Yeah."

Benjamin Jay West, your boyfriend of two years, or ex-boyfriend. Charlie wasn't sure what relation you still had with him. 

"I'm sorry." Charlie said. "I know you'd rather be doing all of this with him."

Sometimes, Charlie forgets that you have a life outside of this. That you take classes at the state university, that you hang out with friends, that you have a boyfriend you love. This being the bullshit that is high society. 

You don't say anything, but you offer a tepid smile. "I'm sorry, too. I know you don't want this either."

Charlie offers you the glass, watching the bubbles travel through the liquid. It's odd that this is the most you've talked without being forced to. You hold out the glass to his, clinking it gently. 

"Cheers. To being in an arranged marriage like it's the eighteen hundreds."

Charlie smiles, genuinely smiles. "Cheers."

He can't help the small voice that says 'maybe this will be okay'.

. . .

Charlie doesn't hear from you in a week. Which isn't entirely unusual, but there was often something that had to be planned for the wedding that required some form of communication. It was two months away now. Invitations were sent out, RSVPs being received. 

It was odd being outside of your studio apartment. Located downtown, it was close to the university. A graduation present from your parents. Charlie knew the address; had picked you up several times, had seen Ben peeking through the curtains. 

Now, there was no sign of life. 

The flowers on the stoop were wilted, a surprising neglect given your love of them. No lights are on that can be seen from the front entrance. It's quiet and suddenly he can't remember if anyone has heard from you.

The doorbell echoes throughout the building, before he hears the small patter of footsteps. Charlie can't help the way he visibly relaxes upon seeing you, even if your hair is messy and there are visible bags under your eyes. 

"Charlie?" Your voice is tired, a little hoarse from disuse. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried." He said. It surprises him how true that is. 

"Do you want to come in?" You trail away, leading to the kitchen where you put on a kettle and grab two mugs. 

You're quiet, the glittery look in your eyes that he's accustomed to seeing is gone, the air around you is filled with a sadness.

"Ben broke up with me." You said through a croak. "It's stupid. So stupid. I knew it would happen eventually, but I didn't expect it now--"

The kettle starts to whistle and you turn away from him, taking a long time to prepare the cups of tea. Charlie doesn't comment on it. 

"I'm sorry." Charlie isn't sure how many times he's said that now, but it feels insignificant. Not worth enough. 

"I wish I was brave enough to leave him when I found out, but I was too selfish." There are steady tears trailing from your eyes, finally putting a dull sparkle in them that is nothing compared to your usual brightness. 

"I'm sorry." He says it again, like maybe if it means enough something will change. 

. . .

You throw yourself into finishing the final details of the wedding.

Charlie didn't expect it. If anything he anticipated more resistance. It scares him, how eerily perfect your mask is. 

He knows that is what you did; form a mask that hid your heartbreak over losing Ben. You never indulged much information about him. Only small tidbits that slipped out, everything Charlie knew about him was gathered from how you behaved after talking to him. The smile that was radiant, eyes shining with stars. 

His father looks at the venue, carefully watching his wife from the corner of his eye as she walked around with a clipboard in hand. Pen in hand, making notes. 

"You know, all things considered...you're lucky."

Charlie tosses a nasty look at his father, daring him to keep speaking with the sarcasm dripping. "Really?!"

"Your bride-to-be has a good head on her shoulders, she's funny, smart. She isn't like other young ladies her age."

Charlie follows his father's gaze, finding his mother meticulously smoothing out a tablecloth. Despite the burst of anger that rises at his father's words, he sees the reason behind it. They could have set him up with a stranger, someone like his mother who cared about money and status. At least he somewhat knew you before the arrangement was made. You were smart, incredibly witty. He was surprised how often you made him laugh. There is that voice again, louder;

'maybe it won't be so bad'.

. . .

The suit, with its alterations, looked perfect on him. The navy crisped and starched, looking pristine against the bundle of flowers pinned to his breast pocket. His hair was combed, full of gel that crunched his hair in a way he hated. 

There was no denying that he looked every part of the handsome groom, though on the inside he was anything but. 

His feelings had wavered for you over the months, but he was certain that he didn't feel anything close to love. Perhaps he liked how you smiled at him, how your eyes crinkled at the edges. The way you stood up to his mother and father. How intelligent you were, devoted to your studies but never letting them rule your life. 

In different circumstances, Charlie might have fallen in love with you.

Instead he hears the organ begin playing, watching as you walk down the aisle in a white dress that looks extremely extravagant and nothing like you would pick out. 

Your hands are cold in his, your expression empty. The necklace around your neck, a gift from your mother, shines brightly under the light - a stark contrast to the lack of light in your eyes. 

"I do."

Never had two words been more damning, Charlie thinks as he kisses you for the first time. It's brief, awkward, and cold. Pulling away, his hand holds you as he leads the way out of the room. 

The guests in attendance clap politely, showing no real enthusiasm, as if they too know that this wedding is unwanted. 

. . .

Silence.  

The apartment was full of deafening quiet, something Charlie eventually adjusted to. Instead he took note of mundane sounds: the scratch of your pen on paper while you studied and did homework, the soft patter of your socks on the floor, clinking of cups in the morning as you made enough tea for two.

It wasn't an unbearable existence. Charlie quickly beginning to notice your quirks and habits. 

The silence is broken one early morning when he wakes up and sees that you're not in your room or kitchen. Worry picks at him before he sees the open balcony door. You're huddled under a wool blanket, cup of tea in hand, looking at the sun setting. 

"Hey." You scoot over on the small bench, leaving room for him. 

For once the silence doesn't feel cold or tense.

"I love sunrises."

"It's too damn early."

Maybe, Charlie thinks as he looks at your laughing face and starry eyes, maybe it will be okay. 

. . . 

The air is cold, fresh, as the morning dew collects on grass blades and leaves. There is a thin film of fog slowly dispersing as the sun creeps over the thicket of pine trees. 

Charlie opens the door to the back porch, a blanket folded over his arm, with two mugs of tea in hand. The mugs touch the table with a gentle clank. You lean into his side, tucking the blanket under your chin. His hand runs over your arm, nose nestling against your head. 

No words are exchanged as you watch the sunrise, finishing the tea in slow sips before it grows tepid. Pink blends into blue, a soft purple giving way to a peach that slowly slips away until it's only an ebb of yellow and blue. 

"Can't believe in two days it'll be one year." You whisper, playing with the simple gold band on his finger. 

Charlie presses a kiss to your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too." 

Charlie feels his heart soar when you can't contain your smile, beaming up at him. Your eyes glittering with stars as you look at him. 

[marypsue]

hm. time for another teaser for an as-yet-incomplete longfic, I think. 

...

Rain rattles against the windows. Somewhere out in the night, thunder booms and grumbles. The sky flickers like an old black-and-white movie.

It’s been years since Steve cared about whether his parents are in town for any reason beyond party planning. But he catches himself wishing they were here, now, just so he wouldn’t have to be alone in the house. It’s way too quiet.

And he couldn’t shake the feeling, driving back from the video store after his shift, that he was being followed.

It’s probably the craziest paranoid thought he’s had since this all started. There wasn’t even anybody driving behind him most of the way home. Actually, traffic had been totally normal. Maybe even…too normal?

No. Nope. That’s nuts. He’s nuts. It’s official, Steve Harrington is out of his ever-loving mind.

He turns the TV on to MTV, with the sound up as loud as it’ll go, and stubbornly tries to pretend he doesn’t jump halfway out of his skin when the phone rings.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes, to himself, turning off the TV set before picking up the phone. “Harrington residence, you got Steve.”

“ ‘Harrington residence’?” Robin’s voice echoes, disbelievingly, and Steve breathes out.

“You try explaining to my old man why one of his business partners called his home number and got greeted with ‘You got Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington at Loch Nora’s one and only twenty-four/seven party pad, how can we get you fucked up?’” Steve waits a moment for Robin to stop laughing. “And yes, before you ask, that did really happen.”

“Oh my god, Harrington, how did it take everyone this long to figure out what a hopeless dweeb you are?”

Steve shrugs, before remembering Robin can’t see him. “I have a nice, big house that’s usually empty, I’m good at sports, and my hair is awesome. Nobody in high school ever really needed or wanted anything more from me.” It hits him, as he says it, just how true it is. Thinking about it just makes him feel pathetic, though, so instead he says, “So. You got Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington at Loch Nora’s one and only twenty-four/seven party pad. How can we get you fucked up?”

Robin snorts.

“Don’t really need much more help in that department, thanks,” she says. “My parents went to a movie and I’ve got the house to myself. Mostly I just called you to hear another human voice.”

It wasn’t so long ago, Steve thinks, that getting a call from a girl who said her parents were out for the evening would’ve meant one thing and one thing only. That’s so far removed from what’s happening here that it’s almost funny.

He doesn’t laugh, though. “Yeah? Well, I’m glad you did. It gets way too quiet up here, too.” He paces across the kitchen, then turns around and paces out into the living room, going from the full length of the cord in one direction to the full length of the cord in the other. “You get home okay before the storm hit?”

“Yeah. I caught a couple drops pulling into the driveway, but I didn’t get, like, drenched. Or struck by lightning.” With eerily good timing, a flash lights up the picture window in the living room, illuminating the patio, the pool, and the woods beyond in sharp black-and-white for an instant before everything goes dark again. Steve mutters a curse, straining against the phone’s cord to try to reach the drawstring for the blinds. The cord’s just about a foot too short. “What about you?”

“Wha? Oh, yeah. Definitely,” Steve agrees. “What – what were we talking about again?”

Robin sighs heavily into the phone. “Steve.” There’s a shade of concern in her deliberately casual voice as she asks, “Are you okay? You seem…more of a space case than usual lately.”

“What? No, I’m fine.” Steve brings a hand up to run absently through his hair. Outside, through the raindrops smearing down the glass, he can still see the pool, even with its lights out. The clouds overhead crackle and glow with lightning, the sound of it hissing and popping in the phone line. The lights in the kitchen and the living room all flicker, and Steve’s heart clenches in his chest, but the steady glow comes right back, warm and reassuring. He breathes out. “Just, y’know. Haven’t been sleeping so great.”

“Steve,” Robin says.

“Right. Already told you that.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut. Thunder booms through the house like there are no walls between him and the storm, vibrating in his bones. A dull ache starts in his temples, works its way down into his cheekbones, his jaw. Those fucking Russian thugs must’ve fractured something in there, something that didn’t show up on the X-rays. The bruising’s all healed, but it’s still hurting whenever he gets stressed out. Which is…all the time, now. “Hey, what did you mean when you asked if the Russians could have come back?”

Robin is silent so long that Steve wonders if the lightning’s knocked out the phone line. “Robin?”

“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. Just had a – weird feeling… Look, we probably shouldn’t talk about this over the phone.” Robin makes a token effort to sound like she’s joking as she says, “You know. Wiretaps.”

“Right. Gotcha.” Steve twirls the phone cord around his finger as he stares out at the patio. “You work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got the late shift. You’re on in the morning, right?” Robin pauses for a moment before she says, “Meet you at Benny’s for lunch?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Noon?”

“It’s a date,” Robin says. “Try and get some sleep, Harrington. Day of the Dead might be a hit, but it’s not out on tape yet, we don’t need a zombie in the store to advertise it.”

“Seriously. Standup comedy is missing you,” Steve sighs into the handset. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Robin agrees, and then the line goes dead.

Steve keeps the handset pressed to his ear for a moment before he realizes he’s acting like a little kid with a security blanket, and hangs it up as fast as he can. The plastic of the cradle cracks with a sad little noise, just up in the top corner, and Steve flicks at it with one finger. He didn’t think he’d slammed it down that hard. Probably the plastic’s just gotten brittle from sitting in the sun.

He sighs, and flicks the TV back on, turning up the Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take’. Steve already knows he’s not going to be able to take Robin’s advice. He hasn’t had a solid night’s sleep in a week, and tonight doesn’t seem set to break the pattern. It’s impossible to tell if the sun’s set yet behind the solid wall of black clouds blotting out the sky, but he’s already vibrating with nervous energy. Wide, unfortunately, awake.

Sting’s vocals aren’t exactly relaxing, either. Steve’s never really listened to the lyrics to this song, but it turns out they’re creepy. “Every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you…”

It’s stupid. Steve’s not a baby. He’s gone after way worse monsters than a couple of guys with funny accents, with nothing more than a baseball bat with a few nails hammered through it and a healthy helping of bravado. And he’d been fine afterwards. Sure, had a few nightmares about getting ripped apart by demo-whatevers – or having to watch the kids get ripped apart by demo-whatevers – but they’d gone away. Eventually. Mostly. And they hadn’t had him jumping at shadows like this, scared to be alone in his own house, too scared to sleep, scared to look out his own window –

Lightning strikes, somewhere close by, throwing a sharp spotlight on the patio and the woods beyond. It goes on and on, for – it’s got to be seconds. Thunder smashes into the house and Steve’s ears along with it, rolling and rolling, rattling his teeth and making his jaw ache. Every light in the house flares brilliantly white, and then dies. The music dies with it, leaving only the drum of rain on the roof and the low, near-constant roll of thunder.

The lightning cuts out abruptly, plunging the world into darkness.

Steve steps closer to the window, to get a better look through the streaks the pouring rain leaves on the glass. After the flash, mostly what he can see are purple afterimages. And, looking pale and scared and only halfway there, reflected in the depths of the dark glass, his own face.

But he knows what he saw, in that single, blinding flash. And he knows he sees it again, as his eyes adjust to the dark, as he presses his nose nearly against the glass, holding his breath so it doesn’t fog it up. A rounded shape, gleaming pale against the darkness, half-hidden back between the trees. A round, pale shape turned towards the house.

A round, pale shape at about the height of a face.

There’s somebody out there.

Somebody’s watching him from the woods.

[scoopsohboi]

s’okay if you like her

pairing: robin buckley/reader

wc: 1627

summary: you’re hanging out with robin and steve as they close the family video. you’re secretly in love with robin and your best friend steve helps hint it to her.

a/n: repost from my ao3 (scoopydoo). feel free to send me requests if you’d like! 

-more robin readers-

-st readers-

“God, I’m so bored,” you breathed as you lay out on the floor of Family Video. It was nearly eight o’clock and Keith had gone home about an hour ago, leaving Steve and Robin to close the shop. You arrived twenty minutes later with slurpees for your two friends. Steve complained about Robin’s overflowing while his drink sat safely in his cup without threat of spillage and you just shrugged. It definitely wasn’t because you had a crush on Robin. Steve knew, though, and gave you a wink when he thought Robin wasn’t paying attention.

You’d started spending time with Steve when the Byers kid first went missing a while back, and the easy friendship had surprised you. Steve was funny, and caring, and although he wasn’t the smartest, he definitely had a strong moral compass that strongly pointed north when needed. He’d saved you from demogorgons, demodogs, and eventually even a Flayed Billy.

When Steve had first gotten his job at Scoops and you met Robin, you had an instant crush on her. She was pretty, smart, snarky, and hilarious. You’d laughed more since meeting her than you had in years. As the three of you spent time translating the Russian communication, along with Dustin, you’d fallen rather hard for her. It had been hard to keep your feelings hidden from Robin, not knowing if she was straight or not, but you’d done everything in your power to keep that shit locked up tight. You didn’t want to do anything to make her uncomfortable, even if every time your hands brushed it felt like an electric shock webbing through your veins to your shoulder.

Of course, Steve knew. You had alluded it to him one night in his living room as he’d been trying to convince you to call the guy who’d wrote his number on a napkin at Benny’s Diner and given it to you with a shy smile.

“He’s just really not my type, Steve,” you’d said, stomach in knots and feeling like you were going to throw up your entire club sandwich on Steve’s mom’s new white rug.

“What, a guy? You don’t know anything about him!” Steve had argued, exasperatedly trying to figure out why you always turned down guys’ advances.

“Steve,” you pressed, letting his name hang in the air as Steve’s brows knit together, staring at you like Eleven staring at a door and you could tell he was trying to read your mind. You raised your brows, the actual words caught in your throat with the bile that threatened to rise. I’m gay.

“What?” he asked, clearly confused until- oh, now he got it. “Oh-oh,” he blinked, leaning back against the couch and staring at nothing. It was quiet for a moment, then he began almost yelling at you for not telling him sooner. The rest of the night the two of you spent hours gushing about girls you thought were cute, at school, from films, anything. It felt amazing.

Since then, you’d been very comfortable about being gay, at least in front of Steve. But then Robin entered the picture and it was a whole new dynamic. You felt awkward, clumsy, like it was the first crush you’d ever had. Which it wasn’t, but it was the first time you were close enough to a girl you liked that you felt like any wrong step would scare her off. But it never did. Even when she’d look over and catch you staring at her, she’d just smile and start engaging you in conversation.

Then she and Steve had been interrogated by Russians and you’d sat with them during Back to the Future, chasing your drugged friends as they ran out to the water fountain and eventually to the bathroom to puke up everything in their systems. That’s when it happened. Robin came out to you and Steve. She looked horrified, as if she was a monster. You wanted to tell her that you were gay, too, but you didn’t want to ruin her moment. You also couldn’t tell her how you felt after Steve had just confessed his love for her. So the two of you sat and listened, and joked about how her high school crush Tammy Thompson sang like a Muppet.

Once everything had died down, you told Steve how you felt about Robin after having a few shots at Steve’s, an attempt to forgo nightmares in favor of being too drunk to have them.

“Isn’t that Rob’s?” he’d asked, gesturing a shot glass at your jacket before tipping his head back and gulping down its contents. You’d blushed and shoved your own glass at him, silently telling him you needed a refill. Steve obliged, but kept your glass from you when you moved to grab it.

“Jesus, what, you want to wear it next?” Your words were slurring, face heated, body swaying slightly as you both sat at the dining table. Steve watched you for a moment before sliding your shot glass to you and picking up his own. You grabbed yours and clinked it to his.

“Y’know,” he slurred as he tossed his drink back and let out a low hiss at the burn. “S’okay if you like her.” Your hand froze as the glass touched your lips, pausing briefly before following Steve’s actions.

“I dunno, Steve,” you said quietly, wishing the alcohol would do more to numb your brain so you wouldn’t have to think anymore. You were just exhausted of being a living person these days, the battles with the Upside Down were really taking a toll on you. The days were okay, but you were reliving yourself and all your friends almost dying every night and you didn’t know how long you would last.

“Trust me, she likes you,” Steve continued and you rolled your eyes. “She does. She talks about you all the time, it’s getting annoying.” You blushed then, not fully trusting Steve but the thought was nice. “I can’t go to work without hearing her gush about some book you lent her, or-or some conversation you guys had about that 2000s movie.”

“It’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, and you really need to see it already,” you argued, but couldn’t help the butterflies you felt at the thought of Robin talking to Steve about you. You spent the rest of the night drinking and talking about your crush until you could barely keep your eyes open. The two of you passed out in Steve’s room, thankfully too out of it for the night terrors.

You rolled over onto your stomach, still splayed out on the rough, old carpet of the video store as Steve and Robin restocked the shelves before calling it a night. “At least you’re not working,” Steve grumbled, reading the sleeve of a new film he hadn’t heard of and Robin scoffed.

“Neither are you, dingus,” she said, kicking his shoe with hers and grabbing the VHS from his hands before placing it on the shelf. He sighed and placed a film next to it before turning to you with a devilish smile.

“Y/N, truth or dare?” You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling a trap. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself doing whatever Steve may choose as a dare, but you were also anxious to pick truth. After contemplating telling him to fuck off altogether, you heard yourself say, “truth.” Steve grined, wheels clearly spinning in his brain. Steve humed loudly and you watched Robin continue to stock tapes, an amused grin tugging at the corners of her lips. Steve grinned then, too, and you had a bad feeling about that. “Who would you rather: Phoebe Cates or Michael J. Fox?” You blushed profusely as Robin froze, hand resting on a tape with her back to you though you could tell she was waiting to hear your answer. You let out a shaky breath. Dammit, Harrington.

“You know it’s Phoebe,” you answered before punching him lightly in the arm. He rubbed his shoulder and mouthed an exaggerated ‘ow.’ You knew your face was beet red and you were glad Robin wasn’t looking at you. “If I ever say Michael, lock me up immediately.”

“Really?” Robin asked, voice shocked and you glanced at her. She was looking at you surprised, like she’d never seen you before. She almost looked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” you said shyly. You heard Steve say something about grabbing an item from the back, but he already sounded miles away, as if it were only you and Robin.

“How am I just learning this now?” she asked and you sat up, crossing your legs as she turned her attention solely on you.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I mean, I wanted to tell you, I just- it never seemed like the right time.” Robin laughed softly.

“Because drugged in a movie theater bathroom was so perfect.” You giggled a little.

“Exactly. And I couldn’t really say, ‘hey, Robin, I’m in love with you,’ when Dingus already stole that thunder.” Robin’s brows flew up and after a beat she started to smile softly.

“Well,” she breathed, “too bad you didn’t get to go first.” You reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear. You bit your lip as her blue eyes gazed into yours.

“You think I would’ve had a better shot?”

“I think you’re the only one who had one in the first place.” You didn’t know who moved first, but a moment later your eyes were closed and Robin’s lips were pressed against yours. Your hand cupped her jaw as hers went to your waist and your mouths moved perfectly in sync. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was the first of many. Gentle and warm and perfect.

[lurafita]

Avenging Santa Claus

Got this prompt some time ago, that I was really rushing to get written before Christmas. I hope you like it! 

Original prompt: here

There are Alphas and Omegas, but there is NO gender oppression whatsoever. Children call their Omega parent Mom/Mother/Mommy, and their Alpha parent Dad/Father/Pops, you get it. 

Avenging Santa Claus

 The shopping mall was a bad place to be at the 21 of December. Christmas songs that were sure to get stuck in your head for hours on end, were blaring everywhere; stressed people were running around in a perpetual sour mood, to get the last of their gift shopping done; the smell of gingerbread was inescapable, and it was crowded enough to make anyone feel claustrophobic.

One had to be absolutely mad to be in such a place, at such a time.

Or married to the most wonderful Omega in the world, who had given him the most precious son in the world, who had used all his four years of experience in being cute, to convince his parents to take him to the mall to see Santa.

Tony and Peter Stark, together with their little son Ben, had been standing in line for a full 45 minutes now. Any attempts made by the billionaire to bribe their way forward, had been met with a reprimanding glare from his husband, and so Tony had grudgingly stopped reaching for his wallet, and instead joined Peter's efforts to answer all of their overly excited son's questions.

“Do you think Santa's sleigh is invisible? I didn't see it in the parking lot. Oh no! What if another car drives into it because they can't see it?!”

“I'm pretty sure he parked his sleigh on the roof, buddy. More space for Rudolph and his friends up there.”

“Those two elves with Santa are so tall, I thought elves were s'pposed to be smaller.”

“Scott lent them some of his tech so that they can help Santa better while they are here.”

“Can Santa's sleigh go faster than you, Daddy?”

“Pft. As if some magical reindeer could-” cue Peter's pointed elbow jabbing him in the ribs. “hrmh, I mean, his reindeer are magic, right? And Santa has to make it all around the world in only one night. So his sleigh could probably out fly Iron Man.”

“How does he get all over the world in one night?”

“Google maps and stardust propulsion.”

“We don't have a chimney! How will Santa get in, Mommy?”

“Don't worry. He has magic portals.”

“Like Dr. Wizard?”

“Yeah, exactly like those. Just that Santa's portals look like snow and ice crystals, instead of Stephen's gold ones.”

“How does Santa know if I have been good? Is he a super spy like auntie Nat?”

“He is the one who trained auntie Nat.”

“Whoa!”

Finally it was Ben's turn, and the four year old didn't hesitate for a second to run up to the sitting Santa Claus and scramble into his lap. Peter and Tony, like all the parents before, waited patiently at the side, as they watched their son tell the bearded man all about every item on his list.

Tony was just happy that they would be out of the place soon, when he caught the deepening frown on Peter's handsome face.

“Something the matter, sweetheart?”

“Ben is reciting his entire wish list.”

“Yeah, so? Isn't that what kids are supposed to do when they meet Chris Kringle?”

But Peter shook his head.

“He said he was gonna tell Santa his super secret Christmas wish first, to make sure he would put it on the top of his list. I was hoping to listen in, so we could get it for him. Unless it's a pony.”

“I mean, it's not like we don't have the space-”

“He is not getting a pony, Tony.”

“Oh my god, that rhymed. I'm gonna have that stuck in my head for the rest of the day now. Pony Tony, Tony pony.”

Peter muffled a laugh, and Tony pat himself on the back for having managed to relax his husband a little bit. While Tony was definitely annoyed by all the smells and noise of the mall, he couldn't imagine how much worse it was on Peter's enhanced senses. The omegan superhero had incredible control over his abilities, but maintaining that in such a stressful environment could not be easy, and even Peter slipped now and then.

He took the shorter man's hand and brought it up to his lips to press a loving kiss to his knuckles.

“You good, Pete?”

“I'm good,” Peter gave him a quick peck to the corner of his lips, then suddenly smirked up at him, “Tony Pony.”

The Alpha smirked right back.

“If this becomes a pet name, I expect you to ride me every time you use it.”

It was astounding, that after 8 years of being in a relationship, 5 of which they have been married, and having a child together, Peter still blushed so prettily whenever Tony mentioned their sex life.

The swift whack to his chest in reprimand was worth seeing his husband so flustered.

“Insatiable.”

Tony smirked wider and winked at the omega.

“You love it. So, how's eavesdropping on our son and the Coca Cola mascot going? I bet Benny wants a cool Iron Man suit like his dad.”

Peter shook his head, eyes locked on their son.

“He hasn't said anything so far that we didn't know about and haven't already gotten him. For the record, I still think you went overboard. No four year old needs that many toys.”

“Ah, come one. I'm allowed to spoil you and Ben on Christmas. It was in our vows.”

This earned him a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“You spoil us all the time.”

The billionaire looked down into the beloved, brown eyes.

“Not nearly enough.”

Tony had never thought of himself as someone so disgustingly mushy and besotted, but Peter just brought it out in him. Peter and Ben. The two most precious people in his life.

God, he was a sap.

He was just about to lean down and give his omega a deep, toe curling kiss, when Ben jumped off Santa's lap and came running up to them.

“Mommy, Daddy, quick, come quick, this way!”

The little boy grabbed both his parents hands and pulled them with him as fast as his short legs could carry him. More than a little surprised, Tony and Peter stumbled along.

“Whoa there, what's up, buddy?”

“Ben, is something wrong?”

When the four year old had dragged his parents a sufficient distance away from the winter wonder land, he released his grip on their hands and turned around to stare at them with big, frantic eyes.

“That Santa has a fake beard, and he doesn't smell like milk and chocolate cookies like he's s'pposed to! He is an inpo.. interpolter... imposter! He must have kidnapped the real Santa! But there won't be Christmas without the real Santa! Quick! You have to call the other Avengers and assemble and save Santa!”

As the two super heroes looked first into the gleaming with unshed tears eyes of their son, and then at each other, only one thought ran through their minds.

Oh boy.

-- 

 "I'm sorry, you want us to what?"

Tony rolled his eyes heavenward. One would think from Sam's incredulous tone and expression that he was asking something completely ridiculous from his friends.

"Could you please not be so dramatic? All I'm asking is that you all get into gear, get out to the north pole, stage a battle against some kind of evil scoundrel, save Santa Claus in the process, and watch your language while doing it, because Benny will be watching via Friday's live stream. I don't see which part of this you have a problem with."

Unbelievably, this earned him even more disbelieving stares from everyone currently in the living room. (Which was Steve, Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Scott, Bruce Rhodey and Hope. Thor was currently traveling with the Guardians of the galaxy, but had promised to be back by the 25th.)

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes, as if he was dealing with someone unreasonable... which was just uncalled for.

"Tony, you know we love Ben. But don't you think it would be better to tell him the truth, instead of all these theatrics?"

"Sure I do. But unless you manage to convince Peter of that, we are going to the freaking north pole and save Santa."

Hope's eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait. This is Peter's idea?"

Peter was usually the one to reign in Tony, whenever the genius came up with something completely ridiculous. But Tony only nodded solemnly.

"He said, and I quote: 'My baby is going to believe in the magic that is Christmas and all it encompasses for as long as super-humanly possible. And anyone who so much as breathes a word that might destroy his beliefs before he is ready to let go of them, will find themselves in a web cocoon hanging outside the tower.' End quote. Ben being in a constant state of almost crying ever since he discovered the 'fake' Santa, until Peter finally got him into bed with the promise that the Avengers would free the 'real' Santa as soon as we found out where he is being held captive, certainly didn't help. After that, Pete told me to get you all up to speed, and left for the Sanctum, to see if he could convince Wong and Stephen to help."

This left everyone in a little bit of shock, but far more willing to go along with Tony's request. There were few things scarier than Mama bear Peter.

Rhodey just shook his head, bemoaning the fact that he had chosen to get to the tower early, instead of on Christmas eve, as he had the previous years.

Bucky got up, grumbling about finding warm socks to go play make believe in the fucking arctic.

Scott grinned, trying to entice Hope into building a snow castle and taking pictures for Cassie while they were there.

Clint asked if his kids (the oldest of which was 8 and didn't believe in Santa Claus anymore, but would play along for the younger children's sakes), could watch the stream with Ben, because saving Santa Claus two days before Christmas was sure to get him 'Best Father of the Year' award.

Bruce was questioning whether the Hulk would even be needed for this, which Tony quickly shut down "You know Hulk is Ben's favorite, Brucie. He can't not be there to give Santa's kidnapper hell."

Steve sighed the sigh of the beaten, and went to inform Fury of tomorrows 'mission'. Sam followed as moral support.

Natasha, unflappable super spy that she was, just nodded.

"Well, I guess it's not the worst mission I have been on. I'm in."

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, a self satisfied smile on his lips.

"You better be in. Ben would be very disappointed if his auntie Nat didn't come to her super-spy teacher's rescue."

"... my What?!"

  --

 The next day, after Peter had distracted Ben long enough from his worry about Santa to get some breakfast into the boy, Natasha came striding into the room to inform them that they had found the whereabouts of Santa and his kidnapper. Ben gave her a big hug for being the best super-spy (after Santa), in the world. She was smug about it.

Clint followed shortly after with his pregnant wife, fellow four year old daughter and eight year old son. The kids and Laura would join Ben in watching the life stream of the Avengers heroically saving Santa Claus. Lilah was just as anxious as Ben was, Cooper, who had been told about what was going on, just smirked as he watched all the grown ups running around to get ready for their mission.

Scott and Hope had roped teenaged Cassie in to help the highly pregnant Laura keep an eye on the three younger kids (though Cooper would loudly disagree that he needed a babysitter), and help sell the whole thing to Ben and Lilah. (Neither May nor Pepper had been able to change their working schedules on this short notice to lend a helping hand, and Happy had taken his first vacation in forever and fled the cold weather to spend two weeks on a tropical beach)

Both Stephen and Wong (though the older monk would already be waiting for them at the destination) had thankfully been scared into agreed to help the Avengers with their mission, which made getting to the north pole a lot easier.

When Stephen arrived through one of his portals, everyone was fully suited up and ready to go. All the adults quickly hugged the children (Steve even saluted them, the dork), and to the encouraging shouts of "Kick evil butt and save Santa!" (and the barely repressed snickers from Laura, Cooper and Cassie), earth's mightiest heroes stepped through the magical portal into the blazing cold of the north pole.

Antman wrapped his arms around himself immediately.

"Why exactly isn't Santa being held captive in Florida?"

Iron Man and Spiderman quickly looked at each other, a little stunned.

"Oops."

  --

 The rescue mission had, unsurprisingly, been a complete success. Wong and Stephen had created some truly fantastical illusions of shadow creatures for the Avengers to fight, and Hulk to smash. (Nothing too scary looking though. Peter would web them up if Ben came out of this with nightmares about dark, red eyed monsters)

Spiderman and Iron Man had then taken on the evil kidnapper himself (One of Stephen's clones, that had been transformed to look like that Pitch Black dude from that pixar movie Ben couldn't get enough of)

It was Natasha who had broken Santa Claus (a magically disguised Wong), from his iron cage not far from the battle field. She had even bowed to her former 'teacher', and teased him about eating too many cookies and losing his edge in his old days. 'Santa' had shook the hands of all of the Avengers and then waved into Iron Man's suit camera to the kids at home, and promised to deliver all their presents on time. He thanked Ben especially, for figuring out his fake doppelganger. Back in the tower's penthouse in New York, little Ben was screeching with joy.

  --

 It was six a.m. on the 25th of December, and Tony and Peter Stark were enjoying what would surely be the last few minutes of peace and quiet they would have that day. The team and their assorted friends and family were scheduled to come to the penthouse for Christmas brunch and gift exchanges in a few hours, and Ben was sure to wake up any minute now. Rather than have their overly excited son jump onto their bed to wake them up because "It's Christmas, it's Christmas, wake up wake up wake up!", the two had gotten up a little earlier, had made each other their favorite coffee (dark roast for Tony, and a latte for Peter), and cuddled up together on the couch.

The room was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the brightly and colorfully decorated Christmas tree in the center. It was rather beautiful, and even the early hour couldn't mar the contentment the couple felt right then, lying in each others arms. 

"How much time do you think we have left?" Peter asked, taking a sip from his cup.

Tony squeezed the arm he had wound around his husband a bit, and planted a soft kiss on Peter's temple.

"Probably not much longer. I'm actually surprised Ben hasn't-" Which was the exact moment that a joyfully shrill, childish scream echoed through the floor. Tony chuckled. "-woken up yet. You ready, sweetheart."

Peter looked up at his husband with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Merry Christmas, Peter."

They shared a sweet kiss, just before their little bundle of joy came running into the room.

"Mommy, Daddy, look, look! Santa brought me my super secret wish, even though I didn't get to tell him! Look, look!"

And right there, cradled clumsily in his arms, Ben was holding a little puppy. An actual, life, puppy. As in, tail wagging, tongue lolling, alive. Peter was just able to hide his surprise and pull his son plus wiggling puppy dog into a warm hug. 

"That's great, Benny. Do you have a name for him?"

Ben nodded with so much enthusiasm, that the brunette worried for a moment he would get dizzy.

"Imma call him Ninja. Cause Santa got him for me, and Santa taught auntie Nat how to be a super-spy. And Ninja's are like the greatest super-spies."

Tony grinned and scooped up both the four year old and puppy to give Ben a loving hug and ruffle his hair.

"That's a great name, bud. How about you and Ninja take a look at all the gifts lying under the tree, while your mom and I make some breakfast and find something for your dog to eat."

Ben couldn't shimmy out of his father's lap fast enough, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he sat down the puppy and the both of them ran to the large Christmas tree.

"Remember that you can only open one before breakfast, young man."

"Okay!"

Then the two adults quickly got up and walked into the adjacent kitchen. Peter pinned Tony with a scolding look.

"I thought we had decided that Ben is too young for a dog."

Tony scoffed.

"Yes, we did. So why did you get him one?"

Peter faltered.

"I didn't... I thought you did."

But Tony shook his head.

"Not me... Wait. If you didn't get him a dog, and I didn't get him a dog..."

Peter's eyes widened.

"Friday, show us the footage of Ben's room. Who brought in the puppy?"

A small holographic window appeared before the couple, showing Ben sleeping in his bed. Then it looked like little ice crystals glittered in the air, and formed the shape of a tall, slightly round, person. When the glitter disappeared, a man in a red coat, with a white, but rather short beard, and likewise short and white hair was standing before little Ben's bed. He did not have the figure of the classic Santa Claus from the story books. No big, round belly, for one. The clothes fit, and he certainly looked old enough, but he was wearing big sun glasses? (Actually, the man reminded Tony of Hugh Hefner) In his hands was a sleeping little puppy (Ninja), that he carefully deposited next to the sleeping boy. Then the man stepped back from the bed, and closer to the camera in the corner of the ceiling, and looked right into it. 

"Thank you, Peter and Tony, for everything you have done for the people of this world. And for working so hard to keep your son's faith alive for a little longer. You know, my friends call me Stan. Merry Christmas."

Then the man (Santa? Stan?) was enveloped in the little ice crystals again, and vanished in the next second. The hologram continued showing a sleeping Ben and an equally sleeping puppy.

Peter gaped. 

"Was... was that..."

"Friday? Why the hell didn't you wake us when some stranger entered our son's room?"

"My sensors have not detected any foreign presence in the young masters room. I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about, boss."

Now Tony was gaping.

The sound of their son's happy exclamation when he unpacked one of his many gifts brought both parent's out of their stupor, and they looked first back to Ben, then at each other, still not quite willing to believe what they had just seen.

"... So, Stan, huh? Do you think that puppy is magical?"

Peter couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Tony joined in soon after. 

God how he loved them. His husband and his son. And his (possibly magical) puppy. 

____________________________________________________________

The End

 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! 

(Okay, I know it's still quite a few days until Christmas, but I hope you will all have a wonderful and magical time with all your loved ones!)

[multiple-fandom-imagines]

The Ghost Artist

So this was originally meant to be an imagine but I ended up writing it more as a one-shot because I got an idea. I also have an idea for a part two as well.

Klaus x reader, Ben x reader Five x Reader

Seeing and interacting with the dead is a straight pain in the ass. You could see and interact with them since birth, so you were seen as a freak to people outside your family and you saw yourself as cursed but little did you know it was because of the day you were born, along with 42 others.

Growing up lots of ghosts came and gone of all different times and deaths, they in a weird way were friendlier than people who were alive, it weirded out your family that you preferred the dead over the living. You were also a great artist, you drew the ghosts that came to you. Today was no different, you were sat in a corner of Griddy’s with a coffee and donut, you were reading a book engrossed in a thriller. Your attention moved when a weirdly dressed man wearing a tie-dye tank top, green sleeveless army jacket, and black skinny leather jeans? With a grumpy kid in a school uniform. Within a blink you noticed a third person, you could tell he was dead, there was a blue glow to him which gave it away.

It was how you could tell if someone was alive or dead, taking out your brown drawing book you started to sketch him, the more you drew him the more connected you became. The male became of aware what was happening, you looked up from your drawing to see the ghost was now sitting opposite you. “I apologize for intruding, it’s just habit.” You said to him, he looked stunned, “Y-You can see me?” he asked, you nodded “I’ve been able to see and communicate with the dead since birth. Some ghosts are a lot nicer than others but in my opinion, I find ghost nicer that alive people.” He hummed in response while watching you draw “I like to use these powers to help spirits give messages to people they care about. Just a warning the more we connect I might see how you die, I can’t really stop it, it just started happening recently.” Ben listened to every word, he was happy to be able to talk to someone other than his brother. “Maybe my brother could help, Klaus can communicate with the dead too.” You grabbed a green pencil to add extra shading to the hood “I’m not sure, I prefer t keep this to myself. People are not usually kind to people who are different.” He nodded understanding how your felt “What’s your name anyway, I like to sign each picture with the spirit’s name.” he smiled exactly “It’s ben, C-Can I see it.” You signed the picture before setting it on the table, turning it so Ben could see it. You see his face light up looking at it. “that’s amazing…”

“Y/n.” you answered, “That’s amazing Y/N, this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me.” You felt your heart warm at his comment. The calm light atmosphere between the both of you was short lived when the loud man from earlier threw himself into the booth beside Ben. You tried to grab your book before he could see the picture, but as you pulled it away his hand landed on the book. “That’s a really cool drawing. Wait a mo-.” he turned the book back around to get a better look. “Ben? You drew Benny boy.” He lifted the book “Holy shit… you can see him!” Ben looked pissed, he was mad his brother was bothering you and make you uncomfortable. “Klaus give the book back!” Ben shouted

“Wow, such hostility brother, I’m only admiring the Ghost artist’s work.” You watched as he flipped through the pages, you weren’t good with people in general so confrontation was like hell. “P-Please can I-I have it back.” Your voice was small almost like a whisper. “Are all these people dead. You can see ghosts like me?” you could only nod, his face lit up and his questions started to fly out of him like an excited child. It was becoming overwhelming fast, suddenly the kid stormed over snapping the book from Klaus hand, closing it and handing it to you. “I’m so sorry about my idiot brother bothering you. I hope he didn’t annoy you much.” Klaus put a hand over his heart “I’m offended Five… I would say incredibly handsome bro- OW!” Five whacked the back of his head before ordering an “Up!” pulling him roughly away from the booth. “Again, I’m sorry.” Five said pulling him away towards the diner’s exit before he could get him out Klaus shouted to you. “hopefully we can meet again ghost artist!”, Five whacked him again, you saw Ben was gone too. You let out a sigh trying to wrap your head around what just happened. You looked out the window to see them getting into a car, Klaus waved in at you before being pulled in.

Eventually, you went along your day, stopping to picking up new drawing pencils before heading to your apartment. You let your self in, hanging up your coat, you walked into the kitchen making yourself a coffee before sitting in your favourite armchair in the living room. You felt a gush of cold air brushing past you making you shiver. You grabbed your drawing book and pencils getting ready for the spirit, you looked up seeing a solider “Hi, I’m Y/N, who am I specking too?” the solider looked around, you could tell this was his first manifestation. He looked at you, “Dave, my name is Dave.”

[forever-rogue]

The Edge of Thirty - Part 6

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.  

A/N: Thanks for your continued support on this series, lads! I’m glad you’re still liking it, as am I. Enjoy! Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: drama, language

MASTERLIST

"Good morning, love," Ben strolled into her classroom, cup of coffee in his outstretched hand and another near his lips. Y/N looked up from her lesson plan, giving him a small smile as he walked over and set the cup down on her desk. He paused for a moment, leaned up against her and studied her tired face, the dark circles prominent, even under a healthy dose of concealer, "what's wrong?"

"Didn't get much sleep last night," she admitted, hoping to keep the conversation short. But, that was likely never going to happen under Ben's prying eyes, which she knew, but decided it was worth a try. After a few moments of stunted silence, he drummed his fingers along her desk, waiting for her to continue on, "okay, fine. Gwilym asked me to be his girlfriend. And he's my date to the wedding this weekend. It’s all been floating around my head.”

"I do hope you told him yes," Ben eyed her intently, keen to gauge her reaction. Her jaw tensed for just a fraction of a second before she looked up at him, and gave him a slight nod, "okay...then why the hesitation? Clearly something's up."

"N-nothing's wrong-"

"Then why were you up thinking about it all night?" Ben cut her off, taking away any chance of her lying to him. Sometimes she wished she could lie to him, even though it probably wouldn’t have been successful. It was almost like he knew her better than she knew herself at times, “I know I’m onto something, I can tell by the way your jaw tenses. It’s minute and others probably can’t tell, but I can, I’ve known for years. Spill.”

“Fine, Benny, fine,” she sighed and beckoned for him to take a seat. She had gotten to work plenty early and they had a while before even the earliest of her students arrived. He hopped onto the desk and swung his legs back and forth, intently waiting for her to start, “can we do this as friends? Not as Dr. Jones and his patient?”

“Just Y/N and Ben,” he reassured, taking a sip from his own coffee. She sighed and hung her head for a second, trying to gather herself before admitting her down feelings out loud. She had been trying to drown out the voices and busied herself with a series of small time wasting tasks so she wouldn’t retreat too far into her own mind, “go on, love, it’s just me.”

“It’s James,” she confessed quietly, focusing her gaze onto the floor, instead of looking up and making eye contact with Ben. Gnawing her bottom lip, which was already bruised and dried from the same actions form the previous day, she hissed a little bit. Ben remained silent, wanting her to go on at her own pace, “he’s been on my mind a lot lately. I can’t shake the feeling of him.”

“I had a feeling,” Ben said quietly, giving her the tiniest of reassuring smiles. He had seen the panicked look on her face when Lucy had mentioned him at dinner the week prior and how she had retreated from the conversation. He had a feeling that the those feelings were bound to come up since things were getting serious with Gwil. Even though Ben had yet to meet him, he knew that Y/N was serious about him, even if she wasn’t willing to admit it. She hadn’t keep any man around that long...not since James.

“Of course, you know me inside and out. Probably better than I even know myself,” she let out a hollow chuckle, putting her hands around the warm cup of coffee, trying to keep herself preoccupied, “mum even brought it up a few weeks ago. It’s just kind of been nagging at the back of my mind ever since.”

“Ever since Gwil?” he ventured and she let out a long sigh and a nod, finally meeting his gaze. She was glad to see that it was just him that was looking back at her, just her lifelong friend Ben, “well, how do you feel about him?”

“I like him...a lot,” she admitted. The image of his handsome face flooding her mind as she remembered how gently he had been holding her when she woke up the previous morning. He had been fast asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady pattern, his lips parted slightly, and hair mussed. It had been a beautiful sight to behold, and hadn’t wanted it to end, but unfortunately, as with most things in life, the time came when they had to part ways. She didn’t know how she had developed such intense feelings for him so quickly, but the truth of undeniable: there was something about Gwil and she couldn’t get enough of him.

“Then what’s the problem?” he tilted his head to the side and watched as she seemed to struggle to find an answer. After a few moments of silence, he said in his most gentle voice, “if you’re worried that things are moving too fast, perhaps you could just tell him you want to take things slow? He seems very understanding.”

“He is...he’s almost perfect,” she agreed. She had asked him to be patient with her, and he had readily confirmed that he would do just that. But how long was he willing to wait? How slow was too slow? The idea of losing him was terrifying, but the idea of getting more serious with him was just the same. It was like being between a rock and a hard place, with no conceivable way out, “I’m just scared. This is all...so new. But it’s not at the same time. What if...I lose him too?”

“Love. you’re not going to lose him,” Ben wished he could take away all her fears and doubts, but he knew it was no use. The worry would always could her mind, and all he or anyone, could do was to be there for her, “what happened to James wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. A horrible, horrible accident, but it was not due to you. No one could have predicted that would happen.”

“You’d be blaming yourself too if you were in my position,” she countered, “he was coming to pick me up, Ben, because I had been out drinking. He was coming to get me because I couldn’t stop myself from having a few too many drinks. It’s my fault he got killed, Ben. It’s pretty cut and dry. If I had just stayed home, he’d still be alive. He’d be here and we’d be married. But the truth of the matter is that my reality is so far from that. I ruined everything.”

“Y/N, the truth is so far from that,” Ben slid off the desk and walked over to her, gently putting his hand on top of hers, “it isn’t your fault. It was someone else’s. As much as you want to hate yourself for it, you need to stop. It’s not healthy, and love, no one blames you. You’re never going to move on if you keep hanging onto the guilt.”

“It’s not that easy,” she let a small huff. She wished she could get him to understand what she was feeling, but couldn’t figure out to express it. It was either something you understood or you didn’t. And Ben clearly didn’t, “you don’t have to live with the crippling guilt that your actions lead to someone else’s death. I think about it almost every day. Imagine how different our lives would be if James was still here.”

“But he isn’t,” Ben interrupted her, trying not to sound firm but not too harsh, “and you have to accept that. I’m not trying to be mean, but nothing is going to bring him back. And if you’re even remotely serious with Gwil, you need to accept this fact. It isn’t fair to him either if you’re only giving him a part of you when he’s giving you all of him.”

She sucked in her breath, and held it for a few moments, mulling over his words. He was right, she couldn’t deny that. Gwilym was a gentleman, a kind, generous man that deserved a woman that loved him as much as he loved her. She just wasn’t sure if that would be her. But she didn’t want to waste his time either.

“You’re right as usual, Benny,” she gently pulled her hand from his hand, but not before giving his a gentle squeeze, “he’s great, truly. He deserves the world. I mean - we had what would likely should have been a one night stand but no, he wanted more. The man made me breakfast and walked my dogs for goodness’ sake! How is he even real?!”

“He sounds like a keeper to me,” Ben had listened to her gush over him for the last several weeks and he felt like he already knew him, “it’s okay to be nervous, Y/N, scared even. But you don’t have to shut him out.”

“I know…it’s time to move on; but I can’t help but feel a bit guilty,” she finally took a long sip of her coffee, “it’s just…hard to get over. Even after all these years. It’s hard to picture a different future when you had been so set on a specific outcome.”

“It’s been five years, Y/N,” he leaned down and gently kissed the top of her, “you can let go. It’s okay to remember him and miss him, but it’s okay to move on. He would want you to, and you know it. He was so full of life and love and would want you to be the same.”

“You think so?” she felt the familiar tingle of tears pop in her eyes, and quickly grabbed a tissue to dab at her eyes.

“I know so. We all knew James, and it is what he would have wanted. If the situation was reversed wouldn’t you want him to be happy?” Ben posed question and she immediately knew the answer- of course she would want him to be happy.

“Yes,” she agreed, “I would want him to be very happy.”

“There you go, love,” he looked at his watch and realized it was almost time to go to his office, “I know it won’t be easy, but you’ve got to try. Have - have you told Gwil about all of this?”

“No,” she said quietly. She probably should have told him…he had asked if there have been serious relationships and she had all but lied. Not a great start, “I should tell him, huh? Do you think he’ll upset?”

“I think you should tell him and I don’t think he could ever be upset about something like that,” he encouraged her and she gave a weak nod, “listen, I’ve got to go, my first session is soon. We’ll talk later. Just think about what I said.”

“Bye Ben,” she watched him go with a small wave. He was right, of course, as always. Telling Gwil was the right thing to do if there was any hope of furthering their relationship. And she wanted to take it further…right? Who wouldn’t want to be able to call Gwilym Lee theirs?

Almost as though he could read her thoughts, Y/N’s phone lit up with a few texts from Gwil:

Good morning beautiful.

I hope you have an excellent day.

Did you remember lunch today? Or should I stop by and drop something off?

It sent a flurry of emotions throughout her body, as she read over his words. He was so sweet - he had made it a habit of always sending good morning and good night texts if they weren’t together. And the fact that he wanted to make sure she had lunch was a whole other story. She was lucky to have found someone like him, that much she knew. But the last thing she was for some sort of hurt or harm to come to him.

Picking up her phone, she played with it for a few moments, contemplating on whether or not to text him back. Leaving him hanging was probably a bad idea since he had gotten so used to her responsiveness and knew she wasn’t due to start class for a little while; he might get worried. She also didn’t want to run the risk of having him come by the school and someone seeing them together. She wanted to keep him separate from her work life for the time being – at least until Crickle calmed down and left her alone.

Sighing, she unlocked her the phone, a heaviness lingering in her fingers as she tapped to read his messages in full. She scrolled up and scanned over several older messages, her heart aching a bit. He was just too good to be true and that usually meant things wouldn’t last long.

Thanks, bub. No need for lunch, Ben’s got me covered. Have a good day, and I’ll talk to you later.

She didn’t want to sound too distant, but not too clingy. She was still stuck, at least in her own head, on how to proceed with Gwil. With him, she could already tell it was going to be all or nothing. He had been right – he was a man in his mid-thirties who wasn’t interested in fooling around and wasting his time and he didn’t deserve that. But the idea of being completely serious with him was her only hesitation. She aimed to protect herself and him in the process. Just as the first of her students started to trickle in, her screen lit up again with a new message from him:

What’s wrong? Are you okay?

It was astounding that from a few mere words, written on top of it, he was able to deduce that she wasn’t all there. Squeezing her eyes shut and stuffing the phone in her desk drawer, she greeted the first of her arrivals with a big smile on her face.

“Good morning, love bugs!” she got up and gave them all a hug, as was customary for her. She often regarding them as more than just her students, they were almost like her kids, and she wanted nothing more than the best for them. It was going to be hard when the end of the school year approached and they’d gone to the next year, but she decided not to think about that. They were hers for now, and like with Gwil, she was going to make the best of everything while it lasted.

“Ms. L/N,” the small, squinty eyed old headmaster rapped his knuckles against her doorway, a small on his face that she didn’t quite like. She gave him her best and most charming smile as she beckoned for him to come in.

“Good afternoon, Headmaster,” she had just been packing up, ready to scurry out for the day. She knew he had told her to keep her afternoons clear but she wasn’t expecting it so soon. Trying to remain calm, she swallowed the lump in her throat, “please come in. To what to do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was hoping had time to speak this afternoon? Regarding your evaluation,” he came into the room, taking a seat at one of the abandoned desks in the front of the room. Of course. He watched her like a hawk, trying to gauge her reaction, and she tried her best to maintain a neutral facade.

“Certainly. I’ve kept my schedule clear as per your wishes,” her voice was saccharine as she leaned against her desk. She wasn’t about to start a fight, but she wouldn’t back down from one either, “please, carry on.”

“Thank you,” he leaned forward in his seat, taking off his glasses and polishing them on his handkerchief, “you see, Miss L/N, I’m at a bit of a dilemma here. A crossroads even, you might say.”

“Oh? And just what has caused this crossroads?” deciding to feign innocence seemed like a better idea than to just start spewing out any defenses. That didn’t stop the erratic beating of her heart though - she was sure he could hear it.

“Mr. Redson was thoroughly impressed with how you handled your class. He claims that you were competent, attentive, and that the children listened well to you. And I must add that I’ve never received a complaint from any parents,” there was a but coming. No doubt about it. He observed her momentarily, his cold gaze taking over her, sending shivers down her spine, “however, I do have some concerns.”

“I fail to follow your train of thought, Headmaster. If there are no issues with my professional ability, then there should be no concerns,” Y/N struggled to keep her voice even, without coming across as too harsh or too weak. But she could sense what direction this was heading in. It had been her worst nightmare come true.

“You’re very young, Miss L/N,” he would never have told Ben this. Ben, who was the exact same age with the same amount of experience. He adored him but seemed to abhor her for whatever reason, “and I understand it can be hard to know what is and isn’t appropriate. What you do outside of work is your own business-”

“Then what’s the problem?” she couldn’t bite back her quick reflex as he glared at her.

“But when your outside life starts to affect your work performance or affects your standard of professionalism, I cannot ignore it,” he sighed halfheartedly, getting up from the desk and crossing his arms over his board chest, “I’ve heard reports from several concerned coworkers about your weekend…excursions, and I did not forget what I happened upon in your classroom last week.”

“People are rumor mongers, Headmaster. I know there are several people who are not my biggest fans, for whatever reason. They have no right to my private life…and as far as last week, I assure it was a one time moment of indiscretion,” she felt like she was grasping at straws, desperately trying to get him to see reason. His expression remained neutral and unchanged as he listened to he stammer on.

“It cannot happen again,” he said quietly, “what if it had been a parent that had walked in? Or a child?”

“I could have explained everything just as well,” she hung her head in defeat, knowing the struggle was a lost cause. He had made up his mind about; then again she figured he had formed his opinion on her the day they had met and a frown had appeared on his face.

“I cannot have you tarnishing the image of this establishment,” he finally came out with it. It was his opinion, a wrong opinion, but he seemed hellbent on bringing her down and was unlikely to change his position, “you still have much growing up to do and a lot to learn. I’m hoping that this will do you some good.”

“Hoping what will do me some good?” she parroted back at him, eyes wide as saucers as panic set into her bones, the knot in her stomach growing exponentially, “what are you going to do to me?”

“I’m sorry for doing this, but after much consideration, and input from your close friend Dr. Jones, I’ve come to the conclusion that a suspension might do you some good,” her jaw fell open at his words as he seemed unphased at her reaction, “nothing permanent, but I think a weeks off will give you time to think and gather yourself. Three weeks, effective tomorrow. I’ve lined up a substitute for your class, so please make sure to leave your lesson plans out.”

“I-I…this isn’t fair!” she huffed, throwing her hands up in frustration. The familiar prick was at the back of her eyes as she tried to get him to see reason. There had to be other options, “please…please don’t do this. My kids-”

“They will be in fine and more than capable hands, Miss L/N. Gather your things and head out for the day,” he gave her a look of disdain as headed for the door, resting a hand on the knob before turning back to her, “I’ll see you in three weeks. Then we can discuss a course of action, if one is deemed to be necessary. Good day.”

“B-but…this isn’t fair,” she claimed meekly, clutching onto the side of her desk for support. Her knees felt weak and shaking as she processed the news of what was happening. Suspended - it was like she was a student back in school herself. And for no good reason - her personal life was supposed to be just that…personal.

Annoyed and angry, she started throwing her things into her bag to take them home. Her lesson plans were peeking out of her folder on the edge of the desk, calling out to her. Grabbing the papers, she ripped them into tiny shreds before dumping them into the waste bin. If she wasn’t allowed to use them, then no else could either. It was petty and childish, but it felt extremely good in that moment. 

Suddenly she remembered -

“Ben,” she threw her bag over her shoulder and stormed out of the classroom, walking briskly down the hall to his office. Not even bothering to knock, or asking if someone was in there, she threw open the door, chest rising and falling rapidly in anger. A young boy met her gaze, unnerved by her actions as Ben turned to stare at her in surprise.

“Y/N, I’m in the middle of a session,” he glanced nervously at his student as she stared at him in annoyance, “you need to leave…”

“Fuck you, you arrogant bastard!” she shouted at him, taking her empty coffee cup and hurling at his head, “I’ve been suspended for three weeks! And you were in cahoots with Crickle this whole time?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he put up his hands defensively as narrowed her eyes and glared at him. He gestured for the young boy to leave, and he quickly scampered away, looking nervous as ever as he slipped behind Y/N and out the door.

“Don’t lie to me, Ben! How could you do this? You were supposed to be my best friend,” her vision was clouded with tears as he tried to figure out what in the world she was going on about. He hastily stood up to try and approach her, but she backed up and held out her hand to keep him at bay.

“Y/N, I am your best friend! What the hell happened?” his voice went up an octave, as he grew and annoyed and frustrated with her short answers. Things had gone so well that same morning, he didn’t have a clue as to what caused the dramatic switch.

“You act so sweet and innocent, Ben, but is that the real you? You threw me under the bus,” her face became red splotched as anger coursed through her veins, “Crickle told me. He told me he spoke to you and you told him I should be suspended! How could you do this to me?”

“You need to listen to me - you don’t understand,” realization set in and he finally knew what she was referring to. Crickle had approached him the week prior to try and get dirt on Y/N, but Ben had remained stoic and given him short answers. But the old Headmaster with a vendetta had basically presented him with two options: she could be fired or suspended. Obviously Ben had opted for the latter. He had meant to tell her, but it had somehow slipped his mind with everything that was going on.

“Oh, I don’t understand? You’re right, I don’t understand how you could do this. I am a good teacher, Ben, you know that,” she dabbed the stray tears cascaded down her cheeks. She abhorred letting anyone see her cry; she always took it as a sign of weakness even when it wasn’t, “now I don’t know if I’ll have a job in three weeks. Is that what you wanted? You are his golden boy after all. I know I’m not perfect Ben, but I’ve been trying, okay? Trying so hard and then you go and do this. I thought we had settled our scores.”

“You need to listen to me, Y/N,” he sighed quietly, “I had to tell him that! It was that or you getting fired! I had no choice but to tell him that.”

“Everything is a choice,” her voice cracked as she headed towards the door, “everything. And you chose to so this, so thanks I suppose. Maybe I’ll see you in three weeks once that suspension is lifted. Or maybe you’ll tell that old scumbag just to fire me, and maybe you should. I trusted you, I always have.”

“You’re not thinking clearly right now,” he tried to stop but she stepped into the wall and out of his grip, “don’t do this, Y/N. Please, we can talk about this once you’ve calmed down.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Dr. Jones,” she spat at him, looking down the long hallway to see that it was thankfully deserted, “I’m not one of your patients and I’m not interested in your excuses. You’re supposed to defend me. I would have done that for you.”

“Y/N, don’t walk away,” he was almost begging her at this point. How he wished she could just see reason - but she was a hot head and it was hard to get her to cool down. She shook her head as she walked away, “don’t do this! Don’t do something rash that you’ll regret!”

She lifted her hand flipped him off over shoulder as she continued to walk away. Something rash sounded exactly like what she wanted to do in that moment. There wasn’t much left to lose at this point after all. It felt like she was all alone once again, especially without her best friend in her corner.

Once she got home, she tossed her bag onto the floor kicked off her shoes and plopped on the couch, letting out a long sigh. She wasn’t crying anymore, she had gotten out all her tears on the drive home, and was left in a state somewhere between anger and despair. Normally, when she was in a funk like this, Deacon would come to her and shower her in cuddles and wet nosed kisses, but today there were none. 

She had taken him to over to her neighbors, whose kids loved to play with him. On occasion, she’d let them dog-sit her so Deacon could get some play time in. Right now she regretted that decision because there was no one to cuddle with when that was what she needed the most.

Her phone started to vibrate from where she had set it on the glass coffee table, working it’s way towards the edge, getting close to falling over. Sighing, she grabbed it and saw that it was Ben calling for what seemed like the millionth time. Sending it to voicemail, she quickly turned on do not disturb to avoid any further interruptions. Tonight it was just going to be her and The Office, and a bottle of wine, or two, she wasn’t sure quite sure yet.

After a few episodes in, and having downed more than her fair share of wine, followed by a few stronger drinks, Y/N found herself lying on the couch, curled up and clutching a pillow. She looked a mess: hair was in a mussed bun, eyes bloodshot and mascara tear tracks were on her face. She felt about as good as she looked, but her senses were slowly getting clouded by her the alcohol in her system.

Her eyelids were starting to feel heavier and heavier and the voices of Jim, Pam, and Dwight were more and more distant sounding. Sleep was ready to claim her until a loud pounding came at the door. She sat up at attention, her head spinning at the sudden motion. It was late, nearing one in the morning, and she had no clue who it could be. Opting to ignore it, the person on the other side seemed to sense what she was doing because they carried on knocking.

“Y/N! Open the door, I can hear you in there,” it was Gwil. Of course. She couldn’t hide from him either - she knew he had likely been texting her all evening. He was probably worried at her lack of response, “love, let me in.”

She slowly got up, trying to keep her balance as she clambered to the door, opening it just enough to see his face. His azure eyes swept over her, and immediately became concerned as he came to the conclusion that something was wrong.

“’m fine, Gwil,” she said slowly, trying her best not to slur her speech. 

“Oh love, what’s happened?” he waited for to open the door further and let him in, but was surprised to find that she wouldn’t. Instead, she found herself staring at the floor as he waited, somewhat impatiently for an answer, “Y/N? Please let me in, talk to me…”

“I-I can’t,” she could already feel the water works coming on and knew that if she dared to meet his eyes that there would be no holding back. She cursed herself for drinking as much as she did - she should have known by now that Gwil would have been concerned and come looking for her.

“Can’t or won’t?” he reached up and touched her face gently in the small gap, wiping away some of the dried mascara, “have you been drinking?”

“Yes,” she confessed making it sound like such a horrible sin. She took her hand and put it gently on top of his, relishing in the feeling of his soft touch before removing it, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Please tell me what’s going on,” there was a slight tone of desperation in his voice as she opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for the words. After a few moments of tense silence, he let out a long breath, “don’t shut me out, love. You can tell me anything, you know that. Why have you been drinking? You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts…”

“I put do not disturb on,” she confessed, glancing in the direction of her abandoned phone, “just…a lot of stuff happened today.”

“What happened?” he gave her some gentle push back, hoping that she’d open up, “please talk to me.”

“I can’t do this,” she stated suddenly, blurting out the words before she even had time to fully comprehend them. A look of confusion crossed his face as he tried to understand what she was referring to. In that moment she wasn’t sure either - was it the current conversation, was it everything in general, or was it him?

“Can’t do what?’ his voice was low, and had a gritty quality to it as he awaited his answer. His heart was beginning to sink lower and lower into his chest. He knew she was scared, that something had been holding her back, but could never pinpoint it, although he wanted to. He had a feeling that he would get there eventually, and was willing to wait, but not like this.

“Us,” she said finally, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife, “I...think.”

“Us,” he repeated, running a hand over his stubble as he looked at her bleary eyes. He was sure she wasn’t thinking straight; that the alcohol was affecting her judgment, “and just when did you reach this conclusion? I told you I want to be with you, Y/N, but only if you’re willing to be with me. What does you think mean? I don’t want to play games.”

“I-I dunno,” she rested her forehead against the door. She wished she could sink in the floor and redo this whole day. Instead, it just kept getting worse and worse, “I’m not good enough for you, Gwil. I’m just this messed up kid who doesn’t know what they’re doing and keep screwing things up. I just can’t seem to do anything right. And you, you’re the picture of perfection. We don’t go together, and I can’t hold you back. You deserve the world, and I cannot give that to you.”

“I don’t want the world,” his tone was exasperated as he watched her, her eyes starting to glass over, “I want you. I don’t care that you’re not perfect, because neither am I. I’m just as messed up as you. I want to be with you.”

“I don’t know why,” she almost laughed as a few tears escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks before dropping to the ground in silent plops. Gwil watched her with such adoration, wondering why she didn’t see herself the way he saw her, “I just push people away when they get to close and I make bad decisions, and I don’t know if I can ever fully open up to someone...I’m trying but it’s hard. And you shouldn’t have to wait.”

“I can tell you why I want to be with you,” he swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat, trying to even his tone and not totally lose his collected appearance, “because I’m in love with you.”

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[mooleche]

A Story of Ink and Venom - Chap. 5

A/N - Someone wicked this way comes! Some new revelations revealed and Nina is tasked with an important request after some distressing news! There are some french translations in here that I’m not quite sure how to post on here so if you’re curious to know what they say I can make a separate post to explain what they translate to! As always I hope you enjoy and if you’d like to be tossed onto the notifications list lemme know! 

Tagged - @leo-writer @master-sass-blast

Chapter 5: Preparation

I dreamt of blood.

Of tendons snapping and muscle being torn in two.

Heard the inescapable screams of terror in a void of nightmares that had me tossing and turning all night.

Then I saw them again. Those milky white eyes that narrowed as they set their sights on me, soon replaced by a gaping maw full of jagged teeth that were ready to tear into my skin like it was paper.

Then I woke with a small, terrified gasp. 

It was just a nightmare. This is what I had to tell myself as I stared at the ceiling and tried to calm my racing thoughts. My heart continued to pound and my clothes were damp with sweat from my troubled sleep. But the longer I laid there the more aware I became of my surroundings. A soft melody weaved in and out of my hearing and the hues of blue and pink of our hanging lights danced in my blurred vision. It was noticing this that I was finally able to release a sigh of relief as I was able to remind myself of two important things:

I was home. And I was safe. 

Beside me, the bed creaked and I turned my head to find Ava sitting cross-legged by my curtained window, hand over her mouth in serious concentration as she stared at her laptop screen. I made the effort to sit up and felt my entire body seize up with pain.

“Ah, she awakens,” her husky morning voice announced beside me as a groan of pain escaped me. I struggled to make the minimal effort to turn to her, only to be met with her hand that held my glasses and a bottle that she rattled at me.

“Drink up, Princesa. You’re gonna need these for the day ahead,”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I murmured as I accepted and downed them graciously. They could have been horse tranquilizers and I wouldn’t have cared, the pain that my body felt as I sat up had me almost wishing I was still facing those nightmares. Just the brief thought of reliving them made my stomach churn though, and I quickly tried to ignore it and press through the pain instead. 

I slumped over on Ava’s shoulder and sighed, a small chuckle escaping her as she carefully moved a piece of hair away from my face.

“Surprised you’re even awake right now, you outdrank all of us,” she teased as I held my head, now fully feeling the effects of my terribly thought out decisions last night. That was right, we had drunk last night to calm our nerves. Despite being desperate to escape the conversation we spent almost all night talking about it. Ava and Benni assured me the news hadn’t caught wind of my participation that they were aware of, only that there had been no bodies at the scene. 

That alone left me both relieved and terrified for Spiderman and whatever remains were of Deadpool.

If there were any at all.

I shook my head sluggishly to rid myself of the thought before looking to Bambi and Benni who were haphazardly sprawled along Bam’s bed, still very much unconscious.

“Why are you awake?” I asked Ava groggily, taking every motion delicately as the room continued to spin. 

She raised a brow at me and smirked.

“You think a little booze is going to cause me to break schedule? Pfft, I’m Latina, bebita. But also,” she added, pointing to the floor and frowning, “You really need to answer that thing. It’s been going off since 7.”

I went to ask her what she meant but then I heard it. The low rumble of my phone vibrating against the carpet. At that moment my hangover was completely disregarded and pain tossed aside as I slid to the ground and fished for it desperately. Ava watched me, perched from above, curiosity now wrinkling her brows as I found the source to the buzzing and curled into a ball to suppress the pain. 

All I could muster was a soft ‘oh no’ when I saw what was on the lock screen. 

Ava inched closer to me to try and sneak a peek as I continued to stare, not daring to unlock it to see what fresh hell was waiting for me inside. "What's going on?"

A soft 'oh' left her lips as I showed her. A handful of messages and mixed calls littered the screen, the fear you only felt when you missed 10 calls from your mother when you were a teen hitting my core as I swiped it open.

Only this fear was brought by missing the calls of my mother, father, AND Renato.

I swallowed hard and scanned the messages. All worried, all sent at various times during the night and this morning:

‘Honey, we just saw the news. Are you alright?’ ‘You’re not picking up. Did something happen?’ ‘We’re very worried. Pls respond!’ - Mom

*‘Mon chéri? Nous sommes inquiets pour vous’ ‘Appelez s'il vous plaît’ - Dad

‘Are you home? -R’ ‘Nina? -R’  ‘Look. I know you’re still recovering from last night but something has happened. Come to the lab ASAP. -R’ ‘Again, it’s URGENT. -R’ ‘Also, call your parents. -R’ - Renato

My gut twisted further with guilt as I read various texts from them all, but the last few from Renato worried me the most. It was sent almost half an hour ago and my imagination was going in every direction it could with what could have happened.

He rarely sent texts out to people, even when it was an emergency. What if something happened to him? What if that thing came back for it’s missing piece? What if it pulled an Alien and created a Chest Burster inside of him?? 

I had to go and see what was going on. 

I uncurled myself from my position before releasing a groan of discomfort, moving from one awkward position to another as I attempted to summon the strength to get up. It didn't work. Lying half off the bed beside me Bambi began to stir.

“Nina? What’s going on?” she yawned, rubbing her eyes as she unshifted from her own awkward position to sit up and watch my staggered efforts. Benni gave a soft snore next to her but remained still. I was fully convinced that we could have dropped a bomb on the city and she’d have stayed asleep during it.

“I have to go to the Professor’s office. Something's wrong,” I winced, finally finding my footing and attempting to poorly stretch to try and subdue the pain. While it didn't do much to help with it, it did help me understand where the source was. I tenderly touched my side only to recoil back as the shock of pain it sent. It was almost exactly where I had landed after the creature had flung me, bringing a series of uncomfortable pictures to my head before I could shake them away.

“What?!” Both Ava and Bambi asked in unison at my announcement, watching me shuffle awkwardly to my wardrobe that had seen better days. Bambi was now wide awake at this point and stood to meet me, a heavy frown set on her once pouty lips.

“Please tell me you’re not going, especially after last night-”

“Last night is just as much my issue as it is Renato’s, Bam. Who knows, maybe he just found out something interesting about that gunk,” I tried to reassure both her and myself as I began to rummage through my clothes. We were assigned two wardrobe closets to a dorm at the beginning of the year and expected to fit all of our belongings inside. While Bambi had somehow made hers always look presentable. Mine was everything but, and I now struggled as I attempted to rip a cute yellow hoodie with ‘Good Vibes’ written in a cute font across the front out of its clutches for the day ahead.

I succeeded, only to fall back and have a mess of clothes topple onto me in the aftermath. Both Ava and Bambi shared a look of worry before Bambi knelt down to help me.

“I just...think it’s kind of bullshit he’s calling you in after everything. Especially with that,” she added as she pointed to my midriff, shirt now raised some to reveal a nasty looking bruise that had formed overnight. Underneath lurked a nastier looking scar from past events that I quickly hid and looked away, suddenly very aware of my flaws.

“Bambi, *déjalo!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” I managed quickly, not wanting to mention it any more than it already had been. Like a monkey's paw suddenly sensing my wish to change the subject we all turned to my phone that had begun to vibrate again. Ava, the closest to it, studied the notification before her hazel eyes grew wide. “What is it?” I asked hesitantly as she stood and quickly closed the distance between us, holding my phone at arm's length like it was a bomb.

When I saw who was calling it might as well have been.

It was my father.

“Oh no, no. Can't you just like...I don’t know, tell him I’m sleeping??” I asked desperately, a snort erupting from her as she held it closer, holding me captive against the wall now.

“You really think I’m gonna pull off lying to your dad? Get real,” she hissed back while swiping over the green telephone emote to accept the call. I pursed my lips angrily in response, knowing she had me at a stalemate before I accepted the phone in defeat.  "Ante up, bebita, you're on." she mouthed quietly as she and Bambi stood nearby quietly to listen. Even Benni's once peaceful snores were gone from the room as I prepared to completely BS my way through this conversation.

“Bonjour Papa!” I chimed into the receiver, knowing full well the I had just stepped into the lion’s den and had to be very careful about what was said. My father was as smart as he was strong, and the man had won a plethora of heavyweight titles before he retired. I had to be smart about where the conversation would go.

“Nina,” he started, dad tone already in full swing behind his heavy french accent. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning, *est-ce que tu vas bien? We saw the news and-”

“Oh right, the news.” I interrupted, clicking my tongue with thought as Bambi and Ava watched with wide eyes. I ignored them as I continued to search for the rest of my outfit in the mess I had created. “Wild stuff, right?”

“You didn’t get involved, did you?” he asked point-blank, my insides squirming as I pretended to scoff at his words.

“Me? Get involved? C’mon dad, *Avoir une certaine foi!” I grunted while struggling into a pair of leggings. He grunted back in response.

“I just worry, mon petite. Because reports say that a small mystery hero came in at the last second,”

“You don’t say,” I asked softly, hoodie stopped half over my body at these words. I wanted to curse. Sure, the news hadn't been able to record anything of my failed attempt at heroism, but I hadn't even thought about bystanders that might have seen.

“Oui, and she seemed to be wielding a hammer. A big black hammer that fell apart right after using it,” he pressed, my nerves getting the best of me as I scrambled to find proper words to say. “You sure you weren’t there?”

“Of course not." I started, tugging at my hair nervously as I began to feel myself ramble. "I-I was studying with the girls during the lock-in! Do you know how many superheroes are in New York? In Brooklynn for that matter? Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to take on that thing? Hah! Hah! You’re so funny, papa. Oh? What’s that? My phone is dying and I need to leave? What a very strange coincidence!” I laughed a little too loud into the phone, walking nervous circles in the room as Ava and Bambi watched with embarrassed stares.

“Nina-”

“I really gotta go, I did nothing wrong, ever!” I answered hastily before hanging up, pulling my hood over my face to hide from the heavy looks the girls were giving me. “Please, no commentary.”

“Smooth,” Ava whispered dryly as I shrugged and tossed my hands up in the air, immediately racked with another bout of pain. I struggled to shrug it off, instead focusing my attention on gathering my belongings to leave for the day. As I went to grab my bag I stopped, sheets of my old weapon schematics poking through that brought me back to the day before. I shook my head of the invasive thoughts wanting to pry through and removed them, knowing I had no business trying to use any of them anymore.

Behind me, Bambi took a seat on my bed and tugged at her sleeves nervously.

“You’re really not going to tell them?” she asked softly. The question made me stop abruptly and turn to her, disbelief in my eyes. 

“Do you want to explain to them how they almost lost their only child while she was out playing hero?” I shot back quickly. I knew she meant well, and I knew that this would most likely end up biting me in the ass at a later time. But I also had to keep this a secret from them until it was all figured out, there'd be no point otherwise.

Especially if it meant putting them in danger.

“That’s...fair,” she agreed quietly after a moment of silence, Ava joining her side on my bed as they watched me scramble to shove my clothes back in my wardrobe. “Do...you want some company with Renato?” she offered, but I could see the fear in her eyes of having to face that moment again. Of having to go back to the labs and seeing what could possibly be another nightmare waiting. She had suffered just as much as I did and I didn't want to force her through it again if she wasn't ready.

Instead, I shook my head and feigned a smile.

“It’s fine, I’m going to Renato’s and then straight to Drawing 2 after. I’ll pick up your SD card for you while I’m there though, yeah?”

She looked relieved at this and nodded. “You’re a lifesaver, Neeners.”

“I know it,” I teased before grabbing my helmet and sauntering out of the door. Before I could leave fully my phone went off. Inside a simple text from Benni read ‘Be careful!’, but when I looked to the bed she was still as motionless as ever and dead to the world.

How did she do that?

“Aye, keep us posted!” Ava shouted through the door as I left, a soft sigh of relief escaping my lips as I headed outside. Truth be told it was a bit of a relief to be away from them. All the worried looks, the fear we had all felt hanging like a miasma in the room. I needed to get away from it all, to escape briefly so I could think.

Outside storm clouds loomed above, threatening to release hell down on the city at any moment. I hurried to Queen and took off before I was the unlucky duckling to have to experience it and, to my surprise, the street that had once looked like a warzone the night before was now pristine. Even the dark stain I had been haunted by on the way home was nothing more than normal black asphalt now. As much as people complained about where our tax dollars were going I had to give it to the city restoration committee for always being on point. They made it look like nothing had ever happened and, for a brief moment, I believed that.

Before I could enjoy the momentary peace of mind I was given I was already at work. My hands gripped my key card tight as I hurried to the door, trying to brace myself for whatever might be waiting for me inside. Instead, the door opened as I went to swipe and Barry stared at me, eyes wide with surprise as he saw my face.

“Miss Knight? What in the world are you doing here?” 

“I wish I knew. The professor called me in,” I explained shortly before scooting past him to sail down the stairs. I stopped abruptly at the last step, hearing the harsh tone of Renato’s ring through the air. I had never heard him so angry, not even when I once accidentally almost broke Levi's aquarium by playing with one of my ink balls in the lab.

Another voice, a strangely familiar voice this time, now spoke in a deep yet desperate tone.

“Darwin please, we may have had our differences before but this...this could very well save lives!”

“I’m not going to tell you again. This is a dangerous subject and it has no place in the medical field. Leave the premises or I will be calling the police. And don’t you ever, ever use that name again.” he growled. My surprise and curiosity were through the roof at this point. Who could strike so much anger in such a simple man that would lead him to talk like this?

I had to know.

“Knock, knock.” I chimed softly through the sliding doors, as if I hadn't just been eavesdropping just moments earlier. My eyes immediately fell on the stranger causing the ruckus and I couldn’t help but manage a small gasp at who I saw. It was the janitor from last night, the man that had sent chills down my spine with just a simple question. “A-am I interrupting something?” I stammered, trying to keep my composure as his gaunt appearance glared at me before looking back to Renato.

“I was just leaving. I hope you sleep well at night knowing you work for a monster,”

“Well, I’m in college, so your first mistake was thinking I sleep at all,” I responded a little too sarcastically, a small grim chuckle leaving the man’s throat as he knocked shoulders with me on his way out. His demeanor had changed completely from the man I had seen just moments ago, once slumped shoulders now broad, all frailty from him diminished as he turned to face Renato once more with a dark stare.

“It was nice seeing you again after all these years, Professor. Remember, I did try to play nice,” he called before exiting the lab, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. I blinked in surprise, unsure if I had just been tricked into seeing two different people or if that man was just that good at changing his personality. 

I turned to Renato who's brows were furrowed and was staring angrily at nothing in particular before I attempted to break the ice.

“So, who’s your friend?” I asked carefully, watching his eyes flicker up to me and narrow at the assumption.

“Never friends. We were hardly even colleagues,” he muttered as he began pacing, running his hands through his once neatly ponytailed dreads. They now fell over his face and shoulders as he stood hunched over his desk, fuming. “I knew something was off about that man, why didn’t I see it sooner?” he whispered to himself, fully immersed in the conversation in his head.

“Uh, what?”

“How could I have so foolish? Of course, I was being watched...how could I have known he would go to this level though? Stupid..."

"Renato?"

"If he gets his hands on this...dammit!” he hissed before slamming his fist on the desk angrily. I flinched at the action before snapping my fingers at him.

“Hey! Earth to Renato, bring it back down to Earth!” I called, watching him snap from whatever stupor he had previously been in. Looking up close at him now he looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept at all. Under his lab coat, I saw now that he was wearing the same clothes he had worn when I left last night and it finally clicked. “Did you stay here all night?”

“I...well, yes,” he admitted sheepishly before he took to rubbing his chin, looking at nothing in particular like he was deep in thought. We stood in silence for a few moments before I touched his shoulder, confusion rapidly growing in my head that I was desperate to get explained.

“Hey, are you going to explain what’s going on or…?”

He seemed to slip back into the moment and sighed, pulling off his glasses to clean them anxiously. “Right. Sorry. I was hoping to give you a day to rest but...something happened.”

“So you said in the text. What is it?” I asked suspiciously, fear creeping into my voice before I could stop it. He took a large sigh before pressing his palms together and directing them at me with somber eyes.

“You have to promise that you’ll let me explain before you get upset,” he started, looking down at me with a gaze that turned serious within a few seconds. My stomach gave a quick twist of fear at this. It was suddenly very apparent that whatever that substance he had was no longer within sight, which made my thoughts run wild with worry.

“What did you do, Renato?” I asked gravely, watching him hesitate before starting towards the fish tank. My gaze hardened as I noticed it was now covered with a dark sheet, a sheet that he now removed to reveal a lazily wandering Leviathan in the water. I released a sigh of relief, a piece of me fearing the worst for the little crustacean. 

That was before it turned its sights on me at least.

It was like I had been tossed into a sci-fi horror flick. Its skin went from its usual beautiful maroon to a horrific pitch black, it’s size growing into something grotesque before he began to slam against the glass. Renato steadied the tank before tossing the sheet over it once more and it's furious attempts to leave grew silent. I stood in terrified silence trying to process what I just saw, hands quivering at my sides as Renato turned back to me and managed a weak unsure shrug.

“What, pray tell, the everloving fuck was that?” I finally managed to whisper as he started back towards me, hands shoved deep in his lab pockets as he seemed to ponder what to say to me. I took a step back from him, my gut suddenly unsure of how I felt about being around him. His gaze looked hurt at this but he kept his distance as if nervous I would run if he got too close.

“I suppose I deserve that…” he whispered before I scoffed, tossing my arms up in the air with a sarcastic laugh.

“You suppose? That guy was right, you're a damn monster!"

“Nina please, your language-”

“Do not start with me over that,” I snapped, folding my arms, ready to hear what excuse he had ready for what I had just seen. "Explain. What the fuck happened when I left?”

He sighed and nodded softly, giving up on arguing.

“Right. So, you left, and I had been engrossed in researching this creature. It’s quite a find, Nina, it’s DNA is incredible. So incredible in fact that I found it had regenerating cells and I…” he trailed, taking his glasses to fiddle with them as he spoke. “I saw a window for experimentation and I took it.”

“On Levi? But why? You know what that thing can do!” I protested, his features dark with thought.

“I know, trust me, I know. I thought...maybe a smaller dose wouldn’t have the effects of its original host, that maybe it could reverse his health,” he admitted, a look of weariness taking over him. “It did do that but it also turned him into what you just witnessed.”

“And how does your friend tie into this?” I asked grimly, nodding towards the door. He scowled at my use of friend but sighed wearily.

“As I said, he’s an old colleague...from a different time. Back...when I worked for the government,” he explained quietly. 

I blinked in shock. 

“You did what for the who now?”

“I was a scientist for a special research program briefly after college with the close colleague of mine I've mentioned, along with the man you saw earlier. He went by Oliver Phobus, though I’m not sure if he still goes by that name…” he trailed as if thinking hard into the past.

I couldn't believe he wasn't sharing this information with me. I could barely get him to reveal what his favorite juice was on store runs half the time much less a look into his past like this. I decided to press my luck and prod further.

"Why is that?"

“Oliver was, well, is a desperate man. His forte used to be finding cures to uncommon diseases, often taking devious measures to get to his answers if it meant a breakthrough.”

“Such as?” I pressed, curiosity growing by the second. He pursed his lips before continuing, a look of discomfort falling over him as if not wanting to answer.

“He did many experiments on...people...terrible things,” he whispered, my mouth growing dry at his words. His eyes grew dark at the mention of it, like he was reliving the experience as he spoke. “As soon as we found out we made sure he was removed from the program, but soon after he and his family left without a trace on where to find him. And then today…” he sighed, fist resting on his chin as he recounted what happened. “Today I was trying to take a sample from Levi and he came in and saw. He saw what Leviathan had become and I know he’s going to come back for him.”

“You think he’s going to come back? You told him you were going to call the cops!” I reasoned, a grim chuckle erupting from him as he stood once more and started organizing things from his desk. 

“You underestimate the level of desperation he’s at,” he answered shortly before hunching over his laptop, body stiff as he began to clack away at the keyboard. I shifted nervously, still trying to process all the new information given to me. Renato called him a desperate man but didn’t he just commit his own messed up experiment in the name of science? But also to hear he experimented on people, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. That strange smile he presented to me the night before now seemed all the more devious and caused a shiver to run down my spine at the thought of it. Renato at least seemed ashamed of what he did.

Phobus just seemed like a mad man on a mission.

“So...what will you do now?” I asked softly, my gaze traveling back to the tank that stood silent now despite the uproar that had just happened. Just remembering the glimpse of black tendrils slithering out and the sheer anger it seemed to have when it saw me...it made me not even want to be in the room.

Renato sighed as he turned back to me and folded his arms.

“This is where it gets tricky,” he began, frown settled deeply on his lips at what he was about to say. “My work, Levi specifically, can’t stay here any longer. I’ll be alerting the proper authorities of what’s transpired but I need to get him somewhere safe before I do so. Can't exactly have them seeing what he's become without it turning into a worse situation than it already is,"

“Fair enough,”

“What I need from you is just to stay here and keep guard while I travel home to get the proper equipment to take him to my colleague's residency. There we can do some proper testing, maybe see if we can reverse this-”

“You want me to do what?” I asked incredulously. Above us, a warning of thunder rolled past, a feeling of unease taking hold of my gut at his request. Here he was, dropping a complete bombshell on me and expected me to just roll with it like it was no big deal? I shook my head and held my hands up in disagreement. “Professor…”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t desperate, Nina. You're one of the only people I trust with this,” he admitted, placing a hand on my shoulder with a look of sheer exhaustion. “I know you’re unhappy with me right now. I know I made a bad decision, but I can’t let him have this. He’s a dangerous man and I don’t know what he’ll do with the information or what could happen if-,”

“If he gets ahold of this, right,” I sighed, not wanting him to finish the terrifying thought that Levi could very well transform into some terrible if given the chance. Or even something worse happening if someone was able to manipulate that DNA. Inside every fiber of my being protested this request, but deep down I also knew all too well that sometimes you had to make the hard decisions that you really didn’t want to. I just wished it wasn’t me in this scenario, especially after the first time had already gone so wrong.

Renato was desperate by his standards though, and he had stuck his neck out for me so many times in the past year that I lost count. It was only fair I repay him for it.  

I just hoped it wouldn't bite me in the ass later.

“Alright, I will watch Levi until you can make it back. I have a class soon but I can skip if you need me to-”

“Not necessary. I’m already in enough hot water, I don’t need your parents blaming me for you missing class,” he joked softly before his demeanor changed. “You did talk to them last night, didn't you?”

“Define talk and last night,” I smiled sheepishly before laughing nervously at his sour appearance. “Relax, we spoke briefly this morning. They know nothing so I’d like to keep it that way,” I admitted before glancing at the clock and frowning. “Shoot. I’ve gotta head out but I’ll be back at around 6, is that too late?”

“6 is perfect. I’ll have everything ready for when you return so we can make this quick,” he added before pausing and looking at me with a soft frown. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You can say no, especially after everything that’s happened last night.”

“I’ve already made my decision, haven’t I? What’s the worst that can happen anyway? It’s just some science nerd that probably won’t even show up tonight, right?” I joked, trying to hide my own fear by making light of the situation. Renato gave me a weary smile before heading to his desk to get to work, brows creased with uncertainty at my words.

“I suppose you’re right, I'm probably just being careful about this. Just...be ready, we’ll discuss more when you return,” he concluded, setting us on our separate ways until the big night ahead.

Despite him trying to be reassuring about it a part of me knew that it wasn't going to be that easy.

Things were never that easy.

[butmomilovepeter]

Tell Me Your Troubles and Doubts, Giving Me Everything Inside and Out

read on ao3?

lads,,,i did something, im not sure if it’s it, cheif. is it cash money? idk.

(imma dedicate this bad boy to @jackklinelovesstarwars lmao this discord server is wickety wickety whack i luv it)

~

Sam wakes up, and he hates it.

He hates how used to this feeling he is; the feeling of waking up on ground, hurt and disoriented.

His back aches, and it’s a harsh reminder that “middle age” is closely creeping up to him. His head throbs from the blow that the ghost him and Jack (god, he’s a baby) were hunting gave him. He hurts. He can feel the broken ribs, broken nose, concussion, and the broken glass sticking to his body. And the exhaustion from insomnia seems to catch up to him as he lays on the floor, his body not willing to catch up with his mind.

God, he’s exhausted.

And suddenly, a voice is speaking to him.

“-am! Sam! Are you alright?” Jack sounds so worried and young, and Sam half wishes he wasn’t even here.

“I’m good.” He groans and swallows the nausea.

“No, no, no. Dean said—”

“It’s fine, Jack. Let’s just—gah!” His attempts to stand were trampled by the way the pain flared in his sides and behind his eyes. He feels Jack steady him, and puts a hand behind Jack’s back for balance

“We should get out of here.” Jack whispers, as the ghost looks back at the two of them angrily. (And Sam can barely remember why this ghost is vengeful anyway.)

“We can’t leave just yet. Lemme call—”

But Sam can’t even finish before he notices the blood seeping from Jack’s back covering his hand.

Sam’s breath hitches and their eyes meet.

“Jack, that’s not…”

“Oh, I-I-” and Jack starts falling.

“Jack? Jack!” Sam scrambles to catch the boy despite his body’s protests. He brings them both to the ground, with Jack’s head in his lap.

“The ghost—I didn’t realize it—” Jack chokes out, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Shh, it’s okay—it’s okay.” Sam reassures through gritted teeth. The ghost snarls at them before disappearing, and part of Sam is grateful. His head hurts and he knows he’s seconds from blacking out, but now he’s got a bleeding kid in his lap so that’s out of the question.

“S-Sam?” Jack’s voice is soft.

“You’re alright, you’re alright. I’m getting you out of here.” Sam scoops up the boy into his arms (and oh my Chuck it hurts.)

“What about the-the ghost?” Sam hates how Jack’s voice wavers. Sam tucks Jack as close as possible.

“Don’t worry about the ghost. I can call someone or…”

He trails off because it’s getting harder to stay focused, but Jack doesn’t seem to notice.

As Sam sets the kid down on his side in back seat, he gets a good look at the wound.

It’s not too deep, and Sam knows he’ll probably survive, but he still is bleeding a good amount.

And it brings up memories he half forgot.

Hey, look at me. It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam!

“It hurts…” Jack sniffles. Sam rubs Jack’s shoulder before pressing a spare flannel up against the wound. Jack winces, and Sam pretends not to notice the tears.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Sympathy drips from Sam’s voice. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“You sure?” Jack sounds like he’s also on the verge of passing out.

“It’s not even that bad, kid. It’s not.” He cringes slightly. It’s been eight years. “Hang in there.”

Sam has never been the best driver, but god knows he should have been arrested for that drive back to the bunker.

~

“Dean! Cas!” Sam’s own body is screaming at him as he makes his way swiftly down the stairs, Jack’s body suddenly raging with fever.

Dean comes sprinting in, eyes widening when he sees the damage.

“God, Sammy, what happened?” Dean asked as he guides Sam to a bed for the kid.

Sam laid Jack on his stomach, tilting his head up to take care of the fever in a minute.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked, blinking away the black dots. Dean looked up skeptically at his brother.

“He was away with Rowena, remember? We talked about it before you left?” Dean prompted. Sam inhaled and tried to think, but the dots grew larger and his feet stumbled.

“No-no...I-”

“Sammy? Sam, you okay?” His brother’s voice was muffled. Sam shook his head, grabbing the wall behind him. “Sammy! Sammy?”

Sam felt his brother grab his shoulders, but his brain fuzzed out.

~

Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay? You’ll be good as new. Huh? I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna take you care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam! Sam! Sammy!

~

Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job.

And what do you think my job is?

What?

You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this. Guess I gotta save your ass for a change.

~

I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry.

~

This is real. Not a year ago, not in Hell, now. I was with you when you cut it, I sewed it up! Look!

This is different. Right? Then the crap that’s tearing at your walnut? I’m different. Right?

Hey. I am your flesh-and-blood brother, okay? I’m the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real time. You got away. We got you out, Sammy.

~

What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another -- another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just-

Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.

~

He wakes up again, and it hurts more than before.

It’s not real awareness, more of a feeling than anything.

In the time he was out, he managed to dig up memories he had wished to forget.

And then he remembers Jack.

“Jack-!” He sits up and immediately regrets it.

“Easy! Easy!” Dean’s hands easily guide him back down on the bed.

“Where’s Jack?” Sam gasps. A better question was; where was he? A second look around, and he was in his own bed. There was a bandage wrapped around where his ribs were, an ice pack on his head and bandages covering his arms and neck where the glass had entered.

“He’s with Cas now. His fever just broke before you woke up.” Dean looked a bit hesitant.

“What is it?” Sam asks, trying not to think of the worst.

“You got him here just in time, Sammy. It was close.” Dean told him. Sam exhaled with relief.

“And Cas fixed him up?”

“Good as new. He’s on his way to help you too.”

“Why?” Sam swallowed a groan. Dean chuckled.

“Sam, you’ve been out for seven hours.” Dean removed the ice pack and replaced it with another. Sam pretended to not enjoy it. “You didn’t wake up once when I got all the glass out.”

Sam tried for a chuckle himself, but it hurt like hell. (Not actual Hell. He’s been there.)

“I’m getting old.” Sam responded eventually.

“You and me both, brother.” Dean smiled in his very Dean Winchester way. Then it dropped slightly. “You were dreaming, though. ‘Kept on muttering things I couldn’t understand. You’re not having nightmares again, are you?”

Sam avoided his brother’s eyes.

“There was never a time I wasn’t, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t answer, instead places a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy. We’ll patch you up.”

~

“Sam?” Jack whispers in the doorway.

“Hey, Jack. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Sam says, trying his best to sit up. Jack was dressed in his pajamas (Star Wars themed, they were a Christmas present.) He looks behind him in both directions before shaking his head.

“Castiel said that I was fine but should be resting.”

He pulled out a laptop. “But I’m bored. Can we watch a movie?”

Sam smiles and moves over as best he can.

“‘Course. Our little secret.”

Jack smiles and gently sat down next to Sam, and pulled up the Netflix logo.

“It keeps recommending me The Breakfast Club. Can we watch it?” Jack sounds young again, but the good kind of young.

“A classic. I’m making you watch every John Hughes movie.” And despite his aching ribs, he pulled Jack close next to him. He tried to ignore the affection that filled his throat when the kid put his head on his shoulder.

“You scared me today.” Jack whispered, about a half hour into the movie. “You went down so hard and I didn’t even realize I was—”

“Hey, I’m okay, Jack,” Sam reassured. “And so are you.”

Jack smiled a small smile, and turned his eyes back towards the screen.

(Dean and Cas find them late at night, fast asleep while Some Kind of Wonderful plays in the background. The pictures will in fact be used for blackmail someday soon.)

[illuminating-dragons]

Our Hearts’ Desires

Summary:  Dean Winchester will never fall in love. Castiel will never feel desire. Profound bonds, after all, tie people together in many different ways, and no one needs to be lonely. Written for the Asexual Supernatural Mini Bang 2016-17.

Word Count: 5,136 

Link to art by Cenedrariva 

Read it on AO3

           Dean was seventeen the first time he realized he didn't want to be in love.

           They were hanging out at Bobby's for a few weeks that summer. Dean had broken his leg on a hunt and their dad had left them with the old hunter, muttering to himself about demons. Sammy was finally hitting a growth spurt and his legs and arms were almost as sore as Dean's. Bobby was endlessly patient with the two of them, finding old books for Sam to translate that had nothing to do with monsters, and he taught Dean how to win in poker.

           One day, however, Bobby lost patience with them both after they wouldn't quit bickering. After giving them thirty bucks, he told them to get out and give him an hour's peace. Dean's leg still wasn't ready for driving or biking, but the nearest diner wasn't far, and he'd walked further before with worse injuries.

           They were halfway down the driveway when Sam realized he'd forgotten his book. Seeing the nervousness in his little brother's eyes—Sam didn't like it when adults yelled—Dean turned around and went back for it. When he got in the house, though, he heard sobbing.

           Carefully, Dean crept closer to the kitchen. Bobby was sitting at the table, tears dripping down his face, a woman's picture in his hand.

           Dean meant to back out, grab Sam's coat, and give Bobby two hours, three hours—hell, whatever he needed, but he tripped trying to turn around. Bobby heard him. Dean flinched, expecting anger, but instead Bobby just looked guilty.

           "Sorry Dean," he said. "I didn't even think—you can't walk all that way on your leg."

           I can, Dean wanted to say. I'll leave you alone.

           What came out instead was, "Do you want us to stay?"

           They called Sam back in and Bobby took out the supplies for making peach cobbler, and as they made it together, he told them about Karen. Sam was teary-eyed from the story, and Dean might have squeezed out a tear or two, but really he felt more horrified than sad. Bobby was the kindest man he'd ever met, always helping anyone who needed it, whether they asked or not.

           But the memory of being in love, of losing that love, had made him forget Dean's leg.

           And Bobby knew what killed his wife; he'd killed it, too. He wasn't like Dad, still chasing a supernatural arsonist. He'd been able to make peace, but he still made peach cobbler and cried every summer.

           Dean decided right then and there that he was going to be perfectly fine without love.

           It wasn't worth it.

           At first he thought it was just that fear of pain.

           That was as good excuse as any. They lived dangerous lives, and hell, when Sammy left, Dean was pretty sure he didn't want to love anyone ever again, in any way. On his own for the first time, making careful, quiet checkups to Stanford campus whenever he could risk it, Dean soothed his loneliness with alcohol and one night stands.

           Then something changed.

           Sam called out of the blue, and they talked. Only for a few minutes, but Sam was bubbling over about a girl, Jess. How pretty she was, and how he loved picking out flowers for her and going on picnics. Dean said all the right things (at least, he hoped), but inside he was thinking, "glad I don't have to do that."

           What was the point of bringing flowers? Or picnics?

           Things got worse.

           Dean started realizing he wanted family, sure, but love? It wasn’t that it hurt too much. Burning Dad’s body, feeling Sammy shaking beside him, hurt. Sammy lying dead hurt like a bitch.

           Hell hurt.

           No, it wasn’t fear of pain or getting hurt that made him put love aside. There was something else. He didn’t want it at all.

           Dean struggled against that idea. He was fucking human, wasn’t he? And sex was awesome, and being close to people was great, even if so often it ended badly. But romance…

           He couldn’t do it.

           He tried with Lisa, tried to remember flowers and compliments…he even tried love notes. And he did care for her a lot, and Ben, and they were trying so hard to be a family…but he couldn’t do romance.

           He just wasn’t interested.

           Later Dean thought—well, he thought maybe it was because he was gay.

           Or bi, maybe. Whatever it was, he was definitely attracted to men.

           Especially Cas. But the angel was…well, an angel. He was special, and he definitely couldn’t be Dean’s first try. If he was wrong, if he fucked up the first time, it wasn’t going to be with Cas.

           Not like Cas would want him anyways.

           So Dean bought lube for the first time and headed off to a gay bar without telling Sam or Cas. Lisa was long gone, and he pretended not to notice the other guy’s wedding ring.

           And the sex was incredible—scarier than usual, a heart stopping moment when Dean asked if he could top and the other guy hesitated, panicking when the guy held onto him more strongly than any woman—powerful, and Dean knew for sure this was what he wanted. But there was still no urge to stay, to hold on, to say poetry.

           Well, it was just a one night stand.

           Dean couldn’t bear to tell Cas, and then Cas was gone, disappeared into the lake. He kept his trench coat, because Cas would want it back someday, when the Leviathans were gone—because things would be back to normal. Cas couldn’t stay gone.

           And he did come back, just as Dean was losing Sam. And Cas gave him back his brother, but the price of saving Sam meant Cas was gone again.

           Purgatory came next, a crystal-sharp place of fear and fighting. But there were quiet nights too, nights when either Benny or Cas kept watch while the other curled up against Dean. Dean would have objected, but he was too cold and they had no blankets. And Benny’s arms were strong and sure, and Cas’ hold was so familiar, and he was able to sleep.

           One night Cas walked further away, and Benny asked him a question.

           “Dean, you ever been in Love?”

           Dean could hear the capital L, could tell that Benny meant something special. He was too tired to lie.

           “No,” he said honestly. “I never have.”

           To his surprise, the vampire nodded. “Thought not.”

           “Why?”

           “Because you love that angel.”

           Dean looked up at him, utterly betrayed, but Benny tilted his head. Cas was standing far away, and Benny was talking right in Dean’s ear as he held him.

           “I’ve seen people like you before. My mother was like that—she loved my daddy, but she wasn’t in Love. He didn’t really mind.”

           “What’s wrong with me?”

           If anyone had told Dean’s past-self that he would ask that question, ever, he would have socked them.

           “There ain’t anything wrong with you, brother,” Benny said firmly. “You just don’t Love.”

           “People are supposed to do that.”

           “Maybe not everybody.”

           And for one short, breathless, painless moment, Dean let himself imagine that.

           Then Benny was gone. Dean had no one to convince him he was wrong.

           Cas deserved Love. He couldn’t give it.

           So he could never tell Cas that he loved him with everything he had.

           Cas had always believed that Dean was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

           The first time he saw him wasn’t in Hell, the way most people assumed. Dean certainly assumed that. No, it was the week before he’d died, when Sam lay in an exhausted sleep and Dean prayed for the first time.

           “If anyone’s listening…I know I don’t deserve it. But I…I’m scared. I don’t want to go to Hell. And most of all I don’t want Sammy to break like I did. Can you save him, at least?”

           There were angels who laughed at that prayer. Michael was one of them; the Sword had no idea that he would one day kill the brother he prayed for now. But Castiel (for he was only Castiel then) hadn’t laughed. Instead, he pitied the man, whose fear came from love. All his actions came from love, when you looked closely. And late that night, when no one in his garrison was watching, Castiel studied the soul of the Righteous Man as he lay dreaming. He had told himself it was so he would recognize him perfectly in Hell, so that not a moment would be lost.

           And four months later, wings singed and ears ringing with the cries of the damned, he had known Dean right away. Dean’s soul had been flayed, and hellfire curled deep within, but still it shined, fierce and bright.

           Castiel had picked him up, marvelling at his radiance, and flew back to Earth, shielding the bright soul from Hell, from the eyes of the other angels…even from himself.

           Years later, he wondered if he’d known, even back then. Known that he would lose everything for this man, and do it gladly.

           Whenever Dean stood before him, Cas felt awe, admiration, and respect—just as he felt for Anna, for Balthazar (and the same piercing regret). He felt a deep sense of belonging, too—just as he did with Sam and Claire, Jody and Alex (the same wistful feeling for a home he’d never really had).

           And then there was something else.

           He hadn’t been lying when he said he and Dean shared a more profound bond. He knew Sam and the rest of their little band spoke about it behind their backs, and he knew part of it was true. The love he felt for Dean was different; living without him wasn’t an option. He wanted to see the hunter smiling, see his insecurities fall away, see him understand once and for all how bright— how beautiful he was.

           Humans called that being in love. And maybe it was.

           So when Cas became human, he expected the way he looked at Dean to change.

           When he woke from the death dealt by the reaper and stared at Dean’s face, saw his body without the light of his soul, Cas’ feelings certainly had changed. The intensity of it took his breath away, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Dean would hear. Dean was beautiful.

           And Cas waited for desire to hit.

           Balthazar had tried to explain, once, what desire felt like (his brother had always been close to humanity). If he’d ever thought about it (lies: he’d thought about it from the moment he’d started to fall the first time), Cas would have assumed that desire for Dean would come with humanity.

           But it never did.

           Oh, Dean was still beautiful, even when he became demonic; beautiful and terrifying. But Cas still felt no urge to tear his clothes off, to touch him wherever he wanted…although it wasn’t an unpleasant idea, that kind of intimacy. It was Dean, and he loved him. He would give that if he wanted it, even though he wasn’t enthusiastic about the process.

           But Dean didn’t seem to want it. Didn’t seem to want him at all.

            Sam, of course, was trying to help. Cas couldn’t find the heart to stop him, couldn’t find the words to explain the delicate balance he and Dean were stranded on. All Sam could see were his brother and his friend, who needed to get over their own nonsense. And Sam would fix them, because it was becoming pretty clear he couldn’t be happy, himself. The least he could do was make sure Dean and Cas were going to be.

           Cas appreciated his efforts at first, but he could see the pain Dean tried to hide as they were left alone together again and again. Cas had his Grace now, and could see Dean’s soul dim with unhappiness. He was struggling against the bond they shared, and Cas felt his misery as his own.

           So he went to talk to Sam.

           At first Sam didn’t understand. He explained that of course he didn’t care if Dean liked men, and he knew that Cas and Dean had something special, and he wanted to make absolutely clear that he approved of the relationship.

           “I don’t think you understand how I feel for your brother,” Cas replied. “I love him, of course I do, and it is different from what I feel for you.”

           “Thank goodness,” Sam joked. “No offence.”

           “None taken,” Cas replied with a hesitant smile. Because Sam was important too, and he had to understand that. The man had suffered so deeply and Cas ached to soothe that pain properly, but it wasn’t his wound to heal. Someone else would help Sam, someday, and Cas had a suspicion it was a woman who listened better than most who could hear.

           But right now it was time to help Dean.

           “I love your brother, but I do not desire him.”

           Sam raised his eyebrows. “Is it because you’re an angel?”

           “I thought so at first,” Cas answered. “But then…I was human, and though my feelings became more intense, there was still no desire. I felt none for the reaper woman either; I did that because she wanted it, and I craved some kind of intimacy. But not…not that kind.”

           Sam’s brow furrowed. “Are you asexual?”

           “I am not a worm, Sam.”

           Sam didn’t smile. He pulled his laptop towards him and typed in the word, one Cas had never heard applied to human beings.

           He read over Sam’s shoulder as he scrolled through the website, and a deep sense of relief came over him. He could explain himself now. It wasn’t because he was an angel. This was something Dean could understand.

           There was nothing broken about his love.

           “A buddy of mine was ace in college,” Sam said quietly. “I’m sorry, I never thought…he never looked at anyone, boy or girl. I thought that’s what it meant.”

           Cas was about to reply, but he saw a word. Reaching over Sam, he clicked on another link. And drew in an unnecessary breath.

           “Sam…”

           Sam looked and his face went gray. “Oh God…Dean.”

           It was a story about a girl who felt desire, but felt no love. She was sharing her story here to let people know that it wasn’t just desire that people didn’t experience sometimes. “I want to have sex, but I’d rather chew tinfoil than go on a date. Am I going to be alone forever?”

           Cas closed his eyes, a thousand things making sense for the first time.

           “What have I done?” Sam whispered. “I must have made him feel…”

           “You didn’t know, Sam,” Cas explained gently. He put a hand on the hunter’s right shoulder. “Brother, you didn’t know.”

           “How could he forgive me?”

           “Tell him you love him anyways. You do, don’t you?”

           “Of course!”

           “Then just be his brother, and let him have some time to adjust.” Cas stepped away.

           “Where are you going?”

           “To speak to Dean. I would appreciate it if you gave us some time, Sam. Perhaps you could go for a drive?”

           “I’ll get groceries,” Sam agreed, standing up. “And Cas…I love you too, no matter what.”

           Cas swallowed, shocked by the depth of his relief. “Thank you, Sam.” He stayed still as Sam put an arm briefly around his shoulders, then walked hurriedly towards the garage. Once he heard the Impala leave the Bunker, he set off in search of Dean.

           Dean, it turned out, was in the kitchen, cleaning up. Cas smiled; Dean had made burgers. They were still his favourite molecules.

           “Hey, Cas.” Dean looked up from the counter. “You need something?”

           Cas wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. It wasn’t really how he wanted to begin. As he hesitated, Dean’s face fell.

           “What’s wrong,?” he asked urgently. “Did you have a fight with Sam?”

           “No,” Cas said quickly. “Sam and I had a discussion, and I asked him to go get groceries.”

           Dean dropped the cloth he was holding. “And…uh…what were you talking about?” The stricken— terrified look in his eyes broke Cas’ heart.

           “Dean,” he said as gently as he could, “it’s nothing bad.”

           Dean swallowed hard, picked up the cloth again. “Just get it over with, Cas.”

           Cas considered starting small, explaining the concepts he and Sam had researched, reassuring Dean at every step that of course, words were just words and they didn’t always convey feeling very well—he hadn’t found a language that did his feelings justice—and he could leave it there, leave the words for Dean to think about and decide what to do.

           But Dean was trembling, and Cas wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid Cas was rejecting him, or if he was afraid Cas loved him too much. Too differently.

           So he walked towards Dean instead, and before Dean could protest, placed his hand on his left shoulder. The physical handprint had faded long ago, but Cas could still feel his mark. The print was upside down, and Cas felt like he was touching his past self, who’d believed happiness came from serving the Word. You never knew, Cas thought. You never knew how miserable you were.

           Shaking himself out of the past, Cas touched Dean’s face with his free hand. “I love you.”

           Dean shook his head, tried to step away, but Cas wouldn’t let him. “You don’t,” he objected. “You can’t. And if you—if you do—I don’t love you that way.”

           “But you do love me,” Cas answered.

           Dean jerked away at that, stronger than Cas could hold. “Damn it, Cas, I—” His voice broke. “I can’t—”

           “Dean, do you love me?”

           Dean bowed his head.

           “Dean?”

           “Yes!” Dean burst out. “Yes, I do, but I—I’m not in Love with you.”

           Cas heard the difference, knew what Dean meant, but .the opportunity for him to explain had passed. As much as it killed him to watch Dean struggle, he had to let him get it out.

           “I—I don’t mean that you’re my friend, or that you’re my brother.” Dean’s head was still bowed. “It’s different than that. But I don’t know how to be in Love. I don’t want to, either. And you deserve better than that. You deserve to have someone who can give you everything.”

           “I don’t want everything,” Cas answered, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “I want you.”

           Dean shook his head. “You don’t know that. You don’t—there’s something wrong with me—”

           “There is nothing wrong with you,” Cas said sternly. He let a bit of his True Voice leak in, saw Dean flinch in surprise. “You are Dean, my Dean, and I love you. I want to be with you.”

           Dean was shaking all over now. Cas drew him close carefully, putting his arms around him tenderly.

           “What do you want from me?” Dean rasped.

           “I told you. I want to be with you.” Cas held him closer. “I want to stay with you and love you. I want you to come to me with everything and trust me to take care of you. And if you want to be physical, I am willing to be.”

           Cautiously, Dean put his hands up on Cas’ shoulders. “But what about…all the other stuff? Dates? Flowers? Being in Love?”

           “I am perhaps in Love with you,” Cas admitted, “but as for the general trappings of romance…they are unnecessary. I just want to spend time with you. Perhaps we could go for a drive and have burgers?”

           Dean choked on a laugh that was almost a sob. “I…I can do that, angel.” He looked hesitantly into Cas’ eyes. “I…I want you. Like, in my bed. Is that okay?”

           “I find you beautiful, dearest,” Cas said. “I do not desire you the way you do me, but I am willing and able to lay with you if you wish it.”

           “I don’t—I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do, if you’re not making me!”

           “I am not unwilling,” Cas corrected him. “It’s just not something I need to do. I don’t feel a need to have sex with you. I feel a need for you.”

           Dean swallowed hard. “I…it’d be nice to have sex with you. When you want to.”

           “We can do that,” Cas answered. He hesitated. “Dean…will you have me?”

           “You’re asking me?” Dean’s eyes were bright with tears. “Cas, I never thought I’d…I’d be enough for you.” He nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ll have you. And you can have me.”

           Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s. “I will be good to you, dearest. I promise.” He paused. “May I kiss you?”

           Dean kissed him in response, clinging to him. It was a simple, chaste kiss, and Cas deepened it carefully, gauging Dean’s reaction. Dean shuddered against him, and Cas broke the kiss, drew away long enough to let Dean breathe, gazing into green eyes.

           “I love you, Dean.”

           “I love you Cas.” Dean buried his face in Cas’ shoulder, and Cas held him close.

           “It’s alright Dean. You’re enough.”

          It took weeks for Dean to believe Cas wasn’t going to leave.

           But the angel was in his bed every night, stayed with them on hunts, moved into the Bunker. He helped Sam with research, made sure Dean ate, and listened patiently to Dean ramble while he cooked.

           Sam stopped making jokes. He’d cornered Dean in the hall one morning, holding him tightly, whispering “I’m so sorry” over and over again. He didn’t say what he was apologizing for; he might not have had the words. But he sent Dean a link to a site that answered a lot of questions, and he lay in the other bed when they had to share a room, talking to them normally.

           Like it was normal for two grown men to lie together in bed fully clothed, holding each other.

           Oh, they fucked once in a while, and it was the best sex Dean had ever had, mostly because it only happened when they both needed more than just cuddling, needed to touch bare skin, when he needed to feel Cas move inside him, to hold on as tight as he could and hear Cas whisper words of praise and devotion.

           But never Love. Not the Love that Bobby had with Karen, or Jody with Donna.

          Dean didn’t want that. He wanted Cas’ love, his tender care, his strong arms, his promises. The wonder in his eyes when he looked at Dean, the steady grip of his hands when Dean was injured.

          And Cas gave it without condition.

           As the years went on people started to ask questions. They asked whether they were together (they went with ‘yes’ for that one), how long they’d been together (Dean said from the barn, Cas argued it was from Hell), and who topped (Sam glared away anyone who asked that question).

           Then people started asking about marriage.

           Dean actually thought about it. It was legal now, for one thing, and he was willing to tie himself to Cas that way. Having Cas as his husband…that would be nice.

           Cas was reluctant when Dean brought it up. Surprised (and a little worried), Dean asked why.

            “I was thinking of something else,” Cas clarified.

           “Like what?”

           It took five solid minutes of Dean pressing for Cas to tell him about bonding, something angels did with their mates, romantic or otherwise. It took five seconds for Dean to say yes.

           “I don’t know if it will work with you,” Cas admitted. “It’s only been done once with a human, and it nearly killed them when they…”

           “When they what?”

           “When they grew tired of the angel,” Cas said, eyes lowered.

           That infuriated Dean so much it took him a long moment to get his anger under control. To see that though Cas gave him so much care, he didn’t truly believe it was reciprocated.

           He got down on one knee (he used to hate that gesture so much) and asked Cas to bond with him.

           Cas said yes, though Dean could tell he was still worried.

           It took preparation and isolation. Sam offered to leave the Bunker, but Cas took Dean far into the woods, far away from people, just in case he got it wrong.

           He didn’t.

           Dean never found words to describe what being bound to Cas felt like. There was light, and shock and awe, glimpsing Cas’ true form and being so beyond worshipping, feeling Cas touch every last inch of him, deep into his soul, something that would have been wrong with anyone else…

           That was his best effort. In reality, it was so much more.

           They woke two days later, and when Dean looked at Cas his partner looked more at peace, more happy than Dean had ever seen him. And he knew why; he could feel Cas’ delight at Dean’s reciprocation of devotion, could sense the new-found ease.

           He also sensed Cas’ joy when they returned home to Sam eating breakfast with a beaming Eileen Leahy on his lap, wearing one of his T-shirts and signing to him. Sam was watching intently, his arm around her waist and a huge, warm smile on his face.

           Dean was positive Cas could feel his glee as he cleared his throat loudly, making his baby brother jump and nearly knock Eileen off his knee, catching her at the last second. And the warmth, a moment later, when Eileen looked at them for a second, flipped them off, and kissed Sam deeply, disregarding his blush.

           Over the next few weeks, Dean got used to feeling Cas’ emotions, to realizing it was even harder to hide his worries from his boyfriend. He also got used to Sam smiling and happy, got used to having Eileen in the Bunker, to learning sign language.

           One day he and Eileen were making dinner for their men as they went for groceries.

           Who is Cas? Eileen signed. To you?

           Dean still didn’t know much sign language, but he knew enough to form the most important words, one hand bearing a new ring (Cas had insisted).

           He is mine. I am his.

           Eileen nodded, like it explained everything, and they went back to bickering about using nutmeg or tarragon.

           Sam’s room slowly became Sam and Eileen’s room, and Dean and Cas did their best to support Sam as he tried to sort through how he felt about that. Most of his concerns—his past, their future, all the loves he’d lost, the love he longed to give—were worthy of some discussion.

           Then Sam went stupid.

           “Won’t we be bothering you two? I know you’re not really into that kind of relationship.”

           That prompted a wrestling match which ended with Cas kneeling on Sam’s arms and Dean tickling the living crap out of him until he promised to stop being an idiot.

           “The idea,” Dean sniffed. “You actually think I’d be upset about you being happy the way you want to be? You’d better make up for that, little brother.”

           And Sam did, eighteen months later, when Dean and Cas stood for him as his best men. He took his bride to the beach in the Bahamas, and Dean and Cas had the Bunker to themselves. They drank too much, watched every bad movie they could stomach on Netflix, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. They didn’t have sex anymore; the bond had taken away Dean’s need for that almost entirely (barring a few showers every now and then). All he needed was Cas.

           Luckily for him, he was all Cas needed too.

Epilogue

           Dean blinked awake, saw how dark it was, and immediately buried his face into the pillow.

           Cas’ amusement flickered through their bond. “It’s time to get up, Dean.”

           “It’s dark. There’s no way in hell.”

           “We’ll be late.”

           “It’s a three hour drive and Maura’s graduation doesn’t start until noon. We have a present.”

           “Sam wanted us to be there earlier.”

           “Sam can—ugh. Please.”

           “Alright, Dean.” Cas drew him back under his wings, and Dean sighed with contentment. He was too old to get up before dawn anymore.

           He’d been saying that since he was fifteen, so it was a bit strange to actually realize that hey, he was pushing sixty, and his youngest niece was graduating university. He really was getting old.

           When Dean had imagined old age as a young man, it had always been something like Bobby. Drunk, running phones and hunts, barking at everyone but always having a place to crash for anyone who needed it. Being alone.

           He had parts of that. He and Cas lived in one of the safe houses in Kansas, and spent two days a week running phones and chat lines together for the re-established Men of Letters. He was probably getting grumpier now, but he had a wall of pictures of the hunters who called him and Cas Dad, sometimes as a joke, sometimes very real. There were even three kids who called them Uncle—Ellie Mary, Dean Patrick, and Maura Celeste.

           Their Aunt Charlie loved the last one.

           As for being alone…well, Dean had almost forgotten the feeling. He felt a surge of affection for Bobby, and hoped that he’d helped the old hunter at least a little on his bad days. He couldn’t imagine Cas not being there over all of those years, the battles, the heartbreaks. Even the joyful days would have been missing something if Cas hadn’t been there with his bright eyes and confused smile.

           Cas patted his shoulder. “Dean.”

           Dean groaned. “Fine.” He pushed himself up and stared at the clock. Which said 2 AM.

           “You son of a—”

           He leapt onto Cas and attempted to pound him properly, but his wings, healed from the moment they were bound together, blocked him.

           Cas laughed and grabbed Dean’s hands. “I’m sorry, Dean, but I woke up and I couldn’t resist.”

           “You’re horrible.”

           Cas dragged him into a kiss, rubbing his back as he enfolded him in his wings. “Go back to sleep, dearest,” he whispered. “I’ll fly us there later.”

           Dean grumbled, but he laid his cheek against Cas’ chest. “You better make me breakfast for that.”  

           “Of course.”

           Dean closed his eyes, sleep already dragging him down. Cas’ hold was comforting and safe, his hands high on Dean’s back. There was no awkwardness between them, no distance.

           Profound bonds were nice. Even if your bondmate liked to wake you up at 2AM for a joke.

The End

[72bread-pasta88]

Drunk Confessions

Word Count: 2,150 "Are you ready yet?” Your friend asked over the phone. You were going out to a party tonight with him and a couple of your friends which was something you hadn’t done for a while because Andrew had been traveling with his team. “Yeah, definitely,” You responded even though you still hadn’t done your eye makeup or hair yet and you were still trying to decide between two outfits. “Y/N I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not ready. I’m on my way to yours right now. Do you think you’ll be done getting ready by then?” Andrew asked. You smiled, “Yeah you know me too well.” The two of you had been friends since freshmen year at Arkansas and ever since you met, the two of you have been inseparable. All of your friends thought you were dating and all of his friends thought you were hooking up with each other, but you two were just best friends. Sure you had your moments of flirtiness like when you would slap his ass before he went on the field or when he’d hype you up any time you posted a picture of yourself, but you always told people that you were just friends. “I’m here,” Andrew said when he showed up in the doorway of your dorm, hanging up the phone. He was dressed nicely with a backwards baseball hat on, but he looked exhausted. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his hands travel down to your waist, “How was the road trip?” You pulled away so you could go back to finishing your makeup, “You seem tired.” He nodded, flopping back onto your bed with a yawn, “Long and unsuccessful. I’ve got some school work to catch up on so I can’t be out too late tonight.” He rubbed his eyes, “Are you coming to the game at home this week?” “Have I ever missed one of your home games since I’ve met you?” You asked, turning around and gesturing to the outfits you had laid out on the bed next to him. You really don’t know how you ever got ready without him since he usually helped you pick your outfits or told you what to do with your hair. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question,” He smiled, sitting up and looking at the clothes you had chosen. “Can I make an option three?” He asked, standing up and walking over to your wardrobe. He shuffled through it for a bit before finding what he was looking for: a long sleeve black romper that showed off your breasts. You smiled at his selection, “Good choice. Now shoes.” You had moved on to doing your hair, deciding to wear it straight. He picked up a pair of strappy black heels and held them up in the mirror behind you to show you. You laughed, “Fine, but you’re carrying me home because my feet are going to be sore.” He nodded, “Fair enough.” He came up behind you and ran his hand through your hair, resting his chin on your shoulder, “I like your hair like this.” You turned around once you were finished, “Someone’s a little touchy today. Did you miss me or something?” Andrew blushed, but didn’t respond. “I missed you too. You’re not allowed to leave for that long again, deal?” You interlaced your pinky with his and made him promise. “Now turn around, I need to get changed,” You told him as you slipped out of sweatpants you were positive were his at some point and into the outfit he had selected for you. “Alright, how do I look?” You asked, posing for him. “I made a good choice,” He commented with a wide smile, his eyes going straight for your breasts. You rolled your eyes and laughed, “You’re such an ass sometimes.” You made sure you had your phone and keys before leaving with him. ___ Andrew was a little less than thrilled with your behavior at the party. You had started doing shots with one of your close friends almost as soon as you got there. It had been nearly four hours since you arrived and Andrew wanted to get going since he had to do some studying. He was only on his second beer while you were drinking him under the table, not that you were having a competition. You were in between a girl and guy you had never met before on a couch, but that didn’t keep you from flirting with both of them. You were currently leaning into the girl while the guy was telling a story you couldn’t quite keep up with when Andrew came over. “Andy!” You smiled when you saw him. You stood up a little too fast and stumbled into him. He caught you, making sure you were stable before letting you stand on your own again. “These damn heels,” You giggled. “Where have you been, Benny?” You asked slowly slurring your words. “I haven’t seen you in a looong while,” You laughed. “I’ve been around,” He said, his voice even and clear, unlike yours. “Listen, I think we should head out. It’s getting late and I’ve got assignments to finish,” When he said this, you began to frown. “But you haven’t even finished your drink and we haven’t danced yet,” You pouted. Your heels made you closer to his height, but your inability to stand still made you shrink back down a few inches every time you tipped into him. “Y/N, I think we should leave soon,” He said, but you were already shaking your head and cutting him off. “No, I made new friends,” You said pointing back to the couch where the girl and guy were still sitting. “And I’m having fun,” You smiled, touching his face and pulling the corners of his mouth into a smile. You could tell he was getting more and more annoyed with you, but you didn’t really care at this point. He moved your hands from his face and reluctantly agreed with your wishes to stay. “Fine, but we’re leaving soon. You have classes in the morning,” He said. “Hey man, I can get her home safe if you’re leaving,” The guy from the couch said which made you smile. He took your hand and pulled you back to the couch, pouring you another drink. “No. I’m taking her home, it’s fine,” Andrew said before retreating back to the corner where he was standing before he came over to you. You stayed and flirted a bit more with the two people on the couch, letting the guy do a body shot off of you. He licked the line of salt from your neck and took the lime from your mouth, something Andrew had seen that caused him to come over to you again with the same half empty drink in his hand. You stood again when you saw him and led him to where people were dancing, not giving him time to tell you that he didn’t like it when other people were flirting with you. You danced with your back pressed into him and stole the cup from his hand, downing the rest of it. His hands lingered on your hips until the song ended. He pulled your hair back and leaned close to your ear so you could hear him, “Come on, let’s get you home.” You nodded, following him out of the party. “Fuck these shoes,” You said, leaning up against a wall and taking them off. You looked up at Andrew and giggled, “This is the v-very last time I’m letting you choose my sh-shoes.” Usually Andrew would be laughing and teasing you for slurring your words, but tonight was different. Despite being drunk, you could still tell that he was annoyed with you. “I really did miss you, Benny,” You said, taking his arm for support and walking with him. He nodded and told you he missed you too, apologizing for the way he was acting and blaming it on his lack of sleep. After a few minutes of walking, he realized your feet were too sore to keep walking. “Hop on,” He told you, stooping down so you could get on his back. You smiled and hopped on, kissing his cheek as a form of thanks before he carried you back to your dorm. ___ He let you down once you reached your residence hall and helped you up to your dorm. He set you down on your bed and started making his way to your door to leave. “Andrew?” You said, looking at him, “Could you stay for a bit?” He nodded, closing your door and sitting next to you on the bed. You rested your head on his shoulder, drifting off. “Do you need help getting changed?” He asked, looking down at you. You picked your head up and nodded as he opened your drawer in search of an oversized shirt he knew you liked to sleep in. He took off your romper and put it in your laundry basket, then reaching behind you to unhook your bra. “Are you trying to get me naked or something?” You teased, poking his chest. He shook his head and chuckled, slipping the shirt on over your head after taking your bra off. You were surprised you didn’t have to tell him your nightly routine. It seemed as though he had learned it through watching you do it so many times. He opened your makeup bag and took out cotton pads and micellar water to remove your make up with. “It feels nice to have someone else do this,” You told him, involuntarily leaning into his hand as he gently wiped your face clean. He then moved to sit behind you so he could brush your hair , freeing it of any tangles. You were growing more and more relaxed as he took care of you. You leaned back against his chest and gazed up at him, “Why are you so good to me?” He shrugged, putting your brush down, “I don’t know. I love you.” You smiled and stroked his cheek, “I love you too, Andy.” Andrew shook his head, “No, that’s not what I mean.” He took a deep breath and sighed,” I really love you.” Hearing him say that made your heart stop, “What do you mean you love me?” You were still pretty drunk so you didn’t know if you were mishearing things. “Like you’re in love with me or like oh she’s my best friend, I love that girl?” You asked, sitting up and turning so you could look at him properly. He looked you in the eyes and placed his hand on top of yours, “I’m in love with you.” You smiled softly and you were about to tell him that you loved him too when you felt your stomach lurch. Your eyes went wide as you felt the vomit rising in your throat. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be si-, Oh!” Andrew said, grabbing the trash can that you kept by your desk and giving it to you. He pulled your hair back and held it out of your face while you threw up. You couldn’t believe it. Someone who you love tells you that they love you and your reaction is to vomit. He let you sit for a few minutes before you put the trash can to the side. “Sorry about that,” You said finally. You were surprised to hear him laugh. “What’s so funny?” You asked him. “I was nervous about telling you that. I thought I considered every possible reaction you could have, but I never,” He paused to keep from laughing too hard, “I never thought that you would throw up.” You kept your head down to stop him from seeing how embarrassed you were. “I can’t believe I did that,” You said as he stood up. You figured he was going to leave and never bring this up to you again, but then you noticed him holding his hand out for you. “What are you doing?” You asked, finally looking at him. “You’re going to brush your teeth. I’m going to dispose of the vomit,” He said, pulling you onto your feet. “And then I’ll tuck my little drunk girl into bed,” He teased, leading you to the bathroom. You smiled, feeling extremely lucky to have someone like Andrew. Someone who could take care of you and look after you when you needed it and someone you could return the favor to. Someone who saw you in your bad moments, such as vomiting in a dorm room at two in the morning, and still think you’re the greatest thing in your life. After you brushed your teeth, Andrew laid with you in your bed and rubbed your back. “For the record,” You told him, “I’m in love with you too.” Another imagine submitted by E Thank u!!!