#i keep staring at my husband like he's a fucking cheeseburger

[panb1mbo]

being on my period makes me stupid horny

[questionableratatouille00]

𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚎

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your husband's lack of sleep finally seems to be getting to him, and it's up to you to save him from his stress.

Note: This is my submission for day two of @ailesswhumptober! (overworked/insomnia/exhaustion).

Warnings: Nightmares, talk of death, mentions of insomnia and anxiety, cursing.

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

You grumbled bitterly as you stalked down the hallways of the Compound, trying to find where the damn lab was. The only light in the hallways was the light blue line that guided you, as directed by F.R.I.D.A.Y. 

It went at your pace, lighting up where you were and only where you were. Your husband of four years was off messing with some machine in the middle of the night, and it was up to you to get him to actually sleep for once. 

Often, Tony Stark could run solely on four cups of coffee and a cheeseburger, and you had even resorted to hiding the coffee pot a few times, just to keep him from getting another cup.

“Anthony Edward Stark.” You called into the large lab, storming past machines and tools as you searched for your husband.

“Y/n Stark.” Tony gulped, knowing that he was caught. 

“Do you know what time it is?” 

“Show time?” You fumed as he quoted a fucking musical.

“It is one-fucking-thirty in the morning.”

“One thirty in the morning.” He said, nodding over-enthusiastically. 

“Why the fuck are you not in bed?” 

“I have..work. I have work to do.” He settled on his answer, and you stared at him blankly, unfooled by his nonsense. “You’re holding the wrench upside-down.” You pointed out. His gaze flicked to his hand, where he was, in fact, holding the wrench upside-down.

“That was intentional.” 

You began to circle his ‘project’ which, to you, looked like a…car? Half of a washing machine? You couldn’t exactly tell. “Right. And what the hell is this, anyway?”

“It’s the start of a..something.” 

You glanced at him, finally taking in his appearance. His eye bags were dark, his hair a mess and his shirt stained with sweat and other liquids that belonged in a lab. 

“Tony. Your eye bags are darker than Bucky’s jokes.”

“They’re Gucci.” He commented.

“And your hair’s a mess. You need sleep, love. You’re exhausted.” You took a step closer to him, cupping his cheek with your hand. “What’s keeping you awake?” 

“I don’t know.” He sighed, his hands resting on your hips. “I just..can’t. It’s either nightmares or anxiety. I try, but it just doesn’t..stick. So I come down here.”

“Tony.” You breathed out, frowning. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, I'm a grown man and I can't sleep because of a couple of bad dreams'?"

“Tony—being grown or a man has nothing to do with that, and you know it. If they get bad, you can tell me. If the insomnia gets bad, you can tell me. I want to help you, because I love you.”

He says nothing, letting his arm drop to his side. He stares down at his hand, still fiddling with the wrench. “What am I gonna do if I can’t protect you?” He whispered, never looking up at you.

“Is that what’s going on? Babe, I’m safe. You’re safe. We’re all perfectly safe, living in literally the safest place in America. You can rest. Nothing dramatic or drastic is going to happen for the next few hours.” You assured him, rubbing his bicep a few times to comfort him. “I swear.”

“That’s what we thought last time. Then they sent a missile to New York.”

“There will be no missiles. None. You..you don’t even have to sleep all night. It’s already almost 2:00 AM. If you really can’t sleep, you can come right back down. But you need to at least try. Please.”

He took a deep breath, before nodding. “Fine.”

——————————

Tony let himself crawl into your arms, laying his head on your chest as you wrapped your arm around him.

The faint glow of the arc reactor through his shirt was the only light in your spacious bedroom, decorated with picture frames on the walls and bookshelves filled with books and other trinkets.

“Good night, Tony.” You murmured into his hair, and he made a small noise in response.

He let his eyes close, and he didn’t fight the warm embrace of sleep.

In his sleep, the same familiar nightmare played out. The streets of New York were filled with screaming people. Tony always stood in the middle of the street. He'd look up to find a portal in the sky. More and more of the Chitauri forces flew out of it, crashing into buildings.

Up on the balcony of Stark Tower was you and Loki. You cried out and pleaded for help, for rescue. Loki had his scepter's sharp edge pressed to the back of your head.

In front of Tony was all of the Avengers. His friends, his family. They all laid in a large pile, broken and battered and undeniably dead. Steve's shield lay next to his mangled corpse, broken in two. Natasha was next to him, her body bent at an odd angle. Bruce, or rather, the Hulk, was at the bottom of the pile, a large sword thing planted in his chest, pinning him to the ground below like a dart to a dartboard.

Tony had no armor. No armor, no friends, and no way to solve this. He knew that this was his fault. He had his chance to protect everything and everyone he loved--to put a suit of armor around the world. And he didn't take it.

And now the whole world was paying for his mistake. You, his whole world, were paying for his mistake.

——————————

"Tony. Tony!" You called his name, and he woke up from his nightmare.

"Jesus fuck." He gasped. He clutched at his arc reactor, tapping it a few times.

"Hey. Just a dream. Just a dream." You soothed. "Just a dream, sweetheart. Promise."

He nodded, exhaling loudly. "Fuck this."

"Yeah." You nodded, tipping your head slightly. "I know. C'mere. It's four in the morning. You should try and fall back asleep." You scooted closer to him, and you could see him get ready to protest. "None of that. You need rest."

"Fine. Fine." He caved, taking you in his arms. You didn't protest. In your mind, if he felt better holding you like this, than that's what you'd let him do.

"Goodnight, Tony."

You were answered with soft, gentle snoring.

[littlegnoblin]

Happy Valentine’s Day to my best friend and other half @donestiel

read on ao3

Dean comes home from work to find Cas and Jack sitting at the table, red heart-shaped lollipops strewn in front of them. 

He gives Cas a quick kiss. “You trying to give the kid a sugar rush or what?” 

“Daddy! It’s for Valemtime’s Day!” Jack yells excitedly, hopping off his chair to hug Dean’s legs.  

“It’s pronounced valentine, Jack.”

“I don’t know, valemtime kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean says. Jack beams up at him and he can’t help but ruffle his hair. 

“Yes, well, the holiday has become so bastardized that I suppose renaming it wouldn’t hurt.” Cas squints at the box the candy came in. “Does no one find it odd that their children are passing around cards demanding others belong to them?”

Dean sits down and pulls Jack into his lap, flipping through the little pink cards. “I don’t know that you’re supposed to think about it that hard, dude.” He comes across a card that reads ‘kiss me’ and holds it up. “This, on the other hand-- they’re five, what the hell do they need to be kissin’ for?”

“I want kisses!” Jack protests. 

“You’re a little kiss monster.” Cas leans in and presses a big, exaggerated smooch to Jack’s cheek. “How was that? Did it satisfy the beast?”

Jack giggles and nods enthusiastically. 

“Hey, I’m gonna need to sample one of those kisses myself. Make sure they’re regulation-- standard procedure.”

“Is that right?”

“‘Fraid so,” Dean says with a shit eating grin. 

He’s expecting a goofy kiss like the one he gave Jack but Cas uses his thumb to tilt Dean’s chin just so and kisses him deeply. 

They break apart when two tiny hands push at their faces and Jack tells them to knock it off. 

“This is what Valentine’s Day is all about, champ. Besides, I thought you liked kisses.”

“You guys do it gross.” 

Dean smiles and bounces his eyebrows at Cas, who rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small curl of his mouth. 

“Perhaps your father will help you write your classmates’ names on the cards while I get dinner ready.”

“I can cook,” Dean says quickly. The thought of Cas’ last attempt at cooking has his stomach churning and he’s pretty sure feeding that toxic waste to Jack would be considered child abuse. 

Cas holds up a cardboard box. “It’s frozen pizza.”

“Alright, I’ll do babysitting duty. Just make sure you take the plastic off this time.”

“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own child and that was one time.”

“One time too many,” Dean mutters.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, dear.”

Cas glares at him. “I expect you to eat a healthy portion of salad along with your pizza tonight.”

“You making it yourself or is it bagged?”

The glare intensifies. 

Jack tugs on his sleeve. “Daddy, did you like doing valentine’s stuff in school?”

“Nah, it, uh-- it wasn’t really a thing when I was your age.” 

That’s a blatant lie but Dean’s not going to tell him the truth and bum him out. What five year old wants to hear that their dad didn’t do Valentine’s Day exchanges because there was barely enough money for food, let alone candy, and he never really stuck around any school long enough to get included in the holiday stuff. Shit’s depressing. 

“So you never got no cards or nothin’?”

“Nope.” Dean never got cards but he did get invited under the bleachers a few times in high school to unwrap a different kind of present. He’s not telling him that either, though. 

“That sucks. Can I have a lollipop?”

“Nice try, kid.” Dean taps on the card in front of them. “Get to writing.” 

He oversees the careful labelling of the cards, reminding Jack to double check the list of names anytime he spells something wrong and corrects a few backwards letters. They debate who gets what card and Jack complains that he has to give one to Tom who keeps cutting him in line. 

Cas rejoins them in the middle of Jack’s impassioned rant, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

“While I agree that Tom is a-- what was it you called him?”

“A butthead.”

“Yes, right, a butthead. While I agree he is a butthead, unfortunately I think you need to be the bigger person. Maybe this will even convince him to stop cutting in line and you two can be friends.”

“No way. I don’t wanna be friends with Tom.”

“You never know,” Dean says. “I didn’t like your dad when we first met, but I think he’s a pretty okay guy now.”

Jack looks at him wide eyed. “You didn’t like Daddy?”

“No way, he was a butthead.”

“It was more of a misunderstanding,” Cas explains. 

“Oh is that what we’re calling it?”

Cas lifts an eyebrow and stares him down. “What would you call it, Dean?” 

Shit, that should not be so hot. 

“Not the point; the point is that I didn’t think I would ever like your dad and now we’re married. Things change.”

Jack furrows his brows, considering. “I don’t want to marry Tom.”

Dean snorts. “You don’t have to. In fact, please don’t. His mom is a nightmare.” Cas kicks him under the table. “What! She is!”

“You don’t have to marry him and you don’t have to be friends with him,” Cas says, ignoring Dean completely, “but you do have to give him a card and some candy.” 

Jack grumbles but does as he’s told. Dean’s legs are starting to fall asleep but he’s become increasingly aware of how fast Jack is growing up and soon-- way too fucking soon, if you ask him-- he won’t be sitting in his lap at all so he silently resigns to not feeling his legs for the next ten minutes. 

“All done!” Jack yells and throws his hands in the air. 

“Sweet, now let's stick some candy in these bad boys and call it a night.”

“Wait, there’s a extra, what should I do with it?”

“Is there anyone who’s not in your class that you’d like to give a valentine to?”

Jack gasps and slaps a hand over Dean’s eyes, nearly poking one out in the process. “Close your eyes, Daddy!”

Dean dutifully closes his eyes until Jack tells him he’s finished. He slowly opens one eye and sees the pink card held about an inch from his face.

“For me?” he gasps dramatically.

“Yes!”

The front of the card reads ‘You’re the best!’ and when he opens it, he finds ‘Daddy’ written in some of the neatest handwriting from Jack he’s ever seen. Beneath it he’s signed his name, the K backwards like it always is on his first try. 

“I gave it to you because you never had one before and also you’re the best daddy ever, who makes me yummy chocolate chip pancakes and cheeseburgers and does funny voices for bedtime stories,” Jack explains. 

Dean wraps his arms around his son and rests his cheek on top of his head, his heart feeling fit to burst. “Thank you, Jack. I’m gonna keep this forever.” And he means it. 

“Welcome. Can I have a lollipop now?”

Cas points at Dean. “He gets that from you.”

 After the valentines are carefully put away and they’ve had dinner (plastic free and edible, which Cas seems proud of), Jack gets a bath and is tucked in bed. Dean and Cas spend the rest of the night sprawled out on the couch watching reruns of Doctor Sexy and drinking beer. Party city. 

When the Doctor Sexy reruns switch to Jeopardy, Dean knows it’s officially midnight. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.” 

They tip their bottles together. 

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you by not planning anything,” Cas says, picking at the label on his beer. 

“What? No, of course not. We never do anything. I thought we were on the same page about avoiding that shit after our first Valentine’s together.”

They both shudder thinking about the sweaty cupid ‘handshake’. 

“We are, but we never actually discussed it and I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head. “I think having Jack around and seeing the world through his eyes, experiencing things in a new way, it makes me wonder if we’re not missing out on some of the little things.”

“Hey, we appreciate lots of the little things-- like you not cooking frozen pizza with the plastic still on.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, okay. So you sayin’ you wanna celebrate now?”

“Sam and Eileen do.”

“Sam and Eileen are saps. And they don’t have a five year old running around.” 

Cas makes a sound of agreement and softly strokes the back of Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “You make a fair point. In all honesty, I don’t want to do anything extravagant but I would like to take the opportunity to remind you how much I love you. Am I allowed to be sappy for a moment?”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess you deserve one day to get it all out.” He puts their bottles down and faces his husband. “Lay it on me, big guy.”

Instead of looking annoyed, Cas just looks fond. “You know, it’s ironic that a man as full of love as you are is so quick to dismiss any sentimentality. You are a fascinating creature.” A thumb sweeps under his eye where he’s got permanent dark circles and settles at the corner where his lines get deeper every day. It makes Dean want to squirm but he holds still under the reverent touch. “Perhaps that’s why I never stood a chance.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says, dropping his eyes to the couch. 

“Hush, I’m allowed, I’ll have you know. My husband gave me explicit permission.”

“Well, your husband is thinking about rescinding the offer.”

“I love you.” 

Cas says it with such conviction that Dean can’t help but look back at him, at his bright eyes and soft smile; at the evidence of his love written all over his face. 

“I love you, endlessly, Dean Winchester. For everything that you are; the good and the bad. From the moment I saw your soul in hell, so bright it was almost blinding, I knew I would never be the same. You breathed life into me, gave me meaning and purpose, taught me the value of love, and you did it all, selflessly, simply by being the man that you are.” Cas draws him close, presses their foreheads together. “I can never give back all that you’ve given me but I promise you will have my love until we are nothing but a forgotten memory, and longer still.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and they breath together in the small space between them. 

“You can’t-- you can’t just say shit like that,” he whispers. 

“And why not?”

“Because it’s not true, first of all.” Cas opens his mouth to argue but Dean covers it with his hand and hurries on. “You’ve already given all of that back and more. God, Cas, if it weren’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. I needed to stick around-- to take care of Sammy, to stop whatever or whoever was trying to end the world next-- but you… you made me want to live. Really live, not just survive, you know? I fuckin’ love you, man.”

Cas pushes Dean’s hand away and presses his lips against Dean’s fervently. 

When they finally break apart for desperately needed air, they both pretend they aren’t sniffling like little girls. 

“You happy now? Can we go back to not doing this?”

Cas laughs. “I hadn’t planned on making it quite so emotional, I apologize. You always bring out the most in me.”

“Ugh, enough,” Dean groans, shoving Cas’ smiling face away. “You aren’t allowed to say anything even approaching romantic for the next twenty four hours, capiche?”

“I can agree to that, as long as I’m allowed to give you a gift later.”

“I thought you said you didn’t plan anything?”

“It’s nothing big.” Cas’ fingers sneak under Dean’s shirt and trail along his stomach, dipping to his waistband. “I just happened to walk by Victoria’s Secret and see a pair of pink satin panties in the window.”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster. “Oh yeah?” he says breathlessly. “Not gonna lie, that seems more like a present for you.”

Cas hums and leans over Dean, forcing him to lie back on the couch. “Well then I suppose I’ll just have to do whatever you want while you wear them.”

When he kisses him he tastes like cherry candy and Dean thinks could learn to like this holiday. 

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 5: “Thanks for lending me your jacket.” - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

A/N: Okay I understand Christmas is over but I still had to finish the 12 days of Christmas challenge and I skipped over day five and never came back till today! Here is day five written for my fellow Santi lover @itspdameronthings​. 

Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking! 

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Single Mom Reader 

Warning: 18 + for language, single mom, kids

My Masterlist 

Day 5: "Thanks for lending me your jacket." - Santiago 'Pope' Garcia

 The door to the ballet studio slams open, and Frankie hustles inside with his four-year-old daughter Mia in tow. The other moms all smile at him as he shuffles her off to the other children, and she gets in line and starts warm-ups. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and readjusts his hat falling down into the seat next to you. 

"What did I miss?" he asks, and you laugh. 

"Well, Minnie's mom was talking about how she caught her husband sleeping with the nanny. But, she isn't going to say anything because he had her sign a prenup, and she would get nothing. Oh, and Peter's mom has been talking nonstop about her upcoming surgery. Apparently, you lean toward him conspiratorially, "she is getting some new," you gesture across your chest, and he laughs. 

You and Frankie had met six months ago when you both enrolled your daughters in dance class. Being the only single parents and the only ones whose daily life wouldn't be on an episode of Wives of Orange County, you, two, had bonded instantly. You had even been out on a date, but it quickly became apparent you were just meant to be friends. Your daughters had connected instantly and become best friends. Mia and Harper were inseparable.

"What about Tina's mom? Did she get the nose job?" he asks, looking around the room, and you laugh. 

"I think so; it's their nanny again," you point over at the strict-looking woman reading a magazine in the corner, and he nods smiling. 

"So," he claps a hand over your leg, "Are we still on for the tree lighting thing this weekend? The kids perform at seven, so I thought we could all meet up for dinner at the Brewery down the street like five-fifteen or so." 

"Yeah, that sounds great! Harper is so excited about dancing for a crowd, she is turning out to be quite the diva." 

"I know what you mean; Mia is the same way! I was wondering...would you mind if Mia's godfather joins us on Saturday? He's in town from Columbia for the holiday and is going to be staying with us. I've been talking about you, and he says he wants to meet his replacement." 

"His replacement?"

"Oh, he is fully convinced that I've replaced him with you as my best friend," he chuckles. 

You laugh, and both of you get glares from the other dance moms. "That's fine with me. What's he like?" 

"Well...how do you describe Pope, well his name is Santiago, but I've been calling him Pope since the Delta Force days. He is loyal, hardworking, and a complete and total slut. I bet you fifty bucks he will flirt with you the whole night." 

You snort, "With me?" 

"Come on, you're gorgeous. Honestly, you are just his type."

"Yeah, all except for one little issue," you point towards your daughter, who smiles at your brightly as she tries to do a pirouette. 

"Oh, that won't deter him at all; he loves Mia. I'm sure Harper will have him wrapped around her finger too by the end of the night." He smiles at you, and you nod. 

"Okay, I guess I will have to meet this friend of yours and see if he's worthy of the title." Frankie looks at you, quizzically, "Oh sorry, the title of the best friend, it has to be earned." He laughs, and you both hush as the teacher looks at you both sternly, causing you to erupt in a fit of giggles, Frankie digging his elbow into your side as he covers his smile with his hand. 

The week passes quickly, and it's the weekend before you know it. The Brewery's parking lot is packed, and a light dusting of snow lies upon the ground. You pull Harper from her car seat, and she babbles away at you about everything. The change in temperature from the outside to the inside is stifling, and you loosen your scarf, cursing under your breath about forgetting your coat. The red dress beneath it shimmers in the light, complete with black leggings tucked into your black boots. 

"HARPER!" a shrill voice screams from across the room. Your daughter takes off across the room and into the arms of Mia, who is jumping up and down. You smile at the two and make your way over to the table, hugging Frankie. 

"Where is this so-called best friend of yours?" you tease, moving into the booth across from him. 

"Oh, Pope went to the restroom; he should be back in a few minutes. Why? Excited to meet him?" he teases, and you smile. 

"No, just curious, I wonder if-" the words die against your lips as you watch the most beautiful man come towards your table. With salt and pepper curls, clean-shaven, soft juicy lips, and the darkest expressive brown eyes that twinkle in amusement wrapped up in a dark tan wrapping. 

"Holy shit," you whisper under your breath, but of course, Harper hears. 

"Mommy! Swear jar!" she sings, grinning at you, and you glare at her before watching the man slide in the empty chair across from you. 

"So this is the famous Y/N that Frankie won't stop talking about. I must say his words do not do you justice; you're stunning," he holds a hand out to shake, and when you touch, the electricity crackles, and you quickly withdraw your hand. 

His smile fades, and he just watches you. You could get lost in the depth of his eyes, and Frankie coughs loudly to break the tension. You look away and turn to Harper, figuring out what she wants for dinner. The waiter comes a few minutes later, and you all order. The girls get Mac N cheese and chicken nuggets, knowing them they will end up sharing all the food. 

"Uhm, I will take the jalapeno cream cheeseburger with the black bean patty, please, and the House Amber on draft please," the waiter takes your orders and walks off. 

You try really hard not to openly stare at Santiago, but he doesn't take notice, never taking his eyes off you. "So, tell me about yourself," you take a sip of your beer and finally look at him, his lips turned up into a wide grin. You spend most of the dinner conversing with Santiago while Frankie keeps the two girls occupied. You don't miss the not so subtle wink he sends your way as you almost choke on your beer. 

"Are you okay?" Frankie comes around and pats you hard on the back. "You're flirting," he teases quietly next to your ear, and you hiss at him to shut up, glaring. “You owe me fifty bucks,” he laughs. 

He grins triumphantly as he retakes his seat and checks his watch. "Okay, everybody, we got to get going over to the tree lighting. Girls, finish up and get your coats on. "I'll get the bill tonight." 

"Frankie! I can pay for myself-" 

"I insist," he says, putting a hand to his chest, "come on, girls. Ah, don't look at me like that; you can get the next one." Harper hugs you before grabbing Frankie's outstretched hand and going to pay. 

"Are you two dating?" Santiago asks bluntly. "Or fucking?" 

You laugh, "Uhm, no, Frankie really just is my best friend. We tried going on a date once, and it was like dating my brother." 

He chuckles, "yes, I can imagine that would be awkward. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, are you single?" 

"Why do you want to know," you rise and grab your purse, and he stands to offer his hand. You look at it and then back up to see the small smile on his face. Taking his hand, he intertwines your fingers and leads you outside. You look and see Frankie and the girls already halfway to the tree lighting, and you grin at Frankie's not so subtle matchmaking skills. 

"Looks like they left without us," Santiago laughs, tugging your hand into the crook of his elbow and taking off at a more leisurely pace. You shiver as light snowflakes begin to fall. Cascading the area into a winter wonderland. He stops walking and shrugs out of his thick overcoat, and hands it to you. 

"I can't take your coat," you try to refuse, but he grabs your arm and puts it on you like you would your daughter. "I…" the argument dies on your lips as he gives you a playful glare. "Thanks for lending me your jacket." 

"Now, you're just going to have to keep me warm." You laugh together, and he retakes your hand and intertwines your fingers. "So about what I said earlier? Are you seeing anyone?" 

"Would I be holding hands and flirting with you all night if I was? Do you think I'm that type of woman?" He quickly throws his hands up and shakes his head no. 

"No, no, that's not...I just, shit, I am fucking this up, aren't I?" 

"No," you chuckle, "But I'm having fun watching you try. Frankie told me you were a huge flirt, and I should watch out for you. I like what I have seen so far, and you are incredibly handsome with a nice butt. So yes, I am single. Now, what are you going to do about it." 

You both arrive at the tree lighting and look for Frankie, who waves you over near the doorway to the community center. He smiles at you, both seeing your hands intertwined and raising one eyebrow. "The girls are with their instructor there going to go on in about ten minutes. Also, remember that Frankie is the perfect name for a boy." 

Santiago punches him in the arm, and Frankie laughs. "Shut up, Frankie," you scoff. "I'm going to go get some hot chocolate inside. Do you want anything?" 

"I'll come with you," Santi follows close, still holding your hand as you wait inside for hot cocoa and cookies. "You asked me what am I am going to do about it?" 

You nod, looking at him, "Yeah, and did you decide?" You take a step forward as the line moves. 

"Yes, right about now," he dips you, and you give a little yelp as he plants his lips onto yours. His lips are warm and soft, and you melt into the kiss as the small crowd cheers around you. When he brings you back up, you feel lightheaded and swoon a little, but he catches you laughing. "Sorry, the moment was just too perfect," he points up, and you smile at the mistletoe hanging overhead. 

"Well, wouldn't want to waste perfectly good mistletoe," you kiss him again, and he responds. Running his hands over your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening it. 

"Excuse me? Are you still in line for hot chocolate?" An older man taps Santi's shoulder, and you break away giggling, burying your face in his neck. 

"No, sir, I think we're going to skip the hot chocolate; I got something sweeter right here." 

The older man blushes before moving around you, and you both burst out laughing before he kisses you again. The emcee from outside begins the program, and you shout, running and dragging Santi behind you. Frankie looks at you both and just shakes his head laughing. "What's so funny?" you ask. 

"Nothing, I just never realized that red was your color, Pope," he teases, and you look at Santi, shocked before you laugh and quickly grab a wipe from your purse and wipe it off. You wipe off your own lipstick, and both men watch, amused. 

"What now?" you huff. 

"Why are you wiping off your own lipstick?" Frankie questions smiling.

"Oh, I am kissing him a lot more before this night is over. The last thing I need is the Spanish Inquisition from my daughter about why the nice man from the restaurant is wearing my lipstick." Santiago's lips turn up into a smile before he kisses you again, and you pull back smiling at Frankie, who has his mouth agape. 

"I am really looking forward to kissing you more, but can I also take you out for dinner tomorrow night? Maybe Frankie can watch Harper?" Frankie nods, agreeing with the plan. 

You kiss him again as the ballet music starts, "I would really love that." 

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @heythere-mel​ @justanotherblonde23​ @artsymaddie​ @anetteaneta​ @lunarthoughts​ @aellynera​ @lucifer-​ @houseofthirst​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @chicken-ona-stick​ @josepedropascal​ @letoartreiides​ @revolution-starter​

[multifandomfanficreclist]

Witcher Fic Mass Post

I have delved deep into the Witcher fandom during these quarantimes. This is a selection of the fics I’ve enjoyed.

All are Geralt/Jaskier unless stated otherwise.

***

Louder and Louder - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295869

Geralt tries to puzzle out why Jaskier keeps following him into danger after danger... completely missing the obvious. There's too great a gulf between what his witcher senses pick up, and what his damaged heart is willing to accept.

//

 "The bard’s heart always beats faster whenever the witcher draws near. That isn't unusual. So do the hearts of most humans he encounters. Not only do they blanch and recoil at the sight of his white hair and amber eyes, but they begin to sweat, the stench of their fear a sour tang at the back of his throat.

 But the bard never seems to reek of fear."

***

The Courting Jewellery A/B/O - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689562

Geralt doesn’t wear his courting jewelry—the medallion is apparently a witcher thing, not an omega one—and Jaskier supposes that makes sense. Geralt leads a very active life, and probably saves the jewelry for situations it won’t run the constant risk of getting ruined in. Certainly a nice set of earrings would be a lot more fragile than the plain studs he wears instead. A lot of omegas don’t wear their courting jewelry day to day, anyway, or at least not most of it. Geralt’s hardly unusual in that.

It’s a bit of a shame, though, because Jaskier’d like to see him in it.

***

You Follow? - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620703

I’m a Jaskier Rivia stan first and a person second @whitewolfpackleader: Did @bardofficial win a Grammy? No. But he DID put his husband in a leather tunic for the red carpet and in that sense, we’re all winners tonight

***

Front Row Praises - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326214

The girl rolls her eyes at him. “If you’re just going to stand here ogling the witcher, maybe go and do it out of the way.”

“Ogling.” Jaskier scoffs. “Who’s ogling?”

She looks unimpressed. “Have you told him you want him to fuck you?”

***

Even a Small Love - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473670

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

***

Redwood and Dandelion - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681252

"The Witcher's bought a room for the night, and says he'll pay double for anyone who can bed him without stinking of fear the whole time."

"Oh, I've fucking got this," Jaskier promised.

Or, the one where Jaskier works in a brothel and falls head over heels for the stoic, not-actually-that-scary Witcher who comes in requesting his services.

Geralt doesn't know what he's getting himself into.

***

Petrichor - Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866559/chapters/54652891

 “Geralt…? What, by Melitele’s tits, are you doing? The door, man, normal people use a d--... Geralt?” He noticed it now. The feverish sheen on the Witcher’s skin, the alert, skittish look in his eyes and the--. He cleared the distance between them in three strides. Geralt retreated until his back hit the wall with a dull thud, but Jaskier would not be deterred. He shoved his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck and breathed in deeply, his hands gripping the edges of the damp cloak draped over broad shoulders. “You’re…”

 “I need… need to ask you… for a…” He clenched his teeth, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Two gloved hands lifted to push Jaskier away from his chest; it felt like trying to move a mountain. Not because Jaskier pushed back, but because every fibre of his being wanted to pull the other way. Ask for a what though? ‘Favour’ didn’t quite fit the bill for what he was about to request, and so he stared at Jaskier with those intense golden eyes, while mentally scrambling for a coherent explanation amidst the brain fog.

The saga of Geralt and Jaskier getting together, falling in love with Eskel, and learning that it's all right to want (and let themselves have) things.

***

Where There’s a Witcher - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604140

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

***

Tired Symphony Verse - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597723

Silence reigned between them. Outside there was the dull sound of training swords clashing and Jaskier turned his gaze towards the window, watching the sky outside.

“I’m-- sorry.” Geralt said. It sounded truly remorseful.

Jaskier took a deep breath and then tipped himself slightly to the side, pressing his shoulder against the witcher’s.

“I know.”

***

There Goes my Heart Beating - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382665

“Sometimes,” Geralt says quietly, “I forget that you care.”

Jaskier looks up surprised and sees that Geralt is looking down at him with a small frown on his face. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighs, shaking his head fondly, “you foolish beef-brain. Of course I care.”

Or,

Five times Jaskier asks Geralt questions, and the one time Geralt asked Jaskier.

***

Shrug off the Shroud - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027161

askier's student doesn’t see him when she skids into the tavern. Her friends are already present, drinking merrily, and she slaps their table so hard their tankards rattle.

“Have you heard?" She flashes a gossiper's secretive grin. "The White Wolf’s gone mad.”

After Geralt sends Jaskier away, Jaskier returns to Oxenfurt and builds a good (albeit unfulfilling) life there. He's fine—moving on, truly—until gut-wrenching rumors start to circulate that the White Wolf's lost his his mind. Jaskier's a bard. A truth-teller. He can't just let the rumors go unsubstantiated.

***

Sometimes a Hammer, Sometimes a Lockpick - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998961

Geralt's been in a dungeon for two weeks and is understandably frustrated. Jaskier, on the other hand, is what one might call... livid.

***

New Monster Stories - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097970/chapters/55260658

 “So do you have a name?”

 “Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

 Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

 The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

***

When Midnights Break their Sleep - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647292

  The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

 shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

 "It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

***

An Exaltation of Wolves - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687699

Jaskier accompanies Geralt to Kaer Morhen for the winter and finds the other Witchers just as prickly--and just as deserving of love--as the White Wolf.

***

Lilacs and Dandelions - Jaskier/Yennefer/Geralt - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929526/chapters/54808162

“The Witcher believes you’re under a spell,” Yennefer said, conversationally, drawing a sip from her tea.

“I most certainly am,” said Jaskier to her in a warm drawl that Geralt recognized as the tone of voice he slipped into when flirting and frankly, things needed to start making more sense and fast before he gave into his impulse to do something rash and wholly unhelpful. Namely, chuck himself out the cottage window and into the sea.

Or Geralt seeks out Yennefer only to find her, of all unbelievable and ridiculous things, shacking up with his bard.

***

Woodash and Iron and Leather - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114921

Jaskier is the only person Geralt's ever been around who doesn't smell of fear

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part eight Word count: ±2900 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part eight summary: Zoë might have accepted the boys help, that doesn’t mean they get along. If the hostility between them isn’t enough, Sam and Dean have some unresolved issues of their own. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     A little less than an hour later, Sam, Dean and Zoë are sharing a table in In-N-Out. All three scheduled in some time to trade their business suits for their everyday clothes. The boys are comfortable in plaid shirts, worn jeans, and dusty old shoes, while Zoë looks like a totally different person now that she left her black pumps, blazer and dress pants in her hotel room. She’s wearing her hair down, her blown locks playfully curled up after last night’s shower. Her grey shirt has the famous Pink Floyd logo on it; a ray entering a triangle and breaks off into a rainbow when it exits. The brand new biker jacket hangs over the back of the bench while she plays with the loose tie of her All Stars shoe, wiggling her foot rhythmically. 

     U2’s Beautiful Day is playing in the background. It fits, considering the clear blue sky and warm sun outside. Satisfied, Dean and Zoë devour their burgers while Sam has settled for a milkshake, since they don’t have salads at this restaurant. Stunned and a little disgusted, he watches how Zoë intends to break the world record, tailed by Dean. The younger Winchester stares at them both, as the huntress swallows the last bite of the massive Animal Burger and starts on an additional cheeseburger she ordered. Apparently, Zoë doesn’t feel the need to hold back, despite having company, but then again, she wouldn’t change her demeanor for anyone.

     Dean doesn’t even notice her manners as he shares her appetite. He’s more annoyed that she finished her burger before he did. He looks up for a moment as she licks the sauce from her fingers after finishing, then continues eating even faster than he did a moment ago.

     “Dude! Seriously, a food race?” Sam chuckles.      “Wholth?” Dean says with his mouth full.      He swallows his bite, which apparently was a little bigger than he anticipated. He coughs and hits his chest with his fist, Zoë can’t help to laugh when she sees tears appear in his eyes.      “What are you? Fuckin’ five years old?” she grins.      “I wasn’t racing you,” he mutters hoarse.      “Oh, you so were.” She sniggers, dipping one of Dean’s fries in mayonnaise. “Are you gonna eat that?”      Obviously enjoying herself, she waits for his reaction. He watches her move the fry to her mouth with a look of shock and repugnance on his features. How dare she?      Zoë chews on the snack provokingly. as expected he goes for the counter attack.      “Don’t touch my fucking food,” he warns, pulling his portion of fries to his side of the table, clearly annoyed with his colleague stealing. “And I wasn’t racing you, ‘cause if I did, you would be many burger lengths behind, woman.”      “That’s what’s bugging you the most, isn’t it? Dean Winchester just got defeated by a girl,” she nags.      “I can take you with ease,” he claims, confidently.      She laughs in return.“You wouldn’t stand a chance.”      “Wanna bet?”      “Knock it off, you two.” Sam breaks it up and looks from one to the other. “Now, could we concentrate on the case? We all got better things to do.”      “I have better things to do. You on the other hand just have an unhealthy obsession with helping me,” she corrects, as she drinks from her milkshake through the straw.      “Whatever,” Sam counters with a huff. “Let’s focus here. We’re dealing with a frustrated child spirit most likely on a killing spree.”      “Yeah, but how the hell is she still here? I already burned her bones,” Zoë brings to mind.      “She must be connected to some kind of object then, are you sure you burned everything?” Dean checks.

     Zoë slightly tilts her head and glares at him with an attitude. Is he fucking kidding?      “We’re sure, I was there with her,” Sam confirms, jumping in before the huntress can snap at his brother.      “Nothing more romantic than a night at the graveyard,” Dean comments with a little grin, earning a death stare from Sam, and so he continues seriously. “We need to figure out what’s keeping her here before she goes all Mike Tyson again.”      “She probably targets the people who are directly or indirectly responsible for her death. I don’t think she’ll rest until she kills every single one of them unless we do something about it,” Zoë speaks up.      “So, who could be her next target?” Sam wonders.      “It could be anyone, but the biggest candidates for a one way ticket to the land of the dead are probably Mrs. Shire and her son, maybe even Mrs. Dawlson,” Zoë realizes.      “Who?” Sam and Dean question at the same time.      “Her teacher at Elementary School. She knew about the abuse,” she informs, sipping her shake.

     Dean seems confused. After all, he knows Zoë only arrived here last night. “How do you even know that?”      “Because I had a fucking chat with her, asshat,” she claims, snappy.      Dean bites his tongue and shakes his head slightly, letting a silent sigh slip from his lips. This woman is unbelievable. If it wasn’t for Sammy being so dead set on helping the bitch, he would get the hell out of dodge.      Ignoring her comment, he picks up a few fries and stuffs his mouth full, not noticing the exchange of looks between Zoë and Sam. As soon as the youngest Winchester makes eye contact, he knows she didn’t talk to Mrs. Dawlson; she saw something in one of her flashbacks.      “There could be a dozen more possible victims we don’t know about,” Sam states, quickly filling the void before it becomes noticeable.      “True, but to figure out who might be next, we need to find more info on what happened to Laura,” she declares.      “We already know what happened to her. Her dad abused her till death followed, nothing to add to that,” Sam says.      “No, I mean after that.”      Zoë leans forward, snitching another fry from the hunter across from her, who snaps his head up to her, staring her down and wondering where she got the nerve to steal his food twice.      “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that no one found out about this murder yet? Because that what it was; murder. Her father killed her. Child services should have been all over this, especially with another minor in the household. Laura was buried without a conviction, while she obviously did not die of natural causes,” the smart woman brings to mind. “Why is that?”      “I mean, the system is flawed. Maybe they missed it?” Sam suggests.      “No, I don’t believe that. She must have been a mess, considering what her victims look like,” she ponders.      Both boys nod as a sign of agreement; she has a point. Dean rubs his chin as he thinks. Then his facial expression changes, the metaphorical light bulb switching on in his brain. He glances up at the woman opposite of him, who watches him questioning.

     “Dr. Hughes”, he says out of the blue.      “I know that name,” Zoë realizes, trying to remember where she has heard it before.      “It’s the doc from the morgue that we talked to,” he fills in. “He did the slicing on Shire’s dead body and also mentioned Ronald was a friend of his. I thought he responded weird when Sam mentioned the Hobbit dude.”      “Is the Methodist Medical Center the only dead men’s storage in town?” Zoë asks the whizkid on Dean’s right.      “Not sure. Let me check.” Sam takes out his laptop and sets it up on the table. As he works the computer, Zoë continues their brainstorming session.

     “One way or the other, we need to get our hands on Laura’s death report and we need to figure out who wrote it. I’m guessing someone covered for Shire,” she speaks up.      “How is that even possible these days, with all the paperwork and the forensics?” Sam rubs his temple, taking in Zoë for a second, but then returns his gaze to the laptop screen in front of him.      “You think we’re the only ones who lie and deceive?” Zoë returns, smartly. 

     “We need to talk to more people. Someone who was there and experienced the abuse first hand and might know more about the cover-up. The Shire dude’s wife maybe?” Dean suggests.      “We can’t turn up on her doorstep and confront her. If she doesn’t know her husband possibly erased evidence, it’s just gonna bring a shit ton of drama and a hell of alot explaining to do when she starts asking questions,” Zoë makes clear.

     She forks her fingers through her hair and checks her phone for the time; shit. It’s almost 1 PM. Frustrated about the many blank pages of this case, she sighs, pulling at the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. There’s so much about this job that doesn’t add up.      “I don’t get how she could still be here. There was nothing left of her remains,” she sighs.      “There has to be an explanation for that,” Sam ponders, as he stares at the address on display. “Anyway, there are no other morgues in town besides the one at the hospital on W. Kingshighway.”   

     “I tell you what.” With a neat throw Zoë tosses her empty plastic cup into the garbage can across the aisle. “Sam, you keep an eye on the Shire family. Dean’s gonna have a chat with Dr. Hughes, see if you can get some info on the death report. I’m gonna tail the teacher for a while,” she decides.      Sam nods approvingly before his brother can object. He folds down the laptop screen and gets up. “Sounds good to me.”      “Make sure you keep your eyes open, that little pain in the ass manages to beat up grown ups without the people next door noticing,” Zoë warns as she picks up her helmet from the bench.      “You think this is our first rodeo?” Dean responds with a scoff.      “You didn’t see me coming the other night in Rochester,” she counters sassy.

     As she passes him she pets his shoulder, the one she put a bullet in only two nights ago. Dean flinches when a dim pain shoots through his arm again. That fucking b--      Before he can call her names, she exits the fast food restaurant, probably expecting the Winchesters to follow like obedient dogs. Stunned, he watches her walk over to her motorcycle, huffing in disbelief. First she doesn’t want their help, and now she’s giving out orders like she rules the fucking world. He didn’t think it could be possible, but his detest for her just grew to an all time high.

     “Mark my words, one of these days I’m gonna shoot her down,” he announces frustrated.      “Ahuh,” Sam responds, cynicism on his tongue as he puts the laptop in his backpack. “Just make sure you don’t pull a gun on her in public, will you?”      “Can’t make any promises.” His brother huffs. “Anyway, you can have the car if you drop me off at the hospital. Let’s get this over with so that we can put some distance between us and the Wicked Witch of the West.” 

     Sam’s lips form a constricted smile, luckily his brother doesn’t notice. He has to admit that he’s enjoying the fact that his big brother is being told what to do by a girl, while normally he only takes orders from one person and one person only; their dad. What he finds interesting, however, is that despite a few muttered objections, Dean actually follows through with it. 

     “And you know what’s the fun part about all this?” Sam nags as they exit In-N-Out.      “What?” Dean responds, annoyed, scanning the parking lot in order to spot Zoë’s Road King.      “You have to dress like a penguin again.” The younger Winchester grins as he opens the door to the passenger’s seat.

     His brother stares at him over the top of the car, realizing he’s going undercover as the FBI Agent Young once more.      “Ah, come on! Can’t we trade?” he asks desperately.      Sam laughs and sits down. “No way, dude.”      Dean does the same and closes the door, complaining. “Man, I hate suits.”      “You think I’m comfortable in one during these temperatures?” Sam returns.      “Sam, even if I’d be freezing my ass off, I will never be at ease in that ridiculous outfit,” Dean states while turning the ignition, allowing Gimme Three Steps by Lynyrd Skynyrd to play on the cassette deck.

     “I’m not trading places. I can work some stuff out while I’m guarding the house,” Sam explains, looking outside the window, squinting his eyes to protect them from the sun.      “What stuff?” Dean questions, making sure it’s not just some lame excuse.      Sam looks aside and hesitates for a moment, but then tells him anyway. “I want to call some friends of Dad,” he admits.

     He feels Dean’s piercing gaze, but doesn’t look up. It’s only a matter of seconds before Dean pops the first question.      “Why?” Dean asks sternly.      “Why?! I don’t know about you, Dean, but I wanna find him,” Sam returns defensive.      Dean grips the wheel a little tighter; as if he doesn’t want to find Dad. Seriously? “So do I, but I don’t think it’s wise to start calling random hunters to ask where he is, Sam.”      “I won’t call ‘random’ hunters. I’ll call a few old friends, and why the hell not?” his brother questions.      “Because Dad doesn’t want to be found,” the oldest of the two claims.      “How could you possibly know that, Dean?! Seriously, do you have some kind of telepathic connection with the guy or what?” Sam reacts.      “Hey, you’re the psychic one, not me,” Dean counters. “If Dad wants us involved in his hunt, he will contact us one way or the other. You know that.”      “No, I don’t! I haven’t heard a word from him since I left for Stanford. I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man,” the younger brother argues.      “You were the one who fucking left, Sam. And let me tell you somethin’,” Dean pauses to enforce his words. “I trust him because he’s a damn good hunter.”      “He’s human! He makes mistakes just like anyone else, only this time you won’t be around to back him up. It’s not some monster that he’s hunting, this is the monster! The one that killed Mom, that killed Jess!” Sam adds up.      “You think I don’t realize that?” The car stops at a traffic light and Dean turns to him, his piercing green eyes judging his brother, the same way John so often has. “Of course I’d rather be backing him up right now, but he decided to do this alone and I accept that.”      “Why the hell, though? Just because he says so?” Sam huffs, shaking his head disappointed.      “Hell yes, because he says so!” his brother snaps. “He leads this mission, and we stick to the orders he gives us. It’s about fucking time you show him the respect he deserves.”      “He has to earn that first,” the younger Winchester responds.      “He earned that a long time ago. Every time he protected you, protected us. Everything that we were taught, all the skills that we’ve learned. You were so caught up in the illusion that school was gonna work out, that when he objected because he didn’t want you to be on your own, you cut all ties,” Dean barks at him as he accelerates faster than necessary. “Why the hell do you want to find him so bad if you hate his guts, huh?”      “I don’t hate his guts,” Sam says, his voice a lot less hostile than a moment ago.

     Dean takes his eyes off the road again and glances at the passenger, noticing the defeated expression on Sammy’s face. Annoyed with himself he looks ahead again, shutting his eyes for a second when a pang of guilt distinguishes the anger in a matter of seconds. He meant to give his little brother a reality check, but all he did was hurt him.      “Sam, I get you want answers. But calling his friends isn’t the way to do it. We just gotta be patient.”

     His brother's jaw clenches and he looks away, not denying nor confirming that Dean is right and that he himself will listen. It doesn’t matter anyway; there’s no way he can turn his brother’s mind around. And Dean claims Sam is the one who is like their old man? Just now he was sure to sit next to a younger version of Dad. 

     He can't agree with the reasoning behind Dean’s actions, though. His older brother dragged him out of school to find Dad and now that it’s coming down to that, he doesn’t want to go out on a search. Sam on the other hand, he has to find him. Not only does he have some unresolved issues with his father, John is also the only hunter who has been tracking the thing that ruined their lives. He is the key to finding answers. It’s all he can think of; hunting down the bastard that killed Mom and Jessica. 

     Without saying another word, Dean drives his Impala to their motel, convinced he made his point, even though he hurt his brother’s feelings to get the message across. But Sam isn’t going to let go, neither will he trade places with Dean on their jobs. During his hours of watching the Shire family, he’s gonna make those calls and he is going to find their father. Whether Dean likes it, or not.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).    

Read chapter nine here

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Not Losing You (Part 3)

Summary: Dean’s not out of the woods yet and there’s more trouble on the way...

Masterlist

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,000ish

Warnings: language, life-threatening illness, implied past sexual harassment/assault

_____

“Hey,” said Sam, shaking your shoulder awake. You were back in your room and you were wide eyed, instant wetness filling them. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s okay.”

“He’s gonna-”

“No, like seriously. His numbers shot up like crazy last night and all this morning. He’s ahead of schedule even,” said Sam.

“What?”

“The second transplant worked,” said Sam with a smile. “Dr. Ross said it’s very likely he’ll pull through to the three week mark which is super important.”

“I thought…” you said.

“Me too. Last night he really started to rebound I guess. You were passed out wincing in that wheelchair this morning when they stuck you back in here but I think you’re up for a visit. Dean’s up, actually awake, if you want to pay him a visit,” said Sam.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really love to.”

Two Weeks Later

“Your labs are very good, Dean,” said Dr. Ross outside his room. “Your counts are coming back and there’s no reaction to the transplant.”

“Yeah but about that other thing I asked about,” said Dean.

“You can’t have pie, Dean. Strict diet,” he said. You chuckled and Dean smirked at you, staring at the door to the room. “No visitors just yet.”

“Someday I’ll bust out of here, sweetheart,” he said.

“I’ll make you a pie once you’re allowed some,” you said. “How’s that sound?”

“As if I didn’t have even more of a reason to live,” he chuckled.

“Alright, love birds. Dean needs to rest and Y/N has work I believe,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, I got a date with you tonight, cutie. Seven sharp,” said Dean.

“I’ll be here,” you said.

“Y/N, I’ll walk you out,” said Dr. Ross. You waved bye to Dean before you headed to the elevators, Dr. Ross, pausing halfway there. “We’ve noticed something about Dean’s recovery that’s a little odd but maybe not.”

“What’s that?”

“He does better and heals faster when you’re here. I suspected after his numbers recovered on the breakeven night a few weeks back. It’s like the opposite of broken heart syndrome,” he said. “Your presence helps him heal from our best guess. It’s likely psychological which is helping with the physical. I know you have work but any time you can spend with him seems to be helping.”

“This is a weird question but do you have an extension plug I can borrow?”

You spent the day working on your laptop outside Dean’s room, Dean taking naps on and off, sometimes chatting with you but mostly watching you work or listening to the TV. Around five you told him you wanted to go home and change for your date, Dean laughing but you promised you’d be back quick.

“That was not the outfit I was expecting,” said Dean when you sat down in the chair two hours later and tucked your backpack underneath.

“Sweatpants are the shit,” you said, pulling your blanket out and tossing it over yourself. “Want to have a sleepover?”

“I’m so ready for a sleepover date,” he said, sitting up in bed and smirking. “Is that my shirt?”

“Maybe,” you said, snuggling into the soft chair. 

“God, you are attractive,” he said.

“I know. So hot,” you said, giggling when he stared so goofily at you. “What?”

“You look happy,” he said. “I like happy you.”

“You really have no right for making me as happy as you do,” you said.

“I know I put you through a lot this past month,” he said. “I mean a lot. But despite all that, I think you’re actually happier.”

“I care about you, Dean,” you said, staring off down the hall. “I...I might care too much.”

“Y/N. Sweetheart. Look at me please,” he said. You turned your head and rested it against the glass, Dean looking bashful but serious. “Do I look like I give a fuck about what an acceptable time period is to say I care about you?”

“Loser,” you smiled.

“Sammy told me how upset you got over me almost clocking out early,” he said.

“I care about you,” you said, staring at him. “You’re the first person in a long time that cared about me too.”

“This Liam douchebag, he’s not the only person that’s hurt you,” said Dean. 

“He’s the only one that hurt me in that kind of way,” you said.

“Where are your parents?”

“Where are yours?”

“Why do I have a feeling we’re going to have the same crappy answer?” he asked.

“I can guarantee we don’t,” you said, closing your eyes.

“Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,” he said.

“Disowned,” you said. 

“I punched my dad in the face when I was eighteen. He threw me out. I haven’t spoken to either one since. They don’t even know I have cancer,” said Dean.

“Your parents don’t know?” you said, sitting up and crossing your legs, Dean nodding. You put a hand on the glass and frowned, looking down. “Dean, that’s…”

“They gave up on me a long time ago. I don’t want them around if they can’t accept me for me,” said Dean.

“I understand,” you said, fixing your blanket. “I really wish I could give you a hug right now.”

“Soon I can have visitors,” said Dean. “I’m really looking forward to just laying on the couch or in bed with you.”

“Me too,” you said, resting your forehead against the glass as you stared at your lap. 

“What’s wrong?”

“How could you not tell your parents, Dean? Why didn’t Sam or Jess?” you asked.

“I swore them not to,” said Dean. “I wasn’t good enough for them when I decided to work on cars and have a manual job for a living. I was filth and had wasted years of their lives of scrimping and saving for me to go to school. I told them to give it to Sam and they did. The ironic part is my dad is a mechanic,” said Dean.

“Is it really that bad?” you asked.

“I haven’t heard from them in ten years. I died a long time ago to them,” he said.

“I suppose I’m still getting used to the no parents thing,” you said.

“When’d it happen?” he asked.

“About two years ago,” you said. “I moved here because it was nowhere near them.”

“They hurt you?” he asked. You shook your head and leaned back in your seat.

“I assaulted my cousin’s husband. I even got temporarily arrested if you can believe it,” you said.

“Bad girl,” he teased. You gave him a half smile but he was smiling wide. “Good for you.”

“He got handsy. I may have overreacted. I bruised his groin region apparently,” you said.

“Oh, I so love this story,” said Dean with a smirk. “Hit him where it hurts.”

“The family didn’t think it was so funny. I argued with my parents when they said I should apologize for my reaction. Then my dad made a comment about me being single and I got so angry at them. They’re supposed to protect me, not take someone else’s side when something like that happens. I walked out of their lives and aside from a random christmas card, I don’t hear anything,” you said.

“They know about Liam?” asked Dean.

“You don’t even know the full Liam story,” you said. “It’s not something I want to share in this kind of...setting.”

“The way Sammy talks about it, this guy hurt you bad, didn’t he,” said Dean.

“He and his family will pay. Sam and his old professor are making sure of that,” you said.

“Why won’t you tell me?” asked Dean. “My brother knows.”

“...He’s my lawyer. It’s embarrassing, Dean,” you said.

“You should never be embarrassed someone hurt you.”

“I know. I’m trying to learn that,” you said. You watched him throw back his covers and sit up, swinging his legs over the edge before he stepped over to the glass. “Dean. You need to rest.”

He kneeled down and rested his forehead against the glass, smiling at you when you did the same.

“Maybe someday I can know when you’re ready to tell me,” he said. “But until then...I got a surprise for you for our date, don’t I, Sammy?”

You spun around, Sam smiling as he popped up behind you, set down a food container in a chair and slid it over to you.

“A got you some of that pasta from The York you enjoyed so much. I will live vicariously through you as I suck down some of the blandest nutrient packed food on the planet,” said Dean. “Sammy, your services are no longer required.”

“I can’t wait until I can tackle you again,” said Sam, ruffling your head. “Netflix is on channel 2. Enjoy your date guys.”

“Dean,” you said, smiling as you pulled the container into your lap. “This is…”

“It’s dinner. About time we had our second date,” said Dean, chuckling as he walked across his room and to a table, grabbing a liquid drink and taking it back to bed. “Mmm. Yummy.”

“It keeps you full of vitamins,” you said.

“I want a bacon cheeseburger,” he said. “The second I’m out of here, I want to go get a bacon cheeseburger. And cherry pie.”

“We’ll have to go get some then,” you said.

“What would you like to watch first, sweetheart?”

“Good morning,” said Dean as you stirred awake in your fold out chair. You hummed and stretched, Dean smirking at you from bed. “How was the chair?”

“Pretty good actually. These one’s meant for sleeping are pretty good,” you said. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than usual,” he said as he sat up and you saw Dr. Ross start to head in. 

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you said, yawning as you stood. You were gone only a few minutes but it was enough time apparently for Dr. Ross to tell Dean something.

He was sat on the edge of his bed in the room, staring at the floor when you returned.

“Dean?” you asked, Dr. Ross with his back to you.

“I just…” he said, standing and going to the wall, leaning against it. He put his hands on his face and you shook your head.

“No, you were getting better…” you said, Dean suddenly leaning over to the door and pushing it open. 

“Want to visit?” he smirked, poking his head into the hall.

“Oh my God,” you said, Dr. Ross smiling when he spun around. “I will kill you, Dean.”

“After everything we just went through? Nah,” he said as you walked to the door, Dr. Ross nodding when you stepped inside. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said.

“Remember what I said, Dean,” he said. “Five minutes and then you have treatment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dean as Dr. Ross stepped out. “We have to keep this PG. No touching allowed unfortunately.”

“S’okay. I’m happy to not have a piece of glass between us for once,” you said. “You must be doing better. I thought it’d be another week or two before you’d be allowed to have us come in.”

“I’m doing better than I was expecting. Rossy is putting me on a new treatment. Clinical trial,” he said. “I should say experimental.”

“Does Sam know?” you asked.

“He doesn’t know I said yes. If it works, I go from sixty something percent odds to ninety. Less chance of complications. I just have to not have a reaction today,” said Dean.

“Reaction?” you asked.

“There’s a chance that your body treats it as an allergic reaction. If that happens, I’m done,” he said. “But if it doesn’t-”

“When were you planning on telling me this?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“...After the treatment. People in the study that have a reaction, they have it fast, within minutes. You never would have known anything other than they needed to do a test and asked you to step out for a little bit,” he said.

“Well, thanks,” you said, rolling your eyes. He frowned and you shook your head. “Obviously it’s your choice but...if we’re gonna do this, you gotta-”

“What do you mean ‘if’, Y/N? I thought we were doing it,” he said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms in response.

“If we’re going to be a real couple, you need to share-” you said, Dean going back to his bed. “Or just walk away. Whatever.”

“Funny. I thought we were a real couple,” he said. “Maybe you’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

“Oh yeah?” you scoffed.

“Yeah. You feel sorry for me. Pity me. I don’t need your pity,” he said.

“I don’t need melodramatic immature boys,” you shot back as you turned away.

“Yeah, why don’t you run away. It’s your go to, isn’t it?” he said. You froze and cocked your head, looking over your shoulder with a glare.

“I think it’s a good idea if we spent some time apart,” you said.

“Please. I’ll be grateful for the alone time,” he said. You rolled your eyes. “You got some money now. Why don’t you see about getting your own place for a while. I don’t think we’re at the living together stage yet.”

“You say I’m the one that pities you,” you laughed. “That’s rich. Don’t worry. I won’t be there when you get back.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“You can go now,” he said.

“Yeah, I think I will,” you said. You quickly shoved your blanket in your backpack and headed down the hall, Dr. Ross raising an eyebrow. 

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Peachy.”

You closed your eyes as you stared at the roof of your car, trying to get comfortable in the backseat that night. Your phone rang and you picked it up from the floor, closing your eyes when you saw it was Dean.

“I see you survived. What do you want?” you breathed out.

“I want you to go home,” he said, his voice light and gentle.

“Don’t worry about me Dean.”

“I was moody and nervous for the treatment. I’m sorry. Go home. Sleep in bed. I’ll apologize in person tomorrow but please don’t sleep in your car. I’ll sick my buddies on you if I have to,” he said.

“I think I’m better off alone, Dean,” you said quietly. “You were right. I run away.”

“You’re scaring me. You’re supposed to be the one that gets scared, not me. Come on. Don’t mess up our thing now,” he said, trying to chuckle but you heard how forced it was. “Don’t run off on me, sweetheart.”

“I’m happy you’re feeling better,” you said, watching some rain come down and hit the windows. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for you, you know.”

You sighed but stayed quiet, Dean swallowing so loudly you could hear it over the phone.

“I’m sorry for being an ass,” he said.

“Me too. You’re under a lot of stress, Dean. It’s okay,” you said.

“Please promise me you’ll go home,” he said.

“I’m not going back to my parents,” you said.

“Not your parents. Home. The apartment. Your home,” he said.

“It’s your home. I was only crashing there. That’s all it was ever supposed to be,” you said, throwing an arm over your face.

“It’s our home. I let you walk away once, mostly because I knew I’d see you again and we could work it out. This time though...I don’t want this morning to be the last time I ever see you,” he said.

“Why? All I have is problems. You need someone that can focus on you,” you said.

“That thing your describing is called a medical professional and I got plenty of those around here. What I need is my best friend back. Nobody else visited me everyday. No else put up with me smelling like throw up and needing hugs and was there for me no matter what was going on in their life. No one else bought me a hat so I wouldn’t be embarrassed about having no hair because the truth is I am. I ask if you’re okay, you ask if I’m okay. It’s our thing, sweetheart. I want to keep doing our thing, Y/N, for as long as I can,” he said.

“You’re not gonna die, right?” you whispered.

“Well...someday. But from this? Odds are getting lower every day. Today was a win Rossy said. Besides, you owe me a bacon cheeseburger and slice of cherry pie if I recall,” he teased.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to wipe off your face. “Yeah.”

“You okay to drive home?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you sniffled as you sat up. “I’ll be okay.”

“Listen. My two friends, Cas and Benny, they’ve been out of state at a training course for our shop the past few months but I know they flew in tonight. I’m gonna give ‘em a call and send ‘em over to keep you company for me, okay?” 

“Dean, you don’t-”

“I get to take care of you too. I should have told you earlier about the treatment. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t pull anything like that again and it’s good, Winchester,” you said, using your shirt to dry your face.

“Take a shower for me when you get home. It’ll help you feel better,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“The treatment you got today...how long before you know it works?” you asked.

“Depends on how fast my blood counts come back but the fact I didn’t have a reaction is really good news. A week more and then I might finally get out of these damn woods for once,” he said. “I’m really looking forward to getting out of them. Until then though, take it easy?”

“Okay,” you said. “Okay.”

“Text me when you get home. I’ll have my boys over soon,” he said.

“Alright. I will.”

“Be safe.”

“You too, Dean.”

“Hey! Chickadee, you home yet?” you heard as you were getting dressed in Dean’s bedroom after your shower an hour later.

“Would you answer to that?” you heard another voice say.

“Don’t be pissy, Cassie,” said the first voice.

“You ate my snack!” said the second.

“It was fucking free airplane food. A bag of pretzels. Go raid Dean’s pantry if I deprived you so badly.”

“It’s the principle, Benjamin.”

“It’s the principle,” mocked the other one.

You stuck your head out of the hallway, raising an eyebrow at the two men in the living room.

“Benjamin?” you asked, the slightly larger one turning his head, both of them giving you a smile.

“Benny. Castiel. Deano said he was giving you a heads up,” he said.

“If you were her would you-”

“Go eat a snack. You’re cranky,” said Benny. Cas rolled his eyes but walked into Dean’s kitchen. You wrapped Dean’s flannel around yourself and stepped into the hall, Benny giving you a smile. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. 

“Dean said you were having a rough night.”

“...A lot going on right now,” you said. “He was worried is all. He overreacted. You guys just got home from months away. I’m sure you’d rather go to your own houses.”

Cas poked his head out of the kitchen, mouthful of pretzels and cocking his head.

“She must not know us very well,” he said after he’d chewed some.

“Dean asks us to do something, we do it,” said Benny. “Always been that way, always will be that way. So get used to our faces.”

“You got any dip?” asked Cas, grabbing another handful of food.

“I think there’s ranch in the fridge,” you said.

“It’s fine,” he said, carrying the bag into the living room, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. “Did he clean?”

“You think Deano cleaned?” laughed Benny as he sat down, glancing at you. “I think it was our new friend.”

“I’ve been staying here. It’s complicated,” you said, carefully walking out and sitting in the chair, both guys devouring the bag.

“Let’s order pizza,” said Cas, pulling out his phone.

“Wings. Oh, and fries too,” said Benny. “Oh and something with chocolate.”

You stared at them as they bickered for a moment over toppings, Cas ordering enough food to feed an army.

“Alright, it’ll be here in half an hour,” he said, stretching in his seat. “I’m gonna shower quick.”

“Remember there’s a lady in the house,” said Benny. “Pants, Cas.”

“How ever would I survive without you?” said Cas. “Y/N, I’ll keep the bathroom clean.”

“Really, it’s fine, Cas. Use whatever,” you said.

“So,” said Benny when Cas headed down the hall. “It sounds like you’ve been taking care of our boy while we were gone.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“Not the way he says it,” said Benny. “I ain’t talking about you giving him all those cells either.”

“Again, I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“Mhm,” he said. “You’re not much of a conversationalist, are ya.”

“I don’t know you and it’s ten thirty at night after a long day. I’m not particularly in the mood to talk,” you said.

“I see why Dean asked us to come over,” he said.

“Enjoy your food. Goodnight, Benny,” you said as you stood.

“You are just like him,” he said as you went past. “Dean.”

“No. I’m not. He’s normal and happy.”

“Yup, you two are just like one another I’m betting. You both got that put yourself down thing all the time going on,” he said.

“I’m not really in the mood for whatever this is so-“

“This is me saying thank you for taking care of one of my best friends while Cas and I were away. Dean doesn’t have many people left and what he’s going through, no one should do that alone,” he said.

“Like I said, I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“Alright. You gonna sit back down or what?” he asked. You settled back into your seat, Benny cocking his head. “It was the hair wasn’t it. Boy always gets ‘em with the hair.”

“Huh?”

“Dean’s hair. He’s lured in more than one woman with that mess on his head,” said Benny.

“Uh no. He was nice. He doesn’t even have hair right now, just some peach fuzz,” you said.

“It’ll come back,” said Benny, leaning back into his seat more. “You know he hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was diagnosed. Not been on a single date. Well he’s been on dates but only first ones. He stopped after that kept happening.”

“I imagine dating isn’t really on your mind when you find out news like that,” you said.

“He didn’t tell you, did he.”

“Tell me what?”

“Dean had been dating this girl for nearly a year when he found out. She dumped him the next day.”

“No. That’s horrible.”

“Dean said it was cool but we knew it wasn’t. He needed someone and he got left out on his own. We were always leery of the chick. Deano was settling for someone that put him down a lot. We were pretty surprised when he told us about his new girlfriend about a month back. He swore he’d never have one again,” said Benny.

“He never can seem to catch a break,” you said. Benny smiled and shook his head.

“I’d disagree. He’s got odds of living, he’s got someone that cares about him. He really likes you, Y/N. You gave him a bit of faith in humanity back. He was pretty low. Don’t call that nothing,” he said.

“I was pretty low too,” you said quietly, Benny nodding. “How long have you been friends with Dean?”

“First grade. I used to be a skinny little kid if you can believe it. I was new that year. No one in my class wanted to be my friend. Dean and Cas though at recess, they saw me and asked me to play since I was by myself. They were my best friends after that. Every single day after that we were together. We opened a garage together.”

“Really? I thought Dean just worked at one,” you said.

“Cas handles the more business side but us three are equal partners in it. We do pretty good too. We like it. Dean’s folks weren’t too thrilled,” said Benny.

“He said he never told them he got sick,” you said.

“He didn’t. None of us did. We wouldn’t break his trust like that,” said Benny.

“He needed someone to take care of him,” you said. 

“He’ll pull through. He always does. He was saying he’s got real good chances if he can get through the next few weeks,” he said.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, ducking your head down. You felt tears prickle your eyes. You didn’t even know why you were upset. For Dean. For you. For how his ex-girlfriend had treated him. You honestly didn’t know anything other than that you cared too much. You were going to screw something else up soon and he’d see you as being too clingy.

“Hey,” said Benny softly, suddenly kneeling down in front of your chair. “Can I hug you?”

You nodded and felt him wrap you up in a big bear hug, pulling you over to sit on the couch. He got up for a minute and returned with a box of tissues and a blanket. It was heavy, a weighted one and he tucked you into his side when he sat back down.

“Who’s been taking care of you?” he asked.

“What?” you asked, hiccuping slightly.

“Who takes care of you?” 

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Other people have it way worse,” you said, sniffling again. 

“Oh, you are so wrong, chickadee. Everybody needs somebody to take care of them sometimes. Dean’s not quite up to the job right now which is why he sent us. So you cry or vent or whatever you want to feel better, okay?” he asked. 

“I don’t…” you said, hearing Cas come out of the bathroom, pausing when you both looked back at him.

“Dean said you’d be a hard one to crack,” he said, walking around to the other side of the couch and sitting down. He threw an arm over your shoulders and smiled at you. “You should have seen how bad Benny cried when Dean told us the news. Trust us, there’s no such thing as being embarrassed around us.”

“I’m glad Dean has friends like you guys,” you said, blowing your nose while Benny ran a hand up and down your back.

“You want to talk about anything?” asked Cas. You shook your head and it was quiet for a moment.

“Well let’s stick on a movie. We got some good food coming soon,” said Benny. They didn’t say much aside from occasionally asking if you needed anything. 

You only had one slice of pizza but they polished off more of the food than you thought they would. By the time they were finished it was close to midnight and you were exhausted.

“I’m going to head to bed guys,” you said as you stood up.

“Alright. Try to get some sleep. We can go see Dean tomorrow,” said Cas. 

“Goodnight,” you said, walking down to the bedroom. You flopped down on the mattress, letting out a shaky breath. After a moment you got under the covers and rolled over, spotting a call pop up on your phone.

Dad

“What?” you snapped as you grabbed the phone. “It’s midnight. What the fuck do you want?”

“Mom and I are at the airport. We’re staying at the Hilton nearby. We need to talk tomorrow,” he said.

“I haven’t spoken to you in two years,” you said.

“We heard about this Liam guy,” he said. You swallowed, expecting another disappointed talk. “Your cousin divorced George. He cheated. More than once.”

“Good for her,” you said dryly.

“We’re sorry. We know you were telling the truth now. He even admitted it.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” you said. “Please don’t call again.”

_____

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[snarkwrites]

02 pt 2 | m i n e | tim speedle | csi miami

Notes:

I’m not even gonna lie... This chapter took several turns on me. Several. I wanted to post this a day ago, but something felt.. Incomplete. Amiss. Then it clicked as I wrote the smutty oneshot for these two so I banged this out. Any errors in grammar are mine and I own that shit. We fly blind in this house, no betas.

I hope you guys are all enjoying this so far!! It’s been a fun time to write. I think that’s largely due to the fact that it’s kind of..action-y, suspense and still fluff and romance eventually?

Summary:

You never forget the one that gets away. When Sylvie and Tim are thrown together again upon her arrival in Miami, will things finally work themselves out? Can Tim keep her out of danger?

Pairing:

Tim Speedle x OFC, Sylvie.

Warnings:

Stalker tw. Huge stalker tw. Because Sylvie has herself one. There may or may not also be other crime related topics raised here, such as injury/blood, etc.. I’ll try to warn as they come, loves. I’m going to try not to be too graphic so that people can still read this, but given the way this has surprised me thus far, I make absolutely no promises as to what the future holds.

Other Parts:

[ one - two part one - soundtrack ] 

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet​

Other Links:

[ faq & tag list doc ] 

                                              TWO PT TWO

The wind in my hair, the Florida sun beating down on me and Billy Idol on the radio full blast. I almost felt relaxed as I drove aimlessly along the Keys. I could almost forget for a few moments that I was currently being stalked by some unknown asshole who liked to write me ten page letters detailing his disturbingly vivid fantasies about me. Bragging about what he’d do when he finally managed to get me all alone.

I was coming back from an open air flea market, the spoils of my trip flung carelessly into the backseat. In my cupholder, my cell phone started going berserk. When I saw that it was Rex calling me, probably pissed because I’d stood up a gig he spent two weeks booking after I explicitly told him I wasn’t taking said gig in as many different but firm ways possible, I let it go to voicemail.

The gas needle was getting lower and bearing the thought in mind, I pulled into a little gas station, parking the red Porsche at the pump and reaching down, grabbing my clutch. Taking my card out to swipe at the pump.

I felt eyes on me and almost immediately, I tensed. My eyes darted around and they settled on a man two pumps over. Gaping at me.

I managed a tight smile, a little nod. Because I didn’t want to seem rude, but the way he was staring at me had me immediately getting paranoid all over again. And just like that, my earlier good mood was rapidly vanishing. I sighed and reached for the unleaded pump, inserting the nozzle into the Porsche’s fuel tank opening. Swiping my card and waiting. Tapping my foot because the clerk inside the station wasn’t even paying attention and the man two pumps over was now leaned against his silver BMW, arms folded over his chest, watching me like a hawk.

I realized that I wasn’t going to get away from the situation any faster unless I made my way inside to let the clerk know I needed the pump turned on, so I grabbed my cropped jacket and slipped the hood over my head and pocketed my keys after raising the convertible top on the Porsche, ducking my head as I quickly walked right past the staring man and disappeared inside the station.

“I need you to turn on pump 3.”

“Yeah, let me do that. I’m so sorry. Do you know that guy?” the clerk nodded towards the man who’d been staring at me. I shook my head. “Never seen him before in my life.”

,, he kind of resembles Rex. It’s unsettling.”  the thought came but I shoved it out. The little I knew about Rex, he didn’t have any family. The man was far too selfish for that.

“He’s lurking around your car. You might want to stay in here.” the woman said it in a concerned tone that caught me by surprise.

I swallowed hard, taking a few deep breaths. I could feel the panic starting to build just a little more. I tried to convince myself that maybe the man was just someone who had seen one of my ads or something. Trying to make myself ignore the weird vacant look in baby blue eyes as they roamed over my body, like he was enjoying his view. Way too much. It was almost lewd.

My eyes settled on my Porsche and I gulped when I saw him walking around it, kind of trying to covertly peer in. I took a few deep breaths. Maybe he was just a fan. Maybe Rex was right, maybe I really am paranoid. ,, with every good reason to be, hello, ten page explicit letters? Last month in Paris when the stalker writing said letters actually tried to grab me?” 

The woman behind the counter gave me a sympathetic smile and shook her head. “I’ll go wrangle up my husband Clay. He’s real big, looks mean as hell. Maybe we can get this man outta here and you back on the road, okay, dear?”

I nodded, thanking her. Grateful.

She disappeared to the little garage attached to the back of the station and minutes later, a very tall and menacing looking man wearing a local MC’s cutte stepped out. “We’ll have him outta your hair in no time, hon. You just wait right here with the little missus and don’t worry, alright?”

I nodded, again, grateful.

“ The world’s gone insane these days, I swear.” the clerk spoke up after a few seconds. I don’t know what her husband said to the man with the staring problem, but a few seconds later, all I could see of that silver BMW was it’s tail lights as it made a hasty retreat, going the opposite way that I had to go to leave and that knowledge only relaxed me.

After thanking them both again, I hurried out of the station and got into my car, just thankful to be getting back on the road again. My cell phone showed 3 missed calls. All from Rex. None of which I had any interest at all in taking.

Almost the instant my hotel came into view I relaxed. But only slightly.

Rex was pacing the parking lot, glaring at me when I parked the Porsche and killed the engine.

“Where the entire fuck were you, dollface? I told you specifically, the meeting to discuss the gig I got ya was 8 am sharp.”

“And I told you I wasn’t taking it.”

I side-stepped him and after grabbing my bags from the backseat, I made my way into the hotel and up to my room. Dumping off all my stuff. Digging through one of the shopping bags until I found the red bikini I’d gotten on a whim.

Once I had that on and I’d found a pair of cut offs and a cropped shirt to go over it, I grabbed my phone and the book I’ve been reading and I made my way out the back of the hotel. Wandered down the street until the smells from a local diner wafted to my nose, lingering on the air and reminding me exactly how long it had been since I truly indulged myself.

I wandered in and up to the counter.

And when I heard his laugh from somewhere closer to the back, I found my gaze wandering around the diner.

Settling on Tim.

His back was turned to me. But even without looking at him, I knew it was him. It had to be. I haven’t forgotten the sound of his laugh.

I froze for enough time that the cashier cleared their throat. “Did you know what you wanted to order?”

“I think I’ll actually go grab a booth. If that’s okay?”

The cashier nodded and grabbed a menu for me and I turned, scoping out the diner.

The booth right behind Tim was empty. Did I dare sit there?

My heart was pounding, about to beat right out of my chest. Just like this morning at the gas station, but different.

Excited.

Hopeful, even though I knew in my bones I had no cause to be. Too much time had passed.

Steeling myself, I slunk right past the table Tim and two other men were sitting at, sitting down at the booth of the empty table directly behind his.

I buried my eyes in the menu, pretending to be engrossed. Ordering a soda when one of the servers came around. Then on a whim, ordering the double cheeseburger and a large plate of fries.

And I gazed out the window.. Heart still pounding. Trying to figure out whether or not to say anything. Did I have the right to?

XXX

Almost as soon as the blonde wandered in off the streets, Eric spotted her and nearly choked on his soda. Knowing how the fact that she was in town and it was eating Speed alive was probably the only reason he took it easy on the guy, choosing not to point her out. But his staring so intently at the front of the diner drew Tim and Walter’s attention, and naturally, Tim turned around.

He went quiet, words trailing off mid-sentence.

Eric cleared his throat. “There she is, man.”

“I fucking saw her, Delko, I’m not blind.” Tim muttered, taking a deep breath. It felt like the wind got knocked right out of him. Like slamming into a wall full speed. Everything around him just froze and all he could do was watch her. When she glanced their direction, he looked away quickly. Pretending to laugh, to be caught up in conversation.

Painfully aware of her presence, he gripped the edge of the tabletop. Walter cleared his throat as Sylvie started to make her way right towards them.

“She’s walking towards that table behind us.”

“If you don’t say something, Speed, I swear to God.” Eric muttered. Tim shook his head.

He didn’t even know where to start, for one thing.

She’d settled in the seat right in his line of vision. She was literally almost close enough to touch if he were to stand up and walk over, sit down on the bench opposite the one she currently sat on. But Tim was frozen.

“Ryan was saying that stalker’s still an issue earlier.”

Eric mentioning it had Tim’s eyes darting around the diner. Just wanting to be sure she was okay and that no one followed her in.

Tim took a deep breath.

“One of you has to say somethin, man. This is stupid. Tell him, Walter.”

“Eric makes a good point.” Walter muttered, gazing at Tim. But Tim was totally dazed. Watching her as covertly as possible.

And then, he thought back on the last time he’d seen her.

The day he left New York to take the job here.

“You know what, Delko? You’re absolutely right… But fuck if I know where to even begin.”

“You walk over, sit down and say hi. Pretend like you’re not sure it’s her if it helps, buddy.” Eric shrugged as he dispensed the advice. “Otherwise, Walter and I are gonna shove you into the booth when we all get up to go.”

Tim took a deep breath and stood. Making his way over to her table.

Right past her. Towards the bathroom.

Eric grumbled and shook his head. Walter chuckled, amused by the whole thing.

As Tim came into sight again, Eric watched intently. He’d moved to Tim’s vacant spot, finishing off as many fries as he could, chuckling to himself, shit eating grin on his face as he nodded to the table Sylvie happened to be sitting at.

Tim glared at him.

But he kept walking.

Right as he went to walk past her booth, Eric saw her hand shoot out. Wrap carefully around Tim’s wrist. Effectively freezing Tim in place.

“I didn’t see that comin.”

“Neither did I, man.” Walter mused, taking the final sip of his milkshake as he and Eric shared a look and both got up, leaving Tim behind.

XXX

I’d seen him walk past. For a few seconds, my heart raced. I pouted to myself as he kept going… Not even a glance my way. Disappearing into the bathroom.

I’d pretty much resigned myself to him not noticing me, but then I saw him walk out of the bathroom and knowing he was close enough to touch was too much for me. I snapped. I reached out, tentatively grabbing his wrist.

“Tim?”

“Sylvie?” he raised his other hand and dragged his fingers through his hair. I managed a smile, took a sip of my soda. “You can sit. I mean if you want to..” I trailed off, going quiet.

Heart still a little fluttery.

Not sure at all what I was going to do now that I’d gotten his attention.

,, it’s been years. Ease back into this. There’s a lot of old stuff there, things that didn’t get said. Hurt.” the thought lingered heavily in my mind.

I honestly didn’t think he’d sit down, but he did. My food came and the waitress put it all out on the table in front of me. I inhaled the greasy deliciousness and smiled a little, thanking her as she walked away, my drink in hand to refill it.

Tim eyed my order.

“You realize that’s 3 pieces of meat.. And a ton of grease.”

“Mhm. And I’m about to practically inhale every single bite, okay?”

Tim chuckled, smiling. Muttering something to himself about some things never changing.

“When did you get to Miami? I didn’t even know you were in town.”

“Last week, I think. It was supposed to be my vacation. My manager didn’t get the memo so I’m hiding from the asshole right now.” I frowned, shrugging. Reaching out to grab a few french fries. I pushed the plate closer to him.

“Is this where you get lunch every day?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Tim shrugged. “The view of the beach is kinda calming. Plus, the cook’s a good friend of Eric’s.”

My eyes wandered out, gazing at the beachfront view in question.

“It’s been a long time.” I muttered, gazing at him. He nodded. Mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something and then he just didn’t.

“Too long.” I continued, taking a huge bite of my burger almost immediately after having said it.

I was dying to tell him I missed him. That I still loved him, that at least twice a week I found myself either re reading our old texts or dialing his number only to hang up just before hitting the call button.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“It has been too long.” Tim admitted, snagging himself a few more fries. “How long are you in town?”

“I’m actually going to talk to an agent about a beach house tomorrow? It’s just… So much more relaxed here. Plus there’s a school hiring…”

Tim eyed me.

“Thought you were happy with that whole modeling thing?”

I shook my head. “Honestly?”

“I’d prefer it.” Tim answered as soon as I asked.

I took another sip of my Pepsi and answered quietly, “I’ve been miserable for a while now, actually.”

His next question had me nearly choking on the sip I’d taken. “The stalker situation, right?”

I gazed at him and he explained with a shrug, “It was all over the news. Not to mention our moms are always on the phone callin each other.”

“And then us.” I gave a soft laugh. Taking a deep breath, I nodded yes to answer what he’d asked about my situation. “It started before that though. I never actually wanted to get involved with this but then I started and the money…” I trailed off.

“Yeah. I mean I don’t blame ya.” Tim shrugged, going quiet.

The tension settled in all around us. Thick to the point I felt like you could cut the way it lingered with a knife.

“I hate to but I gotta get back to the lab…” Tim spoke up after a few minutes of us just sort of sitting there… staring at each other, deep in thought. He stood and I asked quietly, “Would it be okay if I called you later? Is your number still the same?”

“I’d like that. Yeah.. you know me. Predictable. My number’s still the same.” he gave me that smile and I felt myself smiling back, nodding. 

“Maybe you can show me around sometime…” I trailed off because there I went.. Rushing in all over again. I took a deep breath, making myself meet his gaze. Fully prepared to laugh it off and say that he didn’t have to.

Tim chuckled, nodding. “I was about to say that. I see you’re still a mind reader, baby girl.”

“Just yours, Speed.” I wanted to kick myself because the words left my mouth just a shade too flirty.

And I knew it was much too soon for that.

XXX

“Now who in the hell is he?” the man stood outside the diner, leaned against one of the streetlamps. Watching Sylvie intently through the window as she talked to some guy inside the diner.

When the guy sat down at her booth, his blood began to boil. His hands clenched to fists at his sides and he gave an angry laugh, shaking his head.

“Now this just won’t do. Not at all. Nothin’s comin between me and her. Nothin.”

[ladyyatexel]

I went out to get my mail yesterday evening and I caught the neighbor waxing his car. He's really chatty so I often avoid going outside when he's out there because he will keep me there for like 45 minutes and I will always not understand like 25% of what he says.

But this time his elusive wife emerged. I think she is higher on the Cryptid scale than I am, because I've lived here like for fucking years and I've never seen her until yesterday.

Which makes her reaction all the more incredible to me, she said, " do you need anything?"

And I legitimately blanked like my brain just did a blue screen and I stared at her.

And she said, " you know, toilet paper or something. We just had hamburgers do you want one?"

And I said "holy shit I would love a hamburger" with absolutely no hesitation

She went back into the house and disappeared and I kept talking to her husband for a while and just when I thought she had gone in and was never coming back she came out with like three plates of food covered in aluminum foil and said "I washed my hands right before I came out here and I didn't touch the door I also gave you some potato salad and some fruit and a couple other things just in case"

I was so overwhelmed but how incredibly kind it was especially for how little they see me and that I don't remember his name and have never seen her in person before.

I also walked back up to my apartment when we were done talking and realized I was standing there with a t-shirt that read PORTLAND FUCKING OREGON in full view while they told me how much we all need to be there for each other and then absolutely did that

So that was super cool and now I'm going to eat a cheeseburger

I don't think I've ever had a neighbor be nice to me before

[denouemwnt]

hope

you can also read it in AO3!

pairing: bruce wayne x batmom x batfam

warnings: swearing.

summary: Since your accident with the Joker, the doctors always told you and Bruce that it was impossible for you to have a biological child, you get pregnant, and the whole Bat Family is crazy with the news. But after you and your baby getting kidnapped, will they get to save you from the criminals hands?

request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write one where Batmom is pregnant and she gets kidnapped/injured (but the baby is okay) and batfam goes crazy trying to find her? With a fluffy ending

words: 2016

A/N: I. AM. BACK. I just want to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone that has supported my stories even when I disappeared from here. I really hope I get to write more so I can be more active here. ❤

(you can see my masterlist here!)

________________________________________________________________

Excited laughs echoed through the house, making you curious to know what was happening, but your stomach made a strange noise, insisting for you to continue eating the last piece of chocolate cake Alfred baked. Jason was sitting beside you, reading one of the books you just gave him. It was very uncommon to him to be reading in peace lately, but you were happy he managed to do it after giving to him one of your favorite books of when you were his age. Maybe he just needed a reminder of the things he loved doing.

You got really focused on eating the cake. It was so delicious that you couldn’t resist it, and so the baby slightly kicking your belly. Neither of you could. It was kind of hard sometimes, feeling that much enthusiasm inside you that the baby seemed to have. She was always moving and kicking, so there were a lot of jokes about that it wouldn’t take long for her to be the new Robin, always seeming to have a serious fight inside your belly.

All the talk about Robin and stuff made you insecure again because of that accident a long time ago, the one the doctors said it made impossible for you to have a baby, biologically. But that didn’t stop you from having a great number of amazing kids who gave you so much happiness. You wouldn’t be the same without them. They were as shocked as you when the pregnancy test was positive, you made it three times just to be sure. It was an impossible thing to happen, there wasn’t any chance of it, that was what the doctors said to you and Bruce after you lost your baby.

She was a miracle. A very happy and unexpected one, but she was bringing joy to all the Wayne family since the day you discovered you were pregnant, already charming everyone around her. It changed everything. Aside from the turbulence and nervousness of carrying her inside you for the first time and some people freaking out sometimes with the idea of having a baby in the house in just a few weeks, everything was going well. 

Your name was being called from the living room from three very happy kids, holding a lot of plastic bags with the Walmart name printed on it. “Over here in the kitchen!”, you answered, very curious to know what they bought. You had no idea what they were about to do.

Dick, Stephanie, and Duke placed the bags on the kitchen table right after you finished eating your cake. “What have you guys been up to?” You smile at them, happy to see them together. “We bought the baby some awesome gifts!” Steph gave you a warm smile. “Superhero gifts”, Duke continued. The three of them started pulling out the clothes from the bags, spreading them on the table so you could see. “With Bruce’s money,” Dick murmured and you laughed.

“As much I would love to see this, I’ve gotta go.” Jason closed his book and got up from the chair, whispering a quiet but sweet bye to you and leaving the room.

A head popped up from nothing, observing what was happening after fully appearing on the kitchen, like a normal person. “So after 3 hours, you came back.” They stared at each other for a moment before Duke answers, “We argued a little bit about the clothes.” You asked them to show you what they bought and you could see that they had something else in mind, other than just showing the clothes. And when you saw it, you realize what they were doing. Bruce did too, immediately.

Wonder Woman. Superman. Green Lantern. The Flash. Shazam. Aquaman. All the cute superhero clothes for your daughter to wear, but there was someone missing and they couldn’t hide that it was on purpose.

“Are you guys kidding me? I gave you 500 dollars and there’s not even one Batman thing?” All the eyes turned to you with the loud laugh that left your throat. Bruce was really mad at them for not buying anything Batman related, giving them a lesson that the bat was a true hero.

“Well, Bruce, we are very sorry to crush your dreams but… they don’t even sell this bat guy’s clothes there. Who is he the compared to Superman?” Stephanie tried not to laugh. You looked at your husband, he was angry, but you could see that playful glance on his eyes, ready to show them that Batman was a hero indeed.

And it got serious. Bruce gave you a quick kiss and left the room determined to buy all the Batman things to his daughter. 

_____

Everything was dark when you woke up, feeling lost, wondering where you were. The room was also cold, the chair you were sitting on was very uncomfortable. You had no idea what was happening, what was this place and how you got there. Tears were trying to fall to your cheeks, but you wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t. However, just the feeling of this situation remembers you the time when you lost your first child and you just wanted so badly to touch your belly and feel your baby, who was more agitated than ever. 

The last thing your memory allows you to remember is quickly heading to the nearest fast food place with Damian - who insisted to go with you - to buy the biggest cheeseburger you could get or that would affect the baby. You craved that burger for hours, you couldn’t wait anymore for Bruce to get back from the shop to see all the Batman things he got to your daughter.

You got off the sight of your son. Just one minute and they got you. 

“It is my fault, Father. I shouldn’t have lost her for just a minute.” Suddenly, everyone froze with the reaction of Damian. His hands went to his face, covering the tear that fell to his cheek. “Oh. My. God.” Jason whispered and then continued, “This shit is real serious. We are all going to die.” 

The door opened and your heart almost jumped from your chest. You could tell what all of this was about, but couldn’t they do it some months before or after you had your baby? It would be so much faster to end with it.

“I don’t really need to explain myself, do I? You must be used to it by now.” The man in a mask calmly said. “I honestly don’t give a damn about you, we just get the money and you get back to your family, ok? Simple as that.” You just nodded, seeing how impatient he was. “A few thousand will impact The Wayne like cents.” He continued.

And you were alone again. You and your baby, waiting for your family to show up. Oh, you would love to get out of this chair and kick their asses, but you couldn’t risk her life like that, as much you would love to. You just needed to stay awake and alert. That was it. You needed to-

Bruce felt a single drop of sweat fall from his face. He just sent the money to the group who kidnapped you and there wasn’t any answer from them by now, making him more nervous them before, wondering if you and the baby were fine. He thought it was simple, but then he realized it wasn’t like he thought it would be. They must have planned something else. 

“Something is wrong.” Tim murmured to himself behind his father, trying to find you in the bat-computer. Bruce turned to face the screen, asking him what did he found out. “Mom is not where we thought she was.“

After a few more moments trying to find you, Barbara couldn’t keep to herself what she thought about the situation.

“I think this is not a common kidnapping like someone would do to get money from Bruce Wayne. Maybe, they want something else, maybe her.” Barbara didn’t want to say that, because it would be closer to the truth, but she knew it was a possible option to happen. Bruce stayed quiet for a few minutes, staring at the map of Gotham on the computer, trying to think of where you were.

“Bruce, where are you going?” Dick goes after him. “Batman can’t go there, people will know”.

“I don’t fucking care!” For a moment Bruce shows his fear, but soon hides it behind a plain expression. “I’m going to save them.” He puts on his mask. “Cass, Duke, Jason. You’re coming with me. The rest of you stay here unless I say something. Understand?”

All of them nodded.

_____

You woke up with the sound of someone breaking the door of the room you were imprisoned in. 

“Hey, mom,” Jason whispered. “Oh shit, why are you crying? Did they hurt you?” He kneeled in front of you with his eyes wide. 

“No, no, we are okay. It’s the hormones talking, darling.” You smiled, assuring that you were fine. “Now, please, take us out of here. I didn’t finish my cheeseburger.”

“Yeah, about that... We have to wait until Cass gives me the sign to get out.”

“She is the best of you. I’m sure it will be quick.” You laughed at his face.

“Well then, if you like her so much then I think she can take you out of this room.” He mentioned to leave you there alone.

“Come on Jay, don’t leave your mother like that. Now take me out of these ropes.”

Cass gave Jason the sign to take you to the Batwing, but when you were living the room a guy appeared in front of you. You ran to the opposite side of the room so Jason started fighting him, soon joined by Bruce and Cass. In the middle of the fight, two more guys showed up.

“Tim, you said that the building was clean!” Duke screamed and ran to you. ��Are you alright?”

“Oh, shit.” You stared at the liquid on the floor. “If you guys don’t beat the shit outta them I’m going to have my baby at this fucking floor!” You screamed in pain. “Go end this fight, Duke”

The pain was consuming you. The baby was supposed to be born in a few weeks. Not. Now. Not while her father and her siblings were fighting the guys who kidnapped her mother.

Bruce quickly saw your condition and the last man fell on the floor.

“Let’s go, Y/N. Everything is going to be okay.” He kissed your temple and carried you to the jet.

You husband was beside you, already dressed as Bruce Wayne, taking care of you until the car got you to the hospital. Cass, Jason, and Duke were getting the plane in a safe place.

Bruce got his phone to warn the rest of the family. “Alfred, tell-”

“We are on our way, Master Wayne.”

_____

You and your husband couldn’t stop smiling at her, such a beautiful baby. Every single one of the family couldn’t wait to hold her, but she needed to be checked by the doctors soon. Only you and Bruce were the ones who got to have her in your arms, admiring how much happiness she brought after that awful moment.

“So, thoughts on our last discussion about names?” He places your daughter carefully on your arms.

Until that moment, you and your husband had an idea of her first name, but you hadn’t decided yet the baby’s middle name. With your daughter in your arms and Bruce beside you with a bright smile on his face, you suggested: “What do you think of Hope?”. He stared at his baby for a minute. It was perfect. He was just the happiest man at that moment, with the family he never thought he could have. Bruce sighed, one arm around you while caressing his daughter’s tiny hand. 

“Welcome to this world, D/N Hope Wayne. You’ve got a mini Batmobile waiting for you at home.”

________________________________________________________________

You can go to my masterlist to read more of my batmom series and my other batfam stories!

Feedback is always welcome ❤️

[the-rad-pineapple]

wrote a supernatural short story based on @plots-and-prompts prompt: “It was at that moment, with a gun pointed to my face, seconds away before they pulled the trigger that I realized everything that had been leading up to this moment...really sucked.” (I wrote this in like August and finally published it today)

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links for easy reading

fanfiction

ao3

wattpad

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It was at that moment, with a gun pointed to my face, seconds away before the cops pulled the trigger that I realized everything that had been leading up to this moment...really sucked.

It started as soon as I woke up. Sam was awake at 5:30 in the fucking morning. I know he was trying to be quiet, he was just taking a shower, but it still kept me awake. No matter how hard I tried to fall back asleep, I just couldn’t. So I just laid there angrily. It only got worse.

The diner we ate breakfast at got my order wrong, so I got some sort of stupid fruit salad. Wasn’t even worth eating. Sam insisted on bringing leftovers, so now that’s in the motel refrigerator. Sam was being annoying, so we argued. I told him he could research on his laptop while I went to the library.

Of course out of all the days I go to the library there’s some bullshit “History Appreciation Day,” and no Internet was allowed. So, that was a complete bust. I went back to the diner, because I was starving for some real food. I thought I was finally getting somewhere when the hot waitress suggested we go somewhere, my food be damned.

We went back to her place. It was pretty shady, but I’d been to worse. Turns out, it was her husband’s place. Should’ve looked more carefully for a ring. Gotta be better about that. Well, he came busting in. He was in such a rush he didn’t see me at first. He was shouting at his wife “to start hiding it because the cops were coming.” Only when she started grabbing something on the table I realized they had fucking cocaine in the house. I really needed to be more careful around beautiful women, or use more of my “upstairs brain” as Sam would say.

The cops burst through the door, clearly in the pursuit of this chick’s husband. He started yelling, and she clung to him, and now there’s a gun pointed at my head.

“Everyone, on the ground!!” one of the cops yelled.

I obeyed.

“Please! It’s just a misunderstanding!” the husband pleaded. His wife stifled a sob as she tightly held onto his arm. I can’t believe I was about to—

“I said, get down!” One of the cops wrenched the wife from her husband. They were both handcuffed. I was roughly grabbed from the ground and bound in handcuffs. They took us out of the house and led us to the cop cars. They separated the couple, and headed me towards the car with the husband.

I resisted. “I don’t think we should be together.”

“That’s not your decision to make now, is it?” the guy handling me retorted. He guided me inside the car next to the husband. Two cops got in the car in front of us.

“Were you about to fuck my wife?” He stared unwaveringly at me.

I glanced up to the cops. They seemed mildly interested and started the car. Great, no help there.

“Look, uh, I didn’t know she was married.” I tried not to make eye-contact for too long.

“She has a ring on! Are you stupid?”

I glared at him.

“Keep it down, you two,” the cop in the passenger seat commanded.

Thankfully, the husband didn’t say anything to me for the rest of the ride to the station, but I could feel him glaring at me the whole time. At the station, I called Sam as soon as I could. He seemed more annoyed than concerned at the whole situation. But this was going to be tougher to get out of than normal. I was in the same room as the cocaine.

I was finally alone after they brought me to the interrogation room. I eyed the double-sided mirror. Who knew who was watching? I felt a gust of air next to me.

“Cas?”

“Hello, Dean.” He touched my shoulder and flew us back to the motel. I gripped his arm for support at the jarring landing. Gets me every damn time. Sam was seated in his bed. His eyes lit with amusement, and a small smirk played across his lips.

“What?” I asked. I did not have the patience for any of this. This day sucked. I had just spent almost five hours in jail, I didn’t get laid, and I hadn’t eaten all day.

Sam smiled. “This is a mess, even for you.”

“Thanks, Sam. Really appreciate it.”

“You need to be more careful, Dean,” Cas added.

“Yeah, thanks, Mom.” I stepped away from him. He frowned in confusion. “Can we just get this job over with? I hate it here.”

“Really? I actually kinda like it,” Sam teased.

I glared. “I’m going to take a shower.” That should help.

“The hot water doesn’t work,” Sam informed, “just by the way.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Could this day get any worse?” I stormed into the bathroom before I could get a response. The shower was cold. It didn’t help at all. It made my back tighten. I hated everything. I stepped out of the bathroom. “Can we get some food, I’m starving?”

“We have leftovers,” Sam replied absently from the bed. Cas watched us from near the door.

I opened the refrigerator. It was the fucking fruit salad. I slammed the door closed. “I’m going to get some real food.” I opened the motel door. Cas followed. I sighed. I really didn’t have the patience for him right now, but I was too hungry to say anything. We both got into the Impala as we drove around town.

“You seem more upset than you should be,” Cas noted. “I got you out of jail and back to Sam.”

“I’m just having a bad day, okay? Can you shut up until I get food?” That came out harsh. Way harsher than I intended. I glanced at Cas. He was staring out the window. “Sorry, that was...I didn’t mean to sound like that. I just need food.” I glanced at him again. Nothing. “Thanks for getting me earlier.”

“You’re welcome.”

Yeah, he was still a little upset. Whatever. I just need food, and this will all be ok. I pulled up to a fast food joint. I started to get out.

“Dean!”

“What?” I turned to him.

“There are police here.” Cas nodded to a cop car outside the building.

“Dammit!” I slammed the top of the steering wheel.

“I will get you something,” he promised before leaving the car.

It wasn’t until he went inside that I realized I didn’t tell him what I wanted. I put my hands in my face. He probably doesn’t even know what anything on the menu is. He returned a few minutes later with a take-out bag and a drink.

“We should hurry,” he warned. “I think the police were almost finished with their meal.”

I nodded then pulled out of the parking lot. My stomach growled, and, damn, the food smelled great.

“What did you get?” I asked cautiously. It smelled good, but I was so hungry I could eat anything.

“What you always get,” he answered. “A bacon cheeseburger with fries and a Coca Cola.”

“...you remembered that?”

“It’s not hard since you order it every time.”

“Uh, well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

We finally reached the motel. The food was amazing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam looking at me with disapproval at how fast I ate. It was great. Cas sat across from me staring boredly out the window.

“Hey, Cas.”

He looked at me.

“I really meant it when I said thanks earlier.”

“I know. You get moody when you’re hungry. I’m not upset, Dean.”

“I don’t get moody.”

“Yeah, you do,” Sam answered.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I replied.

“Yes, you do,” Cas reaffirmed.

“No, I don’t,” I muttered as I took another bite. Whatever. The food was good, and I was finally happy again.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Three

Table of Content or Part Forty-Two

Read here on wattpad

Words: 3.6k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse, Verbal abuse, Sexual situations

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My head is aching from the pressure put on it after crying for hours on end, balls of tissue shrouding the bed around me.

My mind floods with how I'm going to propose attempting to do one of the two things Nikki despises most, not wanting to ask him about it from the jump, but wanting to fix whatever it is that's lacking in our marriage that has me feeling something for someone who I'm not married to.

I know what's lacking, but I'd rather he  hear it from a professional so he can't accuse me of just throwing out bullshit.

Nikki's been home for a few hours now, but he's been avoiding me.

I wonder if he's mad at me for leaving during the tour, or if he hasn't even thought about me and came home, shot up and passed out.

I'm sick with myself, the approach of Nikki's homecoming causing an onslaught of self-chastisement that occurs in the form of random tidbits of Duff and I in my dream, and the possibility that I'm subconsciously getting ready to give up on my marriage, which is the last thing I want to do.

I hear the front door open and shut, along with the sound of Nikki's footsteps growing closer and closer to our bedroom, the rustling of paper bags accompanying him.

I haven't even realized he left the house.

Nerves ball up in my stomach, my hands get sweaty and my breathing starts getting deep.

"Keep your head clear" I hear Andy's voice in my mind and I calm myself down.

The door opens, and the smell of food wafts in the air.

Nikki's carrying fastfood bags, seemingly decently sober.

I sit up, sniffling, and he hands me my drink and a straw before pulling a cheeseburger out of the paper bag, handing it over to me as well as my fries.

"Do you feel any better?" He asks me, calmly, and I furrow my brows a little. "I knew something was up when you weren't waiting by the door. I came in and you were passed out." He explains, his hand pressing to my forehead. "You don't feel like you're running fever."

"I'm not. I just feel like shit." I mumble, taking a sip of my Pepsi.

"I got this while I was out." He adds, opening another paper bag from our pharmacy and I rub my lips together. "The bottle was on the bathroom counter and saw you haven't gotten a refill yet, so..." He shrugs, handing me a pill of my Nardil.

"Thanks." I say, swallowing it down.

He gets his food and knocks my balled up tissues out of the way as he gets into bed next to me.

"What all did you do?" He asks and I look at him, tensing up.

"What?"

"While you've been here? And I've been gone? What all have you done?" He repeats.

"Oh, just went out a few times with the guys. I stayed at home, mostly." I reply.

"I can tell. This place is spotless." He chuckles, eating a few fries.

"Sharise and Skylar stayed with me at night so I wouldn't be by myself." I add and he shakes his head a little.

"We gotta get you outta that, babe." He states and I raise my brows a little in confusion. "Your 'I can't be alone' mentality."

"What about it?"

"It's not really healthy to be that way, don't you think?"

"I think it's normal. Humans weren't made to be by themselves."

"Viv, not being able to be alone is one thing. Not being able to sleep alone is another." He scoffs.

"Vince doesn't ever sleep alone." I point out.

"That's because Vince fucks and then falls asleep with chicks who aren't his wife." Nikki points out.

"Well, I've fallen asleep with dudes who aren't you." I add.

"Robbin, Steven and Vince don't really count." He tells me. "Well, Vince counts a little, but that's because he's a fucking dick."

"Okay, so, who all counts?" I ask him, trying to keep the light tone in my voice.

His answer is blatantly but casually said as if it's common sense, and further causes me to curl into my shell, even more petrified to suggest what I've been planning to suggest to him:

"Anyone you can see yourself fucking." He says.

My body tenses and my appetite is at a loss.

I don't say much of anything else, listening to him go from the topic of the new album, to Tommy's upcoming wedding, and finally, his fuck up.

"Look, Viv," He starts, throwing the wrapper of his finished burger, aside, and I start putting the trash in the empty bags the food came in before setting them on the night stand on my side of the bed before laying back down, facing him. "I know what I did was--"

"--You made a mistake." I cut him short. "And you're still here, so...it's okay."

"No, it's not okay." He argues and I rub my lips together.

"I don't know what else to say about it, Nikki." I reply and he sighs, getting a little frustrated.

"I want you to care, Vivian." He shoots back and I roll on my back, staring up at my reflection on the ceiling, rubbing my forehead to calm the subtle aching beginning to resurface.

"I do care, Nikki, I just don't understand what you want me to do about it. You're the only one who can fix it and you freak out anytime someone mentions you getting help."

"Jesus fuck." He grumbles, kicking his cowboy boot-clad foot into the mattress a little and I sigh out, agitated, as he's about to get up and probably leave.

"Can you just not run off at the slightest argument we have, for once, Nikki?" I beg, my voice cracking as my throat grows thick with tears. "I've had a horrible past couple weeks and I just need you to hold me because you're my husband and that's..." I can't finish, a wave of obnoxious sobs coming out of nowhere.

"Vivian, what is wrong? Huh?" He asks me, genuinely, scooting closer to me and wrapping his arms around me as I lay against his chest.

It's obvious this goes beyond "I don't feel good."

People don't cry uncontrollably when they have a cold.

"I'm just going through something right now." I reply in between uneven breaths.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

I wish I could tell him everything. Every miscarriage, every repressed fear of our future...having mental sex with Duff.

I know the Duff situation shouldn't be a big deal to me, but it is. A very big deal. A very red flag. A very tiny issue that cam and will manifest if not dealt with accordingly.

Dread of the conversation of seeing a marriage counselor with Nikki sneaks into me, adding to my plate of shit I have yet to disclose to him.

"I don't know." I lie to him. "I guess I just really miss you."

"I'm right here, Viv." He chuckles a little.

I want to say, "the old Nikki", but decide against an entirely different argument, before relaxing a little as he runs his fingertips in random patterns at the bottom of my back, and falling asleep.

The thing that pissed Nikki off about my crying spells, which occurred more often the worse his use got, was that he felt emasculated by it.

He couldn't make me feel better because he couldn't get off drugs, and I couldn't even tell him about the weight on my heart from my misfortune with pregnancy and my growing confusion about my feelings for another man.

He knew he was failing me by having an affair, staying on drugs, disregarding our vows, causing me pain, which made him do more drugs to numb the pain of that knowledge, which made him act out even more.

And all I could do was scream at him, cry, flush his stash, vandalize our house, vandalize his cars and bikes, and screw the support's bassist.

But before we resulted to that...

I let out one more muffled moan as he grabs at a fist full of my hair, delivering one more thrust into me before he's finishing on my bare ass and tucking himself back in his pants.

"Nikki, I thought you said we would talk when you got back home." I lowly remind him as I clean myself off, hearing our friends in our living room.

He takes a drink of his Jack on the  bathroom counter and shrugs.

"We can talk later, babe." He tells me, for the hundredth time since he's been back home two weeks, now, and I rub my lips together.

"Well, Nikki, we kinda need to talk about as soon as we can." I pull my pants and shirt back on.

"And we will. Just chill out."

"Okay, well, we should've talked about it over a week ago if that were the case. And I've been chilling out but I'm starting to get the idea that you don't care."

"If I didn't care what you had to say, I'd tape your pretty little mouth shut, Viv." He drunkenly spurs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I raise a brow. "Don't look at me like that, babe, I--Okay, look. Your buddies are here." He laughs me off, motioning to door, reminding me  Slash, Izzy, Duff, Steven, and even Axl are over here--although I'm sure Axl's only here for the 5'3" platinum blonde playmate that I can hear going back and forth with Steven about how to properly play cards. "Tommy and Vince are coming over, Vince is bringing Sharise and you, her, and Tansy are like the trifecta or something so you can have girl time and catch up. It's gonna be a good time. We'll talk after, alright?" He assures me and I let out a breath.

"Alright." I mumble.

He smirks, giving me a sloppy kiss before I'm heading out to see everybody.

I roll my eyes and head to the kitchen, preparing myself to face Duff, who I haven't seen in three weeks.

We hung out once after I stayed at their place, and that's been it.

I step into the kitchen to see someone in our fridge, grabbing a beer, and when the door shuts I'm face to face with all six feet and four inches of McKagan.

"There you are." He chuckles out, opening the bottle with an opener on his keys and I try to catch my breath and not show signs of panic. "Thought you'd, like, died or something." He adds.

"Oh, no, I just didn't feel good." I explain.

"Yeah, Nikki told me." He replies, taking a sip of his beer. "Do you feel better now?" He asks me and I nod, although it's certain I'm not 'okay' necessarily. "You sure?"

"Yeah." I lie, smiling a little.

It was bullshit, he knew it was bullshit.

"Alright." He doesn't ask again, instead stepping to the kitchen door, purposely shoving at me with his shoulder, nearly knocking me down.

I fire back, shoving at him with mine, and we continue until we're laughing, racing to the living room.

There's an exposed seat beside Tansy and we both eye it before rambunctiously trying to see who gets there first.

We get there simultaneously, sitting down, scrunched into each other as we fight for our footing, more so assing, as we both make an effort to worm the other person off of the couch cushion.

"Move giraffe neck!" I demand in a laugh, struggling to get him out of the way.

"Not a chance, mother mary!" He replies in the same tone, managing to keep his beer from spilling.

He wins, eventually, getting me out of the way.

I'm about to give him a light hearted earful when he's pulling me into his lap.

I make sure to keep my ass on his knees, nowhere near his crotch, and he's not thinking anything of it, obviously, until Axl hears Nikki coming out of our bedroom, and I'm too busy laughing to notice.

Axl's black boot is kicking out and shoving me to the floor before Nikki can see me on Duff, and Duff and I look at the red head, about to go off on him, until we realize what he did.

Nikki's obviously just shot up, wiping the dribble of vomit from his chin with the back of his hand as his eyes play their tricks.

I'm assuming it was a speedball.

I know damn well we aren't having that talk tonight...or ever, possibly.

Never will be a good time.

The doorbell rings, and I'm eager to jump up and see who it is, to avoid going off on Nikki, crossing my fingers that it's hopefully Vince, Sharise, and Tommy.

I open the door, my eyes immediately going to Skylar's round, chubby little face as she wears a baby pink, velvet headband with a giant matching velvet flower attached to it, and a long sleeved, white onesie with baby pink socks on her little feet.

"Hey, guys." I say, stepping aside to let them in.

"'Sup, Viv." Tommy grins out widely, patting my head. His energetic mood is a deep contrast of Vince's.

"Hey." Sharise gives me a side hug and I let Skylar wrap her hand around my finger, looking at me with wide eyes and eye brows that clearly show the expression that she knows me but also doesn't know me.

"Hey, Viv." Vince flatly greets me, giving me a peck on the cheek, irritated, and I can see Sharise is in the same mood.

Great. Another couple that's wanting to kill each other. Nikki and I are in good company.

"Hey, Vince." I reply as he follows Tommy.

Skylar is kicking her feet, smiling and waving her hands, now, and Sharise hands her over to me.

"Hey, pretty girl." I greet her as me and her mom go to the living room with everyone...just in time to see Steven ripping a bong. "Baby!" I call, and all their attention shifts to the kid in my arms and they all groan a little.

Rule of "Baby": no drinking from bottles, smoking cigarettes, doing drugs, being gross with groupies, dropping f-bombs, or being a jackass when a child is around...even if the child isn't even one year yet.

It came after Skylar let out a loud and proud "Fuh!" a month prior, and at first we thought it was a random noise she was making while babbling, until she repeated the word over time until it was  pretty obvious she was practicing her pronunciation of the word "fuck," which she had heard from every person in that room.

After that, anytime someone called "baby" the cigarettes were put out, the drugs were put up, the groupies were put on behavioral probation, the alcohol was put into solo cups and the bottles were hidden, and everyone's favorite word was forbidden.

Of course they could go to another room and do anything they wanted, just not with a child in sight.

And they could complain all they wanted, but I think they liked the thought of kids being the only people able to make them clean up their act, even temporarily.

Steven puts his bong away, Duff gathers the liquor bottles and heads to the kitchen to pour it into solo cups, Slash puts out his cigarette and Nikki...

"It's fucking stupid. She's not gonna remember anything of it." Nikki snaps out a couple minutes later as Duff attempts to hand him a cup of Jack, but he refuses, motioning to Skylar once Sharise, Tansy, Steven and I are in the floor with her, and I roll my eyes.

"Babe, it's just for a few minutes. She's gonna go to sleep eventually." I tell him calmly.

"Yeah, Nikki, she usually goes to bed about an hour from now." Sharise adds.

"Sharise, it's his house." Vince takes up for Nikki. "He doesn't come over to our house and dictate what we do and don't do." 

"They can still do it, just not around our daughter." Sharise tells him.

"Exactly. There's plenty of other rooms in the house and an entire back yard." I add.

"Why bring your baby to a fucking get together like this, anyway?" Nikki asks her rudely. "You guys don't have a nanny or something?"

"Nikki." I scold him, giving him a "shut up" look.

He ignores me.

"I-I don't want a nanny raising my daughter, Nikki." Sharise states, trying to keep her cool.

"Well, then why didn't you just stay home?" He continues to come after her.

"Dude." Izzy mumbles behind us, obviously getting fed up, and I pray he doesn't say anything to Nikki or Vince to fuel the fire.

Izzy wasn't into ego, and Nikki and Vince had plenty of it...well, Vince and Sikki.

"Because I wanted to see her." I reply before Sharise can. "And the baby."

"Of course you did because stick-in-the mud Sober Sixx really knows how to keep the party going: a fucking baby." Nikki scoffs, cutting his eyes at me.

"I'd rather be known as a stick-in-the-mud than known for sticking myself at 45° angles." I snap harshly.

Everyone winces a little, and Nikki grinds his teeth together.

"What the hell is your fucking problem?!" Nikki barks at me.

"Oh, I am so glad you asked, I've only been trying to talk to you about for the past two and a half weeks!" I snap.

"Well it's not my problem I've got more important things to do than listen to you whine about our fucking relationship! You've only been doing for nearly two years now, but then you never really tell me what the fuck is wrong, so I'm kinda fucking numb to it by now!"

"I wouldn't expect you not to be numb to it, Nikki! I would be, too, if my nerves were as shot as every last cc of junk I blew my freaking money on!"

"Maybe we should go outside for a little bit--"

"--Sit down!" Nikki and I both yell at Steven before he can stand up, causing everyone else to awkwardly settle back into their seats, because they were getting ready to follow him out.

"Okay." He calmly mumbles, reaching for his cup of booze before he starts chugging.

In fact, I'm noticing them all taking more and more long sips of their drinks.

They're probably going to have grey hairs from stress after leaving tonight.

"See, look, you're turning my friends into alcoholics with your bullshit!" I accuse Nikki and he let's out a loud "HA!"

"Okay, so they're just your friends, now?!" He let's out.

By this point Skylar starts getting fussy with our screaming and Sharise attempts to calm her down.

I'm about to ask her to politely go take Skylar outside or to a different part of the house, even though by the looks of it, she's getting ready to do so anyway.

"Can you shut your God damn baby up, Sharise?!" Nikki's going after her again.

Now it seems either Izzy, Axl or Duff is about to say something, until I intervene to save them a fist fight with someone who can help their careers...not that they would even want his help anymore.

"Can you shut your God damn mouth up, Nikki?!" I stand up, ready to punch him, again, and he stands, too.

"Alright, guys--" Tommy starts but is quickly shut up with a glare from Nikki.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Viv, this is why I'm on smack! So I can get a fucking escape from being trapped in a house with you!"

"For someone who's so miserable being married to me, you sure as hell were adamant about doing so!"

"Until I realized I married a fucking psychopath!" He throws at me, pointing his finger my way.

"And I married a junkie!" I shoot back. "And all you're ever gonna be is a freaking junkie and all you're ever gonna do is junk and party and convince yourself you don't need help when you clearly do! You don't give a fuck about me or our marriage and thank fucking God we don't have kids because you'd probably sell one of them for more smack when we run out of money after your career goes down in flames when you stop giving a single fuck about music, which will probably happen in the next year since you're already writing shitty songs!" I can't stop what's coming out of my mouth, seeing him being hurt by it, disguising it as angry tears when I know I struck a chord of an entirely new emotion in him.

He was already beginning to get discouraged with his new music he was working up for the band's next album, but what I said just validated his lack of confidence.

"I'm not just gonna do junk." He calms down, which let's me know he's officially at his pique. "I'm gonna file for divorce, pack up all your shit, and have it in the yard by tomorrow night, and I'm finally gonna tell you how much I hate being married to you." He tells me and I nod like he's being serious.

"You're such a fucking--" Duff starts but I interrupt him. 

I don't even think Nikki notices.

"No, you're gonna go feel sorry for yourself, lock yourself in the closet, shoot up, wake up, feel like a fucking prick--because you are one--then you're gonna ignore me for a few days even though you know I'm right, then we're gonna go to Tommy and Heather's wedding, and the day after, I'm calling Doc and Bob Timmons, we will be attending therapy for our marriage and you will be dragged to rehab kicking and screaming."

And thus the battle between Sikki Nixx and Rabid Bitch Vivian began with no inkling it would become a full-blown war.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Curious Case of Dean Winchester: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,644

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Find anything?” Dean asked his brother after you two checked what seemed like the hundredth bar in town. “No, not a thing. Well, you come up dry, circle back to the motel in two. Your turn to grab dinner… extra bacon.”

“Sam’s getting dinner?” you chuckled as you two took a seat at the bar.

“Yeah. Can we get a beer, please?” Dean asked the bartender.

“Yep.”

“You wouldn't happen to know of a poker game going on in back, would you?”

“It's a bar, not a casino,” the bartender sighed as he popped the top of two beers before handing them over.

“My friend Ben told me you'd know,” Dean said as he reached into his jacket pocket.

“Don’t know any Ben.”

“Sure, you do. You know, balding, smart-ass, real ladies' man?”

“Listen, pal,” the bartender leaned really close to prove his point, “I told you, I don't know any Ben. I don't know nothing about a game.”

“You sure? Because,” he slid over a hundred-dollar bill with its picture of Ben Franklin in the middle, across the bar counter, “he sure seems to know you.” The bartender glanced at the bill before making the decision to take it.

“Around back. Take the elevator down,” he cleared his throat.

Grinning at the man, you two took off to the back before doing exactly what he told you to do. As soon as you approached the elevator door, it opened and your father came rolling out of it in his wheelchair.

“Dad? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Planting daisies. What's it look like? Came in on the case.”

“And you beat us here?” you asked as your dad wheeled away from you two.

“Well, brains trump legs, apparently.”

“So, you found the game?” Dean asked.

“Yep.”

“Did you stop it?” you asked but received no answer. “Dad?”

“Not exactly,” he sighed as he wheeled around to face you.

“Dad, what did you do?”

“I played, okay?” he sighed.

“And?”

“I lost.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you yelled. “You played some he-witch?”

“Don't you take that tone with me,” he glared.

“You fucking idiot!”

“They're my years! I can do what I want!” he yelled.

“And you didn’t think about me? What if you lost your life? Do you even care about my feelings?”

“How many did you lose?” Dean asked, changing the topic.

“Twenty-five,” he sighed.

Your father visibly aged twenty-five years right in front of your eyes. His skin sagged, the skin under his eyes darkened, and he looked even more tired than he already was.

“We are not done!” you growled before storming into the elevator.

Dean stared at Bobby before following you to confront the witch. As soon as you stepped foot into the room, your eyes flashed a bright blue in anger. Dean couldn’t stop you as you stormed over to the witch before grabbing his arm harshly.

“Hey, man. Excuse me. Can I borrow you for a sec?” you growled.

Patrick, the witch, looked at you before eyeing Dean who casually showed him the handle of his gun that was stashed inside of his jacket.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Great. Good to see you two,” he said as he excused himself with the couple he was with. You forced Patrick over to one of the tables with a shove.

“Hey, calm down. Look, I don't know what it is you think I did to your wife or husband or brother or mother or sister, but, uh, I just want you to know, my feelings were real, and maybe they deserved it.”

“That ain't my problem, man-witch. You owe my dad some years,” you growled as your eyes got an even brighter blue.

“My, another witch on my hands. Good to see we’re still circling the world,” he laughed.

“I’m nothing like you. Give them back.”

“I'm sorry. He lost. Them's the breaks.”

“Well, then un-lose him or I will make your death so slow and painful you’re going to wish you’d given them back,” you threatened as blue magic started to swirl in between your fingers of your right hand.

“Give it your best shot if it makes you feel better. Besides, I could use a good… tickle. Darling, what you have doesn’t compare to what I can do. You want years? Great. Play me for them,” he chuckled.

“Fine,” Dean said before he could think about his words.

“Dean!” you gasped just as your father came rolling into the room.

“Dean, no!”

“They're my years. I can do what I want,” he repeated what your father said.

“Does no one care about me?!” you yelled emotionally. “You’re throwing away your lives like it’s nothing but what about me? What if you lose, Dean? What then?”

“I’m not going to lose.”

“I can’t watch this,” you sighed before turning to Patrick with a threatening glare. “My offer is still on the table. I will not hesitate to kill you, and something tells me I will win.”

“Good,” he chuckled as you left the poker game.

There was no way you were going to give yourself a panic attack while watching the game. If Dean didn’t come back, then you were going to rain hell on Patrick. If he came back and all was well, you’d rain hell down on Dean.

The door to the motel room opened, and Sam walked in carrying takeout trays with burgers and sodas. He closed the door and set them on the table before getting a good look at your depressed state on the bed. Your back was hunched, tears stained your cheeks, and your eyes were puffy and red.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

“Ask the idiot,” you sniffled.

Dean walked out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe, but that wasn’t the most shocking thing. He played Patrick, but he lost. Dean wasn’t Dean anymore. He gained fifty years after winning your father the twenty-five he bet on. Sam reached for his gun and was going to point it at the old man, but since you weren’t freaking out about the stranger, he figured he wasn’t dangerous.

“Dean?” Sam gasped.

“Hi.”

“Okay, what the fuck happened?”

“We, you know... found the game,” he said as he picked up one of the burgers on the table.

“You f—I thought you said you were g-good at poker,” Sam exclaimed.

“He isn’t,” you glared.

“Shut up,” Dean scoffed.

“Man, you look like—”

“The old chick in Titanic. I know. Shut up,” Dean scoffed with his mouth full.

“I was gonna say Emperor Palpatine,” Sam chuckled. The door to the room thudded open, and your dad came wheeling into it before closing it.

“I see you met John McCain there.”

“Yeah. Any of you want to tell me what happened?”

“My dad’s an idiot,” you sighed, “and Dean’s an even bigger one.”

“Hey, nobody asked him to play,” your dad argued.

“Right. I should have just let you die.”

“And for damn sure, nobody asked you to lose!” Bobby yelled. Sam grinned at the interaction, but when he caught your gaze, his smile faltered.

“It's like Grumpy Old Men.”

“Shut up, Sam,” your dad and Dean said as the same time.

“What the hell were you thinking? He's a witch. He's been playing poker since guys wore tights,” you exploded at your dad.

“You just don't get it,” Bobby sighed.

“Yeah, I get it, dad. You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back and get out of that damn chair. Pretty tempting.”

“I can imagine,” Dean added.

“No, you can't.”

“You got me. I never been paralyzed. But I tell you something—I've been to hell, and there's an archangel there wanting me to drop the soap. Look at me! My junk's rustier than yours! You hear me bellyaching? Huh?”

“Uh, actually, yeah,” Sam said when Dean’s stomach rumbled loudly. Dean gasped and took a seat while still holding onto his burger.

“I'm having a heart attack,” Dean gasped. Before you could publicly freak out, your dad spoke.

“No, you’re not.”

“What is this?”

“Acid reflux. Guys your age can't digest certain foods. You're gonna need to put down that cheeseburger,” he chuckled. Dean sighed and placed the burger down regretfully.

“So, you want to keep emoting, or you want to talk about solving this little issue of yours? It's got to be about the chips.”

“I slid 'em across, Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry.”

“I mean, what are you all thinking? Some kind of magic chips or something?” Sam asked.

“Definitely.”

“You remember what he chanted?” you asked.

“Every word,” your dad nodded.

“Alright, then let's find out where he stashes his chips,” Sam declared.

“And steal me fifty. Benjamin Button me back into burger shape. What do you think?” Dean smiled.

“I think you ought to put some clothes on,” you sighed.

Dean rolled his eyes but made his way to the bathroom where his clothes were. Luckily, they still fit, and he walked out twenty minutes later fully clothed. Someone knocked on the door, and Dean went to answer it. It was housekeeping, and she was a beautiful young woman. Dean’s natural instinct was to flirt, but with his age and looks, you weren’t even worried.

“Ready for housekeeping, sir?”

“Born ready,” Dean grinned.

“You're just like my grandfather,” she laughed and his grin faded. “He hits on anything that moves, too. You’re adorable.”

“And dangerous,” Dean frowned when she walked into the room to gather the dirty sheets.

“Aw,” she giggled. You, your dad, and Sam were all smirking at the scene before you.

“Can we just go? You’re my girlfriend. Shouldn’t you be jealous or something?” Dean pouted.

“No, you deserved that,” you declared as you left the room with the three men.

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[softeddiek]

so @adamlvnchs made this post about eddie living and richie taking him to the Kissing Bridge to show him where he carved their initials and it hit me hard so i wrote about it. i’m sure this has been done to death but oh well, lol

Fuck it, I love You

reddie fix-it fic; 2.6k words; read on ao3 

It’s been six weeks. Six weeks since he got that phone call from Mike—a ghost from his past that he barely remembered. Just under six weeks since they had defeated It; since they had rushed Eddie to the hospital, blood pouring out of his chest. So much fucking blood—Richie doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much blood coming out of someone in his life.

Richie had been in and out of Eddie’s hospital room for all of those weeks, only leaving when the nurses physically forced him out or when the Losers told him he’d gone too many days without a shower. The scent of disinfectant was so strong in the place, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to smell anything else and he’s pretty sure the chair in the corner of the room by Eddie’s bed has basically turned into a mold of his ass by now.

Eddie had been out of it for the first two weeks. It turns out that when you get your chest sliced into like a fucking watermelon, you need a lot of time to recuperate. The doctors were constantly pumping him with strong medication, so he mostly just slept, barely waking up long enough to process that all of the Losers had forced their way into his room (again) before he had fallen back asleep.

Okay, that was a lie. He had woken up for a significant period of time once in those two weeks, when his wife had come by in a frenzied state, demanding to know why the hospital had allowed all of these people in her husband’s room (“These filthy people,” she’d said. Richie felt like she’d been eyeing him in particular). Richie had thought he could be loud, but that was nothing compared to Myra Kaspbrak (God, he can feel himself just cringing at Eddie’s last name being joined with her first. Eddie had married a woman. And Richie had thought he had repressed his sexuality pretty damn hard). That had woken Eddie up, sending his heart monitor racing as, with some newfound confidence (Dying can do that to a man, Richie guesses), he stammered out that he didn’t want Myra to be there, in fact, he didn’t want Myra in his life at all.

He’s still not entirely sure that Eddie remembers it happening, but when the Losers had brought it up later, when he was coherent enough for normal conversation, he’d just stared at the off-white walls of his room for a minute before nodding slowly and moving them on to a new subject.

Once the doctors and nurses have assured them all that Eddie is making a speedy recovery, and should be out in just a few weeks, the Losers all begin to depart Derry, one by one.

Only Eddie needed somewhere to stay right? Someone to help him once he’s out of the hospital, changing his bandages and all of that. So, Richie had offered himself; had continued to become one with the hospital chair, keeping Eddie company. Had offered to let Eddie come out to California with him and crash at his place for as long as he needed. “It’ll be like old times, when we would have sleepovers!” Only this time it’s just the two of them and this time Richie knows what that feeling deep in his chest is every time he catches Eddie smiling at him; every time Eddie scoffs at one of his dumb jokes; every time the light from outside the hospital window hits Eddie just right, framing itself around him like a halo.

He’d expected strange looks from the other Losers as they left; questioning looks. He knows he’d been a bit (see: insanely) distraught when they were down there, trying to keep Eddie’s guts together—and for the first two weeks he was in the hospital—so he expected some prying questions. Only they don’t mention it. They smile at him—send him knowing looks instead—and make him promise to get some rest, to eat more than a fast food cheeseburger, and take care of Eddie for them. To keep in touch. And when they’ve each done that, and it’s just him and Eddie left, he feels like some of that twenty-seven-year-old weight has been lifted off of his chest. Because they know. Maybe they’ve always known.

And now Eddie’s finally being discharged, weeks later. Their plane tickets are booked, Richie had a cleaning service stop by his apartment (because he knows Eddie would have a conniption if he saw the state Richie had left his apartment in before leaving for Derry), and both of their bags are in the rental car that he’s driving them to the airport in.

But as he’s watching Eddie sign the mountains of paperwork his nurse is having him fill out before he can leave, Richie knows his business in Derry isn’t finished.

Maybe it’s almost being murdered by It (for the second time) that gives him that final push. Maybe it was seeing Eddie so close to death. Maybe it’s just this fucking town, bringing up feelings of inadequacy and just plain wrongness. But he’s sick of that feeling; just plain sick and tired of keeping his feelings a secret—a secret from himself, his friends. From Eddie. A secret that had been festering inside him for decades.

Whatever it is that does it, something inside him tells him they have to make one last stop before leaving town for good.

“Ready Eddie Spaghetti?” he asks around a smile, guiding Eddie toward the car with a light hand on his back. Eddie has a shirt and a jacket on it, but Richie swears his hand is burning from the contact.

“Don’t call me that Rich,” Eddie huffs out, frown on his face.

Richie can tell he’s not in the best mood—probably feeling sore from having to make his way to the car after being laid up in bed for so long. His lips are pulling into a frown and for a second Richie is unsure on whether this is a good idea. Eddie is coming to live with him for fucks sake, he’ll have plenty of time to confess his feelings for him later.

But then he opens the car door for Eddie, gently buckling him up in his seatbelt, making sure to move the strap as far away from his wound as possible, and is rewarded with a soft smile in reply, his hand ghosting lightly over Richie’s hand that’s tugging at the strap.

Okay, he is definitely doing this.

They start driving, Eddie fumbling with the radio dial until he settles on a station playing an old song Richie vaguely recognizes. Derry isn’t an especially large town and soon they’re just five minutes away from the Kissing Bridge. He sees Eddie tapping his hand along to the song on his knee out of the corner of his eye. Richie’s breath is starting to become a little uneven, his hands feeling shaky despite having a firm grip on the steering wheel. He’s become so distracted by his thoughts telling him Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke, that he suddenly realizes that they’re already driving over the bridge and he has to brake suddenly, his right arm shooting out in front of Eddie to stop any quick movements.

“What the fuck Richie?!”

He turns the ignition off and can feel Eddie’s confused stare on the side of his face. Distantly he hears Eddie calling his name, his hand shoving at Richie’s arm, but he just scrambles out of the car, taking in deep breaths of fresh air.

All of his confidence from earlier feels like it’s suddenly vanished, because how the fuck do you tell one of your oldest friends that you’ve been in love with them for nearly three decades? Even better, how do you tell your same-sex friend this when they previously operated under the assumption you were straight?

He hears the passenger door slamming closed and turns, wide-eyed to see Eddie leaning against the side of the car, a frantic look reflecting in his own eyes.

“Richie? What’s wrong, are you okay, can you breathe?” He starts fumbling with a backpack, one Richie realizes he must have gotten out of the back seat. “I have my inhaler somewhere in here I…it helps with anxiety if you just…” Eddie trails off noticing the grin threatening to overtake Richie’s face. Eddie’s own face falls flat. “What the fuck man, I thought you were having an anxiety attack or something.”

Richie lets out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, I probably was.” He rubs nervously at the back of his neck, taking long strides around the car to meet a wary looking Eddie on the other side.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?”

“It’s kind of a big thing and, fuck. I’m terrified.”

“Rich. After everything we’ve just been through, what could you possibly have to be terrified of anymore?”

Richie gulps nervously and takes a shaky breath. “It’s not...It’s something I’ve always been afraid of actually.” He means to say more but he looks up at Eddie, sees the concerned look on his face. His relationship with Eddie had always been like this; fucking around and making jokes but knowing when one needed the other to be serious. To listen. He sees the seriousness in Eddie’s earnest expression and is hit with such a heavy wave of nostalgia. He’d been full of it since returning to Derry (it was kind of hard not to be when you were literally trying to remember your whole fucking childhood) but this is different. He knows he’s in love with Eddie; knows he always has been. But this just reaffirms how important Eddie had been to him. How their relationship worked; how well he knows him, even after all of these years apart where they had little memory of each other. It’s this that makes him reach forward for Eddie’s hand, helping him slowly walk over to the wooden side beams of the bridge. He pulls him down into a crouch beside him, right in front of that same spot he had knelt in front of twenty-seven years ago.

Eddie’s eyes are on Richie the whole time, confusion in them and a small wince of pain flashing across his face that Richie apologizes in his head for causing. “Richie, what are we doing?”

Taking a deep breath, Richie looks away from Eddie and at the wooden plank in front of them. At the letters carved in front of him. He hears Eddie’s sharp intake of breath and Richie knows that he’s looking at the same spot.

“Rich…” He clears his throat. “Richie what…”

“I’m gay, Eddie.” Richie blurts out, eyes hyper-focused on the R+E carved in front of him.

They’re both silent for a minute, only the sound of birds chirping and the soft rustle of trees around them. The longer the silence persists, the more worried he becomes. Fuck it, might as well come out with the rest, he thinks.

“I’m gay and I’m in love with you. Have been for twenty-seven years. Probably longer actually, that’s just when I remember knowing.” Eddie’s opening his mouth to say something, but Richie’s nerves keep him going, scared to let Eddie get a word in. “And I know you married a woman—which, wow, was not expecting that Eds, I mean I’m not trying to say I just assumed you were gay but talk about a surprise—” Eddie lets out a huff at that, causing Richie to turn and look at his face, scrunched up in irritation. He feels his glasses slipping down the slope of his nose and pushes them back up, Eddie’s eyes tracking the movement. “Um, yeah so, I know this is probably really fucking weird for you. And maybe you don’t want to go stay with me which I completely understand but I think you still should regardless because, well, you’re kind of still a mess Eds and I know you know a lot about proper care for wounds and shit but I really listened to the doctors and nurses, promise, and I’m kind of the only other person who did so you technically need my help and I swear I’m not going to like, try to come onto you or some shit so you should really—”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupts, voice firm. Richie stops in his tracks, cheeks burning hot from embarrassment and nerves. “You talk too fucking much.”

Richie hears a strangled laugh leave his lips of its own accord and finds himself clearing his throat to cover it up. Eddie’s eyes are on him, a soft look in them, which he supposes is better than a look of disgust. Not that pity is what he wanted. He feels his stomach drop, waiting for the rejection he knows is coming.

“Do you have a pocketknife?” is what Eddie asks instead, throwing him for a loop.

“I…uh yeah? In my backpack.”

Eddie stands up quickly, hand to his chest for a moment as he begins slowly shuffling back to the car. Richie makes to move after him but, without turning back, Eddie calls out, “Stay there.”

Richie feels his jaw clench involuntarily from nerves. Unsure what exactly is going on, he jokes, “Not trying to murder me, are you Eds? No offense, but I think I can dodge you even when you aren’t moving like my grandma.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says from where he’s rummaging in the back seat of the car. There’s little heat behind it, but Richie still finds himself worried.

Eddie seems to have found the old pocketknife, as he’s shutting the door and coming back toward Richie. Seeing Eddie hobbling toward him, knife in hand, eyes focused on the bridge, Richie has a moment of clarity. He’s going to cross it out, he thinks. Get rid of any evidence and then get as far away from me as he can. He feels sick at the thought. This is what I get for being brave once in my fucking life. Never again.

Only, when Eddie is back on the ground, opening the knife and pressing it against the wood, it isn’t to cross out the letters. No, the knife is pressed into the R, Eddie’s hand shaking a little as he repeats the same motions Richie had all of those years ago. He makes the grooves deep, the letter looking like it had just been carved as he moves onto the plus sign. Richie can only stare in shock.

When he’s done, Eddie closes the pocketknife and looks over to Richie, a small smile on his face. Richie feels his own mouth curving up into a smile, a breath he didn’t realize he was holding escaping him. His lips part, to say what he has no fucking clue, but before anything can come out, Eddie’s leaning forward, his lips pressing firmly to Richie’s cheek. It burns in the best of ways and all Richie can think about is how this is actually happening; his cheek is being kissed by the man he’s been in love with since he was a kid—a man who now knows how he feels. In Derry no less, a place of nightmares where he’d been forced to bury that bit of himself so deep.

Eddie pulls away and laces his free hand with Richie’s. Richie’s eyes dart down to where they’re joined, and his eyes begin to sting as they well with tears. Eddie gets up to his feet, pulling Richie with him.  

“Let’s go home Rich,” he says, smile still soft, as he leads Richie by the hand toward the car.

Richie lets himself glance back one more time to the bridge; to those letters, R+E, together as they’re always been meant to be. When he slides into the driver’s seat and has started the car, his right hand immediately seeks out Eddie’s left. With the warm weight of Eddie’s hand in his, he pulls back out onto the road, feeling as weightless as he’s ever felt.

[blacktofade]

For @wooshie-woosh​, who prompted, “they wouldn’t let me visit you in the hospital room unless i was family so i told them we’re married.”

*

Shane’s eyes are closed when Ryan steps into the room and shuts the door behind himself. He’s breathing evenly, but the silence is punctuated by intermittent snores, so loud that Ryan knows he must be on some kind of medication because Shane never snores. There’s a chair beside the bed that Ryan carefully lowers himself into before resting his fingers at the edge of Shane’s sheets. He wants to touch, but isn’t sure he’s allowed.

“You idiot,” he says gently. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

Shane snorts on a particularly deep inhale and jerks himself awake, hands flailing and tugging at his IV line in a way that looks uncomfortable. Ryan quickly reaches out to grab his wrists, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself as he settles.

“Wha — ” Shane says, voice rough and confused, like he has no idea what’s actually happening.

“It’s just me,” Ryan tells him. “It’s Ryan.”

Shane looks over at him and blinks for a moment, before slumping into the pillows, his arms finally relaxing where Ryan has them pressed to the soft fabric of his hospital gown.

“Ryan?” he asks and turns his hand to grip at Ryan’s fingers like a lifeline. “You came to visit.”

“You stupid fucking idiot,” Ryan says and Shane’s gaze is sluggish, a tinge of sedation to it, like they’ve given him the good stuff.

“‘M thinking that’s not the first time you’ve said that.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Physically or mentally?”

“Shane,” Ryan implores and Shane lets out a laugh that doesn’t quite sound sober. It cuts off almost immediately as Shane pulls his hand away to press it to his side.

“Don’t make me laugh, Ryan,” he pleads and Ryan moves his hands to rest beside Shane's body, fingertips barely brushing the covers over his hip.

“What did you do, dummy?”

“I’m hurt, Ryan. You're legally obligated to be nicer to me,” Shane says, rolling his head to the side to keep watching Ryan without moving any further.

“No, I'm not,” Ryan snaps. “If you die, I need you to know how fucking stupid I think you are.”

Shane laughs again, but his hand finds Ryan’s once more like that’s the way it is now.

“I already know that,” Shane tells him. “But I’m not going to die. Just a few cuts and bruises.”

“Shane,” Ryan says in disbelief, “your lung collapsed.”

“Yeah, and I got a cool tube to reinflate it — want to see?”

He lifts his arm like he’s going to push aside his gown and show it off, but Ryan drags it back down with an emphatic, “No, Shane.”

Shane watches him for a moment before saying, “I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“I know,” Ryan replies, dragging his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “If you weren’t so stupidly tall, you wouldn’t have fallen so far. Why were you even standing on that chair?”

“I was helping with lighting for a video. I didn’t mean to lose my balance.”

Ryan hadn’t seen it happen, but he’d heard the commotion and when he’d gone to investigate, had seen Shane sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath and looking far too pale.

Ryan drops his head down, pressing his brow to the cool metal of the railing at the side of Shane’s bed. He takes a steadying breath and lets it out slowly. There’s the light touch of a hand on his neck, and Shane’s fingers rub across his skin soothingly.

“You okay?” Shane asks gently and Ryan laughs and finally raises his head.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“I don’t know. So far all you’ve done is call me stupid.”

Ryan doesn’t think he has to say aloud that it’s his own way of admitting how much he cares. He hopes Shane already knows and the softness of his expression hints that he does. He goes to open his mouth and maybe try to put words to how he’s feeling, but there’s a knock on the door.

“Hi, Shane,” says the woman in scrubs who opens it and steps inside, and Shane lifts a hand to wave at her like they’re well acquainted. She glances at Ryan and smiles softly. “This must be your husband; they mentioned someone was visiting.”

Ryan can feel Shane’s gaze burning into the side of his head, but he avoids turning to look, praying that Shane knows to go along with it.

“Ryan Madej,” Ryan lies, holding his hand out for the nurse to shake, which she does.

“Arlene,” she replies. “You must be the Ryan he was asking for when he was sedated.”

Ryan actually turns to look at Shane then because perhaps they both have their own secrets. Shane doesn’t quite seem able to meet his eyes.

“I’m just here to change your dressing, Shane,” Arlene says, moving to the side of the bed opposite Ryan. “I’ll get out of your way soon — I know you guys probably want some quality time together after everything.”

Arlene is methodical as she exposes Shane’s side only enough to peel away the old bandage and check whatever it is she’s actually checking. Ryan, thankfully, can’t see much from where he’s sitting, but he can see the uncomfortable expression on Shane’s face and it’s the easiest thing in the world to slip his hand into Shane’s own and squeeze encouragingly. Shane squeezes back.

“He’s been a good patient,” Arlene tells Ryan as she carefully tapes a clean dressing over Shane’s side.

“I’m your favorite,” Shane jokes and Arlene makes a thoughtful face.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she replies coolly and Shane laughs, clutching at his ribs again.

“You guys need to stop that,” Shane complains. “It hurts.”

Arlene pats his shoulder and then tucks the sheets back around him.

“You’ll get your next dose of pain medication with lunch,” she promises, before adding, “Don’t do anything that might pull at your tube.”

“No handstands,” Ryan tells him and Arlene glances over like maybe she was thinking Ryan would be the one to exacerbate things.

At his frown, she says, “No heavy petting.”

Ryan’s face heats. “We wouldn’t — ”

“That’s what they all say. Just keep your hands to yourselves,” she advises, but then she’s moving towards the door. “It was nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“You too,” Ryan replies weakly and the door shuts behind her, leaving them in silence.

There’s a beat, and then another, before Shane says, “Ryan Madej?”

Ryan drops his head back to the bed railing and lets out a heavy breath.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I was family,” he admits. “In hindsight, I should’ve just said I was a cousin, not your husband.”

Shane huffs a laugh and sounds fond when he says, “Oh, Ryan,” even though it also sounds like he thinks Ryan’s an idiot.

Ryan sits upright to meet Shane’s gaze. “Yeah, well, what have you got to say about apparently asking for me when you were high?”

Shane gives half a shrug, looking casual. “If you’re trying to embarrass me, it won’t work.”

“Because you have no shame?”

“‘Cause I’m not embarrassed about asking for you.”

Another flush hits Ryan’s face and he clears his throat. “Cute.”

“Is that why you married me?”

“Shane,” Ryan pleads, but Shane doesn’t look repentant.

“I’m marriage material.”

“You’re on very strong drugs that have weakened your inhibitions,” Ryan tries to joke and Shane frowns.

“How dare you,” he says. “How dare you suggest I’ve ever had inhibitions.”

“Is there a button I can press to get Arlene back in here to knock you out?”

“This’ll end in divorce,” Shane says and Ryan finally reaches across to press a palm over his mouth. Shane looks at him with soft eyes that crinkle in the corners like he’s smiling under Ryan’s palm.

“Shane, shut the fuck up.”

He pulls his hand away and Shane almost lasts a full thirty seconds before he speaks.

“You always say the sweetest things.”

“I'm never going to hear the end of this,” Ryan mutters and Shane grins crookedly.

“It doesn't sound right, you know.”

Ryan glances down, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice as he says, “What? Us being together?”

“No, you taking my last name. Shane Bergara sounds way cooler.”

When Ryan looks up at him, Shane's watching him like he knows each and every dark secret Ryan has, like he knows just how panicked Ryan's been over the past day, trying to get to Shane's side. He sets his hand over one of Ryan's own and rubs his thumb along Ryan's knuckles.

“You know,” he says and Ryan can already tell that whatever it is that's about to leave Shane's mouth won't be good, “Arlene said no heavy petting.”

Ryan frowns at him. “Yeah, I was here for it if you’ve already forgotten.”

“I mean, she didn’t say anything about light petting.”

Ryan has to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What?”

“If you wanted to lay one on me, you could.”

“Lay one on you,” Ryan says as blandly as he can manage with his heart trying to thunder its way out of his chest.

“I could lay one on you, but you'd have to help me sit up and that would defeat the purpose.”

Ryan stares at Shane, feeling like maybe the drugs he’s on are stronger than he first thought. Shane stares back and Ryan becomes aware of an incessant beeping that pulls him from the moment. Looking over, he finds it’s the sound of the heart rate monitor Shane’s hooked up to. He blinks and Shane clears his throat.

“No cheating,” he says and Ryan looks back at him.

“What?”

“I’m over here trying to play it cool. Pretend you can’t hear that.”

Ryan realizes then that the uptick in Shane’s pulse is because of him. As calm and collected Shane appears on the outside making his little jokes about kissing, he’s internally freaking out, and Ryan can appreciate that, because he is too.

“Are you panicking because you don’t want me to do anything?”

“I’m not panicking,” Shane lies. “But if I were, it might be because I thought I was going to die earlier, which, looking back, I’ll admit is dramatic, but I kept thinking about how you might never know what I want.”

Ryan swallows. “What do you want?”

“Mostly you,” Shane says, causing another uptick on the heart rate monitor and it’s endearing how Shane tries his best to ignore it. “Maybe a cheeseburger.”

A silence stretches out between them as Ryan tries to organize his thoughts, but Shane’s expression shifts, like he’s thinking Ryan isn’t saying anything because he’s trying to find a way to let him down gently.

“I can only give you one of those things,” he blurts out, which doesn’t seem to help until he clarifies, “and it’s not the cheeseburger.”

The heart rate monitor kicks into overdrive then and Ryan glances at it, worried. “Are they going to think you’re having a heart attack in here?”

“Arlene is definitely going to assume there’s heavy petting going on.”

“What are rumors without a little truth to them?” Ryan says and Shane looks at him, his cheeks beginning to redden.

“So you are going to lay one on me?”

Ryan pushes himself up out of his chair and stands flush with the edge of the bed, peering down at Shane who looks anticipatory. With the beeping echoing around the room, Ryan gently sets a hand against the side of Shane’s face, feeling the heat of his skin while he bends at the waist to press their lips together softly.

Shane makes a quiet noise against his mouth and immediately tries to deepen it. Ryan pulls away, using his other hand on Shane’s shoulder to keep him from rising up to try to chase him.

“You call that a kiss?” Shane complains and Ryan swipes his thumb along Shane’s cheekbone.

“No heavy petting,” he reminds him and Shane scoffs.

“No heavy petting doesn’t mean no tongue. Kiss your husband like you mean it.”

Ryan blows out a breath and shakes his head. “I don’t know why I was worried about you. You’re still an idiot.”

“Okay, Ryan Madej,” Shane says, shifting a hand to the back of Ryan's head and pulling him in for another kiss. Ryan doesn’t fight it because it’s exactly what he wants and Shane’s mouth is soft against his own. Slowly, the beeping from the heart rate monitor evens out and Shane carefully pulls away. “See? You’re good for my health.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, but presses back in for another kiss, knowing it can tell Shane everything he can’t put into words, and for now, it’s enough.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 30

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Thirty, The Time Has Come for Letting Go

Ella

About sixteen years later

"Hey, Dad," I said, poking my head into his bathroom. He was shaving, and cream covered half of his face. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, kid."

"Sorry I'm such an ass."

"Me too, for the record." He winked at me, running the razor over his skin, leaving a line in the cream.

"I see where I get it." I grinned, walking past him. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, and watched him rid himself of stubble. He always looked younger when he was bare faced. "You mad at me?"

"Never." Dad smiled at me. "I made you, which means I'm never gonna be mad at you. Frustrated at times, but never mad."

"Hm." I looked down at my hands. "Even if I told you I was wasted when Claire found me?"

"Steal my good whiskey that I've been saving?"

"What? No."

"Then, nah I'm not mad. You're a good kid, El. The reason you're so upset is because of me, so I don't blame you for drowning it a bit."

I shook my head. I couldn't ask for a better dad. Claire was right. "They were setting up for the Halloween festival."

"Oh yeah? That time already?"

"Mhm. If you don't have any cases lined up I was thinking... maybe we could all go, like as a family. Dads, Jackie, Claire, the whole nine."

"What about the newest member?"

"What?"

"Clementine." He grinned at me, before splashing his face with water.

"Christ, Dad. No, the cat isn't coming."

"She's kind of cute, though. If you get past the initial shock factor. Actually kinda looks like you when you were a baby,” he teased.

"I'm so bad at rebellious activity. I'm failing miserably."

"You have no idea how happy that makes me, kid." Dad leaned forward and placed a kiss on my head. "I think the festival sounds like a great time. I'll talk to Sammy and Cas about it."

I wrapped my arms around his waist, and buried my face in his chest. "I really miss you when you leave, you know."

He wrapped his arms around me protectively, like he'd been doing all my life. "I know,” he murmured. "I miss you too."

"Did Mom go on cases with you?" I asked when we released each other from our hug.

"Yeah." He smiled. "She was damn good, too. Saved my tail multiple times. She had this way about her. She could put together a puzzle without lookin at the picture on the box. She was always finding the answer. She said she had instinct, which was true, but she also was fighting against her gender. The hunter world is like all the others, a mans world. And fuck did she make us all regret feeling that way." He laughed.

He seemed so effortless, lost in the memory. His green eyes seemed far away. He closed them for a moment. "Sammy and I walked into a trap, and she saved our ass. Us and uncle Bobby." He laughed lightly. "She put two and two together in a way I never could."

"Bet she didn't let you live that save down."

He laughed and grinned at me. "No way. She rubbed it in all the time. That was... that was the first night I spent with her." He met my eyes. "You probably don't want to hear about that. Your parents as people and all."

"No." I reached for his hand. "If you want to tell me, I want to hear it. I want to hear about how you fell in love."

Maybe it was the fact that we weren't fighting, or maybe that I knew he was going to die that made him crack open to me. He exposed his soft under belly, and I was going to poke it. I had to.

"I got hit real hard in the head. Kind of fucked up my inhibitions." He looked down, touching the back of his head, like he was in the memory. "She was watching me, to make sure I didn't die in my sleep. I told her I thought she was beautiful. Cute to be exact, and she didn't like that. Thought I was patronizing her. She chewed me out, and I had to explain... I meant she was cute. She was beautiful. Hell, kid, she was everything I didn't know I wanted."

"How'd she react to that news?" I asked, literally on the edge of my seat.

"She told me we couldn't have anything. ‘t was too dangerous. Not even for a night."

"But?"

"But I convinced her." He grinned. "I'm basically irresistible."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help smiling along with him. "What then?"

"We stayed together all night. I think that was the night I realized that I was in deep. Before I knew I didn't want to live without her, and that was the night that I knew I couldn't ever lose her. So when she said it was a one night only occurrence I had to agree, even though it hurt like hell."

"It obviously didn't last."

He looked down bashfully and sighed a bit. "No. It didn't last. Nothing ever does." He looked back at me. "I'm tired. Raincheck, kiddo?"

"Of course," I said, quietly. A pang in my chest. I knew I hurt his feelings. I poked the wrong place and he curled back into himself, covering that vulnerable spot. I stood up and hugged him one more time. "Night, Daddy. Love you." I kissed his smooth, minty cheek.

"Love you too, Nel."

Dean

Present

"Where the fuck?" I was in my kitchen with my wife. She held baby Nel in her arms, and I was leaning in to kiss her. I leaned forward to press my lips to hers and I fell forward. She was gone, and when I opened my eyes I was in a weird, white, sterile room. There was a round table and two chairs. One door and no windows. I suddenly felt really fucking claustrophobic.

"Hello, Dean. It's almost time."

I turned, recognizing the gruff voice. "Cas? You literally ripping me out of the arms of my wife?"

Cas blinked numbly at me, and I turned again, feeling eyes on the back of my head.

Zachariah smiled at me. I'd met the angel a few times, and he always gave me the creeps. The gray whisps coming off his head seemed to float, like he was electrically charged at all times.

"Hello, Dean. You're looking fit."

"Well, how 'bout this? The Suite Life of Zach and Cas." I stared at the two angels. It was like talking to a fucking wall. I pinched the bridge of my nose with a sigh. "It's a... never mind. So, what is this? Where the hell am I?" I gestured to the room.

"Call it a Green Room. We're closing in on the grand finale, here. We want to keep you safe before showtime." He snapped his fingers, a few beers and a pile of bacon cheeseburgers appeared on a large platter. I raised an eyebrow. If things didn't smell so fucking fishy I'd be stoked. I realized, with a growl of my stomach, that I couldn't remember the last meal Ava and I had that didn't consist of just black coffee. "Try a burger. They're your favorite. From that seaside shack in Delaware. You were 11, I think."

"Not hungry."

"No? How about Ginger from season 2 of Gilligan's Island? You do have a thing for her, don't you?"

I gasped dramatically. "Zach, I'm married."

"We'll throw in Mary Ann for free."

I rolled my eyes. This dude was fucking weird. "No, no. Let's... bail on the holodeck, okay? I want to know what the game plan is."

"Let us worry about that. We want you... focused, relaxed."

I flexed my hands at my sides. Ava was going to be seriously worried. I felt my pants pocket. Empty, of course. My phone was on the kitchen counter. "Well, I'm about to be pissed and leaving, so start talking, Chuckles."

Zach clasped his hands with a sigh. "All the seals have fallen. Except one."

"That's an impressive score. That's... that's right up there with the Washington Generals."

"You think sarcasm's appropriate, do you? Considering... you started all of this? But the final seal... it'll be different."

I frowned, not liking being reminded of Hell. Keep me comfortable my ass. "Why?"

"Lilith has to break it. She's the only one who can. Tomorrow night at midnight."

I stood up a little straighter. It was time. "Where?"

"We're working on it."

"Well, work harder!" I shouted. This guy was testing my patience. I glanced at Cas who was silently pressed against the wall, avoiding me.

"We'll do our job," Zachariah promised. "You just make sure you do yours."

I crossed my arms. "Yeah, and what is that, exactly? If I'm supposed to be the one that stops her, how? With the knife?"

I lazy smile touched Zachariahs lips. "All in good time."

I narrowed my eyes. "Isn't now a good time? You know, before she breaks the seal?"

"Have faith."

"What, in you? Give me one good reason why I should." I took a step closer to him.

"Because you swore your obedience. So obey."

I looked to Cas again, this time I caught him looking at me, but he immediately averted his gaze. What the hell is going on here? There was something they weren't saying. Something Cas wanted to say, but couldn't. He was an open book, that kid.

"I do want something, after all."

Zachariah raised an eyebrow. "Of course. What can I get you?"

"I want to talk to Cas. Alone."

Zachariah glanced at Cas, and groaned. "Fine. Castiel you have your orders." He pointed before snapping his fingers, and disappearing into thin air.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Cas asked, not stepping any closer to me.

"Yeah, man. I do. Listen, I need you to take me to see Sam," I said desperately. Something felt wrong, and I was worried. Ava was right, of fucking course she was. If it walks like a duck, it's probably a fucking duck, and the confined spaces of my new digs were making me feel like this duck had teeth.

"I cannot allow that."

I walked to him. "What's wrong with you? Of course you can. I just need to talk to him, Cas. Bring him here. I don't care."

"You want to speak to him after how your last conversation went?"

"That's exactly why."

"He is dangerous, Dean. He has consumed a lot of demon blood," Cas said gently.

I winced. I was hoping otherwise, but I wasn't exactly surprised.

"We need to protect him. We need to stop him from jumping into the ring with Lilith. If I can take her down... we have to help Sam before he gets killed."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I can't do that."

"So what? Am I trapped here?"

"Of course not."

"Then I want to go for a walk," I said flatly, eyeing the door.

"I'm not sure that's wise."

"What the fuck is happening, Cas? Just be a man! Just tell me!"

Suddenly Zachariah poofed back into the room.

"Christ, man. You don't know how to knock," I complained. "Let me out of here," I said right to Zachariah.

He shook his head. "Can't. It's too dangerous out there. Demons on the prowl."

I laughed out loud and shook my head. "Yeah, I don't buy that for a second. I've been getting my ass kicked all year. Now you're sweating my safety? You're lying. I want to see my brother."

"That's... ill-advised."

"You know, I am so sick of your crap riddles and your smug, fat face. What the hell is going on, huh? Why can't I see Sam? And how am I gonna ice Lilith?"

Zachariah sighed and rubbed his temples. Didn't know angels got headaches, but it seemed like I annoyed Zach into getting one. "You're not going to ice Lilith."

"Excuse me?"

"Lilith's going to break the final seal. Fait accompli at this point. Train's left the station."

"But me and Sam, we can stop..." It was like someone turned the lights on. Like I'd been sitting in the darkness. "Holy fuck. You don't want to stop it, do you?"

"Nope. Never did. The end is nigh,” he said casually. "The apocalypse is coming, kiddo, to a theater near you."

I clenched my fists, my daughter's face flashing in my mind. I've been so stupid. "What was all that crap about saving seals?"

"Our grunts on the ground...we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands. I mean, think about it. Would we really let 65 seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?"

"But why?" I glanced at Cas. He was avoiding my eyes again. Fucking coward.

"Why not? The apocalypse? Poor name, bad marketing ya know? Puts people off. When all it is is Ali/Foreman on a slightly larger scale, and we like our chances. When our side wins it's paradise on earth. Now, what's not to like about that?"

"Sounds too good to be true," I said smugly. "What happens to all the people during your little pissing contest?"

"Well... you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case... truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. Look, it happens. This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered."

Suddenly I was glad that my brother wasn't here. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was our only hope. "What about Sam? He won't go quietly. He'll stop Lilith."

"Sam... has a part to play. A very important part. He may need a little nudging in the right direction, but I'll make sure he plays it."

"What the fuck does that mean? What are you gonna do to him?"

"Forget about him, would you? You have larger concerns. Why do you think I'm confiding in you? You're still vital, Dean. We weren't lying about your destiny. Just omitted a few pertinent details. But nothing's changed. You are chosen. You will stop it. Just not Lilith, or the apocalypse. That's all."

"Which means?"

Zach smiled, causing my stomach to drop. "Lucifer. You're going to stop Lucifer."

I felt like the room was spinning. "Tell me something. Where's God in all this?"

Zach laughed humorlessly. "God? God has left the building."

I pulled back my fist, wanting nothing more than to knock this smug son of a bitch out, but he blinked away from me again, right as my fist was about to collide with his jaw.

I fell to my knees and shouted, slamming my fists into the stark white tile.

"Dean," Cas said weakly.

I looked up at him desperately. "What are you gonna do to Sam?"

"Nothing. He's gonna do it to himself."

"What's that supposed to mean? God, just say what you mean! For once in your fucking life be honorable. I know Ava talked to you about that. I know that's why you healed me. We have somethin, Cas. Don't act like you don't know it. You aren't like these cold bastards,” he said nothing. Blank, like a fucking statue. Maybe I was wrong all this time. "Yeah, well, fuck you too. Why are you even here?"

"We've been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this."

I pulled myself to my feet. "Sorry? That's fucking rich man!" I said, my fist colliding with his jaw. I needed to hit something. Anything. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hold my daughter. I wanted to say goodbye, because the longer I was here, the more I realized that I would lose that chance. "It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than sorry."

Cas sighed, not even moved by my hit, even though my own knuckles throbbed. "Try to understand. This is long foretold. This is your..."

"Destiny? Don't give me that bullshit. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families... My wife, my baby, my brother. Family. That's real. And you're really gonna watch them all burn?"

Cas finally broke. He raised his voice, poking me in the chest. "What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you, Dean. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace, even with Sam. Ava and Eleanor will be there, too."

"Don't you fucking say their names." I clenched my fist and shook my head, avoiding his striking blue eyes. "You can take your peace and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. Ava's always told me that anything worth having hurts. The idea of losing it can tear you apart, but that's what makes it worth having." I turned back to him. "This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it." He turned away from me, and I grabbed his shoulder. "Look at me, damn it! Help me, Cas!"

Cas paused for a moment before answering. "What would you have me do?"

"Get me to Sam," I said, desperately. "We can stop this before it's too late."

"I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed."

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it," I told him, but he shook his head and sighed. "So, what? I offer to help you. You fuckers lie to me, and now I don't even get to say goodbye before you blow up the planet and for some cheap ass promise of paradise. I've heard it all before." I shook my head. "It's never what they say it is, Cas. One mans paradise is another mans Hell, and you know that I know all about Hell."

"Dean..."

"No, you spineless, son of a bitch. I'm done. We're done here."

The room was empty again, and I fell to the floor. I closed my eyes, wishing I could reach out to Ava. To pray to her like I could to the angels. Baby if you can hear me, I'm so sorry. I did what I thought was right, but I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong... again.

I hit my head against the wall a few times, wishing for some clarity that I knew wouldn't come. It couldn't come. Sam was going to die hunting Lilith. The world was going to burn. I wouldn't see Nel grow up, or kiss Ava again. When was our last kiss? I couldn't even remember.

Great.

Squeak. I opened an eye, to see Cas shuffling across the floor in his cheap, brown dress shoes. They made this annoying rubber sound against the tile. "What are you doing here? I told you to go. God, let me just be miserable in peace."

Cas ignored me, rushing to the wall, he took a blade and sliced open his hand. I stood up slowly as he started painting in his own blood. "What are you?"

Zachariah poofed in, almost as if an alarm went off saying Hello Castiel is rebelling, again, wee woo wee woo. "Castiel what do you think you're doing?"

Cas turned to Zachariah, holding his hand up to the sigil. The same one Anna had drawn so long ago. "I'm choosing honor,” he said before pressing his palm to the sigil, sending Zachariah flying out of the room.

"Cas?"

"He won't be gone long. We have to find Sam now,” he said, his hand wound already healed.

"Where is he?" I asked, rushing to him.

"I don't know," Cas shook his head. "But I know who does. We have to stop him, Dean, from killing Lilith."

I frowned. "But Lilith's gonna break the final seal."

He shook his head, grabbing my forearm with a strength that I wouldn't expect from such a little guy. "Lilith is the final seal. She dies, the end begins."

—————

Chapter Thirty-One, We Would Always End Here

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