#originally were facing away but i thought that was lame | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prentissluvr · 4 months

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something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years.

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.”

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours.

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have.

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up.

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch.

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed.

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel.

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat.

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand.

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love.

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips.

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap.

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth.

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible.

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

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lovelybarnes · 24 days

Text

dog tags- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: language? umm crimes about: rewrite!! wanted to get back into writing and i thought rewriting some of my favorite prompts would be fun, PF12 “committing crimes” + DH8 “how dumb can you be?” a/n: hello! i meant to post this like. five days ago LMAO but i started school and should be doing work right now and i came up with a false memory claiming i did, in fact post, when i, in fact, did not. anyway. here it is. i don't know how much better it is than the original but i had fun writing it, though, surprise! i still suck at endings. ummm i am thinking or rewriting more to get back into the groove and i am writing an actual new request. this got long okay thank you

"We're going to get caught."

You shoot Bucky a look, nose wrinkled. "You are so negative," you say, legs kicking as you climb over a fence. "We are not going to get caught." You watch as he leaps from the ground, metal hand grasping the top of the fence and launching his body over it cleanly. He lands crouched and stable, watching you slowly turn your body over the ledge and subsequently topple onto the ground.

"We're gonna go to jail," he sighs, bending over to hoist you onto your feet by your armpits. Your hair has leaves in it.

"Oh my god." You stumble, hands wrapping around his arms from the speed. "How the fuck do you—"

You shriek when Bucky spins you around to press your back against his chest and clamps a palm over your mouth, gentle even through the fingers keeping your lips shut. Your eyes widen cartoonishly, flailing as he manhandles you behind a shrub. You're still complaining to the best of your ability when he shushes you, directing your attention to the woman walking out of the house.

You quiet down and stare, brows furrowed. She's not supposed to be there.

It's like Bucky can read your mind, glancing at you with a sigh. You try your best to give him a look back before looking at the woman again. She has a phone pressed against her ear, lips moving angrily. Her voice upticks sharply with the end of each word she says.

You relax when you realize there isn't a chance of you getting caught, kind of wishing you had popcorn to watch her nearly trip over her heels and become even more furious, kicking at the grass. Bucky's silent enough for you to seriously doubt you'd know he was there had he not been tightly wrapped around you. You squeak at the fact, impressed. Bucky pinches your side unhelpfully.

She unlocks her car, keys tinkling harshly with her movements. Bucky finally abates when she throws her door open and sinks inside her white Jaguar, the slamming door narrowly missing her pin-straight blonde hair.

You gag, pushing his hand away. "When was the last time you washed your fucking hands? That's disgus-"

"I thought the house was empty," he interrupts, head cocked.

"I thought it was, too," you defend lamely. "She's off schedule. Maybe that's why she was so pissed. Late to her HOES meeting or whatever."

"What the hell is HOES?"

"I don't know!" you cry. "The one with the lawns."

"Are you trying to say the HOA?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "James Buchanan showing his face?"

"This is not-" He sighs your name, "I swear, if any more of your information isn't right, I'm leaving."

You make an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You were not invited."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't die or get sued or go to jail. Which, hey, really likely in a neighborhood that has 'HOES' meetings."

"I'm not gonna 'die' or go to 'jail,'" you insist, finger quotes up and perplexing Bucky. "I don't need your help, anyway, I'm a very capable person with a very capable plan. You just followed me. You're some guy's little brother."

"What?"

"You know. Annoying."

Bucky breathes in slow, watching you creep around the bush for a better angle of the house. He closes his eyes and counts to three, and when he opens them, you're at the porch, tiptoeing like a fuckin' cartoon character into the house and leaving the door open. Spectacular.

He sprints inside inconspicuously, head darting both ways just in case before he closes the door. When he turns, there's an alarm system set up that lazily blinks green. No disturbances. Huh. He glances at you, impressed for a very quick second when he sees you snooping in a cabinet, clueless to the huge dog growling behind you.

He stills immediately, breath slowing. He stares at you and tries his best to make you feel it, but it either goes wrong or he fails entirely when you drop a file, groaning loudly at the injustice of it. The dog twitches. Bucky's heart jumps into his throat.

You're halfway into an inelegant bend when you spot him, face breaking into a smile. Fuck, he thinks. You're pretty even when you're going insane. "Hey! You're finally here. Look at—"

He shoots you a warning look, moving his lips as little as he can. "There's a dog." He glances between it and you, thinking every move ahead to avoid a nasty bite and the failure of your stupid mission.

"Oh my god, Brutus?" You spin too fast, startling the dog both from with your movements and apparent knowledge of his name. 'Brutus' makes a noise between a growl and a whine. You gasp, a palm pressing against your lips. "Brutus, I thought they retired you!"

You drop down to your knees, opening your arms wide. Brutus stares at you for a second, inching closer to sniff you apprehensively. Then, his ears tuck and he whimpers, tail tucked and wagging gently as he walks closer to you.

"You... know the dog."

"Yes, I know the dog," you start, voice careening into a higher, softer pitch as you rub the pads of your fingers behind Brutus' ears. "Brutus has been the guard dog here for two years. I fostered her for a little while until she was adopted but I kept in touch." Brutus licks your cheek, making you squeal. "Her name was originally Poppy but they wanted a scary name." You roll your eyes.

Bucky shoots you a look.

"I sort of spied on them for a few months to make sure she was doing well," you rub her ear, "and she was, yes she was," you baby-talk. "Her owners have shit values but they really spoil their dogs."

"Wow. Okay. One question—the people we are stealing from know you?"

"Yeah, they have my number."

Bucky pinches the skin between his brows.

"Good girl, Poppy, protecting the house from evil intruders," you coo.

Bucky looks at the clock and then you, slowly lowering yourself further to pet Brutus-Poppy. He nudges you with his foot. Poppy growls at him. "Hey. Fellow evil intruder. She's gonna be back at some point."

"Not for another hour at least. Nat's in charge of the distraction." Still, you press a loud kiss to Poppy's head and stand.

"I'm an overachiever. Let's leave ample time."

"Fine," you say loudly, arms swinging petulantly at your side. "I'll make it quick. You're such a bore."

"Yeah, yeah. What are we looking for anyway?"

You use a pencil to look between books and couch cushions, humming distractedly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Buck." You wink.

Bucky's cheeks pink against his will, shaking it off as quickly as he can as he watches you look around. You pause in the middle of the room, do a full spin, and sigh. "Not here."

Bucky frowns but trails after you into another room, Poppy close behind. You open the door grandiosely to a giant room. "Wow."

"Okay, I know what you said, but you kind of need to tell me so I can help you find it," he says. You ignore him, striding toward a desk and pulling open a drawer. He says your name exasperatedly. You observe a notebook, shaking it vigorously before tossing it over your shoulder. Other items follow in quick succession, which he catches amidst his frustration. "What are you—you're going to break something—" He catches a crystal ball.

"I'm not, I know what I'm doing," you insist. "You are so pessimistic. Have faith." You dig in a little further before grumbling, rising to your feet and kicking a chair down. "I'm going to look in another room," you say and take off, leaving Bucky with an armful of miscellaneous objects to put back. He screws his eyes shut and counts to three.

You walk down the hallway quickly, peeking into the rooms until you find what you're looking for. Three doors in, you stop, scanning the walls until you find a hideous painting hung up next to a dusty bookshelf. You make a triumphant noise and stride toward it, running your fingers along the frame until you find the indentations of a security panel.

"Aha! And, if I remember correctly..." You enter 1234 and the painting swings open to reveal a safe. "Losers."

You count silently as you unlock the safe, laughing in triumph when you beat Natasha's record. Keeping the door open with an outstretched finger, you contort to find a pen, holding the cap between your teeth as you scrawl your time on the inside of your wrist, giggling in the anticipation of letting her know.

You turn your attention back to the safe after you've written a few wobbly exclamation points, rifling around until you find what you're looking for. Your fingers dig through a dark box filled with stolen valuables, a grin on your face when your fingers get tangled in the one you're looking for, eyebrows jumping in satisfaction as you tuck it safely into your pocket. You stick your head in the safe again, searching for something shiny to throw in Sam's face when Bucky bursts in.

"Oh, hey, do you think Sam would—"

"They're here."

Cursing, you shove everything into place, closing the safe and carefully moving the picture back. You step back and grimace. "God, that's ugly."

He says your name urgently, wrapping his hand around your wrist and dragging you away, throwing you over his shoulder when you keep lagging behind. You squeak, clamping your mouth shut when Bucky squeezes your thigh in warning.

He dumps you out of an open window and into a bush, rolling himself out onto cropped grass. "Okay, I think that was unnecessary," you mumble, crawling out next to him. There are lines of bubbling red all over your skin from what was apparently a rose bush.

"We have to hurry before the gate closes," he huffs, lifting the both of you up with ease and hurrying to the slimming entrance. You squeeze out unseen and stop at the beginning of the blind spot you came in through. Bucky's huffing when he puts you down.

"What's wrong? I thought you had super high stamina or something," you tease, poking at his shoulder. Bucky glares at you. You laugh and reach for his hand, beckoning him enticingly with your fingers. He appeases you suspiciously, capturing your hand in his. He squeezes and rubs a soft line up and down near your thumb.

"Let's go home," you say.

Bucky blinks. "What?"

"Let's go home. I'm hungry. And I kind of want to take a nap. Can we stop by and pick up some ramen?" You tug at his arm gently, beginning the trek to Bucky's bike down the path without surveillance. "Breaking and entering really wears me out," you say to his furrowed brows.

"Don't forget robbery," he muses.

"Right. Breaking, entering, and robbery really wears me out," you say with a laugh. You turn to him and grin, eyes sparkling.

Bucky stops, staying in place when you pull at him and whine. "What was it?"

You cock your head.

"What did you want to steal so badly?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll tell you if you give me a piggyback ride," you proffer, wagging your brows.

Bucky rolls his eyes but crouches down, holding onto your index finger as you climb onto his back.

He readjusts you as he stands to full height, wrists twisting under your knees and holding your calves tight but kindly. You hum, one arm falling over his chest and the other dipping into your pocket, unzipping it and taking out the chain. You wrap it around your fingers delicately and rest your chin on his head, looking at it dangling from your hands.

Bucky begins to walk. "So?"

Your thumb draws wonky hearts on Bucky's chest, tracing the letters on the tags with your other one. "Do you remember how disappointed you were when you came back and your dog tags had been auctioned off? It was the one thing you couldn't get back because it wasn't in that museum." You feel Bucky nod. "Well, I've been looking for them," you confess, pursing your lips. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd tell me to stop and that it didn't matter but I know it did—I know it does.

"A few months ago, I found out who bought them and I tried to buy them back, but these assholes wouldn't budge no matter how much I offered—or anyone, I impersonated a lot of people. I think they just wanted to keep them because other people wanted them. And the things they said about you..." You shake your head, feeling yourself going hot with anger.

Bucky squeezes your leg, muttering your name.

You stop yourself, letting your face slant so your cheek rests on his hair. He smells sweet like your shampoo. Fucker. "So, anyway, I did the obvious thing: I tracked them down and broke into their house to get it back. It's not like the tags are theirs, anyway."

Bucky stops abruptly, jolting you. You yelp, complaining as he puts you down and stares at you.

"You did—this was to get my dog tags?"

You look back at him. "Yes? I didn't—"

He cuts you off, pulling you into a hug so tight, you cough. Your arms hang limply in surprise for a second before they come up to reciprocate, a dazed but still eager arm rubbing the line of his shoulder blade. Bucky hugs you a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I don't think anyone... I don't know many people that would do that for me."

"Oh," you say, blinking fast. "I—of course I would. I love you, Bucky, you... I would do anything for you."

"Fuck," he says wetly, pulling away to hold your face in both hands. He smiles at you. One of those real ones that crinkle his eyes. "You're—fuck—"

You laugh, his hands falling away to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't get them back after you went through all that trouble."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean? You think I didn't get them?" You raise your hand to his view, dog tags dangling. "Your faith in me is shocking."

Bucky grabs the tags and you let them go easily, watching his hands turning them around slowly, index running along his name. JAMES B. BARNES. Then, two lines down, R. BARNES. "I can't believe you did this for me," he says softly.

You smile. "Well, believe it, baby," you tell him, gently teasing. Your wring your hands together. "Of course I did," you say, quieter.

When he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. "Thank you." He glances down at them once more and splits the chain with a finger to pull it on your neck. "Hold on to them for me?"

You pause. "Bucky..."

"Just until we get to the compound. You'll keep it safe for me."

You keep it safe for much longer than that.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader humor #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes no y/n #bucky x reader #angie writes bucky barnes #angie writes #angie rewrites

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chrissturniolosbiggestslut · 3 months

Text

— HOW U FEEL?

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

in which:

chris's favorite thing about you is your eyes, and he makes sure you know it.

(i hate to admit it but i actually hate this and my vision did not go as planned so)

warnings: literally none, pure tooth-rotting fluff

"every time i look in your eyes, i look away mesmerized and you shine brighter than the stars that decorate the night sky," - destroy lonely; how u feel? 0:26-0:33.

**NOT PROOFREAD**

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

one of your favorite things about you and chris's relationship was that you both were very lovey, cuddly people once you got comfortable. the two of you couldn't even manage to go a single day without some form of physical touch; whether that be chris's hand in the back pocket of your jeans, or him atop of you with your hands carding through his hair peacefully.

in fact, that's exactly where you two find yourselves right now. chris was laying on top of you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist with his head on your stomach. your hands ran through his dark hair, scratching his scalp softly every so often. you heard the boy hum in satisfaction, smiling softly at the vibrations that tickled your body.

nick looked over at you two, a disgusted look covering his face. "so are we gonna fucking do anything or are the two of you just gonna be lame whores all day?" he asks. though nick acts absolutely sick at you and chris's relationship, you both know that he actually thinks you two are adorable; he's admitted to it many times.

chris shook his head against you, wrapping his arms tighter than you thought he could. "im actually pretty comfortable right now, nick. so, no thanks. keep playing with my hair baby," he mutters. you laugh, placing your hand back in his hair.

matt scoffs, "i wish you guys weren't so boring now," he states, eliciting a face from you.

"shut the fuck up, matt. you're just mad that you're single… and a virgin."

at that, matt whips his body around, his eyes wide. "i am not!"

you tilt your head in amusement, smirking at the boy. "is that so? because last time i checked-" you look down, twisting sections of chris's hair around your finger.

"y/n shut your mouth," matt demands, returning back to his original position, embarrassed.

chris sits up from atop of you, "k, can you two leave my room now?" chris asks his siblings, but he's not exactly asking; more so demanding.

nick rolls his eyes, standing up from the end of the bed and walking out, not before shouting "boo you whores!" in the doorframe. matt's next to stand up from chris's chair, leaving without a word and shutting the door behind him.

you look down at chris as he looks up at you. he's gone back to laying on top of you, his chin on your stomach as he admires you. you smile softly, "y'know, you didn't have to kick them out."

the boy completely ignores your comment, "your eyes are so pretty. did ya'know that i love your eyes? they're just so beautiful; they compliment your face so well," he rambles, a soft pink coating his cheeks the longer he looks at you.

your cheeks seem to return the favor, your smiles grows and soon enough your cheesing at the boy. you turn to the side to hide your face in a pillow. "stop!" you squeal.

he smiles, "what? i mean they're just perfect. your eyelashes too. i don't know how i got so lucky, ma. you're just perfect."

you can almost feel the burning heat in your cheeks, turning back to face him, shoving his face away with your palm. "shut up," you reply simply.

chris puts his hands up in defense, "my fault that i managed to bag the most perfect-ist bitch there is!"

you raise an eyebrow at him, looking at the boy with a warning look. he stutters, "i- i mean the most perfect-ist woman there is," he scratches the back of his neck.

"yeah that's what i thought. also it's not perfect-ist you moron idiot. did you learn anything in school?"

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #smut #Spotify

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faeriekit · 6 months

Text

Down and Out

phic phight prompts taken from @sillysugargliders and @akela-nakamura

“Technowizard!” Tuck declared, pointing up towards the glass ceiling. The ratty Hack-A-Thon tee-shirt and Star Wars print pants did not an imposing outfit make.

Sam’s avocado-coated face barely even looked up from her phone. “Lame.”

“The Finest Pharoah!” Tucker tried again, glaring straight down at Sam as he posed again— this time, with his other hand.

“Cringe,” was Sam’s bland contribution.

Tucker threw both his hands in the air in sheer exasperation, narrowly avoiding sending Sheila2 flying up into the air with them. “The— oh shoot— the Tech Menace! The Electric Enemy!”

“Makes you sound like a bit-rate villain,” Sam drawled, finishing out her level of tetris with perfect accuracy. She clicked off the phone before she could get suckered in. “Tucker, have you considered any good names? At all?”

Fair revenge was fair revenge, and Tucker didn’t want to waste his own pillow on vengeance. Using Sam’s bamboo-woven pillowcase against her facemask was fair game— and her shriek of rage over the smeared facemask was just desserts.

Tucker eventually lost, of course, smothered underneath the very same pillow he’d assaulted his friend with, but hey; he’d given it his all, and that was what mattered in the end.

Winning would be nice, though. You know. One day.

In the meantime, though, they were squatting in Sam’s greenhouse, reclining on air mattresses on recycled wooden palettes. It was kind of cold— Tucker was glad Sam had thought ahead and brought blankets— but there were no bugs, and there was no rain, even if there were frogs singing bleakly outside glass walls throughout the night.

Sam was good at pretending it didn’t bother her.

Tucker knew it had to, though. Sam was used to having things. Being comfortable. Having her bamboo toothbrush and toothpaste tabs at the ready, with her natural fiber blankets and her desktop computer and a credit card that would solve the majority of her problems.

Instead they had used the cheapest versions of everything at the dollarstore. Abrasive discount soap. Deodorant with added aluminum. They’d brushed their teeth at the spigot where the hose screwed on, and tomorrow they’d wash with the hose the same way.

Card could be traced. Tucker was the only one who’d been carrying cash in the moment.

Man, Tucker thought, tunnelling himself under his blankets. Running away sucked. At least the only thing Tucker had to miss was his parents. And his spare parts.

…He hoped his parents weren’t looking for him. The "proper authorities" had probably already informed them he was infected. They should…they should hopefully know that being gone was safer than being there.

Sam’s black-nailed thumb and green-coated face peeked at him from under the covers. Without his glasses, she mostly looked like a blob, so Tucker just waved. He wanted to be social. He wanted to be happy.

It felt like everything was falling apart through his fingers, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“Hey,” Sam said. “If you want to charge your tech, I’m out of the plug.”

It was a sweet gesture. “Thanks,” was all Tucker could say. But he didn’t want to leave his cave.

Sam, of all people, knew what level of trust the gesture meant when Tucker gave his phone over to her. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to; it was the same level of trust Sam was showing to him by letting them stay here, together, instead of apart, the way Jazz had originally planned.

Running away properly would have been safer. But here, in this moment, they were warm, and safe, and somewhat fed.

Tucker stuck his face into his pillow and thought It doesn’t get much better than this.

…Man, it was supposed to be roast beef dinner tonight. He was missing out!

“...I still think that Technowizard is a cool name,” Tucker grumbled to himself. Sam shot him a fond, if exasperated look.

“No.”

“Fine, bossy. What did you pick?”

“Foxglove,” Sam replied simply. “Most famous poisonous plant in the Western world. It’s poetic.”

Tucker thought on it. It…had merit, but… “You know people are going to shorten it to Foxy, right?”

Sam paused.

…She set her phone down with clear disgust. “Ugh. I hate that you’re right.”

“I’ll never let you down,” Tucker offered, very seriously. “I’m always right.”

Sam pulled the blanket back down over him until he squawked in indignation.

“Okay,” Sam’s voice came in muffled through their blanket barrier. “Maybe we can both hold off on names until we decide how we’re doing this, exactly.”

This, of course, being their new life on the run— ideally, taking down the GIW and their hold on Amity Park, or in the short run, cutting and ditching in every effort to not get captured. Their plan so far wasn’t much better than “wait for Danny to get home from Space Camp”, but, you know…needs are as they must. Or something.

“How about Cryptid?” Tucker offered, poking his head out of his blanket hovel. His glasses were…somewhere, but no matter where he groped for them, his hands still came up empty. “Short. Simple. Lots of hard consonants. Easy to muddy up in an internet search with other information. They’d be looking for you and find, like, the Entfield Horror.”

Sam gave that thought its due while Tucker found his glasses. “It’s…better than Inviso-Bill for sure.”

Okay, that one was worth the laugh.

“You could try Technomage,” Sam tried out in turn. "It would be like naming a snake 'snake', since you’re going through magical puberty or whatever, but…”

Tucker snorted. Magical puberty.

…But.

She’d been the first to notice when Tucker hadn’t even needed to touch Edna (PDA of the month) to write her new programs in class. She’d taped over his stylus to prove it to him— and Tucker hadn’t even noticed with the weight of a phantom stylus in his hand as he coded telepathically. Realizing he hadn’t been tapping any of the buttons had been. Spooky.

His phone didn’t need a SIM card anymore. He was saving his family a lot on outgoing and ingoing calls, apparently, and the reported number of texts they’d had to pay for was a big fat goose egg.

Also, he was pretty sure someone was emailing him at the moment.

…He wasn’t sure how he knew. But. It kind of tasted like blue raspberry. It was probably Danny’s sister.

So. Um. the magical puberty thing hadn’t been too off track. It had certainly been less subtle than Sam’s newfound ability to speak with plants, but…at least talking to your flowerpots looks normal from the outside looking in.

Apparently lawn mowing day at school gave Sam real trauma, though. Finding her in the nurses’ office with her head buried under her denim jacket had been scary.

“Better than nothing,” Tucker begrudgingly agreed. He left his glasses wherever they were; he’d find them in the morning. “I mean. We technically don’t even need names. If we just start breaking their stuff, they’ll probably name us anyway.”

Sam laughs. The green on her face is gone; she likely wiped her mask off when Tucker couldn’t see. “With you hacking their stuff?”

“And you growing your freaky vines out of their gear,” Tucker added. “The…what’s the one. The one that ate that one house?”

Sam leans her head down onto Tucker’s mattress. Her clean, damp face swims into view. “Oh. The kudzu?”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, I can cultivate that— not here, since it grows so fast. Did you know Kudzu’s supposed to be eaten? People usually take it off the roadside in China for an easy food source. That’s why it overtakes so much stuff here: there’s no one taking on the role of its natural predator.”

Huh. Well, sounded like something Sam would know. Tucker wedged his pillow further underneath his head; Sam’s still had some goop on it, so he gave her his extra blanket instead.

Sam stuffed it underneath her head with no issue. Without her purple lip and filled in brows, she just looked like Sam— just like a girl in his class, who wanted to make the world a better place, and didn’t know how to do it.

Tucker wanted to do better too.

But they wouldn’t do it alone. They’d be better off with Danny than without.

“All we have to do is make it until Danny comes back. And then we can reconvene.”

…And then what?

“And then?” Tucker asked, a little too quiet.

Sam had never backed down from a challenge. She never would. “And then we kick ass.”

Well. When she said that, it was all so simple.

The lights clicked out in the greenhouse, and just in time— the outside started to burst with light and sound as agents tore up the road outside the Manson property.

The door was locked. The daisies at the door and the wispy strings-of-hearts would give them more than enough warning if the agents swept through.

It was bedtime, or good enough as.

Sleep wasn’t restful, but the quality of the night didn’t matter; it only had to get them to the next day.

#phic phight 2024 #danny phantom #Phic phight #tucker foley #Sam Manson #ambiguous timeline when they're on the run from the GIW! 🎉#Danny's fine he's just out of town #'where' space camp. he's on a break #giw as a bad guy with local regulatory power #fill

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anyarose011 · 4 months

Text

December Never Felt So Wrong {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: You didn't want to go anymore; not after what just happened in your room with Angus. Still, you had to. In the end...well, happy birthday, Jesus; sorry your party was so lame.

Part 6 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, in depth discussions of grief, mention of character death.

The song is for you theatre kids; yes, there is a Christmas album of the cast of Hadestown. While I love the original, the one with Reeve Carney and Eva Noblezada hits different. I think this was my favorite one to write so far; especially with the interactions with Mary and Elise. Also, lol, possible interpretation of reader's character having a thing for Elise? Again, it's all up to you, but just wanted to say that. Also, part 3 of not being able to escape being an awkward/moody teenager because it's a fanfiction. Anywho, hope you guys cry, but it'll be worth it :)

Word Count: 6.1k

youtube

You dared not look at Angus the whole drive to Miss Crane’s house. Even when getting into the car, you avoided his gaze like Lot did Sodom and Gomorrah. There was no way, after he was more than likely going to kiss you (or you him), could you even acknowledge his existence.

But why did you stop yourself from kissing him?

No matter, as your father drove all of you to Miss Crane’s house, you managed to block out that question which clawed at your mind. The door was unlocked when you four arrived at seven, and you filtered in. The house was still heavily decorated in Christmas paraphernalia like you had seen it days ago when you were with Elise. Yet, with how many people were gathered on just the first floor alone, it almost felt as if you were entering a stranger’s house.

Well…not exactly.

Truth be told, this was neither you nor your father’s first Christmas party with Miss Crane. You went with your mother to only one before she passed, and even though Miss Crane would still hold out invitations for you and your father…neither of you ever went. Elise and her aunt would understand of course, especially in the first years after your mother passed; Christmas is always a complicated time after the death of a loved one.

“You made it!” Miss Crane’s voice of gratitude and her gently clutching your arm broke your thoughts. “Welcome. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

She had looked at Mary once you nodded with a smile, and Mary mirrored her. “We’re happy to be here. Where should I put these?”

Miss Crane lifted the cover of the brownies Mary was holding at and gasped before taking the tray. “Those I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

Mary laughed. “Oh, you’re a wicked woman!”

“You have no idea.”

“Certainly a lot of people here!”

Leave it to your father for that to be the first thing he says. Still, Miss Crane took it in stride.

“Yeah, yeah, some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

She spent her time pointing out all of her family members (some you remembered, most you had no idea who they were), and you were honestly blanking out. Up until you saw a familiar face.

“Elise!” You cheered as if she was your guardian angel. You hadn’t even noticed Angus wandered off to stare at a snow globe until you saw him visibly flinch upon your exclamation.

Your friend laughed as you embraced her. “Nice to see you too.”

“It’s been forever!”

“It’s been two days.”

The adults around you merely chuckled, and once again, it was Miss Crane who spoke up. “This is Angus Tully, he’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise.”

Neither of you had pulled away from each other during this whole introduction and were merely still wrapped in each other’s arms as if it were normal. Still, it did not escape you how, once Elise and Angus’ eyes met, it was as if you weren’t there.

“Niece Elise.” He nodded, smiling. “Nice.”

And it seemed like he felt the same. So, there you were, between them in a strange physical and emotional sense. Of course, you were selfish, so you couldn’t revel in the discomfort for long.

“You must forgive him.” You said to Elise but loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s so simple minded, he finds rhymes to be most intriguing.”

She giggled, shaking her head, and Angus rolled his eyes. “Can you go one night without being mean to me?”

“Fitzwilliam,” you smiled, pulling away from Elise. “you’re asking me not to breathe.”

Your father intervened. “Alright you two; no need to fight when we’ve barely gotten through the door.”

Miss Crane tapped his shoulder, looking back at Elise. “This is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?”

“Ancient Civilizations.” He said.

It seemed like her words fell on deaf ears to you, Elise, and Angus. The way they were looking at each other…how Elise would glance at everyone only for her eyes to land back on Angus, and how it was the same for him too…

Neither of them ever looked at you though; only at each other.

Miss Crane called your name, and then Elise’s. “Why don’t you take Angus to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition? Do you remember?” She asked you.

You were honestly so discombobulated, you could only huff. “Good lord, it’s been years.”

“Oh hush, you remember.” Elise teased. “Come on.”

She led you and Angus down to the basement, and you both followed. It was almost frightening how much whiplash you’d gotten just from taking one step down the stairs and was immediately met with Holly Jolly Christmas and the smell of glue. Several kids, as young as five and as old as eleven, sat down at the tables you sat at only once, creating what they deemed to be works of art.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” Angus chuckled.

It was normal for someone to laugh at it. Hell, you knew he was laughing with it, but this was the most he had been on your nerves all week (for many reasons you were too bothersome to list).

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties.” Elsie smiled, tilting her head to you. “She was only here once, but I still think the pieces we’ve made should be hung in the National Gallery, don’t you agree?” She said your name.

You put on a smile. “For sure.”

“I think it’s kind of cool.” She said. “There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

She could study Art History, perfect her French, move to Paris and work as a tour guide in the Louvre. That was a dream she told you she had ever since you were children; but yet there she was, throwing it all away to flirt with a boy she had just met.

One who wasn’t even attractive at that (not the first lie you told yourself that night).

“Picasso’s cool.” Angus immediately said. “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse?”

He attempted to pose like the painting you wish you could see, and it was so dreadful you didn’t know which one was worse; that or him and Elise’s incessant talking about the stupid painting at the stupid Museum of Modern Art in stupid New York City. So, to spare yourself, you immediately ducked into a small table of little girls; something you thought you would do only if you were held at knife point.

Still…they were actually sweet, surprisingly. You all would ramble about meaningless things, which perhaps made it all the more meaningful when you would laugh at the stories they told you; whether it was something tame that happened in kindergarten, or what a third grade girl said to you.

“Boys are stupid.”

You nodded. “That they are. Although, I’ve found that a few of them are nice.”

“I said they’re stupid, not mean.”

“Well, they can be. But again,” you reiterated. “they can be sweet.”

“Not like my daddy.” A six-year-old girl spoke up, drawing on her paper plate with a purple crayon shorter than your temper around some men. “Mama says she ‘put him in the doghouse’. Which is weird, we don’t even have a dog, why would we make a house for him?”

You fought every part of yourself to not laugh. So, you merely smiled politely. “That does seem rather unusual.”

“You talk funny.” One of the older girls said.

“So do you.” Was your reply.

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

You were about to continue the ridiculous chain until you heard Elise laugh. Your head immediately snapped to see how she and Angus were hunched over some paper with their hands completely covered in paint. It was like the aftermath of a car crash; you couldn’t look away no matter how much you knew deep down it would only hurt you to keep watching.

She had that look in her eyes you rarely ever had with boys, and although you were practically on the other side of the room from them, you could cut the tension with a knife if you had one; and proceed to stab yourself like Juliet.

Then, like you knew she would, Elise kissed him.

That’s what made you tear your gaze away, and you took your father’s advice from long ago: once you felt sick, you ran away.

Your chest was constricting by the time you got up the stairs, and you wanted to say it was because of going up them so quickly, but it wasn’t. Hell, it wasn’t fully because of seeing them kiss, it was a little, but there was something else; what, you had no idea.

This was all your own fault anyway; you told her from the start you didn’t like him (you didn’t, what’s made you change?) and that she’d probably like him (they’d be good for each other too; she’s sweet, he’s not, they’d balance each other out).

Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart, you decided that whatever was weighing on your shoulders, you weren’t going to let it ruin the rest of your night; Angus and Elise be damned. You decided to people watch to soothe our worries and create imaginary stories for each and every person that passed your way; a game you and your mother played whenever you went out.

There was an older man with his wife, both perhaps in their early nineties. They met in Boston by chance, he had grown up there, she was from Wyoming perhaps and wanted to experience a city to the east that wasn’t New York.

A woman just a little older than you sat by herself with a drink in her hand. She told herself and everyone else she’s content with just sitting against the wall, watching the room be full of life, and she genuinely meant it.

Your father…oh! He was talking with Miss Crane, and it seemed to be going well.

So, to give him privacy, you decided to further wander around the house. All seemed well as Christmas carols played throughout the halls, until you reached the kitchen.

There, hunched over in the corner with her shoes off, was Mary Lamb, trembling. You felt your soul leave your body, and your eyes met Danny (you hadn’t even known he was there until you saw him move towards you).

“I…” He began. “Do you want to try to talk to her?”

All you could do was nod, approaching her. “Mary?”

She shook her head, not saying a word. You stood beside her and saw as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Your breath shuttered with hers; you already knew. Even without her having to tell you, you already knew.

“Do…do you want me to get my dad?” You asked meekly.

Mary didn’t say anything. You just looked at Danny and nodded. Turning on your heel, your chest wasn’t constricting, but you felt like there was something rotten within your stomach. Something so rotten only a parasite would find it delicious and decide to eat every part of you.

Which is of course when you would quite literally bump into Angus Tully coming back up from the basement.

“Hey,” he greeted with the biggest smile on his face. “thought you got lost, where-?” Just as he saw your fallen face, his did as well. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling tears spring into your eyes. “Where’s my dad?”

“What happened?” He softened his voice and it only made you want to tear him apart.

Shaking your head, you asked again. “Where is he? I…”

He said your name, repeating his question. “What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you only said. “Mary…”

Angus nodded, not needing anything else. “I’ll go find him.”

You turned back to the kitchen, waiting with bated breath and arms crossed. Your father and Angus came in soon after, seeing Mary the exact same way you saw her over the kitchen counter.

“Mary?” Your father asked gently. “Mary, are you all right?”

“Just leave me alone.” She grumbled.

Danny placed a hand on her back. “Want me to take you home?”

“Back off!” She hissed, turning around. “Back off.”

Your father shut the door as she cried, and you felt shame that you couldn’t even pick your gaze up from the floor while it all happened.

“He’s gone.” She sobbed, and that was all it took for everyone to decide to go home.

Your throat was clogged with emotion the whole time, and you felt bad for asking to say goodbye to Elise as Mary clung to your father and Angus.

“Just make it quick.” Your dad said, and you didn’t even take time to nod, sprinting back to the basement.

It was as if nothing changed, and she smiled up at you once you came down the stairs.

“So?” Her face was all aglow as if you had something good to tell her.

“I…” you swallowed. “We have to go.”

“What?”

“Mary uh, her son…well…” Why couldn’t you just say it?!

Elise nodded. “Oh…I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I’m just sorry we have to go; I was having fun.”

She tilted her head to the side, her gentle smile being a dead giveaway, she knew you were lying. But, to not bring that up, you tried another tactic.

“So…Angus.”

Elise shook her head, laughing. “He’s nice and smart too; I can see why you’re friends with him.”

You cringed. “I wouldn’t really say that.”

She said your name, a little more serious. “I know something’s bothering you. I don’t know if it’s with Mary or Angus, but please just tell me.”

It was a lot of things; not being able to go to Copenhagen, Teddy Kountze and Jason Smith being sorry excuses for men, the damn letters, Angus Tully telling your father about the damn letters, Angus Tully in general, the stupid Christmas party and…and…

“I’m…I’m glad you like him.”

No, it wasn’t that but that’s all your mouth could form.

She nodded. “I do, but now after meeting him in person,” she shrugged. “just a friend. Not even really, I barely know him. I don’t know why you’d think he’d be my type.”

“You kissed him.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean ‘yeah’?!” You cried. “Don’t lie to me and say you didn’t even have the tiniest crush on him.”

“Like how you’re lying to me right now?”

That was uncalled for (in your mind at the time, in actuality, yeah it was called for). “What?”

“I asked you what’s bothering you, but you’re not telling me.” She looked annoyed now, and that was worse than if she was fuming. “Look, unless you like killed someone, it can’t be that bad.”

Swallowing thickly, you took a few moments to try your best to recover yourself. Saying hesitantly. “I…I think I’m being stupid.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t want you to leave me for some dumb boy.”

She stared at you, and you were surprised how quickly she responded despite the astonished look on her face. “First of all, not going to happen-.”

“-You say that now.”

“Let me finish, please. Second of all, you’re not stupid because of that; not for anything, mind you.”

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and leaned against the wall of the basement, Judy Garland singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in your ears. “I don’t know why I’m making a big deal about it.”

“It’s normal.” She leaned with you. “Half of my friend group back home ditched me to spend more time with their boyfriends. What’s funny is that some of them have a new one every month.”

“It shouldn’t be normal.”

“It shouldn’t,” She shook her head. “and for the record, I meant it’s normal to freak out about it. I want you to know thought that I won’t do that, and you better not either.”

“Never.” You chuckled. “Besides, a boy has to like me first for that to happen.”

Elise grinned as if she was the Chesire Cat from Alice in Wonderland

“What?” You gave her a look.

“I think you should talk to him.”

You already knew who he was, but your heart still stopped. “I…I…him?! Which him?”

“Just talk to him.”

You stood absolutely still…What the flying fuck were you supposed to do with that information?! Before you could utter another word, Elise hugged you tightly. “Merry Christmas,” she said your name so sweetly before pulling away but still holding you at arm’s length. “if you need anything, just come over; I’ll be here until after News Years.”

All you could do was nod, wishing her a ‘Merry Christmas’ and then having her walk with you up the stairs and out the door. Everyone was waiting for you in the car, and you somberly entered the other side in the back.

“Are you okay, baby?” Mary, to your surprise, was the one to ask.

“Uh huh.” Was your immediate response, nodding.

The rest of the car ride back to Barton was silent, and it began to snow.

It was the second time (two too many) you lied to Mary that winter break; you weren’t fine. You laid awake deep into the night despite the fact you couldn’t hear your father snoring anymore. You not being able to sleep only caused you more stress, which caused you not to sleep.

After tossing and turning for perhaps almost an hour, one thought made you sit up in bed.

You forgot to lay out Christmas cookies and milk.

You also forgot to make the Christmas cookies.

So, not having anything else better to do, you slipped on your shoes, stole your father’s flashlight, and snuck down into the kitchen.

You only needed the flashlight in the darkened halls, because to your surprise, the kitchen was completely illuminated. If that wasn’t enough, you saw Mary sitting at the main counter, smoking a cigarette. You stopped in the doorway, almost hiding behind the corner like you were a little girl again when you first met her.

She glanced at you, not that surprised. “What’re you doing up?”

You pursed your lips. “I wanna make Christmas cookies.”

It was stupid. Even if Santa existed, he wouldn’t bother with a stupid school, so why keep putting out cookies and milk only for you or your father to always be the one eating them and making a joke out of it Christmas morning?

Because why not?

“Okay if I help?” She asked.

A hint of a smile spread upon your lips. “If you don’t mind.”

You and Mary could tie your own aprons, but whenever you cooked together, you liked tying each other’s. You didn’t argue as she told you what ingredients to grab, and soon, after mixing together the wet and dry ingredients, then rolling the dough out, you were placing down several upon several different cookie cutters.

It all seemed well, working with only limited amount of talking but still smiling, and then, the thought that loomed in the back of your mind came forward.

“You alright?” You looked up at her and nodded without saying anything. She sighed, saying your name. “I know you’re not; and I know you weren’t after talking to miss Elise. Now, what is it?”

“Tell her.” your thoughts urged over and over again.

“I…” You sucked in a breath. “Can I ask you something? And you can tell me to fuck off if it’s-.”

“-Hey,” she interrupted. “baby Jesus is being born in half an hour, don’t use that kind of language; but yes, what is it?”

You surprised yourself by laughing briefly, then asking. “What was he like? Like…before I met him?”

Mary looked up, and for a moment you thought she was going to break down again, but she shook her head, returning back to cutting the cookies and placing them on the baking sheet. “Not much different from when you were nine and he was ten.”

“He always teased me for being two years older than me until he realized my birthday was before his,” you smiled. “then he wasn’t so old for a while.”

She nodded. “I think that was the only thing he was competitive at.”

“What was the first thing he wanted to be when he grew up?”

“Fireman.” She answered without having to think.

You grinned. “And what’d you think of that?”

“I knew he’d grow out of it.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What was little Mary like?”

She huffed, a jesting smile on her face and that was enough for you. “Young, in love, could be freer than a bird one moment, and then quiet with her nose in her Bible the next.”

“How’d you meet Curtis’ dad?”

“School,” she peeled the last residue cookie dough off the cookies. “we were in choir together.”

“Wait a minute,” You giggled, picking up one of the sheets of cookies. “you never said you were in choir!”

She took the other one, and you both walked to the preheated oven, and she opened it. “I thought that was obvious when I took you and Curtis to church?”

“We were too busy plugging our little ears.”

“Hey!” She scolded after sliding in her sheet.

“Because of Old Lady Washington!”

“I understand if her singing was like a dying cat, but she was a good woman, God rest her soul. So, you say a prayer for her right now, you nasty, rotten creature.”

Sighing heavily, you take one hand off the tray you were holding to make the sign of the cross, and mouth a prayer.

“That’s better.” Mary nodded. “You want me to put the cookies in for you?”

“I’m a big girl.” You stated proudly, but as you bent down to slide the baking sheet into the oven, you hesitated, feeling the heat already burn your fingers.

You gave it to Mary yet felt no shame doing so.

“You wanna frost them?” She asked, and you both sat down at the table, waiting for them to bake.

“No.” You shook your head. “Too tired.”

“Thank you.” Mary said. “It’s…it’s good to talk about Curtis. I think I miss you both being little the most; don’t tell your dad I said that.”

Chuckling, a memory came to mind; one you thought you would take to your grave but…perhaps it was a good time to share it.

“You know…” you trailed off, a hint of sudden uneasy but joy lacing your insides. “Shit, I’ve never told anyone this before. But…he and I were each other’s first kiss.”

“Oh, I’ve known that.” Mary answered nonchalantly. “It was the first thing he told me when he got home that night.”

“Are you kidding me?!” You laughed.

“Hey,” She said playfully. “keep it down; the men need their beauty sleep.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help your giggling. “I mean, fuck, it meant nothing; we weren’t even teenagers, we just watched it in movies, saw my mom and dad do it like once, so of course we were curious. No, no, you wanna know the best part?” Sudden laughter filled your lungs, and you could barely make a coherent sentence. “I-I had a crush on him from thirteen to fifteen, and he had a crush on me when he was ten until he was, God I don’t actually remember. He enlists months ago, not even a full year, and before he goes that’s when he tells me had liked when we were kids. It-It meant nothing, he just wanted to let me know and-!”

Mary’s hand on yours never grounded you faster. Your whole world stopped, and when you looked at her, seeing her eyes that were both concerned, but not at all shocked, your heart did as well. You dropped your head in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never be.” She squeezed your hand.

“I…” you suddenly lost your voice for a second. “I think I…I think I miss him.”

What a stupid way to say it. Of course you did, you had been ever since your father woke you up in the early morning to let you know. Still…what you knew the whole night, what the most bothersome thing that had been festering within you was:

“He’s really gone.”

“Me too.” She said softly, pulling you into a hug.

You couldn’t cry. You wanted to, God, you wanted to. You teared up this time around, but somehow, despite realizing everything all at once…no cathartic outburst, no weeping and screaming without a care in the world…

Just you and Mary Lamb, holding each other for only God knows how long.

“Oh,” Mary’s voice took you out of the peacefulness, and turned to see what she was looking at. “another one.”

There, in a white shirt and plaid pajama pants, was Angus Tully; hiding behind the corner just as you did.

“I’m surprised you managed to make your way through the school without bumping into anything.” Mary stole the comment you would’ve made if you weren’t frozen already.

Angus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and smiling. “I’m surprised neither of you heard it. What’re you doing up so late?”

He was looking at you when he asked, and you wanted to take the butter knife off the counter and gouge out his eyes to get him to stop.

Instead, all you said was. “Christmas cookies.”

“Nice.” He nodded, and the kitchen was left in a silence colder than the air outside.

Mary looked in between the both of you, before pursing her lips and untying her apron. “Well, I’m off to bed.”

“But-.” You began.

“-Angus, you’ll help take the cookies out of the oven, won’t you?” She asked him. “Little Jane Bennett’s always been scared of getting burnt.”

“Mary.” You warned, both about exposing your irrational fear, and also leaving you alone.

He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and you wanted to throw him out an open window. “For sure.”

“Alright,” she sighed in relief, then walking past him to her room. “Merry Christmas you two, and don’t stay up too late.”

“No promises.” Angus joked, turning his head. When he looked back at you, you stood a little taller as if trying to compete with his height. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I actually wanted to tell you-

“-Would you like some hot chocolate?” You sputtered out.

He blinked, taking in your question. “Yeah…yeah that sounds great. I don’t know where they keep the packets-.”

“-No, I’ll make you what my mom made me.”

…Was this your way of telling him you liked him? It could be worse; you could’ve said: ‘You’re so pretty, I want to throw a rock at you.’

Still, he smiled. “Alright then, what do we need?”

Technically, high quality chocolate, but you were at Barton; which would spend its funds on fancy buildings and overpriced textbooks, but not chocolate, which was complete bullshit.

So, the two of you stood over the stove, milk in a saucepan, a small tub of vanilla, salt, half a bag of M&Ms (courtesy of Angus Tully’s payment for waking you up the week before), whipped cream, and a full jar of milk chocolate chips.

“Why are we putting salt into hot chocolate?” He asked as you stirred the milk.

“It enhances the taste, besides, it’s just a pinch. Okay, pour in the chocolate.”

“All of it?”

“No, just…you know, my mom eyeballed it, so just don’t do all of it.”

He nodded, and you moved aside as he poured in half of the jar. You stirred it in as it quickly melted, then poured what you guessed to be a tablespoon of vanilla in. Your stirring was hypnotizing, so of course you zoned out, and didn’t even realize it until Angus brushed your bare arm.

You jumped, gaze immediately snapping to him. “What?”

He gave you a look; not one of annoyance like you expected. Well, there was a hint of that, but you quickly found out it was to mask concern. “I asked you what you thought of the party before Mary.”

“Oh…” you blinked. “Yeah, it was nice.”

Angus nodded. “You ran off at one point, what happened?”

“Bathroom; girl stuff.” You hoped that was enough to throw him off your trail, which it was.

He visibly tensed. “Oh…”

“Yeah.” you dropped your gaze back to the hot chocolate.

The only sound was the whisk hitting the saucepan as you stirred, then pulled it out to let it sit.

“So uh, is that why you’ve been acting weird this whole day?”

You slammed the whisk on the counter. “How fucking dare you!”

He flinched. “What?!”

“Is pissing blood the only good reason why I’d be like this?”

“Well, if I was, I’d be a bit impatient too.”

“You-,” you laughed, exasperated. “you’re a piece of shit.”

He clenched his jaw. “So then why are you upset?”

Avoiding his gaze, you mustered up the only other truth you could tell him. “I can’t find one of my books.”

Angus scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” You gritted your teeth. “My dad read it to me all the time as a kid, and I couldn’t find it when packing last week, so I’ve just been-.”

“-Bullshit, it can’t be that good of a book.”

“Fuck you, it’s The Little Prince!”

“Look,” He hardened his tone. “I’m not buying it. And if it’s not you being a girl that apparently makes you hate me so much today, or really any day of the week, than what is it?”

The egg timer went off with a loud ringing. You quickly shut it off, having to stop yourself from slamming it back on the counter. You took the oven mitts and opened the oven, reaching in for one of the baking sheets.

After placing down that one, you turned to get the other only to see that Angus, with a washcloth in his hand, held the other. He placed the sheet down by yours.

Throwing the oven mitts off, you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. Once you found an ounce of calmness, you said. “I know you told my dad.”

You didn’t even say what he told him, he already knew. His face fell, and it was the first time you wished it didn’t. You wished he denied it, got angry at you, hell, blame you for it somehow like so many other boys could have.

But he didn’t…he was ashamed.

Angus tucked his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “I…I was worried about you.”

Your heart stammered. “Why?”

“It…” he was confused. “What do you mean ‘why’? Some guy who your family isn’t friends with anymore was telling you to take pictures of yourself-.”

“-That’s none of your business.”

“It was for a while; not now, but that’s why I told your dad.”

You swallowed thickly, the emotion of the party, missing Curtis, and now threatening to fully break you. You shook your head. “I’m not angry at you; I’m…sorry I treated you weirdly, but…I don’t know.”

He took a deep breath. “I get it.”

You were both left in silence once again. You took a spoon out of one of the drawers, preparing yourself to taste test it. Then, to fill the empty air, you asked the only thing on your mind.

“So…Elise.”

He looked at you, then down at the counter. “What about her?”

“She’s sweet.”

“Yeah…yeah, she’s nice.”

“So,” you dragged out the ‘O’, almost having fun with teasing him about a girl as if you didn’t know how he felt about you. “do you like her?”

He furrowed his brow. “What, like, like like her?”

Giggling, you said. “Well yeah, you immature asshole.”

“I’m not immature.” He fired back, trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“And for the record, no, I don’t like her like that.”

You nodded. “Not even when she kissed you?”

His lips thinned into a line, and you never saw a man look more uncomfortable from your own doing (besides when you alluded to him not being able to pleasure a woman only yesterday when he dislocated his arm). “Yeah, even when she kissed me.”

You smiled even though you felt strange. You took the spoon and dipped it into the hot chocolate. “Was that your first?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with you.” You teased, bringing the spoon up to your lips. “You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you realized a pretty girl kissed you.”

“What if I wished it was you?”

You brought the spoon away from your lips instantly; both from how hot it was, and from what he had just admitted.

Immediately, he realized what he said, and stumbled over his words. “I-I uh, shit I didn’t-.”

“-Hot.” You interrupted, your mouth burning. “Yeah, yeah, it’s hot.”

“Oh.” He jumped back. “Uh, do you need water or-?”

“-No, no, I’m fine.” An idea (a horrid and dreadful one) came to mind when you turned off the stove and took the sauce pan off the burner. “Um…do you want to taste it?”

Angus nodded, wanting to do anything but acknowledge what just happened. “Yeah, yeah sure.”

He turned to grab a spare spoon off the counter behind him, but you took his face into your hands and brought your lips to his.

There was a delay in his reaction, but soon, his arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you in impossibly closer. Even if it technically wasn’t either of your first kiss, you acted as if it was; well…perhaps it actually was, at least a real one. It was sloppy, there wasn’t a rhythm (you didn’t even know you needed one to properly kiss apparently), and you were torn between keeping your hands on his face or trailing them through his hair.

Which is why you pulled away as soon as you felt it started. Angus, still with his eyes closed, leaned back into you at the loss, but soon snapped out of it once you backed away, catching your breath.

“Are…” he was catching his too. “are you okay?”

“What?” You asked, almost out of it. “Yeah just, needed to breathe.”

“Yeah-yeah, me too.”

It should’ve been uncomfortable; the most uncomfortable you’ve felt the whole night…but then, after you both could breathe normally, and looked at each other, you started laughing.

“How-how was it?” He asked in between snickers.

Your face hurt from smiling. “My lips are burning.”

“Really?”

“I mean, from the hot chocolate but-.”

“-You’re mean.” He shoved you playfully.

You scoffed. “And you’re just a baby. So, how’d it taste?”

His teasing halted. “…What?”

“The hot chocolate.” You asked innocently. “Did it taste good?”

Still being thrown through a loop, he took a longer time to respond before quite literally shaking himself out of it. “Uh, yeah-yeah. I uh-don’t add anything, it’s good.”

“Nice. Hand me some mugs, top shelf to the right.”

He followed without complaint, and you served up the hot chocolate, then drowning both of them in whipped cream before crushing up the M&Ms and sprinkling them on top.

The cookies were cooled by then, so you shared them as well while drinking your hot chocolate. Just as you spoke with the little girls at your table, you spoke about things that, to anyone else, would be meaningless; stories from childhood, school, books, the list went on. Still, for the first time in many days…it felt like there was no tension of any kind between you.

When all was said and done, you cleaned your dishes, then set out cookies and milk.

“For Santa?” He asked.

“Who else?” You questioned.

And this was when you knew Angus Tully was a good person. Despite the opening for overbearing teasing, and how you wouldn’t have minded it at all, he didn’t do anything of the sort. He simply smiled.

The two of you walked hand in hand back to the infirmary, taking extra care to be quiet. When you were in the doorway of your room, you turned to Angus.

“Merry Christmas.” You grinned, feeling your heart do somersaults the way he looked at you.

“Merry Christmas.” He said back, smiling as he cupped your face and kissed your cheek so tenderly.

Your face could’ve lit up the room once he pulled away you were smiling so much. You both uttered another ‘goodnight’ to each other and made your way to your beds.

You didn’t sleep much that night, but instead of it being from grief, it was from excitement. Excitement of finally letting something good happen to you.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers #paul hunham #mary lamb #Youtube

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juniperss · 2 months

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This is Our Space

Darry Curtis x Reader

A/N: Based off of this gif and maybe a bit out of character but i mean....come on!!! Consider this an AU of sorts!

This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing! Also It's been a while since I wrote these so I'd like to think that I've improved somewhat since then!

Almost any other guy in the neighborhood would've been embarrassed to admit he was working as a dance instructor part time up at the lake over the summer. But Darry Curtis wasn't like the other guys in the neighborhood. People were either too scared of him or respected him too much to say anything, even the Socs left him alone for the most part. Only Soda had the guts to laugh when it was announced that the younger Curtis boys would need to keep the chores up at the house while Darry was gone.

“Hasn't it been like four years since you've danced?” Soda inquired once the laughter died down, plopping onto the couch next to Ponyboy. Darry ignored the question. It had been a while. He hadn't had much reason to dance after their parents died. Didn't have the time either. It hadn't been his plan to teach dance when he sent in an application for an extra job, but when the head of the activities department had seen his name and recalled how well he played ball, in addition to how he remembered his daughter fawning over him dancing at the high school formal, it had been sealed. So when Darry wasn't fixing houses or helping the grounds keeper with the cabins he was found in the back building reserved for dance lessons. But he wasn't going to shrug off the good pay he'd receive.

Setting up the studio hadn't been hard once he'd cracked the windows to let it cool off. The smell of the lake was carried on the breeze and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was on a vacation instead of working. But that image of him with his fishing pole enjoying the sun on his face and the quiet around him was wiped away at the sound of the door squeaking as it opened. “Hi.” The greeting was soft, quiet, almost nervous at the notion of being there and as Darry turned around it seemed his intuition was correct. You were nervous.

“Hey.” It was a lame return of introductions but small talk wasn't really his area of expertise. For a moment the two of you stared at one another from across the room. He observed the way you fiddled with the strap of your bag that was slung over your shoulder, your fingers tugging absentmindedly at the pink material. You were most definitely a Soc, but there was an aura of humility about you that didn't make him want to retreat immediately.

“You can put your stuff down.”

If Dally was here he'd probably make a joke about the way your eyes widened or about the way you ducked your head as you carefully set your things down. But Darry only shook his head to himself before walking over to the stereo. “I'm Darry. You know how to dance? At all?”

“Uh I don't. I mean I can slow dance kind of....”

Darry had to bite back a sigh and instead settled for a small nod.

“Okay.”

“Those are spaghetti arms.” Darry corrected, his hand leaving your waist to grab your arm. His grip was firm, his calloused fingers digging into your soft skin. The room had been quiet since the two of you began going over the basics only the music playing in the background. He'd told you to ignore it for now and to focus on the movement. “Like this.” Darry nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips as your form improved. At least....you thought it was a hint of a smile.

“This is my dance space,” Darry let go of your arm and motioned to the air in front of him before doing the same thing in front of you, “This is your dance space. I don't go into yours. You don't go into mine.”

Once again Darry took your hand in his and placed the other on your waist. The warmth of your skin didn't go unnoticed. You were watching your feet, trying to memorize the way he gracefully led you in the dance. It seemed so natural to Darry and you couldn't help but be impressed by how fluid he was. “Look up. Your feet will figure it out.”

His instructions were always firm and stern and at first it had taken you aback, but you realized as you forced your eyes away from the floor to look at him, that his eyes were softer than his tone. And that the way he held your hand and waist were intentionally gentle. Darry was less intimidating then he let on.

It had been two weeks since you two had started lessons and Darry was surprised that he hadn't grown to dislike you. Finding people he got along with was difficult as he wasn't talkative and his stoic expression and attitude tended to keep people from wanting to talk to him. But you seemed to warm up to him after the first day and though he wanted to be annoyed by your smiles and questions, Darry found that he was actually excited to come to class. He liked the way you still glanced down at your feet every now and then, more so now that you had accidentally stepped on his toes more than once, before you snapped your gaze back up to look at him with that shy smile. He didn’t mind answering your questions about his work on houses, talking about his brothers and the gang. He liked that you remembered little things like how he took his coffee and his addiction to chocolate cake. He enjoyed sitting on the deck, dangling your feet over the edge and sipping on lemonade when you two would take breaks from dancing.

“Darry?”

He blinked twice as his eyes focused on your face. It surprised him how close your face was to his, the distance between you two almost non-existent, and instantly his cheeks flushed a soft pink. You were still following his lead. But when Darry went to step away the hand in his squeezed gently and held him where he was. The music continued and the technical dancing morphed into a swaying with your chest brushing against his, your fingers moving from his shoulder to the back of his neck until they curled into his hair. You were both surprised by the confidence that seemed to have taken control of you body and for a split moment you wondered if you had gone too far and ruined the moment. Until Darry leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours testing the waters that he so desperately wanted to jump into.

“Please...”

You practically pleaded, voice once again a whisper. He responded with the same firmness and care that he showed every time he took your hand in his, but with this kiss came an uncertainty that was new. You could taste lemonade on his lips and hummed sweetly against him, only parting when air became a necessity.

“You know...you're...you're... in my dance space.” You teased, stepping back away from him, mimicking his motion from the first day.

For a moment the joke hung in the air between the two of you until Darry laughed. It was a deep rumbling that started in his chest, warm and somehow comforting and exhilarating at the same time. The smile on your face grew and grew until you were sure it couldn't get any bigger before you too began to laugh as well.

#darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #my writing #my writings

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babygirl-diaz · 4 months

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Draw Me Like One Of Your French Girls (Omegaverse)

Eddie always wondered what was in the little sketchbook Buck carried around with him. The alpha was so protective of it, that he growled and flashed his eyes at anyone who dared to touch it. Granted, alphas are territorial about their stuff but Buck was taking it a tad too far. Eddie was a little jealous of the damn sketchbook. Ever since Buck had picked up the hobby, he was so hyper-focused on it, that he wouldn't even pay attention to Eddie. But Eddie would sometimes catch the alpha staring at him before looking away quickly and going back to his damn sketchbook. Eddie was almost tempted to hide it but then he knew Buck would walk around with those sad puppy eyes that would break Eddie's heart and have him confessing in no time.

But then one day Eddie came across the sketchbook by its lonely self. The worn-out book was just sitting on the couch in the firehouse loft with no Buck in sight. Eddie casually approached the book and looked around to see if anyone was looking. When he was sure he was by himself, Eddie slowly picked up the sketchbook, like it was going to explode, and opened it to the first page. He frowned when he saw that there were just stick figures on the paper, but something under them caught his attention. The stick figures were called Eddie. Eddie smiled and turned to the second page, and then the third, then the fourth. The sketches were getting more prominent features now. But they had a common theme between them. They were all sketches and drawings of Eddie. The drawings kept improving as Eddie went on. There were pictures of Eddie eating, and Eddie playing pool, and there were also pictures of Eddie and Chris. They were gorgeous. Eddie was in awe. But then he turned to the latest drawing and his breath caught in his throat. It was Eddie once again. But it was Eddie a couple months pregnant. He was gently cupping his pregnant stomach while looking down. Eddie felt himself overcome with feelings over that. What did all this mean?

Eddie heard someone clear their throat behind him and he turned around to see Buck standing there, looking panicked.

"I'm sorry!" Both Eddie and Buck said at the same time.

"Wait... What are you sorry for?" Buck asked.

"For opening your sketchbook without your permission!" Eddie apologized, panicking a little.

"Tha- that's okay." Buck came closer and took the sketchbook out of Eddie's hand. "I'm sorry- for you know- being such a stalker," he chuckled nervously and looked down.

"That's okay," Eddie assured Buck and looked at him. "Um... Can we pretend this never happened?"

A look that Eddie couldn't quite decipher passed across Buck's face before he nodded. "Okay, yeah, let's pretend this never happened."

***Four Years Later***

Eddie was sitting on the bed, rubbing his pregnant belly while browsing through his phone. When he looked up, he found his alpha and husband sitting on the armchair with a sketchbook, drawing something intently.

Eddie smirked when he was suddenly hit with an idea. He got out of bed and slowly and silently took off his clothes, tossing them aside. When he was fully naked, he got back into bed, propped his head on his hand, and cleared his throat.

Eddie's alpha looked up and his eyes widened. "What the hell?"

"Draw me like one of your French girls," Eddie said in a low, seductive voice.

"What are you doing?" Eddie's alpha asked.

"What were you drawing there?" Eddie asked.

"Trying to get the layout down before work on Monday. This kitchen is going to be hell to complete," the alpha replied and then raised an eyebrow at Eddie. "Now back to my original question... What are YOU doing?"

Eddie scoffed. "WELL, there used to be this alpha, whose entire sketchbook was filled with drawings of me."

"He sounds lame," the alpha replied. "You thought I was drawing you?" He got up from the chair, came over to the bed, and sat down. He leaned in to kiss Eddie but Eddie pulled away.

"You're the lame one!" Eddie huffed

Buck laughed and quickly kissed Eddie before showing him the sketchbook. "Okay, I lied."

"Wait... You were drawing me?" Eddie asked pouting at him. He kissed him again before asking, "What about the layout of our kitchen? The contractor will throw a tantrum on Monday when you tell him you have no idea what our kitchen should look like."

"Oh no, I know what our kitchen should look like," Buck replied. "It's all in here," he added touching his head.

"Oh yeah, because the contractor can see inside your head," Eddie teased.

"The contractor will live. Right now, I need to draw my man like one of my French girls," Buck said pressing Eddie to the bed and kissing him thoroughly.

#sammy thinks she's very clever #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 abc #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #omegaverse #mpreg

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staar5384 · 1 year

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When All He Had Was You

kaveh x gn!reader; angst, hurt/no comfort, brief mentions of sex

an~ it’s more of a one sided x reader, but i still called it an x reader to make it easier for myself. my b

~~~~~~~~~~~

Kaveh had lost just about everything in his life; his parents, the original Palace of Alcazarzaray, his home, everything. Yet there was always one constant in his life; you.

You had found Kaveh sobbing by the decayed wreckage of his magnum opus.

Having lived nearby, and having to deal with the aftermath of the Withering’s devastating affects, you found the blond curled up at what used to be the front steps of his most prized creation.

You approached him, and thought at first he was incredibly embarrassed to be seen as such a mess, you offered him such comfort. You soothed him with reassurances, held him in your arms as he just let his sorrows wash away in the flood of tears pouring from his eyes.

After that day, you two became inseparable. You did everything. You supported him through his stupid decision to put himself in debt to rebuild the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Why? Because he was your best friend, and the joy that crossed his face after seeing the gorgeous mansion in all its glory was all you needed.

Of course, with all the debt, and having no home, he needed to move. You didn’t live close enough to the Akademiya, which meant he had to accept the offer given to him by an old friend, Alhaitham.

The first few months of him living there you weren’t allowed over. You never understood why, but you assumed it had to do with his new roommate. Whenever Alhaitham was brought up, all Kaveh did was complain. He complained about his bad attitude, his lack of letting him inside his own house when the poor boy left his keys at home, the unnecessary and cruel comments he made against Kaveh.

When the blond finally did allow you over, you got to meet Alhathiam and it was almost an instant connection. Even though Kaveh seemed to hate the guy, you found yourself enthralled by him, and him with you.

When Kaveh wasn’t around, you’d sneak over to visit Alhaitham privately, though his cold and reserved demeanor never broke. It was originally disheartening until the day he confessed his feelings for you in his own special way.

“Why was Kaveh the one who stumbled across you?” Alhaitham grumbled one evening. You were both curled up on the couch while Alhaitham read and you drew.

“I’m sorry?” You asked him in confusion.

“I mean, why didn’t I find you first? I would have made you mine already,” He flipped to the next page in his book. He spoke so nonchalantly for someone making such bold claims.

Your heart missed a beat as he spoke. You reached a hand up to clutch your heart, “You mean that?”

He nodded, still not looking up from the piece of literature in front of him.

“So what’s stopping me from being yours?” You asked.

“Nothing I suppose.”

“So then I’m yours.”

Alhaitham nodded, moving his arm from his side to wrap around you, “I like the sound of them,” Finally, he placed the book down on the coffee table. He leaned forward, kissing you softly.

You melted, the kiss softer and more gentle than you imagined. You kissed him back, and things quickly escalated from there.

That night you had fucked on that couch, and that night you became an official couple. However, you decided to keep it a secret from Kaveh, as to not upset him.

More months went by where you two secretly met, but the secret was harder and harder to keep. You spent less time with Kaveh, disappearing for days at a time, then returning with whatever lame excuse you could come up with.

It wasn’t until one day Kaveh came home early from work. He was ready to sleep, push aside his worries and rest his fried brain. Then he heard your voice from the kitchen.

At first he thought the exhaustion was driving him crazy, but then your laughter rang through the rest of the house and he instantly recognized it.

Quietly, the blond approached the kitchen. Why hadn’t you told him you’d be here?

When he turned the corner, he found you tucked safely in Alhaitham’s arms as you two whispered and giggled amongst yourselves.

“What the fuck?” Kaveh said in disbelief.

It was almost like he was in some sick and twisted nightmare. You, his best friend, his confidant, the person he loved was cradled in the arms of his shit ass roommate.

You were startled by the voice, immediately pushing yourself away from Alhaitham, “K-Kaveh..!”

“What is going on here?”

“W-We were just…”

“We were trying to enjoy a moment alone,” Alhaitham crossed his arms. “But of course the noisy roommate returned.”

Kaveh felt his heart pounding in his chest, the throbbing almost too painful for him to handle. Tears formed in his amber eyes, “Why?” His voice cracked.

“Kaveh, listen I-” You tried to speak, but the blond cut you off.

“Out of everyone, my roommate!? The person who has done nothing, but berate me!”

“I know it looks bad, but Kaveh I never meant to hurt you!” All the guilt that had been festering these few months was bubbling in your stomach, making you nauseous as bile rised in your throat.

“The one thing I had was you. You were my friend, my companion. Alhaitham has everything! The money, the looks, the friends, the career. He has everything I don’t!” He was crying, hot tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. “But I had you,” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

You were stunned. Kaveh had never confessed this insecurity of his to you. You never realized he was jealous of what Alhaitham had; and now the man had you.

Kaveh turned and left without another word to you. He ignored your pleads and calls for him to come back, to let you explain yourself. Bullshit. It was all bullshit.

He made sure to grab his house key as his slipped out the front door, and went down to the tavern to hopefully drink himself dead.

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lamestteenagegirlever · 8 months

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as a book reader i ADORE the series but if theres one thing i love more than anything is seeing baby percabeth from an unbiased perspective bc theyre so cute but also percy is so LAME like hes so embarrassing i love him. like in the books hes just like yeah i think she looks like a princess and we only hear his internal thoughts so i LOVEEE actually seeing how awkward he is with his crush on annabeth.

its so cute and i honestly think pretty important for the viewers because it rlly helps to drive how young they all are and how insane it is that theyre being put in these crazy situations. like his dorky face when annabeth smiled when he started singing the consensus song? his voice cracking after annabeth laughed at his potty joke?? the look of brief panic on his face when he realized grover saw the face he was making when he hugged annabeth back followed by the really awkward smile??? THE WAY HE WAS THINKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT A PRETTY GIRL HUGGED HIM FOR SEVERAL DAYS STRAIGHT AND SAW ANNABETH WAS ACTING WEIRD SO HE ASSUMED SHE WAS DOING THE SAME BUT SHE HAD ACTUAL SERIOUS STUFF TO WORRY ABOUT SO HE JUST ENDED UP TELLING ON HIMSELF???? LIKE THAT IS ACTUALLY SO EMBARRASSING I WAS DYING WATCHING THAT PART. THE WAY HE INDIRECTLY ASKED HER ON A MOVIE DATE AND WOULDNT MAKE EYE CONTACT EXCEPT FOR A MILLISECOND TO SEE HER REACTION BEFORE DARTING HIS EYES AWAY SO FAST????? THE TUNNEL OF LOVE SCENE OVERALL?????? THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER LIKE YOU CAN LITERALLY SEE THAT HIS PUPILS ARE DILATED IN A GOOD COUPLE OF SCENES WHEN HES LOOKING AT HER LIKE THIS LITTLE BOY IS DOWN ASTRONOMICALLY HE IS SO FUCKING LAME. like we obviously knew the way they were both ready to sacrifice their lives for eachother in a heartbeat and how well they complimented one another and the way they changed each others world views and made the other strive to be better versions of themselves like ive known they were the blueprint since like literally 2nd grade like that didnt stop me from repeatedly bawling my eyes out over it but thats not the point. like we knew this and we could see it in the books but we couldnt see, or at least not fully see, how big of a stupid embarrassing crush percy had on annabeth and how she obviously feels the same way but is better at hiding it like oh my god i love them i wanna squeeze them until their eyes pop out like those old pens at the scholastic book fair do yall remember those?? im sorry guys im so autistic pjo and specifically percabeth has been my special interest since i was 7 and now 10 years later i get to watch them on tv in an adaptation WITH YOUNG RYAN REYNOLDS ARYAN SIMHADRI AND THE ONE AND ONLY MISS LEAH JEFFRIES thats almost entirely book accurate but also adds in fun stuff that works great in the plot and for the most part even better than the original scenes in the books bc the show is how rick would write the series NOW with all of his new gained writing experience like im actually going to explode the show is so good

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percabeth #percy pjo #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase #leah is my annabeth #leah is our annabeth #grover underwood

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ddragayn · 4 months

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@heropartnerweek DAY TWO - EVOLUTION

skye doesn't canonically evolve past being a prinplup (doesnt want to) but i thought itd be fun to explore what she would look like as an empoleon! and honestly uuuuh they look SICK lmao, its almost too bad im not planning on using the design

thoughts and details below cut:

so i wanted to keep skye's original palette - which, remember, is de-saturated like all future mons' are. but i wanted to make it darker overall because empoleon becomes black/gray

theyre sorta bear like in vibe: big, strong, fluffy, with thick limbs. strong as FUCK.

along with their head "crest" they now have another additional spike jutting in the center from their beak. i figure this would be used to break through ice, and if that doesnt work the classic wing blades would. their beak is also thicker overall

instead of the weird jutting structure framing the head and neck, skye's thick feathers just go up that far. if they were facing you head on said feathers would open in a V shape under their head! like a coat

listen. i wanted skye to have hands. but i just couldnt make it make sense. why does empoleon have fingers in the middle of its wings. i know too much about bird anatomy for this shit

they keep all their scars + the broken horn, because it'd be lame to magic them away. in my au evolution never changes scars / disabilities

#empoleon #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers of sky #heropartnerweek2024 #2024 #personal art #skye #other ocs #penguin #pokemon design #ddragayn art #pmd #feat. rin being skye's biggest hype man #yes his design changes every time i draw him. shut up #IM GONNA SETTLE ON ONE BEFORE ART FIGHT HOPEFULLY. THATS THE GOAL

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wistfulcynic · 5 months

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matelotage me

for @gbweddingweek a short fic i originally wrote for a zine that never got off the ground. It was written before S2 and actually i think holds up pretty well to what happened in that season.

vaguely, it responds to the prompt "proposals"

a brisk 1.5k rated G | AO3

Stede and the crew in the dinghy rowing away from where they were marooned, towards the Republic of Pirates. Stede muses on how badly he's hurt Ed, Black Pete offers an idea.

At first, there was only silence.

The silence of the sea, that is, not truly silence at all. Waves lapped against the side of the dinghy; oars splashed as they hit the water then sliced through it with a gentle swishing sound. The wind whistled, seagulls cawed, Stede grunted as he rowed, but within the dinghy the noiselessness was oppressive. It sat heavily on the sunburnt shoulders of Black Pete, Wee John, Oluwande, Roach, Buttons, and the Swede, as well as Stede’s own aching ones.

None of them could say what might be the outcome of this plan of theirs, to head for the Republic of Pirates instead of back to the Revenge after Ed had—and Stede still couldn’t fully process the implications of this—left them marooned them on that spit of sand, presumably to die. None of them wanted to talk about it either, except, predictably, Pete, who broke the silence about an hour into their journey.

“I still think we should just go back to the ship, rescue our guys, and get the fuck out,” he declared, then raised his hands defensively in response to the chorus of groans. “What? We can’t trust Blackbeard anymore, he left us out there—”

“We talked about this, Pete,” said Oluwande wearily. “This dinghy barely holds us, it’s not gonna manage with Jim and Frenchie and Lucius too.”

“Well then maybe we steal another dinghy.”

“That’s too complicated.”

“But Blackbeard—”

“He must really be hurting.”

Stede’s quiet statement ended the argument. As one, the crew turned to where he sat at the centre of their huddle, rowing steadily and with surprising endurance. Stede hadn’t said much since he’d found them, just listened to their tale with an open mind but an increasingly heavy heart.

“He’s pushing away people who care about him,” Stede continued. “Isolating himself. He must be in a really bad way or he wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

Wouldn’t what? Betray Stede? As he, Ed, must have felt betrayed? Couldn’t abandon the crew as he must believe Stede had abandoned him?

“He just wouldn’t,” Stede finished, lamely. “Not without a reason.”

“Except… he totally did,” said Pete, oblivious to or choosing to ignore Olu’s attempts to shush him. “Out of nowhere, too, like one day he’s fine and the next—we’re marooned. What ‘reason’ could he have had for that?”

Oluwande glanced at Stede, just briefly but it was enough. Olu knew. Stede sighed. “It was because of me,” he said. “I hurt him.” His face crumpled as he remembered Ed’s joy at their planned escape to China. How must he have felt that night when Stede didn’t show up? How long had he waited? “I broke a promise to him. I didn’t think he would—at the time I thought he couldn’t actually want to… not with me… after the way I ruined things. I thought his life would be better if I weren’t in it. I thought he wouldn’t miss me.”

“He did though,” said Olu quietly. “He missed you a lot.”

“I broke his heart,” Stede whispered, “didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Olu’s voice held a wealth of sympathy. “I think you did.”

“Broke his heart?” Pete’s expression progressed from confusion to disbelief to dawning comprehension, all within the space of an uncomfortable twenty seconds. “Wait… you mean… you and Blackbeard?”

“Come on, man,” said Olu as the rest of the crew groaned.

“Where’ve you been?” demanded Wee John.

“It wasn’t exactly subtle,” Roach observed.

“Well maybe I just had other things to think about,” grumbled Pete. “Some of us have personal lives, you know.”

“All of us have personal lives, Pete!” snapped Oluwande. “We can still pay attention to what’s going on around us!”

“All right, okay! Fine!” Pete held up his hands again. “Let’s just drop the entire subject.” He turned to Stede. “Listen, Captain, if it really is like that with you and Blackbeard then you shouldn’t have any trouble getting him to give us our guys back. You just have to, you know. Woo him a bit.”

“Woo him,” repeated Stede.

“Yeah,” said Pete. “Woo. Bring him a present or something. Tell him his hair looks nice.”

“Tell him ye appreciate his beard,” piped up Buttons. “Advise him tae grow it back.”

“Compliment him on his fashion sense,” said the Swede.

“Or his sword skills!” chimed in Roach.

“All excellent suggestions, but if I’ve hurt Ed as badly as I think I have I doubt they’ll be enough,” said Stede. “I need some way to show him that I’m serious about wanting to mend things between us. That I’m not afraid of the future he wanted for us and that I want it too.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I need to show him that I love him as Ed, with or without the beard or the leather or any of the rest of it. Just as Ed.”

“Well, if you feel that way about him, why don’t you offer him matelotage?” inquired Pete, in a tone that suggested this was the most obvious solution in the world.

“Ooh, there’s a thought,” said Olu.

“Matelotage means business,” Wee John agreed.

“Matelotage?” Stede frowned. It seemed to him he’d heard that word before or possibly read it, but he couldn’t recall what it meant. “What’s that?”

“Well,” said Pete, puffed up and very pleased to be the one to deliver this explanation. “Matelotage is when two pirates decide that they want to pledge their lives to each other. They have a ceremony, usually performed by the captain but I guess Buttons could do it for you—”

“Aye, so I could and it’d be my pleasure, Cap’n!”

“—where they promise to share their incomes and property, protect each other in battle, and be each other’s companion and support for the rest of their lives.”

Stede stopped rowing and laid down the oars. “So… it’s like marriage,” he ventured.

“Er—yeah.” Pete nodded. “I never really thought about it that way but I guess it is.”

“Ed and I could get married.” Stede turned this idea over in his mind and found that it enthralled him. If he and Ed were married then they could kiss each other again. They could kiss any time they wished! And more than just kissing! They could live together, adventure together, share everything with each other. They could share a bed. A bed where they could—well. They could do all the things that Stede’s eager imagination had been tormenting him with in fantasies both waking and asleep, from the moment he realised that what he felt for Ed was love. Stede felt his cheeks flush and immediately turned his thoughts elsewhere. A small dinghy in the middle of the ocean and surrounded by his crew was certainly neither the time nor the place.

He and Ed could wake up together every morning, yes, that was the thing to think about. Thoughts of a bare-chested Ed with soft and sleepy eyes, morning sunlight in his hair, were quite stimulating enough actually, given the circumstances.

Sleep together, wake together, live together. It sounded like heaven. Everything that had ever troubled him in his marriage to Mary—all that made him so uncomfortable in a married state—when he thought about those same things with Ed, they took on an entirely new and monumentally more appealing aspect.

“We could get married,” he said again.

He pictured Ed in a veil like the one Mary had worn, and—was that a thing in matelotage? It might not be a thing. Stede really had no context or sense of etiquette for any of this. But the idea of Ed in flowing lace sparked a coiling sensation in his lower belly, made his insides go all tight and twisty and his skin feel hot.

That was probably just too much time in the sun.

He could see it though, so clearly in his mind’s eye. Ed with his hair up as it had been on the night of their excursion to the French ship, all woven through with jewels and flowers, framed by a spill of white lace… faint strains of music in the air as Ed crossed the deck of the Revenge to where Stede stood waiting for him, framed by a glorious sunset… an elegant floral arrangement in Ed’s hands… eager warmth in his eyes… the two of them, hands entwined, pledging their eternal troth together… the vows… the kiss… and then—

The rest of his life to spend with the man he loved.

Stede’s throat drew tight as tears gathered in his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered, roughly, softly, but in the oddly liminal space of the dinghy they all could hear. “Yes. I’ll ask him to matelotage me.”

“I don’t think that’s how you say it—”

“Shhh!” Olu dug his elbow into Pete’s side. “Would you shut up for once and just let him have this.”

Stede took up the oars again and resumed rowing with renewed vigour, now with a dazed and blissful smile on his face and his eyes bright with dreams. Oluwande watched him for a moment with a troubled frown, then repeated, “Let him have this. Let him do it his way. I have a feeling that if we want to survive this and get our friends back we’re going to need for him to be exactly himself.”

“Aye,” agreed the crew, even Pete, then silence fell again.

#ofmd fanfic #ofmd fic #gentlebeard fanfic #gentlebeard #gbweddingweek #profdanglais #ofmd #our flag means death

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xuqijie · 2 years

Text

minatozaki sana x f!reader

# tw ; cursing

# genre ; angst, maybe fluff at the start

after a comment you had made, sana starts ignoring you. what happens if you do the same?

“some help here would be appreciated,” you muttered, fixing the camera onto the tripod again.

“didn’t you tell me,” the brunette smirked, “that all i needed to do was stand still and look pretty?” you cursed your best friend and your past self under your breath.

“although i’m not sure why you had to add in that last part. aren’t i always pretty, y/n?” sana asked. but as you stared at her, dressed in a fashionable coat and an adorable red beret with her brown hair floating in the air gracefully, all you could do was nod.

you blurted out, “you’re more than pretty.”

sana looked stunned for a second, like that one hamster meme you had always said looked strikingly similar to her, before recollecting herself again and shooting you a sly grin.

“you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever met, sana,” you added on, taking more photos as sana beamed. while the compliments towards your best friend piled up, the beat of your heart had started to race with each giggle sana let out.

you wished you could capture her voice in these photos as well.

“any more compliments and i’ll think you’re in love with me, y/n,” sana remarked jokingly.

the camera in your hands nearly slipped.

“no. never,” you mumbled, “you’re not my type anyway.” or rather, you knew you weren’t sana’s type. while pretending to check the photos, you missed the disappointment that flashed across your best friend’s face.

after the incident, as you and dahyun had coined, sana had begun drifting away from you. for example, constantly reading your messages hours later despite the fact that you knew she was always on her phone or accidentally bumping into you in the hallways and not even sparing a glance.

you had managed to catch her after class one time, but it went rather sour.

“hey, sana!” you walked, or actually ran, towards her. she was trapped, like you had planned. if she decided to walk away even after you had yelled her name for the whole corridor to hear… you didn’t want to even imagine what type of gossip would spread.

“do you want to go to that new tteokbokki place after school?” you asked, “it’s around the corner a few blocks away from—”

“y/n,” sana interrupted, “i already went with my friends yesterday. i’ll see you later.” was all she said before walking away.

you stood there, blinking away the tears that were quickly forming in your eyes. how could she have already gone there if it opened today? you thought bitterly. luckily, the students in that hallway had quickly left and none of them witnessed you breaking down.

well none. except for one particular im nayeon, a friend of sana’s, who decided to make her presence known once the tears started dripping down your cheeks.

“hey y/n.”

you jumped, probably almost a foot in the air. once nayeon had came into your view, you started wiping your tears away with your sleeves roughly.

“oh… uhm, hi. i’m sorry about that. or sorry for seeing that,” nayeon started out, “are you okay?”

you sniffed, “yeah. i’ll be okay.”

nayeon shifted awkwardly next to you before asking, “if… if you’re okay with it, i could go with you? i know we only know each other because of sana but i needed to find someone to go there too.” you chuckled. nayeon’s strange behaviour was quite endearing.

“sure, let me just…” you paused. originally, you were meant to walk sana home after her cheer meeting, but she was probably going to ditch you again for some lame excuse.

“just…?” nayeon asked.

you pushed your phone back into your pocket before smiling weakly, “nevermind. let’s go?”

the both of you had arrived at the cafe a few minutes later. it really was quite close to your school and the food there was amazing too. nayeon had vouched for it, saying that she had tried the same chain at a different place and that the tteok would forever be number one in her heart.

you simply laughed at her weird attempts to cheer you up. she had even told you about the one time her pet dog, kookeu, had somehow managed to clog her toilet bowl and caused a whole ordeal in the im house. it was rather funny how hard nayeon tried to distract you from sana’s behaviour. and it worked. for a blissful hour, sana had not once crossed your mind.

not until the doors were pushed open and the loud ringing of the bell attached at the doors perked your attention. your eyes widened as sana came in striding, eyes searching around the quaint cafe.

nayeon had also spotted sana before she saw the two of you and tried to hide under the table, but by then, it was already too late as your best friend towered over your table.

“nayeon,” sana greeted sharply before turning to you, “why are you here? why didn’t you answer my texts?” you looked away from her. “i didn’t see them,” you answered blankly while nayeon’s eyes darted between the two of you. sana scoffed and grabbed your wrist in a tight grip, pulling you out of the cafe and into an alley.

“what are you doing?” you yelled, trying to get out of sana’s hold.

“i know you saw my texts! what are you doing here with nayeon?” sana demanded, “why were you ignoring them?”

you flinched at her tone. normally, if sana was happy or excited, she would have a high pitched shrieking voice. if she felt drowsy, her voice would deepen. but you had never experienced her anger directed towards you.

“what’s wrong with you?”

“just answer me! you were ignoring them on purpose, i know it!”

you stared at her in confusion and shock.

“what are you talking about? so now, only you can ignore me? must i be at your beck and call every second? this might be a surprise for you but friends are meant to be a two way street, sana!”

sana became alarmingly still, but it didn’t remain that way for long since she tightened her grip and shouted, “i wasn’t ignoring you, i was busy! not that you would understand, always doing useless shit like going out with my friends. and for the record, i just wanted to be with other people for a second! and with you always fucking being here… i have other friends too!” at the end, sana was breathing heavily while you just stood there, unmoving.

you blinked. at every word sana spoke, you felt your heart shatter a tiny bit more. it was painful, hearing what sana really thought about you.

“fine… whatever,” you said, ignoring the way your voice cracked, “you wanna be left alone so bad? i’ll leave you alone. sorry for thinking we could be something more than friends. i won’t bother you anymore.”

sana seemed to regain her composure and started to realise what she had said, and what you had implied. heartbroken, you started to walk back to the cafe where you probably had some explaining to do.

“y/n, no! wait please!” sana yelled out, sprinting after you, “y/n!” despite her pleas, you just continued walking, tears falling as your argument replayed in your head.

it was only when sana had managed to take ahold of your wrist once more that you let the sorrow drown you.

“what… what do you want me to do?” you choked out, “telling me to go away… i’m doing what you want me to do!” sana gazed at you before sighing.

“i’m sorry. please.”

“sorry…” you repeated, “you really think sorry can fix how i feel right now?”

sana pulled you in closer.

“i didn’t mean what i said. please believe me. i was just… upset… that you said i wasn’t your type. and that you would never fall in love with me,” sana explained slowly, “i’m sorry for ignoring you so long. it’s all my fault, please don’t cry.” you slumped in her hold, too tired to even respond.

“it was hypocritical of me to get angry at you for doing the same thing i did. please… please don’t leave me. i need you,” sana whispered. and despite all the hurtful words she spat out, a part of you could never even think of leaving her.

you dipped your head into the crook of her neck and sighed contently. sana embraced you, unlike the painful grip she had on your wrist before, her arms around you felt warm and comforting.

“i love you. i love you so much. i’m so in love with you. don’t cry anymore, i’m sorry for hurting you.”

#minatozaki sana x reader #sana x reader #twice

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knightyoomyoui · 11 months

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Tzuyu x M/F Reader - "A Depressing Resemblance"

I'm back for the nth time lmao. Yeah, college life is SO stressful and tiring. I couldn't get to build up interest on writing on my free time because anytime I would just rather use my day off by taking a long rest from all the hectic school tasks to accomplish. Anyways, I know I said from the previous Chaeyoung fic that it would be the last one-shot for Set 5 lineup? I changed my mind. THIS is the last one. I had to make it... uhh organized, I guess? Like, you know... I don't want to just end it off right away to Chaeyoung for Set 5 unlike what I've been doing from the previous line-ups where Tzuyu who is the last member based on their age order (yeah, i'm depending my line-up pattern from their age order) should originally be the last one to close the line-up. So yeah, the Set 5 INDEED ENDS HERE. For Set 6, I'm scrapping off the Tzuyu fic of my idea and I 'm going to move Cry For Me PART 3 after Momo's (which means PART 3 and 4 will be next at each other) so that would make me start the line-up with Nayeon's in usual. Basically, there's gonna be only one Tzuyu solo fic for Set 6 and that will be the "Red Thread Of Fate" which was suggested by ShaShaSha029. Again, I deeply apologize that I'm uploading very slow now for this book. Being a college/engineering student is very difficult, guys. I can't promise anymore that I'm going to do better on releasing works, but I can assure yall that I will not stop and I will finish this book in the future. Enjoy reading guys!

Walking back and locking yourself alone inside your office on campus was a typical habit of yours to do every day. You couldn't help it either, as long as you found all of the professors who taught the subjects, especially the major ones, to be lame.

Brilliance might be a curse for you to possess, but you wouldn't deny at least that it does save you at a point where you need to escape from something you wouldn't be in.

Your hand stopped from rotating the doorknob, just as your heart ached as you had that thought again.

The thought belongs to one of the biggest what-ifs you will ever carry for the rest of your life.

What would you be right now if that brilliance of yours had assisted you to make on time and save someone rather than yourself?

Exhaling deeply to regain your composure, you unlocked the door and stepped in immediately.

You dropped your bag on the couch and went near the bulletin board of your club's room.

It was clean; there were not many cases you had to check to place yourself in enjoyment and impress everybody with your remarkable deductive skills.

But there was always a thing that would distract you amongst the rest—nothing to seem care about anything once you got a glimpse of it.

It happens everytime, whether you do it intentionally or not.

No matter what, it still remains the same.

It's hard to look.

You stared at the display of a photo of your club featuring you, who seemed completely united, even facing the other direction instead of the camera with your grumpy face.

To your side was a girl. She was your co-member... Well, technically, your only partner and member of your "club" since you were known to be a terror, cold individual around the campus, all of the students except her had the interest to join alongside your student-detective role. But most importantly... she was the one you adored a lot. She was the only exception, and truly did prove you right from the day you met her.

Her smile was very bright; it could've been like her future if it weren't for that to happen. She could've still been here with you, ready to solve mysterious cases and chasing culprits with you.

You flinched as the reality of it tugged at your heart painfully again.

That was the last photo you've taken with her, and that was on the same day you'd lost her afterwards.

To quit hurting yourself too much, you went on to be preoccupied with other things to get busy with. In your desk were some papers to finish, including the main case you're currently investigating which seems like the truth is about to set free sooner now that you've captured the mastermind's greatest ally.

As you were reviewing all the photos and other informations regarding the case, your door was received with knocks.

"Come in." You yelled from the inside.

The door opens, revealing someone that put you again in pleading for mercy.

Mercy that she would stop bothering you anymore.

"What is it this time, Sally?" You asked her without much of energy in your voice.

"Any updates within my application? It's been like days now since I applied." She said as she plants down her bag on your couch as if she owned the place with you.

"Wh- huh?" You clenched your face in confusion. "Did you really listened to what I've said for the past days or you're just doing it all intentionally to mess around with me?"

"What did I do? I was just asking."

"Sally..." You paused as you slammed your papers on the table to try holding your temper down as you were about to get mad again. "For how many times, I already told you that your application is rejected. What's in there that's so hard for you to understand?!"

"Ohhhh..." Sally reacted, gasping her mouth in fascination. It was then her expression transformed back into a serious one. "Wait, you sure?"

You slumped your back on the chair in defeat. Rubbing your hands on your face in frustration, you squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows as you stare at her fiercely.

"Just... what do you want? What you need for me to make you stop?" You said wearily. "I have no time to play with your games, Sally."

"Nothing more. I just want to be on your detective club. That's it." Sally shrugged as she looked around the room. Her smile became forced for a while at something before she returns her focus at you.

"Well guess what, Sally. Hate to break it to you but whatever you do, even if you wont stop annoying me with your application, I won't give it to you." You make things clear to her. "You are not qualified to be in this club. Now please, I'm begging you. Get out."

Sally stared at you for a moment before she pouted and picked up her bag. "Guess you need some more convincing. I'll you show then."

"Wait, hey!-"

She closed the door and left the room, rudely interrupting your complaint that was about to come. You groaned in irritation as you ran out of ways to get rid of that woman.

It's kind of ironic that you both don't even know why she is so desperate to join your team and why she introduced herself when it was during the time that you were still grieving.

The scenarios have made you feel like this isn't even a coincidence anymore. Something strange must be behind all of this.

Later at night, you were reporting all of the insights you'd constructed to your senior police inspector, who is assigned to your campus' main security and protection team, when you received a call from an anonymous number.

"Hello hello, have I interrupted you with your silly job, YN?" The voice of a violent cruel person has got your attention to be in complete alert.

You quickly stood up from your seat and made a distance to excuse yourself.

"Yishin? What's with the sudden call?"

"Just wanna show you something~" he turned the call into a video one, and what showed into your screen had you tremble in fear.

"No. W-what are you doing there? W-why are you spying on h-"

"Karma is a bitch, YN. Look's like this girl's been so interested in joining your rotten club that already lost its charm ever since your precious charming girlfriend gone forever that she couldn't stop coming in your office."

He said as the video continues to record Sally who seemed like she was writing something on her notes while sitting down on one of the steps in front of the building.

"You took out my informant, and I'll give it you. You probably did that in return for what I've done to you, but here's what I had understand very clear about you. You're stupid and dumb, YN. This fight between us is far from over. It's like a cycle, on and on and on, and payback's going to be on repeat not until one of us gives up and simply drop dead.

So... what do you say, should we play a game by losing your next partner in justice?"

"YOU SON OF A BITCH, LEAVE HER ALONE ON THIS!" You clenched your fist tighter on your phone as your screamed, shocking everyone on the police station.

"Oh yeah, you're going to succumb to her desperation right, hmm?" He laughed maniacally as he watches her start to fix up her bag. "Oh come on, don't tell me you won't! You've always been so soft whenever it comes to her."

"I'm going to go there, so I can finally end this once in for all, you fucker." You blatantly warned him. "It's time that you finally came out of your hiding, but I expected better from you to face me rather than putting innocent life here at stake."

"Well, that's what you've been so wrong about me, YN." He teased you. "I never play fair." He ended the call, leaving you in a panic state as you hurriedly returned to the desk.

"INSPECTOR, WE HAVE TO MOVE FAST AND GO BACK TO THE SCHOOL. SOME STUDENT THERE IS ON DANGER BECAUSE OF STRYKER. PLEASE, CALL SOME BACK UPS NOW."

"On it."

You went into your car and drove fast into the campus where you searched for the building that you've last seen Sally at.

Fortunately, you got there pretty much on time for you to locate Sally, but in your surprise, what you've seen had you in suspicion.

Sally was stomping Yishin also known as Stryker on the stomach as his hands were tied in the back using a duct tape. His face were beaten up badly, but his craziness won't allow him to stop laughing at his pain and defeat.

"I knew it, I knew there's something interesting about you! But this wasn't what I have in mind-"

Stryker was shut up by Sally who punched him back and forth in the face. "Then now you know, because you deserve this. I hold vengeance, I'm going to hit you with it and have you feel my wrath of punishment."

Sally plastered another duct tape into his mouth before she turned around and see you standing, watching her in disbelief.

"What's going on..." You breathily said. "How could you do this by yourself?"

"Hey YN! Look what I have here. How's my performance? Am I qualified now?"

You stepped forward at her and eyed her sharply. "Tell me, who the hell are you?"

"Didn't I gave you my biodata-"

"Quit spinning my words and don't give me any bullshit. Answer me properly, WHY DO YOU KEEP ON PESTERING ME?!"

"Can you please stop yelling? Why are you even so mad about me, I haven't even done anything wrong to you?!" She returned. You turned around face her away as you took some time to breathe out.

"I just wanted to be part of your club, join you on exploring cases, I even helped you finish one, what's your problem?! There's something that's holding you back, why couldn't you just share it to me!"

"IT'S YOU! THE PROBLEM IS YOU!" Your voice cracked as you snapped at Sally and glanced back angrily at her, making her flinch. "I don't even know you and I don't like you being around me, especially when you're... wearing the same face as my friend who passed away months ago!" "On top of that, you also started to act the same way how she applied for my club too!" you revealed to her.

You pulled out your phone and opened it, revealing your wallpaper with a picture of your girl, captured by you when you decided to sneakily take one because she looked so cute thinking deeply while solving cases with you.

You gave it to Sally who hold the phone as she looked at your wallpaper. You began to cry as all the emotions took over you when you felt you had to reminisce the memories she left for you.

"Her name's Chou Tzuyu. She was just like the same age as yours, I don't even know how it's possible that you look exactly like her." you got choked in your words as you traced Sally's figure in bitter amazement. To describe Sally's appearance, she sports a curvy black long hair, a thicker jawline, and more well-built compared to Tzuyu who has straight blonde long hair, round face structure with less visible jawline, and slimmer figure. The rest were literal similarities of them together, speaking of being skillful, beautiful, adorable, tall, smart and lively but can be very intimidating when gets serious and many more.

"She died 7 months ago, because of that bastard." You glared at Stryker who is now unconscious. "I didn't want her to get involved too much about his case knowing how dangerous it is. He killed a lot of students whether a part of his scheme or not.

But she insisted. She wanted to stay and help me, because she didn't want me either to be in danger and get stressed out with this along with the academics. I just... let her because I didn't wanna make her sad but..."

You sobbed between your words as the flashbacks ran into your mind, starting from the time your feelings bloomed for the first time because of Tzuyu's undeniable charm.

"I just wanted to protect her because I love her. I grew in love for my partner. I couldn't help it, she's the exact opposite as me, she's beautiful and very lovely. I never had the courage to tell her because I was scared that she wouldn't like me back."

Going back, she invested herself more on the case, to the point that Stryker and his allies started to target her as she collected too much infos from them.

Then one night, I came into her dorm because I wanted to ask her out to eat with me outside to loosen ourselves a bit with the case,

But I found her instead, her door was slightly opened..."

You recalled as you entered her room and what greeted you was too devastating and sickening of you to endure.

You had to witness the cold dead body of Tzuyu laying down on her bed with her own pool of blood. She had a knife stabbed in her stomach, with a note saying that "she has seen too much.

As the police arrived, you had to help them bring Tzuyu to the ambulance as you joined them there to have her get treated. Unfortunately, your prayers didn't worked as she was pronounced dead on arrival from lost of much blood and organ damage.

You collapsed at the hallway in torment as you witness Tzuyu lost her life forever. You realized that you won't be able to hear her soft voice that keeps you awake everyday, her laughs and smile that brightens up your mood, and her presence that got you moving with enthusiasm.

Tzuyu showed the colors in your personality, and now that she's gone, it's like your entire self had gotten back to dull and dark, even worse than before.

Before ofcourse, she was the love of your life, the girl of your admiration, and the only one who makes you feel alive.

It took you time to heal, even halting your investigations against Stryker organization for 3 months before you returned as all the memories with her you revisited had you encouraged that you will bring her the justice she deserves once you figured out that Stryker is still on the roll on unleashing havoc around the campus.

Your words were cut off when you saw that Sally started to cry too, sniffing as she wiped her tears while she stares at Tzuyu's picture. "What's with the tears?"

"I'm sorry... it m-must've been... very tough for you." She said in her shaky voice. "I know because I went the same as yours. It hurts to lost a loved one. Even now I still couldn't wrapped it up in my head that my only sister is gone."

You sprung up your head as you looked at her in astonishment. Sally was staring at you, with her dreadful eyes.

"What did you just said?"

"Tzuyu is my twin sister. My plans of joining your club were true; I wanted you to believe me, but I hope this time it will get you to consider mine," she said as she began to clear her throat to speak out her explanation. You were trying to process it in your head as the thought of Sally being another replica and a depressing resemblance to Tzuyu turns out it wasn't just like that for the entire time as the revelations led to tie up everything to make sense that the reason was that they were indeed connected and related to each other in blood and flesh.

"I was studying at the other university. One day, she went on my room, giving me a favor. She told me about you and this case of hers that she's been solving with you."

"Oh god."

"She asked me to get to know you someday and in case of what happens, I'll be the one who'll replace her." she said as you shivered. "Do you know why she wanted it to happen, YN?

She wanted me to continue taking care of you. She doesn't want you to be alone. She wanted me to keep on protecting you, YN."

You sobbed heavily on the ground as you fell on your knees and covered your face with your palm. Sally kneeled beside you and hugged you tightly while caressing your back.

"I was worried for her, but I knew I couldn't stop her. And so, I accepted her offer because I always want to do what's best for Tzuyu. As long as my sister is happy. And when the tragedy happened, I had no choice but to transfer here, search for you and come here with my face that resembles a lot like Tzuyu, like the girl you admire. I didn't intend to spook you or hurt you further, I shouldn't have played with you more but I already had the culprit in my hands at that given time too.

You think you're the only one in hellbent taking him down, you're not. I wanted to give my sister justice too, and that's why I want to help you. I'm deeply sorry again, YN."

You wiped your tears away as you looked at Sally closely. "Day and night, I still can't forgive myself for what happened. Tzuyu won't be dead because of me. I failed to save her."

"Stop it, YN, Tzuyu didn't want it either to happen, but now it did and it's unstoppable. It hurts but we have to move on and go forward. Do you think Tzuyu would like seeing you drowning in grief and guilt blaming yourself for something that you haven't caused at all?"

She went to comfort you, wrapping you in her arms for a gentle embrace. "For Tzuyu. We will have each other's backs from now on,. Please, move on. It's harder to stay."

You nodded as you sniffed and eased your heavy breathing. "I-I understand now. I'm sorry if I was being too harsh. I just... couldn't stand doing the same mistake again."

"Don't worry, YN. It's been a rough time for you to contain it all. Let it out on me."

You and Sally stayed for a while, holding each other in solace to finally free yourselves together from the burden of grieving Tzuyu's passing.

"So... am I qualified now?" Sally turned to look at you as she joked.

You chuckled as you nodded your head. "Yes."

"Well, finally I did it." Sally released a long sigh. "Thank you and it's nice to meet you properly this time, YN."

"Me too, Sally."

The police finally came, they arrested Stryker and the inspector congratulated the two of you while he tried to convince himself that it wasn't really Tzuyu that he is seeing, but rather her twin sibling.

You and Sally are sitting at the back of the police car, resting as you observed the police team going around the place as part of the investigation.

"Oh, I forgot." Sally reached out to her pocket, revealing your phone. She handed it to you as she opened it, showing your wallpaper of Tzuyu again.

"Thanks."

Sally watched you look at Tzuyu admirably. She smiled at how mellow your eyes went as you traced Tzuyu's features. You truly did loved her sister a lot. She would probably liked it if she witnessed Tzuyu being with you earlier.

"YN.

"What is it?

Sally roams around the pitch black orbs of your eyes, a simple curve formed within her lips. "Tzuyu loves you too. A lot. The way she mentions your name to me and shares her stories being with you, it's pleasantly different."

"Yeah, now I know."You looked at her as your eyes became watery and nodded with a tightlipped smile. "I just wish I had the chance to tell her mine."

"If your fate did, I bet you two will be fun." Sally guessed as she smirked at you.

You lowered your head and smiled sheepishly as you muttered. "Like you wouldn't imagine." "I look forward to get to know you more, YN." Sally stated as she daggered her sight equal to your level then proceeded to playfully bump your shoulder. "So am I, Sally." You patted her head in which she giggled, exactly like Tzuyu would react at your sweet gesture. It did kinda made you miss her again, but it'll take some time for you to completely heal.

You meant what you said. With Sally to accompany you through everything, no instances that she'll leave you staying in the dark anymore, it's confirmed that you'll learn to maintain yourself to be calm and create a closer relationship beside her.

In return, you'll be there for her while she continues what Tzuyu has always desired to do for you.

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