#which is why this view point that every adult should have a car gets shoved around a lot

[xxxsweetdreamzxxx]

warnings/tags: dom!Yixing sub!reader, fanfic, smut, slight fluff; cursing, size kink, fingering, unprotected sex, railing, cream pie

summary: over a weekend, the sexual tensions between you and your best friend Yixing come to a breaking point

word count: 4.7k (um, wow)

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i went all out on this one, hope you all enjoy!!

P.S. only the ending is based on a dream this time, I made up the rest :>

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"What are your plans for this weekend?" You asked the two men in front of you.

The three of you sat around a small round table outside your favorite local coffee shop, a few blocks from your work. Around you, the city buzzed in the excitement of mid-day. The autumn sun peeked through whatever gaps in the buildings it could to light up the streets below. Every now and then, the sounds of downtown - a speeding car, a siren - would interrupt the conversation. 

Their answers to your question were both something along the lines of 'absolutely nothing' with looks of dread for the boredom to come. 

"Why do you ask?" Junmyeon, the one to your left, asked. 

Shrugging your shoulders and peering into your nearly empty coffee cup you replied: "I don't know, I was maybe hoping I could tag along with one of you since I don't have anything to do either."

To your right, Yixing was quiet and deep in thought. "I know." He suddenly announced. "Let's go camping!"

You pondered the idea for a moment. The chance to completely disconnect from and forget about the stresses of adult life - even if just for a couple of days? Not to mention a whole weekend alone with your two favorite people in the whole world. Sounded better than any other activities you could think of at the moment. 

"Sure why not." you agreed, looking to Junmyeon. "Are you coming with?"

"I'll have to be back Sunday night, but sure."

"We'll bring two cars then, since me and y/n don't have to get back until sometime Monday." Yixing proposed.

Junmyeon knowingly smiled at him. "Must be nice getting a long weekend, I should join you guys' office."

The conversation trailed off into unrelated chatter, until your lunch breaks were up. Parting ways with Junmyeon, you and Yixing walked back to your building a few blocks away, continuing the conversation alone.

In your sophomore year of high school, the two of you had become fast friends, both having the same interests and intended career path. He had then introduced you to his friend Junmyeon, and although you didn't have as much in common with him as Yixing, his easy-going  personality made you warm up to him quickly. Throughout the remaining two years of high school, the three of you had been inseparable. You didn't even have any girl friends, but you didn't need any with the boys always around. 

Although, you would be lying if you said you'd never caught feelings for either of them. The truth was both were very attractive and had girls falling for them left and right. Multiple times over the years you yourself had gone through phases of having a crush on one, then the other until finally you decided it wasn't worth potentially ruining the friendship. These days, those feelings were rare - and dismissed as quickly as they came up. 

Entering your office building, the two of you rode the elevator up to your floor. Exiting quickly through the still-opening doors, you said your goodbyes to Yixing for the rest of the afternoon with a slight wave as you both headed to your individual desks.  

                  .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•.

The rest of the week was uneventful, work progressed at the office smoothly. Later on that day, you'd gotten out of the shower after work to find Yixing and Junmyeon already texting in your group chat and making plans. Junmyeon was in charge of food and drinks. Yixing had a large tent that could be used, and would pick you up Saturday morning.  

y/n: you guys have to leave at least one thing for me to do

not_a_sheep: bring yourself

y/n: very funny

suh01: don't worry y/n, we'll work your ass off once we get there 

not_a_sheep: we? I never agreed to this

y/n: promise

suh01: i'll make sure of it

y/n: lol k

y/n: I can also bring equipment like flashlights and first aid just in case

not_a_sheep: good idea

And so it was that you awoke early on Saturday, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail. You dressed in some light denim shorts, a tank top, and a cropped jacket that provided just enough warmth until the day heated up. You kept your makeup natural, so if it was damaged by the outdoors in any way it wouldn't be noticeable. 

Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you quickly opened it to the lockscreen and glanced at Yixing's text signaling his arrival. Grabbing the backpack you'd packed the night before, you slid on your sneakers and headed out of your apartment and to the street. There he was waiting for you, Junmyeon sitting behind him in his car. Waving briefly at Junmyeon, you turned to Yixing's car as he rolled down the window. 

"You can toss your bag in the backseat." He instructed, smiling at you. 

Doing so, you then got in the passenger seat, closing the car door. He sped off in the direction of the country with Junmyeon following close behind. You picked up the soft sound of music playing at a low volume through the speaker. Only when he turned the volume louder did you realize he was playing your shared favorite band on the radio. Turning to smile at him, you saw he'd been waiting to see your reaction and once he did a grin spread across his face. God was that a cute grin. 

You ignored how flushed you suddenly felt by averting your gaze and singing along to the music. And that's what you continued to do for the next two hours. You didn't hold back one bit, you were so comfortable with each other. Your voices mixed in a passionate duet - you both knew every line the lead singer sung. 

Before you knew it, you were racing past open plains and small pine forests with no signs of civilization in sight. After passing by a few potential spots to set up camp, he pulled off the road near the edge of a forest and field. Rolling through the bumpy grass for a minute or two, he finally stopped and parked the car once the road was out of view.

"Wow, we're in the middle of nowhere." You observed, exiting the car and taking a look around. 

"It's perfect!" Junmyeon called, walking over from his car which was parked a little ways away. Once he'd gotten closer, he spoke again at a normal volume. "So, what did I miss out on in the past two hours?"

"Only a concert sung by y/n and yours truly." Yixing replied with a shrug.

At this Junmyeon laughed. Leaving the boys to talk about the drive, you walked around to the trunk of the car. Opening it, you took the tent out which was still folded up in its bag.  

"Where should we set this up?" You asked, holding it up for them to see. 

"Somewhere near those trees." Yixing pointed. As you began carrying it over, you heard him call out to you again. "Hey y/n, Junmyeon and I are going to quickly gather some firewood for later!"

"Alright!" You yelled without looking back. 

You walked over to the flat area that he'd instructed, a few yards from the trees. Making sure the cars were still in sight, you sat the tent down and began to unpack it, separating the pieces. Unfolding the stiff main walls of the tent, you attempted to flip the thing right-side up - except now it was too big for you to move. You tried a few more times before stepping back for a moment so you could muster up all your energy. 

You felt someone standing behind you the second before they tapped you on the shoulder. Startled, you spun around to find Yixing right next to you with that grin on his face. Behind him you could see a pile of fallen branches he'd set on the ground. 

"Need some help?" He asked. 

Sighing, you smiled at him in defeat. "Sure."

Each taking one side of the tent, you easily flipped it over with his assistance. It consisted of a single large interior room and a separate screened "porch" in the front. You then found a rock that fit in the palm of your hand, and used it to pound one of the stakes on a corner of the tent into the ground. It worked well. Moving to do the same on the next stake, you bent over to reach it. You could feel Yixing's eyes glued on your figure the whole time you drove the stake into the earth. 

Straightening up, you glanced at him with a teasing look on your face. "What?"

Embarrassed that he'd been caught, he quickly looked away and acted like he was going to work on one of the stakes that you hadn't gotten to yet. 

"Yixing, did you need something?" You asked in the same tone, subconsciously very aware of his intent but refusing to fully acknowledge it. 

Chasing him down around to the other side of the tent, you found him still avoiding your eyes, a slight pink painted across his cheeks. "Can I use that rock?" He asked, refusing to make eye contact. 

"Oh, sure." You replied, handing it to him. You were stopped from making any further comment by Junmyeon's approach, branches in his arms. 

"Who wants lunch?" He asked, dumping the wood with the rest. 

"Me!" You were starved after not eating breakfast. 

Heading off to his car, you decided to keep it silent between you and Yixing as you waited for Junmyeon to return. He returned with some sandwiches he'd prepared for all of you, and nothing was said for minutes as you devoured them. Then the idea of a hike was brought up and agreed to. 

After finishing every bite of your lunch, water bottles were gathered and the three of you made your way into the forest. Junmyeon led, while Yixing was in the middle and you brought up the rear. You soon came across a creek, and decided to follow it so you could easily retrace your steps when you decided to head back.  

Yixing's back was facing you as you followed him along the trail that Junmyeon chose. With him in your view the entire time, you couldn't help but take note of his broad shoulders, his tight ass. The way his sculpted muscles moved as he walked showed his strength - it was all very attractive. Continuously you were shoving these thoughts from your mind only for them to return again. 'He's my friend.' You reminded yourself. 'I can't think like this.'

Eventually you opted to just stare at the ground until you got back to the tent - several hours later. By the time you returned, the three of you were exhausted, muscles aching. The sun was already lowering in the sky, turning it all shades of orange, pink, and yellow. Grabbing the wood gathered earlier, the boys built a bonfire the best they could while you went to grab the marshmallows out of Junmyeon's car.

When you returned, the wood was already ablaze. They'd created the perfect campfire, setting the biggest logs flat on the ground as seats. It was just dark enough now that the fire created a barely visible glow that warmed the ground and air near it. Already sitting, they turned to look your way at your approach, Yixing's face lighting up with the sight of the marshmallow bag in your hand. His grin made your face feel hot and you quickly looked at Junmyeon instead, who smiled at you, understanding conveyed in his gaze. 

This exchange made you blush further, as you looked down at the grass and sat down next to Yixing on a log. Why did you feel this way? And why the fuck did you just sit next to him? Maybe you were just going through another phase of crushing on one of your best friends. These thoughts ran through your mind as you focused on opening the marshmallow bag. 'Nothing'll come from it, as usual.' You reminded yourself. 

Pushing these thoughts to the back of your mind again, you asked: "Do we have some sticks for this?"

"Here." Junmyeon replied, leaning over to hand you some he'd gathered. It occurred to you that this whole time he'd been watching you, reading you. 

The sky darkened, and the night got late. The three of you ate marshmallows, both golden and burned. Stories of all genres were told by everyone. Laughter filled the air. At some point, drinks were brought out, and enough was had to the point that everyone was tipsy. The tales became more ridiculous, small secrets were spilled without any thought. But it was okay, you probably wouldn't remember any of it by morning. 

Slowly, one by one, you began making your way to the tent as time creeped into the early hours of the morning. Junmyeon was first, followed shortly by Yixing after he'd put out the fire. He asked if you were coming too, and you replied with something like "in a minute."

When you did stumble your way over to the tent several minutes later, you moved to open it when you heard hushed voices. They were practically whispering, but bless your good hearing - you could just make out most of the words.

"Are you sure?" Yixing asked, excitement detectable in even his whisper. 

"I think so," Junmyeon replied, "...can't look at you... blushing..."

You put your ear even closer to the tent wall, struggling to hear Junmyeon. 

"I'm scared to make a move." Yixing confessed. "I'm scared I'll ruin everything." 

Then Junmyeon said something inaudible. 

In your drunken state, none of these words made sense. Did he have crush on somebody? Deciding you couldn't stay awake out there any longer, you finally entered the tent. They already lay on the ground, falling asleep. Junmyeon acknowledged your presence with a soft "hey" before rolling over on his side to face the wall of the tent. Yixing lay in the middle. You slowly crawled next to him on the other side and laid down. 

After a few minutes, Yixing spoke the last words you heard before drifting off to sleep. "Goodnight y/n."

                  .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•.

The light of the late morning sun filtered through your lashes as you blinked open your eyes. The first thing you noticed was the throbbing in your head, the second was the arms securely wrapped around you from behind. Remembering the sleeping arrangement the night before, you quickly realized it was Yixing, spooning you like a child hugging onto its favorite plushie. At this revelation, your heart began pounding rapidly. 

You reached to touch his hand. "Yi- yixing?" You asked in a quiet voice. 

"Hmm..?" He moaned, semi-awake. 

For painfully long moments he continued holding you as he fully awoke and assessed the situation. When he realized he suddenly pulled away, sitting up and mouthing a "sorry," hoping Junmyeon wouldn't hear. Taking deep breaths to calm your heart, you sat up as well. 

"What time is it?" You asked in the same tiny voice. 

He grabbed his phone off of the ground and looked at the time, surprised by it. "10:23."

"Ugh." You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "My head's killing me."

At this, Yixing became concerned. "Do we have pain killers?"

"Yeah, in my emergency bag." You replied, still holding your head with your hand. 

"I'll go get them." He said without a second thought, quickly exiting the tent. Not two minutes later, he came back pills in hand. 

"Do you have water?" He asked.

At your motion to your water bottle a few feet away, he leaned over and grabbed it. Opening the pill bottle, he took out a dose and handed it to you. Then he did the same with your water. He made sure you took and swallowed them, concern never leaving his expression. 

"Isn't your head hurting too?" You asked. 

"A bit, but I'll take care of it after you start feeling better." He replied. "You're more important."

Not knowing whether to take that as a compliment or not, you pouted. "No I'm not, you're equally important. Where's your water?"

"Gone since yesterday." 

After thinking a moment, you held out your water bottle to him. "Here." 

He stared into your eyes, a little taken aback but looking to see if you were truly fine with it. For once, you met and held his gaze, letting him know you were. Taking the bottle from your hand, he swallowed the pain killers. You watched as the tip of your bottle that had been on your lips moments before touched his. But it was the way that he tilted his head back as he took a sip that made your indecent thoughts return. You snapped your head towards the wall, covering your reddening face with your hand. 

He set the bottle down again, not noticing your state. "Thanks y/n." 

He then moved to exit the tent again, waking Junmyeon. After rubbing his eyes and running his fingers through his hair, Junmyeon left you in the tent alone, still just as flustered and replaying the morning's events in your head for minutes on end. 

After you'd calmed down, the rest of the morning and afternoon flew by. Pretending like nothing happened, the three of you went about activities similarly to yesterday. You had brunch, then walked into the forest again, heading for the creek. This time, you went in, the coolness of the water refreshing from the mid-day heat of the sun. After splashing around and playing for hours, you returned back to the campsite and roasted some sausages over the fire for dinner. When the last bite had been finished, the three of you continued talking right up until the end of your time together.  

Standing up from a log, Junmyeon sighed. "Well you two, I've gotta bounce. I'll leave what food's left with you."

"Aight man." Yixing stood up, giving him a quick hug. "See you in a few days."

Yixing then said something quiet to him, causing Junmyeon to nod. 

"Bye y/n!" Junmyeon called, waving at you. 

A little confused that he wasn't offering a hug as usual, you didn't voice it and waved back. "Bye!"

With a smile, he turned and walked to his car. After removing the cooler with food inside, he took off, leaving you alone with Yixing. On your own, not as much was said, you chose your words more carefully. He started the fire up again with some new wood that had been gathered that day. You sat on separate logs, slowly conversing as the sky became colorful, then dark. This night was a bit cooler than the last, and you began to shiver slightly. 

During an awkward silence, he noticed this. Without saying anything, he reached out an arm, inviting you to sit on the same log as him. Heart rate speeding up a bit at the thought, you shuffled over to sit beside him after no hesitation. Wrapping his right arm around you, he pulled you close.

"Better?" He asked, smiling a sweet smile. 

"Mmmh." You agreed, trying to loosen the way your body had tensed. 

The minutes ticked by, and the only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart deafening your ears. Then your worst fears came true.

"Y/n... is that your heartbeat?" He questioned. 

When you refused to answer, mind racing, he pulled your face around to look at him, hand on your cheek. "Hey, are you alright? Your face is burning up."

In that moment, a feeling overcame you. Maybe it was because of the way he cared so much, the genuine concern he expressed. Or how you felt infinitely safe around him in a way you couldn't describe. Although, it could've also easily been the way the firelight danced off his tan skin. The way it lit up his warm brown eyes more powerfully than the sunlight could ever dream of. It could've been any combination of those things or others. But something compelled you to pull down his face to yours, brushing your lips across his in a soft kiss. 

Snapping out of it, you pulled away, seeing the shock on his face. "Oh my god, Yixing I'm so sorry I-"

You were cut off as he kissed you back, a long deep kiss that you melted into. When you finally pulled apart, you giggled at how stupid you'd been. 

"What?" He asked, smirking. 

"I'm so blind. I thought you didn't like me in this way."

He shook his head. "I have for a long time y/n." 

As he met your lips again, your heart felt as though it was soaring above the clouds. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you ran your fingers through the hair at its base. Quickening the pace of your kisses, you began to breathe heavier. Panting, you felt him pick you up by your waist and place you on his lap. You began to grind your hips down into his. Groaning, he quickly stopped you by gripping them, firmly holding you in place. 

"Slow... down.." He panted, speaking between your kisses. 

"But- I want this." You told him, meaning every word. The wetness already pooling between you legs confirmed it. 

At your spoken consent, he released his grip on your hips. Straddling him, you began moving again, slower than before like he'd instructed. A growing bulge felt between your legs made you keenly aware of his arousal. A stronger thrust on your part made him grunt and swear against your lips. 

"Shit y/n."

Suddenly you both lost your balance, crashing onto the grass a few feet away. You were only on top for the few seconds it took him to remove your shirt before he rolled you under him, pinning you in place. He took control of the pace, speeding it up. Being completely engulfed in his shadow made you want him more.

Spreading your legs wider, he unbuttoned your shorts and began pulling them down. Then he tugged at the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down to your ankles as well. Fully exposed to him, the scent of your arousal mixed with the smokiness in the air, penetrating your sense of smell. There was no way he wasn't aware of it too. You felt him move a hand down your body towards your naked heat. 

When you felt the first touch of his fingertips against your folds, trembles rocked your body. You forced yourself to relax, settling down into the soft grass. Only to get excited again as he started tracing fast circles with his thumb on your clit, spreading your slick. You felt him smirk at how wet he'd made you. You arched your back up off the ground, moaning at the pleasure.

Beginning to feel your high building, you didn't warn him just yet. But unexpectedly, he inserted two fingers into your dripping pussy without warning. You cried out, sucking in a sharp breath as you flexed your walls and came onto his finger all in seconds. A little surprised, he pulled them out. Whimpering, you rode out your first orgasm underneath him.

After you'd calmed down a bit you moved to unbuckle his pants. He held your hand away for a moment. 

"Y/n, I didn't bring a condom. And... I don't want to hurt you." He said carefully. 

"I..." you panted, "don't care... I can take it." Another breath. "Just take care of me afterwards."

After hesitating a moment, he let go of your hand, and assisted you in removing his clothes. First his pants, then shirt, then his boxers. Springing free from the fabric, his cock stood erect as you took it in. It had good length, but its girth was what made you lay your head back on the grass and prepare yourself. The following seconds inched by as he moved towards you. 

Pulling him down closer onto your body, you led him into another round of rough kisses as you felt the tip of his cock brush against your clit. Taking his hand in yours, you intertwined your fingers with his, waiting. 

Pain shot through you as he slid into you harshly with a single thrust. Pushing deeper, he used his strength until he was balls deep in just two. He filled you up so much, almost too much. Bitting your lip, you did your best to adjust to his size. But he didn't give you much of a chance to, as he pulled out entirely after only being inside for a few seconds. The empty feeling was more painful than the full. You throbbed, desperately needing him back. 

Thankfully he didn't wait long before fulfilling this as he repeated himself multiple times. Your combined pants and moans filled the night air as he forcefully fucked you into oblivion. It didn't take much of this to cause your second high. Aggressively pounding into you again for the unknownth time, he hit that sweet spot. Your mouth fell open and you gripped some blades of grass next to you with your free hand. 

"Th- there-" you managed. 

Understanding, he didn't remove himself fully again, only doing so partially before angling himself to hit the same spot. He only did so twice before you came undone for the second time that night. 

"Yixing!" You cried out too late.

You clenched around his cock, feeling it twitch inside you. He swore, arms becoming shaky and breath choppy, warning you right before he came. Hot strings of his cum shot through you, filled you up to the brim. Your combined wetness then spilled out of you onto your inner thighs and the grass. Pulling out completely, he flopped down onto the ground next to you, grinning and breathing heavily. 

Reaching out to touch his face, he held your hand against it. Then he pulled you closer, kissing your swollen lips gently. Parting, he looked into your eyes and smiled. You still couldn't look at him in this way without blushing, but it didn't matter anymore. Taking you into his arms, he held you as exhaustion caught up with you. Not a word was said, but none had to be for you both to know the mutual happiness you felt.

                  .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•. _ .•°•.

 

You awoke to the sun peaking over the eastern horizon, lighting up the nature around you. Laying on your side, you felt something warm pressed up against your back. Rolling over onto your other side, you winced at the prickling of the grass on your bare skin and the soreness between your legs. You saw it was your best friend's bare chest that had been pressed against your back. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, slightly curled around your body. 

Realization hit you as you remembered the events of last night. Eyes widening, you gasped and covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. Peaking through your fingers, you saw his eyes were now open, that same adorable grin plastered across his face. 

"Morning honey." He stretched a bit before realizing where you both lay. "Oh god, did we fall asleep here?"

"Mhmhmm." You replied with a nod. 

Sitting up, he grabbed his pants and pulled them on before standing. Offering you a hand, you accepted it and tried to use your legs. Immediately they buckled under you. No way were you walking to the tent. 

"Whoa!" He exclaimed as he prevented you from falling. He then scooped you up from the ground and into his arms. 

"What the hell have you done to me?" You playfully asked, poking his cheek. 

"I'm so sorry." He replied in a serious tone.

"Hey!" You scolded, not meaning to make him feel bad. "I asked for it."

He side eyed you as he carried you into the tent, smirking slightly. "Yeah you did."

Setting you down on the floor, he laid down next to you, cuddling up to you again. A few soft words and kisses were exchanged as you drifted off to sleep together again. It looked like this was what the rest of your trip would consist of, and you'd be lying if you said the thought didn't please you.  

[avengerscompound]

Until the End of the World - 14

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1899

Rating:  E

Warnings: pregnancy, canon typical violence

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together.  Things are calm and you feel like a family unit.  When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem.  When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 14

The morning had the chaotic energy that Steve had come to love since you’d first moved in all those years ago.  Not every day was like this.  Often he’d come back from his run to find Geo watching morning cartoons eating his cereal quietly while you and Bucky were plating up breakfast for the adults, and everything was calm and moving smoothly.  Then there were days like today.  Days when he’d get in and Bucky would be looking harried as he juggled three different things in the kitchen, and you were chasing Geo around with a towel wrapped around your head because Geo was still in his pajamas.

Steve couldn’t quite explain why he liked this kind of morning chaos.  Maybe it was because he thrived on stress and he was good at making decisions on the fly.  Maybe it was just that it felt real.  It wasn’t the fairytale happy ending.  It was a real family dealing with real things.  Given how bizarre his life could get, it was nice having something so completely normal he could rely on sometimes.  With the resistance he was hitting with getting both him and Bucky to be able to legally adopt Geo without you giving up any of your parental rights, it was nice to get this reminder that even if it had to just be a case of one or the other, this was his family and no law would change that.

“Geo, you need to get a move on, we’re going to be late,” you said, as you tried to dry out your hair.  You still had your robe on, and you were moving around the apartment like you were looking for something.

“What are you missing, honey?”  Steve asked as he came in.  You were very close to your due date, you’d been suffering more and more by what you had been calling ‘baby brain’.  The most common signs of it were forgetting simple words, going into a room to do something and forgetting what you went in there for, and misplacing just about everything you put your hands on.

“My purse,” you said.  “We have to pay for his excursion to the Natural History Museum.”

“You had it by the bed,” he said.  “Something about chapstick.”

“Shit, right,” you said, hurrying back into the bedroom.  “Get dressed, Geo,” you shouted over your shoulder as you disappeared into your room.

Steve chuckled, following after you.  “Did you want me to do the drop-off today?”  He asked as he pulled off his sweatstained compression shirt.

“No, it’s fine.  I have to go out today anyway,” you said.  “I just don’t want him to get there late.”

“I’ll just take a shower and help you both get ready,” Steve said, coming over and kissing the top of your head.  You looked up at him from your seat on the edge of the bed.  “Thank you, honey,” you said.

He left you to get ready and took his shower, making it quick and perfunctory, before coming out and getting dressed.  You were standing eating toast while Bucky and Geo sat at the table finishing up their breakfast.

You looked at your phone and thrust it quickly into your purse.  “Come on, G,” you said.  “We have to go.”

Geo shoved the last mouthful of pancake into his mouth and jumped off his chair.  He kissed Bucky on the cheek and then Steve.  “Bye, dads,” he said, grabbing his bag.

“Are you doing pick up, Buck?”  You asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Bucky nodded.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY announced as Steve was pouring himself a coffee.  “You’re needed urgently in the strategy room.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” Steve said, putting his cup back down.  “Guess I won’t be eating after all.”

“There’s always coffee and donuts up there,” Bucky said, getting up and collecting up the dishes.  “I’ll see you up there.”

Steve kissed his cheek and followed you out into the hall.  “Hope it’s nothing too bad,” you said.  The elevator doors were opening as the three of you walked down the hall.

“We’ll handle it,” he said and kissed your cheek.  “Have a good day.  You take the elevator, I’ll use the stairs.”

“Thanks, honey,” you said, bustling Geo through the doors.  “See you tonight”

Steve veered off into the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time.  It was a dozen floors up, but he moved quickly and he arrived at the strategy room sooner than if he’d waited for the elevator to return.  It was still early, so the only people present were Hill, who always got in well before any of the Avengers, and always left much after them, and a couple of lower down SHIELD agents whose jobs it was just to make sure someone was there if something big went down.  They monitored lines of communication and passed off intel gathered overnight to the appropriate people.

They both looked nervous like they were expecting to be court marshaled for something.  “What’s going on?”

“Do either of you knuckleheads want to tell him or should I?”  Hill snapped.

They shifted uneasily and looked down at the ground as Sam came into the room.

“What’s this big emergency?”  He asked.

“About three hours ago, they got word there was a breakout at the Raft,” Hill explained.  “It was a minor breakout, but precise and coordinated.  They lost one prisoner.  These idiots thought the appropriate response would be to send two Agents out to see if they could recover said escapee.  Didn’t think to ask who it was that escaped.”

“Who was it?”  Steve asked, feeling a slow tightening in his chest.

“Ophelia Sarkissian,” Hill said when neither of the agents would speak up.

“Viper?”  Steve said, quickly moving to the computer panels.  Immediate and intense dread set it.  You would already be halfway to the school and while you had a driver with you, they were not equipped to deal with a HYDRA attack.  He could only imagine that that’s why Viper had made the break.  He began searching up the tracking on the car and logging into the police reports for incidents on the path between here and the school.  “You couldn’t have led with that?”

“Has she already left?”  Sam asked, reading his mind.

“Yes, she would have been in the car by the time I got here,” Steve said.  There were no police reports but the usual route you took to the school had been blocked off by road work and you’d been diverted down one of the smaller side alleys.  “Shit,” Steve cursed.  “FRIDAY, assemble the team immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” FRIDAY replied.

“I’ll go now,” Sam said.  “Scout ahead.  Maybe I can get to her before they do.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said, quickly flicking through the possible alternate routes.  “FRIDAY, tell Geo to let his mom know what’s happening.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI responded.  Almost simultaneously the system began lightning up with calls to 911 reporting an attack.

“Shit!”  Steve cursed.  “Hill, tell the other’s what’s happening.  I’m going to suit up.”

He ran out the door and down to the armory, taking the stairs again because even the elevator couldn’t beat his quickest descent down the stairs.  He pulled on his armor as quickly as he could and by the time he was done Bucky and Bruce had come in.  

“They took her?”  Bucky asked in a panic as he quickly tried to get dressed in his armor.

“We don’t know for sure, but there’s a large attack in the city on her route,” Steve answered.  “I’m going now, catch me up when you can.”

“Tony is already on his way.  You want a lift with the Hulk?”  Bruce asked.

“Do you mind?”  Steve asked.

“For this?  No,” Bruce said.

Steve rubbed Bucky’s shoulder as he followed Bruce out.  The scientist took no time to release his anger when they reached the street, hunching over as his muscles expanded and twisted and his skin turned green.  The Hulk looked around for a moment to get his bearings, and then down at Steve.  “Which way?” He grunted.

Steve pointed and the Hulk picked him up and jumped.  The Hulk couldn’t fly, but the leaps he took were so large and so fast that it was almost as good as.  It wasn’t long until the sounds of sirens and gunfire reached them, and soon after that, Sam and Tony came into view, circling a scene of chaos on the ground.  Police were scattered through a five-block area, trying to get people out to safety, and putting up roadblocks.  Large groups of people dressed in dark green bodysuits fired into the crowd.  “What’s the word?”  Steve said when Hulk dropped him to the ground and charged into the group of HYDRA agents.

“They just swarmed her,” Sam said.  “The car is there, and the driver is dead.  There’s no sign of either her or Geo.”

“No one saw which way they went?”  Steve asked as he charged into the crowd after the hulk, throwing his shield at the enemy to clear his way to the car.

“Sorry, Cap,” Sam answered.  A lot of the witnesses were eliminated immediately, and the ones that weren’t are in shock.  There are vague ‘we saw them being pulled into a black van’ but Tony and I have been doing sweeps and the only black vans we’ve seen aren’t it.”

“What the fuck?”  Steve said as he rushed to the car.  Tony didn’t even call him on his language, and Steve almost wished he had.  The car hood had been crushed by something and the driver was dead behind the wheel.  Both doors hung open and when Steve looked inside he saw Geo’s backpack, tablet, and your purse scattered over the back seat.

Steve felt like part of his heart had been ripped out.  A group of HYDRA swarmed on him and he quickly fought them off.  “How are there so many of them?”  Steve asked.  “I thought we’d weeded them out.”

“You know what they say, Cap,” Tony replied. “Cut off one head…”

“... and two more… Yeah, yeah,” Steve replied.

Steve looked around and ran out of the alley in the direction he hoped they might have driven off in.  There were rubber marks on the road, the kind left when a car peels off quickly.  “Tony, Sam, the vehicle that took them took off to the west.  It was definitely heavy.  I’d say a van or a truck.  Scan anything that might fit that.  They may have cloaking.”

“On it,” Sam said, swooping off to the west.

“FRIDAY, we need to do roadblocks, search all heavy vehicles,” Steve added.

“Sending in the request to the NYPD now,” FRIDAY responded.

Steve was about to jump back into the fight and see if he could question one of the HYDRA agents - not that he thought it would do any good - when Bucky appeared.  “Steve, what happened?  Where are they?”

Steve shook his head, feeling that cool exterior starting to crack now that Bucky was here too.  He took a deep breath, attempting to pull it together even though all his body seemed to want to do was let himself break down in his lover's arms.  He closed his eyes for a moment and shook it off.  “We’ll get them back, Buck,” he said, putting his hand on Bucky’s arm.  “We have to.”

// NEXT

[the-sympathetic-villain]

I Know What You’re Going To Say - Chapter 3

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: A Beauty and the Beast style Vampire AU. Vampire!Virgil has picked up  Logan off the street and is holding him captive under the threat of killing his friends if he tries to escape.  

Word Count: 4275

Chapter Warning: Mentions of Parental Neglect/Control, Mind Control, Crying, Corruptions, Mentions of Police (Let me know if I missed anything!)

---

    Janus stirred the coffee in front of him quietly as he peered out the window of the decrepit all-night diner. He felt a tightness welling in his chest as he traced back the night's events that had somehow ended with him here. Rain pattered on the window. Each wet streak glowing with the reflections of the bright pink, neon signs that the owners had seen fit to hang on nearly every surface of this godawful place. His lips twitched with disgust as he glanced down at his watch, checking the time yet again as he stared down the near empty streets.

    The kid was late. Ten minutes. The simple thought made his stomach twist with anxiety. After leaving Virgil, finding his prisoner’s friend had been almost comically easy. Virgil had his home address. A quick flight had him peering through the man's windows in under half an hour, but the passing glance he'd gotten was enough for him to guess where man had gone.

    He was already half the way down the street when a message from Virgil confirmed that the man’s work address. Less than an hour after leaving Virgil, he was being served by the very man he for which he'd been searching. Janus smirked at the simplicity, humming to himself contentedly as yet another car swept by outside sending wave of dirty water onto the curb.

    Still, Janus could hardly complain. Virgil had certainly sent him on worse missions, and though the dingy, over-lit diner was an eyesore, the man serving him was putting on quite the show as he flitted between the glistening, chrome surface of the bar. The subtle eyeliner flared to a perfect point as winked at the cook through the serving window.

    Janus smiled, eyes lingering a bit too long on the handsome waiter as he distracted himself from the empty streets outside. Truly, he was grateful for the late night hours as the lack of customers meant minimal effort for him to keep prying eyes away from his all to recognizable face. Being a vampire had its perks, after all. On a mere whim, the other customer’s gazes slipped over him like he was a mere shadow. Only the charming waiter he was currently staring had been allowed to catch a glimpse of him sitting alone in the booth.

    The waited with the golden hair had immediately recognized him upon bouncing up to the table to take his order, but fortunately, the guy didn’t seem to be the squealing type. A note which Janus would very much be filing away for later as he watched the man melt under his control. It had only taken a few, short words to make the man forget he had recognized Janus and hand over his phone.

     Janus bit his lip at the memory. The sight of the flamboyant waiter suddenly soured in his mouth as he remembered why he was here. The texts he’d read on the man's phone had indicated the kid was supposed to be here at midnight. His eyes flicked up to the retro-looking clock as it read a quarter past the hour. From the texts he’d gleaned that the kid's parents had reluctantly agreed to drop the kid off with his starry-eyed server, Roman, but the mystery of the late-night hand-off had not been resolved by the golden boy's texts.

     Janus tapped his fingernails on the cheap plastic tabletop as the golden boy himself glanced up at clock above the bar nervously. He stared curiously as his façade of nonchalance broke for the first time, revealing the underlying anxiety brewing behind the sweet smile. Janus blinked as the man disappeared behind the bar, allowing his attention to drift back to the rain-soaked window once more. He stirred his coffee absently as watched the glowing headlights rush past.

    The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, barely obscuring the hazy view of the streets outside. He'd almost turned back to watch the golden boy when a slim black car caught Janus’ attention. The sleek, tinted windows of the strange car stood out among the tattered, worn down streets. Janus sat up straight as the car pulled up next to the curb and the back door popped open to reveal the reddish-brown hair of the kid he'd been waiting for.

  Not a moment was spared on goodbyes. The kid immediately bound to the door of the diner, slamming the car door behind him. Janus didn’t see that it mattered however, as the car was gone before the kid even made it to the door. He let out a soft breath, turning to watch as the golden boy gleefully rush to the door with a slightly manic look in his eyes.

    The interaction should have filled Janus with relief. Seeing the kid in the man’s arms meant the most difficult part of his job was done. All he had to do now is watch the kid for a few days, but something about the simple interaction he'd just watched set him on edge.

    Janus’ tension only seemed to ease as he watched the golden boy sweep the boy up into his arms, whispering to him in hushed tones. They stayed like that for a solid minute, before the bouncing waiter finally started to drag the kid to a booth. A few moments later, they were walking towards his booth and his former human instincts and he averted his gaze. Logically, he knew their gaze would pass over him, but the compulsion to be polite seemed to be far stronger in his brain.

    “Where’s your coat, Pat?” The man whispered as he guided the kid into the seat behind him.

    “He—uh, he didn't let me take it.”

    The kid’s mumble was almost incoherent as the man stopped abruptly next to the booth, staring as the kid slid onto the vinyl seat behind him.

     “What?”

     There was a long pause as the golden boy stared down at the kid. Janus could almost feel the heat in the kids cheeks as he squirmed behind him. “He said, if I thought I was an adult, I could act like it—and my stuff would be waiting when I came to my senses and went back.”

    “What a goddamn asshole, Pat.” The golden boy whispered in disbelief. Immediately, he seemed to backtrack until the kid interrupted him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t swear in front of y—"

    “They also said some nasty things about Lo before I left.” The kid's voice trembled as he tapped on the cheap plastic table

    “It wasn't true. Whatever they said, Logan has done nothing but care about you.” The golden boy's deep voice reassured him. “He has everything set up. You won't have to worry about a thing.”

    “I know. I just—”

    Janus' heart twisted with guilt at sadness in the kid’s voice.

    “Where is—"

    “Listen, I'm going to grab my jacket for you, Starlight. You’re absolutely shivering. I'll be—” The man stopped him abruptly. “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

    “Okay, Ro.”

     Ice seized Janus' heart at the confused tone of the kid's and he jerked his head around to watch the golden boy’s head disappear behind the bar.

    He doesn’t know his brother is missing.

    The realization hit Janus like a brick wall as he glanced over his shoulder at the back of the kid’s head. His shoulders were slumped as he leaned forward to fidget with the basket of sugar in front of him. Janus blinked as he turned around, barely able to process what was happening. As he slunk back into his seat, Janus slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Virgil in his phone.

    J: Got eyes on the kid.

    V: he's safe?

    J: He's fine I think.

    V: what does that mean?

    J: Kid doesn’t know his brother’s missing, Vee.

    V: what

    V: wait how close are you?

    A sudden, sweeping motion in his periphery caught Janus’ attention and he turned his head to see the golden boy making his way back in their direction.

    V: Jan what's happening?

    J: Update later.

    Janus bit his lip guiltily as he typed the quick response, shoving his phone back in his pocket. His phone immediately buzzed a response. He turned his head, casually reaching into his pocket to silence his phone as he watched the pretty waiter make his way back to the table. The man was effortlessly balancing three plates on top of carrying the jacket he had swung over his arm. He moved quickly across the room and only stopping to gracefully slide the plate across the table to the kid and throw the jacket at him.

    “Eat up, Pat.”  The charismatic waiter’s voice almost seemed deflated now. His tension seemed to release now that the kid was here, replaced by a much more somber tone. “I'm taking off early tonight so we can get you to sleep at a decent time.”

   “Where’s—”

   “—I'll be back in a minute to grab you.” Janus’ stomach tightened as the golden boy tactfully brushed off the kid’s question. “Hopefully the rain will let up for the walk home not to be a miserable affair. I don’t want you to get sick.”

    “Okay.” The kid whispered, sounding a little deflated.

    “Hey, don't be like that.” The waiter's incredibly charming voice echoed in his ear from behind him. Janus could feel a scuffle in the booth behind him as the waiter ruffled the kid's hair. “It’s good to see you here, Starlight, but please just try to cut me a little slack tonight.”

    “Sorry. I promise to be patient.” The kid’s shy whisper shook slightly as if taken off guard by the waiter’s light reprimand. “Thanks again for letting us stay with you, Ro.”

    “You don't ever have to apologize to me, Starlight.” The golden boy seemed to tense slightly at the kid's change in demeanor. “Even if it weren’t for Logan, my door is always open to you. You’re family, kid.”

    Janus heart twisted at the bittersweet sentiment. This kid really had no idea what was going on and Janus wasn’t even sure the server planned on telling him. Stirring his coffee absently, images of the kid's brother tied tightly in Virgil’s binds flashed through the front of his mind. His eyes flicked to the side as the waiter backed away from the table, still talking with poor child.

    Soon, the server returned to his duties, leaving a heavy silence hanging over him. A bitter taste settled into the back of Janus' throat as his thoughts fell into a dark spiral. Virgil could be feeding on the guy now, as his brother innocently picked at his food. Even if he wasn’t, Janus could still see the red, irritated welts on the guy’s wrists perfectly in his mind. He—

    “Excuse me.”

    Janus nearly jumped out of his skin as the kid tapped on his shoulder from behind him, somehow breaking straight through his glamour. Fortunately, his instincts kicked in and he dropped his head, keeping his face hidden from the child leaning over the barrier and into his booth.

    “Can I borrow your ketchup?”

    “What?” Janus incredulous tone must have registered as odd to the kid, because he suddenly started to explain the simple question.

    “The bottle at this table is almost empty and I—”

    “Yes. Take it.” Janus snapped, cutting off the kid's explanation as he hastily shoved the red bottle into the kid's open hand.

     “Thanks.” The kid's voice sounded almost hurt and almost certainly taken aback at Janus’ abrupt cut into his attempt at a friendly inquiry. “I'm sorry to bother you, sir.”

     Janus' stomach twisted as the kid turned back around and slumped back into his seat. He cast a quick glance back at the kid, stilling as the kid’s  body language slouched. He knew for a fact, it wasn’t worth getting involved, but despite his wariness, Janus was getting the idea this kid was used to being shoved aside and he didn’t want to be the one to do that to this kid.

    Fuck. Virgil is going to flay me alive.

    “You didn’t bother me.” Janus whispered hesitantly, forcing himself to keep staring forward as the kid turned toward him.

    “What?

    “You surprised me is all.” Janus muttered. “No harm done, kid.”

    “Patton.”

    Now, it seemed it was Janus’ turn to turn back over his shoulder, dumbfounded, but the kid had already faced forward.

    “And I'm not a kid.”

    Janus smirked, turning forward to stare out the wall of windows. “Come now. You look like you can't be more than fourteen.”

    “I'm sixteen.”

    Sixteen.

    Janus blinked in disbelief at the kid's age and chewing his cheek at the kid’s slight defensive tone. “Still it’s a little late for someone as young as you to be out and about on this side if town .”

    “Legally, I'm adult.” Patton muttered. “I'm—I'm emancipated.”

    “Legal don't mean shit here, kid.” Janus stared down at his coffee, remembering the look of despair on the kid's brother's face as Virgil had loomed over him. “You’re going to have to learn that real quick, if you plan on staying here.”

    “I'm staying.”

    “No offense, kid, but I saw the car that brought you here.” Janus whispered, stirring his coffee absently. “The streets are going to eat you alive, if you aren’t—”

    “My brother knows what he's doing.” The kid snapped, though he seemed to be losing steam. “He's got a plan. I know he does.”

    “I sure hope he does, Patton,” Janus paused, chewing on his thoughts as the kid’s name passed his lips.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the boy’s new guardian making his way back to his table, so he quickly pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty on the table for the coffee he had hardly touched. He tensed with resolution as he moved to leave the booth. “But even if he doesn’t have a plan, I think you’ll find he has allies in unexpected places.”

    “What?”

    Janus could hear the kid turn around as he stepped out of his booth, but he didn’t even pause. He straightened his hat on his head as flared up the collar of his long coat.

    “Don't give up, kid.”

    “Wait—What are you talking ab—”

    The kid's call died out as he strode out of the restaurant, pushing past the concerned waiter who was rushing back to the table to collect the kid. Janus sighed, frustrated as he pushed open the double doors of diner and swept down the street, taking a swift turn into the alleyway behind the restaurant.

    Janus’ breaths came in short gasps as he paced the alleyway with a fierce intention. Fury flared in his chest as his body filled with indignation on the kid's behalf. His pace had nearly peaked when he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He snarled as he noticed the already lit screen, barely resisting the urge to smash the phone into the wall as he caught Virgil’s name on the screen. Janus' pacing stilled. His anger burned white-hot as he considered letting Virgil worry, but his sudden desire for a fight won out as he clicked the green button and snarled into the receiver .

    “What?”

    “What the hell, Janus?” Virgil growled into his ear. “You don’t get to just ghost me whenever you feel like it—”

     “I can’t do this.”

     The line went silent for a long minute as Janus breathed into his cell. He sighed, releasing a bit of his anger as he leaned into the wall.

      “This kid is already asking questions about his brother. It’s only a matter of time until he realizes he's not coming home.” Janus hissed. “Even this guy’s friend seems like a decent human. He's still planning on taking the kid in even knowing his friend’s gone—”

    “Janus—”

    “No. Tell me, Virgil. When did we start doing shit like this to good people?” Janus leaned off the dumpster behind him as his diatribe intensified. “I didn’t sign up for th—”

    “Maybe, if you gave me a chance to speak, I’d—”

    “Where’s my brother, Roman?!”

    The blood-curdling shriek sent Janus flying behind the dumpster. He'd barely managed to crouch out of sight he heard a scuffle at the entrance to the alleyway.

    “Quiet!”

    Janus hesitantly peeked around the corner to catch a glance of the golden boy dragging the kid into the alley. His fangs started to extend as the full-grown man pressing the kid into the wall of the other building, covering his mouth with his hand so he couldn't call for help. Adrenaline shot through Janus’ body as he prepared to lunge into action.

    “I need you to relax, Pat.” The waiter’s deep voice sent shivers down Janus’ spine, but his tone was kind and patient. “I'm going to tell you, but your father can’t hear about this. If he does, you’re going to end up right back at home.”

    Janus’ muscles eased as the golden boy's grip slackened, even though the kid seemed far from settling as he squirmed in the man’s arms. Feeling the tension drop, Janus edged further into the shadows as he glanced at his phone, grateful that Virgil seemed to have picked up that he needed to remain quiet.

    “Come on, Starlight. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” The man’s voice trembled, nearly fading to silence. “I'm lost, too.”

    The kid, Patton, seemed to go slack in the man's arms at the slight tremble in the man's voice. Janus’s heart ached as he stared at the kid. The wet streaks on his face glistened in the light of the streetlamp and he looked even younger than he had in the diner.

    Just a kid.

    “I don't know where Logan is, Pat. He disappeared last night.”

    Janis could feel the energy in the air shift as the kid started to shake his head violently. He threw his whole weight into the man holding him against the wall, knocking the man's hand free of his mouth.

    “No—no, no, nonono—”

    “Don’t panic. We're going to find—”

    “What happened, Roman?”  The kid's voice cracked as he backed away from the man, swaying unevenly on his feet.

    “I don’t know, Patton. We were walking home from the diner last night and—” Roman hovered close to the kid, desperate to comfort him but cautious about antagonizing him. “I don't know what happened after that. I woke up in my bed, and—and Lo never came home.”

    Janus leaned closer, staring as his fangs slowly retracted. Patton continued to sway dangerously until the man came up to steady him from behind.

    “What did the police say?”

    Janus watched curiously as the man's expression shifted and he suddenly gripped the kid tighter. “I couldn't call them, Pat.”

    “What?!”

    A shiver ran down Janus’ spine as the kid's shriek filled his ears and it a was a long moment after that before he even processed the man's words. He glanced down at his phone, knowing Virgil was probably listening as intently to this conversation as himself.

    The guy didn't call the cops.

    “Logan was very clear about what he wanted me to do if something happened to him. His priority was always making sure you were safe first—”

    “Not if he's missing, Roman.”

    “He told me exactly what he'd want me to do if he went missing, Patton” Roman whispered staring over at Patton. “and that means making sure the police don't find out he's gone.”

    “Why—”

    “Your father has the police under his thumb,” Roman stepped closer to Patton, wrapping his arm around him. “One of the conditions of your emancipation was having a place to live with your brother. If he’s gone, the judge could throw out the decision, especially with a district attorney whispering in his ear."

    “He knew?”

    “God, no. Pat, he wanted to be here waiting for you. He planned to be at the diner when you arrived,” Roman stepped forward, gripping the kid’s shoulders as he forced him to make eye contact. “but Lo spent hours planning for anything that could possibly go wrong. He wanted to know that you were taken care of, even if something happened to him.”

    Patton continued to stare at the ground, shaking. “Roman, he could be hurt—”

    Janus sucked in a breath through his teeth, glancing down at his phone.

    “I've already got Rem on it. We're going to find him.” Roman whispered. His voice dropped quiet enough that Janus could barely make out the words. “I'm not giving up on him. Okay?”

    The kid's face paled and Janus could only guess he was barely standing by the way he continued to sway. Silence hung over them for longer than Janus was comfortable with, but the man holding his shoulders waited patiently until the kid responded.

    “Okay.”

    “Good,” Roman turned the kid's shoulder to walk him out of the alley. “Now, let’s get you to bed."

    “Ro—” Patton slowed

    “Don't argue, Pat. You’re not going to do Lo any favors by depriving yourself of sleep.” Roman placed a hand on the Patton's back in gentle reassurance. “We'll meet up with Rem first thing in the morning and go from there.”

    “’Kay.”

    The kid's mumble faded as they left the alley and Janus rose out of the shadows as they turned the corner out of the alley. He bit his lip, staring after them as he unmuted his phone and lifted the receiver to his ear.

    “Do you feel like an asshole yet?”

    “You know,” Virgil’s voice growled in his ear. “Your biting sarcasm loses its charm very quickly.”

    Janus bristled as Virgil brushed him off. “I'm done, Virgil. Return the guy or I'm—"

    “No.”

    Janus snarled silently. “Fine, then I'm out. Best of luck with whatever bastard plan you’ve—”

    “Stop.” Virgil muttered, his voice full of reluctance. “Please, just hear me out.”

    Janus' thumb hovered over the button, but the subtle plea in Virgil’s voice gave him pause not to hang up. He sighed, raising the phone back to his ear. “You have exactly thirty seconds to change my mind, Virgil.”

   Virgil didn’t hesitate a second with his response. “Do you remember when I got into that fight a few years ago?”

    Janus paused, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He slowed his pacing, staring curiously out the alley in the direction the kid had left as he replied hesitantly to Virgil. “Yes, I do.”

   Virgil's let out a long breath into the receiver. “This guy is the guy I fought, Janus.”

    Janus blinked, mouth hanging agape. “Oh.”

    “I know how this looks, Jan,” Virgil breathed quietly. “but this dude put me in the hospital because I said something he didn't like. However upset the kid is about his brother being missing, he’s safer without this monster.”

    Chewing his lip, Janus paced back and forth in the alley. His body tensed as he tried to process his friend’s words.

    “Janus?”

    Janus let out a long sigh, pressing his thumb into his temple. “I'm here, Virgil.”

     Static crackled in the phone's speaker as the silence hung over them. Janus glanced up at the amber street light tapping his fingers on his arm as a group of people passed the alley. Their laughter broke the fragile silence, grating against Janus’ ears.

    “I'm not the only bad guy.”

    “You’re not—” Janus repeated back without hesitation. “You’re not a bad guy.”

    He could hear Virgil’s breathy snort through the phone as he stifled a chuckle. “You seem awfully sure about changing your tune so quick.”

    “I am.” Janus muttered, stepping towards the street.

    “Janus,” Virgil’s sharp inhale stilled Janus pacing as he awaited Virgil’s response. “we're good?”

   “We're good, Virgil.” The corner of Janus' mouth twitched up at the relief in Virgil’s voice.

   “Good.” Virgil’s voice wavered with emotion and Janus smiled at the subtle show of vulnerability. “Now please, make sure that kid gets home safely.”

    “I will.” Janus smiled, leaning into the stone wall across the alley from the diner.

    “Thank you.”

    Janus paused for a moment, smile faltering as the situation that had just unfolded before him continued processing in his mind. "Vee?"

    "Yeah, Jan?"

    "He didn't call the cops."

    "I know. Something's up with these people," Virgil's voice dropped as he let out a long sigh. "We'll figure out what's going on, but for now, let's just be glad we don't have heat breathing down our necks. Okay?"

    "Okay." Janus nodded absently, trying to relax. "You're right."

    "It'll be fine."

    "Right. I know."

    "Jan, relax." Virgil whispered patiently. "You're safe. There ain't nothing bigger or badder on those streets than you."

    Janus cracked a smile, chuckling as he stood up from the wall. "Oh, I know."

    "Keep me updated."

    Janus grunted an affirmation, and a moment later, the line disconnected. He sighed, quickly dropping his phone from his ear into his pocket, feeling a familiar numbness settle into his limbs as stepped out onto the sidewalk. The scent of the golden boy’s cologne was easy enough to catch as he turned down the street towards his target. He swept around the next corner, thoughts wandering as the streets began to blur together. He bit his lip, shoulders curled forward even though he couldn’t feel the sharp bite of the cold. The amber lights illuminated him as he closed the distance between him and the kid, not that he noticed the buildings as they blurred past as he disappeared into the night.

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

I Know What You’re Going To Say Taglist:

@theoddkidnextdoor @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @im-actually-ok @justanoymous

[blakelywintersfield]

As a victim of gun violence myself, I will be keeping my guns, thanks. Fear mongering? Maybe a little bit the fact is politicians absolutely “hell yes I want to take your AR15, your AK47”. They’ve said it often and loudly that they would like you to be disarmed. If you feel no one in your home is mentally stable enough for a gun, great, but you have zero right to tell others they should do the same.

1. If you're a victim of gun violence then the NRA gives absolutely NO fucks about you. You're not a victim of gun violence in their eyes, you're a victim of a criminal who happened to have a gun. Calling it "gun violence" is liberal propaganda to blame the gun, instead of the person. The gun didn't create the violence, the person did. That's their shitbrained logic and that's how they would respond to you if you told them (without disclosing if you're a gun owner or not) "I was a victim of gun violence." Because just like your dumb ass, they're not responsible gun owners, they're reactionary gun owners, and if you're reactionary as opposed to rational, you shouldn't have dangerous weapons, and your "you can't tell me what to do" 5-year-old attitude towards that would not hold up in a myriad of other scenarios. By your logic, suspending the driver's license of an elderly individual with dementia is unconstitutional. Not allowing someone with chronic seizures to drive is unconstitutional. Not allowing people to sell food without meeting safety and sanitation standards is unconstitutional. "You can't tell me what to do 'cause muh freedumb" isn't a fucking part of the constitution, you're just a chronic nationalist boot deep-throater whose mommy told him that the world owed him everything.

2. Where did I say guns should be taken away from you, or anyone else in my tags. Where? Here, I'll post the fucking screenshot of it and you can highlight it:

Please show me where I said "people should have their guns taken away" you reactionary cowardly fuck. I'll wait.

3. Politicians stating "no one needs a stockpile of AK47s" is not synonymous with "we want to take your guns". Gun buy-back programs that are VOLUNTARY are not the same as threatening to "take your guns". What benefit would you, as one person, gain from owning 5 semi-automatic weapons in the argument of "self-defense"? Are you going to wield one in each hand, one with each foot, and one with the mouth you can't seem to fucking shut? Do you think any of these weapons would protect you against government militia (which is what the second amendment is FOR, for one, and which the NRA does NOT condone if it's conservative sanctioned militia takeover) breaking into your property with a force of 10 people in bulletproof gear and military-grade weapons that could probably blow your fucking empty head off your body in one shot? Or do you like owning all of these shiny scary-looking toys for intimidation, thinking it'll protect you from future violence, like a fucking Halloween house made to scare away children? If that's your reasoning, then you definitely need therapy because that's textbook maladaptive coping with trauma -- I'd know because I have my own array of self-defense weapons that I got in response to my traumatic event, including a knife that could fatally gut an adult man with one stab. That's not a reasonable response to trauma!! But at least I can admit it! Your pisswad ass on the other hand can't, and views anyone saying "the NRA is a shit organization that doesn't support responsible gun ownership or the responsibility of gun owners and their actions, and is essentially a domestic terrorist grooming organization" as an attack on you as an individual, because you can't stomach the idea that maybe, just fucking maybe, you may be on that list of people who shouldn't have a gun because you're too mentally fucked up to be trusted with something like that, like people who are chronically suicidal (in other words, the MAJORITY OF GUN RELATED DEATHS), people with psychotic tendencies that can lead to hurting themselves or others (not because people with psychosis are "scary evil people", but because those moments of psychosis literally keep a person from making rational observations and decisions, and these individuals are already advised to have possible harmful tools locked up or just not in the house for their own safety), people like incels that believe if their entitlement is denied that they have the right to murder, etc. Honestly, you do sound like someone who shouldn't have guns, because your unstable ass probably read up to the second tag and skimmed the rest in a blind rage before sending an ask two days after I made that post, and seemed to conveniently miss the end:

What's your reasoning for the NRA keeping silent about responsible black gun owners being gunned down by police because the cops know they're legally registered gun owners (Jason Washington, Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, whom the NRA defended being murdered by police while pulled over for a traffic violation, in his car with his wife and CHILD, and verbally informed the cop like a responsible gun owner that he had a conceal and carry permit, and was reaching for his wallet in plain view of his family and the fucking pig)? What's your reasoning behind them callously dismissing police violence against black people who are unarmed or have a history of supporting gun control (Botham Jean, Clementa Pinckney, fucking JAMES SHAW JR., WHO STOPPED A MASS SHOOTING WHILE UNARMED HIMSELF), as though that makes it their fault they were murdered, injured, or otherwise victimized? What's your reasoning behind them only piping up about "muh guns" whenever politicians say "there's a gun problem" after the 29th public shooting that month, but not tackling the issue of gun control disproportionately impacting people of color while letting crazy little white kids run loose with a multitude of firearms? What's your reasoning behind them siding with idiot fascist Trump's temper tantrum over the NFL's protests on police violence -- something they, once again, consistently respond to with "they should've been armed" if the black person wasn't, and give complete fucking radio static to if the black person was armed (even if legally armed)? They're so against gun control, but never seem to care when it affects black and brown people -- only when Jack Incelson, age 16, who posts on 4chan about how he wants to cut women's heads off and fuck their dead bodies, is at risk of not being allowed to keep his AR15. If people of color are killed while armed, it's justified because "they had a gun"; if people of color are killed while unarmed, it's their fault because "they should've had a gun" -- this is something the NRA is notorious for, because they don't give a flying fuck about people who should have the right to arm themselves.

4. On that point: I fully support the Socialist Rifle Association, even as someone who does not want to own guns -- because, as stated in the post you're shitting your diaper over -- I support organizations that vouch for responsible gun owners. The SRA holds irresponsible gun owners accountable. They actually support people's right to bear arms to defend themselves against tyrannical government forces. They are active in disaster aid, in environmental defense, in protecting people of color. I do not like guns but I 100% support the SRA, because they fight for people who do need to arm themselves to have that right, and I support that sentiment. I believe people of color should be able to arm themselves. I believe queer people should be able to arm themselves. I believe poor people should be able to arm themselves. But the NRA doesn't actively fight for any of those groups' rights -- the SRA does.

But you know what the SRA doesn't do? Send out unsolicited letters begging lower-middle-class white people for money so they can "fight the gun-hating liberals" from "taking away our guns n freedumb" and offering "i <3 guns" bumper stickers and shit in return. They don't view any political party as their friend because they know that Republicans and Democrats alike do not actually want you to be able to defend yourself against the government. They don't send fear-mongering letters full of hyperbolic bullshit to scare people into thinking that Biden or Obama or whatever Democrat is in the office is going to break into your house with police, beat your wife and children, and steal your guns while cackling maniacally over you as you sob "why mister president? why would you do this to your loyal and patriotic citizens?" The SRA opposes gun control laws that unfairly target demographics that are at the highest risk of police violence. The NRA does not, and, in fact, has a very heavily documented history of siding with conservatism, including making statements about things that don't even involve guns -- stating that American men are being turned into "second-rate women", outcried banning anti-queer discrimination and compared the ban to slavery, made a call to imprison people protesting against Trump's Cabinet picks, called the Women's March anti-American. These are all recent you shithead, so you must be purposely ignoring all of this to feel justified in defending this domestic terrorist organization, or you're probably a self-victimizing white man who can't handle being told no. Or maybe both. I don't know and I don't fucking care.

Don't fucking message me again. Unfollow me if you were previously following me and haven't already. Get some fucking therapy instead of crawling through strangers' blogs trying to find a reason to justify your irrational anger at them. And while you're at it, do me a huge favor, you cowardly fucking cunt: go to your nearest sex shop, buy 5 gallons of lube, pour them over your guns, and shove each and every one of them, fully loaded, up your ass. That way you can keep a close eye on them since your head is obviously already lodged up there.

Alternatively, you can eat shit and die.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Chapter 6: A Room with a View

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,359

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, death mention, crying

Author’s Note: So, I already answered this, but just in case anyone missed it: I update this series weekly and I am still editing the vast majority of chapters! Sorry if it’s coming out slower than expected!

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​ @voidnarnia​ @anonymousonion23 

Steve had no idea what he’d done wrong. Not a clue. But you were ignoring him. You sat farther away from him in English the past two days, and you’d been blowing off plans with him. You’d say that you had other plans, but he’d see you sat on the bleachers after school, watching the girls soccer practise or drawing in that book again. He still didn’t know what you were doing in that book and he was irritated by the fact that he could see you sat in your room some days, caught in a lie without knowing it, your nose caught in the pages in front of you, pencil in between your teeth, focused but unaware of an audience. Steve could see right into your room from his when your curtains were open and you often sat at your desk, working in your pads.

On the day that Mr. Lawrence announced the start for the final essay, Steve had had enough. It had been a week of this behaviour and he felt as though he deserved an answer. And he was sick of watching through the window. Tommy and Carol were busy every damn day chasing Billy Hargrove, Vicki had gone back after him too after their awful date, and Tina wasn’t his friend. Sure, he could bug Dustin, but that made him feel like such a loser. His only friends were a rag tag group of preteens and a weird girl who wouldn’t even talk to him! This was getting pathetic.

The bell rang before Steve could make his move and you were out the door before he could even open his mouth. Tina rolled her eyes as she passed him by, grabbing Tina’s arm to whisper loudly “God, how tragic.” making Vicki cackle loudly.

Steve booked it out the door, scanning the halls for you, but you’d already disappeared from sight. He spotted Samantha, but she was on the retreat. He chose not to chase her down, they’d never even had a conversation before and using her to try to get her to spill on her friend felt a bit shitty. So he decided to just take a walk, no harm in a walk, it was a nice day anyway, out by the field. He wandered out the gym doors by the car park. He shoved his hands into his blue workman’s jacket. The weather was still a bit too chilly to go without a coat, but the sunshine made it easier.

He spotted you and Samantha at the top of the bleachers. You had your hair up that day and your lavender bomber jacket draped around your shoulders. Carol had something similar, or maybe it was Tina, he couldn’t remember which one the pair blurred into one being in his mind.

Samantha caught Steve’s eye before you did. She leaned over to you with a smirk “Lover boy’s watching.” She whispered cheekily, pointing slyly at him.

You turned immediately. Steve was standing in the car park, a few smattering of folks on car hoods, eating packed lunches and watching the scene go down. He waved, taking a step towards you. You turned your attention away.

Samantha was baffled. A week ago, you were telling her all about the weird fun you were having with him, all smiles and laughter, and now you wouldn’t even look at him for more than a second. You wouldn’t admit it, but Samantha knew that he was something more than a friend to you. Nobody was this upset when someone cancelled plans.

Steve turned away without a word. He wanted to scream at you, his mind demanding to know what he had done wrong. He made a plan that afternoon, one he was certain might ruin everything for him.  

As soon as the three o’clock bell rang, Steve made a mad dash for his car. He didn’t leave immediately; instead he waited to see an expected sight. Once he saw you huddled and headed for the bleachers, he was sure that the girl’s team was practising. Then he drove off towards home, parking in his own driveway. His mother was home, a shock to him, but he still headed upstairs. The next part was tricky. He’d time out that practise ended at four thirty, but that you usually left at four since the walk was so long. At four twenty, he headed across the street. As always, the yellow Volkswagen sat in the driveway. He’d rarely ever seen it leave the driveway, but it gave him hope that someone was inside the house. You couldn’t be living alone as a senior. He bounded up the front steps, knocking on the door twice. He was nervous, switching his weight from his toes to his heels in a rocking motion forward and back, forward and back.

An older man opened the door. He had to be in his eighties, with age spots speckling him around his eyes like a second pair of wide frames behind his tortoise shell glasses.  He seemed suspicious of Steve, although that was probably because he was staring.

“Hello,” he stuck out his hand for the man to shake “I’m Steve Harrington, I’m a friend of Y/N.” the man didn’t take his hand, staying silent as he looked him over.

Steve pressed on “I was wondering if she was home, we were supposed to study together today and she said that she’d call when she got home but I haven’t heard from her.” He chuckled awkwardly.

From behind the old man, a woman’s voice called “Harold, who’s there?”

“One of Y/N’s friends, she home yet?” he called back, opening the door wider. Steve could see the pale yellow walls, sun stained from the large three panel window at the front of their house.

Steve watched as an older woman hobbled into the scene, back hunched and skin thin. She looked frail, her hair dyed to what Steve assumed was its original shade, her grey roots visible from the top of her head. She greeted Steve with a warm smile. Steve was quick to offer his hand to shake, which she took carefully. “Hi, Steve Harrington, it’s nice to meet you both.” He said quickly, smiling brightly at the pair.

“Well hello there, I’m Maude and this is Y/N’s grandfather Harold, it’s lovely to meet you.” She said sweetly. “Why don’t you come inside, Y/N should be home any minute.”

Maude hit Harold’s arm roughly and he let go of the door, letting Steve into the house. He quickly kicked off his shoes, noting the pair’s socked feet. He looked around the house. Every house on the street was one of three standard box deals, with specified details. His parents hadn’t paid for the window seat like your family had, but you didn’t have the open kitchen that his did; an extra yellow wall separated the space. He looked to the fireplace, an exact copy of his family’s before their renovation last august. He missed the grey brick they used to have. You had a large family portrait on the mantle. You were sat in the centre in your Sunday best, your grandparents flanking the outside, two other adults stood closest to you. Steve assumed they were your parents. You looked like your father.

“You have a lovely home,” he said, turning his attention to the pair who were watching him intently.

“Thank you.” Maude smiled “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Sure.” Steve wasn’t much for tea, but he was taught not to refuse something offered by his host. Maude hurried off, leaving him and grumpy old Harold alone.

“Y/N doesn’t bring boys around.” Harold announced when his wife was out of the room. Steve didn’t really know what to say to that, luckily he continued “So what’re you trying to do with my girl?”

“Study,” Steve said with a shrug. The man scoffed, but Steve pressed on. “She’s my partner for our English final, we’re supposed to be working on it today, it’s due soon.”

Harold nodded gruffly “Alright…” he took a seat on the couch, turning the volume back on. The Love Boat was on, a rerun of the episode with guest stars the Captain and Tennille, and Steve was certain that they’d both seen it before.

Maude came in with a tray, handing her husband a mug. It was hand painted, thick script reading ‘Happy Father’s Day’ on the front, the year 1974 written in smaller script underneath in blue paint. She handed him a plain white mug.

“Well, Steve, you’re free to go and wait for Y/N upstairs, her room is two doors to the right of the stairs, you can’t miss it.” She said, gesturing to the stairwell. Steve bid his thanks and headed up the wide carpeted stairwell.

Harold mumbled something to his wife that Steve couldn’t hear, only catching her response. “He’s young, he doesn’t want to sit with us old folks.” She laughed at her own joke and Steve smiled at their friendly banter. They reminded him of his aunt and uncle, they always joked in that sort of way, laughing at themselves before anyone else. It made him feel as if he were at home in the house; he was comforted by the casualness of existence.

Maude was right that the room was impossible to miss. The door was covered in childlike butterflies painted in purple puffy paint. When he opened the bedroom door, he was transported into a small, private art gallery. The room was covered wall to wall in fabric canvases, canvas boards, and paper sketches. Your desk was covered in paint splotches and doodles carved into the wood, there were glow in the dark stars and moons on the blades of your ceiling fan. You’d painted your ceiling into a buttery sunset. It was as if for the first time, Steve was seeing all of you. And you were absolutely incandescent.

His hands went to roam your shelves, filled with sketchbooks and art books and worn copies of the classics. Greedily, he grabbed the first black sketchbook he found its pages heavy and curled. A piece of masking tape on the cover read ‘Still Life, 1980’ in black Sharpie. He flipped over the cover. Every page was the same bowl of fruit, some plain sketches, some painted in acrylics or water colours, but the fruit changed in shape and structure with every flip, rotting more with each sketch until the image switched to a vase of sunflowers, a prim and proper version of the Van Gogh he’d seen a print of in his freshman year art class. He wondered if you’d been there, silently making your own master pieces. He wondered how many masterpieces you had hidden away in your big black book.

The door opened behind him before he could put the sketch book away. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” you snapped, bounding towards him. When your grandmother told you that your friend from school was upstairs waiting for you, you had a sinking feeling that you knew who it was. And seeing him rifling through your things made your blood boil.

Steve turned slowly, unsure what to say. You snatched the pad out of his hands “And who the fuck gave you permission to look at my stuff, you pervert!” You knew that he hadn’t done anything actually perverted, but you still felt violated.

“I can’t get you to talk to me, I figured coming here would at least make you see me.” Steve laughed a bit, unable to even process what was happening. In the back of his mind, he thought that this would be an effortlessly cool way to go about a solution. Like you’d see him in your room and think ‘wow…what an effort that was…’ Instead, you were furious.

“So, you thought that coming into my house without telling me, lying to my grandparents, and touching my stuff would make it better.” You raised an eyebrow, shoving your sketchbook onto the shelf.

“What was I supposed to do? You won’t answer my calls, you won’t talk to me, I can’t get you to look at me for more than a second and all I want to know is what I did wrong so I can fix it!” Steve cried, words tumbling out of his mouth. You both stared at each other for a moment, surprised by each other, your mouth hanging silently ajar.

You closed it fast, swallowing before speaking “You…you hurt my feelings.” You said softly, pushing past him to put distance between you, standing next to your desk and the window.

“How did I hurt your feelings?” Steve asked quietly, watching you carefully even as you stared defiantly out the window.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest “You cancelled our plans. For Vicki.”

“So?” Steve asked.

“So, I don’t cancel on you. I never cancel on you, especially not the day of. It hurt my feelings.” You explained, picking at a bit of lint on your sweater.

“Yeah, but I…” he tried to catch himself before he said something terrible, but you already knew what filled in the blank.

“What? You have more friends than me? Is that it?” you snapped. It was Steve’s turn to look away, but you pressed on. “You’re right, you do have more friends than me. But don’t act like I don’t have a social life without you. I do. Do you know how many games of Samantha’s I’ve skipped out on to help you study? How many practises she’s asked me to come and watch that I’ve said no to because I already had plans with you?”

“I don’t know…” Steve muttered. Embarrassment crept up his face. He felt like such a dick. In truth he had forgotten about your plans that day in the excitement of a date with Vicki. With hindsight in full effect he could see that he would’ve had twice as much fun with you eating greasy burgers then he did with Vicki driving around Hawkins.

“Well, it’s been a lot. And it’s not the fact that you went out with Vicki that upset me, you are free to date whoever you want. But can you please at least tell me if you’re cancelling a little sooner than mere minutes before?” you asked, your voice cracking on the end.

“Sure, yeah of course. I should’ve been doing that before.” Steve stumbled over his words to apologize.

“Okay.” You nodded “Now, why are you going through my shit?”

“I wanted to see more. This whole room is incredible.” Steve breathed, plopping down on your mattress.

“You think?” you asked quietly. In truth, you didn’t think that you were that good of an artist. You loved art, but you didn’t think you were exactly talented.

“It’s so cool!” you couldn’t help but laugh, or else you’d cry. Nobody ever talked about your art with such enthusiasm. Teachers only criticized mistakes and your mother and grandparents saw it as clutter. Samantha liked some stuff but she didn’t talk about it much. Even a simple compliment from Steve made you want to cry. You covered your mouth to avoid the tears.

Steve didn’t seem to notice, wandering the room to point out pieces he thought were interesting. He pointed to a canvas depicting the quarry. You’d camped out there one night in the summer; drawing until the sun fades out of the sky and then painting it out once you had it exactly right. “This one is just insane I mean it looks like it’s going to eat you whole, like it has teeth or something.” He exclaimed.

“You can have it.” You replied quickly.

Steve shook his head “No, I couldn’t I mean don’t you want it? For college apps or something?” he couldn’t take it, he’d feel too guilty.

You shrugged “I have enough stuff for at least three portfolios, you should have that one if you like it so much. It’ll make your room cooler.”

“Hey, my room is cool.” Steve pouted, making you laugh harder. He liked your laugh, it split your whole face open into a smile. And your smile looked as if it sat on a bed of clouds. He wanted to float along with it forever.

“Oh yeah, your pee wee t-ball participation trophy is real slick, it gets you all the chicks.” You drawling, bouncing on your mattress.

“Hey, you didn’t run when you saw it.” Steve shrugged, sitting down next to you.

“Eh, your baby sports escapades don’t frighten me. It adds character to know that you suck at something.” You replied. Steve thought briefly of the bat in his trunk and the weight of it mid-swing, connecting with a heavy skull. Better with a bat now then he was as an elementary schooler.

You both lay back on the mattress, staring up at the slowly turning fan. Steve turned to you “What’d you think of Vicki anyway?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Steve nodded “I think she’s a bitch.” Steve laughed loudly but you pressed on “She is! She’s so mean for no reason!”

“Yeah, she’s not cool. She spent our whole date bitching about people, saying a lot of shit about you.” Steve murmured.

“What’d you…” you didn’t know if you could ask how he responded. You bit your tongue before finishing the sentence.

Steve understood anyway “I told her the truth. That you’re a really cool chick and that she shouldn’t be such a bitch about people she doesn’t know.” He said simply, turning his attention back to the slowly moving stars.

You didn’t necessarily believe that he actually defended you. Still, you didn’t feel like arguing. Steve continued on in your silence. “So, do you live with your grandparents’ full time? Or do your parents just work?” he asked.

“Both,” you sighed softly “My mom’s not home very much so they take care of me. She’s a fashion photographer, travels all over the world for different magazines.”

“What about your dad?” Steve asked. He’d seen a younger man in the photo; he assumed that it was some kind of father figure.

“He died.” You muttered.

“Oh…” Steve didn’t know how to react to that. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize.

“She killed him.” You couldn’t help yourself from saying that. Anger still stewed into your bones whenever you thought about your parents.

“What?” Steve to fully look at you, flabbergasted.

“She worked him to death. She always wanted more and farther away from us. Trips to Europe, designer things, this stupid house. She killed him.” You wiped hard at your face, trying to keep the hot tears from streaming down your face. Steve didn’t say anything, he simply pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly into him and letting you cry. He patted your hair gently, trying to soothe you as best he could. He didn’t think he was very good at helping people in their pain. But you grabbed onto his middle and clung to him like a life raft.

“My parents aren’t that great either.” He muttered, unsure if he was helping at all. “They ignore me.”

“I-I’m sorry they do that…” you muttered, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. Steve melted. He absolutely melted. He was filled with the sudden urge to kiss you, which surprised him. He didn’t follow through with the urge; he didn’t know how you’d take it.

“I’m sorry he’s not here for you…” he replied, petting your hair softly. He stayed with you like that for what felt like hours, letting you cling to him and ruin his shirt with tears. He didn’t care. He needed to be there for you. He promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt you again. That he’d be more careful and pay more attention. He couldn’t bear to see you in this much pain again. He knew that you weren’t crying because of him, but if he could keep you from feeling even an ounce of this sort of pain again, he would.

He cared about you too much to ever let you suffer alone again.

[morningfears]

Marry Me

Rating: PG

Summary: “10, 12, and 13 with calum, maybe? like. maybe he proposes to you on the way to your parents house for christmas?” “I’ve been practicing this for weeks but now that I’m looking at you, I can barely remember my own name.” | “Marry me.” | “What did you say?”

Word Count: 1.7k

“Okay, I think that’s everything. Duke is with Mali, all the lights in the house are off, the gifts are in the trunk, the trash has been taken out - oh! Did we grab the cards off the counter?”

Calum stifles a laugh as he watches you rifle through your bag to find the set of holiday cards you’d had printed earlier. They’re cheesy, complete with the pair of you and Duke all in matching tacky sweaters, but they make Calum grin every time he spots them. They’re silly, something you’ll look back on and laugh about later, but he loves them and he knows your family will love them, too. He knows that they’re something you’d always secretly wanted and that they make you incredibly happy so he’d been sure to pack those first.

“Right here, love,” he informs you with a smile as he reaches into his backpack and tugs the little white envelope stuffed with cards out of the front pocket.

You smile, relieved and grateful for his foresight, before you lean over and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Thank you, babe,” you hum as you zip your own bag back up and toss it into the backseat with your suitcase. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It’s uttered offhandedly, a simple phrase meant to convey your gratitude as you settle into the passenger seat of his car, but your words weigh heavily on his chest as he rounds the vehicle and settles into the driver’s seat. He’s been thinking a lot lately, about what his life would have been like if you hadn’t entered it and what his future will be with you by his side, and he finds himself feeling more and more grateful to have you in his life. 

Before you, he’d suffered a terrible heartbreak that left him bitter and afraid. He stopped imagining futures in which he would live happily, growing old with a partner and children and a life full of laughter and joy. He stopped imagining love in the cards for himself. He didn’t believe it was possible, not after what had happened, but then he met you.

Your relationship started off slow, moving glacially as he worked through his own issues, and he’d been worried that you would leave him. It hadn’t worried him much at first, you wouldn’t have been the first person to leave, but the longer he spent with you, the harder he fell. As he glances over at you, settled into your seat with four years under your belt and a smile on your face as you scroll through the playlist he’d made for the drive, he can’t imagine a future without you in it and knows that he’s making the right decision as he thinks about the diamond ring sitting in the glove box.

He’d started thinking about it after Michael got engaged (in fact, talking about their engagement was the first time you mentioned marriage seriously and Calum was mildly surprised to learn that you really wanted to get married). He went ring shopping two months later and even borrowed one of your rings (one he knew you wouldn’t miss) to get it sized. He’d been worried that he wouldn’t be able to find the perfect one, you were always a tough person to buy jewelry for, but it only took two jewelry shops for him to find the ring that he knew you would love. Ashton had been with him and he’d helped him pluck up the courage to buy the ring and begin the mental preparation for when he’d actually propose.

Calum’s been waiting for the perfect moment. He’s practiced his speech a million times, memorized the words he wanted to share so desperately, but nothing ever feels right. There are too many people around or the mood isn’t right or one of you is busy. Nothing ever seems to go the way he wants it to but he grabbed the ring in hopes of proposing at some point during your holiday getaway. 

He’s been worrying about the logistics of proposing at home. Your family goes all out for the holidays with extended family visiting from all around to spend the day together. Your mother has taken on hosting duties for dinner so he knows that the pair of you won’t get any time alone until everyone goes to bed so he’s considering stopping somewhere along your three hour drive and popping the question in solitude.

And when he sees a sign advertising a waterfall, he decides that that’s the best option.

“Do you mind if we take a quick detour?” Calum asks as he watches for the exit.

“No, that’s fine,” you shrug as you glance at the exit signs, “what’re we detouring for?”

“There’s a waterfall. Thought it might be nice to see, get some calm before we see your entire family,” he teases gently as he makes his way to the exit.

“God, yeah,” you laugh as you watch the scenery change the closer you get to the waterfall, “it’s gonna be chaos. My brother and his wife are coming with all their kids. I love children but there are going to be so many of them in the house at one time.”

“Duke would love the attention,” Calum hums absentmindedly as he pulls into a corner of the little gravel parking lot. “He loves kids.”

“You’d think he wouldn’t, with him being so used to adults, but he’s just such a good boy,” you gush as you glance around the empty parking lot, “is this the part where you kill me instead of taking me to my parents’ for Christmas?”

“Shut up,” he laughs as he nudges your shoulder, “come on. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now. And I wouldn’t have done it when I knew your mom was expecting you.” Calum grins at the look your face, playful exasperation as you roll your eyes, and gestures for you to climb out of the car. “I’m going to grab my camera,” he tells you as he shifts toward the backseat. “I’m right behind you if you want to walk ahead.”

“Okay,” you nod as you fix your gaze on a sign, full of information about the fall, “I’m gonna go read that thing. I think your camera’s in the blue bag. Or maybe the green one.”

“I’ll find it. Learn about this place so you can bug me with random facts on the walk,” he laughs as he begins shifting through the bags. He laughs a little louder when you flip him off, a sarcastic smile on your lips, before you giggle and head over to the sign. The second you turn your back, he reaches for the ring box and shoves it into his coat pocket before he climbs out of the car and jogs over to you.

“Where’s your camera?” you question as you reach for his hand and tug him along toward the trail. “Did we forget it?”

“I think it’s in the trunk with the gifts,” he shrugs as he squeezes your hand. “Doesn’t matter. We have phones. Seeing the actual view is what’s important, making memories and shit.”

“What a romantic,” you tease as you glance at him from beneath your lashes, “no wonder you’re a lyricist.”

The rest of your walk to the falls continues in silence. You’re taking in the beauty of the world around you and Calum is attempting to control the rapid beating of his heart. He’s desperately trying to keep his palms from sweating and his breathing steady but walking the trail feels like running a marathon as he thinks about what awaits him at the end. He doesn’t think you’ll deny him, he’s fairly certain you’ll say yes, but he’s still more nervous than he’s ever been.

When the fall is in view, beautiful and magical and neither of you are sure why this place isn’t more populated, Calum lets you drop his hand and rush forward. As you gaze at the water, an audible murmur of wonder falling from your lips, Calum settles onto one knee behind you and waits for you to turn.

It takes a second, Calum almost calls out your name, but before he can, you notice his lack of presence and turn to find him. When you do, he can see the surprise on your face. You’re frozen for a moment, sheer surprise evident as you had given up hope of getting married (he never seemed as into the idea as you), before you take a few shaky steps closer to him.

“Calum,” you breathe as you reach out to take the hand he offered you, “what are you doing?”

“I love you,” he tells you as he clasps your hand in his, “I love you so much. I’ve been working on what I should say and I’ve been practicing this for weeks but now that I’m looking at you, I can barely remember my own name. I never thought I would want to get married, I wasn’t sure I would ever find a love like ours, but I did and I’m so grateful. Having you in my life has meant so much and every day, you make me want to be a better man just so I can deserve you. So, will you marry me?”

Calum watches as you blink back tears, your voice inaudible as you nod your head. Calum knows that you’ve agreed, knows that you’re saying yes, but he can’t help ask, “What did you say?” with a smile on his lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, voice shaking, “of course I’ll marry you! I love you.”

“I love you,” Calum returns as he stands from his position and pulls you into a kiss. The ring fits perfectly, like it was made for you, and Calum laughs when gasp at it. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful, thank you. I love it and I love you. Fuck, my mom is going to freak,” you laugh as you reach up to wipe your tears away.

“She’s going to freak if we don’t get there pretty soon. I’m so glad that you said yes,” he sighs before he pulls away and reaches for your hand. He brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles before he repeats, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you return as the pair of you head back toward the car.

You knew that Calum was it for you and he was just as sure. The pair of you would remember this Christmas for the rest of your lives and he can’t wait for every other Christmas to follow.

_______________________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I know I’ve been writing for PRETTYMUCH lately but, like. I’m super into them at the moment. They’re super talented and Zion’s just so fucking cute. He reminds me of Cal a little, tbh. Also, Nick. Very cute. Anyway. Enjoy this soft Cal. I’m gonna write some more. This is weird. I’ve written more in three days than I have in six months, wow.

[lady-divine-writes]

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “A Wonderful Christmas Timey-Wimey” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Crowley isn't feeling the holidays this year, which Aziraphale thinks is par for the course, what with him being a demon and all. With only a few days left until Christmas, Crowley runs into a girl who may change that for him.

A girl who mistakes him for The Tenth Doctor. (1945 words)

Notes: Written for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 prompt 'shopping'.

Read on AO3.

“Must you pick out every present for the toy appeal yourself?” Crowley asks, rearranging items on the shelf, replacing a few of the more popular toys with jars of pickled fish, tins of olives, and tubes of fungal foot cream. "This is so dull!"

"It would be less dull if you helped instead of complained."

"Mrr ... ngk ... urgh ..."

"You'd be brightening someone else's day," Aziraphale says to persuade him.

"Not really my department," Crowley replies. "You could always do what other shops do and put a donation bin inside your door.”

“Inside my door?” Aziraphale utters a disgusted noise. “You expect me to invite people into my shop on purpose!?”

“It would be for the good of mankind,” Crowley teases. "Well, child-kind, more accurately."

“I am not going to dignify that heinous suggestion with a remark,” Aziraphale mutters, walking to the opposite side of his trolley to escape his husband’s asinine ideas. 

"I still don't see why you need to do this yourself. I don't think braving a crowd of the entitled to buy useless junk for kids is going to earn you brownie points with Heaven."

“Buying presents is fun, Crowley, no matter who they're for! It gets me into the holiday spirit!”

“Not me. I’m not feeling Christmas this year.”

Aziraphale looks up and considers his gloomy husband. He'd thought this mopey affectation was simply per the norm. He didn't realize his husband was honestly feeling blue. “Have you felt the Christmas spirit any other year?”

Crowley shrugs. “Once or twice. It’s become such a vulgar holiday, hasn’t it? The commercialization, the greed, the false charity - such a far cry from the days when generous humans would leave presents anonymously on the steps of their needy neighbors. Nowadays, with social media, everything’s such a show. Look what I gave! Look who I helped! Look how compassionate I am!” Crowley grimaces. “Despicable.”

“I would imagine, as a demon, you would take pride in the change,” Aziraphale says icily.

“’m not that kind of demon, angel.”

“You’ve got a few days yet. Maybe you’ll come across something that will fill you with Christmas joy.”

“Doubt it.” Crowley goes back to the ruination of the shelves, snarling when his husband manages to set things to rights behind his back. He's preparing to remove the word not from the boxes marked batteries not included when he gets the distinct feeling that someone is stalking them. He stands straight and peeks down the aisle, eyes darting left and right behind his glasses so as not to be too obvious. Once he confirms his suspicions, he comes up behind Aziraphale and whispers, “Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“All the time,” Aziraphale says nonchalantly. “Because we are. The Almighty sees all, remember?”

Crowley rolls his eyes. What a frickin’ angel thing to say? “We’re not alone.” 

“Exactly! Didn’t you hear what I just …?”

Crowley steps in front of his husband, grabs Aziraphale’s head, and tilts it to the side. Aziraphale’s gaze follows. From around the end of the aisle, Aziraphale spots a pair of stunning green eyes, set in a face surrounded by a blonde bob, disappear into the doll aisle.

“What the …? Oh, dear …” 

"Wot? Wot's wrong?"

Aziraphale chuckles. "It looks like we have company.”

Crowley turns to see a woman headed their way, spurred on by a girl pushing her in their direction. The woman waves sheepishly. “Hello. I am so sorry to bother you.”

Aziraphale smiles. “It’s quite alright. Is there something we can do for you?”

“Kind of.” The woman glances sternly behind her when the girl gives her a shove. “My name is Sheila. This …” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the child they have yet to see completely “… is my little sister Freya.”

“Hello, Freya.” Aziraphale tries to maneuver around Sheila’s body to get a good look at the girl. He catches a glimpse, but Freya moves too quickly out of view for Aziraphale to get more than that. But from what he can see, she isn’t paying attention to him.

She’s focused on Crowley.

“She’s shy,” Sheila says. “But she asked me to come talk to you because she thinks …” Aziraphale hears the girl whisper, something only her sister can understand, and Sheila sighs. “I’m so very sorry, but she thinks that you …” She gestures to Crowley “… are … The Doctor.”

Crowley’s eyes go wide. “Doctor?” he repeats, confounded since, in all his long years on this planet, to his recollection, no one has ever mistaken him for a doctor. An undertaker, definitely. A forensic investigator, once or twice. A rockstar and, on occasion, an actor. But not a doctor. 

With a sudden spark, it hits him. 

Not a doctor. 

The Doctor. 

“Wait - Doctor. You mean like … Doctor Who, The Doctor?”

Freya giggles. Sheila’s cheeks turn pink. “The Tenth Doctor specifically, yeah. Again, I’m really sorry about this, but, uh …” Aziraphale reaches into his pocket and produces a handkerchief when Sheila chokes up “… our mum's just passed, and our dad's underway. He’s not going to be home in time for the holidays." She sniffles. "I'm afraid we've been suffering from a severe lack of cheer lately.”

“So it seems,” Aziraphale says sympathetically.

“And I thought that maybe if you didn’t mind … I mean, I know you don’t know us from Adam, but …”

While Sheila talks to Aziraphale, Crowley gets down on one knee to get a better look at Freya. She’s the most erratically dressed child he’s ever seen. But kids can get away with that, can’t they? She’s wearing oversized trousers, a floor-length coat, a shirt with a rainbow across the front, braces …

Oh, gee, he thinks. She’s dressed like The Thirteenth Doctor.

Freya sneaks a peek, lower lip sucked so far between her teeth, he can see every freckle on her chin.

He smiles and gives her a wink.

“Figured me out, did ya?”

Both Aziraphale and Sheila go silent when they hear Freya gasp.

“It is you!” Freya says, eyes so wide they start to compete with every other feature on her face. “My sis said it probably wasn’t you, but I knew it was! I just knew it!”

“It’s me,” Crowley says, not entirely sure where he goes from here. “But you can’t tell anyone you saw me, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry …” Freya motions zipping her lips together “… I won’t say anything to anyone! I promise!” She leans forward and whispers, “Where’s your TARDIS? I didn’t notice a police box outside.”

“And she looks,” Sheila says. “She really looks. Every time we leave the house.”

“Oh, uh, you know what? I got it fixed,” he says, quickly culling from one of the few pieces of Doctor Who trivia he knows. “The chameleon circuit? It's good as new.”

“It is?” Freya’s eyes light up as if she's hearing the most important news of her young life.

“It looks just like a regular old car now.”

“Really?”

“Yup. A big black car.”

“Wicked!”

Aziraphale doesn’t hear everything Crowley says to Freya, but that doesn’t concern him. Crowley has always been aces at dealing with children. And as Freya’s eyes become wider and her smile spreads, Aziraphale can’t help smiling himself. Crowley is a demon with a vivid imagination, and he’s using it to weave this girl a tale of wondrous, supernatural antics, which includes traveling through time with a man he calls his companion (whom Aziraphale realizes, with a flick of Freya’s eyes upward, is supposed to be him) as they attempt to save Christmas from …

“The Weeping Angels?” Freya looks about her, a mixture of anxiety and excitement turning her cheeks red. “I read that comic! About how you and Thirteen went up against them to save Earth! Are they back?”

“No. Even worse."

Freya's mouth forms a tiny 'o'. "The Master?” 

"Yes." Crowley echos her gravitas to make it appear he understands the dangers of being pursued by such a villain. "Hence my disguise, which you saw through brilliantly. Well done!"

“Oh, I could tell it was a disguise from a mile away!” she proclaims with the modesty of a child who has gotten one over on the adults.

“How?” 

“The hair! You’re ginger! But, between you and me, I’d tone it down.”

“You would?” Crowley says in a way that makes Aziraphale snicker, falling somewhere between engaging and offended.

“Oh, yes!” she says. “It’s a bit on the bright side. It’s a dead giveaway that it's fake.”

Crowley nods, fighting to keep his cool. It would do him no good to start bickering with a child over whether or not a fictional character should wear their hair his color. “Noted.”

Sheila watches Crowley interact with her sister, sees her smile for the first time in weeks.

Sheds a tear when Freya tells Crowley that he is, without a doubt, her favorite Doctor, and that when she sees him on the telly or reads about him in the comics, it makes her feel less sad and alone.

“Okay, Freya,” Sheila says, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her shirt. “I think it’s time for us to let these gentlemen get back to their business.”

“She means the mission,” Freya corrects for her.

“That’s right,” Crowley says. “But you know what? We’ll bump into each other again. Another time.”

“Yes,” Freya says in awe. “We will. Another time.”

Sheila takes her sister’s hand, but the girl breaks free and throws herself into Crowley’s arms, squeezing him tight. “Thank you, Doctor!”

It takes Crowley a second, but he wraps his arms around Freya’s thin body and squeezes back. “You’re welcome.”

“Come on, Freya,” Sheila says in a wobbly voice. “Let's go home.”

“Goodbye, Doctor! Goodbye, Doctor's Companion!”

"Goodbye, Miss Freya," Aziraphale says, amused to be relegated to the title of Doctor's Companion. His name must not be necessary, he muses, since she never asked it.

Freya takes her sister’s hand and pulls her from the aisle, telling her all the things Crowley had said about his and Aziraphale’s mission to save Christmas.

Crowley watches Freya and Sheila round the corner, the girl pausing a moment to give them one final wave before she skips out of sight. 

But Crowley doesn’t look away.

He stares thoughtfully after her, doesn’t snap out of it until Aziraphale puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course,” Crowley says, slowly falling back to Earth. 

"Shall we get going, too?"

"No," Crowley says in a distant voice. His eyes travel from the end of the aisle to Aziraphale's hand on his shoulder, down to the trolley half full of toys. With a hiccup, he picks up where they left off before Sheila and Freya stopped by, and Crowley became The Doctor. "No! You're nowhere near done! Wot? Were you only planning on helping five kids? Pfft!" Crowley clears his throat. "Would you mind if I, uh, picked out a few things, too? For the appeal?"

Aziraphale looks at him strangely. "You want to shop for toys?"

"You’ve only chosen the boring ones! The educational slop! No kid is gonna want half this stuff! I think that, maybe, you don’t have the knack.”

Aziraphale crosses his arms over his chest. “I don't have the knack?”

“Yes.”

“For buying toys?”

“Again, yes.”

Aziraphale grins. “Are you asking to help me brighten someone else's day?”

Crowley's cheeks go pale. “No! Maybe. Don’t look at me like that. You’re just buying toys. It’s not astrophysics. Look, turn down the halo, or I’m going home!”

[marvelslut16]

Milkshakes and fries

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Synopsis: Y/N and Steve take Dustin to the snow ball and get to know each other while they wait to pick him up. The two have a heart to heart over milkshakes and fries, will the two ever be more than just Henderson and Harrington?

Word count: 2140

Warnings: Swearing, there’s some but I don’t think I made Dustin swear enough. Oops. 

“Dusty!” you call to your little brother, who is getting dressed for the snow ball. “Harrington is here!”

“Give me a goddamn minute!” he hollers back.

“Language!” mom joins in on the yelling. 

“Dumb ass,” you laugh quietly as he walks into the kitchen. “But don’t you look handsome,” you smile down at him and push a rogue curl out of his face. 

“Can you ride with?” he looks up at you, there's a vulnerability in his voice that you’ve never heard before. His eyes are huge and giving you the puppy dog look, he’s trying to use humor to hide his nerves. 

“King Steve is taking you,” you frown. “Why would you want little old me getting in the way of your bromance?”

“Because you’re my big sister,” he admits quietly. “Plus I want a girl’s opinion.”

 Every part of you wanted to say no, to just send him off with Harrington so you could change into pajamas and watch TV with your mother. But you also heard the bad advice that Steve gave him to ignore Max and be borderline rude to her. 

“Fine,” you sigh, grabbing your coat that's draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. 

“Thank you,” he cheers throwing his arms around your midsection. 

“Mom, I’m taking Dustin to the dance,” you inform her as you walk through the living room to get to the front door. 

“I thought that Harrington boy was taking him,” she frowns at you, from her seat on the couch. 

“He is,” you sigh and slip your coat on before zipping it up. 

“I asked her to go with for the ride,” Dustin walks up behind you. “She’ll probably go do something with Steve until it's time to pick me up.”

“I never agreed to that,” you hiss at him.

“You just did,” he grins grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door. “Bye mom!” he calls over his shoulder. 

“Henderson, Henderson number two,” Steve greets the two of you as you head towards his car. 

Dustin shoves you the passenger's seat door, as he heads to the back of the car. You begrudgingly take the seat next to Steve “the hair” Harrington. 

“Which one of us is Henderson number two?” you try to break the silence a few minutes into the ride. 

“Dustin,” Steve takes one hand off of the wheel to run it through his hair. “He is the younger one,” he adds with a slight shrug. 

 “That’s bullshit!” Dustin calls from the back. 

“Now now Dusty, watch your language,” you mimic your mom. Steve laughs at your imitation as Dustin flips you the bird. “Love you too little bro,” you laugh.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dustin whispers to himself as Steve pulls up in front of the middle school.

“Hey,” you say softly, turning to face Dustin. “You’ll be a little heart-breaker in there. You look handsome, and you’re the sweetest guy I know. Once you get passed all of the swearing, that is.”

He smiles back at you, but you can practically hear him chanting shit in his head. “You have to say that,” he finally breaks the silence. “You’re my sister.”

“I don’t have to do anything Dusty, even if we’re related. I’m just telling you the truth.”

“So remember when you get in there,” Steve joins the conversation.

“Pretend I don’t care,” Dustin finishes. 

“You don’t care,” Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t care,” Dustin repeats. 

“There ya go, you’re learning my friend,” Steve smiles at him. “You’re learning.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you cut in.

“That’s great advice!” Steve defends. 

“That’s terrible advice!” you squint your eyes at the driver. “Just be confident Dusty.”

Dustin leans forward, ignoring your arguing with Steve, adjusting the rear view mirror so he can check his hair and face.

“Hey,” Steve whines since Dustin is messing with the angle of the mirror. “You look great. Listen to your sister and me, we’re practically adults. We know this stuff by now. Now, you’re going to go in there, look like a million bucks, and you’re gonna slay em dead.”

“Like a lion,” Dustin agrees, before purring.

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Steve cringes slightly.

“C’mon (Y/N/N), back me up,” Dustin looks at you.

“Sorry kiddo,” you give him a slight smile. “I agree with Harrington for once.”

“Okay,” Dustin sighs. He gives the two of you one last look before heading into the dance. You both watch as he walks in and hands his ticket to Mr. Clarke. 

“So what do you want to do now?” Steve asks, driving away.

“You can drop me off at home, I don’t want to impose on King Steve’s time,” you look down and twiddle your fingers. 

“Or we can go get something to eat,” it almost sounds like there’s a hopeful lift to Steve’s voice. “I could really go for a milkshake.”

“Milkshakes sound good,” you agree quietly. 

--

“I’ll have a chocolate milkshake and an order of fries please,” you smile up at the waiter.

“I’ll have the exact same,” Steve tell him. As the waiter walks away your booth is once again plagued in awkward silence. “So what do you want to do after graduation?” he asks.

“I’m not really sure,” you finally admit out-loud, it was eating away at you whenever your mom would talk about grades and graduation. “I always planned on going away to school, moving away from this town. But with everything that’s happened these past two years, there’s no way I can leave Dustin here. I’ll probably just get a job at the arcade or something. Save up enough money to move out eventually, or wait for some guy to notice me and we can start our nuclear family.”

“I’m sure Dustin would understand if you left,” Steve leans forward, and gently grabs your hand. “You clearly have so much love for him, but you need to do the things that you want to.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you laugh humorlessly. “You, you’re set for life Harrington. You have the house, the money, any girl you could ever want-”

“They’re all interested in Billy now. Or Jonathan,” he sighs and looks at his hands. 

“The point is, you have the luxury to be able to go off and find yourself, I don’t.”

“Money isn’t everything Henderson,” Steve’s brows furrow as he looks at you.

“Obviously not, I’m happy with next to none,” you you match his look. “But it does help in the long run. Plus you don’t have a little brother you would be abandoning.” 

Before Steve can respond the waiter comes back with two milkshakes and a giant plate of fries. You thank him and immediately take a sip of your drink. The waiter winks at you before retreating to behind the diner counter. You miss the frown and glare Steve sends the man. 

“What did happen between you two?” you sober up immediately and Steve chokes on his shake. “You don’t have to answer that! I was out of line-”

“So what about you?” you ask before biting into a fry. “What does post high school life look for King Steve?”

“Ya know, find a girl and start our very own nuclear family,” the two of you start to laugh. “Honestly? I have no idea. I was prepared to follow Nancy wherever she wanted to go, but we see how that turned out.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he gives you a small smile. “Nancy and I were never really a good fit, especially because a part of her hated me because she blamed me for Barb.”

”But that’s not fair,” you frown at him. Dustin had filled you in and told you that Barb was sucked into the upside down through Steve’s pool. “You never wanted any of that to happen.”

“And,” Steve continues. “I let Tommy H. and Carol say some pretty bad things about both her and Jonathan, I don’t blame her for choosing him.”

“You should have stopped your friends, but you aren’t a complete asshole. You deserve to be happy too,” you dip a fry into your milkshake. 

“So what about you?” Steve questions, shifting in his seat. 

“What about me?” your brows furrow. 

“Tell me about your love life woes,” he grins cheekily. 

“Uh,” you play with the hem of your shirt and stare down at the shiny tabletop. “There’s not much to say, I don’t really have people interested in me.”

“That’s bull,” he jaw drops a little and his eyes slightly widen. 

“Tommy H. and Carol used to spread rumors about me, but you already knew that. They said terrible things about my mom and how she was raising Dusty and me alone. They made fun of how I dressed, and the way I look. They even went as far as saying horrible things about Dustin,” your eyes start to water at the memories of their cruel words. Words that occasionally haunt your dreams, as stupid and weak as that may sound. 

“I never knew it went that far,” Steve’s voice softens, as he reaches over to squeeze your hand that's once again sitting on the table. You pull your hand away from him and shrink back into the shiny vinyl seat.

“But you still knew they made fun of me, and you just watched,” you frown at Steve. “That’s just as bad as being the bully Harrington. I’m really glad that you have this strange friendship with Dustin. He needs an older guy to look up to, so don’t screw that up.”

“He’s a good kid,” Steve smiles at you. “He’s taught me quite a bit in the short time that I’ve known him. He’ll be a way better guy than I was in high school. And (Y/N), I’m sorry for everything that Tommy H. and Carol did to you. I should have stopped them, I just never had the guts.” 

“Thanks Harrington, that actually means a lot.” you softly smile at him. 

--

The rest of your time at the diner went by quickly as the two of you joked and told stories from your childhood. Maybe Harrington wasn’t as bad as you assumed he was. He was actually a total dork, and kind of nice. 

Before you knew it, you were back in his car and speeding to the middle school to pick Dustin up. You were laughing at some lame joke that Steve had just told you as Dustin slips into the back.

“I see you two had a good time,” Dustin smiles, looking between the two teenagers in the front. 

“Harrington took me to get milkshakes and fries, so it wasn’t completely horrendous,” you grin like an idiot.  

“You liked my jokes, just admit it,” Steve grins back at you.

“They were terrible,” you start laughing.

“They weren’t that bad,” Steve murmurs as he starts to drive. 

“So Dusty,” you turn to face your little brother. “How was the dance?”

“I got to dance with Nancy!” a huge grin splits his face. Dustin has had the biggest crush on Nancy Wheeler for years now. However, you can’t bring yourself to be too excited for him, because of the man driving the car. You turn to face Steve nervously, you expect to see a clenched jaw and a white knuckled grip on the wheel. But what you see shocks you, Steve is leaning back in his seat and he lets out a little laugh.

“Well I’m sure it was great practice for prom,” Steve grins at Dustin through the rearview mirror. 

“Steve, you should take (Y/N) to prom,” Dustin smirks.

“What?” you choke on your spit. 

“It’ll be fun,” Dustin wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“I’m not even going,” your eyebrows furrow as you stare at Dustin.

“Why the fuck not?” he matches your frown. 

“First of all,” you give him a disapproving look. “I have no one to go with, and you can’t force Steve-”

“Steve huh?” Dustin’s eyes twinkle in humor at the change from Harrington to Steve. 

“Am I really that bad?” Steve turns to face you as he pulls into your driveway, there’s hurt written across his features.

“No!” you insist. “I just don’t want you to be forced to go with me.”

“So you’re saying that if I asked you would say yes?”

“No, probably not-” Steve cuts you off.

“Because you hate me?” his frown deepens.

“I don’t hate you!” your voice starts to rise out of nerves. “I would totally go with you, but-”

“So it’s a date,” Steve shoots you a goofy grin.

“What just happened?” you wonder as Dustin laughs from the back. Steve grabs your hand and places a gentle kiss on it, before winking at you.

“I just got a date with a beautiful and intelligent girl,” he grins from ear to ear.

Part 2

Permanent Tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​

[v0n-butch]

playing hooky

“Now a fun one... eleven and eighteen.” requested by @fortheloveofhargrove​

#11: “We could get arrested for this.”

#18: “Watch me.” from dialogue prompts

warning(s): alcohol, swearing

a/n: i love these prompts so much. hope you dig it !

—

You swore that you knew better than this.

You’d like to think you were raised right and had enough self respect to not fall under peer pressure like everybody else always did in cheesy high school movies or real life. Maybe right now you’re about to ditch the so-called ‘good girl’ philosophy, or handbook or whatever the fuck it was, to be free from the constraints that high school labels always puts on girls like you. Those bullshit stereotypes about smart girls that actually care about grades and education, saying that they’re all just bummers with no experience that will never learn how to let loose. Well, you’re through with all of it. It felt as if there had always been this hidden lingering temptation that was just itching to be unleashed, it just needed the right push, from the right somebody.

When the very chief, cliché bad boy Billy Hargrove himself approached you himself in the halls on a regular soul-crushing Monday, you wanted to prove not only to him but also to yourself that you were not this cookie cutter mold of a person. You were just as capable of crazy as anybody else is. So fuck him for underestimating you, and double fuck him if he was gonna laugh in your face when you said so.

“Of course I know what it’s like to have fun,” you defend, pointing your finger at him for emphasis at the arrogant blonde that had been ridiculing you far too long during passing periods at school everyday. He went further than usual today in particular, calling you ‘Plain Jane’ and ‘sugarpuss’ just to get a rise out of you, unknowingly setting off the ticking time bomb. “In fact, I’m the one who fucking invented fun, asshole.”

Billy widens his eyes comically as he takes the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear and puts it between his lips.

“So, little kitten does have some scratch in her, doesn’t she? Who would’ve known,” he asks rhetorically, sarcasm lacing his tone as his fingers work to drag a little red match across the matchbox. Just as he was about to burn up with the audacity to smoke inside, at school for Christ’s sake, Mr. Jameson from wood workshop snags it from Billy’s mouth as he passes by you both in the hallway.

“No smoking inside, Hargrove!”

Billy turns his head with attitude to the teacher that just walked away with one of his precious cigarettes. How could he be that surprised of the consequences, you had no idea how thick his skull really was.

“I still have another one in my pocket you know!” he calls out, taking out the mentioned extra pack he kept in his jacket pocket as he shouted obnoxiously across the hall, catching the attention of everyone else scrambling to get to class.

“Lung cancer can wait another day!” Mr. Jameson reprimands the teen, pausing at the door of his destined classroom. “Get to class, Hargrove. And leave the poor girl alone,” Jameson pities you, probably wondering just what the fuck a girl like you, the polar opposite of Billy, was doing chatting and wasting time with him in the hallway.

“Yeah? I’m shaking in my boots over here, Mister J. And she could leave if she wants to, she’s a big girl,” he says, eyeing you as the words leave his mouth. You’d been impatiently standing there, somewhat annoyed yet entertained by the exchange with a tight lipped smile, still holding your usual boat load of books. Billy can see that you’re pissed because you think he’s misjudged you, but for fuck’s sake, it’s like you don’t even know that there are lockers at school for a reason. You’re practically begging to get made fun of, and Billy’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the bait, see where it leads him. Maybe you’ll surprise him, or maybe he’ll surprise you.

“You done flirting with school staff?” you raise your brows, pointing your thumb back towards Jameson’s classroom. Billy chuckles at your wit, eyes glazing down your fitted schoolgirl-esque sweater, daring to guess what’s hidden underneath it. As well as what’s really under your carefully crafted bitchy persona. It’s so easy to get you kicking and screaming, he plans on using that to persuade you further to him.

“Are you? Don’t think I can’t see the way you looked at ‘em, batting those cute little eyelashes, maybe even bending over in class to—“

You stop him from going further into his detailed imagery with a gag noise spewing from your lips and a hand raised to get him to please shut up already. “Okay, gross. I used to be best friends with his daughter in middle school.”

Billy chuckles at that, then continues on with his weird ass fantasy. “Makes you a dirty bird then, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck off. You’re disgusting,” you step closer into his personal space bubble, shoving one of your books into his chest resulting in him pretending it hurt like a drama queen. After another roll of your eyes, he’s satisfied with how much he’s annoyed you then wants to remind you of what he’d asked.

“You never did answer me, you know.”

“About what, genius?” you fix your hair, fidgeting under the pressure of his earlier proposition. You’d hoped he had forgotten he even asked and move on to pull the pigtails of the next girl that strolled by. Clearly he hadn’t, to your dismay.

“‘Bout you playing a little hooky, comin’ with me. Get to see how the other half lives,” he offers, pulling yet another item out of his pocket, and of course it’s a toothpick. He always needed something in his mouth when he’s talking to you.

“Where would we even go?”

He plays with the toothpick in his teeth, flicking his tongue over the stick before answering. “Anywhere. Wherever you want. But if you can’t think of somethin’ to do, I have my usual hiding spots. No one would find us.”

This is the part where the cartoon devil and angel on your shoulder fight, the good side of you worried about what trouble he’d be dragging you into. The bad side tells you that it’s about damn time you do something out of the ordinary, something you’re not supposed to. This time, for the very first time in your life, the devil won.

“Fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not going ‘cause I wanna be your little girlfriend or whatever, this is just because I’m bored, and... and I do know how to have fun,” you declare, staring at your clean Converse as your palms start to sweat from nerves. Just what the fuck are you getting yourself into? It’s your grave that you’re digging here. But why would anybody pass this opportunity up? The only lame excuse you could come up with for the imaginary angel shaking it’s head in disapproval for being defeated was that he was as hot as he was charming, and you felt like you’d been held at gunpoint to resist. You were weak, and you can admit it now. So fuck you if you can’t break bad for once.

Billy licks his lips in triumph, grinning like he finally caught the mouse that had been eyeing the peanut butter in the trap far too long, and had just now decided to take a lick and get sucked in.

“Well alright, little lady. Glad to hear it. Your chariot awaits outside,” he jingles his keys with his fingers, not waiting any longer as he eagerly struts out of the building, with you meekly trailing not far behind him.

—

Billy knew he’d get you to crack. Delighted that he’d get to pop your skipping class cherry, he unlocked his Camaro and even took the time to open the passenger’s door for you. After looking at him in disbelief for a beat, he raises his brows and beckons you further to get in. Something akin to a strange man telling you to get in the car, with a promised bribe of candy and puppies.

“What was it you said back there, that you invented fun? C’mon, think of it as an adventure, like in all those books you read or whatever.”

Yeah, in all those books you read with circumstances like these, something stupid always happens. You’re still on the edge of willing to take that chance, with the voice of every adult that’s every lectured you to not go out with strange boys. Fuck it, maybe something good will come out of this.

You sigh in defeat, done fighting with yourself before giving the ground a shy smile, letting out a quiet “Yeah, I guess.” Getting strapped in with your seatbelt, because safety first, you tightly clutch the several books that had stayed in your grasp like a vice. You’re still quite apprehensive, but there should be no problem in maybe needing a little more convincing. Billy feels like he won the lottery, hopping in and enthusiastically starting the engine up before zooming out of the school parking lot. He even tells you you can pick any music tape in his entire collection to play, which he almost never lets anybody do. However, you’d declined the playing of any music, stubbornly staring out the window at the views passing by. Billy is still determined to get you out of your comfort zone, and if music won’t do it, there must be some radical adventure you’d be excited for that will.

“How ‘bout a movie? You gotta like some genre. Everybody likes movies,” he tells you, still driving aimlessly with no destination in mind for the two of you yet.

“What kind’s your favorite?” Billy wonders aloud, seeing as though you could be a secret cult-loving, horror flick addict, or maybe even a hopeless romantic. He likes the idea of you snuggled up in the theatre munching on popcorn as you watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers, or maybe even Sixteen Candles. That would be a fucking sight to see.

“Uh, all of them. I like all movies.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout the new Ghostbusters? Heard it’s the next classic—“

“I don’t know anymore, Billy. Maybe... maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you overthink, chewing on your lip from the anxiety that had been eating you away. This is against the rules, and according to your routine, you should be in class right now. The whole idea of this ridiculous outing was just some heat of the moment, fortuitous decision that you’re beginning to regret right now.

Meanwhile, Billy makes a frustrated scoffing sound at you for already wanting to give the fun up. He could’ve easily been mistaken by the connection you two shared through your playful banter, now just passing it off as weak flirting which you clearly didn’t reciprocate.

“Fine. Let’s just go back to school then. Why not, right? Listen to the boring old fuck of a bogus dude like Jameson. He’ll probably scream at us ‘cause we’ll be fifteen minutes late, then the cherry on top being a pink slip to show your folks at home.” Billy had been looking over at you as he ranted, then back to the road to find a place to pull over. He’s already tired trying to make you comfortable when your mind was set on staying uncomfortable. “Your folks’ll really love that. Wait ‘til they find out that I was the one that convinced you to come—“

“Shut the hell up, alright!” you finally snap, throwing your arms in the air and in turn making the tower of textbooks fall with a loud thunk to the floor. Billy is shocked at your outburst, now intently engaged in what you have to say. “You act like you know me, but you don’t, alright? Nobody does. Not my parents, not Jameson, and certainly not you either, pal.”

Billy calls bullshit on that one, letting out a menacing chuckle before judging you harder.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know you, yeah right. I think I really fuckin’ do, actually. You’re just some priss, yet another snobby little girl with a broken little heart, not to mention the ginormous stick up her ass—“

“I do not have a stick up my ass.”

“Do too.”

“Nuh-uh, assface!”

Billy sighs dramatically at the childish banter you’re still keeping up, now finding a lonely space where he can stop the car and really get under your skin, prove you wrong. Because he thinks he really does know your type. He kills the engine as he turns to you.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna prove me wrong? Why don’t you open the glovebox and take out what’s inside. Go on.” he instructed, looking to you and then the glove compartment expectedly. You try masking your hesitance with false confidence before going for it, pulling the lever open and finding what looks like a decent hand-held size bottle. Curious, you look closer and read the sticker on the front, observing the bronze liquid that’s filled a good halfway up. “If you know how to have fun, why don’tcha try taking a swig?” he nods to the bottle, biting his lip in excitement the show you’ll likely put on. He briefly worries for a moment that you’ll actually do it, but that thought is quickly stored away after seeing your reaction upon unscrewing the cap and sticking your tongue out in disgust at the heavy stench. Billy’s sure that there’s no way you had the balls, thinking this test will more likely prove his point that you’re all bark no bite. You regain your composure before speaking.

“Oh, I could so drink this. You’re making this way too easy, man.” Billy chuckles at your crass attempt at trying to sound cool to impress him. “What’s so funny, huh? Think I won’t?” you raise your voice defensively, gesturing to the swirl of what’s left in the bottle. Billy can’t hold in his revolting laughter anymore as he holds his stomach and slaps the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be kidding me,” he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, that was some comedy gold right there. Thanks, Y/N. I didn’t know how bad I really needed that.”

After sitting and listening to his whole schtick about how hilarious the idea of you misbehaving is, you’ve been riled up to the point of clenching your fists at your sides. Steam might as well be shooting out from your ears. Of course he’s exactly like the rest of them, the bullying, ridiculing, and constant underestimating.

“Oh yeah? Well if you don’t believe me, then...” you lick your lips, taunting him with a filthy, no-good glare as he grows weary under the tension, “Watch me.”

You’d taken the bottle and swallowed your pride, giving the finger to everyone who expected you to stay impossibly innocent forever, then gulped at least a mouthful from the bottle. It felt freakishly foreign and warm as it went down, settling deep down your belly and the aftertaste stinging your tastebuds. The bottle’s contents had diminished significantly from the dent you put in, and Billy can’t believe anything he’s seeing with his own two eyes. It’s the first time he’d been stunned to silence, with the late reaction of snatching the bottle away from you before you could poison yourself, or do more damage than what has already been done.

“You’ve — you gotta be fucking kidding me! That didn’t just happen. That did not just happen,” he stumbles, furrowing his brows and throwing an arm in the air in utter disbelief, while his other holds the bottle like a baby, keeping it hidden away from you. “Holy shit, Y/N! I said a swig, not whatever you just did!” he scolds, eyes as wide and frightened like a goddamn cartoon.

Meanwhile, you’d been coughing up a storm having chocked from some of the liquor going down the wrong pipe then cringing at the leftover taste bleaching your mouth. Your head feels whoozy, not that the liquor’s kicked in quite yet.

“That tastes like gasoline,” you point to where Billy has white-knuckled the bottle in his hands, making damn sure you don’t pull that move again. It was his fault, though, and the guilt is stalling right beside his mind for the chaos that has yet to come. He was the one pushing your buttons, pressuring you just as much as everybody else, ultimately making you so tired of it to the point of drowning yourself with the rest of his backup bottle of Smirnoff he kept for safekeeping.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. That’s why you gotta sip it!” he runs his fingers through his curls stressfully, having burdened himself with carrying the responsibility of taking care for this poor almost-drunk girl in his car. Of course you’d try overcompensating by downing an outrageous amount and being smug about it. He guessed you’d never drank anything before, or at least that’s the only logical explanation as to why you were surprised at how vile the taste had been. Drinkers often know how shitty the taste is, and use a chaser to get rid of the vomit-inducing touch it leaves.

“You people drink that garbage for fun?” you snort, not understanding the slightest bit of why someone would do that to themselves willingly.

Billy rubs his eyes frustratingly, then safeguards the vodka from your reach as he starts up the engine again and pulls out from where you two were parked.

“Yeah, well, it hasn’t hit you yet. You’ll know why when it does.”

—

Half an hour later, Billy had gotten over the stress of being the one responsible for your drunkenness, now just sitting and listening to the weird shit you’re rambling on about. Of course you’d be a lightweight given your inexperience in the matter, but with how much and in such short time, you were an adorable mess. He thinks it’s sorta cute the way she slurs and jumps from one topic change to the next, such as her opinions on how uninteresting Star Wars is right to how sexy she thinks Corey Haim is. The vastly different ideas mingling together all in one conversation nearly gives the boy whiplash, but he can’t help loving it.

“Oooh, oh! Stop the car. I said stop the car! There’s a lake here, we gotta get out,” you rush, poking the window and even shoving your face up excitedly and fogging it up with your breath.

“Why do we have to—“

“No questions!”

Billy holds his hands up in surrender, not believing that he’s really taking orders from a blasted schoolgirl on her first time ever skipping class. School ended awhile ago, but you’ve yet to mention wanting to go home. Although the teen would like to know you’re getting there safely and not getting into any shit with your parents (if they’re anything like his), he’s still up for granting you your first good time.

Pulling in to the deserted area, Billy puts his Camaro in park and getting out, watching as you fumble to unlock your door and nearly fall out in a fit of giggles. He shakes his head at you with an involuntary grin, then scratches the back of his neck as he wonders just what you’re planning to do here. He then catches you when you’re about to fall for the second time getting out, your palms grabbing at his chest and nearly falling to your knees. A smile has still plastered his expression, unable to keep his poker face at the joy you are when you’re drunk.

“This is your first time drinkin’, isn’t it?” he asks, holding you and keeping you upward because you couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life right about now.

“Whaddya think Popeye? Oh wait, I remember what you think, ‘cuz you told me so! Didn’t it go something like... you’d strongly argue that there’s a giant stick up my ass?” you put your finger to your temple and hum, pretending to think. “Well no one as boring as that would do this,” you exclaim, moving your arms down and doing a drunken cartwheel on the dirty ground. Billy quickly acts, going to pull you back up to stop you from laying down any longer on the gross pavement. When he does, you yank his arms towards where you lay, resulting in him foolishly landing on top of you. You’d yelled ”TIMBER!” while he’d let out a squawk sound at your surprising strength.

“Y’know, I think I offically figured out why people drink gasoline so much,” you point out, getting ready to give him your analysis on your liquor consumption.

“It’s Smirnoff actually, but go on,” Billy smiles and waits for you to keep going on yet another drunk tangent.

“It’s b’cause like, I feel the ground moving real fast. I can feel the way that earth is rotating on it’s axis, like what Jameson talked about in class,” you’ve put your palms to the ground as you spewed, putting your ear down as if to listen to it moving. You suddenly picked yourself up, swingy as you quickly lost balance and using Billy’s hand as a way to stay off the floor.

“I already know you think I’m this bogus loser with bogus friends and does nothin’ but bogus homework all the time, but, I think you’re opposite. You’re cool. Too cool for school. You’re this daring dreamboat, this cliché heartthrob that picks on girls and hands them a bottle and says, ’drink up!’” you conclude the statement, slapping his thigh with another roar of laughter tumbling out from your mouth. Everything is so indescribably funny, and you barely ever laugh at anything anymore, so you’re having the time of your life not holding anything in like you usually have to. Billy, in contrast to you, now feels shame creep back up and wants to give you the apology you deserve. Even if there’s a chance you’ll forget all about it because of your drunkenness.

“I um, I’m sorry you know. For pressuring you to take it that far, I was just upset because you wouldn’t hang out with me,” he murmurs, coming back up from the ground and looking everywhere else besides your eyes. You shrug, not finding any deep meaning in anything anymore, crossing your arms.

“Forgiven. Only if you do a little something with me,” you smirk, coming up to him and tugging at his jacket, making Billy draw away from you. He will not do anything with a girl that’s drunk, and that’s a vow.

“C’moooon, who’s the boring old fuck now? Hint hint, it isn’t Jameson! His name starts with capital B and ends in Y!” you snort, barely balancing on one foot as you struggle unlacing your Converse and throwing them off your feet. Next comes you sweater, and now Billy feels like he can’t breathe properly seeing you in your bra and your jeans marching towards the near freezing lake.

“What— uh, Y/N stop, this isn’t right at all, what’re you fucking doing!” he shouts, jogging over to you in a midst panic. You’re grinning like a baby that stole all the candy, not refraining from snaking the rest of your clothes off. Sober you would be absolutely appalled, while drunk you is having a fucking blast. Billy rushes to you and rips off his jacket, covering your nakedness and snapping his head in every direction as to make damn sure no one is witnessing this right now.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Take more off and join me,” you make a come hither gesture with your finger while heading towards the water, before dunking right in. The alcohol has warmed you up, making you completely impervious to the cold wetness. Billy thanks God that he sees your head peak back up from the water, almost shitting himself at the thought of losing you from drowning or the million other things that could go wrong here.

“Hurry it up, Hargrove! Chop chop, water’s feelin’ fucking great out here!” you shout, both your hands making an O-shape around your lips so he could hear you better. Billy shakes his head, deciding that he only lives once, and this is going to be the most wild thing he’s ever done with a girl. Even though he’d been around the block and done some pretty questionable things.

The teen hurried to yank off his jeans and shirt, and stops for a moment to ponder if it’s really smart to keep his boxers on. He hated being a hormonal boy right then, given that his dick had started waking up at the sight of you waltzing around naked and teasing him. He decides that if you, the school’s perfect good girl could hop in the water in your birthday suit, he had to follow your footsteps and do it too.

“We could get arrested for this,” he calls out, shoving his boxers off and folding both yours and his clothes together in one neat pile before joining you in the freezing cold water. He’d swam much more gracefully than you had, watching you doggy paddle over to him and laugh as you jump scare him with a splash of water into his face.

“Jesus, what was that for?” he wipes the water out of his eyes, his dirty blonde mullet now drenched.

“For taking too damn long,” you smile while spitting out some water that had seeped into your mouth. Billy swims closer into your personal space and holds onto your back, extra careful about where his hands lay because of your being utterly exposed to him.

“Okay, I guess this is when I gotta admit that I stand corrected,” he confesses reluctantly, keeping his eyes on yours and refusing to look down any further. You may be drunk and naked and fucking wet right in front of him, but he remains respectful. “You���re way more ballsy than I am.”

“That’s right, bitch, and don’t you forget it!” you show off, before swimming away with your back floating on the water.

“Where you goin’ now, crazy?” he asks, trailing behind you. You’ve gotten out now, not giving a shit about drying off and shoving your pants back up, along with stealing his jacket and putting it on over where you just wear your bra. Billy can’t unsee you naked, and he certainly never will forget seeing you in his jacket with almost nothing underneath with his own two eyes. His dick has definetely not reacted kindly to the practically below zero temperature water, but it sure as shit tries going back up because of you.

—

Both teenagers barely dried off still, have taken to cranking up the heat to the point of it being similar to a sauna in his car as you both giggle about what just happened.

“I can’t believe you,” he thinks aloud, still so baffled by your drunken nature and what stupid shit you’re really capable of.

“Hey, Billy?”

“Yes, oh-so-crazy one?”

“Remember when I told you, I told’ya I liked all kinds a movies,” you remind him of earlier, and he listens and nods intently, wondering what’s gonna come flying out of your mouth now. “I really do. I cried while watching The Breakfast Club, even When Harry Met Sally. Or Jaws too. Like, all’s movies do is make me cry. Because the characters go and have fun with their friends, or meet someone and fall in love, and I never’ve gotten to do that before. But you’re so fun, and I feel like I got to live in one of the movies today,” you mumble, now having been worn out by the day you’ve had and propping up your arm to the window and resting your head on it.

Billy’s heart and face have flushed to the point of soaring at your confession. He takes on one of his hands off the wheel, keeping one steady on making sure he won’t crash you two, and pets your wet hair and combing his fingers lovingly through.

“Alright, beautiful. Well, I’m glad you had fun, but uh, the truth is that this was all you. You’re hardcore, seriously. It’s pretty bitchin’. But I kinda felt like I lived in a movie today with you too,” he murmurs the last part, still tucking your damp strands behind your ear carefully then gets greeted by the sound of your soft snoring from the passenger’s seat. He chuckles at that, then focuses back on the road. The boy knows this night will always be lodged into his memory, and he’ll never underestimate you again.

—

this was so fun writing! I’ll be starting up on another prompt request soon, don’t worry fellas and ladies and gents

[malereader-inserts]

Rumour Has It

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader Summary: The Avengers don’t like you, rumour has it. Word Count: 1,729 Request: “If your taking request can you do a peter parker x male reader where peter introduced male reader to the Avengers.”

The Avengers don’t like you, that’s what they agreed within their little circle.

No, they haven’t met you, yet, but, they just don’t like you.

Dating their youngest member of the team, it’s kind of a big deal. Peter, barely an adult yet, had been especially happy lately. It wasn’t too noticeable at first, the boy is a walking ray of sunshine, but then they started to notice that Peter was skipping out on Friday movie nights every other night.

Peter usually kept a disorganised schedule, often times running out the lab to meet his Aunt, but now, he checks the clock every five minutes and leaves five minutes than intended. He never comes to the tower with an empty stomach like he used to, then they found out that he had been dating someone. 

It was the laughter when he was staring at his phone, every small noise that comes from his phone to check if there was a message from you. 

“So, who’s the girl?” Sam asked, one day, it was in the middle of preparing for the movie night as Peter tap on his phone.

“Hmh?” Peter hummed, looking up to see some of the Avengers looking at him, “It’s not a girl.”

“So, it’s not that girl - what’s her name?” Tony started to click his fingers as Peter looked at his mentor with an amused look.

“MJ?” Peter offered, “No, it’s not her nor is Ned.”

“Then who’s got you all flushed up, Parker?” Natasha calls out, leaning against Clint, who was sipping on his beer with a fond teasing smile at Peter.

“Just my boy, my man, (Y/n),” Peter commented before his attention was quick to return to the blue screen.

It didn’t clock into their minds that Peter was completely referring to you as his boyfriend, but at the time they just thought that Peter made a new friend recently, someone he was very fond of. It was until Peter left, in the refusal of Happy’s drive, in another person’s car that the team had realised that either Peter just got kidnapped or Peter had a boyfriend.

They were indifferent about you, barely heard anything from Peter. But, they were glad that things had started to return to their normal routine. But, they heard that Peter Parker was dating some kid called (Y/n) (L/n) that was the youngest son of Stark Enterprise rival company. Successful in making the latest technology.

And there were some hefty rumours about you.

“(Y/n) the next new loverboy on the scene?” Headlines would stream, social media flowed with the headline.

Peter scoffs when he reads the headline, ignoring the media and enjoying being in the arms of you. Meanwhile, the Avengers hated it. They thought this was a red flag for you, Peter should immediately consider his choices and leave. You were a flirt, a young adult with charm and money.

Tony Stark could see his younger self in you. Young, rich and charming, that made everyone swoon. Tony Stark is a player, everyone knows that, so why couldn’t you. You’ve been in public having a couple of dates, some significant others, the media had been tracking your dating life. More so compared to your siblings.

Then again, you were a pretty face. You could easily take up modelling if your family business was too tiring for you. Then that caused another rumour to spark, it was from Ned one time. He had come along with Peter to the tower, he begged Peter to come to see a movie on Saturday night but Peter politely declined.

“I’m going to a party,” Peter answers as Ned raises an eyebrow, “With him.” 

“What? (Y/n)?” Ned was baffled, “You hate parties and I heard the parties he goes to are wild, they do the crazy stuff.”

Steve was the one to overhear the conversation and replayed the message to the team. The party that Peter seemed to be attending with you could be filled with drugs, people doing vape and heavy drinking.

“I don’t like who Peter is hanging around,” Bruce mentions, cleaning his glasses, “Who is (Y/n) anyway?”

“Youngest member of (L/n) Corp.” Pepper started, “Highly intelligent, only eighteen years old. But, he comes off much like his older brothers.”

“Egotistic, party animals and a manwhore,” Tony completed, “He’s going to break Pete’s innocence.”

“As if there is much left of that,” Clint commented dryly, “Listen, why don’t we give the kid a chance? You’ve said it before Stark, media is pretty heavy with opinions and lies.”

Tony sighs, nodding, “I guess so.”

Avengers were invited to your family party, Steve was dreading the thought of it. He wasn’t ready to be faced with loud music, drunk and high people. But, Peter only laughs, shaking his head.

“It’s just a normal party? What are you talking about?” Peter asked, a soft happy smile on his face, “Like Tony host.”

“But, that’s the party you’ve been going to with your boyfriend!” Bucky exclaimed, but the confused look Peter shows meant otherwise.

“No, I haven’t, I hate those types of parties. I’ve only been to one and that was the time of homecoming.” 

The Avengers still attended with their chosen plus one. Aunt May was excited to see you, already meeting her after a few weeks of dating Peter. She was really charmed by you and taken a great like to you. The team all dressed up for the party as Peter was practically jumping up and down, scanning the crowd of people to find you.

“Peter Parker!” You greeted, a smile on your face and your eyes lit up ever so perfectly, Peter swooned.

Your hand lands and rest carefully on the lower parts of Peter’s back. You softly kissed his temple, with you being taller - though that wasn’t too hard with Peter. Peter beamed at the rest of his team and his Aunt.

“Welcome to our humble abode, Avengers,” You spoke with confidence, the team cringes inside. 

Peter look at you with such fondness as you spare him a glance, amused but in love. May was quick to engulf you into a hug, in which you happily accept. You point her to your aunt, she was quick to make friends with your family member when she and Peter came over for family reunion dinner one night.

“Guys, this is my boyfriend, (Y/n). (Y/n) this is my team,” Peter introduced, you nodded as a greeting but the friendly smile never leaving your face.

“Peter talks an awfully lot of you,” You commented, “Especially you Mr Stark, he fawns over you.”

“Shut up!” Peter whines, nudging you as you chuckled, even bursting into fits of laughter when Peter turns red.

“Oh, well I hope they’re all good things,” Steve said.

“Definitely, he’s a big fan of you, he did grow up with superheroes,” You complimented as you clapped your hands, “Please, food will be served soon, the bar is open - no worry you won’t need to pay anything, there is a restriction on you, Peter, however.”

“What!” Peter exclaimed as you raise an eyebrow at him and shook your head.

“We let you drink a bit, you’re an emotional drunk Pete. You’re lucky that I’m here to bring you home, but I’m sure May have some funny videos of that night.” 

“What?”

“Oh, yeah, you really wanted to find an Iron Man costume and parade in the night with it. Then, you showed me your hulk pyjamas, which are adorable.”

“Excuse me, Hulk PJ’s?” Bruce asked, baffled but somewhat touched by the simple gesture.

“Oh, yes, Dr Banner. I have pictures, would you like them?” You immediately fish out your phone, “Now that I recall, Peter has a lot of embarrassing pictures on here.”

You stride towards to the team, they didn’t miss how your lock screen is Peter and you in the carnival, hues of blues, red and orange were mixed as flares. It was aesthetically pleasing to view. You tap on your photos and scroll to a folder name “Spiderboi ❤” Typical teenage behaviour. 

There were pictures of Peter in a bubble bath, bubbles to his chin and his hair stuck up in a mohawk but holding up Captain America action figure in one hand and a Thor action figure in the other. The team looked at each there, wanting to burst out in laughter. 

Whilst there were many embarrassing pictures of him, there were many pictures that you adored with all your heart. Pictures such as Ferris wheel pictures together at the top, or a picture of Peter him riding a horse like prince charming on the carousel. Pictures sure as him simply looking at items on the Santa Monica Pier, when you took him to LA for a week.

“You’re really cute together,” Sam said, not realising what had been said.

“Thanks! Peter is my first real relationship, I intend to make sure he’s stuck with me.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Trust me (Y/n), it’ll be you wanting to leave not me. I love you too much to let you go.”

“You sap,” You shoved lightly with your shoulder, “Come on, mom is dying to make plans with us and May.”

The two of you walk away, with Peter grasping your hand and jokingly swinging it back and forth obnoxiously. Tony cleared his throat and straighten his jacket, grabbing a drink that was on a tray that was being carried around and offered.

“Seems nice,” Clint concluded, “I like him.”

The team murmured in agreement. Natasha takes a deep breath, ready to mingle for the night, ready to walk off with Pepper by her side

“Do you think he knows that we didn’t like him at first, do you think Peter knew?” Sam asked.

“Oh, he knew,” Peter spoke, making the team jump at his arrival, he grins at them as he grabs a drink from a waiter’s tray, “Rumour has it, so does (Y/n).”

With that Peter finally walks away, the team shifting uncomfortably in their spot. Peter wanted to tell the team to loosen up and integrate themselves with the guest as well but managed to catch the conversation and left feeling both entertained and unamused.

“We’ve messed up our first impression, haven’t we?” Steve winced, as you sharply turn your head away.

“Yup,” Bruce answered.

“Then, we better get into fixing that.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Girl Next Door (Part 6) - Brothers

Summary: Dean and the reader have their first proper date out and the reader makes a visit to see her brother...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 6,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, discussed past suicide attempt

A/N: Enjoy!

Reader’s POV

“Dean?” you asked when Dean had been driving for nearly half an hour that Sunday night for your date out. He hadn’t given you any hints before he’d left your house that morning, simply told you to wear something comfortable on your feet. “Where are we going?”

“Music festival,” he said with a smile. “They got food, beer, music. You’ll love it. I swear.”

“Thanks,” you said once you got a wristband at the gate and were wandering around with Dean about fifteen minutes later. He was munching on something called a donut burger but you weren’t daring enough to try that one out. You got some fried dough to snack on as you walked around, waiting for the music to start. Something touched your hand and it took a moment to realize it was Dean’s. He kept brushing it up against yours, not looking at you but you let yours bump back twice before he grabbed it and laced your fingers together.

You walked until you found a spot to watch the first act come out, done with your food by then and Dean returning to wrap his arms around you. You smiled, nuzzling back into his chest.

“Warmer?” he asked.

“I don’t remember the last time I got a hug was is all,” you said. You felt him squeeze you again, relaxing his arms as he lazily kept them around you. He moved a little to the music, even if the band playing was only the opener to the opener. After a while though he snuck off and returned with a box of cheesy fries, smiling as you shared them between the switch of bands.

“You know…” he said, popping a fry in his mouth. “This whole not getting hugs thing, totally not cool with me. You should get one at least once a day.”

“Are you volunteering your services?” you teased.

“Naturally,” he said, eating another fry. You rubbed your bare arm as the sun was starting to go down, Dean shrugging out of his flannel. He held it out and it took a moment for you to realize he was giving it to you. It was far too large but it smelled nice and was soft and warm around you. “Not get along with your family?”

“Jack, not so much,” you said, nibbling on a fry. “Our parents aren’t around anymore.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said.

“Jack’s...not the most stable of people lately. We agreed that when he was better, I’d give him his half of what they left behind for us but…”

“But Jack didn’t seem so great this morning,” said Dean.

“He hasn’t been great a long time,” you said. “He’s better than he was though which is saying something.”

“Well I hope he gets the help he needs,” said Dean.

“Me too,” you said. Dean reached over and moved a piece of hair the wind had caught and tucked it behind your ear. He let his finger linger over your cheek, pulling it away to get more food. “Thanks for getting me out of the house.”

“Thanks for getting me out of the house,” he said.

“Sam doing okay?” you asked.

“Mhm. Told me about your jedi mind trick you did on him after I ran out with Avy. Thank you,” he said.

“I was just trying to help,” you said with a shrug.

“You know this music festival is here next weekend too if you’d like to come back,” he said. “Different bands and all that.”

“You think you’re getting a second date, Winchester?” you said. He shrugged, a shit eating grin on his face. “I’d love to.”

“Perfect,” he said.

You went back over to the stage when the next act came on, Dean’s arms around you again. The music was better this time around and you moved to the beat slowly, Dean following your lead as you stood in place. By the time the main act was up, you were glad Dean had given you his shirt, still toasty warm. You’d have to remember to bring something the next weekend. You nuzzled your cheek against his arm, forgetting where you were for a moment. Dean didn’t say anything though and simply kissed the top of your head.

“Want to head home?” he asked as the last song was ending. You nodded, taking your time to walk back to his car, holding hands once again.

The drive home felt much shorter and soon Dean was walking you to your door, giving your cheek a kiss.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you said, giving one back. His lips twitched up, an ever so subtle tinge of pink on his face. “Dean?”

“Hm?” he hummed, halfway towards turning away. You’d taken off his flannel and were holding it out to him, Dean looking to it and back to you. “S’better on you anyways.”

“I mean obviously but…” you teased.

“Cute,” he said, flashing you a smirk. “See you around, sweetheart.”

“Later, Dean.”

“Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t,” you said, the box slipping from your hand the next morning. It was raining and you’d tried to rush as you tucked them away in your car but you were about five seconds away from losing the entire batch. You went down to your knee in the driveway, feeling it scrape open but you were able to rest it against the ground and get a better grip on the boxes. You winced as you stood up and got the boxes safely away in the back. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Hidy ho, neighbor,” teased Dean, he and Sam popping around the other side of the car, a pair of raincoats on them.

“Hey guys,” you said, slamming the trunk shut. “Taking a walk in the rain?”

“Sammy’s this close to going all Misery on me if I don’t take him out for fresh air every once in while,” said Dean, Sam narrowing his eyes at him.

“The doctors said light physical activity is good for me. Plus I’m not so dizzy anymore,” he said.

“Wait. You’re not dizzy when you’re regularly taking your medicine and resting? Who’d a thought?” teased Dean again.

“Oh come on, Sam. You really weren’t taking your stuff when you were supposed to?” you said. “No wonder you felt like shit.”

“No one ever said the Winchesters weren’t a stubborn bunch. God, Jess used to tell me that all the time,” he said.

“Shocking,” you said, both sets of eyes going down to your knee. “I gotta run and do these deliveries. Summer kid took the day off again.”

“Let’s get that taken care of first?” said Dean, nodding to your cut. You rolled your eyes but waved them onto the porch out of the weather, both of them humming at the smell coming through the open front door. “That smells amazing.”

“Always smells extra good in here on rainy days,” you said, heading back to the kitchen. You stuck a band aid on your knee, both of them cocking their heads from the front door. You groaned and ripped it off, getting a bottle of alcohol and cleaned off the cut in view of them, slapping a bigger bandage on. “You two happy now?”

“For the most part,” said Dean. You popped back outside and locked up the front door, throwing up your hood under the porch. You were slower on your knee, Dean turning to Sam. “Hey, Y/N. Want some company this morning? Free manual labor in it for ya. This one could do for a field trip.”

“Dean. We annoy Y/N enough as it is,” said Sam.

“Well my track record this morning isn’t so great. As long as Sam doesn’t do any lifting, you guys can tag along. Kind of boring is all,” you said.

“I mean, I will take literally any kind of adult interaction I can get,” said Sam.

“Alright then. Hop in.”

“Ah, Sinful Sweets. Best part of my day,” said Teddy, giving you a smile when Dean set down a box of mixed pastries on the counter.

“I always thought the cafe here made their own desserts,” said Dean.

“Eh, we used to. We’re more restaurant now than back then. We still get the avid morning crowd that wants a danish to bring to work though,” he said. Dean hummed and you headed out, getting a tsk from him once you were outside and heading for the car.

“You really sell your stuff in there and let them claim it as their own?” said Dean.

“They’re a consistent customer,” you said with a shrug.

“Doesn’t seem right, with how hard you work and all,” he said.

“I don’t need a big bakery with all the overhead. The way things work now is fine,” you said.

“Alright. Where’s our next stop?” he asked.

“I got a platter of cookies to deliver to the barber shop and then I was probably going to grab lunch at the diner,” you said. “You can join if you’d like. I got...stuff I’d rather do on my own after that though.”

“Maybe Sammy and I’ll go have lunch with the boys at the garage,” said Dean as he smiled at you. “I got a feeling we may be starting to actually annoy you.”

“No. I’m just...busy this afternoon,” you said. “I’ll take the company any other time though, seriously.”

“Well, uh, let’s do this last delivery so we can grab some grub, hm?”

You took a deep breath as you walked into the waiting room two hours later, signing in and barely sitting down before a nurse grabbed you. You followed her back down the hall, entering the room and taking a seat on the couch by Jack. He picked at a thread on the pillow, doing his best to pretend you weren’t there.

“Hey,” you said.

“Did you really have to call them on me? Do you know how much trouble you got me in?” he said, shoving the pillow aside as he glared at you.

“If you had rang my doorbell and politely asked about your share of the inheritance, I wouldn’t have needed to,” you shot back.

“They questioned me if I’m a danger to myself or others,” he said.

“Are you?” you asked.

“No!” he shouted, just in time for a doctor to walk in the room. “Great. Dr. Evil is here.”

“Everything alright in here?” asked Dr. Hank, taking a seat across from you both.

“Peachy,” grumbled Jack.

“Jack. We’re here today to talk about what happened yesterday morning. You showed up at your sister’s home unannounced,” he said.

“Lots of people drop by families houses unannounced all the time,” said Jack.

“You aren’t allowed to do that and you know that,” he said.

“Why not?” you asked. You caught the flash of surprise on Jack’s face as the doctor turned his attention on you. “He does kind of have a point. People do that.”

“Yes but we are trying to put structure back in Jack’s life here-”

“Control,” mumbled Jack.

“...Structure in Jack’s life,” said the doctor with what looked like a glare in Jack’s direction. “Your brother has certain rules, as do all our patients, when it comes to day passes.”

“Listen. I get it. I think Jack gets that we aren’t at that point in our relationship to be free to walk in and out of each other’s spaces,” you said, Jack staring at the floor. “But the reason I came here is to understand why you wanted your share of the money right then and there.”

Jack shrugged, the doctor sighing.

“Your sister asked a question, Jack.”

“I’m the older brother,” mumbled Jack.

“Do you need help with something?” you asked. Jack laughed, staring at you.

“Help? I want to go home. I’m tired of doing what other people tell me all day long. You say one little sarcastic thing here you get locked in your room for the day with nothing to do or you get privileges revoked or they make you feel like an idiot. Structure? I’m not even allowed to choose when to go sleep, when to wake up, when I can eat, what I can eat. I have no control over anything in my life and the second I try and get some here, I get in trouble and- ”

“That’s enough Jack,” said Dr. Hank. You looked at Jack, saw the way he was staring at you. You’d seen it before.

The way Sam looked up at Dean in the backyard after the fire. The way Sam looked up at you in Avy’s room on Saturday night. The way Jack had looked at you the night you came to the decision to send him to that facility.

He was asking for your help. Only this time he wanted help with something else.

To leave.

“I will not give you your inheritance,” you said, Jack blank faced. “But I will take you out of here and you can stay with me if you listen to my rules and I mean all of them.”

“I don’t think-”

“Quiet,” you shot at the doctor. “I sent my brother here to get help. It’s been a year. You’re clearly not helping so I’m taking him.”

“He may be a threat to-”

“Jack. Do you want to live? Yes or no?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“You gonna hurt me if I yell at you for breaking a rule?” you asked. He shook his head.

“No. Never,” he said.

“Great. No threat. Now I’m taking him home right now or I’m getting my neighbor’s law firm on the phone. Your choice.”

“Jack,” you said, rubbing your temples as you drove him back to your house. “Yesterday. You don’t want the money do you. You wanted to runaway. That’s what you wanted it for. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled from the passenger seat.

“Why didn’t you say something?” you asked. “I could have done something.”

“Cause you hate me,” he said, staring out the window.

“I don’t hate you,” you said.

“I hate me.”

You pulled over on the highway, Jack frowning at you.

“Our first new rule is you talk to me. You didn’t talk to me, didn’t talk to anyone back then. I’m not going to let that happen again, alright?” you said.

“I’m older. I’m supposed to take care of you, not the other way around,” he said.

“I don’t care. Besides, you’re only two years older, doofus,” you said. “Second rule. You will go to a therapist we pick out together, daily.”

“Y/N. I didn’t like-”

“Third rule. You don’t have to be scared. Crack a joke or make a comment. You can still be you, Jack. Eat what you want when you want. Stay up late and sleep in. You decide those things. I don’t want some mindless thing running around. I want my brother. I want a happy big brother. That’s all,” you said. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been by to visit since Christmas. That was wrong of me.”

“I did sort of yell at you last time. It’s okay,” he said, running his hands up and down his thighs. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said. He froze, swallowing hard. “I forgive you, Jack. Nothing you did was your fault. Let’s go home now, okay? We can run to the store and get you anything you want on the way. Some new clothes, maybe some food you’d like in the house. I got a whole bunch of lemon cookies on the counter. You love those.”

“You can’t possibly forgive me,” he said quietly.

“I’ve had a pretty good reminder lately of how siblings are supposed to treat one another. We’ve been doing a shitty job of it for years. So we go home and we start over,” you said. “Deal?”

“Just don’t send me back there and you got whatever you want.”

“I want you to get a job too, Jack,” you said, getting out of the car a few hours later, bags in hand. “Something part-time right now.”

“A job?” he asked.

“Yes. You need money to buy yourself things you want and I want you back out in the real world, not whatever crap they’ve been shoving down your throat the past year,” you said.

“You could have left me there,” he said, stopping halfway up the driveway.

“Once you settle in, I want us two to talk. Something...something seems really off about that place and with you Jack. I want you to stop taking any medicine they gave you until you see a new doctor. We can look tomorrow,” you said.

“Do we have to?” he groaned.

“Until I’m not afraid that every time I leave the house I’m going to come home and find something horrifying, then yeah, you’re seeing a therapist. I think it’ll be good for you,” you said. “Come on. We’ll order pizza, get you moved in.”

You both watched a soccer ball come rolling up to you a few seconds later, Avy and Dean out in the front yard, Sam laughing from the front porch, probably at Dean for kicking it so hard if you had to guess.

“Nosey neighbor?” asked Jack.

“Those are the Winchesters. I just started dating the one walking over here so play nicer than you did yesterday, please,” you said.

“Hey,” said Dean, nodding when he saw you and Jack standing there. “Sorry about that. I forget my own strength sometimes.”

You giggled, cutting it off when you saw Dean staring at Jack.

“I’m moving in,” blurted out Jack. Dean hummed, giving him a smile. “Until I’m...better. Feeling better. On my own two feet.”

“Alright. Be nice to your sister for me. You ever need somethin’, just come on over. We’re going through our own thing right now but Y/N’s had our backs more than once. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of you, Jack,” said Dean. Jack nodded, Dean doing the same back. “Y/N we uh, wanted to invite you over for dinner. Sammy’s in the mood to cook with some supervision of course. Jack, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Y/N can go. I can get...” he trailed off when he caught your face.

“We’ll be over in a little while if that’s okay?” you asked. Dean smiled and pecked a quick kiss on your lips before he headed back with the ball. “You just can’t stand to go like, four hours without seeing me, can you?”

“Even four hours is too long, sweetheart!” he laughed, kicking the ball back across the yards and over to Avy.

“He’s a dork,” you said, waving Jack with you to the front porch. “We’ll get pizza tomorrow. I promise.”

Half an hour later, Jack had his room settled and knew the ground rules you’d set for him. He would go to therapy every day during the work week and he’d find a part-time job to work at. You’d help him get a car if he decided he wanted one in a little while but for now you were driving him around. His curfew was nine during the week and ten on the weekends unless he was out with you and he most certainly did not want to find out what happened if he lied to you.

“Jack? You ready to go to dinner?” you shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“Do I have to?” asked Jack.

“Yes,” you said, leaning against the door to his new room.

“Why? It’s your boyfriend and his family,” he said.

“Because Dean was nice enough to invite you. He would very much like you to feel good again too,” you said. Jack lifted his chin. “No, I didn’t tell him anything specific. Just said you had some stuff going on.”

“What? Don’t want your boyfriend to know your brother tried to off himself?” he said, smirking as he walked down the stairs. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. “That was a joke by the way.”

“I haven’t known Dean very long. I don’t share things like that yet and it’s not really mine to share,” you said as you followed after him.

“You like this guy, huh,” he said. “You seem different from Christmas. Happier.”

“Slowly getting there. The Winchesters...their family has their own problems but they stick together. I figured...maybe we could try that,” you said.

“Y/N,” said Jack with a smile. “What happened...that’s not something I don’t think I can ever get over. I have to live with it.”

“Yeah. You do. But you’re going to live with it. You’re not leaving me too, you got it? Or else I’m going to kick your ghost ass,” you said.

“You always lost when we wrestled,” he said.

“Maybe I just let you win,” you said, grabbing the container off the front table. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

“It’s only three of them,” you said as you locked up after the two of you and cut across the yards. “Sam’s the tall guy in the beanie. Avy’s Sam’s six year old daughter. Dean’s temporarily living with them while Sam’s recovering from a car accident.”

“Must have been pretty serious,” said Jack, pausing at the bottom of their porch.

“It was. Come on, Jackie,” you said, holding out your hand.

“You haven’t called me that in a decade,” he said.

“Better get used to it again,” you said, tugging him up the steps. You rang the doorbell, Avy popping around the corner, giving you a smile. “Hey, cutie. I brought some lemon cookies for dessert.”

“You’re the best neighbor ever,” she said, opening the door for you. You laughed and handed her the container, stepping inside and slipping off your shoes. “Hi.”

“Hi,” said Jack, taking off his sneakers. “Uh, I’m Jack, Y/N’s brother.”

“Do you make cookies too?” she asked.

“No. Y/N’s the baker,” he said, giving her a smile. She took off for the kitchen, the both of you heading over to it, Dean watching Sam like a hawk from the countertop.

“Dean. There is such a thing as personal space,” said Sam while he worked over the stove.

“I mean, we’re all used to that horrendously ugly mug of yours but if you decide to pass out, I’d rather we not go to the hospital for the third time in a week, hm?” said Dean.

“I loathe you,” said Sam.

“Yup. These guys are definitely brothers,” said Jack. Sam turned away, Dean nudging him that he’d take over. Sam gave him a nod when Dean hopped to the ground and swapped places with him. “I’m Jack. Dean said it was cool if I stopped by.”

“No, no. That’s great. Y/N’s family is plenty welcome,” said Sam. “Dean said you’re moving in?”

“Yeah, for a while,” said Jack, glancing at you. “Until my new warden says I’m allowed to go.”

“I got one of those too,” said Sam, pointing over his shoulder at Dean.

“Maybe we can swap sometime,” said Jack. Sam laughed, Dean narrowing his eyes at Sam when he spun around.

“Hey, meat’s done. Finish making your tacos yourself. We’re hungry,” said Dean, patting Sam’s arm.

“Alright, bossy,” said Sam. Jack raised an eyebrow in your direction but you shook your head. “I had a bit of head trauma. Tonight’s the first night I’ve been allowed to actually cook since it happened. Dean’s a worrier if you couldn’t tell.”

“I think I got that part,” said Jack. Dean rolled his eyes and went over to get a cookie but Avy frowned and shook her head at him.

“Come on, Avy. One?” he asked.

“You’ll spoil your dinner,” she said, walking past him, Sam giving her a fist bump along the way.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “Avy, you help Uncle Dean with the plates while I whip these up.”

“You got it,” she said. You got a drink for Jack and yourself from the fridge, Dean nodding for everybody to eat outside on the back porch. It took a few trips but eventually everything made it out there.

Jack and Dean were both pretty quiet, mostly listening to Avy talk about her summer camp, Sam asking questions every so often. She got bored quickly though and went over to her swing set, playing on it while Sam kept an eye on her from his seat.

“Medicine?” asked Dean. Sam sighed and stood up, returning after a minute. “Good boy.”

“So, Jack. What do you do for a living?” asked Sam.

“Nothing at the moment. I need a part time job. I’m looking for one,” said Jack quickly.

“You ever work on cars?” asked Dean. Jack shook his head but Dean shrugged. “I work at Hunter’s over on main. Our old boss just retired last week and we could use a guy. As long as you’re not a complete idiot and got a clean driving record, we could-”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” he said. Dean stared at him.

“Eh, we’ll keep you to the basics at first. Pays pretty good, even part time.”

“Yeah, I think that sounds good for you, Jack,” you said.

“Uh, thank you. I appreciate it,” said Jack.

“Great. Now Benny will get off my ass about finding extra help,” teased Dean.

“You know, I really don’t need-” started Sam, Dean cutting him off.

“Sammy,” said Dean. “Enough. You’re not working in the garage.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Sam, staring out at the yard.

“So this is your house Sam?” asked Jack after a moment. Sam hummed, giving Jack a soft smile.

“Yeah. I was a lawyer before all this. My wife and I...our old house had a fire, about four years ago. Avy and I moved in here after that. We crashed at Dean’s for a month or so,” said Sam. “It’s a beautiful neighborhood. S’nice place to recover from stuff in.”

“I hope so,” said Jack. Sam raised an eyebrow, Jack looking to you. “Just tell your friends about me already.”

“If you want to, you can but you don’t have to,” you said.

“I tried to kill myself about a year ago,” said Jack. Sam blinked a few times and nodded, Dean remaining quiet from his corner of the table. “I got in a nasty fight with our parents. I don’t even remember what over. I left their place and went back to mine. Y/N and I didn’t talk so much then. She was off being a med student and the good child and I was...depression runs in our family apparently. Dad had it, kept it quiet. Life seemed...it seemed better if I went away. So I took a bunch of stuff...and I got a text from Y/N saying I better call her because I’d really scared her based on what mom and dad had said when they’d just talked. I thought what had I just done but I could already feel it all...stuff was shutting down. I called for an ambulance and called my parents and I guess they sped over and it was rainy out and…”

“And our parents caused the big pile up on Highway 12 last year,” you said, resting your head in your hand.

“That’s why you left med school,” said Dean.

“I saw so much that night and thought what idiot was speeding in the rain like that,” you said. “Turned out it was our parents and they came in...I had to identify them...and then I find Jack in stall twenty mid-overdose and it’s a miracle he had no permanent damage,” you said, Jack looking down at the table. “I sent him away to get help but when I went there today, I realized I just put him somewhere I wouldn’t have to deal with him. He wasn’t getting help there. Jack, you barely look up when people are talking to you anymore. I bet that place made you feel even shittier about yourself, not better.”

“Jack,” said Sam, putting his hand on the table. “I’m sorry if this is too personal but were you at Bryerwood by any chance? Up north a ways?”

“Actually, yeah,” said Jack, turning his head. “Why?”

“Nothing,” said Sam, shaking his head. “I can’t disclose other cases.”

“That’s lawyer talk for that place is sketchy,” said Dean.

“Jack...if you ever felt...inappropriate things took place there or you experienced them, I’d like to put you in contact with another lawyer at our firm. This may be...a possible class action type of situation,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what those things would have been. I don’t think I could tell the difference right now,” said Jack. You closed your eyes, Dean’s hand sneaking under the table to give your free hand a squeeze.

“Well I’m sure your sister will get your head on right. Hell, she’s been helping me do it and she probably didn’t even notice,” said Dean. You opened your mouth but Jack beat you to it.

“But you’re not nuts,” said Jack.

“You’re not nuts either, Jack,” you said. “You were sad and lonely and I was a workaholic and so were mom and dad and...we screwed up and didn’t help you. Their tough love crap made it impossible to talk to them about what we needed or wanted. I get that. I didn’t even want to be a doctor, Jack. You were brave enough to at least go your own way. I’m sorry none of us helped you and that I basically ignored you the past year.”

“You were going through your own stuff,” said Jack. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one with the messed up head.”

“Can we talk about something else?” you asked. Dean started asking Jack a few things about cars and music. You tuned them out, Sam’s voice piping in every so often. You heard a laugh, one of them belonging to Jack. Something was nudging you and you realized it was Dean poking you in the ribs.

“Want to take a walk? Jack’s going to hang back with Sam and Avy,” said Dean. You stood up with him, glad to get some time alone. You were partway down the block when Dean wrapped his hand around yours. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. That was...sorry. That was way more family drama than you needed to hear,” you said, taking a deep breath. A finger tapped under your chin and you moved your head up, Dean offering a sweet smile to you.

“Hey. You’ve been there for us with our crap. We can be there for you and Jack’s crap too,” he said.

“People aren’t as sweet as you, you know,” you said.

“Yeah they are. Thankfully I got my own sweetie right here,” he said, bumping your hip. You let out a small laugh, Dean walking closer to you. “I think it takes a lot of guts to help out your brother like that.”

“I should have-”

“Should have what? You had trauma that night too from the sounds of it. I’m sure you were trying to do the best thing for him, send him to a place that would help him. You weren’t in the right frame of mind to take care of him. Now...maybe you are,” he said.

“Yesterday morning, I thought he was just pissed off Jack again. He was asking me to get him out of there and I didn’t realize.”

“Jack’s a big boy. He could have spoken up,” said Dean.

“Who knows what they’ve been drilling in his head the past year though. He didn’t used to be so timid. Always a little innocent but...then Sam said-”

“Hey. Jack’s not there anymore and maybe once he starts talking to a good doctor, he’ll want to share some of those things but right now, just focus on the fact that Jack is probably happy tonight for the first time in a long time,” said Dean.

“I don’t know if he even knows what happy is anymore,” you said. Dean shrugged, kicking a rock with his sneaker.

“He’ll learn,” said Dean. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? I’m fine,” you said.

“Ah. Well. I’m fine too,” he said. You twitched up your lip, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You know, all that stuff you guys were talking about, it wasn’t your fault either.”

“There were so many things I could have done differently,” you said.

“You know Sammy’s accident? We had a little fight before that,” said Dean. You lifted your head, Dean swinging your hands together. “Avy was already in bed. I called him and bitched him out, told him to get his ass home and stop working so much. Sammy got pissed and I got pissed and he said fine and then got in his car. If I hadn’t of done that...Sammy wouldn’t have been in that accident.”

“But you had no control over that other driver,” you said. “Or that Sam would choose that moment to leave work.”

“Just like you have no control over an argument you weren’t involved in and a brother that never told you how low he felt and parents that decided to speed in the rain and the rest of it. Neither one of us had control. I’ll be honest, I was feeling pretty shitty about that whole thing until I started hanging out with you. So you don’t feel shitty either, alright?”

“Okay,” you said, squeezing his hand.

“Okay then,” he said. “You know...there’s a practice in town that’s a pretty good. Our parents went to him when they had marriage problems.”

“Your parents don’t seem the type,” you said.

“My deep seeded fear of commitment comes from them,” said Dean.

“Yet we’re dating,” you said.

“You must be extra special then,” he said. You cocked your head, Dean darting his eyes down to your lips. “I moved in to take care of my brother, not fall for the girl next door you know.”

“How’s that working out for ya?” you asked.

“Horrible,” he said, pressing his lips to yours. “You taste like sugar. How do you always taste like sugar…”

“Fancy thing called chapstick,” you teased.

“Never heard of it,” he laughed, spinning you around before walking again.

“Dean,” you said, grabbing his arm and wrapping yours around.

“Mhm?”

“I’m very happy I met you,” you said.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

A/N: Read Part 7 here!

[dawn-wasabi]

Vent- Why am I always the Bad Guy?

Sorry, guys, I know it's random and it seems like I'm just rambling about nonsense but I just really need to get my feelings out right now. Please understand. 

     Why am I always the bad guy? I am always willing to listen to my acquaintances, friends, teachers, and of course, my family. They could be complaining or crying over the most randomness of things, but I still listen to them and keep my comments to myself because I know it would not be kind to say in a time like that. However, the tables turn when it comes my time to ask for support or someone to talk to. Everyone plays the "woe is me" card and wants me to bust out the violin for them. They start to make me feel bad and sure, on the outside it looks as though I'm coping with my issues just fine, but in reality, you all don't know how much your non sympathy truly hurts me. You make me feel as if I am a little kid whose opinion and feelings don't matter. Obviously, you don't seem to understand that I am a person just like all of you and that I will have thoughts and emotions because I am a 16 year old teenager. 

     You may think, "Oh, you're being stupid, just brush it off." Well, it's not easy for me to brush off crap like this especially when you try to guilt-trip me and make me feel horrible like I'm being rude to you when all I'm asking is for some support. That's what your family and friends are here for, they support you, not shove you away like you don't matter! I guess you could also argue "We only want what's best for you though. You should be grateful!" Oh, don't get me wrong, I am grateful for what I have. What more could I even ask for? I have many things that not all kids get to have, a roof over my head, food to put in my gullet, a school willing to give me education, a nice car, and even the opportunity to go to trading school. Heck, colleges from all over the country are requesting me to be one of their future students. I am extremely grateful for all this, I tell you that. However, let me address one of these things as an example of what I'm trying to say. 

     You can argue with me "I only want what's best for you." Yes, I understand you want what's best for me, but also take into consideration at least a little, is that really what I want though? Recently, I was accepted into trading school for a biomedical program, which for many high school students, can be the opportunity of a lifetime. I am still planning to attend that school, but the main reason I applied for a program like that is because I felt I would be unaccepted if I didn’t. It was not necessarily something I wanted to originally do, I only did to impress my family and also gave up on the idea that my friends would be happy for me. I previously had some of them complaining to me to stop bragging, when all I was doing was discussing plans that were stressing me out on the inside. I was not trying to be a show off, I just really needed to get that angst off my chest, but apparently that’s not okay if I do that. It’s only a luxury that everyone else gets because they have so-called “depression” and “disabilities.” 

     Now, before you start getting angry at me, I am fully aware that depression and disabilities are a real thing. Trust me, enough family members and friends I know suffer from at least one of these things. That’s fine, I understand you have a condition and I’m not blaming you for something you received that was completely out of your control, but please don’t use it for your every advantage to earn attention and guilt-trip people. Also, I personally view the idea of self diagnosing yourself as complete bullshit (sorry for swearing). You never know, you think you could have depression, but in reality, you are just unhappy at that moment. That’s all I’m trying to say. I also disapprove of the fact how people tell me this constantly too when I am unable to sit and do their bidding. “I’m gonna go kill myself!” Look, suicide is no joke and people who actually say that seem only to do it to earn attention, because if you were really serious about it, you would not be saying it and you would have already done it before anybody even realized that you were suicidal. Let’s face it though, a majority of people who say “I have depression” and “I’m gonna kill myself” is commonly teens and young adults. Why? It’s simple, because they have nothing better to do than sit on their asses, on their electronics, and complain to start drama and earn attention from others when really they were the ones to start up all the crap. 

     I know, I know, truth hurts, and I’m such a horrible person for telling you like it is, but you will either understand that I have a point or you will just leave because you can’t handle the real and ugly truth. You obviously have been cooped up living in a digital bubble for so long that you can’t even accept the truth about reality and the world you live in. I am a person who can’t be stuck in front of a screen all day because I actually have responsibilities in real life that I need to do, not just sit and play video games and text people for 16 hours a day. It’s ridiculous how many people can’t understand that. Especially when it’s those closest to me who can’t seem to get the message. Why should I keep wasting my breath with people like that if all they’re going to do is guilt-trip me for attention and judge every move I make to be a well adjusted adult? I don’t judge you and I don’t try and guilt-trip you for attention even when I need it. I never talk to you about my problems because you don’t give me that same luxury I give to you. That just shows how much you care about yourself and not your peers. You don’t know how much I care about each and every one of my friends and family, whether it be knowing you in the real world or knowing you online, and it hurts to know that I would put my life first before you, but you would never do such a thing like that for me because you care more about your well-being than mine. If you cared in the same manner as me, we would both be on the same page, not in separate books. 

     Alright, I think that’s all I have to say. If you’re lucky enough to be reading this part, that really means the world to me. That shows some of you proved me wrong and that some of you actually care. For that, thank you from the bottom of my heart. It makes me feel so much happier. :) It gives me another reason to smile again. :D Again, thank you and sorry for the rambling, but I just really needed to get this off my chest. It’s been bothering me for the last few weeks and I feel that writing this vent out was actually very good therapy for me. So, I much appreciated you listening, and I will be sure to post again very soon. Thank you and have a jolly good day. :) :D :) :D 

[namjuicyy]

A Father’s Love - Chapter 10 [FINAL]

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut.

Genre of this part: Fluff.

Word Count: 1.9k.

Summary: Single father, Namjoon, struggles to keep his idol life and his private life separate. When he meets you, everything changes.

Warnings: None.

ONE YEAR LATER

The American leg. It was their longest stretch of the entire tour, and during the middle of it, Namjoon was visibly losing the will to live. He gave his all onstage, of course he did, but as soon as the curtains had closed he was close to collapsing. More so from emotional exhaustion rather than physical.

Manager Sejin gave you a call, asking if there was any way that you could fly out to him, join them in America and stay with them for as long as you possibly could. You missed your man. It had been an incredibly long time since you'd seen him... in fact, the longest time. Haneul had taken his father's spot on the bed and cuddled up to you and daddy's Koya pillow. Haneul was usually okay with Namjoon leaving. Of course he missed him, but never this much. So, you thought you'd take Sejin's offer up, and organised to surprise Namjoon in the middle of their tour. Because he needed you, and you and Haneul needed him.

Haneul had never travelled overseas before. He had nothing, so, while he was out at playgroup, you went out to the shopping centre to get some things for the trip: a small suitcase for Haneul, plus one of those adorable Ride and Roll carry-on suitcases that you knew Haneul would love. Sure he was a little mature for his age, given that the majority of people he knew were adults, but he absolutely loved everything he should being a child. The suitcases were packed by the time you had to go and pick him up, the tickets had been sent via email, the Visas had been sorted, you were pretty much ready to go. So, after picking Haneul up from playgroup, you took the detour to the airport and surprised him there and then.

He cried at the prospect of being able to see his daddy again. They were happy tears, of course they were, and despite his crying, he was practically running through security, moaning at you because you were going too slow. He didn't want to sit on his Ride and Roll, but it got to the point where he was running through the airport, you had to force him to sit on it just so you knew where he was.

He was a bearable nightmare on the 13 hour flight from Incheon to San Francisco. He was so excited to finally see his dad again, he tried his hardest to stay awake. He was too afraid of falling asleep and missing it all, landing, getting in the car, seeing daddy. He did pass out, however, half way through his lunch to be precise. His head was almost dunking itself into his yogurt. He was so adorable. You took a photo of him before removing the yogurt from the small boy's path so he didn't actually look like someone's pudding.

Landing was smooth, and going through the airport was even smoother given that you both were privately escorted through security so that no one could get at you or your son. Manager Sejin was waiting the other side, taking your bags off you so you could strap a sleeping Haneul into the seat beside you so he could continue sleeping until you got to the venue. Sejin made conversation with you all the way there, telling you about Namjoon's slump and how he just didn't seem to be taking care of himself properly. You found yourself getting angry at him for his unprofessionalism, but you knew exactly how he felt. The only reason you hadn't gone into a slump yourself was because you had Haneul to take care of.

You woke him up just as you entered the venue, getting him to truly wake up before he lost his mind at his father. You made him remain as quiet as possible as you walked backstage, and Haneul took this a little too far, tip toeing as he made his way backstage, to make doubly sure that his dad didn't hear him.

The door to the artist dressing room opened, and you heard the boys laughing. They saw Sejin and started trying to rope him into some scheme they were plotting to bully Taehyung with. "Listen," he said holding his hands up, "what you lot do in your spare time is none of my business. However, Namjoonie, I need you to do me a favour."

"What's up?" Namjoon asked.

"I need you to stand here." He pointed to a spot in the room that made sure Namjoon was in the centre so everyone could see him, but more importantly, he could see the two of you as soon as the door opened wider. Namjoon disappeared from your view and you heard him stop walking, clearly in position. "Close your eyes."

"Oh God. Last time someone told me to do that, Jungkook shoved his ass in my face and farted."

The whole room erupted in laughter, Jungkook's hands clapping violently as he recalled his prank and felt no remorse for it.

"Trust me." Sejin's voice was soft, but firm. Namjoon obviously did as he was told, because when the door opened to reveal you and Haneul, he didn't move. Sejin moved out the way, "open them."

Namjoon's eyes snapped open and immediately focussed on you and then moved to Haneul. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms wide. Haneul didn't waste any time. "Daddy!" He screamed as he toddled towards his father, launching himself into Namjoon's chest and wrapping his tiny arms around Namjoon's torso.

Namjoon groaned at the impact, but didn't mind the slight pain as his son was wrapped up in his arms again. "Oh my baby boy." He breathed. "I missed you so much. Stop, let me look at you." He gently pushed his son off of him so he could hold his chubby cheeks in his large hands and stare at his son, taking in his entire appearance. "Look at you! You got so tall!"

"I am exactly a hundred and one centimetres." Haneul stated proudly. "Mummy checked."

At the mention of you, Namjoon looked up. He'd almost forgotten that you were there. He picked Haneul up and rested him on his hip, and made his way over to you. His free hand cupped your cheek and his lips immediately attached themselves to yours, keeping you locked to him in a very passionate kiss, just screaming how much he missed you.

"Get a fucking room, you two!" Hoseok shouted from across the room.

"Yeah, daddy, get a fucking room." Haneul repeated.

Namjoon broke the kiss immediately to gently scold his son for his poor use of language. You, on the other hand, had to leave the room so that Haneul couldn't see you laughing at his parrot-like behaviour.

You were there for the show that night, and Haneul got to see his daddy perform for the first time. He was completely enthralled by the stage and how the band performed. He couldn't look away, and screamed every single time he saw Namjoon, either on the stage or on the screen.

Their second night in San Francisco ended with Namjoon bring his son on stage for the endingment, because that's what Haneul asked. He wanted to see what his daddy saw, to know what it was like to be on stage with so many people looking at you. So, Namjoon obliged. And fans lost their mind when they saw the spitting image of Namjoon waddling onto the stage, looking incredibly excited to be there. Namjoon gave Haneul the microphone, as he held him on his hip, and asked him if there was anything he wanted to say. Haneul went shy in that moment, which was pretty much unlike him, but every time Namjoon tried to say something meaningful, Haneul took the microphone off him and placed a kiss to his cheek.

You and Haneul joined Bangtan for the rest of the American tour, bringing in a private tutor from Korea to teach Haneul things during the day, making sure he didn't miss out on his schoolwork. And when he wasn't with his tutor, he was with you and Namjoon, running around on the empty stage and screaming as loud as he could to make his voice echo around the stadium.

The boys had a final free day in New York before they were due to head to the next state, so Namjoon decided to make it special for the three of you. He blindfolded you, and made sure the location was a surprise. The summer breeze hit you as soon as you got out the car, and by the sounds of the people in the background and the cars driving passed, you knew you were somewhere really busy. He pushed you by your shoulders, making sure Haneul was following behind you, and kept you steady as you walked onto the dry grass. He stopped you, gently removed your blindfold, and you almost cried at the sight in front of you.

In the centre of Central Park sat a red and white tartan blanket, weighed down by a few picnic baskets and paper plates and disposable cutlery. Namjoon knew you loved intimate moments with people you loved, and he couldn't have made this any more intimate even if he'd tried. Inside the baskets were your favourite foods, there was some pizza, cakes, sweets, snacks, just general items that were easy enough to eat without the need for plates and fine dining.

His tone turned serious after your meal, as you both sat there and watched Haneul play in the dirt not too far away from you. "You know, I owe a lot to you." He began.

"No you don't."

"I do. We do. It's because of you we became happy again. You fixed me... us. When you left the first time, you had every right to, and I was so terrified I'd never see you again. Hannie was, too, you know. Though he didn't necessarily know you'd gone and been gone for long, he knew something wasn't right. He loves you. Perhaps more than I do if that's even possible. We're lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have you both. You invited me into your lives happily. You gave me a family when my own family was half the world away. I love you so much. I love you both so much. I don't ever want to imagine my life without you."

"Me either." He was quiet for a second. "Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me. I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with you, anyway. You're too amazing to let go. So why not make it official? I'm desperately in love with you, always will be. Marry me."

You didn't even need to think. The word just came out without you realising. "Yes." You saw his face light up and wash with relief. He held you close to him, tighter than he'd ever held you before. His hand went to his pocket and pulled out a box-less ring. Turned out he was going to ask you anyway. The ring, it didn't fit. Of course it wouldn't. He didn't check your size and used Jimin's hands as a guide. So with another hug, he promised you that you'd go together and get it sorted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement. You saw a familiar face with long hair that was let loose around thin shoulders. A face you recognised, laced with some emotion you didn't even want to register. It couldn't be. Was... was that Minji?

[bluehhj]

listen to me — chapter 38

LISTEN TO ME — 0038

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.7K

Jinah felt as if she were walking beside a heavy storm cloud that would start shooting lightning everywhere at any moment. It was a surprise to see that Jade was willing — as far as possible — to go to class that Monday, given that she could barely sleep the night before and everything around her made her want to cry repeatedly, but, Jinah was starting to believe the idea had not been so good. Perhaps it would have been better if the american had stayed at home, the motives were explicit on her face.

— "Jade" — after looking at her out of the corner of her eye more than four times and holding on to herself not to keep a safe distance, Jinah finally spoke, using as much caution as she could muster. — "Is everything alright?"

Obviously it was not all right, but Choi never thought that crossing the campus next to one of her best friends would become so tense. Jade was no longer crying, though the makeup covering her face — including all the freckles, which, unfortunately, she made a point of hiding — made it clear that her intention was to hide her dark circles and her haggard expression. Her jaw was clenched, and Jinah, in all the years she had known Kang, could tell with conviction that she had never seen her carry such a sharp look. Truth be told, Jieun looked ready to do a massacre. It was a little scary.

Jinah had her question completely ignored. The same had happened to Chan, a little while earlier, still in the kitchen of their shared apartment. With Felix too, when they met at the college entrance and he came to know how she was doing. All of this generated some pressure, as if she were a time bomb. It got worse as Jade walked straight past her office building and headed toward the life sciences building.

— "Where are you going?" — asked Jinah, again in vain. She would have an appraisal exercise in seven minutes, but she felt that, if she let the american do what she was going to do on her own, it would definitely go wrong. — "At least wait for me!"

Jade entered the corridors like a hurricane. Little did she know which way she was going, her eyes just darting over the little plates above the doors, and when she finally read 'Biomedicine — Ninth Period', she didn't think twice before entering the room. Luckily, there weren't many people waiting for the professor yet, but the one she wanted to find was standing right in front of her. Kang left no warning before gathering all the strength she had in her body, clenching her fist and punching Josh's face, who fell to the ground with shock.

— "Jade!" — scolded Jinah, pulling her friend by the arm. — "It could cause you to be expelled from college, you idiot!"

— "I warned you that you weren't supposed to come into my life with Changbin, didn't I?" — Jieun practically spat in Josh's face. A trickle of blood ran down the boy's nose, who couldn't take his eyes off of the floor. — "I thought I could trust you!"

— "Calm down" — Hyunjin got up from his desk and joined Jinah in trying to continue the mission of controlling the american girl's nerves. — "Jinah's right, this is no time or place to work it out."

— "I could take the case to the dean right now and get you in a lot of trouble," — muttered Josh, blankly, still not looking up or even making to get up.

— "Well, do it!" — answered Jade. — "So I'm free to break the rest of this cynical face of yours!"

The way Josh was acting was totally and completely contradictory. He barely had the courage to look Kang in the eye, such was his shame and regret, yet he still acted like an idiot because it seemed a thousand times easier than stepping on his own pride, apologizing, and accepting that this fight was no longer his, that Changbin had won that time. Josh loved Jade, but Jade loved Changbin. And now she hated Josh. It hurt.

— "You talk like it's just my fault..." — and it really was, but maybe he deserved the punch and a little more. Damn the dean and all the bureaucracy. — "Since you even closed your eyes..."

Like fire finding gasoline, Jade went up on Josh again, needing Jinah and Hyunjin to stop her from reaching Lee. Angry and frustrated, she tired of debating uselessly and shoved her two friends, then left the room with the same speed she had entered. Jinah sighed and exchanged a discouraged look with Hyunjin, who, nonetheless, reached out and helped Josh to his feet, but made no point of saying anything to the latter.

And it was still only Monday.

                                                           ♡˖°

Minhwan lit another cigarette.

The perfectly glazed car was smelling of smoke, but he didn't give a shit. Standing under the shade of a tree, a few yards from the college's main gates, he had more important things to think and worry about.

The distance he was in did not allow him to see exactly, but, after so many days of doing the same routine, he had become accustomed to the condition of seeing her only from afar. And it was almost unbelievable to think that time could only make Jinah more and more beautiful.

Minhwan felt hate, but also felt love. Sounds crazy, but you can't blame him, after all, that's what he is. A crazy, insane, unbalanced, delirious, wild and every other synonym found in the dictionary. However, like everything else in this life, he had reason to be so, since living on crumbs while spending most of the day following someone from afar as a hallucinated was not a choice any sane person would choose to make.

It used to be like a light at the end of the tunnel. Darkness was everywhere, but there was a speck that he pinned his hopes on and clung tightly when everything else pressed down on him. Minhwan was only sixteen when he met Jinah — his little flame in the middle of a freezing night —, and, from then on, the weight on his shoulders became much more bearable. He hadn't had a chance to find out what many people's hearts had to offer, but, of the few that had ever done him any good in his life, Choi was certainly, the most valuable. There is not always someone who is willing to sew a heart full of cuts.

Minhwan had been raised by his maternal grandmother since his mother died at his father's dirty hands and was sent to prison. He had no siblongs, thank God, so he wouldn’t have to witness another innocent child suffer all that he had suffered as a child. The marks were everywhere, both on his body and his soul. At the time, Minhwan didn't have many friends to talk to, but he was pretty sure the parents of the other street kids didn't do what his did when they were alone at home. And even as an adult, he still couldn't find enough words to describe exactly how he felt, just carried the unwanted whimpers in his nightmares and a screaming horror in his heart. When his grandmother also died, it was as if the old bricks supported by only a crumbling pillar collapsed and threw their heavy debris on his back — the world came to the ground. And then, Jinah appeared.

Minhwan didn't believe there was a more amazing person on Earth. Even with all his faults, Choi had accepted him and made herself available to cure him of all his suffering. Her smiles functioned more like infinite anti-inflammatories that sent the pain far away and spread tranquility through every cell of his body. Minhwan loved her so much he felt his chest sting, and strongly believed she would be by his side forever. But then came insecurity and fear.

After so many early losses, he had taken some trauma from too strong relationships. Jinah had a lot of friends and much more uncomplicated and interesting people to talk to; so, anyone who approached and took one of her kind smiles was already viewed as an opponent by Minhwan. The boy never wanted to lose her, only that possibility made the scars in his heart ache as if they might reopen. And Jinah always knew so much cooler guys! Guys who knew how to be romantics, who were prettier, who had more money, who could offer her so much more than an obsessive love! Although Choi had never cared about these things or disrespected him at some point in their relationship, it was impossible for Minhwan not to let jealousy gradually overwhelm his conscience, causing him to make threats, be aggressive and extremely controlling, act impulsively and hurt one of the only people who really cared about him, all for fear of losing.

But it was no use, because he lost anyway. Now, he couldn't even get close to Jinah thanks to the subpoena he received when Choi informed the police that she was uncomfortable with his presence. Not that he cared about laws or court orders, but, on second thought, it was even better, since Minhwan didn't want to do anything ahead of time and wasn't sure what would be his reaction to being face to face with the boy who lately only knew how to draw passionate glances from his girl.

Han Jisung. Minhwan hated him. He was pretty sure Han didn't deserve all the love Jinah gave him, just as he didn't love Choi enough — in Minhwan’s tormented head, no one would love Jinah more than himself. It was simply unbearable to see them kissing or walking hand in hand on the street, it looked like a misplaced piece in a complicated puzzle. Minhwan wanted Jisung to disappear once and for all... He wanted to disappear too. Or rather, wanted to find peace... But he couldn't do it without Jinah.

Although now she looked genuinely happy, as when Minhwan promised.

Yeah... Maybe Jinah should disappear too.

Everything's gonna be okay.

a/n: things are going downhill lol

I decided to talk a little bit about how Minhwan feels not to be like in those stories that the couple is having a wonderful time and out of nowhere a crazy idiot appears to end it and that's it. I didn't put it in all the words, but I imagine you guys understood that he was abused by his father when he was little and this generates an absurd trauma to any child, especially if not treated with a specialist doctor, so this is one of the reasons why he's kind of crazy like that.

Josh is not just another sucker either, he just has a hard time dealing with his feelings and that makes him stupid most of the time, but I ask you guys to calm down. You guys don't even have to like him yet, I just want to say that, like Chaerin from the beginning of the au, his attitudes don't show everything he really is.

and speaking of Chaerin, let's add Seungmin and say that they are missing in 'Listen To Me', don't you guys think? I at least think that and already advance that the two little angels will soon be between us

can I ask you guys to tell me your expectations? if you guys are liking it or what you expect. I haven't asked this for a long time and I always like to know, so don't be afraid to tell me :)

I'm leaving now, Ily and see you guys in the next chapter <3

[nekoabi]

On the Verge of a Heartbreak - Chapter 32

So, this is the final chapter of the main story. I may come back and write a couple short things, and I do have an epilogue already planned, but this is the end for our boys. I really do wanna thank anyone who’s been interested in this fic at any point, it’s been something I’ve wanted to write for so long and I’m so freaking happy that other people were as invested as I was <3

AU: Human, School Pairing: Moxiety Words: 1670 Warnings: Nothing I can think of. Please let me know if there is anything <3

Summary: Patton packs up his things and moves out with Virgil’s family.

Virgil leant against the doorframe as he watched Patton pack the last of his things into the last of the boxes that had been laying all around the room. It was strange to be here again, and he didn’t exactly feel safe, but he couldn’t let Patton come here alone.

From the moment they’d woken up, both of the boys had been ushered across the road by Virgil’s parents. They stood in silence and listened as the adults of both families talked and argued at the front door. Liliana was vehemently standing by her decision to allow Patton to come along with them, while his mother was trying to find a way to keep her son nearby. It was obvious from the start that she had no true arguments that held up well and she eventually folded.

The Mortensons had then carried extra boxes up into his bedroom and left the two alone to pack up Patton’s belongings. They were given a few hours, so Patton could take his time with packing. They’d also been given that time in case they needed to suddenly get out of the house because of any foul behaviour.

Thankfully, the whole time they’d been in his room, Patton’s brother remained in his own bedroom, utterly silent. It was completely void of sound, no semblance of life inside the room, but they knew he was in there. It made Virgil relax the tiniest amount, but he was still on guard in case Roman decided to show his face.

The emo moved out of the way as his boyfriend silently grabbed the last box and slowly made his way out and down the stairs. Virgil decided to stay up in the room, as he heard Patton’s parents talking to him. He stepped inside the empty bedroom and really had a good look around.

Virgil had only been in here once and yet it still felt so strange.

The baby blue walls were blank, excluding the painted extra circles of darker blue. It was entirely un-Patton-like. Virgil was able to visualise all the drawings and posters and photos that had almost entirely engulfed the walls the last time he was here, as well as from that morning. Now the only things hiding the painted walls were the pieces of empty, blank furniture.

Virgil ran his hand down the doors of Patton’s wardrobe. The stickers he’d placed there still remained, the last sign that this was a room that belonged to the happy-go-lucky child. Virgil traced each one he could reach. He wondered when these had been put on the light wood, how long they’d stayed, if they’d ever been replaced, if any of these were put on by someone other than Patton. At one point, his feet began to slowly drift across the floor, trailing him across the room at a snail’s pace. This allowed for his feet to tangle slightly and his hand to instinctively grab onto the handle of the wardrobe door, causing it to swing open.

The plain white back stared Virgil in the face, with the daylight streaming in through the window shining off the empty metal bar at the top. He’d never seen inside the piece of furniture, but the emo could easily imagine all of Patton’s colourful clothes hanging up inside, creating a rainbow of bright and pastel colours. He could see his boyfriend standing where he was as he attempted to pick out his outfit for the day.

A squeaky yawn caught Virgil’s attention and he turned to the now-stripped bed. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched the small dog stretch and curl back up, ready to nap once more. Virgil took a seat at the edge of the bare mattress and carefully petted the small animal. He knew Reilly was extremely important to Patton, even though he’d only met the tiny dog a few times when Patton had brought him outside. Virgil had listened to Patton whenever he’d rattle off all the great things about the dog; how soft he was, how friendly, how loving. The emo was really only able to see a couple of those things as the small dog seemed to think negatively of him, but he believed Patton, for the most part. Reilly was even one of the ways Patton’s parents attempted to keep him around, arguing that because Reilly was seen as “Patton’s Dog”, it wouldn’t be right to leave him alone. Virgil’s dad had quickly responded by casually saying they’d take the dog as well if he was so important to Patton. Virgil was only absently stroking the dog as he got lost in his thoughts, which meant he wasn’t ready for Reilly’s sharp yap that told him to stop petting.

The emo stood and backed away from the dog, “Okay, I’m stopping.” He quietly assured the dog, who only curled up again and began to nap once more. Virgil dragged his feet across the carpet, heading to stand in front of the window. He looked out towards his own house, or rather his old house. He ran his hand over the empty windowsill, mentally pointing out where each and every random decoration was last time he looked. It was going to be so strange, moving to a brand-new place, not seeing his usual view out the window anymore, not writing on his window to talk to his boyfriend and instead being able to just talk to him pretty much whenever he wanted.

Just as he was thinking about going to check on Patton, as Virgil realised he’d been gone for quite a while now, the soft voice called from out in the hallway, “Hey Virge? Is Reilly still in here?”

Virgil turned around just in time to see Patton coming around the doorframe and entering the room. He watched as the boy made his way across the floor and sat himself down on the mattress, sitting close to his dog. There was something that just looked so sad about the whole picture. Virgil moved to sit on the opposite side, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend, “It’s okay.” He whispered, rocking Patton softly in order to try and comfort him better.

“But why do I feel so sad?” Patton asked into the empty room to no one in particular, “I should be happy. I’m getting to live with you and I’m getting away from here.” He didn’t go into specifics, as he knew Roman was probably trying to listen in. “I should feel so happy, and I am excited… but I’m also just so sad…”

Virgil squeezed Patton for a brief moment, “It’s okay to feel sad, Pat. You’re leaving all you’ve ever known and your family, it makes sense. It won’t be easy, but you’ll get through it, we’ll get through it and be stronger because of it.”

Patton snuggled closer to Virgil, “I suppose…”

The young couple stayed in their embrace for a little while, neither really having the drive to get up and head downstairs. It was only once they heard Jason calling up to them that they finally moved. Patton bundled Reilly into his arms and led the way down the stairs. Virgil shut the bedroom door behind him and gave one last look towards Roman’s before following.

As soon as they touched the ground floor, Patton’s mother wrapped him in a tight hug. She said her goodbyes through her tears, while his father merely stood behind and waited for his turn to speak. Virgil slid past and went to stand outside with his own parents, so he could give the Ashworths their time alone.

“Where’s Patton?” His dad asked once he saw Virgil exiting the house alone.

“Just saying goodbye to his parents, I think…” The young man looked behind him in order to emphasise his point.

“Ah, right. Well, you two are still okay to be travelling in the car with Logan, right?”

Virgil had almost forgotten that his parents were going to have to take the moving van that was full of all their belongings, while he and Patton were having to go along with Logan in the family’s car. Virgil shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, “I guess. I don’t really care.”

Jason ruffled his son’s hair, causing the emo to flail a little in an attempt to get him to stop. There was a soft laugh from behind them as Patton was walking towards them, a slightly happier expression on his face.

“Everything is loaded into the van. Are we ready to go?” Logan called from the back of the van.

Everyone agreed, and they piled into their respective vehicles. Patton and Virgil sat in the back seats together, preferring to keep each other company like that, while Reilly sat on Patton’s lap. The Ashworths came to stand outside their home, watching and waiting to wave goodbye to their son and the other family. Roman still refused to show his face, however.

Patton watched, his heart aching as the car started and began to roll down the street. He waved to his parents until they were completely out of sight. He knew this was all for the best, his life would be better now he could be away from Roman and his influence and all of that, but that didn’t make it any less scary. His free hand was shaking slightly, the other was occupied in steadying the tiny dog in his lap.

All of a sudden, Virgil’s hand was slipping beneath Patton’s, their fingers interlocking loosely. The young man smiled and turned to his emo boyfriend, watching as he pretended to ignore Patton’s gaze and stare out the window at the moving scenery. Everything was going to get better, they would prove to Roman that it wasn’t a mistake, that both of them were going to make each other the happiest people in the world. With that comforting thought, Patton was finally able to relax a little more and enjoy the car ride.  

Last Chapter —– Next Chapter

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[spn-rewrites]

01x07 (part 1)

Season One Episode Seven: Hook Man

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: after searching for days for John Winchester, the group has no luck. upon stumbling across an article about a mysterious, death they go check it out. luckily for Dean, they’re surrounded by hot sorority girls. 

part 2 part 3

A/N: hey guys! i’m trying out a new format of breaking the episodes into parts because they’re so long so hope you like it! my main blog is still cracked-kingshawn but i made a side blog specifically for my SPN rewrites so that you guys can follow this and my shawn stuff isn’t clogging your dash! i tagged everyone that’s been being tagged in the previous parts, so if you’re confused that could be why!! haha feel free to message me if you have any questions or want to be tagged in future part

“Your half-calf vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Francis,” Dean said as Sam headed back to the cafe table that the three of you were sat at. Dean was hunched over the laptop while you were tapping your nails against the plastic table impatiently. There has yet to be a case pop up, so in the meantime, it’s been quiet conversations and fast food diners across the country. There has yet to be a conversation about anything the shapeshifter had said.

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled as he sat down on the chair.

“So, anything?” Dean asked, his eyes still not moving from the laptop screen in front of him.

“I had them check the FBI missing person database and no “John Does” fitting that description,” Sam groaned. He sounded frustrated and he had every right to be. The three of you had been searching for John for months now and there hasn’t been a single clue to where he could be. “I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t think dad wants to be found,” Dean said the last thing Sam wanted to hear. “Check this out,” he said, shoving he computer over to Sam to show him an article that you barely caught a glance at before the screen turned away from you. Dean motioned his head for you to sit closer to Sam. You hesitated, but did anyway to read the article. “News item out of Plains Courier, Ankeny, Iowa. Only about 100 miles from here,” Dean said.

“Mutilated body was found near the victim’s car parked on 9-mile road.” Sam stopped reading but Dean egged him to keep going. “Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted saying the attacker was invisible.” Sam stopped now, looking up at Dean. Your eyes kept scanning the article but there was nothing else of value.

“It could be interesting,” Dean suggested. Since it was so close, it would make sense to just pop in and see what was going on. It wasn’t like you had anything better going on, anyway.

“It could be nothing,” Sam pushed back. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything. Doesn’t mean it’s the invisible man,” Sam shook his head and pushed the laptop back in front of Dean. You sat back in your chair and listened as the two went back and forth about it.

“What if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean replied. The only answer that would make Sam do almost anything as if it meant finding John Winchester. Dean paid the bill for the two coffees that were ordered and one water before packing up all of your belongings and getting back into the Impala for the next 100 miles.

Ankeny, Iowa was a small town with seemingly nothing going on besides this invisible murder. Dean didn’t give any clues as to where you three were headed in this town but the smoke would have been coming out of Sam’s ears if this were a cartoon when he saw the frat house that you pulled up to. “Oh my god, why are we here?” Sam whispered to Dean as you stepped around garbage littered in the street.

There were a few boys working on a beaten up car and dirty furniture in the grass. “The victim lived here,” Dean explained. “Nice wheels,” Dean complimented as a boy rolled out from under the car. None of the boys answered him, so Dean continued on. “We’re your fraternity brothers from Ohio,” he said and glanced back at you. “And this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” The frat boys looked Sam and Dean up and down, trying to determine if they were telling the truth or not before looking at you. Their eyes lingered a little longer on your chest than you were comfortable with.

“We’re new in town, transfers. We’re looking for a place to stay,” Sam continued after the boys still remained silent. After a beat, they were more than welcoming and invited you three into the frat house. You always wondered what it looked like inside one of these. If it was as messy as some of the movies show or as preppy and stuck up like the others. This one was right in the middle.

Dean knocked on one of the doors labeled Purple Man and a man, who was painting himself purple, turned around and looked at the three of you. “Who are you?” He asked, stopping midpoint.

“We’re your new roommates,” Dean announced, throwing his hands up. The Purple Man seemed to be fairly accepting of this and shrugged his shoulders as he handed Dean the paint brush.

“Do me a favor? Get my back?” He asked as he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. “Big game today,” he explained. You pursed out your lips as you looked around the room. It wasn’t clean but it also wasn’t horribly dirty. It was definitely not a place you wanted to sleep, though. At least motel rooms get cleaned.

“He’s the artist,” Dean pointed to Sam, handing him the paintbrush. “The things he can do with a brush,” he said. The Purple Man seemed content and was waiting for Sam to paint. Sam took a deep breath, sending his brother a glare and began to paint.

“So, who’s the girl?” The Purple Man asked, eyeing you up in the mirror. Sam cleared his throat and stepped in front of you, blocking his view from you in the reflection.

“Y/N, my girl,” Dean replied quickly, keeping the story consistent. The Purple Man held up his hands in defense. Like an apology for eyeing up his ‘girl’. Dean sat down on the chair in front of the window and keeping consistent, you sat down next to him. He picked up a magazine that had the guy’s name written on the top. Murphey. “So, Murph, is it true?” Dean asked.

“Is what true?” Murphey asked, glancing at Dean but his main focus was making sure that Sam wasn’t messing up his important game day body paint.

“We heard one of the guys here got killed last week,” he said nonchalantly. Almost as if it were no big deal that a young adult boy got murdered.

Murphey’s face fell and his expression made it clear that it was, in fact, a big deal. “Yeah.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, looking at Murphey in the mirror as he painted.

“They’re saying some psycho with a knife, maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy,” Murphey said, his pain evident in his voice.

“Rich was with somebody?” Sam asked, digging for more details.

“Not just somebody - Lori Sorenson,” Murphey said it and looked at Sam as if we were supposed to automatically know who Lori Sorenson was. Sam shook his head as Dean flipped through the magazine he was holding.

“Who’s Lori Sorenson?” Dean asked as he looked up from his reading. “Oh, you missed a spot. On his back,” he said as he pointed to a bare spot on Murphey’s back. Sam sent Dean another glare and you smacked his bicep gently.

“Lori’s a freshman. She’s a local and super hot. Get this - she’s a reverend’s daughter,” Murphey explained like he was in awe of this girl. Dean nodded and closed the magazine, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“You wouldn’t happen to know which church, would you?” Dean asked, hopeful to find this girl and ask her exactly what she saw and why she thinks he was invisible.

Murphey thankfully pointed you in the right direction and upon entering the church, there was a sermon going on. The pews were filled and you entered as quietly as possible, Dean following you. “Our hearts go out to the family of the young man who perished, and my personal prayers and thanks go out, as well, because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter. And now as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means to us as a church….” The reverend stopped as Sam slammed the door shut behind him. You sent him daggers and he shrugged his shoulders as if it were an accident. “As a community, and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic,” the reverend went on as the three of you sat down. A young woman in green, her hair tied up, had her head cranked to watch you the entire time. “A life unlived in the saddest of passings. So please, let us pray for peace, for guidance and for the power to protect our children.”

You and Sam both tilted your head down in prayer, to respect the church you were being welcomed into. You noticed Dean wasn’t praying so you elbowed him in the side. He nodded and tilted his head down as the reference read aloud a prayer.

When the sermon got released, the three of you lost the girl in green in the crowd. You decided to just wander around until you found her and when you spotted her, Sam took the opportunity to talk to her. “Are you Lori?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said as she turned around to face the three of you.

“My name is Sam, this is my brother Dean and this is our friend, Y/N. We just transferred to the university,” Sam explained. Lori smiled at him and nodded.

“I saw you inside,” she said, keeping polite conversation although you were sure that you three looked very weird.

“We don’t want to bother you but we heard about what happened,” Sam said, a small smile played on his lap. The charming card, once again.

“We just wanted to say how sorry we were,” you added. She looked at you and then back at Sam and nodded as if she couldn’t find the words, or didn’t want to.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam admitted. “I-I saw someone…..get hurt once. Its something you don’t forget,” he stuttered on his words, choosing them carefully. Dean looked up at his younger brother but you avoided eye contact, once again the mention of Jess making your skin crawl. Before she could respond, the Reverend himself came up.

“Dad, this is Sam, Dean and Y/N.” Lori put her hand out to grab her father’s arm as she introduced us. “They’re new students,” she explained.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Dean said as he stuck his hand out to shake the Reverends. “I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much, it’s very nice to meet young people who are open to the Lord’s message,” the Reverend said.

“Listen, we’re new in town, actually,” Dean started as he put his hand on the Reverend’s back and walked him away from the situation so you and Sam could dig deeper into Lori’s side of the story. As soon as Dean left, you felt oddly uncomfortable. Ever since the shapeshifter, and lack of discussing what was said, you’ve felt weird around Sam. Like he knows you have feelings but they’re not reciprocated so he’s just ignoring them.

“Tell me, Lori, what are the police saying?” Sam asked, jumping right into the heart of it.

“Well, they don’t have a lot to go on. I think they blame me for that,” she said as the three of you began to walk around.

“What do you mean?” You asked, inserting yourself into the conversation. Lori glanced over at you.

“My story, I guess I was so scared I guess I was seeing things,” she said and stopped walking. She looked up at Sam, worry in her eyes. It looked like she was reliving the moment over and over as she talked.

“The doesn’t mean it wasn’t real,” Sam whispered, shaking his head. After all these years of hunting things, that was the one thing you knew for certain. Lori hesitated for a moment and then smiled at him. You watched as Sam smiled back at her and it felt almost like you were invisible.

“So you believe her?” Dean asked as you walked down the aisle of the library hoping to find any books or records to help you out with this case. You excused yourself from Sam and Lori’s conversation without saying a word to go find Dean, who was now sitting alone by the Impala. It was only a few short moments before Sam joined you and you were off.

“I do,” Sam said.

“I think she’s hot, too,” Dean joked, raising his eyebrows and smirking at his brother. You hit Dean’s arm from next to him and he coughed, clearing his throat from the comment.

“No, man. There’s something in her eyes,” Sam explained, ignoring his brother’s comments. “And, listen to this. She heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car,” Sam told you the details of the night that you were too uncomfortable to stick around and hear for yourself. Dean stopped and held his hand out to stop Sam, too.

“Bloody body suspended? That sounds like -”

“Yeah, I know. The Hookman legend,” Sam cut Dean off and nodded his head as

if this was obvious.

“What’s the Hookman legend?” You asked, once again feeling left out but Dean looked over to you and smiled.

“It’s one of the most famous urban legends, you’ve never heard of it?” He asked and you shook your head in response. “You don’t think we’re dealing with the Hookman?” He directed his question towards Sam and he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Every urban legend has a source, a place where it all began,” Sam said, seemingly confident in his early diagnosis of the case.

“What about the scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?” Dean asked, listing off things that you were assuming were inconsistent with the legend of the Hookman.

“Well, maybe the Hookman isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?” Sam asked, making Dean furrow his eyebrows and scrunch up his face in thought.  He tilted his head and that’s when you knew he had an idea.

What you didn’t know, however, was that this idea was going to cost you the next few hours of your life. The librarian slammed down two cardboard boxes covered in ancient dust. She groaned as she lifted them onto the table and wiped off her skirt. “Here you go, arrest records going back to 1851,” she said.

The boys nodded and thanked her for your help and you wiped off the dust that was caked on the lids of the boxes. As she walked away, you noticed Dean staring at her butt. You coughed, gaining his attention back and he cleared his throat, opening one of the boxes. “This is how you spend four good years of your life, huh?” Dean asked, referring to Sam’s college life.

“Welcome to higher education,” Sam joked as he tackled into his own box of records. After hours of digging and finding nothing, you had nearly fallen asleep in the chair next to Dean while Sam paced around the library and trying out every single reading position there was to stay awake. “Hey, check this out,” he said, getting your attention. “1862. A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. He was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes.” You got up out of your chair and walked around the shelf that Sam was standing over. “Some of the deceased were found in their beds, sheets soaked with blood. Another suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.”

Dean picked up a piece of paper from the record that Sam was looking at. “Get this - the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident, had it replaced with a silver hook.” You were reading over Sam’s shoulder at the rest of the report and spotted the location of the murders.

“Look where all of this happened,” you said, pointing to the words printed on paper.

“9-mile road,” Dean read. You nodded and Sam scoffed, shaking his head as if this was all just a wild coincidence.

“Same place where the frat boy was killed.” Dean smiled and nodded, content with the information and most likely relieved that the search for information was finally over.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkman,” Dean said, smirking at his brother. “Let’s check it out.” Sam smiled and closed up the files as you began to clean up the ones you and Dean had sprawled across the table. You had to remind both the boys multiple times to make sure they were going in order for any future users, but they swatted you away and threw them in a mess anyway.

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