#you wouldn't think this would be a post to hunt over but i checked four different books on this one

[kariachi]

Sometimes one remembers that the most common ancestral race of hobbits is described by Tolkien as "browner of skin" then the less common two (who might have been mostly outbred over the many years? on the topic of the "fairer of skin and also of hair" set Concerning Hobbits describes that "the strong Fallohidish strain could still be noted among the greater families, such as the Took and the Masters of Buckland", which to me implies that while there's still clear ancestry there they probably still have heavy Harfoot or even Stoor influence going on- otherwise why describe it as a 'strong strain' rather than just say they're still primarily Fallohidish families? especially when you consider that the section in question is discussing that they were particularly bold and adventurous for hobbits and so given what the Tooks and Brandybucks are like it may be more often a matter of inclination rather than visuals- not to doubt that the visuals show up, but probably not as often as inclination, especially if you allow for the secrecy-focused courting habits mentioned in the first draft of the first chapter of LotR (as published in The Return of the Shadow: The History of Lord of the Rings Part 1, by Christopher Tolkien, pg 17, yes I did go hunting), which would make marriages between differing groups so much more accessible (and may actually be why that's a thing)), that their curly hair is consistently pointed out, and that our initial description of hobbits given in The Hobbit specifically mentions "nimble brown fingers".

And then one gets aggravated all over again at how long it took for non-white hobbits to show up in adaptations and the sheer number of people over the years who have tried to make out like non-white hobbits would be such a horrible canon-breaking thing.

[rottenaero]

AO3

Part 1

Part 4

Part 6

Part 5 of the roommates idea

Okay okay, so before this starts, a lot of people have mentioned me posting this on ao3, and my question is if you guys mean it as it is, or if I should make two or three new parts to make up for the first part.

Because in the first part, we miss a lot of possible moments between Steve and Eddie since it skips to the basic idea.

This whole thing was meant to be a messy and quick way to get my ideas out, but then people ended up actually liking it, and well, I just want you guys to like the outcome.

Basically, I wanna know if I should;

A.Post it on ao3 as is

B. Post it on ao3 with two to maybe four parts instead of the original post, and have me do part six after I make those. (I'm a decently quick writer when I'm motivated, all these parts so far have been within a day or two)

C. Make the parts instead of the original post, and have this be a big one-shot on ao3(meaning it wouldn't be posted on there until this is finished)

I am really leaning towards B, just cause I wanna do those interactions (one of which would be Eddie coming out to Steve), but I wanna see what you guys think first.

This whole thing is kinda a wreck cause I don't usually post fics on Tumblr but hopefully it will get better with time.

After Dustin explains the upside down, and Eddie talks about what really happened, they come to a sort of agreement.

Eddie was to stay at the boathouse, and someone would occasionally come over with a supply of drinks and food.

Steve, of course, despised this, because Eddie is his best friend-(And who was he kidding? Goddamn crush, too)-dammit, but he let the plan go on anyway.

Before they left, Steve turned to Eddie, brows pinched together.

“Stay safe, alright? If you get hurt because you do something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Eddie laughed, loud and full, “Kinda counterproductive, aye sweetheart?”

He stopped when Steve didn’t laugh or make a joke back. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll walkie if things go to shit.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a little peck on the corner of his lips, “Don’t die, man. Can’t take care of these little shits by myself.”

He turned to face Max, and a gaping Dustin and Robin.

“Lets go, nerds”

-

Steve stared at the ground, unblinking.

One of his kids were gonna die.

Eddie had had apparently left the boathouse

Eddie was being hunted.

Two more students have been murdered.

He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked up to watch Powell talk about the town hall meeting.

They were royally fucked.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler? Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he turned around in time to see Dustin snatch the walkie.

“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?”

The walkie took a second to crackle back to life.

“Nah man, pretty uh, pretty goddamn far from okay.”

“Where is he?”Nancy asked, already halfway back into the car.

“Where are you?”

“Skull Rock, Steve knows it.”

Steve smiled, grabbing the walkie and clicking down on the button, “Hold on tight, Ed-stefer, we’re on our way.” He tossed it back to Dustin before turning to Nancy.

“I’m driving.”

She scrunched her nose, but didn’t question it and swapped to the passenger's side.

-

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re leading us the wrong way.”

“It’s North, I’m positive! I checked the map.”

Steve sighed and pinched his nose, “This is literally Eddie and I’s spot, we come here all the time.”

“That doesn’t have to do with it being a make-out spot, does it?” Lucas asked hesitantly from his spot in the back.

“Jesus, no Sinclair, this does not have to do with- Eddie and I are just friends.”

Robin scoffed, “Didn’t you kiss him earlier?” She asked.

“As friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”

“Right, but you like him like that, though?”

“Oh wow, suddenly we’re here, y’know, at the place you said we weren’t gonna end up at?” Steve yelped, gesturing broadly at the rocks around him.

Lucas has to physically bite his lip to keep from mentioning that he had absolutely picked that up from Eddie, or that Eddie had picked it up from him.

“See? You little butthead, I was right.”

Theres a rustle of leaves and then,

“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

Steve turned to face the man and almost collapsed in relief, hes not hurt.

“Jesus Eddie, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin sighed, as he made his way past Steve to hug Eddie.

“Yeah, me too man. Me too.”

The hug goes on for maybe ten seconds before Eddie’s pulling back and bringing Steve into a side one, you know, like some kind of dad. “I tried calling you guys, but uh…”

His face turned sheepish and he stepped back a bit to grab some water from a canister. “My walkie was busted, man.”

“Drenched.” He adds in after a second, laughing a bit.

He took another sip from the bottle before wiping and extra drops away from his mouth. “So, uh, I did the thing that I do now apparently. I ran.” He let out another laugh, this one was a little bit more self-deprecating.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack.”

Eddie perked up, and grabbed at his wrist, “ Yeah, no, I um, know exactly what time it was.”

He held up a watch, the dials on it weren’t moving. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

“9:27…”

“Same times our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin says, and her eyes light up like she connected the dots.

Steve hadn’t, “Which means what exactly?”

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”

Steve half-zoned out, silently going through the events in his head, while maintaining conversation.

“Skull Rock was North.”

“An electromagnetic field.”

“What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Steve tuned back in, a hundred percent now. He turned to look at Eddie, who was still crouching, and damn how did his back not hurt?

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Steve perked up, he kind of knew this one, “-which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”

And Steve nodded along, because yeah, this was a terrible idea.

“But uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning, so Mordor it is.”

He whistled at Eddie when everyone got up, and he was by Steve’s side in seconds.

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Cause you don’t look it but…”He trailed off, and Eddie grinned.

“I am all-good Steve-O.” Steve nodded, “Good, good.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from right next to him, “Were you, perhaps, worried?!” Steve kicked a rock instead of answering.

It just made Eddie’s grin widen further.

“You totally were! Stevie Harrington, The-Former-King-Of-Hawkins turned sweetheart, worrying over lil-ol-Eddie-The-Freak-Munson!”

Steve scoffed, “ First off, I’d like to think I’ve always been a sweetheart, second off, keep it in your pants, dude.”

Eddie cackled, leaning into his side, “Yeah, yeah! You’re right. You’ve kinda been like that for the past two years, Mr.Eddie-Cant-Carry-A-Fucking-Hot-Pan-Anymore.” He laughed, ignoring the second part of Steve’s statement.

He huffed, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Eddie booped his nose, “Yeah yeah, you’re just you like that.”

Tag List

@bxlthazar@i-have-three-feelings@leverage-ot3@mightbeasleep@badcaseofcasey@joruni@original-cypher@aceflavouredyougurt@flustratedcas@lovelylilbadone@labels-are-for-the-weak@steddieassheg0es@gregre369

[reverieblondie]

Neighbors

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Burglary and knife being held to readers throat.

Summary: First day at work and your trying to keep a positive mindset despite your irritating neighbor messing with you. Whatever you just have to ignore it and keep going!

A/N: Sorry I've been behind on posting, I got sick with the flu for a week and that has made me behind. But I have four fics in the works currently! I am enjoying writing this series its a good pallet cleanser and has been helping me get all my cheesy rivalry romance ideas out. Hope your enjoying it! If you have a request please drop it in my inbox! I love getting ideas and interacting with all of you! If you want to be tagged for this series or anything else please leave a comment asking! Thank you so much for your support!

Word Count: 3,751

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Cockroaches….that damn neighbor must have just been messing with you…

Exhausted, your neighbor's little comment had compelled you to spend the rest of the night checking every surface where a cockroach could be hidden, only to be met with nothing. Maybe he had done it just to stress you out, what a jerk…whatever, just avoid him, that should be easy. 

Though you can’t get too wrapped in thinking of your smartass neighbor right now, you need to focus on getting ready for work. The job you managed to land was at a bar in the neighborhood with an owner who seemed nice and paid decently; though you were still on the hunt for a second job, New York is an expensive place to live and your scholarship can only help you so much. 

Being a bartender was easy for you, it was one of the first jobs you got when you started going to school, plus there were always bars near campuses. There is also the fact that for your school schedule getting to work nights worked out best for you. Bartending was fairly simple and getting your certification was easy enough, yes you had the occasional creeps at the bar but usually, it was an overall safe environment with people just trying to wind down after their long work weeks. Plus when people are tipsy they tend to tip well, perks of the trade. 

Moving to New York for a scholarship has been a whirlwind of unfamiliarity, but bartending is something you knew and were confident in. Plus maybe there would be other people around your age working there, your shot at a friendship with the neighbors wasn’t going well but maybe you could be friends with your coworkers. 

Finished getting ready, you gather your bag and give yourself a once over. The outfit looks nice, the hair is done right, and the makeup is nice just the way you like it. This is perfect, you feel confident, and nothing is going to mess up your night! 

Walking out of your apartment you lock your door and you hear the creaky elevator doors starting to close. Quickly you call out for someone to hold the door as you run to the elevator, and to your delight a hand catches the door before it can shut. Getting to the elevator you wear a sweet smile ready for whoever held the elevator for you but once the doors open back up your smile sinks into a bitter glare. It’s him….the spider catcher with the grumpy attitude. 

As you begrudgingly walk into the elevator you see that his face equally doesn’t look too pleased to be seeing you. A part of you wishes he wouldn't have held the door so you could skip being stuck in the cramped elevator with him, but you don’t want to risk running late on your first day. So instead you must suffer through the awkward silence that’s filling in the space between you too. 

Standing there side by side your thoughts are lamenting why this elevator had to be so slow. Trying to keep yourself appear unbothered by him, your eyes go to observe him despite your trying not to. Today he looks a bit less tired and is wearing normal clothes, not his pajamas. His hair is still fluffy but you're starting to think that’s just how he wears it. Also, his brown eyes are covered up by glasses. Danm, he’s got that whole cute nerd thing going for him huh…

As you're studying him his eyes move to you and you quickly avert your gaze feeling flustered to have gotten caught looking. Get a grip girl you can’t think he’s cute he is a rude jerk who called you dramatic, you can’t think he’s cute, absolutely not! Staring straight ahead you swear you heard him slightly snickering to himself, just being so close to him so making your blood boil. Never before has someone bothered you so much but here he is driving you mad. 

Shooting your eyes over to him you're making sure to give him a dirty look, one that says, I don’t like your jerk face. Though he’s not paying attention, opting to fiddle around with his camera instead. Looking at the camera you note that it appears to be an older model then some white lettering on the device catches your attention. 

“Peter Parker…” you whisper, as you do his head shoots over to you with a confused look on his face. Moving your head at the number of floors you still have left to go, you feel his eyes still on you. 

“It’s rude to stare,” you say irritatedly

“Yeah, I know that, do you?” 

You whip your head around facing him now, “I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading the name on the camera.” 

“I was talking about before you said my name.” 

“Well I wasn’t staring at you then either,” -your liar, you were staring…

“Yeah sure…y/n” 

Your eyes go wide at him saying your name and you look at him confused. He points down at your bag with a smug look on his face.  

“Your school ID is hanging out of your bag” 

Looking at your bag you see he was right so you quickly tuck your ID back into your bag. Well isn’t he just clever….

Folding your arms in a huff the two of you fall back into a silence. He messes with his camera once more and you stare straight ahead while irritation grows. Maybe it's the awkward silence or maybe it's your need to have the last word because you can’t help yourself from muttering to him “I didn’t see any roaches….” 

He slightly laughs “Yeah your spider friend made sure of that” 

“What?! You think I’m going to get them now?!” 

He shrugs “That’s why you should be nicer to spiders, they help us in more ways than we know” 

“Didn’t realize I was talking to a spider enthusiast….” 

“I’m not a spider enthusiast..” 

“Could have fooled me…” 

The elevator grows quiet again and it seems this time you are going to have the last word. Success. Though as you're standing there you can feel eyes on you turning to give him a dirty look again, he might start thinking that's just how you look. Peter seems completely unfazed by the look you give him as his eyes scan you up and down. As if the elevator wasn’t already cramped now having a guy looking you up and down makes the space feel downright claustrophobic. You can’t help how his eyes on your bare legs make you want to squeeze your thighs together. Is he checking you out right now? Maybe you should scold him?  

“You do know that it’s going to be cold and raining tonight right?” 

The comment takes you aback for a second, he must be referring to your chosen outfit for work tonight and your lack of an umbrella and coat. A black long-sleeve top paired with shorts and a pair of comfortable tennis shoes is perfect for having to be on your feet all night. You wear these outfits because when you show more skin as a bartender you get more tips, well at the bar you used to work at anyways that's how it worked. 

Looking over at Peter you shrug trying to come off as unfazed as possible, “the weatherman said that it wasn’t going to rain a little cold but I can handle that.'' you say matter of factly to Peter. 

“Let me guess, the weatherman from channel 12? Yeah, he’s always wrong.” furrowing your brows you look at him confused. One, how did he know what channel you were watching? Two, how was he so sure of himself? 

“Well, he’s a weatherman, are you? Unless you're telling me you're a weatherman and a spider expert” You fold your arms and look at him with your eyebrows raised inquisitively. 

Peter looks at you eyeing him and slightly giggles to himself, “No I am neither but, I just have a…sense for these sorts of things''. 

You look at him and roll your eyes. “Well I am going to go with what the weatherman says, no offense to your weather sense abilities.” for theatrics, you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers mockingly.  

This causes Peter to laugh out loud a bit “Well when you get caught in the rain and you're freezing, just know I told you so.” Peter adjusts his gaze back to the elevator staring at the warped reflections of the two of you with a sly smile on his face. 

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”

“Like you handle spiders?” 

Smartass….

Before you can give your rebuttal the elevator is stopping with a loud whine and then opening up. In a huff, you exit quickly having had enough of Peter Parker. Sure he may have one this round but next time you will for sure have the last word. 

“Can I get a whiskey on the rocks with a twist” 

Before the guy could finish his sentence you're already pouring the amber liquid over the singular ice cube in a fresh glass. The final touch is the lemon rind being rubbed onto the lip of the glass cup then dropping the rind into the glass to keep working its aromatic magic. Sliding the glass over you smile at him. Going to wash his used glass you watch through partials as he places a fair tip in the jar for your service. You will be sure to always be quick with his drink to continue to get the good tips.

As you had hoped work was going smoothly, The bar was perfect, manageable with steady business. The perfect blend of just being busy enough that you see new people and keeping the shift going by fast but slow enough that you don’t feel like you're drowning. The best part is that the new boss Gregory was a nice family man who had inherited the bar from his dad. 

Gregory and you had started small talk while he showed you the ropes, you learned he had a wife with a son and another on the way. He revealed that he liked to hire college students who needed a flexible schedule. Though, much to your chagrin you were the only college student working at the bar at the moment. The last two recently quit due to them finding different careers with their degrees, a thing you're sure to do as well when you graduate. 

Though nobody else was a college student like you, everyone you met was nice and welcoming, making you feel like you could finally get that friend circle you had been craving. Though you need to play it cool, the last thing anyone wants is to be smothered by the new girl desperate for friends. -baby steps for now. 

The bar seemed to be a great fit, everyone was nice and all the customers seemed pretty chill. Maybe your luck was starting to finally turn around, maybe this would all work out and everything would go as you hoped.

Maybe… 

Taking a deep sigh you stare at the rain as it pours down onto the darkly lit sidewalk that you need to take to get home. Looks like your luck hasn't exactly changed. Resting your head against the front of the bar you hold yourself trying to keep warm as best you could. Seems that your neighbor should think about becoming a weatherman with that accurate weather sense of his. You even checked your phone's weather app and it said the rain chances were low! 

Now it's been 30 minutes since work ended and the bar closed and that was 30 minutes of you standing underneath the bar awning alone in a shifty neighborhood. If the rain wasn’t here to hinder you could have been home by now cuddled in your warm bed. No, with how everything was going for you it only makes sense that this is the outcome of your first night at work, and you only have yourself to blame. 

Coworkers had offered to stay with you but you knew how exhausted everyone was so you decided to just tell everyone you would call a cab. However, cabs cost money, something that you do not have a large sum of. So here you are waiting, as patiently as one can in a cold night rain storm, with your apartment keys tightly weaved between your fingers due to you still not having bought pepper spray. Maybe you could make a run for it? But you're completely exhausted from your first day so the last thing you want is to go take a sprint back to your apartment, but it might be your best bet. 

As you're leaning down to tighten your laces for your run a loud crash is causing you to jump. Startled, you nearly dropped your phone and keys, looking at where the noise came from. It of course came from down an alley of the bar, a dark and creepy alley…

Now there are two things you can do, one is to leave the area for a safe spot, this is the safe and smart option due to it being late at night and you being by yourself with only keys for protection. Then there is the option of being a dutiful employee and making sure that the bar is okay and not being robbed. Taking a moment to think you bounce on the heels of your feet shifting with uncertainty. - You're going to regret this…

Phone in hand and keys in your fist, you're briskly walking down the alley with your head on a swivel as you get drenched from the rain trying to figure out where the noise came from. Damn, your need to be a good samaritan, this is how people get robbed.  

Ignoring your inner thoughts as you go further down the alley you come across a broken window from the building next to the bar. Thankfully it’s not the bar and nobody seems to be around, you sigh of relief. So what now? Do you call the police? You could do that but do you want to have to wait around for them to get here? Examining the window you figure the best scenario is to get to a safe area then call them and explain what you heard. 

Tucking your keys into your pocket you start walking out of the alley but before you can get out, a sudden hand on the back of your neck has you being shoved into the brick wall of the building's side. Letting out a sharp scream, a hand is covering your mouth and a knife is being pressed to your neck. Eyes wide you feel yourself shaking as you stare at the bloodshot eyes peeking through the ski mask. A part of you wants to fight him off but every time you slightly move the man presses against you harder making you wince from the crushing weight. “Shhh, stop moving and I will make this as painless as possible.” 

Shit, Shit… you feel yourself starting to panic at the man's words. What does he mean? Mind scrambling your eyes start to fill with tears, “Drop the bag to the ground and slide to your knees…”  

No, No, No! You want to fight, you want to push him away but you can’t muster the energy, your limbs feel like jelly. Dropping your bag from your shoulder you shut your eyes tightly as you lean further into the wall, hoping for the wall to open up and swallow you, for someone to walk by and see you. Anything…please anyone…

Then a thwip noise and suddenly all that weight on your body is suddenly off you and you're sliding to the wet ground. Keeping your eyes shut you don’t dare look as you hear what sounds like grunts and punches. Then what sounds like the drop of something and running away, curling into yourself you're just trying to be invisible, wanting to wash away with the freezing rain. Then a voice, slightly muffled, is cutting through the pour of the rain, “Hey? You okay there….miss?” 

Opening your eyes you see the masked vigilante…Spider-man. Squatted in front of you he holds your phone towards you and your bag in his other hand. White lenses watch your shivering body as you slowly nod and reach out to grab your phone. 

“Are you hurt?” his voice asks calmly as he studies you, shaking your head he hums to himself before standing up and holding his hand out towards you. 

“Good, let's get you out of this rain. You might want to carry an umbrella with you, it gets rainy this time of year.” All you can manage to do is nod absentmindedly as you take his hand as he pulls you to your feet. Staring at the red and blue-clad man as he continues to ramble about the weather this time of year, it's all honestly lost on you as you're still in shock over what happened and what could have happened. 

“I don’t have an umbrella…” is all you managed to say. Your soft words stop his rambling and even though you can’t see his face you know it's contorted into a look of pity. You're happy you can’t see behind the heroic spider's mask, being pitied like a child would only make you feel worse in this moment.  

“Well, we will have to worry about that part later, for now, let's get you home, huh? Where do you live?” 

“Crescent apartments.”  

“Okay good, that's a short swing,” you watch as he starts to stretch and roll his hips, tilting your head you give him a look and he chuckles and shrugs. “Swinging is all in the hips, scared of heights?” he holds his hand out to you once more. Shaking your head you grab his hand and he puts your bag over his head before pulling you closer in a careful embrace. 

“Just hang on tight and it's best if you keep your eyes closed, the rain might sting your eyes if you keep them open.” 

Nodding you wrap your hands around his neck and with a strong arm wrapping around you and a thwip you two are off. Heeding his advice you keep your eyes shut and head tucked into his neck. You can't ignore how even though he's wrapped in a spandex suit, he's still giving off a comforting warmth that causes you to forget all about the rain and the cold you were once feeling.  The only thing you are focused on is the sound of the wind past your ears and the rhythmic beating of his heart. It's calming…

In what feels like a quick short minute you're no longer hearing the whooshing and the cold wind is no longer nipping at your bare legs. Keeping your head buried you feel yourself get placed down on your feet as a hand gently pats your back albeit kinda awkwardly but there's a tenderness there. “We have arrived…” 

Letting go, you look up at him again, still feeling shocked by everything that happened in such a short time. Opening your mouth you try to think of anything to say as you shield your eyes from the rain, but before you can manage anything spiderman is placing his hand on your shoulder “Get inside and get warm, you might get sick.” 

Then with a flick of his wrist, he's swinging off disappearing into the hazy lights of a rainy New York. Standing there you watch with a slack-jawed expression. That was Spider-Man, you were saved by Spider-Man…you have got to start being nice to all these spiders coming into your life.

Mind still hazy from shock, you're on full autopilot as you arrive at your door going to grab your keys from your pocket. You finally look down and your blood runs cold again. You have your keys and your phone…but your bag is gone. Thumping your head against your door you let out a low groan your sure your cranky neighbor is sure to hear, but you can’t care about that now Spider-man has your bag…shit…

Pushing inside your pacing around, how do you get your bag back? Is there a way to get a hold of him? Is there an emergency number? A signal? Walking aimlessly you feel tears pricking at your eyes. Frustration is starting to get at you from what seems to be the worst night of your life. First the neighbor, then the freezing rain, getting attacked, and now your bag is gone with some mystery masked hero! That bag had all your IDs, your money, and your planner! 

Twap

Pulling from your panic you Look at your window you see your purse stuck to your window with a note attached. Carefully you approach and retrieve your bag, checking the contents you see that everything is accounted for. Then you read the note:

‘I accidentally stole your bag, my bad! Stay warm!’ with the note you see a doodle of a spider with a smiley face. The little picture makes you chuckle slightly as you scan over the words. Spider-man has nice handwriting, you would assume it would be quick and scratchy but it was actually…pretty…huh…

Reread the note and place it on your nightstand and you trug yourself into your bathroom. As you're starting the shower to warm yourself up it’s then you finally glimpse yourself in the mirror. What stares back at you is a mess, make-up is running, your hair is flat and stringy and your face is puffy from when you were fighting off tears. As you stare in the mirror, you're looking at someone you don’t even recognize… a lump in your throat builds but you try to keep yourself from breaking down. Just remember your mantra- don’t let it get you down…stay strong…this was your dream…this is a great opportunity…

This night was a mess….This whole move has been a mess…

No friends…your neighbor hates you…barely making it by and it hasn't even been a full week…you still have school to worry about, how would that end up getting messed up…

Sinking to the floor, rest your head against the wall trying to keep your tears in.  

Maybe this was all a mistake…maybe this move…was a mistake…

Tags:@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay

[bonefall]

Out of curiosity, what would a Warrior Cats human au be like?

I’ve seen many interpretations of it and the most common one seems to be set in the past with the clans having a bit of a tribe-like life style. So far these are the legible ones. I can think of.

1. They are set as tribe-like groups in the past. Evidence: their “clan” ways of life, naming ceremonies and religion. Also, hunting, group / clan importance and etc.

2. They are set as modern humans in 1900s England. Evidence: location of clans and timeline.

3. They are set in England, around the 1500s. Evidence: the extreme importance of religion, xenophobic beliefs, superiority complex, battles and the occasional attempt to force outsiders to accept their ways of life as “superior”. That and Pinestar’s crusade could be an attempt at colonialism.

My absolute favorite take on a Warrior Cats Anthro-type AU is the stuff done by FortunataFox over on Furaffinity/Twitter/DA. She's heavily inspired by Redwall (a series I have not read) and her style reminds me a lot of Don Bluth's work, particularly in Secret of NIMH.

I can't recommend checking that out enough; her work is very inspiring to all of my takes on Warrior Cats, even non-anthro types.

As a side note I also just... don't like looking at human faces very much? Nor do I like drawing them or thinking about them. So Anonnie, I gotta be honest with you, I probably would not make a "Human" AU fdgfsdgdf You're gonna get anthro from me

If I did an anthro AU, it would be soft fantasy. A couple of small magic powers, some unique animal species. It would also look a lot more like manoralism than decentralized 'tribal' societies... though I'm iffy on the idea of really calling them 'tribe-like' because the phrase gets my goat--

Lemmie comment point-by-point

Tribe-Like Society" is a phrase that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The Zulu Kingdom and the Haudenosaunee Confederacy couldn't possibly be more different from a social perspective, yet they're both described as "tribal societies" because Colonialism... ANYWAY, not trying to get too into it, it's a really vague phrase that invokes stereotypes I don't hate the word Tribe itself but there is no 'tribe-like society', you get me? Indigenous societies are just as (if not more) varied than colonial ones but they tend to get boiled down to "tribe-like society". The term inherently crunches social groups down to an aesthetic-- something I try to avoid in worldbuilding. I heavily consider the territory and how that would shape their lives, then add a very strong cultural value for land stewardship, and work outwards from there, instead of starting with 'nature connection' and working backwards. Does that make any sense?

2. 1900s England Nah, I wouldn't be fond of that one. That would mean these cats have Capitalism, and I just can't imagine the Clans existing the way they currently do if they were under that economic system... at least, not the way that I really enjoy the Clans.

I like reading stuff where the fandom draws out their cultural practices, and the bonds and politics between the cats in the social groups. It would be a very different story if it was just post-industrial England, and there were like... factories, roads, work hours, employers, and... OH GOD what the HELL would the World Wars be for Warrior Humans??

ABORT MISSION BACKSPACE BACKSPACE BACKSPACE

3. 1500s England

I think this would also be a bit too far ahead. The absolute latest time period I'd look at for inspiration is Early Medieval England (5th to 11th centuries). The Clans are four/five distinct fiefdoms without a king that unites them, a city-state at the highest possible population.

When there isn't emphasis on the different groups, it stops feeling like Warriors to me, you know?

(side note; Crusade was the closest word I could find for Oakstar's campaigns, a pointless religious war of appeasement, they aren't exactly like the actual crusades which started in the late 11th century. After all-- I just look at history as inspiration, not to copy or make 1:1 recreations)

[skazoo]

the accuracy of philosophical aphorisms.

↳ han jisung x f!reader

ok, you're tired, but you're sure those two floating, glowing, red orbs(?) are staring right at you.

length. 2.6k

genre. crack, fluff

warnings/tags. swear words, bad jokes, jump scare???, sexual innuendos

notes. first of many stray kids works bc i'm feeling really inspired lately. thanks to my best friend for beta reading as always. and thank you to that random tweet that got me started on this one

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

"Sometimes you don't even have to open your mouth to give me a headache you know?"

Jisung lets the books he was messily stacking on the shelves fall on the cart he had been pushing around the library since midnight and pokes his head from behind the wall of old scientific tomes to look at you with comically wide eyes, eyebrows dramatically furrowed and a pointer finger accusingly directed at your form, hunched over the long study table at the center of the room.

"What does that even mean!? I'm literally just looking at you, and you can't even see me!", he sounds so offended that if you didn't know him so well you would actually be tempted to say sorry.

"Do you think I can't sense those two glow-in-the-dark things trying to burn a hole in my head uh? I can’t concentrate when you stare at me like that. Are you even blinking?”

Closing the big book you were reading, you turn around on the squeaky wheeled chair and get up to go search for the second volume on the Circulatory System, passing a slightly alarmed Jisung that, at your raised voice had frantically looked around to check if anyone could have overheard your conversation.

Your next big exam is coming up, and you have put your mind to ace it, not just pass it; you're going to conquer it just like Julius Caesar did with Gaul, and you're going to collect absorb your professor's praise like a sponge.

Jisung makes his way to you with silent steps, and when he speaks from behind you, it startles you momentarily. You hiss when the book falls on your foot with a loud thud.

"Well, you should be concentrating on me anyway, so… maybe if you gave me the attention I deserve", he leans on the shelf with his hands behind his head, "you wouldn't feel threatened by my dangerous laser eyes uh?"

"Laser ey- you're such a child", you scoff as you move from behind aisle four of the medical wing, huffing as you pick the heavy manual from the highest shelf. Who is even this tall?

"I'm an immortal being and I will not tolerate this treatment from-", you stop him before he begins to ramble and gloat about how superior he is and how you should respect his seniority over you.

"Oh, shut up, you make it seem like you've been living for centuries", you get back to your study station and let yourself fall back on the chair, "when it was like two years ago. Is this what you say to your vampire chicks? That you're Dracula's cousin or something? Do they believe you?"

He opens his mouth to retort but closes it immediately, opting for a scornful expression that looks more like a pout than anything.

Bickering with him like this, at this hour, in this place, reminds you of how the two of you met.

Starting college had been easy. The hard part was finding the emotional strength not to drop out every time an exam was near, or cry in frustration when you had to put your study aside to work at the off-campus famous coffee shop and not die of starvation.

The conclusion you came to was that sleep was for the weak and you definitely didn't need it to survive. And so you started frequenting the old, candlelit university library with creaky floorboards and spider webs on the ceiling during the most ungodly hours to finally get shit done.

Thinking about being totally alone, in the middle of the night, in a building that creepily reminded you of a hunted house made you a little bit hyper-aware of your surroundings at first, but it quickly became familiar, and you stopped worrying about every irrational thought that popped into your head from time to time.

The lonely peace you had gotten used to lasted exactly a month.

Another big exam was coming up, your stress levels were astronomical, and you were rushing around the library, music blasting from your earbuds, desperately looking for that damned book that seemed to live a life on its own, switching spots every time you needed it.

As you turned the corner, with your old volume in hand, you were met with utter darkness. Like it was so dark it seemed like if you took another step forward you would be sucked in like in a black hole.

Uneasiness sparked in you as you heard a quiet shuffling coming from the abyss, and uneasiness morphed in terror when two glowing red orbs, floating in mid-air staring straight at you, menacing, appeared in the dark.

Fuck, Nietzsche was right, 'If you stare into the abyss for too long, the abyss will stare back at you'. And it will also say "fuck" if you throw a hardcover-2kilos medicine book right at his abyssal head.

You screamed and got ready to throw another book as a figure of a man slowly emerged from the shadows with his hands raised in front of his head in defeat.

"Stop, stop! Don't throw another please! I'm the librarian! I'm just the night shift librarian, I work here! Please don't hit me", the stranger shouted in pain as he got nearer and nearer.

Your heart was beating like crazy, and its sound covered the music in your ears, "Hey-hey stop right there, don't come forward, stay right there, don't- don't move!"

"I work here", he whined, still a little startled.

"I've never seen you, are you- are you new?", you gripped the book in your hands so hard, your finger lost all its color.

"I've been working here for the past year actually", he admitted reluctantly, voice just above a whisper.

Your hands fell to your side, suddenly lifeless. You gawked at him, mouth fully open. This weird, stupid, frustrating dickhead was going to make you lose it; he was going to be the scapegoat, the last straw of all the tiredness and stress you had been storing in your body.

You could feel yourself starting to hyperventilate. "What the fuck man, couldn't you have said something earlier?! I've been coming here for a month! A month and you didn't even introduce yourself?! Are you sure you're not a serial killer? Because this is real serial killer behavior, I-I would know, Binnie and I listen to a lot of podcasts and-"

Your rambling was abruptly interrupted as the strange man who, you confirmed, was not fruit of your sleep-deprivation-induced state of mind, softly took your wrist in his hand, squeezing it with a worried and somehow soft urgency.

"Hey, okay I'm sorry, I'm not gonna tell you to calm down because I sense you're going to throw another book at me if I do, but you need to breath mh? You can do that right?", his eyes held an understanding of what you were going through that made you trust him a little easier.

"Yeah, yeah-yes I can do that, I can do that, yes", you crouched down to get the book you had thrown at him to occupy your trembling hands.

"So-"

"So-", you both started saying something to get rid of the uncomfortable silence that was left after your outburst.

He looked so embarrassed you almost pitied him, with his flushed cheeks and his wide eyes. "You go first."

Closing your eyes you took one big breath. "What the hell was that?"

It was such a simple question for a much more complicated answer, and you could somehow tell that the man standing before you was seriously considering running away without giving explanations of any kind.

His hand went over his face, and it seemed like he wanted to wash away the anxiousness off his being.

"Right, fuck, okay, see I'm not gonna lie to you because I actually don't have the power to erase memories or something like that, I just turned-"

"Turned into what?", your voice just an octave too high.

"If you let me speak", now he's annoyed? The nerve.

"I was recently turned into a vampire, and what you saw back there were my eyes, they tend to do that thin when I haven't fed in a bit..."

Silence, then a giggle that you couldn't for the life of you suppress, escaped your lips and transformed into a hysterical teary laugh. "Yeah, you're a vampire and I'm Dracula's daughter", you said slightly shaking your head, starting to go back to your books, ready to call it a night and go to bed, "yeah, definitely a serial killer...", you muttered.

"Unbelievable", he scoffed loudly to make sure you could hear him, "you're literally the first person, the first human I've told about this, and you don't believe it!?"

Is he actually offended?

"What do you want me to do uh? Quiver in fear because a weird college junkie or something like that told me he's a vampire at 3 am in an old library? I'm like fucking Saint Thomas if I don't see it I don't believe-"

Before you could finish your sentence, you found yourself pinned by the shoulders on the wooden shelves, the books poking at your back.

The man's mouth had morphed into a snarl revealing two pointy white fangs that twinkled, reflecting the light of the candles.

His pupils were completely blown, and even the thin rim of the red iris that, albeit weird, made him human, disappeared getting absorbed by an ink-black spot.

Your breath faltered, and you were left alone with your stunned mind that was rushing, trying to find a rational explanation for what you had just seen. Not finding any, you unconsciously reached for his canines, and as your hands were almost touching them, the stranger whirled around to hide his face. His breaths were heavy, and in the midst of it all, you wondered if it was taboo going around touching other vampires' teeth; it most definitely was because it's weird and embarrassing but maybe there was more to it? Oh my god, what if it was something sexua-.

The man stopped your train of thought. "Aren't you scared?", it came out as a whisper but the confusion in his tone was evident; you thought the frown plastered on his face was going to be ingrained on his face forever.

"Oh I-I'm freaking out, I don't know, I think my fight or flight instinct is broken because I can't move my legs, li-like at all", you muttered back, a trembling and awkward smile slowly forming on your lips. You were probably looking like a maniac right now. Maybe you were the serial killer after all.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in. I shouldn't have told you but I-I have this thing with pride and-and Chan told me it's not rational, he told me I have to stop being so- so... stupid? But I keep- I keep...", he kept gesticulating, desperate to explain himself, to justify his behavior as if he was in front of a teacher who wanted to put him in after-school detention.

You stayed silent, still hadn't recovered entirely from the news that, guess what? Vampires, and maybe every other supernatural being present in Twilight exists and works as a night-time librarian on your University's campus. Fuck.

He's still rambling when you see a light bulb figuratively switch on above his head. "Oh my god, Chan! He has to know someone who can do it! He's older than me, like older than me, he's a werewolf but-but maybe he can help me erase your memory and put everything back as it was, he can-", he seemed excited but your brain had stopped elaborating his words when he had said 'werewolf'.

"He's a wha- look.... man", for some weird reason the thought of having this encounter removed from your memories, as weird and scary as it was, disturbed you a little.

"Jisung, I'm Jisung", he pointed at himself.

"Alright, Jisung I don't think I want to forget this", you didn't know why you felt embarrassed saying it. You looked at your shoes, twisting your hands behind your back.

He was caught off guard and sputtered a "What?" that was filled with the purest form of confusion.

"Well yeah, I like knowing things while other people are kept in the dark, and- and you seem like a cool guy, it can be useful to know a vampire sometimes no? And if you turn out to be a dick or a psychopath I would know how to kill you, right? With a stake to the heart. Right?"

"Wha- you would kill me if I was being a dick to you?", a small smile was slowly growing on his objectively handsome face. His eyes, now back to normal, twinkled with light humor.

"Like, if you were being a real dick, then yes, without hesitation", you raised your chin to make it look more serious but your eyes were smiling. Was your first college friend after Changbin going to be a vampire? How cool would that be uh?

The man- Jisung cleared his throat and extended his hand for you to shake it. "Just know that if you go around telling people I'm a vampire I'm gonna gaslight you first and then suck you dry", now a full and objectively handsome smile graced his lips.

You shook his hand, looking straight into his eyes, "Uhu kinkyy, is that a promise?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"I'm Y/N by the way, I'm studying medicine"

"Y/N uh?"

"Y/N. Y/N, baby are you there?", a hand touches your hip and you're back in the present.

Jisung threads his fingers in the loops of your jeans and brings you closer, bodies completely touching. You can smell the faint fragrance of his coconut shampoo and see your image reflected in his dark red eyes.

"I'm alright Ji", he kisses you on the nose, "was just reminiscing our past"

He kisses over your right eye, "Our lore you mean"

You scoff, "Stop being stupid and remember that I know how to kill you"

"And I wouldn't want it any other way oh, my Buffy the Vampire Slayer", he kisses your left eye.

Jisung tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Do you want to go home baby?", he whispers.

"I can't Ji, I have to finish studying, and you're distracting me", you pout.

You're so tired you think if Jisung wasn't hugging you you would drop to the floor and start sleeping there, but the Circulatory System is still waiting for you on the table with your neon green highlighter and a long-forgotten cinnamon tea.

"But you're exhausted and I'm not gonna carry you home if you fall asleep here you understand?", he says with an almost serious expression, "I'm serious angel, dead serious."

As soon as those words leave his mouth you punch his shoulders because of course it's another vampire joke.

He laughs like a child and wheezes, "Ow- my god I'm so funny"

As he sees you gather your books and leave for the exit he hurries to blow out the candles and shouts after you, "Y/N wait, baby, you know you're my only chick right?! I still love you even if you're not a superior being like me!"

"Fuck you, asshole!", you shout back.

[stardustedknuckles]

I second the anon saying "EVERYTHING Beauyasha", because look, why would I suggest anything else, but on the other hand I looked at 11 and immediately thought Big Shit Yasha & Fjord would be so funny with that.

Okay I had a Yasha and Fjord and a Beau and Fjord, and I think I got one of those combinations asked twice. Fucking hilarious energy yes thank you. "I'm not wearing underwear. Thought you might like to know."

More than 1k, set a few months post-canon, rated T. Fluff and humor.

The sun was still high in the sky when Yasha returned home with sweat and river water cooling on her skin and the spoils of her hunt slung over her back. Autumn meant bright, warm afternoons and cool shade, and afternoon meant that time with their friends was only hours away.

Yasha hung the meat in the shaded little alcove of their home and stepped gratefully inside. There was fresh kindling unlit in the hearth, four empty mugs set out on the round table, and though they hadn't managed to gather enough possessions yet to threaten any real clutter it was clear the place had been scrubbed within an inch of its life. Beau, she surmised, was even more excited to see Fjord and Jester than she'd let on. A rustle came from their bedroom, and Yasha smiled to herself as she slipped her boots off before moving further down the hall.

The last time Yasha had opened a closed guest room door in this house, she had accidentally discovered her girlfriend in the middle of painstakingly painting a birthday gift for her - and while Yasha had been delighted, there was no mistaking the disappointment Beau had felt in having the surprise ruined. Not that she'd stayed disappointed for long. Yasha had made certain of it. Several times.

"I'm home, baby." Yasha leaned against the wall and checked out her hands and her nails blithely. Cleaner than the rest of her, by design. "We've got a few hours before everyone gets here too, because I am very good at hunting. And very horny."

She heard a decidedly muted thump from inside and grinned. "I'm also not wearing any underwear. I know that's normal for me, but I thought you'd like to know."

Another rustle, then silence. If it were the door their room, she would have just pushed it open. It wouldn't be the first time Beau had left herself in a predicament for Yasha to come home to. But as far as Beau had known, Yasha wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. She was creative, but she knew a deadline when she saw one. No way she would have risked cutting it close to time. "Baby?"

She heard sound coming from the porch and paused with a hand prepared to knock as the front door opened to admit one bright-eyed Beau and - unexpected in another direction - a cheerful Jester with an arm load of what looked like pastries.

"Yasha!" She dropped the bag and sprinted forward, throwing herself into Yasha's arms with wild abandon and temporarily driving all of her confusion to a back corner.

"Jester, hello! You're early!"

"So are you," Beau pointed out. She stood on tiptoe to kiss Yasha's cheek above Jester's horns. "They got in a little after you left to hunt. We figured it would be a surprise." She tilted her head towards the closed door. "Me and Jester went to get a few more things and left Fjord to sleep in some. You haven't been terrorizing him, have you?"

Several things clicked into place at once, but before Yasha could say anything the door flung open to reveal one disheveled and frowning half-orc in a loose shirt and the pair of pants he had evidently just thrown on.

"Yasha," he said, a polite iceberg.

Yasha spent half a second looking for embarrassment but found only the giddy urge to laugh. "Fjord," she managed. "Did you sleep well?"

Beau was looking between the two of them with an expression of rapid comprehension, a grin spreading over her that only widened when she finally caught Fjord's eye and positively leered. "You uh. Get a warmer welcome than you expected?"

Fjord sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Actually that was pretty much exactly what I expected when you gave me the guest room." He made an exaggerated face and mimicked what Yasha presumed Beau had said earlier. "'Don't worry, Yasha's out til sunset.'" He settled again into quiet resignation. "And if you're wondering, Yasha's apparently not wearing any underwear."

Beau's delighted grin shifted to Yasha, and now she was flushing a little but she just shrugged and looked a little over Beau's head. "I mean, that's nothing unusual, really. Anyone could have guessed that."

"Holy shit," Beau wheezed. "This is the best day of my life. Hang on, just - I need a minute."

Yasha saw Fjord look to Jester, but it was no use. She melted into giggles immediately and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "So do you need some more sleep?"

"No. Nope." Fjord yawned and shuffled out of the room arm in arm with Jester, patting Yasha on the shoulder and moving Beau out of the way with his knee. "Damndest thing, but I don't feel tired anymore. Need any help getting that meat going, oh mighty hunter?"

"No," said Yasha, "but you can help if you like. I was going to get the outside fire going and take a shower, so..."

"Oh, you were going to do more than that," Fjord said drily. "I'll start the fire, you get in the shower, we all forget about this by dinnertime."

Beau wiped her eyes and stood up straight to look at Yasha, snickering with the aftershocks. "Think our window passed before it ever came, sorry babe."

"I think I disagree," said Yasha primly, "but it's fine. I'll be out in a little while."

Beau raised up on tiptoe to kiss her quickly on the lips, and only when the front door opened did she snake a hand around to tweak lightly at Yasha's ass. "I love when you get like this after a hunt," she murmured. "Just in case you were wondering."

Yasha wasn't but she just smiled and kissed Beau's forehead before peeling off and heading towards the washroom. "There are always more things to kill," she noted over her shoulder.

"Yup," Beau called back. "And you know how I feel about little deaths."

[fire-or-clear]

"Rings on or off, baby?"

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

summary ~ riding with the winchesters isn't exactly a walk in the park, but you wouldn't give it up for anything, especially now that you've got john wrapped around your finger.

pairing ~ John Winchester x reader

warnings ~ significant age gap, very slight daddy kink, a bit suggestive, talk of weaponry and hunting

rating ~ T

this isn't much, just me trying to get back into writing using a prompt i saw a long time ago. it's been an age, and even when i wrote a whole lot more, i've only ever posted like two things on tumblr, so i really have no idea what i'm doing lol. please let me know what you think, and if the rating or warnings need to be changed(:

You take John’s hand as he helps you climb down from his truck, and you absently note the feeling of cold metal against your fingers. You hide a small smile at the reminder of this morning.

You and John wake up like you usually do, wrapped around each other. The sheets are bunched up at the foot of the bed, like normal. He always gets hot in the middle of the night, whereas you’re always cold, but having John’s overly warm body pressed against yours, head to toe, usually does the trick to keep you warm.

John presses a sleepy kiss to your lips, and the two of you get distracted for a few minutes, before John forces himself to climb out of bed with a groan. You chuckle and watch as he ambles into the bathroom to shower, and then you roll over and get comfortable in the warm spot he left behind. Perks of taking night showers, you get to sleep in while John wakes himself up with his morning showers.

You doze off, and you don’t know how long it’s been before you feel fingertips drag lightly down your spine. You hum sleepily and turn your head to face John. He’s crouched down beside the bed in just jeans, with a small smile on his face.

“Time to get up, baby.” He informs you. You pout and bury your face in the pillow. john chuckles and you hear him moving around, and you look up in time to see him tug a t shirt over his head. You watch as he pulls his usual jacket on, and you finally climb out of bed as he sits down on the edge to put on his boots. You walk over to your bag and pull on a pair of panties, and then you hunt around the room for your bra, which always disappears when John is the one to take it off of you. You find it draped over a chair, and you pull it on as well, and then you return to your bag and grab a pair of jeans. You tug them on, and then you grab the shirt John was wearing yesterday and tug that on as well. John smirks and pulls you down into his lap as you pass by. You wrap an arm around his neck and press a kiss to his jaw. He tangles his fingers in the shirt.

“You don’t have a clean one to wear?” He asks, and you roll your eyes.

“Of course I do. But why would I do that when I could wear your shirt and smell like you all day?” You drawl. John presses a kiss to your throat, and you shiver as his stubble scrapes your skin.

“Now why would you want that?” He wonders.

“Cause I love the way you smell. Your cologne, your favorite whiskey, wood smoke, and something that’s just.. You. Makes me feel safe. It also makes me want the real thing.” You murmur, before tugging him into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you slide a hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair as he nips at your lower lip. You two get distracted, again, but this time you’re the one to pull away.

“Hmm, we got work to do. You gonna let me up?” You ask, looking down into his eyes. He smirks at you.

“You gonna ask nicely?” He retorts. You give him a shy little smile and lean in so your lips are brushing the edge of his ear.

“Please, Daddy.” You murmur sweetly. John groans and loosens his grip on your waist, and you climb off his lap. He smacks your ass when you turn to walk away, and you give a surprised yelp.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you just wait, sweetheart.” He drawls. You give him a wink as you sit down on the coffee table to tug on socks and your boots.

“Whaddaya think, rings or no rings today?” He asks, and you look up and see him turning one of them between his fingers. You finish lacing up you boots, and then walk over to where he’s standing. You grab your three favorite rings and slide them onto the correct fingers, pressing a kiss to each one.

“Rings. They look good on you, and I like the way they sound against your gun.” You answer. John chuckles and cups your cheek, tracing your lower lip with his thumb.

“Is that right? What makes you think I’ll be using a gun today?” He asks. You give him a little smirk.

“We’re in Texas, darlin’. You’re in my world now, and I’m telling you, you’ll find a use for that gun today, one way or another.” You answer, pressing a kiss to his thumb. He smiles and shakes his head.

“I’ll take your word for it. You wanna load the truck, or wake the boys?” He asks.

“I’ll take the boys, far be it from me to stop you from lifting heavy things where I can see.” You answer with a grin. John rolls his eyes.

“I’ll take you to the gym next time I go, then you can look all you want.” He retorts. You scoff.

“I like the gym, darlin, you’re the one who can’t be assed to set foot in one.” You remind him as you pull away and tug your jacket on.

“Why would I, I get enough of a workout while I hunt.” John grumbles. You laugh and shake your head.

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you in a minute.” You tell him. He gives you a quick kiss, and then you head next door. You have a key, so you give the door a warning knock, and then you unlock it and step into the room Sam and Dean are sharing. You hear the shower running, and note that Sam must be awake. Dean, however, is still in bed, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. You head over and sit on the edge, pulling the blankets back a little and then pressing your ice cold fingertips to Dean’s bare back. He flinches and groans into his pillow.

“‘Go ‘way.” He mumbles. You laugh.

“Not gonna happen. Cmon, John is loading the truck and Sam is in the shower. We’re waiting on you, pretty boy.” You hum. Dean turns his head towards you with a sleepy glare.

“Not a pretty boy. Sam’s the pretty one.” He huffs. You press your lips together to keep from laughing.

“Sure darlin. Now get up, or I’m telling Sam that you said he can drive the impala today.” You reply. Dean’s glare intensifies, and then he sits up with a groan. The blankets pool at his waist, and he quickly grabs them and yanks them up to his neck.

“Why is it so cold in here?” He asks. You shrug.

“No idea. Did you mess with the thermostat last night?” You ask. Dean shakes his head.

“Sammy, did you turn down the temperature last night?” Dean says, and you turn and see Sam exit the bathroom. Thankfully he’s already dressed, otherwise he’d be blushing right now. You, Dean and John don’t give a shit how dressed or undressed you are around each other, Dean cause he’s just laidback that way, John because these are his sons and you're his lover, and yourself because you were in the army and it’s just skin. That’s not to say you'd like to be completely naked in front of your lovers sons, but if you're just wearing a towel, or if they catch you in a sports bra and spandex, you don’t really give a shit.

“No, I think it’s broken. I tried to adjust it before I showered, but it didn’t work.” Sam answers, rubbing through his hair with a towel. Dean starts cursing, and continues to curse as he jumps out of bed and stumbles over to his bag, yanking on clothes as quick as he can. You chuckle and turn to Sam.

“The impala already packed?” You ask. Sam nods.

“Yeah, I threw our bags in there before my shower. You and dad all set?” He asks, and you're silently thankful that it’s not weird for him to say that anymore. You get it though, you knew Sam and Dean before you knew John, and then there’s the fact that you and Sam are the same age and Dean is only 4 years older than you, and here you are, sleeping with their dad. So you get how it’s a little weird.

“Should be, he’s packing the truck now.” You answer. Sam nods and sits down to put on his shoes, and Dean does as well.

“Let us know when you’re ready to hit the road.” You tell them before you step outside the motel room. You pull your pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket and slide one out, along with the lighter in your jeans pocket. You light up and take a long drag, and lean against the wall. You turn and watch as John checks his weapons cache in the truck. Then you walk over and open the passenger door, and climb up and reach behind the bench seat. You grab your holsters and start strapping them on. You shrug off your jacket so you can pull on your shoulder holster that holds four daggers, and then pull your jacket on over it. Next, you tug your pant leg up and tuck two knives each into the compartments on the insides of your boots. You strap a hunting knife to your hip, and then climb down and walk around the truck to stand beside John. You flick the ash off the end of your cigarette, and watch as John straps on his preferred assortment of weapons, including, you note with a grin, his gun, hidden beneath his shirt and jacket at the small of his back. He catches you grinning, and he scoffs. He reaches out and pulls you close.

“It’s just in case.” He says. You nod.

“I know. You’ll need it.” You tell him matter of factly. He rolls his eyes and plucks the cigarette from your lips. And proceeds to take a puff and then drops the cigarette and stubs it out with his boot. You pout up at him.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You complain. He chuckles.

“Those aren’t very good for you.” He retorts, exhaling the smoke. You scoff.

“Well I know they aren’t very good for me, but darlin’, I’m not very good for me.” You reply. He chuckles and leans in close.

“No, but you leave that to me. I ever been bad to you?” He drawls. You bite your lip and tilt your head.

“Only when I ask for it.” You murmur. He chuckles lowly.

“What can I say. Sometimes you deserve it.” He tells you, lips brushing against your temple. You flush and bury your face in his chest, and he wraps his arms tight around you.

“Look at you, going all shy on me. Gonna have to get a room away from the boys tonight. I’m gonna make you scream.” He informs you. You glance up at him and see how dark his eyes are, and lick your lips.

“You promise?” You ask innocently.

“Yeah baby. I promise.” He rumbles, sliding a hand beneath your shirt and running it up and down your spine. You shiver as the cold metal of his rings grazes your skin.

“You alright?” You hear, and you look up and see that Sam and Dean are standing with you and John next to the truck. John and Sam are looking over something on the hood of the truck, and Dean is right beside you. You smile and nod at him.

“I’m fine. Just a little scatterbrained is all.” You tell him. He nods.

"You ready to show us how to hunt, the Texas way?" He asks. You chuckle.

"Sure, D. But are you ready, is the real question." You retort. He scoffs.

"How hard could it be." He grumbles, and you laugh and get ready for another day with your boys.

[cierrabiscuits]

Koutaro Bokuto x Fem Reader: Eligible Bachelor

 Summary: Some of the MSBY team are scheduled at a charity event and are auctioned off for dates, you being the manager go with them. The team is well aware of your crush on Bokuto and put a plan in motion. What’s the worst that can happen. 

 Words: 5.1K

 Warnings: Angst if squint, happy ending, MSBY 4 being sold as dates for Charity.

 Authors Note: Hello! This is my first time posting a fic so go easy on me, I hope you all enjoy it and get a good laugh out of it like I did! This is part of a collab with @ambershaydeoffical! Please support all the talented writes who participated. 

Update: I made a route for Sakusa! Find that here

Update: I made a route for Atsumu! Finda that here

Story

“Alrighty boys are you ready to go on in?” You said staring at the four well dressed men  behind you.

 “No, and I want to go home.” Sakusa adjusted his black facemask. He wasn’t keen on coming to this event whatsoever.

 “Sakusa I know, but I really need you! Besides what would you be doing anyway? It's Valentine's day and you're as single as single gets. Live a little. Maybe you will find your Mrs.Clean tonight! Ya never know!” You said as he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

 “Omi-Omi don't be that way. Our lovely manager here worked hard to get us this opportunity, and it's benefiting a charity you scrooge.” Atsumu smacked Sakusa’s back.”I think your just upset because you know all the ladies are going to bid on me.” The blond setter smirked at the very pissed Sakusa who just glared at him.

 “NOoO It's going to be me who gets all the bids. I still have my tan from Brazil and I’m alot cooler than all of you.” Hinata piped up, proudly adjusting his tie that had little volleyballs on it. 

 “Well if we don’t get our asses in that building, aint none of y’all getting any bids, besides I’m freezing to death,” You said rubbing your arms. The dress you wore done little to protect you from the cold night. 

 “Take this please, I don’t want to freeze to death. I like you warm and alive.” Bokuto, who's been oddly quiet, spoke up wrapping his grey tux jacket around your shoulders leaving him in his blue button up. You could smell his cologne on the jacket, you could drown in this and wouldn't complain. Your cheeks ran hot and you managed to let out a “thank you” through chattering teeth.

 “Okay let’s get going.” You said wrapping the jacket tighter around you as the boys followed you like baby ducks. Bokuto walked up beside you while the two boys bickered over who would have the most bids in the back, Sakusa wanted no part in it and stayed to himself. You look at Bokuto  who seemed nervous. You decided to hype him up a bit before he went into emo mode. “Bokuto you are going to have some gorgeous high profile women coming after you tonight, I’m jealous of them.” You didn't lie, you had the biggest crush on Bo, ever since you took the job as the MSBY manager. You never have a frown on your face next to him- until now. You knew he’d have a woman, that's not you, by his side tonight. You’d bid on him until your bank went in the negative but you don’t get paid like the women at this event do.

 “You wait and see, I’ll have the most beautiful one by time the night is out.” Bokuto said, smiling at you. You felt a pang of sadness creep on you, if he only knew. 

 The warm air of the ballroom felt nice against your cool body. You gave Bokuto his jacket back, you secretly wished you could keep it forever. You took in your surroundings, the ball room was filled with women in designer dresses and you could see the small stage in the middle of the room. 

 “Guys I have to find the event coordinator and see what time you guys need to get on stage. Please be on your best behavior, there are cameras everywhere. Atsumu keep the drinking to a minimum, Shoyo for the love of God go to the bathroom now, Omi keep these fools in line and you better be nice to people and last but never the least Bokuto, If you dance please be careful, I don’t want to take you to the ER again because you hit the Cha cha slide too hard. And with that I’m out. I’m counting on you guys.” You said giving them a thumbs up as you got lost into the sea of people to hunt the event coordinator. 

~

 “Thank you so much Y/N! Everyone is looking forward to the auction. We have some models and a couple pop stars who will be in the line up as well as a few volunteers . I want your boys to go at the end, as they say ‘always save the best for last’.” The coordinator spoke over the bustling crowd. She went over the rules and where they needed to go and what time to line up. You soaked in all the information the bubbly coordinator was giving you. “I have to go let the rest of the people know the game plan. Please have your guys here and lined up in half an hour. Thank you again!” And with that she disappeared into the crowd. Now here came the hard part.

You scanned the large ballroom to find your heathens. Sakusa would be the easiest to find because he is most likely on one of the four corners in the building. Hinata was most likely with Bokuto, and Atsumu was a wild card, he could be at the bar, maybe even on the dance floor trying to impress girls with his dance moves(That suck by the way). You recall the time you found him passed out in a bush drunk off ass at a gala last year. You make up a game plan, you would get Bo and Hinata first, then find a hopefully sober Tsumu and lastly get Sakusa (you figured it best not to drag him around the ballroom) You spot Bokuto’s tall figure next to a snack bar, and as you figured Hinata was with him. They were both stuffing their mouths with meat kebabs and other foods like wild animals, they sure love to eat you thought. 

 “Bokuto,Hinata, they are getting ready to line everyone up, wait for me over there.” You said pointing towards an area that was not  too terribly crowded.

 “HEY HEY HEY Y/N try one of these things, they are so freakin good.” He shoved a cake pop in front of your face. You took it from the gray haired boy.

 “Thank you Bo, but we really need to go.” You took a bite from the cake pop. “Wow that is really good.” You said finishing it in one bite. You heard some snickers from a group of girls, they made a smug comment about you eating it all at once. You normally would throw hands but you had an image to uphold. You shouldn't let it bother you but it did.

 “Hey don’t let that bother you, besides I like a girl that can eat.” Bokuto said, patting your head. He is literally the human version of sunshine. 

 “Thanks Bo. But really we need to get the move on, I still have to hunt Tsumu down. Can you and Hinata wait for me over there.” You said pointing to the area again.

 “Roger that.” They said unison. 

  “I’ll be right back.” You said going back into the crowd. You checked the dancefloor first and he wasn't there(You were relieved he was not.). You made your way to the bar and found him surrounded by women who were mesmerized by his thick accent. You waved him down and he nodded and turned his attention back to the group he had attracted.

 “It looks like It's time fer’ me to go, make sure you all bid for me. I’ll be a waitin’” He said getting up and following you. The women he had been entertaining giggled as he walked away.

 “Look at you being a player. I didn’t expect that from a man who yells at girls when they cheer for him.” You leaned into him so he could hear you over the crowd.

 “I’m just tryin’ to raise some money, it's strictly business. My heart belongs to volleyball for the most part.”He said winking at you. He truly is just a fool in love with the sport. 

You led Atsumu to the group and went to retrieve poor  Sakusa. You looked around for a few minutes and felt a tug at the back of your shirt. You turn around and see Sakusa towering over you. 

 “This is new, I’m used to finding you sulking in a corner.” You said staring into his black eyes. 

 “I watched you gather everyone up, I figured I would come on over to make it easier for you.” He began to walk towards the rest of the group.

 “I guess being 6’4 has its perks huh Omi? You're like a watchtower.” You said looking up at the tall spiker.

 “Yeah, guess so.”He said playing with one of his dark curls.

~~

 “Okay we have everyone, so you guys are going last, I’ll leave who goes first to you guys. Now let's go get lined up.” You lead them to the stage and let them line up. Atsumu insisted on going first, Hinata would go after him, then Sakusa and lastly Bokuto. 

 “You owe me some umeboshi after this.” Sakusa said, taking his mask off and putting it in the pocket of his tux.

 “Sure thing. I'll even throw in a thing of nice smelling hand sanitizer for the trouble.” You crossed your arms and smirked at him.

 “I’ll hold you to that.” He said, filing behind Hinata.

 You looked at Bokuto who appeared to be a nervous wreck. He had a small layer of sweat on his forehead and his hands were shaking slightly. “Hey it's going to be okay, I’ll be right here.” You said pulling out your handkerchief and dabbing the sweat off his forehead. “You're amazing and dare I say you're the best looking one.” You said making him blush.

 “Ummm HEY.” Atsumu said glaring at you, obviously butt hurt from your comment. Sakusa was unamused and took it upon himself to kick Atsumu. That gave you the opportunity to turn your attention back to the nervous male beside you. Before you could comfort him the loud speaker cut you off.

 “Ladies and gentleman, would you please give your attention to the center stage, the date auction will begin momentarily.” The coordinator announced causing everyone to tense up a bit.

 “Come on guys loosen up a bit, I’m going to be in the front taking pictures for our instagram page. So show off a little! Show them you are proud to be a part of such an awesome volleyball team!” You hyped them up one last team. “With that being said I want a group picture so bring it in guys.” You said pulling the camera and ushering the athletes into the frame. “Say cheese.” Atsumu wrapped his arm around Sakusa who didn’t have the chance to push him off, Bokuto gave Hinata bunny ears. It was a chaotic photo, but It caught their true essence. 

 “I want a picture with you before you go Y/N. Pleaseee.” Bokuto gave you puppy dogs eyes and you couldn't deny him.

 “Sure Bo. Atsumu here.” You handed him the camera and got beside Bokuto. He wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close to him. You could feel his muscles through the tux that fit just a little too good. 

 “Aww you look like a cute couple.” Atsumu teased as he brought the camera up to snap a picture. You couldn't make a comeback as embarrassment washed over you. You looked up at Bokuto who had a blush adorning his handsome face.

 “Y/N I’m going to do something, don’t get mad.” Bokuto said, picking you up bridal style before you could even protest.

 “That’s what I’m talking about!” Atsumu said, snapping more pictures. 

 “Bokuto put me down, I'm heavy!” You shriked  gripping onto his tux.

 “No you're not. I could carry you around all night like this if you wanted me to!” He smiled down at you! You felt your face light up like a Christmas tree. No matter how big or small you were, Bokuto always made you feel like a princess. 

 “As much as I’d love you to, we gotta get this ball rolling.” You said as he gently placed you back on your feet. “I’ll be taking that.” You said snatching the camera from Atsumu who was smirking. He seemed to be hiding something from the way he was acting. He is definitely sus you thought. You waved the boys goodbye and made you way to the front of the crowd. You got the camera ready as the spotlight of the stage flickered on. 

 “Thank you all for coming out tonight! We hope you are ready to see the heartthrobs we have lined up for you!!” The announcer said setting the tone. “Valentine's day is all about love and being with one another. So if your single, ladies, pull those yen out and let’s get to business!” The crowd cheered and applauded as the auction began.

You didn’t pay much attention to the men coming on stage, your only worry was the last 4. You scrolled through the camera to see the pictures Atsumu took of you and Bokuto. Bokuto had such a wide smile on his face in the pictures, your smile was just as big, even though your face was full of panic in the one where he effortlessly picked you up. You’re pulled from your day dream when you heard the announcer’s voice.

 “We have some special guests tonight from the MSBY volleyball team! We’ll start first with Miya Atsumu!” The announcer said as Atsumu walked on the stage like he owned it. He flipped his hair and looked at the group of women he serenaded earlier and blew them a kiss. You got lucky and snapped a picture of it, he may be annoying as hell but he knows how to get women. He had about ten women fighting over him, his bids kept going up and up. After a cutthroat battle he was sold for roughly  200,000 yen. He smirked and walked off the stage. You couldn’t help but chuckled to yourself, he’d be one of a kind if he didn’t have a twin. 

 “Up next we have Hinata Shoyo!” She said as the tangerine headed boy shly walked on stage. He looked confident for the most part and he thankfully went to the bathroom before this. He had on one of his classic charming but cute smiles. You could hear girls behind you talk about how cute he was. His skin was glowing under the spotlight thanks to the Brazilian sun. His bids went up high, he ended up being sold for 120,000 yen. He waved at the audience and bounced off the stage.

 “Let’s welcome our next bachelor who just so happens to be the tallest one tonight, Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You watched on edge as Sakusa walked out, he didn’t seem nervous but he wasn’t all that interested either, he stood in the middle of the stage like a statue. To make matters worse he wasn’t smiling. You grabbed his attention for a moment and smiled as wide as you could and pointed at your face, you felt like one of the psychotic moms from toddlers and tiaras but you had to do something or he wasn't going to get any bids. You mouthed the words “Smile please” at him and he finally took the hint. He had an awkward but cute smile on his face finally. You relaxed a little and resumed taking pictures. His bids began to go up and quick. Sakusa looked at the exit of the stage and smirked at someone and turned his attention back to the crowd. You could only guess he was looking at Atsumu who was probably pissed at how high Sakusa’s bids were. Sakusa was sold for a whopping 500,000 yen. You know Tsumu’s ego was damaged beyond repair right now. Sakusa bowed and left the stage. 

 “Now let’s end this night right! We have one more contest so let’s welcome Bokuto Koutarou to the stage!” You felt your heart drop and the announcer said his name. You had to watch someone you loved dearly be bid off to some rich girl who would probably steal him away. You tried to knock away negative thoughts but you couldn’t help it. He looked sinfully good when he walked on stage. What nervousness he felt was gone and now it’s nothing but his overwhelming confidence. He carefully watched one specific area of the crowd. You snapped pictures of him (a lot of them being for your personal collection) as he walked around the stage flexing and showing off. His eyes met yours a lot and he seemed to be smirking at you. But his attention always went back to the one area of the crowd. You heard his bids go up, one particular girl was bidding for him like her life depended on having him. Her voice came from the direction he kept starting at. He looked nervous when anyone but her called out a bid. You began to get ate up with pure jealousy, you wish you could take him off the stage and run away with him right then and there. The bids kept going up and up and the girl that kept bidding on him got him for 150,000 yen. He looked ecstatic. He looked at you and smiled before he went off stage. Your heart dropped and you wanted to leave, but you still have work to do. 

 “That concludes the auction tonight! If you won you can meet up with your bachelor over here on the left.” The announcer pointed towards the group of men. You made your way to find the guys so you can take more pictures and let them know where you’ll be when they get done.

 “You guys did awesome!” You said running up to them. They gave you a soft smile. You notice Bokuto was MIA. “Umm guys, where is Bo?” They hesitated for a second but your conversation was cut short as the boys dates for the evening came up.

 “Sakusa was it?” A well dressed man walked up to the tall volleyball player. You noticed a small girl clutching his dress shirt. She couldn’t be any older than 8. “This is my daughter, she wanted someone to dance with her but in all honesty I’m trying to make some business deals while I’m here, keep her company for me.” The man patted his shoulder and slipped some extra money in Sakusa’s shirt pocket, leaving him slacked jawed. 

  “All the umeboshi your heart desires, a big box of the nice face masks you like, and whatever else you want, just please be nice to this poor girl. She looks sad.” You whispered into Omi’s ear trying to persuade him a little more.

 “I didn’t come here to babysit, but I guess I can.” He said low enough that the girl couldn’t hear. Omi peered down at the small girl, she actually had moles on her face kinda like he does but on the opposite side.

 “Umm hi.” She said looking up at the tall man. She seemed nervous. You nugged Omi in the side to get him to say anything.

 “When was the last time you washed your hands?” He asked the girl and you could have choked him. The girl giggled at his statement.

 “I wash my hands all the time! Look my mom even bought me this!” She pulled out a small key chain with a rabbit on it, attached was a small bottle of hand sanitizer. “Would you like some?” She said opening the cap. Sakusa held his hand as the small girl poured some into his hands and she gave herself some as well.

 “Good.” Sakusa said, pulling his mask from his pocket to put it back on. The little girl grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. You knew this was way out of his comfort zone, but he was still doing it. 

 “Omg your hair is so cute! Can I touch it?” You whipped your head around to see a young bubbly girl talking to Hinata. 

 “Umm s—s sure.” He said nervously as the girl ran and hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. The poor baby seemed so embarrassed. The dance floor was filled with couples and the girl dragged Hinata to the dance floor before he could even get her name. You turned to Atsumu who looked like he had seen a ghost.

 “Young man I’m getting my money's worth tonight so let's go dance.” An old lady who you thought resemble Baba Yaga from spirited away stood in front of poor Atsumu. 

 “Yes ma’am.” He said, forcing a smile.  He looked at you pleasing eyes that screamed “please save me Y/N”. You shook your head at him.

 “Pay attention to me boy, I paid good money for you.” The old lady said whacking Atsumu with the cane she carried.

 “Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” He said walking with the old woman to the dance floor. You had to turn your head and laugh, between Sakusa getting stuck babysitting a kid and Atsumu being stuck with a senior citizen after talking all that smack, it was priceless. You guess them ladies Atsumu talked to must not have liked him that much.

You searched around for Bokuto to make sure he got his date for the night, you were also curious who she was and how pretty she was. You felt that jealousy creep back on you. This was going to be a long night. You finally spot Bokuto talking to a drop dead beautiful girl, she looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place her. She and Bokuto seemed to be having a good time, she was laughing at something he had said. Your heart shattered. You look back up to see Bo making eye contact with you. All you could do was smile and get lost in the crowd before he could see the stray tear falling down your cheek. You needed to get outside for a bit, you felt like you were suffocating. You fought the crowd and finally made your way to the exit. You pushed the metal door open. The cold night felt good against your hot skin. You walked down a path in front of the building and tried to collect yourself. 

 “Another year alone and single.” You blurted out to yourself. You find a small bench and decide to sit down for a bit. The night sky brought a sort of comfort to you. The stars twinkled and the moon casted a peaceful light. The cold was getting to you but you were afraid to go back in. You mentally couldn’t handle it. 

 “PARKOUR.” You felt your soul leave your body as you saw a shadow jump over the bench you were sitting on. You flinched back ready to fight off the attacker only to be met with Bokuto standing in front.

 “BO you scared me to death!” You said inhaling a deep breath and clutching your chest.

 “I’m sorry my parkour was so awesome it scared you.” He said, taking his jacket off and draping it yet again around your cold body. Your nose flooded again with the scent of his cologne. It’s calmed you down in a bittersweet way. “But angel what are you doing out here, you’ll get sick if you're not careful.” He kneeled down a bit and pulled the jacket around your cold body more. 

 “I could ask you the same things Mr. Parkour, you have a beautiful woman in there waiting on you, so stop wasting your time on me.” You said trying to hold it together.

 “Well I’m more concerned with the real beautiful one sitting right in front of me.” He said grabbing your shaking hands. Your eyes went wide with what he said.

 “Bo I’m confused?” You said looking into his golden eyes.

 “Well that woman you saw me with is not really my date, yes she did bid on me, but she was never my real date. She is actually the guy who owns our gym's daughter! She agreed to bid on me, but in return she wanted a date with Atsumu’s brother and he agreed to do it! The team helped me do this so I could be with you tonight, but I guess it didn’t go as smoothly as I planned. I’m sorry I made you sad.” Bokuto sat beside you on the bench,

 “Bokuto are you low key confessing to me?” You looked over at him and he smiled and shook his head. 

 “Yes and let me do this properly.” He cleared his throat and held his hand out for you to grab, which you gladly accepted. “Y/N please let me be your date tonight and from here on out please!”  

 “So like boyfriend and girlfriend Bo?” You said wanting to make sure you got the message right.

 “Yes Y/N, please be my girlfriend. All that flexin on the stage was for you baby!” He stood up and flexed again making you laugh. “But in all seriousness, I freakin love you. So what do you say Y/N?” 

 “Yes. I would love nothing mo-“ Bokuto cut you off by lifting your body into his strong arms. You giggled as he swung you both in circles. He slowed down and seen you finally smile again

 “Now that’s a pretty sight, you're not going to be sad on my watch anymore. Now we better get back inside before we freeze to death!” Bokuto wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two began to walk back. “Wait I have something for you!” He dug through his pockets and pulled out a small jewelry box and handed it to you. You opened it and there was a necklace with a small owl charm and a “B” charm next to it.

 “Bo this is so cute! Can you help me put it on!” You said handing him the necklace. He struggled to get it on but finally got it. The silver was cold on your skin, but you didn’t mind at all.

 “Omi actually helped me pick it out, believe it or not. He said if I would have went alone I would have got something stupid.” Bokuto said, sliding the jewelry box back into his coat pocket. You hate to admit it but Sakusa going was probably a good thing. 

 “Bo I really love it, thank you.” You said leaving up and kissing his cheek. “Now let’s go back, I’ve got to check in on everyone.” You walked into the ballroom with your arm hooked around Bokuto’s bicep. 

You scanned the room to see if you could find any of the guys and the only one you could see was Hinata laughing with his date. They seemed to be hitting it off pretty good. “Bokuto let’s go get something to drink.” You both walked towards the bar, you see that girl who bid on Bokuto sitting next to Osamu. They both seemed to be having a good time.

 “Thank you again! The planned worked Y/N is my girlfriend now!” Bokuto walked up to them and showed you off. 

 “I’m so glad!” The girl said, clasping her hands together. “You are a cute couple.” 

 “Speaking of a cute couple.” Osamu chimed in and pointed towards his brother Atsumu who was being dragged around by that old lady. “I may have given her some free Onigiri vouchers and a few hundred yen to bid on him.” The twin laughed at his brother's despair. 

 “Your evil, but I like it.” The girl said as they clinked their drinks together. 

 “You guys enjoy it, we still have to hunt for Omi.” You bowed and clung back on to Bokuto. 

After circulating the ballroom a few times you finally find Sakusa and the little girl sitting at a table. Sakusa looked dead tired and the little girl was stuffing her face with cake

 “Omi you look like a tired dad.” Bokuto said bursting out laughing at his teammate. 

 “I see your plan worked.” Sakusa said, looking at the necklace through tired eyes. 

 “Yes it did now this cutie is all mine.” Bokuto said peppering your cheek with kisses.

 “How disgusting, when you grow up don’t date idiots like him.” Sakusa looked at the child who just nodded her head. It was hilarious to see Omi so out of his element. “That was directed at you Bokuto not Y/N.” 

 “Omi, he is a idiot but he is my idiot.” You patted Bokuto's back. 

 “Omi-Omi let’s go dance some more. I like this song.” The little girl tugged on his jacket. 

 “Fine.” Omi sighed and followed her dance floor.

 “Now that we know everyone (for the most part) is okay let’s dance!” You said leading Bokuto to the dance floor.

 You danced to every single song and Bo didn’t break anything when the cha cha slide came on. He swung you around all night without a care in the world. 

 “Let’s end the night with something nice and slow.” The Dj said putting on (Insert your favorite slow song)

  “May I have this dance pretty girl?” Bokuto asked, holding his hand out to pull you closer to him.

 “The Macarena may have wore me out, but I guess I have enough wind in me for one last song.” You teased wrapping your arms around his neck. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and began to slowly dance you around the room. 

 You see that little girl struggling to keep up with Omi’s big steps as he attempted to dance with her, he was at least trying you thought. Hinata was slow dancing with his date of the night, they both seemed comfortable and content with each other. Atsumu was still with that granny but he seemed to have accepted defeat as he danced around with her. Osamu danced with the gym owner's daughter and made it a mission to kick his brother when they got close enough, he even messed him up enough to cause the old to hit him with the cane again. You felt Bokuto's grip tighten and he dipped you down enough to finally kiss you on the lips. He pulled away and brought you back up to continue dancing. 

“ I love you Y/N.” Bokuto spoke softly in your ear. 

 “I love you too.” You said as the song faded out.

   “And one more thing Y/N” Bokuto said, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I told you I would have the most beautiful girl here.”

Fin

[laffodil-daffodil]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The day was beatifull. The birds were singing happily, the peacefull sound of the water running from rivers near by. Everything seemed quiet, calm. Nothing could ruin the moment of peace the forest was having.

The peace, however, did not reach everything.

The sound of a door slamming closed interrupted the calm, the sudden and loud noise resonating trough the forest, cutting the quietness like a knife would do to butter.

Regulus ran out of the cabin door in a hurry, muttering scoldings to himself under his breath. Just this morning (when he was going to make himself some breakfast) he realized that he had no food left (it was obvious, he went hunting over a month ago, the fact that he was too lazy and too depressed were the things that kept him all day on his bed)

He decided to go to the nearest town, he had some money on him from when he helped an old couple out with their strawberry cultives (the couple then gave him a wood box full of strawberrys', which he ate almost inmediatly after he got home).

Regulus never went to towns or villages or cities anymore, faking your own dead didn't allowed you to go in public (being from The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black didn't help eithet). Besides, all that he needed he could find it in the woods.

Like in the books Sirius read to him when he was a kid, like a bedtime story, and he would wait patiently until Sirius tip-toed to his room as quietly as possible so he wouldn't wake up Walburga and then give her a reason to beat them up and-

He stopped himself from remembering more. He always stopped himself from remembering things from his past, from when the time things weren't perfect but they weren't hell either.

He hasn't heard of his parents for years now, and even more less from Sirius (being supposedly dead kept you from keeping track of things outside from your bubble). He just hoped Sirius was finally happy, maybe even be together with that best friend of his (Remus, was it? He couldn't remember quite well his name), he always saw how his brother looked at the other guy with eyes full of adoration, like if Remus had brought him all of the stars in the nightsky.

He hoped his parents were dead, too. They deserved it, after all the shit they made Sirius and him go trough, all of those nights awake hearing his brothers' screams, or the banging of the metal door they locked Sirius in.

And when Sirius left, when his brother was finally physically free from them (because no, Sirius would never be completly free from them, neither of them both would ever be) ,it all just got worse from there. For Regulus, that is. His skin got paler and his eyes got duller, but he felt relief. His brother (the only one he had, the one he held close to his heart, even after being ignored) was finally out of the house they called home.

Regulus noticed (since the day Sirius ran away from "home") that his skin got healthier and his eyes got brighter, unlike him.

Regulus felt relief that his brother was finally able to be freely happy, to be able to love whoever the fuck he wanted to love, to wear whatever he wanted to wear. He truly was.

But what about me, Regulus thought, as he entered the little magical village. I want my happy ending, too. He knew he shouldn't ask for more, he should be more gratefull that he finally, after so much fighting, was finally free from his parents' grasp.

So why wasn't he? 

He said an apology under his breath to the old witch that bumped into him, and while she was yelling profanities at him while picking up her groceries, he continued to walk down the crowded street.

Regulus saw, from the corner of his eyes, an old looking bookstore. He walked towards it and pushed the glass door open, might as well buy some more books, no?

The little bell anounnced his entrance to the people inside the shopp, not that anyone cared about it.

Regulus made a bee-line towards the mitology section and picked up two books. One had a deep red cover, with bold golden letters as a tittle. The other had a black cover in its totallity, (also) with bold golden letters.

He made his way towards the front desk to pay for the books, when a wood table that had the newspaper got his attention.

He didn't exactly knew why did it catch his attention, he just knew that he just had to check it out (something in the deepest part of his heart told him to do so). 

So he followed his instinct.

"MURDERER SIRIUS BLACK, ARRESTED FOUR YEARS AGO AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-TWO, WAS CAUGHT YESTERDAYS' NIGHT TRYING TO ESCAPE AZKABAN"

He what

Regulus lowered the paper a little and stared at it with incredulity. Sirius was arrested?

Sirius was arrested four years ago?

Regulus did the counts on his head. Four years ago he faked his death to be free, when he tought Sirius wasn't in fucking prison? What in the actual fuck?

He lifted the paper a little with shacky and malhourised hands, those hands that were once soft and didn't know hard work, now, those hands were covered in scars, all of them because of years in the woods, from cutting trees and building his small cabin and fighting wild animals to survive.

He did all of that to survive, all of this- he did it for himself.

He was enjoying freedom while his brother (the brother who neglected you after being choosen in a rival house, the brother who, in a far away past, held your hands on his own and looked at you in the eyes and told you everything was going to be alright) was in prison for murderer, something Regulus believed was false.

Sirius would never kill anyone, Regulus was sure of that.

But that didn't mattered, no. It didn't make any difference to Regulus. His brother ignoring him didn't changed anything, the younger still loved him with all his heart, with all that he had.

His silver eyes looked at the newspaper again, a burning fire making its way into his heart.

"Sirius Black is responsable of the death of a wizard, Petter Pettigrew and thirtheen muggles"

Okay, now Regulus was one-hundred percent sure that his brother had been framed. Regulus knew his brother would never kill muggles, besides, wasn't Petter Pettigrew one of his closest friends?

He continued reading, he needed as much information as he could find. He reached the end of the paragraph, and one or two drops of sweat appeared in his temple.

"-Black is now behind the bars again, the security involving him has increased and is now stronger than ever."

Okay, Regulus wasn't freaking out at all, why would he? The fact that his brother is in fucking Azkaban doesn't inmediatly means he will freak out, nu huh.

Because he is a calm, cool-headed individual, yes he is.

He was not freaking out, and anyone who said otherwise is a liar.

Steps resonated in the small wood cabin owned by the younger heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.

Regulus swears he can hear his own hearbeats, beating in his ears and, somehow, telling him to do something, anything.

He doesn't quite know what to do, what to expect of this. This was crazy, right?

He knows it is, so why was he having second thoughts?

Do it, Reg. Just go for it, what could go wrong? A small voice says inside his head. It sounds deep and raspy, but also (for some reason) bubbly and playfull. ‘Like Sirius', he thinks.

Is it risky? Yes, definitly so. Would it be possibly worth it? He hopes so.

This is one-hundred percent a crazy, impulsive idea, but he was willing to try and give it a shot if it meant his brother would read him bedtime storys at night again.

He just wants his brother back, was that too much to ask?-

‘But it is! That lazy blood-traitor scum left you behind, for you to rot in that house, all by yourself while he had fun!’ A different voice screams at him and Regulus flinches, because it sounds so much like his mothers' voice it scares him to the bone.

"Please stop talking..." He begs to the empy room. He takes a shacky breath-in to try and get these voices of people that are not even there with him out of his head.

‘Reggie please listen to me! You have to get me out! I know you can do it, you're really smart!’ Sirius says inside his head, and Regulus can almost imagine him with puppy eyes while saying it.

‘Don't listen to that disgrace, Regulus! You are better than that, you will not hear whatever nonsense comes out of that stupid boys' mouth-’ ‘Im not stupid, you are the one in the wrong, Regulus knows-’ ‘Regulus will know best than to hear anything from you, unlike you, he knows what is best for him-’ ‘Like if you would know what is best for him-’

He feels overwhelmed, the voices are yelling at him to do things and Regulus doesn't know who to hear. He feels his heart beating faster, and he can hear his shaky breaths, and he feels the sweat in his forehead, and his hands in his ears-

"Stop!" Regulus yells, and the voices grow quiet. Hot tears stream down of his face as his knees make contact with the floor of wood.

The voices aren't talking anymore, but he still covers his ears tightly. He wants to get rid of the uncomfortable weight his chest has on it. He wants the headache that is starting to form to go away.

Suddlendly, its like he's five all over again. Just, this time, Sirius is not around to hug him.

Sirius wasn’t going to be around ever again.

Regulus tries to calm down. Breath in, breath out. He was going to be alright, he would find a way. He always does. He’s smart, Sirius always said so.

He remains kneeled on the floor for what feels like an hour, but were probably just two minutes (for him, it felt like a whole lifetime).

Regulus sighs and starts to stand up slowly, like if he went a little bit more quicker, then everything around him would dissapear in an instant.

Supporting his body on the wooden walls (he is still too dizzy to walk by himself, still too weak), Regulus makes his way towards his small bed made out of straw he borrowed (stole) and throws himself at it, exhausted of the events of today.

He has a plan, it is all clear in his mind already. And altough he is scared (of being taken to Azkaban, of dying while trying to save Sirius), a feeling he is not familiar with snuggles inside his chest. It has been there before, Regulus knows it has. (It feels like greeting an old friend who was there for you in your lowest point, but then dissapeared out of the blue. Regulus knows its name, but he can't shake its hand like old buddies would). 

And then he closes his eyes and dreams about how his life has been so far. How cold it has been, how lonely it all felt (And Regulus wishes it would had passed like a blurr, (like when you zone out in a conversation and you miss a part of it) but it didn't, and Regulus hates that).

The next morning he wakes up with a headache that forces him to close his eyes tightly.

In all honestly, Regulus feels like shit, both physically and mentally.

Feelings suck, and he would stand by that until the day he became nutrients to the Earth.

He sits on the uncomfortable excuse of a bed slowly, trying not to make his headache worse than it already is. He sits there for a minute or two, before deciding to stand up and go see if there is anything he can eat.

He believes he bought food yesterday, but he couldn't really be sure about that. Everything that he did after reading that newspaper was blank, there was no memory of something else happening after that whatsoever.

His legs are better now that he rested properly. 'There is nothing a good nap can't cure!' Regulus remembers Sirius' voice telling him one day, after Walburga went particularly rough with the Cruciatus Curse on them.

Regulus remembers, that same night, Sirius cuddled up to him on his bed, and held him tight against his chest. Regulus never got in the way when Walburga was insulting Sirius, but that time he did. It did not end pretty.

They both ended up getting tortured, Regulus more than Sirius that time.

They were ten and six at that time.

Now he realized that he, in fact, did bought food yesterday. Some bread and cheese, along with a loaf of bread that didn't look in the best condition (he couldn't really afford that much after all, there was so much a few coins could buy).

As he started cutting some of the bread, he tought about his options, about what he could do and about what was out of the question.

Regulus could only think about two viable options that would (probably) (hopefully) decrease the chances of everything going wrong.

One (this one was crazy) he could try and become an animagus. An animal form would surely help him get in and out of the prison.

Now, that option would take him months of preparations, maybe even years.

(He knows most wizards and witches with animagus form had taken several years to even figure out how to become an animagus, but he is Regulus Black for Godric's sake. He isn't most wizards)

(He is better than most, after all)

The black-haired male stands there in the middle of his tiny kitchen, a knife still in his left hand. He thinks he has an idea, someone who would surely help him if he asked. 

But in order to ask them, he would have to find them first.

Where exactly are you, Remus Lupin?

. . .

Remus wasn’t having a good morning (he never was having anything good). First, he woke up past 6 am and ended up arriving late at work (again), and his boss yelled at him for 5 minutes (again), and then, oh and then, he ended up getting fired (AGAIN), which, by the way, was the cherry on top to his shitty morning, and it wasn’t even 1 in the afternoon yet.

Now he would have to search for any jobs that would accept him, again (this was the second time in the month that he was fired from a job; in the first one he may or may not had punched a co-worker (in his defense, the bastard was talking shit about a female co-worker, and Remus just got really really angry).

And as he stomped angrily in the direction where his house was, he came to realize that he fucked this up really bad. Now he had no job, not even one kind of support to survive another month, and he sure as hell didn’t have any friends to go back to if things got more rough.

Ah, now he’s just sad.

He glanced at the plants and flowers growing at the sides of the road made of dirt, and he remembers.

Remus remembers the times when he used to be happy, when his only concern was passing his exams and not letting his crush on Sirius (oh Sirius, i miss you terribly) showing up and exposing him. When he would hang out with Lily at the library, and talk about how classes were starting to get more difficult as the days passed, or how they would gossip and talk badly about Severus ("-and have you seen his hair today?"), and they would talk and talk, and then talk some more.

Or when he would help James with his game plans, and they would stay up until the sun appeared again at the next day. Or when he would bake with Peter at the schools' kitchen at really late hours at night.

And he remembers, too, the times when he would look at Sirius and he would just get lost in his silver eyes. And Remus would look at him like Sirius was the most beatifull being in the would (in his eyes, he was).

He misses those times, he yearns for them. He wants them back, with all of his heart.

Life has always been rough for him, its just the way things are.

Because he deserved it.

(or so his father said)

Remus sees his little house at a distance. It looks deteriorated and in ruins, that house. The wild flowers are all around it, and there’s plants climbing on the walls and covering the windows.

He sees a cloaked figure standing on his porch, and Remus feels fear.

But he won’t show it, no, he won’t, ‘because fear is for cowards’ , his father would say, and the voice he would use left no room to question him.

“Can i help you with something?” Remus says, loud and clear. 

The person in black tensed, and turned around to face Remus slowly, like if they were scared (’of what?’ Remus wondered, but he kept quiet- like he always does)

Facing each other, silver and brown met.

“Oh”

The wind roared from outside, strong and merciless as ever. It made the trees dance and the leaves from them to roam free on the sky. 

The raindrops that fell from the sky were hitting on the glass of the window with force, on the roof, on the dirt. It left nothing untouched.

“How have you been, Remus?” The man in question turned his gaze from the window to the person in-front of him. The years had taken a ton from him, it seemed. Yet, the beauty he owned many years ago had not left him, no. It made him even more handsome, Remus concluded. His silver eyes (oh, his eyes were so smilar to his Sirius’-) were bright, a shine in them Remus has never seen before in the younger man. 

Remus gripped the handle of his mug of tea. The sweet honey tea with lavender inside of it warmed his hands, full of calluses and old scars, it soothed him and the pains he felt in them. “You should be dead” He says, looking at the eyes of Regulus, searching (searching?) for an answer to his one-hundred-and-one questions.

“Let me explain, Remus. Please, would you listen to what i have to say?” Regulus says, and he sounds so hurt, so exhausted and done with everything. He says nothing in response, just goes back to looking out of the window, where the wind and rain still are. Where everything follows its course.

“I faked my death...that night i-, i saw an opportunity and i took it, and then i--”

“You left Sirius” Remus says, and the voice that comes out of him sounds so not like him, so aggressive and upset and loud and so much like his voice- 

Still, Remus doesn’t back off. He looks up at Regulus and flinches. He looks so upset and angry, like Remus just did something so disgusting and wrong that he can’t take it. 

Those silver eyes (One of the distinguished features of the oh so noble and honorary Black Family) burn in his soul like silver things burns in his skin. And it’s terrifyng and powerful in equal portions.

“He left me behind first, Remus” Regulus says, his voice filled with venom and as aggressive as Remus’ voice before. “He left me behind the moment i got into Slytherin” He adds, and Remus can hear his erratics breaths over the muffled sound of rain.

They stay silent, for a while. Not wanting to fight but not wanting to talk either.

“Why are you here, Regulus? We hardly ever talked back at Hogwarts, so i can’t imagine a reason behind your visit” Remus finally says. With the new need to do something (-anything), he stands up from the badly hand-made wood chair and takes his mug of half finished and still warm tea, walking with rapid steps towards the tiny kitchen connected to the living room. He occupies his hands with cutting the remains of the bread he baked yesterday.

“I came to ask you for a favor “ He starts “,you see-- Don’t look at me like that, Remus, hear me out first” Regulus says, and stands up too.

The black haired male takes a deep breath, as if he’s preparing himself to say something difficult to speak out loud. “Sirius is innocent, Remus, i am sure of it” 

Everything goes silent from there. Remus can’t hear a thing because of the annoying ringing in his ears, and even before muffled sound of the rain is in the background now. He sees Regulus moving his mouth, and Remus is sure he is saying something (most probably something important), but he can’t hear a thing.

And Remus is so angry right now. It bubbles in his chest, from deep beneath with all of the emotions he repressed all of those years, and if he doesn’t calm down now then it’s going to explode. What could Regulus know anyways? He wasn’t even there in the first place! He was too bussy faking being dead, and hiding somewhere away from civilitation, like the stupid coward he is.

(Remus know he is a coward too, he knows it all too well. Because he knows that, (deep down) Sirius is innocent. He just hasn’t come to terms with it because he is so angry and he feels so betrayed and-- how could them leave him behind like this?) (Remus knows that he is stupid, too, because all he wants is someone to blame for the death of Lily and James and Peter-- someone to blame for little Harry slipping away from his fingers like sand)

(And Remus knows that he is a hypocrite, too)

“...--and you know, Remus, that Sirius would never do such a thing, we both know it!” Regulus says, his voice sounds more clear now, less muffled and silent. And it sounds so desperate, begging for understanding and someone to hear him out. 

“Those were his best friends, and even i -that a i wasn’t even close to him-, knows that is a fact! He couldn’t had killed them like that!” He yells, and Remus feels sick.

“...get out...” The words come out of his mouth before he can register them, just above a whisper.

“What?”

“I said get out!” He shouts at Regulus, the boiling feeling of anger finally snaps inside of him, and now he just wants someone to yell at, someone to discharge all of his repressed emotions at.

And he does. Before he knows it, Regulus is out of his house and into the pouring rain, because Remus takes his wand out of his back pocket and yells a ´Crucio!’ and fires it to Regulus, who dodges and sprints out of the house.

And Remus is all alone again, inside of that small and old house, with the feeling of anger and guilt and sadness washing over him. 

He feels his knees too weak to support him, and falls to the floor with a ‘thud!’. And for the first time since his loved ones left him, for the first time since his life fell apart, he allows himself to cry and yell.

And he feels like a little kid again.

. . .

Okay, Regulus admits, the plan did not work out like he thought it would.

Maybe he did broke the news too strongly, he kind of got angry at first. But it wasn’t really his fault, Remus said something he couldn’t even had known! His relationship with Sirius and how broken it was wasn’t any of his business.

But it’s fine, Regulus can do this on his own. It’ll be harder, but he’ll do it. 

No matter the cost.

Two years pass by and Regulus is ready to start with the second and hardest part of his plan. Getting Sirius out of prison.

It too him a whole year and a half to even figure out how to become an animagus, and the other half of the year to learn how to switch to his animal form. But he’s finally ready, and he is so excited to mend things with Sirius and be brothers again.

Now he’s standing on the port, unleashing the rope that’s tied to a boat he’s about to steal. The boat is old, but it looks solid still. Regulus wonders what kind of adventures it has lived, the people it has carried, the tales it had heard from other peoples’ mouths.

Regulus gets in the boat before it couldbfloat away from shore, and sits.

He feels the texture of the wood under him. It's cold and damp, and he can feel the old carves in the wood forming the word he assumes reads 'fishy'.

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head side to side. Probably a little kid wrotte that.

Maybe many years ago, a family had a trip to catch fishies in this very boat. Regulus pictures a father and his youngest son, on a sunny day, in this boat. The father tries to teach his son how to catch a fish, but the child, as most little kids usually do, gets bored with the waiting and as there's no other way of entertaiment, he carves the word on the old boat.

He wishes that instead of being in this situation, in the thick, thick fog, he would be fishing with his older brother. He wishes things turned out differently.

Regulus wishes he could live his youth with his brother, instead of trying to rescue him from a crime he definitely did not commit.

Oh, Regulus wishes were so many. But those were only wishes, thoughts that are in the past now. Realities that already lost their chances to exist a long time ago.

And with these thoughts clouding his mind like the fog cloudes his vision, Regulus grabs the oars and starts paddling.

The splinters in the oar feel like nothing against his tough and scarred hands, instead of hurting him, they keep him on the real world, away from the one where he goes when everything is too much, when he loses himself.

Regulus doesn't know how many hours went by until he could see the impotent building that was Azkaban. And as he was nearing it, the waves kept rocking his small boat, threatening him to flip.

He wonders if everything he's doing right now would be enough. He wonders, as the boat flips harshly to its side and throws him off of it into the freezing water, if Sirius knows he loves him more then life itself.

Regulus doesn't fight back the cold water, not at all. Instead, he lets it settle in his bones, in his belly, in his lungs.

If being held feels like this, then Regulus decided he liked it. No one ever held him before, maybe as a baby, but as he grew older, the only one who held him close was Sirius.

Sirius... who is Sirius, exactly?

He tries to remember, he feels the name belongs to an important person, but his mind is as numb as his arms and legs feel, if not even more.

It doesn't matter, he thinks, because im dying anyways.

Life is cruel, he decides with a heavy feeling in his chest, as his heavy body sinks him deeper and deeper on the ocean.

He'll be sleeping forever next to sand and rocks and corals of multiple colours, and the black of his hair will meld perfectly next to them.

Regulus doesn't fight, but he dies with a ball of hatred and love and yearning in his heart. He'll be dreaming for eternity of wishes and unspoken words, of hugs and arms that will never hold him ever again.

Life is cruel, and Regulus Black knows it all too well.

.

.

.

.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

IM SORRY I JUST COULDN'T GIVE THE BLACK BROTHERS AND REMUS THEIR HAPPY ENDING SKSNEKEMS what can i say, im a sucker for an angsty ending.

anyways, this was inspired by this blog (https://eronlupett.tumblr.com/post/642858372635475968/i-need-a-writer) by ". and before you mentuon it, yes, i was going to writte a happy ending, i just couldn't, like, cmon on, it was right there, i couldn't resist.

i had lots of fun writting this, but it still took me almost 5 months to finish it lolz. guess i just didn't had the motivation.

let me know what you think of my witting style, or if you have any opinions, just dont b disrespectful!

byebye^^

[lupinblacktheone]

War games

Notes: Hey, guys! This was based on @dedlit's amazing art! You should check their fanart out prior to reading this. (I would like to post the link to the specfic fanart in which this work is based on, but it doesn't seem possible for some reason. I highly recommend you follow their blog too!)

***

Robby managed to escape Kreese's claws - by properly telling him to fuck off - and is willing to join Eagle Fang Karate. Daniel welcomes him back with open arms and is putting a big-time effort into getting Johnny and his son to get along, which is going great, the students, on the other hand, still haven't figured out a way to be friends (or at least, hate each other a little less). Johnny and Daniel have lots of brainstorming sessions, trying to come up with ideas.

"C'mon, guys, just give them nerf guns and they will shoot the tension out", Anthony suggests, taking a bow of Doritos to his room.

“You know... maybe he is right", Johnny says, putting his pencil down. "Nothing can bond people better than a healthy war game."

"Ok, how about you sort out the teams while I buy the guns?"

"Yeah, sure."

A few hours later, Daniel and Anthony come back home with four boxes full of all kinds of nerf guns and Johnny shows them the line-ups. He has made sure to mix up former Cobras and Miyagi-Dos in both sides.

"I even got Robby and Miguel to be in the same side!"

"Huh, babe, I thought you wanted to get on Robby's bright side", Daniel makes a confused face.

"I do, indeed, but I couldn't miss this chance. I'm planning to take him out for dinner later."

Daniel shakes his head, imagining the war game's outcome. Anthony wants to be an assistant sensei during the game, since Johnny and Daniel will be busy as hell. He even dresses up in army-printed sweatshirts and makes a face painting.

When everybody is at Mr. Miyagi's old house, Daniel explains them the rules.

"You must work together to achieve an objective, which is getting the other team's flag and shooting as many people from the opposite team as possible. You got it?"

"Yes, sensei", they answer in a loud, strong chorus.

"Step up and choose your weapons", Johnny invites. As they pick the guns, he tells them which team they'll be in. Miguel makes a slightly annoyed face when he's told to team up with Robby. "The rules are the rules, Diaz."

"Those are your rules", he mumbles, standing by Mitch's side.

The teams will have some time to organize a strategy and hide their flag. Sam's team elects a leader and puts the flag between the twigs of a tall tree. Of course, Robby and Miguel are arguing, because the first one wants to set the flag in the bottom of the pond and the latter wants to put it on the roof.

"It's too visible!", Robby complains.

"Kind of, but it'll be easier for us to shot them when they try to get up there."

"Did you forget Demetri's on their side? He only needs a hop to get on the roof."

"So what? We shot him and he's out."

"And then, he throws the flag down and they win!"

Chris would like to complain to the senseis and maybe, they will let the team play short on two players – which good could they do, anyway? – but before he can get to them, someone, probably Nate, solves the issue by grabbing the flag and hiding it in a corner of the fence and yelling orders to split the group in offensive and defense.

A whistle blows. The game is on.

Johnny and Daniel watch it drinking lemonade and holding hands.

“Hey, Danny.”

“Yes, honey?”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I sure do”, the man leans over to peck the other’s lips.

The kids start joining them, grumbling about unfair shooting. Daniel rests his head on Johnny’s shoulder.

Johnny would bet some money on Samantha’s team, since they had come up with such a brilliant plan that included a circle of fire around their tree and hidden snipers, and it is really surprising when he hears Robby screaming:

“We won!”

He’s sitting on Miguel’s shoulders. Them both look so happy and proud that Johnny’s heart melts.

Daniel lectures the kids a bit about teamwork’s importance. With an evil smirk on his face, Anthony declares:

“Get ready for round two! Senseis versus the students!”

Johnny does the most rational thing he can think of: grab Daniel and three plastic guns and then, run as hell. Maybe it would be smarter to take separate ways, but Johnny won’t leave his boyfriend’s side, not even when they are being hunted down by a mass of angry teens – and two of them are their real children!

They are cornered. Now, Sam, Demetri, Robby and Miguel are standing in the front line.

“Sorry, dad!”, Samantha says. If you look into her eyes, you’ll notice that she’s having a good time and might be not that sorry.

“Now we got you, Mr. L!”, Demetri raises his gun at the level of his eyes.

“No mercy, sensei! Your rules, not mine”, of course, Miguel wouldn't hold back from that little revenge.

“Well, sensei Lawrence, I guess the ‘enemy’ has us surrounded”, Daniel points a gun at Sam’s direction while the other is pointing at someone behind them.

“Ready to go down together?”, Johnny points his gun at Miguel.

“With you by my side? Always.”

“Come on, Demetri, let’s finish them!”, Robby urges and then, everybody shoots as if the world was about to end.

Yeah, summer was never this perfect.

[caranfindel]

Fic: The whirlwind is in the thorn tree

wincest | about 3000 words | R for language and adult themes | characters: sam winchester, dean winchester

synopsis: My first and probably last stab at Wincest. No actual sex, just post-coital angst.

Flowers in the Attic is a cheesy gothic novel featuring four children who are locked in an attic by their scheming mother who hopes to hide their existence; the oldest son and daughter eventually begin an incestuous relationship.

The title is from "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash, which I never heard until recently but am now obsessed with.

. . .

Part 1: Dean

It doesn't start with romance or lust. It doesn't start with that little flash of bare skin visible above his jeans when he raises his arms (it makes you crazy and you don't know why; you see him shirtless all the time but for some reason that little strip of skin that isn't meant to be showing just brings you to your knees). It doesn't start with you staring at that perfectly sculpted spot at the base of his throat and finally setting your mouth to it and marking him up the way you've dreamt about for years (you've bruised him when you were sparring, and you've battered him in anger, but you've never left a mark for the purpose of saying hands off, he's mine and oh, what you would do just for the chance). It doesn't start with you too drunk to keep holding it all in and Sam too drunk to say no (you would never, you would never).

It starts with terror. Pure balls-to-the-wall terror that you're about to lose him. A horribly fucked-up hunt where you almost die, but more importantly, you almost watch Sam die, and you stumble into your motel room, both still out of breath, still not quite sure what happened out there, and you're checking him for injuries and every breath is a silent mantra, I almost lost you, I almost lost you, and nothing is enough, you want to crawl under his skin, you want to open him up and cradle his heart in your hands to make sure it's still beating, you're holding him tighter and tighter and he's clutching you just as tight, looking into your soul with those big wet eyes and saying “Dean, Dean," like your name itself is a prayer, a request. A plea. Whatever he is pleading for, you will give it to him. And it turns out the only thing he wants is all of you.

Which is convenient. Because the only thing you want is all of him.

. . .

But then comes After, and you have to face what you've done.

When you wake up (his arm is still flung over you, it's so wrong, it's so wrong), you quietly crawl out of bed and hurry into the shower. There is no water hot enough to scrub you clean, no soap strong enough to wash away your sins (watch out for your brother, it's your most important job). When you give up and turn off the water, you realize you didn't bring any clothes to change into, and you sure as hell weren't wearing any when you fled into the bathroom. There's nothing you can do but wrap a towel around your waist and hope he's still asleep.

He's not. He's sitting up in the bed you shared. His hair is a tousled mess, a silky brown cloud, and your fingers twitch with the craving to be tangled in it again. He doesn't look disgusted, or repulsed. He looks… hopeful. Like he hasn't caught on yet that you are a monster.

(He will be the death of you.)

(He is your reason for living.)

You sit on the other bed and try not to stare at that hickey that you finally managed to put at the base of his throat. (There are other marks. Don't look at them either.)

He speaks first. "Look, I know this is some crazy Flowers in the Attic kind of shit—"

"Oh, this is so much worse than Flowers in the Attic."

"Why?" His brow furrows. "Because it's gay?"

Which stops you in your tracks, because of course that's not the problem. But also because you haven't even thought of this as gay. It's not that you're interested in guys. You're not thinking about random guys when you jack off in the shower, or when you can't fall asleep, or when your life sucks and your heart hurts and you need an escape. It's not guys. It's not anyone else. You've chased a lot of tail over the years, trying to convince yourself otherwise, but it's just Sam. Only, always and forever, Sam.

But now he's looking at you like you're some kind of monster, like being a homophobe is somehow worse than being a sick bastard who wants to fuck his little brother. So you quickly say "No, dammit, you know that's not it."

"Then what? Why is it worse?"

And it's not fair that Sam is both your victim and the priest who will hear your confession; it's not fair that you're going to have to say the thing that will make him hate you, make him walk away from you again, but, well. Life stopped being fair when you were four years old. He would have figured it out anyway. He's too damn smart not to eventually realize whose fault it all is.

"It's worse because I raised you, Sam. I did this to you. I made you want this."

"What?" Sam's voice goes up an octave, incredulous. "You're saying you groomed me?"

"Not on purpose! But yeah, subconsciously, I must have done something! I must have screwed you up somehow. Otherwise, you wouldn't… there's no way you would have…"

"Slept with my brother? So there's no way I would have wanted to have sex with my brother unless someone snuck into my brain and planted the idea there? Someone must have made me want it? Is that what happened?"

Oh, Jesus, Sam just needs to stop talking, because he's making it worse. Yes, obviously you planted that idea in his sweet, trusting little head. Who knows when or where or how, but obviously you did that. Obviously you took him, the brother you were supposed to watch out for, you took his innocent love for you and twisted it into something awful and self-serving.

But he's not looking at you like he just realized what a monster you are, like he finally saw the darkness you've managed to hide all this time. He's smiling.

"You're an idiot," he says. "But okay, let's say you're right. Let's say the only reason I would want to have sex with my brother is because someone raised me wrong. Someone screwed with my head when I was little and made me want this. Then who did it to you?"

No, wait. That's not. You stare at him, mute.

"If you raised me to want this," he continues, "who did it to you? Dad? Is that what was going on, all those times you guys went off on a hunt and left me at a hotel? Dad spent the whole time convincing you that at some point you were going to have to throw me on the bed and have your way with me?"

"Dammit, Sam, that's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny, Dean. I'm just trying to show you how ridiculous it is to blame yourself. No one made you want it, and no one made me want it. It's just a product of our fucked-up lives. There are no victims here."

Is that possible? You want (so much, so much) to believe it. But even if he's not your victim, he still has to see how wrong it is. You've ripped your heart wide open and he's staring right at its dark, festering core. Surely he sees that.

"It may be a victimless kind of fucked up," you say cautiously, afraid to break whatever spell has been cast. "But it's still pretty fucked up."

"I'm not saying it's normal," he says. "You and me, this is definitely not normal. But we left normal behind a long time ago. We were never gonna have that. And this is something we do get to have."

Oh, okay. Sam can't have normal, so he's settling for Dean Winchester, the world's shittiest consolation prize. Well, that's the only part of this that makes sense. And you're not too proud to accept that role. You look at the carpet (you can't look at him) and nod. He will leave you again someday, when he does find normal, but for now? This is enough. This is still more than you ever thought you'd have. More than you deserve.

Sam throws back the covers. He is still very, very naked. Bruised from the hunt, and bruised from what happened after the hunt. (And so goddamn beautiful. He doesn't even know.) He gets out of bed and sits next to you. Not touching, but close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. When you do finally force yourself to look at him, he smiles at you again, that fond smile that stabs you right through the heart. You would give anything to have him sitting next to you, smiling that smile at you, for the rest of your life.

"You know," he says, "all those years I spent chasing normal, it was because I didn't think I could have what I really wanted. This, Dean. You and me. This is what I want. I wouldn't trade it for normal. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

If that's true. Oh God, if that's true.

"So," he continues, "maybe we just appreciate it. Maybe we hold onto it. I mean. Only if you want to."

Only if you want to. Like there's anything you want more. Sam is offering you all you've ever wanted, and all you have to do is reach out and take it.

You've lost the ability to speak, but whatever words you came up with would surely fuck it all up anyway. You take his hand and entwine his fingers in your own. He squeezes. You squeeze back. It's just one more in an endless history of wordless conversations, but it's the most important one you've ever had. You both sit there quietly for a minute, and you are very aware that you are wrapped in a towel and he is naked and you're holding hands and… it's not weird. It's okay. It's better than okay.

"You know," he says, "the most disturbing thing about all of this is that you just admitted you read Flowers in the Attic."

You have to clear your throat before you can answer. "It was a book? I saw the movie on TV once, when I couldn't sleep."

It's a lie. He knows it's a lie. He was there with you, that awful winter in Nebraska, when Dad dumped you at that weird old house for a couple of weeks and the only thing to do was pick through the pile of ragged paperbacks some teenage girl left behind. He knows you read it. He doesn't know you got to the incest scene and tossed the book away, no, no, I would never do that to him. I would never. He doesn't know you picked it up again, later, hoping it had a happy ending.

He knows you're a liar. He knows you're twisted and wrong. He loves you anyway. And maybe you don't deserve it, but you'll take it anyway, and hold onto it for as long as you can.

Part 2: Sam

Something about almost losing Dean puts everything into perspective. And yes, you almost died too, but it's hard to see your own death as comparable. Dean's near-death is what matters, the thing that paints everything in stark black and white.

There's no time to talk, no time to wonder, no time to check each other for injuries and try to figure out how you escaped this time. He shoves you into the Impala and speeds away from the scene, and you stare at his (beautiful) profile and think I can't do this any more, I can't die and not tell you how I feel, I can't let you die without knowing what you mean to me, I can't do it, I won't.

But it's not the first time you've told yourself that, or the second or third. And you know you'll fail, in the end, as you always have. Except. Except that when you finally make it into the room you're both still a little panicky, still having a hard time catching your breath, hearts pounding, and he says are you hurt, are you hurt as he paws at you, and then holds you tight and won't let go (you don't want him to, oh God you don't want him to) and you grab him, hold him just as tight and this is it, this is the moment, use your words, dammit, but all you can do is keep repeating his name like an idiot and you finally just kiss him and it turns out neither of you needs words after all.

. . .

Dean's hasty exit wakes you, and your heart leaps panicky into your throat for a minute. You fucked it up, he's running; all those years you held your feelings in check and now you've fucked it up and he's running. But he simply rushes into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He showers for a long time, which gives you time to think about what to say. Because you know he's going to be freaked out. You know he's going to say this is wrong, this is bad, we can't do this again. But there is no going back now; you can only go forward. You salted and burned just brothers last night. The only option now is brothers plus whatever this is. You'll have to make your way through whatever objections he has.

When he finally comes back into the room, every speck of his normal bravado is gone. He looks frightened and guilty (and beautiful, so damn beautiful, with the morning sun peeping through the flimsy curtains highlighting him in gold, picking out each eyelash as if God himself were directing it) and your heart melts like it always does. You are so fucked.

He clutches the towel wrapped around his hips tightly, and you're pretty sure the only reason he hasn't already put three layers of clothing between you and him is because in his hurry to get into the the shower he didn't take time to grab his armor. So, yeah. He's freaked out. It's okay. You'll talk him down (there is no choice, there is no other option) and it will be okay.

But it turns out you are not at all prepared for what his real objection is. Not at all.

You could tell him the truth. Yes, you made me want you. Just by being you. By being beautiful and brave and smart and funny and strong and exasperating. You made me love you in a way you are not supposed to love a brother, just by being you.

Or another truth is this. You think you were grooming me? When I was thirteen? When I was a gangly, clumsy, morose little barely-a-teenager? Because that's when it started, Dean. It wasn't anything you did. You weren't grooming me, you were busy chasing anything in a skirt. I had just turned thirteen years old and all I wanted was you.

But there is another very important truth, which is that you're both kind of irreparably fucked up. And this is possibly a silver lining to that. The fact that you're fucked up the same way, together.

"I'm not saying it's normal," you tell him. “You and me, this is definitely not normal. But we left normal behind a long time ago. We were never gonna have that. And this is something we do get to have." He has to see that, right? He has to understand that you two cannot measure yourselves by other peoples' yardsticks.

His reaction is to withdraw a little bit. Does he not believe you? Can he not tell, even now, that you love him so much it burns? You have no choice. There is no going back. You get out of bed and sit next to him. "You know, all those years I spent chasing normal, it was because I didn't think I could have what I really wanted. This, Dean. You and me. This is what I want. I wouldn't trade it for normal. I wouldn't trade it for anything. So, maybe we just appreciate it. Maybe we hold onto it. I mean. Only if you want to."

You gave him an out. You pray he doesn't take it. He doesn't. Thank God (or no, probably not God), he doesn't. You sit next to him, naked as the day you were born, and he doesn't flinch, doesn't lean away, doesn't say no, Sam, this is weird, this is bad, this is wrong. He just looks up at you like he's dumbfounded, but in a good way. And then he takes your hand. He's clasped your hand thousands of times, shepherding you across busy streets as a child, hauling you out of freshly dug graves as an adult. But this is the first time he's actually held your hand, and it feels like something greater; like a vow.

You need to change the subject pretty quickly, before you make a goddamn fool of yourself.

"You know, the most disturbing thing about all of this is that you just admitted you read Flowers in the Attic."

Dean's voice is hoarse. "It was a book? I saw the movie on TV once, when I couldn't sleep."

It's a lie. You know it's a lie. You made sure he saw you reading it, and you watched him pick it up after you were done. You had a thousand imaginary conversations where he said what did you think about that book and you said siblings locked in an attic for years, all they had was each other, it makes sense that their relationship would transform into something else, it wasn't hurting anybody, and after all, incest is only taboo because of the risk of birth defects, and many civilizations actually encouraged marriage between siblings, it's not really a big deal, and he said exactly, especially in a situation like that where they're literally in their own little world, and I've been thinking, and then and then and then.

None of that happened. What happened was he turned 18 and then 19 and then 20 and grew more and more maddeningly insane and reckless and beautiful and you realized that either he was going to die, or he was going to keep breathing but remain forever out of your reach, and either way you couldn't live like this any more.

But now he's sitting on the bed next to you, almost as naked as you are, holding your hand.

"You want to get some breakfast?" he says.

"I would love some breakfast. Let me shower first."

He gently swats you on the back of the head. "Go on then, Princess. Wash your pretty pretty hair."

The knot of fear that's been squirming in your stomach since you woke up quietly unclenches. And for the first time in a very long time, you think everything might be okay after all.

[validity-is-powerful]

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known - chap. 2

[Masterlist]

Based on this post.

——

Summary: A case comes in for a series of decapitations in Iowa.

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, including strangulation, decapitation, and getting shot

Pairing: Hotch/Rossi

Word Count: 12.2k

Read an excerpt below the cut, or read the full chapter on ao3.

__

Two weeks earlier…

The moon was away. The world was silent. He stood quietly in the alley, gun in hand. He had gone driving around that night looking for his target, and now, finally, he had found him. The man had entered a corner store, but it would only be a matter of time.

He waited, biding his time by watching the corner store intently, watching every movement.

And sure enough, his target emerged. He kept himself together long enough to grab his target’s jacket as he walked by. There was hardly time for a startled cry before his gun struck the back of his target's head, and he collapsed. He hauled the body to his car, which was parked outside the alley. His left leg protested horribly, bone creaking and groaning under him.

He drove. He drove quickly, and he drove quietly. No one could bear witness to this fact. Not now, when he finally had him, there, tied up in his trunk because to leave him in the back seat would mean witnesses, and to leave him unbound would be foolish.

He turned into the grass, ignoring the sign at the gate. He drove. The moon was shrouded tonight, its light thin and pitiful through the crowds. He didn't pity it. The darkness covered him like a friend. He didn't fear it, either. He was the thing that hunted in the dark.

He turned off the engine and climbed out, cursing and gripping the roof of the car when his leg did not want to hold his weight.

He took the shovel from under the backseat and walked a little ways away. The ground was soft enough he could dig easily, so he did. The earth piled up beside the shallow grave he dug. The moon wouldn't tell a soul of his deeds, he knew, the clouds blocked her view. And there was no one else around. Not at this time of night.

The grave dug, he set the shovel down beside it and limped to the trunk of the car, which he unlocked. His target was still unconscious. That wouldn't do. He'd be waking soon enough, though, and that would. He needed to see the terror in his eyes as he died.

He hauled the body out of the car, and dragged it across damp grass to the shallow grave. He laid the body crudely down to rest on its back.

The man did not stir. That wouldn't do.

He waited, slapped his face, even, but he did not move. Only his breathing assured that he was still alive.

He wrapped his hands around the throat of his target, and squeezed. It would have to do, even if it was less than what he had hoped for.

The man under him now began to stir, thrashing and wheezing. But he could move little. There was another man on his chest, and his hands and feet were bound.

He looked down into his target's teary eyes.

"Why are you afraid?" He sneered. Shuddering sobs and futile pleas followed his words. "You think he wasn’t, when you killed him? You think my son wasn't?"

"I didn't…" was the faint gasp beneath him. His target's eyes rolled up into his head as he struggled to breathe. "I don't…"

The man below him went still. And somehow, the hunter knew that his prey, this victim whose chest he sat on, was not who he had been hunting. He should have seen it before. The face was all wrong.

Anger overtook him, and he raced back to the car as fast as his leg would allow. He fetched the saw from the glove box and returned to the body waiting for him in a shallow grave.

If the moon saw, she didn't say.

--

Present day / Day One

"Guys, we've got a case," Garcia said on her way past the bullpen. The four agents seated there perked up, taking in her demeanor.

"This a bad one?" Morgan asked, already halfway out of his seat. Garcia paused, considering.

"Aren't they all? Rhetorical question, Reid, I know. This one's certainly a weird one, and likely going to get worse. Technically not a serial yet, but we've been personally invited by the police force there so you guys are flying out anyway."

*

"Right, so," Garcia began, pulling various images of two men up on the board. "Two men have been decapitated in Gordon, Iowa. Earlier this morning, Seld Collins was found dead in a local park, with his head chopped clean off and thrown nearby. Eight days ago, the first victim, Kegan Woods, was found in a different park, and he was killed the same way."

"They certainly look alike," Rossi commented. Both images were of caucasian men with short, dark hair, but that was where the similarities ended.

"Well, he's willing to cross age lines: they're over twenty years apart," JJ put in. "Woods was twenty and Collins was in his mid-forties."

"Not to mention the difference in socioeconomic status," Reid agreed. "Woods was a sophomore in college working part-time as a farmhand, while Collins was a middle-class business man for a local company."

"They were found in two different parks?" Prentiss asked. The question was directed to Hotch and Garcia.

"Yes," Hotch confirmed. "Mongolia Park and Birch Grounds, respectively. Aside from the exact disposal site, the murders are identical. That's why we were called out."

"That's a pretty distinct signature," Morgan said, examining the photos before him. "And not the sort of thing you see with an amateur."

"Garcia, run the signature through VICAP. He most likely has a record or has done this before," Rossi suggested. She nodded.

"We need to get out there before there's another body," was all Hotch said. "Wheels up in thirty."

--

“Garcia, what have we got?” Hotch asked, looking up from the file he was examining digitally.

“I’ve been digging, but as of yet I’m afraid there are no promising connections between our victims.” The answer came over the videocall back to Quantico.

“But there are connections?” Morgan asked. Garcia nodded.

“It’s a small town, lover boy. Well, small-ish. There’s plenty smaller, this one’s just not big, is my point. There’s overlap between everyone. Two local grocery stores, one of which is really small and seedy-looking, one gym, a library, a school, there’s a handful of cafes and like, the two parks where our victims were found. Everyone has crossed paths with everyone, at some point.”

"Are there any places both men visited often?" Morgan pushed. Garcia nodded.

"Kind of. Both usually visited the same grocery store, the more reputable one. But, when they weren't at work or school, Kegan Woods hung out a lot at the gym and Seld Collins has an impressive list of checked out books from the library, mostly sci-fi and physics with a few self-help books."

"So Woods was physically fit," Rossi mused. "Our unsub has to be as well. Even if he used a blitz attack, and going by the similar blows to the back of head on both victims, I’d say he did, he'd still have to transport Woods' body."

"But Collins is smaller," JJ said, frowning at the images before her. "It doesn't make sense. It's like he can't decide on some of the traits he needs these men to share. If these are surrogates, and it looks like they might be, wouldn't he know who they were surrogates for?"

“We need to know how and why he chooses his victims, then we can find him," Hotch said. "Garcia, keep digging. We need any names that show up repeatedly for both men."

“Garcia out!” Was the reply.

“There doesn’t seem to be any excess injuries to the bodies,” Morgan added, turning one of the photos to look at it from a different angle. “Aside from the removal of the head, they’re practically unharmed. This guy’s not a sadist.”

"They were strangled, that's personal," Prentiss said. "JJ's right, they’ve got to be surrogates."

"He seems to care about his victims, at least once they're dead," Rossi said. "The way they're posed with their arms crossed on their chests indicates remorse."

"So maybe he knew them?" JJ asked. "It's not that large a town."

“The M.E. report for the first victim says that there was no sexual component, though both bodies were found naked," Prentiss chimed in.

“What about the second?” Rossi asked. She shook her head.

“They only found the body a few hours ago, this morning. There hasn’t been time for a full report yet.”

"And why naked? Humiliation?"

"This feels mission-oriented," Reid said, frowning at the photos before them, two dead men with empty eyes staring at the sky.

"And if these men are surrogates, he won't stop killing until he's gotten to his target," Hotch finished. "When we land, Prentiss, Morgan, I want you two to go to the morgue."

"If I may," Reid cut in. Hotch looked at him expectantly. “I’d like to go with them and see what state their necks are in. It’s actually incredibly difficult to decapitate someone, so how he did it could tell us a lot.” He got a nod.

"In that case," Hotch said, revising, "Reid, go with Prentiss to the morgue. Morgan, I want you and Dave to go to the latest crime scene. JJ and I will set up at the station and coordinate with the local police."

Continued on ao3

[themarcusmoreno]

unsteady

an: this doesn’t have a read more bc i don’t know how to do them tbh AND i’m posting from mobile. any errors present are yet again my own. i tried to give my dumbass, baby boy javier what i took away in timing is everything. i suggest listening to this version of the song that inspired the title and i hope that you guys enjoy it, i’m proud of this one. i left this with a possiblity for more, if that’s something you’d like to see let me know! feedback is welcome! //// tagging: @spacedadheadcanons, @bonkybaaarnes, @callingmrsbarnes, @buckywiththegoodglare, @drakecaggiula91, @thatsonehellofajedi, @mando-vibes, @i-like-those-odds, @i-am-forever-a-fan, @fvckingavengers, @ikeatwins776

You found becoming a DEA agent to be an easy task, falling into the training and field work like they were second nature. You made a name for yourself, eager to the fight and quick to solve the issues presented to you. So, when the opportunity came for you to take an open post in Colombia, in Bogotá, you took it. Transportig your life to the new country seemed easy enough but finding your place amongst the senior agents proved troublesome, especially when Javier Peña seemed to be involved. You'd been placed with him and his partner, Steve Murphy. Where Steve had warmed up to you quickly, Javier stayed distant and cold. Every bit the asshole you had been warned he would be.

Over the coming months, you saw small breaks in the persona the man presented. Whether it was when you joined he and Steve for drinks after a particularly rough day or at the "family dinners" that Connie held once a week. You, even in the briefest of moments, got to see a different side of him. One that showed the crinkle of his face as he laughed at one of the jokes Steve shared, the warmth of his smile as he watched Connie with the Murphy’s little girl and even the lingering glance he'd give you as you told stories about your early days as an agent. A smirk played on his lips every time he saw you home safely and bid you goodnight.

"You know if you keep this up I may think you actually like me or something, Peña." A smile spreads across you face as you lean against the doorway of your apartment.

"Now what would give you that idea?" Javier has a smile of his own as watches you, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted upward ever so slighty.

You chuckle and roll your eyes, turning to disappear into your quiet home. "Goodnight, Javier."

A brief wave of somethig like sadness fills his chest as he watces you turn away, his arm aching to reach out and grasp yours but instead he is met with the soft click of your door. "Yeah.. goodnight, cariña." He mumbles, sighing and rubbing his jaw before he backs away to head to his own place just a floor below.

In the coming weeks, you saw more of that change in Javier. Once in him lingering near the entrance of the office long after finishing his cigarette, fresh cup of coffee in hand for the both of you. You hid the soft smile that crept on to your face at the gesture behind your cup, walking along with him as he explaied yet another lead in the hunt for Escobar. You saw it again in him seeking you out after another raid had failed and your team had lost four men. You'd be alone, gathering your own thoughts when the knocking at the door had pulled you from your silence. Wiping your face quickly, you opened the door to him standing there looking no better than you felt. His jaw clenched and eyes tired as he took your appearance in slowly.

"Mind if I come in?" The softness of his request betraying the way his features held such frustration. You gave a slight nod and made your way back to the chair you'd previously occupied. When he speaks again there's something in his tone you can't quite place, concern maybe. "I couldn't find you when we got back. You disappeared and nobody saw where you went. I thought you'd left. I needed - wanted to make sure you were okay."

You were silent a few seconds before you brought your gaze to his, fresh tears threatening to spill. "Would you be? I lost men, Jav. I lost four good men because of a fucking raid I planned." There's a bite to your words, not at the man in front you but at the pain in knowing you'd cost someone their life for something you believed in, something you trusted. A wave of nausea brought you to your feet, the emotions overwhelming. You let the tears fall, not noticing the gentle pressure of Javier's hand on your arm as he pulled you close. You didn't fight him, instead you turned into him and gave yourself over to the sobs that racked your body.

"Easy, cariña. Easy." Javier rubbed the small of your back, holding you close and letting you cry. His heart broke for the pain you felt and the thought of the guilt you carried. "What happen.. What happen today, it wasn't your fault. The best laid plans fall apart every fucking day and I know that better than anyone else. So does Steve. But this, this raid and what happen to those men wasn't your fault. You want someone to blame, you blame me. Not yourself, me. Understand?"

You listened to him, your tears slowing as spoke to you. Firm but gentle. When you did't respond he said your name softly, repeating his question. "Blame me, no one else. Understand?" He gave you gentle squeeze, words slightly muffled by your hair as he rested his chin against you.*You nodded slowly, pulling away from his tear strained shirt, and answering. "I understand but - "

"No buts. You did your job well today and thats what matters for now. Losing men is never easy but we recover, come back harder the next time and you can bet we will. Harder and faster than this time. We'll avenge the fallen and take that bastard Escobar down a peg or two when we do." Javier looks over your face, absentmindedly reaching to brush a stray tear from your cheek. He lets his hand linger before he shakes his head a little and steps back. "You should take the day. I'll get your reports done. Just go home and rest, yeah?"

You don't stop him as he pulls away, don't reach out fo him the way you want, instead you nod slowly and wrap your arms around yourself to savor the bit of his warmth left. "Are you sure, Jav?"

"Positive, miel. Go home, rest and I'll check on you when I get done here." He gives you a soft smile, not hesitating to reach out and brush your hair from your face. "Maybe I'll bring food too."

"Nothing you cook though because I want to survive the night." You smirk, laughing at his look of shock. "Sorry, you're a great agent but a shit cook." When he grumbles a response, you just shake your head and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Jav." You squeeze his arm and smile, glancing back at him before you step out into the hallway.

He feels it then, the unsteady beating of his heart as he watches you leave. The feel of your lips still on his cheek and your scent lingering on his shirt, he knows what it is but he won't say it, at least not aloud. He just sighs, "Shit..."

The month that follows is different, you can't place it but something is different between you and Javier. He's more attentive, checks in on you more frequently. Lingering touches, soft smiles and few too many quiet moments shared for you to keep ignoring whatever may be there growing between the two of you. You don't get to bring it up to him, address the elephant in the room, before another wave of information comes in. Leads you needed to help the raid you, Javier and Steve were planning. Though leery to go out again, your partners encouragement had you eager to finally put a dent in the armor Pablo Escobar thought he wore.

"We've get every possibly scenario covered. Too many guards, too few guards. Nothing in the lab, something in the lab. Civilians present, no civilians present. I'm not saying it's perfect but its about the best damn plan we've had in a while." Steve looks up from the map to the small gathering of men, including you.

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful. Expect the unexpected, I don't want another repeat of last time." Your arms cross over your chest as you look at everything spread across the table. “Everyone gets a vest, everyone has a partner. You watch each others back. We work quickly, we get home faster."

"Well you heard her. Date prisa, go get the gear and be out front in ten." Javier gives your arm a firm squeeze and winks before he joins the other men leaving the room.

You feel his gaze on you before you speak, sighing as you look at Steve. “What Murph?"

"You gonna tell him?" Steve quirks an eyebrow as he pops his gum and rocks on his heels.

Your breath catches and you brush it off as a cough as you start to speak again. "I don't know what you mean. There's nothing to tell anyone."

Steve scoffs, shaking his head as he gathers things from the table. "Uh huh. You keep telling yourelf that, darlin.” He smiles and squeezes your shoulder, "If it helps, he feels the same way. I've been that asshole's partner long enough to know when he's fallen for someone and that someone happens to be you." He heads towards the door, glancing back once more. "Just... Just don't wait too long to tell him. With our job, we aren't always promised tomorrow. But I told him the same thing and so far no one has made a move.”

You hesitate in the now quiet room and let Steve's words sink. Whatever you felt, Javier felt it too. You wouldn't wait past today, you'd tell him as soon as you could. "I'll tell him tonight." With vocal confirmation, you nodded to yourself and went out to join your men.

Javier had been right that day in the office as he held you close, the best laid plans really do fall apart and its usually in the worst of ways. There had been an ambush waiting, a leak from your own department tipping the guards off. You were all outnumbered before you even got there, but when you did you gave them hell. Losing two of your own men as they worked to stop the assault. When the man you'd paired yourself with was taken down, you felt the fear of not making it set in. It make you hyper aware, but not enough. Javier had covered your six after your partner went down, keeping an eye on Steve as well. That's how he saw him, lurking just out of your peripheral vision and coming up fast. The solid body crashing into you was enough to distract you from the shots but when the body didn't hurriedly move, you knew something was wrong. You shifted enough and the body of your protector landed beside you, causing him to groan lowly. You could see the blood pooling slowly, panic rising as your eyes traveled up to his face. Javier.

"Steve, fuck! Steve, get some medic here. Javi is shot, he's bleeding out!" You look around for Steve, locking eyes with him as he brings his walkie to his mouth.

"Necesito abulancia. Oficial de policía abajo." He listens to the feedback and curses. "Goddamnit! They're ten minutes out, he got that long?"

You survey the area of the pooling blood, grimacing at the pained sound Javier produces. "Maybe.. I can't be sure. He took a couple rounds, looks like they went through but its not good. It doesn't look good, Murph." You feel the familar burn of tears as they start to form. Steve's voice fading away as you look down to the soft call of your name. "Jav? Take it easy for me, okay? Try not to move."

Javier blinks softly, the vision of you him above edged in darkness. "Mi sol.." He winces, grasping at your hand as you press it against the wounds. "Oh mi sol, I'm sorry."

His sun. You blink back tears as you look him, cupping his face carefully with your free hand. "Javier, why? Why would you do this?" You don't hold back, letting the tears fall freely. The sound of the ambulance outside not pulling you from the moment. "Javi, why? I don't - I can't lose you now."

Javier smiles, its weak and fading but he smiles as he squeezes you hand and starts to lose consciousness. "This.. This is about keeping you alive." When he starts to drift off, he hears hurried spanish and your cries.

A week. Javier Peña lays in a drug induced coma for a week before he starts to become aware again. Its slow at first, a groan that has you gathering a nurse then a few mumbled curses as starts to fully wake up. You watch him drink slowly from the cup of offered water. Closing his eyes again before he slowly opens them once more to scan the room, you hear his breath catching softly as he looks at you. You don't hear the nurse leave, you don't feel yourself move until your close to his side and his hand is in yours. The warm, tan skin familiar and welcome in your grasp.

You get choked up as you start to speak, the reassuring squeeze of his hand in yours bring the words forward. "I.. I thought I lost you."

Javier's voice comes out soft, raspy from lack of use. "Can't kill me if they wanted to, miel. I'm too fucking stubborn to die." He laughs and grimaces, shifting in the bed for you to have room to sit.

You reach up, rubbing his cheek gently once you finally join him. "Well you at least got the stubborn part right." You tease, wiping your eyes as you look at him. Stubble lines his jaw and chin, his hair unkempt and you know he's never looked better. Never looked more alive.

"What's on your mind?" He questions, running his thumb over your knuckles as he watches your eyes shift over him.

"Do you remember what you said? Before you blacked out?" You work your lip between your teeth before he slowly reaches up and pulls it free.

"Si." He cups your cheek, no hesitation in his movements. "Por qué?"

"What did you mean? 'This is about keeping you alive.' What does that mean?" You lean into his hand, savoring the feel of him against your skin.

Javier shifts, taking his hand from your face and wincing he sits up more. When he's finally up and stable, he leans in presses a soft kiss to your lips. Sighing against your mouth as you return his affection, he breaks the kiss and rest your foreheads together. "It means that I can't picture my life without you in it and I don't want to. I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you that, to tell you I love you."

You smile, matching his own as you kiss him again. "Glad to know it takes almost dying to get you to confess your feelings." You joke, closing your eyes and basking in the moment with Javier. "I love you too and I'm not going anywhere."

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

2. REBIRTH

Rule 1: The human whose name is written in this journal shall die.

This was someone's handwriting. Probably some bizarre joke or elaborate social experiment. "What the fuck is this," Erik mumbled in disgust staring at the words. Someone's sick sense of humor? He reclined in his leather chair waiting for someone to tell him he was being recorded. Looking at the office phone on his desk, he anticipated the ring. At any moment, Gloria would call up and he'd return the prop to whatever production, laughing it off while refusing to sign the release. He checked his watch. Any minute now. His fingers drummed on the desk in wait.

In the meantime, the first few pages of the journal had been ripped out. Whoever dropped this book had obviously taken out what they didn't want to be seen and they'd left instructions on the inside of the front cover along with some foreign symbols, symbols Erik had never seen before.

Rule 2: This entry will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

"An elaborate prank," he mused. "Someone has way too much time on their hands." Flipping through the blank pages, he closed the journal and tucked it into his black Burberry London suitcase. Out of sight, out of mind. Reawakening his computer, he decided to split his new tasks into smaller responsibilities and divvy them out to his staff including the task of updating the user control panel for the network. He could be home in time to surprise Mika for dinner afterall.

🎶 I spent my whole life tryna make it, tryna chase it/ The cycle of a black man divided, tryna break it/ You take a loss, shit don't cry about it, just embrace it/ Minor setback for major comeback, that's my favorite/ My nigga L said, "You do a song with Nip, K. Dot he a better Crip"/ I said, "He a man first, you hear the words out his lips?/ About flourishing from the streets to black businesses?"🎶

Turning off the engine, Erik let down the garage door and exited the vehicle walking through the front door of his Rockridge craftsman home. "BABY," he called stripping off his black wool blazer to drape over his arm. Immediately he heard footsteps rushing in his direction before his woman appeared, colliding into his chest.

"Oh Captain, my Captain," Mika swooned. Her glasses were fogged and her auburn dreads were in a messy bun on top of her head. Her eyes were dewy and mildly pink. He shook his head, putting it together.

"Again?"

"It was either this or go to the protest and you forbid me to go. Besides, it's like therapy for me," she sighed. "Dead Poets Society and Good Will Hunting.. Don't look at me like that. I needed to be elevated! Too much bad news," she frowned. He knew exactly what she was feeling. He felt it too. He followed her into the kitchen where his plate sat covered in aluminum foil. It was still warm since he wasn't late like she'd expected. Kissing Mika on the forehead, he draped his blazer on the back of his chair and set the table, opening the bottle of Pink Moscato he'd purchased on the way home to pour two glasses.

"Tell me about this case."

"Well I told you about the police brutality. You've probably seen the hashtags by now. Erik? I wanted to cry. I took this job to stop shit like this and now it's happening right under my watch in my city. I knew that cop, Erik. And now when I look at him I wonder what that badge means to him--What mine means. Without it, would he shoot me like he shot that boy?"

Erik chewed silently, letting her question hang in the air. They both knew the answer, he didn't have to speak it and make things worse.

"I had a horrible case aside from that.. I've been trying not to think about it, but--" she sighed rubbing the deepening crease between her brows. "I saved a little boy today.. he was eight years old and now he has to go into the foster care system because his dad killed his mom and his sister. I-- I was too late to save them."

"You saved one and to that one, it makes all the difference."

"Now that we have the father in custody, he and his lawyer are claiming that the murders were due to a mental illness and he's got the prior diagnosis to support it. If he gets off in court because of this, I will scream. Erik, I will shoot him myself. He took a baseball bat to a child's head, Erik. A twelve-year-old girl."

Laying down his fork and knife, Erik stood walking around the table to squeeze and rub Mika's shoulders, smoothing out the balls of tension. Her head rolled and she exhaled, her body relaxing. His lips pressed gently into her jaw and he dropped to one knee, pulling her fork from her hand and grabbing both of her hands in his.

"Mika? You are great at what you do and no one could've done it any better. You saved a boy's life today and you didn't kill the other two, he did. That's on him, not you." He kissed her knuckles as her soft eyes gazed upon his. The rest of dinner went by with lighter conversation. He let her go on as long as she needed to talking about Robin Williams and his therapeutic presence in cinema and after doing the dishes, it was time to retreat into his office as was his usual routine.

He booted up his computer and logged into his emails. There were four new ones of importance relating to business. His work was never done it seemed. Reaching into his black suitcase, he pulled out a gold-colored flash drive, but paused when his fingers touched the spine of the leather journal. Who wrote this shit?

Rule 3:  If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.

Rule 4: If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

Rule 5: After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

He had to take it in. The cursive semed to be written in something similar to ink but not quite. "These dumbass rules." Imagine someone sane coming up with something as ridiculous as this.

The black pen on Erik's desk shined, daring him to pick it up as his eyes flickered between it and the blank page. Nah, Erik, chill. You buggin out right now.

Erik grabbed his computer mouse, clicking to wake the computer. Clicking onto his favorite internet browser, he typed in the name of the boy who'd been shot by the cop earlier in the day. Jayson Miller. Noting various tweets, posts, and videos, he paid especially close attention to the protest that was happening in the neighborhood. Police were lined up and it was a matter of time before the National Guard got involved. He searched to find the name of the cop who'd shot Jayson but his name was protected. He decided he'd watch through the videos instead. That didn't turn up much.

An idea struck him. He knew he probably shouldn't, but the fact that he could do it and get away with it made him do it anyway. From his computer, he dusted off his old skills from high school and early college, cracking into Mika's work assigned computer from his own. He was able to easily hack the police database and find the cop on duty when Jayson got shot. Picking up the pen, he jotted down the name.

Phil Mathers.

He'd seen the guy a few times himself. Phil seemed the type to do something questionable for a few bucks and a vacation. Reading the report written by Phil himself, it read like the typical "he had a weapon" rhetoric of fear. It was as good as an admission of guilt.

"Fourty seconds to die? We'll see."

He waited for the report to come of Phil's death. Anything. Then he realized, he probably wouldn't hear about it so soon. He decided to cruise the internet in search of another current crime before stopping short realizing the most obvious option. Holding his pen, he wrote the second name.

Ronald Clump

Counting down silently, he leaned back in his chair to watch his screen. He'd refreshed the page and clicked around about six times.

"Well, guess that settles it.. This some old bullsh-"

The President of the United States suffers a heart attack.  9:22 PM.

The pen dropped from Erik's hand rolling into the floor as he gaped at the screen. A quick search showed two more sources confirming that the president had indeed passed.

"What the fuck? Nah. No. This isnt real. That was a coincidence, his old ass was in his last days. No." Jumping up, he paced the floor in disbelief. "He was gonna die anyway, it wasn't me." Stroking through his beard anxiously, he looked over to the journal sitting open on his desk. It was impossible. It didn't make any sense. He had to try it again--just to see. Because no way did this old journal have anything to do with what just happened. That would make him a murderer.

One more time.

Shutting down the computer, he moved to the bathroom he shared with his girl, showering, brushing his teeth, and running the electric massager through his scalp. When he got to bed, Mika was sitting up watching a stream of the protest. He gently took the phone from her hand exiting the stream and placing the device on a charger. He could feel her annoyance. If she couldn't be at the protest, she wanted to at least see it to feel that she was there. "Give your mind a rest, Mika. You've consumed enough death and destruction for a day." That seemed to give her pause as her face turned thoughtful, a small sigh releasing.

"You're right," she conceded laying on her side. He climbed into the bed beside her, looking her in the eyes. "Erik, I'm tired."

"I know. So am I."

A kiss on her forehead led her eyes to shut and soon he felt that she'd drifted off to sleep. After fifteen more minutes, it was clear that she had. Lifting from the bed silently, he walked into the closet pulling a pair of North Face joggers and a matching hoodie. Over the hoodie, he wore a black North Face vest and and black leather Saint Laurent Lenny sneakers. The journal, he tucked into the vest with a pen clipped inside.

While Mika slept, it was time to put the journal to the test. He swept downstairs and through the front door pulling off in his matte black Audi R8. Destination: Fruitvale.

Tag list: @muse-of-mbaku  @goddessofthundathighs  @panthergoddessbast  @thadelightfulone  @misspooh  @marvelmaree  @youreadthatright  @forbeautyandlife  @theunsweetenedtruth  @bidibidibombaclaat  @myboyfriendgiriboy  @dameshaemonique  @blackpantherimagines    @vikkidc  @hidden-treasures21  @mysidefanting  @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat  @syndrlla97  @winteroflife  @thotyana-in-this-hoe    @texasbama  @gingerylimonte  @princessstevens    @magic-madness-heavensin  @wawakanda-btch  @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade  @wakanda-inspired  @blackgirloneshots  @thegucciwaffle  @thiccdaddy-mbaku    @purplehairgawdess  @indigoxsummers  @cccccx1    @dynastylnoire  @iamrheaspeaks  @blowmymbackout   @they-call-me-le  @theblulife  @raysunshine78  @sheisexcellent @fd-writes @soufcakmistress @ju5tp34chy

[verobatto]

A road too hard to walk

Sam's leadership journey

14x15 Peace of Mind spoiler. Sam's meta

Hi! I'm here again, this is my fourth meta (ugh!) About the last episode Peace of mind.

This meta is dedicated to the Anon who requested me more Sam meta, so this is four you! 💕💕

If you want to read my other metas ABOUT this episode, here are the links.

I made a promise (Castiel's meta-Destiel meta)

Did you noticed the difference? Sam/Cas vs Dean/Cas

Kissing you goodbye. Lovers separation (Destiel meta. Visual narrative meta)

The boy with a dream

We know Sam's destiny from the beginning was to rule an army and Hell. To be a leader. But he always was the rebellious child, it was obvious he wouldn't fulfill any forced destiny.

The idea of follow a different path grew strong in him, that's why he decided not to join his father and his brother and having a normal life.

He really tried, but again his truly destiny was chasing after him from the very beginning. And he was dragged again into the hunter life, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to fullfil his revenge, as his father did. Repeating his father story, even if he had disapproved him.

Gif credit @stardustcas

The boy with a destiny

When Sam came back from the dark side, from drinking demon blood upgrading his psyquic powers, there was still another destiny chasing after him: LEADERSHIP. But not just any leader, but Hell's king, as Lucifer vessel.

Although every cell of his body fought against his destiny, he ended by saying yes to Lucifer, using all his strengths to take control over his own body helped by family love. And he jumped into that Hell's hole, saving the world and receiving the redemption he deserved. He is a hero.

Pic credit @spn-idjits-guide-to-hunting 👇

The man with a mission

In season 12 we finally saw him as a leader. It was just one episode, but Sammy showed us his skills in the leadership. And it fits him perfectly. I think we all know that the whole time. Because Sammy is an innate leader. He is smart, strong, he evaluates each decision and he has this empathic way when he talks with people.

In season 14 we saw Sammy's leadership in all it's splendor, he even had developed a system to keep the connection between hunter and the bunker, filming the missions and reporting constantly.

Dean was amazed and felt proud of him, but also Sammy received critics and judgment from AUBobby in 14x05, representing John Winchester btw, and showing Sam's inner fears for being responsible for so many people's lives.

Gif credit @yorusgolden

But a leader will always receive critics, for his position, and bc all his decisions affects a group.

A man with faith

He always is looking for another way out, even when things are hard, he is the one keeping hopes up, searching, investigating. He is constantly fighting, and rarely he give up, because he learned to fight till the end from his brother, and even from his father too, whom never gave up trying to get revenge.

In the beginning of the show, firsts seasons, he was a very angry character, affected by demon blood and the pain of loosing Jesse.

After being in hell and solving the soulless issue, Sammy developed a very calm mood, always trying to help people, and empathizing with them. Showing a virtuous strength, which had helped him to resist in the cage the tortures from Michael and Lucifer.

He is very controlled about what he feels, and moderate in showing it. But there's situations he had been going through, mostly these last season, in which we had seen him broken.

Recalling when they losing Mary by the end of season 12 (after saying to her he felt complete having his mom with him), losing Jack (his adopted son) in 14x08, trying to convince Dean to not use the Mal'ak box in 14x12 and losing all his "army" in 14x14. Every one of these episodes had something in common: IMPOTENCE. When Sam feels he can't do something to fix things, he breaks. Beacuse he is the one solving the situations, doing research, trying to figure out things, but when he sees there's no way out, he breaks...

Talking about "Peace of Mind"...

In the last episode, Sammy was again in that emotional state in which you could say, he was about to break. Having visions about your dead friends in the bunkers isn't something that happens like nothing. He was struggling inside with his "failure as a leader" , so he tried to run away from the place that Remember him his failure and his impotence.

When we saw the poster from "Charming Acres", and we had two excelent meta about it from @drsilverfish here and @poorreputation here. I first saw the color (yellow, related with Sam). So that will be the place where SAM COULD REACH A FAKE HAPPINESS AND A FAKE PEACE OF MIND FROM ALL HIS GHOSTS.

The man with a destiny

As we had been talking about, Sammy fights against his destiny, but he ends always by embracing it, against his will... This season begins like this...

Sammy naming himself as new King of Hell, maybe not being so conscious about the height of his own words... He is embracing symbolically what he was rejecting all his life. Fullfil his destiny.

Please check the following spec I wrote about Sammy, is here, because this clues I saw in the last episode, supports my theory...

So... We had

The boy King destiny ruling Hell

Sammy "losing"? His powers as psyquic

The psyquic girl in season 12 and Sam talking with her about his psyquic past thing.

Season 12 leader of hunters episode.

Season 14 episode 5 Sam talks about that psyquic old man from season 8.

Season 14 call back to season 4 and 5 (Sammy's destiny again)

That post in episode 300 an eye inside a triangle with the word psyquic on it.

Season 14 begins with Sammy "accidentally" naming himself as the new King of Hell.

The last episode was about a psyquic.

Coincidences? I don't think so, this proves Sammy's destiny is many chasing after him again. Let's see.

A man with a family

So Justin Smith was living a "happy" life, Sammy wanted to scape from the hard and sad reality he was living, and that was perfect for him. Brainwashed, new life, the life he wanted in his past. Lying to himself. The mind control was strong... Till CAS appears again.

And there's three olives on the martini, and not just two, as always... (Letting the menáge a troi meaning, I found it very interesting Sam pointed WE ARE THREE DEAN, CAS AND ME)

And there was that beautiful parallel with 10x22...

Gif credit @agusvedder

Gif credit @angelkurenai

Castiel, the best friend Sammy ever had, is who made him break from mind control mentioning him: FAMILY (JACK AND DEAN) AND HIS FAILURES AS A LEADER empathizing with him, he talked to Sam as a Commander to another Commander, as a friend to another friend, and as a brother to a brother. Mentioning KEEP FIGHTING, It's a call to Sam's essence. FAITH, KEEP FIGHTING, FINDING ANOTHER WAY, KEEP FIGHTING. That's what brought Sammy back. His family, his mission, his destiny, his choices.

To conclude

Sam is a hero, he had walked a path full of pain and hard moments, but that's what built in him the grown up character we are seeing now.

He is a generous, empathic, smart, insightful person who not matters what, keeps his faith and keeps fighting.

He can break when he feels IMPOTENCE, and he is always searching for another way to solve situations.

He had always fought back his destiny, but the story showed us he ends doing it anyway (like leadership).

I would love to see him in a big role as getting back his powers, would be interesting beacuse the improvement of his character was huge, and adding his psyquic powers to it plus the little detail he named himself (accidentally) as King of Hell could lead us to a wonderful end game for him.

I hope you like it, is my first Sam's meta here, so please feel free to comment.

I'm preparing too a post with the two huge specs I have, with all the clues I could recollected with the help of my friends.

C-u! 😘💕

Buenos Aires March 18th 2019 9:48 PM

Tagging @metafest @gneisscastiel @mrsaquaman187 @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @agusvedder @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @castiellover20 @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @cheerstofandomfamily @drsilverfish @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel

[casual-penguin-bouquets-pos-blog]

Little Sister

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader(no incest), mention of Sam x sister!reader(no incest)

Summary: The Winchesters' little sister feels like a burden and Dean comforts her.

Warnings: Crying(should that be considered a warning???), sadness, a bit of angst , thought of being a burden, i think thats it (let me know if there's anything else I should include in the warnings)

Requested: yes/no

A/n: This is the first fic I've written, so bare with me if its a bit cringe worthy. It would also be a tremendous help if you were able to give me a little bit of feedback on how I can improve. Also, check out the bottom of the post and send requests!!! Thanks and ily! 🖤💚🖤

Tears flowed down your cheeks as you walked into the old, dirty motel you and your brothers were staying in. The three of you usually try to make the sleeping situation work. The boys usually get the beds and you have to sleep in the dirty, smelly, stained couch. But you don't always mind. In fact, you almost never care. As long as your brothers are somewhat content, you are too.

Like you expected, they weren't there. You know they weren't at a bar because its only 3:27pm, so you assumed they were doing their usual routine. Dean questions the victim(s) and witness(es) while Sam is either with Dean or doing research in a nearby library.

You sat at the table and pulled out your binder and textbook to start on some of the homework your science teacher assigned. You started to work, but also started to struggle. You couldn't focus. Your mind was blank. No thoughts, no feelings, no emotions, nothing. Just emptiness. You knew what this was, but your brothers didn't. You knew you had some kind of depression and anxiety, not as bad as it could be, but its not something that you think will just pass in a few days, or even weeks. No... this has been with you for probably about 6 months and your brothers don't suspect a thing. You want to keep it that way too. You don't want to have to be even more of a burden and have your brothers worry even more, so you kept quiet. You wiped away your tears and sat up straight, and attempted to finish your work.

"Oh hey, y/n." Dean said, walking into the motel room in his FBI suit.

"Hey" you mumbled back, not wanted to talk.

"You okay, bug?" He said with concern in his voice.

"Yeah, just tired." You used the lie that everyone uses, not putting in any effort to make up a different lie.

"You always say that. That's not true is it? You're not actually tired, are you?" Crap... he's catching on...

"Uhh, no, I'm really just tired. I swear." Now your anxiety was coming into play. You don't know how he'd act if he found out.

"Don't lie to me. I know something's wrong. There's been something off about you for a while now. You know you can talk to me and Sam, right? We're here for you."

"Yeah, I know I can talk to y'all, but it's hard to sometimes." I'm just gonna get it over with and tell him. What could go wrong, right?

"I know what you mean. When I got out of Hell, I refused to talk about it. But then Sam reminded me that we're family and we're here to take care of each other. So, y/n, please tell me what's going on."

"You really want to know what's upsetting me?"

"Yeah, I really do. I wanna make sure that you're okay."

"I think I'm a burden to you and Sammy. I feel like I'm just in the way. You always worry about me and you take care of me and make sure I'm getting good grades and eating and getting sleep but you shouldn't have to. You shouldn't have to worry about me. I don't matter. Not like you two do. You two have saved the world more times than I can count and I know that you'll continue to do so until you breathe your final breath. But me, I don't do anything. I sit here, in the motel room doing homework or something that has absolutely nothing to do with the case." You were almost sobbing by now, while Dean watched you rant with tears in his green eyes.

"Y/n... that's not true. None of th-" He started to talk, but you cut him off.

"No! Don't lie to me! Don't pity me and tell me that it's not true when you know it is!" You hated being pitied. It made you feel worse about yourself.

"Y/n! Calm down and let me talk." You knew he only yelled to get you to calm down, so you weren't worried that he was mad.

"O-okay." You wiped your tears with your sleeve and and tried to control you breathing as both of you walk over and sit on one of the beds. Dean wraps his arm around, you and you feel of his tears land on the top of your head. He's crying... because he cares.

"Y/n, you are not a burden. Not even close. I think I can say that you are the best thing that has ever happened to both me and Sam, okay? We worry about you because we want what's best for you. We make sure you get good grades so that you can go to college and do something with your life. If Sammy was here, I know he'd tell you the same exact thing. And believe it or not, me and Sammy have talked about it. You going to a good school and everything."

You look up at him when he said this. "Really?"

"Yeah, we both agreed that we want you to get through highschool and go to a good college. We want you to get a good job, find a guy that we approve of, and mabye even have a couple kids. We want you to get out of this life y/n. That's why we never ask you to go on hunts or help with a case, because we dont want you to get even the slightest bit involved more than you already are. You deserve better than this, y/n."

You shocked to say the least. You always thought that they didn't want you around, kr didn't want your help, but they just wanted better for you. If you were being honest, everything Dean just told sounds like Heaven to most hunters, but you're a Winchester, so you're not 'most hunters.' You would enjoy being out of this hunting life, but you know it won't happen. Again, you're a Winchester, so no matter what you do or where you go, something will follow. Knowing this, you make a sudden decision.

"Dean, we both know that won't be possible. Trouble follows us wherever we go and no matter what we do, we wouldn't be able to get them to leave us alone. It sounds lovely, having an apple pie life, but it won't happen. Instead, I want to help. I want to help save the world with you guys. I want to train, to do research, and to go on hunts with y'all."

Dean looks at you with sad eyes, knowing tjat you're right. You won't be able to have such luxury because of what you do and what your father dragged the three (more like four but they forgot Adam ) of you into.

"You're right, but we just want what's best for you. We want to make sure that you stay safe at all times. We want you to be protected."

"I know, Dean. That's why you and Sammy can train me, and show to do things. I can start by helping Sam with research and you can teach me how to you a pistol and a rifle, and we'll start out with the little things. Then, eventually, I'll be able to go on hunts with y'all."

"I can't make any promises, ans don't get too excited, but I can talk to Sam and see what he thinks about your little plan. I don't thinks it's that bad of an idea, but me and Sammy have to agree, okay?"

You don't have much to say anymore due to the fact that you just let everything that you kept bottled up for a while out, so you simply say "Thank you" and hug him tighter than you have in a while, and bury you face into his neck, feeling safe in your brother's arms.

THE END

Please send requests!