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awkward-and-indecisive · 3 years

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The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn’t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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y0itsbri · 3 years

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gallavich week 2021 - day 7 - meet ugly

thank you to @ianandmickeygallavich for the inspo // @gallavichthings

Prompt: Ian and Mickey are neighbors in an apartment complex. They haven’t ever interacted, but one day they get stuck the elevator. One of them doesn’t like confined spaces but doesn’t share this so the other one assumes he is freaking out for no reason.

Words: 3.5k

"I'm going out tonight, dickbreath!" Mandy announced, popping her head out of the bathroom. She was wearing a short sequined dress, fitted tightly to her body and only halfway zipped up so it slipped part way down her shoulders.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't!" Mickey called from his recliner in the living room with an Old Style in hand. Work has been absolutely kicking his ass this week and he wanted nothing more than a chill night in.

"Oh, c'mon, now that's no fun. You don't do anything," she accused.

"That's not true!" Mickey grumbled, remote in hand and flicking past some news channels onto some good shit -- finally. Rerun of Jurassic Park.

"What're your plans for the evening then, hot shot?" Mandy teased as she applied yet another layer of mascara on her already blackened eyelashes, "Dinosaur movies all night?"

"Might go to the corner store for some smokes."

"Please get something to eat while you're at it. We have like nothing in here." She waltzed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and grimaced. He could admit that a grocery run was, in fact, long overdue.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Serious, Mick." Mandy gave him the look. The Look being the same Look that his mother used to give him when he was being a little shit.

Fine. "Got it. I'll eat something." She smiled at that.

"Thank youuu," Mandy dragged the word out as she leaned over to kiss his forehead.

"Gross."

"Ditto. Zip me up?"

Mandy had headed out awhile ago -- long enough ago that Mickey was now halfway through his second 'dinosaur movie.' He should really visit his dinosaur guy again soon, he's probably got some cool new shit. Mickey sighed and got up, idling over to the kitchen.

He downed a full glass of water and opened the fridge. Yeah, unless he wanted to eat a pickle with ketchup and beer, he needed to go out. He debated ordering in, but he needed to go to the corner store anyways. Two birds one stone kind of situation.

Mickey threw on his favorite pair of sweatpants and his Davie Bowie tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. It was a good shirt. Mickey thought Bowie was hot -- fuckin' alien-looking, but hot, nonetheless.

Mickey shoved his wallet and phone in his pockets and locked up his apartment. Maybe Ernie would have the good roast beef sandwiches today.

His thoughts about dinner plans subsided as he noticed the guy waiting for the elevator.

Mickey had seen the ginger around. He was hard to miss -- fuckin' tall, always going out for runs early in the morning in short shorts and coming back all sweaty, always had a million fucking people coming and going from his apartment. They lived on opposite ends of the hall, but Mickey had never actually spoken to him before.

Mandy had given her brother lots of shit for acting so goddamn unapproachable and that's why he has no friends. Mickey didn't want to be friends with everyone, but he wouldn't mind spending some time with the hot red-head down the hall... eventually.

But he was waiting for the elevator with him right now. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact in fear that it would lead to small talk which would then lead Mickey to inevitably embarrass himself. He couldn't blow his shot. Mandy did the small talk, not him. He took out his phone and scrolled through Instagram even though none of the photos were loading.

He hardly looked up when the elevator arrived and he stepped into it, leaving plenty of space between the two of them. Maybe it was an unreasonable amount of space, but it still wasn't enough for Mickey. He could still smell the guy's cologne. And it was infuriatingly attractive.

"Ground floor?" The man's voice practically sent heat down Mickey's spine. This was going to be a long ride.

"Uh, yeah." Nice, Mick. Not embarrassing at all.

"Great." It hung in the air, a tinge of awkwardness to it.

Out of the corner of his eye Mickey could see the the man leaning against the elevator wall, crossing his ankles as he not-so-subtly stared Mickey's direction.

Mickey was running out of things to check on the his phone and he was about to give in and finally make eye contact when he felt a shift. Then an ungodly clanging of metal. And a stop.

Fuck.

He glanced up at the dial. Sure enough they were stopped between floors, and not at all near the ground.

"The fuck?"

"What?" The red-head locked confused eyes with Mickey's.

"We're stopped. Why the fuck are we stopped?"

"Hm," The guy poked around at the open doors button and nothing happened. "I don't know."

All hopes of positive small talk was out the window as Mickey went into full panic mode. He did not like small, confined spaces -- which happened to be exactly what his current predicament entailed.

"You open the doors!" Mickey practically shrieked.

"Why me!?" The attractive guy spit back.

"You work out and shit -- do I look like I could pry those fuckers apart?"

"Well..." The red-head took a moment to size up Mickey's smaller form. "Yes, you do actually- but these doors are heavy as fuck. We don't have like super strength."

"Fuck you."

"Uh, fuck me!?"

"Yeah, fuck you. Not even tryin' and now we're both going to fuckin' die in here. Any last words, Red?"

He rolled his eyes. "We're not going to die. Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"Don't you think you're being a little too calm considering we're stuck?"

"Oh. You're freaking out."

"No shit I'm freaking out, Sherlock." Mickey ran his hands down his face. This was not fucking happening to him right now.

"Hey, take deep breaths."

"Can't. Gonna die." Mickey gasped.

"Well, if you can't breathe, you're definitely going to pass out."

Mickey shot him panicked eyes.

"Hey, hey it's okay. Just look at me."

Mickey could do that.

"Copy me. In-" He inhaled, chest expanding.

"Out-" Mickey felt his breath on his face. In any circumstance, a stranger breathing on him would warrant a punch in the gut, but now it was more grounding than anything else. They repeated that motion a few times.

"Good. See, you can breath."

"What are you? A fuckin' doctor?" Mickey huffed a laugh in disbelief.

"Been to enough," he chuckled.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. But, uh- look, see, I'll hit the emergency button and someone will come get us soon. It'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive. Got stuck in one of these with my sister when I was little, kinda scary at first but we were out in practically no time. She sang to me to pass the time, but I take it you don't want me to sing to you?"

That earned a full-bellied laugh from Mickey, "Not yet."

The man grinned goofily like a golden retriever.

They were silent for a moment.

"So, uh, what's your name?" The red-head asked, gazing curiously at Mickey.

Mickey just stared back at him.

"Your name?" He repeated gently.

"Mickey."

"Mickey," He said it so soft like a prayer. "I like it. I'm Ian."

He had no idea what he expected, but it wasn't Ian. Ian was fitting, though. Ian was good.

Ian had hit the emergency button a few times for good measure while Mickey had tried to call Mandy to no success. They settled onto the floor, leaning against opposite walls, feet nearly colliding in the center. Neither made a move to completely avoid that.

After Mickey had calmed down a bit, they fell into bouts of comfortable conversation and comfortable silence.

"I thought you just hated me." Ian mumbled after a bit.

"What I hate is being trapped here." Mickey stared at the walls threatening to enclose around them. He closed his eyes so he didn't start to panic again.

"Even before this."

"Oh?" That was news to Mickey. That was never his intent.

"Yeah, I always see you around, but you never seem to see me." Ian looked to the ground when he said it.

"I've seen ya plenty. You're the dork with the short ass shorts."

Ian smirked, "I guess I am."

"Hard to miss, man."

"You too. I've wanted to say hi for like months, but you always looked like you were ready to snap me in half or something. I kinda like my limbs in tact."

Mickey swiped his thumb against his nose and sniffed, embarrassed, "Sister says I scare everyone away. Used to be a good thing."

"Sister... wait, wait, wait, hold up. You're Mandy's brother, aren't you?"

"You know Mandy? Oh god, you're not banging her, are you?" That would throw a wrench in his plans.

"Oh god, no!" Ian threw his hands up in a mock surrender like that was the most repulsive thing he's ever heard.

"Something wrong with my sister?" Mickey grew defensive. She may be a lot to handle at times, but she was still his sister.

"No, no, she's great! 'm just not into... well, uh- I'm- let's just say that if you had a brother, maybe I'd be banging him." He grimaced.

Watching Ian stumble over his words after being so confident about everything else was a bit amusing.

"Oh -- cool." Mickey wasn't used to such obvious disclosures about sexuality with strangers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mickey avoided all eye contact.

"So?"

Ian paused until Mickey was able to look at him again.

"So, what?"

"Do you have any brothers?" A playful flicker in Ian's eyes made it obvious that he was just being a little shit now.

"You're an idiot."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't answer my question still."

"Yeah, I have brothers, but they'd uh- let's just say definitely not be into that."

"And you're... not not into that?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. His lack of denial was basically a confession and they both knew it.

Ian smirked and knocked the toes of their shoes together.

Help announced itself to be coming soon over the tiny intercom embedded in the elevator. Sometime shortly after that, Ian had made his way over to the wall next to Mickey's, rather than across.

"Where were you going tonight?" Ian asked, turning to fully face Mickey.

"Nowhere." Nowhere interesting at least.

"Really? So you just take an elevator down to nowhere?"

"Alright, smart ass, I needed to get dinner. Gonna be a late dinner now that's for sure, fuckin' starving."

"Shit."

"What about you? Got a hot date or something?" Mickey eyed him up and down. Ian's outfit wasn't fancy by any means, but he still looked damn good in it.

"Oh, I wish," he winked, "Just going on a walk to clear my head. But this is working just as well."

"Good for you, man. My head is fuller than ever."

"What're you thinking about?" Ian's heavy breath practically bounced off his face. His gaze flickered to Ian's pouting lips. This was ridiculous.

Kissing you. Kissing you. Kissing you. "Nothing."

"Riiiight." Ian's eyes mimicked the same trail that Mickey's had just followed.

"Yup."

Ian scooted closer to Mickey and he swore his heart was beating so loud that even Ian could hear it. If he could, he made no indication. Instead, he eyed Mickey's hand resting on the floor. Gently, careful not to spook him, he caressed Mickey's fingers, nearing his tattooed knuckles.

Mickey fought the urge to yank his hand away. No one ever touched him so delicately, so sweetly. He figured that Ian would have guessed that, seeing his crude tattoos, but he wasn't acting like this was strange. So Mickey let him.

"Fuckin' hate them." Mickey murmured, watching Ian's fingertips tracing over the back of his hand.

Ian frowned.

"The tattoos."

"They're you. I'm sure they have a story."

"Wish I could forget it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have a pair of tits on my shoulder."

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?!" Mickey pictured literal tits growing out of the man's back.

"Here, look," Ian turned, pulling his shirt up, revealing an insanely toned and insanely freckled back. Surely he was not about to be flashed in an elevator. But sure enough, tattooed on his shoulder was a pair of double-D's.

"Shit! Dude, what the fuck is up with that?" Mickey laughed.

Yeah, this made him feel better. At least he didn't have fucking titties tattooed on his knuckles, though he was sure someone in his family must have something like that. They're fucking idiots like that. Like Ian, apparently. But Ian was good.

"It was supposed to be my mom." Ian winced, pulling his shirt back down to cover it again.

"Mom must've been a banger." Mickey joked, still hardly containing his laughter.

"Ugh," Ian groaned dramatically. "Never gonna live that one down."

He threw his hands back on the ground, near Mickey's but not touching this time.

Experimentally and slowly, so slowly, Mickey hooked his fingers with Ian's and rubbed his thumb against Ian's hand. It was calloused, but so soft. It was a movement so gentle he hardly recognized himself, completely contradictory to the message literally written across his hands.

He was practically holding hands with a man in an elevator. Oh, if dear dad could see him now.

Moving out of his hell house with Mandy had been a good step, but it had taken Mickey years to unlearn his self-hate, allow himself to be. He still wasn't perfect, and he still felt years behind. But with Ian, it felt normal. It felt right and warm.

Right then, he felt the elevator shift again. He tightened his grip on Ian's hand. Ian returned the hold. If he was going to die, at least he wasn't going to die alone.

Mickey realized that they weren't falling down, but rather moving upwards.

They released their hands and leapt up to their feet as the door dinged open, revealing a small staff of maintenance personnel, not looking at all concerned that two men had just been trapped inside for an unspecified amount of time.

"Fuckin' finally!" Mickey ran out. He resisted the urge to drop to the floor and kiss the ground. He was dramatic, but he wasn't that dramatic.

Ian thanked the maintenance people then hurried along beside Mickey. They weren't on their floor, but they sure as hell weren't about to take the elevator again after all that.

"Hey, Mickey, wanna come back to my place? I think I still have some leftover lasagna if you're still hungry."

Mickey checked the time. Yeah, Ernie's place was definitely closed by now. Plus he really did just want to go back to Ian's. He glanced up to see Ian in almost full puppy-dog eyes. The dork was needlessly persuasive, he'd give him that.

"Yeah, sure. I could eat." He grinned like an idiot.

Ian nodded his head towards the stairwell, holding the door open for Mickey, who obediently followed up the steps.

Ian's apartment wasn't too different than Mickey and Mandy's, mirrored and maybe smaller, but it looked oddly inviting and definitely way more lived in -- almost too much décor and family photos hung up around the space.

"Uh, make yourself comfortable," Ian called as he rummaged through the cabinets, grabbing a couple plates to reheat some food for Mickey and himself.

Mickey was no stranger to feigning confidence in unfamiliar locations, but this felt different, more genuine. He actually respected Ian, the man having been kind and patient with him in a less than ideal situation.

He sat himself on the barstool at Ian's countertop and watched him. The gorgeous man who he had been eyeing in secret for months, who had helped him through a small panic attack, who had held his hand and traced his tattoos like they were art. Like Mickey was art.

"So, Bowie, huh?" Ian leaned against the counter, waiting out the timer on the microwave.

"What?"

"Your shirt," he pointed, and Mickey looked down.

"Oh, yeah. He's cool as fuck. Dope music."

"Got great hair, too."

"You would think so."

"Self-love, baby."

"Good for you." But there was no edge in his voice.

Ian smiled. The microwave beeped and they settled in, eating together with nothing but the awkward clanging of silverware and chewing. Mickey was too fucking starving and too fucking tired to care about formalities to give a shit at this point.

"Bet you didn't think you'd spend your night eating lasagna with a David Bowie look-alike, huh?" Ian teased over a mouthful of pasta.

"You wish, man."

"Hey, it's at least a little true."

"Yeah, you're both fuckin' aliens."

"Maybe so, but at least we're hot."

They both smiled around their forks, glancing over at each other a little too frequently with nothing but fondness.

Ian collected their plates when they were done, taking them over to the sink to wash them later. Mickey got up and followed him into the center of the kitchen, still sipping on his beer before setting it on the counter to his right.

In a move that shocked Ian, and even himself, Mickey moved into Ian's space and pressed his chest against Ian's back. He wrapped his arms around Ian's waist, feeling up the plains and softness of his stomach, feeling his breath hitch and his heart beat faster. Mickey's warm breath bounced off of Ian's neck and back onto his own face.

Ian sighed and placed his hands over Mickey's again. He leaned his head back onto Mickey's shoulder for a moment before wiggling free from Mickey's grip enough to turn around and face him, carding one of his hands through Mickey's dark hair.

"Mickey." He said it so soft. With so much admiration. Mickey couldn't take it anymore. He leaned up and pulled Ian's head down so they were the same height.

"Fuck, c'mere," he murmured, lips practically touching Ian's with the words.

Ian pressed their lips together. For all his gentle touches throughout the night, his kiss was anything but. Like he needed him to breathe.

Ian pushed him backwards towards the living room, stumbling over each others' feet in the process. Mickey greedily pulled down on Ian's neck, desperate not to let him go. Ian smiled into it and dropped backwards onto the couch cushions, pulling Mickey on top of him, making out like dumb teenagers.

Eventually, they settled and Mickey rested his head on Ian's chest while Ian rubbed his back and head comfortingly. Truthfully, he was beginning to panic a bit. He hadn't liked anyone in awhile, and Ian was very hard to not like.

"Are you good?"

Fuckin' mind reader.

"I don't know." Smooth, Mick.

"You don't know what?" Ian probed gently.

Mickey sighed, "How to do this," he answered honestly. There was no point in lying to Ian.

Ian kissed Mickey's forehead, "We can do this any way you want, alright? No rush, no pressure."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely," Ian scratched Mickey's head for a moment, "I've been waiting for you for awhile, Mick, I'll wait for however long you want."

Mickey leaned into his touch and then kissed his shoulder, "I want you, this."

"Me too." They smiled into each other. Safe together.

Neither made a move to push things further for the night. Ian had flicked on the tv to the same channel Mickey had on earlier, the Jurassic Park marathon still playing. After whatever movie was on now, Mickey decided he should head home. He was utterly exhausted after the day, and as much as he liked Ian, he didn't want to pass out in the guy's apartment -- though he was sure Ian wouldn't mind at this point, kind bastard.

After Ian had pulled Mickey into one last embrace, Mickey wretched open Ian's door, only to come face to face with his sister, makeup smudged and heels in hand after her night out.

She gasped way louder than fucking necessary, "You slut!"

"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled pushing past her to head back to his own apartment.

"See ya later, Mick!" Ian called down the hall. Mickey didn't respond, but Ian took no offense. To be fair, he had just been caught red-handed by his very dramatic bitch of a sister.

Mandy grinned and looked between Mickey's retreating form and Ian's blushing face. "Oh my god, Ian! I knew it!"

"Hi, Mands." He ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck.

She gave a cheeky, knowing wave goodbye and took off barefoot after Mickey, "You fucker! I want all the details!"

"You ain't gettin' 'em, bitch!" He stormed inside, but left the door open for her behind him.

Mandy threw her shoes on the floor and met up with him in the kitchen, punching his arm lazily so he spilled his newly-opened beer down his hand. "The fuck?!"

"I'm so proud of you!" She made grabby hands at Mickey in attempts to smush his cheeks, but he weaseled out of there quick enough to avoid her gross hands. She may be fuckin' drunk, but she was still quick.

"Yeah, will well ya stop screaming it from the rooftops. Ian's gonna think I'm a fuckin' loser."

"Awww," She chased after him as he headed down the hall, "You are a loser, but that's besides the point! I've been waiting for this for weeks!"

"Night!" Mickey shut his bedroom door in Mandy's face. She'd get over it in a minute. Hell she was probably well on her way to passing out already. Maybe she'd get some details out of him tomorrow.

But tonight -- he reveled in the fact that he spent the night making out with his very kind, very dorky, very hot red-headed neighbor.

And when Mandy eventually moved out from their apartment and in with her girlfriend, Mickey had absolutely no problem finding a new red-headed roommate.

#gw2021 #gw2021day7 #gallavich week 2021 #shameless #gallavich #my posts #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey

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sunlit-squid · 3 years

Note

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

#sbsp #my fics #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #spongeward #spongebob #squidward #ask #asks #sunlit-squid

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dramaqueeenamby · 3 years

Text

Waves: The Read

A/N: I am a shady bitch, and I regret nothing. Also, if ya’ll remember, Mercedes is Summer’s publicist/manager. I mentioned that in a few waves, so don’t get confused, friends!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2K

Masterlist

TAGS: @notacamelthatsmywife @babe-im-bi @liquorlaughslove @letsshamelessqueen-m @missyperle @valkryienymph @tashawar @mani-lifes @missdforever @hello-therree @toni9 @queenshikongo3

"How many solos has my sister had?"

The room grew quiet, all eyes on the speaker. They’d just finished a number, or rather, Finn and Rachel had just finished a number. The rest of the students served more as props than singers. Ad-libs only constituted so much.

Mr. Schue’s smile dimmed. Slightly. "W—what?"

Alexus shrugged, motioning around the room. "Or any of the kids whose names aren’t Flipper or Rachel?"

"It’s Finn."

"I don’t care," she dismissed, eyes still on the instructor. "I’ve been here a whole week, and not once have I seen someone other than Cher and Sonny score solos."

Mr. Schue scoffed, crossing his arms. "Now, hold on a second, I treat all my students fairly. Any student is allowed to audition for a solo—"

"And how many who have auditioned actually received one, other than your prized pupils?"

Mercedes stood up. "Alexus—"

"No." Alexus lifted her hand and looked over at her sister. "This isn’t right, and you’re too kind and understanding to say anything, so I will."

"You’re out of line, Alexus."

She laughed, looking back at him. "Out of line? I’m not one of your little students, and you’re not going to shut me down like you do them. I’m going to say what I want and need to say, and then I’ll leave, but you’re going to catch this read, first."

"And, cut!"

Summer broke from character and offered Matthew a fake smile before turning away and catching Amber’s gaze. They shared an unspoken exchange, one that caused Amber to laugh after Summer rolled her eyes.

Summer didn’t know why she was so weary about accepting this role. Only 10% of it was acting, the rest was her actually reading the problematic cast members, which was all but a handful. But, to fulfill her petty side and get paid?

It was a double win.

Summer noticed Ryan was speaking with Lea, which ignited another eye roll. She was the guest star, not that Barbara Streisand wannabe. Still, Summer counted her blessings, because she could only take Ryan in small doses. He wasn’t as bad as his prized actress, but it was the fact that he allowed her to treat everyone like shit that made her think less of him.

Perhaps she was spoiled in the sense that every other director she’d had the privilege of working for would never tolerate such behavior. She had to accept that Hollywood was a game, and the rules changed constantly.

"Someone was having fun," Mercedes, Summer’s assistant chimed, coming to walk beside her.

Summer feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Mercedes smirked. "Yeah, right. You weren’t acting. You were giving them all a piece of your mind."

Summer retained her smile as they reached her trailer, Summer opening the door so Mercedes could enter first. "Are you trying to insinuate that I was using my job to tell these people how I really feel?"

"I surely was."

As soon as the door closed, Summer confessed. "You know me so well."

The two laughed. "Girl, you know Lea is probably complaining to Ryan right now."

Summer sucked her teeth. "You know she is." Walking over to the kitchenette area, she turned on the Keruig and opened the drawer to select a pod. Her hand ghosted between the caramel and the dark magic, before she settled for caramel. "That black bitch—"

Mercedes snickered. "You sound just like her."

Summer frowned as she insert the pod and selected 8oz. "God, you’re right. I have to have to get out of here."

Smiling, Mercedes swiped down to refresh her emails. "Hey, look at it this way, you keep up this level of performance, and you’re a shoe-in for that Primetime Emmy.

The idea of adding another award to her resume was more than enough to keep Summer focused and dedicated. As a dark skinned black woman, she had to work ten times harder just to remain 20 steps behind. Anything she could do to push herself, she cherished.

Summer added creamer and sugar to her coffee, blowing before taking a sip. "After this, I need a quick break."

Mercedes hummed. "Umm, about that—"

"No."

"Summer—"

"No, Cedes, I’ve been working back to back since I scored 4AM, I think I’ve earned a little vacation time."

"I don’t disagree." Mercedes raised her hands in surrender.

"Thank you," Summer nodded, taking another sip of her coffee.

"But—"

"Here you go."

"I’m just saying, I’m hearing rumors about a potential role that’s gonna start casting in a couple of months."

Summer rolled her eyes and brought the mug to her mouth. "And?"

"And." Mercedes also rolled her eyes. "It’d be perfect for you."

"Mmmhmm."

"Summer," Mercedes lowered her voice. "It’s Storm."

Summer narrowed her eyes. "Storm?" Mercedes nodded. "You don’t mean—"

"X-Men Storm? I surely do."

Summer gasped and covered her mouth. "Bitch!"

"I know!" Mercedes giggled, shushing her client. "So do you see why I want you to keep your options open?"

Summer downed the remainder of her coffee and washed her mug in the sink all the while still stuck on the information she’d been told. "Do you really think I could be Storm?"

"Summer, please, you won an Oscar for your first Hollywood role. You’re a shoe-in."

"What about Shipp?"

"Shipp can skip her ass off somewhere."

The two women laughed when a knock on the trailer door prompted Summer to walk over, opening and smiling when she saw Amber. "Hey girl, come on in."

"I wish." Amber rolled her eyes. "Lea’s ready to start filming again. I mean, Ryan is ready to start filming again."

"You’ve got to be kidding me." Summer checked the watch on her wrist. "It hasn’t even been twenty minutes."

Amber sighed. "You know the saying. She says jump. We say—"

"Trip, bitch."

Amber laughed, as Summer looked back at Mercedes, pointing a finger. "This conversation isn’t over."

Mercedes winked at Summer, the two actresses sauntering back onto set.

Summer wondered if Lea had been listening outside her trailer, because it seemed as if Ms. Michele was purposely antagonizing Summer. Any scenes they had together, Lea would abruptly call cut and give Summer "pointers," all the while Ryan sat in his chair and said nothing.

Summer, forever the professional, managed to keep her composure, but there was only so much she could take.

Finally, when it came time for Summer to film her final scene, she saw an opportunity.

"Alright, and action!"

"I just want you to know that despite your distasteful behavior toward me, I hold no animosity and hope that one day you can release your unwarranted rage, and we can be cordial once I’m on Broadway."

Alexus turned to Rachel and tilted her head, crossing her arms. "I don’t like you. Never have, never will."

Rachel’s smile faltered. "Well, I-I’m sorry you feel that way, but--."

"Let me explain something to you, Berry. This is Lima, Ohio. The biggest thing we have going for us here is Breadstix, a restaurant chain that’s been on it’s last leg since that lawsuit filed by the kid who got two breadsticks stuck up her nostrils."

"I’m much better now."

Alexus ignored Britany and continued. "So, I’ll give you this, this small town notoriety and fame, because I know and you know, that once you actually make it out into the real world, reality is going to slap you so hard, you won’t need to have a nose job."

"Alexus—"

"Your stardom is limited to this pathetic town and its almost entirely pathetic population. And don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at manipulating and controlling individuals, because you can. For now. But, let’s be real, your voice isn’t anything I haven’t heard coming from street singers in NYC. Face it, you don’t have the talent nor the looks to make it into this big star you think you’re going to be. NYADA?" Alexus laughed. "Maybe you’ll make it, I doubt it, and even if you do, once you realize how utterly mediocre your narcissistic ass truly is compared to real talent, you’ll come crying back to Lima and spend the rest of your life working nights at Breadstix while watching reruns of Funny Girl on a goodwill VHS player." A beat. "Now, how’s that for raining on your parade?"

"And, cut!"

——

PRESENT TIME

"Christopher, stop!" Summer laughed as Chris came from behind and lifted her up against his solid frame. "I’m trying to do my makeup."

"You don’t need it," he murmured into her neck. "It’s going to end up all over the pillows anyw—"

"Sir!"

"Autumn."

"Would you please leave me alone?" Summer managed to wiggle herself free from her husband, flipping him off when he slapped her ass. "I am a human being."

"Allegedly."

"Alleged—lemme stop before I end up going to jail." She leaned over and examined her skin, feeling for the tackiness to see if her primer had settled. "This is why I can never do my makeup right. If it’s not him, it’s the twins."

We wanna see the babies!

I don’t get it. Why is she always so mean to him???

^^^^You must be new around here…

What makeup do you use?

Summer caught the last comment and grabbed her foundation and concealer, flashing them on the camera. "You know I have to support my girl, Ri. It’s Fenty Beauty all day everyday over here, ya’ll."

More comments came rolling in, Summer partially paying attention while she tried to do her makeup. Chris was taking her out on a date, the first they’d been on since the birth of the twins.

Summer was actually excited. She was in much need of alone time with her husband.

She grabbed the Snap shadow and blending brush when she noticed majority of the comments kept mentioning Lea Michele.

She didn’t even attempt to hide her distaste. "Why are ya’ll asking me about that girl? Did something happen?" Different stories were coming in prompting Summer to do her own research. "Baby, can I see your phone?"

Without hesitation, Christopher jogged into the bathroom, grabbing onto Summer’s hips while she typed Lea’s name into google.

Five minutes into reading, Summer slammed his phone onto the counter.

"Finally!"

"You’re paying for that," Chris muttered, grabbing his phone, thankful that it wasn’t cracked.

"Sorry, baby." She leaned up and kissed his cheek before looking into her phone. "Ya’ll, okay, most of you should remember I played Mercedes sister, Alexus, on Glee, right?" A wave of "yes" rolled in. "So, I’ve worked with the bitch, and I am not exaggerating when I say bitch. That heifer is literally the worst person I have ever had the displeasure of working with."

Summer pushed Christopher out the bathroom, in case her adding onto the Lea Michele drag train somehow ended up bad. "Now, I’d heard she was a nightmare, but I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt."

"But, literally the first time I walked onto set and introduced myself to her, she looked me up and down, turned up her nose, and walked away." Summer clapped and covered her mouth. "It took everything in me not to call her ass out, but it was my first day, and I didn’t want to cause a scene."

"Obviously, I was a recurring star on the show so I would make appearances throughout the series, and each time I was there, she treated me, and everyone around her, like trash."

"Okay, but here’s the real tea, you know that read Alexus gave Rachel in season 3? That wasn’t in the script." Summer laughed at the comments. Her fans were freaking out. "My line ended when I told her I didn’t like her or something, but it was my last day of filming, and I’d literally had enough of her."

Even more comments came rolling in of laughing, frog, and tea emojis. Summer sucked her teeth and placed her hand on her hip. "Ya’ll, her white ass thought she was gone’ be a thirty something Maria from West Side Story on broadway." A beat. "Somebody had to let her know!"

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth x black!reader #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x black!oc #fic: waves

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soyforramen · 3 years

Text

28. i’ve been crushing on you for so long and when i get your name in secret santa i decide to write you a love note except there’s a last minute shuffle with people trading and my gift is given to someone else (bonus: ot3! ot3!)

I know this was a prompt sent in by @arsenicpanda, but lord help me if I can find the ask.

“So, who’d you pull for Secret Santa?” Fangs asked.

Betty picked at her sandwich. The reminder of Cheryl’s forced Christmas cheer drove away what little appetite she had. Nervously, she glanced over at Jughead who seemed oblivious to her internal struggle. When he glanced at her, she smiled and shoved her sandwich towards him.

“Veronica,” he mumbled through bites. He shot Betty a glance, a concerned warning that he’d be making sure she ate later.

“Cheryl,” Betty said miserably. “I don’t even know what she’d want.”

While she and her cousin had been on better terms now that the babies were older, it was still rocky. Alice Cooper and Penelope still hadn’t learned how to co-grandparent, forcing Cheryl and Betty to work together to avoid a Hatfield and McCoy situation for every holiday."

“Something red,” Fangs said with a laugh.

“Or stupidly expensive,” Jughead added.

Betty sighed and stared out at nothing in particular. Between finals, editing the school paper, and Christmas shopping for her own family, not to mention the long list of things she hadn’t managed to get to this month, it looked more and more like she wouldn’t be getting much sleep until the New Year.

“If you wanted to stare at me, all you had to do was ask. I'll send you as many pictures as you want.”

Betty’s eyes refocused to find Toni sitting across from her. Her knowing smirk made Betty flush. Suddenly, Toni was all she could see, bright eyes twinkling with mirth and her lips temptingly full and pink. Before Betty could stammer out a response, Jughead laughed and slung his arm across her shoulders.

“Toni, are you flirting with my girlfriend?”

At the reminder of his presence, Betty squirmed and stared onto the old picnic table. Guilt crawled across her skin; after all, Toni hadn’t been the only one flirting lately.

“Have been for a while Jones,” Toni shot back with a wicked grin. “You gonna do something about it?”

Betty held her breath, waiting for an irritated response or jealous sulking, but instead Jughead threw his head back and laughed. The sound shook out the tension that had suddenly risen within in her, and she couldn’t help but join in with him. When she glanced across the table, Toni shot her a wink. This time Betty’s skin crawled with something far different than guilt.

It was the last day of finals, and Cheryl had finally rounded everyone up. A vast array of presents, the wrapping of each a reflection of the giver, was piled in the center of the common room. Betty’s was meticulously wrapped, a hand made bow sitting on top. Archie’s was wrapped with more tape than paper, and Jughead’s had been thrown into a plastic shopping bag. Veronica’s was wrapped in expensive, holographic paper, no doubt wrapped at a chic New York boutique, while Kevin’s sat in a reusable tote that proudly thanked him for his donation.

“Can we get this over with Cheryl,” Veronica said over a latte, “I have an economics test in fifteen minutes.”

“So much for holiday cheer,” Kevin said in a soto voice.

“She’s even wearing Grinch green,” Fangs added.

“Do any of you humbugs have any holiday cheer?” Cheryl asked. She set her hands on her hips as she surveyed them. “No? Then how about we make things extra interesting. We’re all redrawing names.”

A collective groan rang out. Not to be discouraged, Cheryl picked up the first gift, a small package topped off with tinsel.

“Archie, pour vous.”

Before he could take the package, Toni leapt forward and grabbed the package.

“Sorry Red, you'll have to take a rain check,” she apologized, ignoring Cheryl’s harsh look. When Cheryl started to object, Toni said, “You’re the one who changed the rules on us.”

Cheryl huffed. “Fine, I’ll allow it just this once. But anyone else who tries it -“

She let the threat hang in the air before reaching for the next present.

“And this one will be for …”

Betty watched Jughead pack from the comfort of her bed. Outside the snow fell, it’s soft plinking noise lulling her back to sleep.

“Are you sure you have to be in Ohio the whole time?”

He turned, smiling, and kissed her on the forehead. “Jellybean’s been threatening me since August that if I didn’t come up there she’d drag me there herself.”

Betty reached out and grabbed his flannel shirt, pulling him back for another kiss. “I’m sure I can fend her off.”

“I’ll miss you too," he said.

His eyes were so soft when he looked at her like that. It was almost enough for her to volunteer to drive him to his mother’s. Almost. Knowing that they had holidays to spend together years from now made it easy enough to let him leave today. That, and the fact that if she did go she’d miss the twins’ first visit Santa. (And, worse than that, she'd have to hear about it all second hand from Cheryl).

“Why don’t you ask Toni to hangout? She wants to go see that weird alien movie you've been gushing about,” Jughead said, turning back to his luggage.

All of the warm, gooeyness that she’d felt evaporated immediately. Desperate to relieve her discomfort, Betty pulled the blankets tighter around her. There wasn’t really a reason she could give as to why she could say no; after all, they were part of the same friend group and they did get along splendidly. Not to mention the inappropriateness of admitting to one’s long term boyfriend that you had a maddeningly, infuriatingly, deep crush on someone else.

“Maybe," Betty said while she picked at a loose thread.

Then again, maybe spending more time with Toni would cure her of this crush; after all, it had happened with Veronica and they’d settled into a close friendship, one Betty wouldn’t give up for anything.

“Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone,” Jughead said, picking up his bag and helmet.

He kissed her cheek and Betty mumbled out an ‘I love you’ that felt just as real, just as strong as it ever had. A few minutes later Betty’s phone chimed and she saw a text from Toni. Betty groaned and burrowed deeper into her bed.

“It’s fine, really. I can walk. It’s only a few blocks,” Toni repeated as she pulled on her jacket.

Betty glanced out the diner window. Outside, drifts of snow were quickly growing.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Betty replied.

Despite the tension that had been building up within her, despite the fear (exhilaration? increasing desire?) of being alone in such a close space with Toni, Betty couldn’t let her walk home in this kind of weather. Even if their friendship hadn’t grown deeper over the past week and a half she still would have made the offer.

“Are you worried about me, Cooper?” Toni teased.

“Yes.”

The smile fell from Toni’s face. She searched Betty’s face, and finding what she was looking for, smiled softly at her. It was so similar to the one Jughead had given her before she left that Betty had to look away.

“Alright. Lead the way,” Toni said.

Pop’s bid them a good night on their way out, and they braced themselves for the cold. Impulsively, Betty slipped an arm through Toni’s. After all, they were friends now, closer than they had been. She did this sort of thing with Veronica all the time, though unlike with Veronica, Betty only found her crush on Toni growing deeper.

“So, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Toni shrugged and stepped closer to Betty. “Same thing we always do. Watch reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life with Grandpa and eat too much. You?”

“The Blossoms invited us over for Christmas dinner.”

“Yikes,” Toni said with a slow whistle.

Betty pulled out her keys and opened up the passenger side door. Toni nodded her thanks and sat down. A minute later they were pulling out of Pop’s parking lot.

“I take it you and Cheryl are running interference?” Betty nodded and turned on her blinker. Despite there being no one on the street, it was a ingrained habit that made Toni smile at her.

“Something like that. Mom’s convinced they’re going to cancel last minute to make us host it, so she’s been on a cleaning and decorating rampage this past week. But the kids love that Cheryl’s been staying with us.”

“That’s good. I'm down there. ” Toni pointed to the right side of the Sunnyside Trailer Park. “The most drama we get is when some idiot decides to shoot off firecrackers at 4 am.”

Betty laughed and pulled in next to the trailer surrounded by half rebuild cars. She sat on her hands to keep from rushing out of her car and checking the models of each.

“Well, this is me,” Toni said.

Betty nodded, unsure of what else to say. In her peripheral vision she saw Toni pull something out of her bag.

“You were supposed to get this at Cheryl’s Christmas exchange,” Toni said.

She held out a package with crushed tinsel wrapped around it. When Betty looked closer she realized there were different kinds of vintage cars driving along a highway, each with a pine tree strapped to the top. Glancing at Toni, she gently pulled the paper apart. She almost fainted when she realized what it was.

“Toni, this is too much, I can’t -“

Toni held up a hand. “It’s really nothing. I just got lucky at the thrift store and thought of you.”

Betty stared at the first edition copy of The Secret of the Old Clock, scared to open it least it fall to pieces in her hands. A paper peeked out of the pages, and she gently tugged it out.

‘Merry Christmas Betty!

Thought you might like this (and don’t forget to check the inside cover before you put it under glass).

From,

Your Secret Admirer.’

Upon reading those words, Betty couldn’t help but keep the smile from her face. Something like this was so heartfelt, so personal, she couldn’t help but want to take Toni into her arms and thank her profusely. Opening the book ever so gently, Betty gasped at the author's faded signature.

“Toni -“

Her voice had taken on a tone of anguish. Torn between her loyalty and the sudden tenderness she felt, Betty was at a crossroads without a map.

“Is this about Jughead?” Toni asked. Betty whipped around to look at her. With a gentle smile, Toni wrapped her hands around Betty’s.

“Call your boyfriend.”

Betty squinted at Toni, unsure. Was Toni asking her to choose between them? As if reading her mind, Toni laughed. She slipped the book out of Betty’s hands and set it on the dash.

“Call your boyfriend, Coop.”

Frowning, Betty pulled out her phone and dialed Jughead. With every ring, her heart beat more painfully against her chest.

“Hey, happy Christmas Eve eve,” came Jughead’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?”

She could her him shifting in the background. “No, we were just watching the worst movie of all time.”

Jellybean yelled out in the background and there was a scuffling as the phone exchanged hands.

“Break up with him, Betty, he has no taste.”

“Santa’s Slay should never had been made,” came his tinny voice. A second later and his voice was as clear as if he were sitting next to her. “What’s up?”

“Toni’s with me, and -“

“Oh, she finally gave you her Secret Santa gift?”

Betty’s eyes drew together and she glanced over at Toni. “You knew she drew my name?”

“Actually, I drew it, but -“

“You?”

Jughead’s chuckle was throaty and deep. The sound of it sent shivers down her spin in much the same way that Toni’s look did right now. “She wanted to trade, and neither of you have been subtle.”

“But -“ There was a silence that hung in the air as Betty processed what was happening. “Do you mean -“

“I’m secure in our relationship Bets. If you want to, then you have my blessing.”

“Oh.”

He laughed again. “Merry Christmas Betts. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, her voice sounding far off.

The line went dead and she sat there, watching the falling snow. It felt as if her chest were going to explode. The world had expanded three times since she’d first picked up the phone and suddenly it felt as if there was a wealth of new possibilities open to her.

“Well?” Toni asked, breaking Betty out of her reverie.

Betty turned to her slowly, taking her all in. Setting her hand on the console between them, Betty slowly leaned in, hesitantly touching her lips to Toni’s.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I really like my Christmas gift.”

Toni wrapped her hand around Betty’s and tugged her closer. “Than you’re going to have to do a better job of showing it than that.”

#toni/betty/jughead dynamic #ot3 #listen this took far too long to get done #but here's christmas in june

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jiminscaramel · 5 years

Text

cream of the crop | changkyun [mx]

[GENRE] smut, fluff

[COUNT] 4.4k+

[PAIRING] fem. reader x Changkyun (I.M)

[WARNINGS] f2l, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, cream pie, hair pulling, overstimulation, cockwarming, choking if you squint, multiple orgasms, edging

[AU] f2l au

[A/N] as requested by anon however I’m not too keen on how it turned out? I think maybe i crammed too much in such a short space of time and a small word count. I hope you still like it though and who knows! It might be up for a rewrite or a part 2

Something isn’t right.

Changkyun frowns, watching you speak within yourself – your chin lowered to your chest and your eyes avoiding contact – which is highly irregular. He knows something is eating away at you but for reasons unknown, you hadn’t yet shared what it was. He leans forward to take a sip of his milkshake before settling back in the booth and nudging Jooheon beside him.

“...so yeah. Dinner was whatever.” You shrug nonchalantly, picking at a basket of fries, which had gone stone cold.

“Don’t eat those,” Jooheon slaps your hand away and flags up a waitress. “I’ll get some more.”

“So how is he? Your boyfriend? You’ve been dating for what, a few months now? When do we get to meet him?” Changkyun pries gently into the sensitive topic of dating. Being your best friend, he’s been there through pretty much every relationship you’ve had – casual, serious and one night stands – and vise-versa. But he’s also seen the grisly sides, comforting you through the worst breakups, the most recent one happening just before you’d met David.

You shrug again, stirring the melted ice cream in your glass with your straw, staring lifelessly into the chocolate concoction. “He’s not my boyfriend. David is David. And I’m sure we can arrange something soon.”

Though Changkyun remains unconvinced and the further the conversation takes you all, the more he thinks he understands. “You don’t seem so happy about the whole idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” You deadpan, staring out the window.

An awkward silence fills the space as the waitress places a fresh basket of fries to share between the three of you. Changkyun thanks her before leaning forward, trying to catch your attention. “Something’s wrong.”

“No shit,” Jooheon quips, eyes glued to his phone screen.

“You’re not helping,” Changkyun fires back, pushing the fries in front of him. “Shut up and eat your fries.”

“Fuck you.” Jooheon laughs and tosses his phone on the table, pushing the fries back to the centre. He leans in too, his attention no longer preoccupied by the device in his hand. “So... What’s on your mind?”

The answer to that is a lot more complicated than you’d like to admit. Your hesitation isn’t because you don’t trust them and isn’t because you feel uncomfortable sharing your worries. In all honesty, you have no idea why you’re so hesitant; you’ve always been able to tell them anything. Absolutely anything. So why is this so different?

You take a deep breath and eventually open your mouth to speak. “I’m frustrated.”

Changkyun and Jooheon both stare back at you blankly, silently blinking as they wait for you to elaborate.

“David... is nice. I suppose. He’s just...” you blow out your cheeks, trying to find the right word. “Boring. In every sense of the word.”

Changkyun cocks his head to the side, studying you intensely, while Jooheon slouches back in the upholstery, arms folded over his chest.

Unsatisfied with the lack of reaction, you lean in closer. “His idea of fun is sitting in and watching cheesy sitcom reruns until late, with or without me. His ideal date is always some snobby, posh restaurant on the other side of town. The other day? I set up a blanket fort in my front room for us to cosy up in for when he came round and you know what he said? ‘I’m not a kid anymore’. I felt like such a fucking idiot.” You trail off, already aware that you’d shared much more than intended. But the embers still burn, all the frustration and upset igniting the flames.

“Not to mention that on the very few occasions we’ve had sex, I’ve never– never– you know...” you clear your throat and gesture with your hands to insinuate what you can’t voice aloud.

“A little TMI, but yeah,” Jooheon nods and you notice a little pink tint across his cheekbones.

“He just... rolls off me and falls asleep. And it’s always the same, mandatory, routine, boring sex. Pull my hair or something, choke me, I don’t know–”

“Ok, that’s definitely TMI,” Jooheon picks up his phone and starts scrolling through his feeds, but you know it’s more out of embarrassment than ignorance. You know he’s still listening.

Changkyun remains silent, his jaw clenching as he listens to your complaints with an understanding ear.

“But you know what I mean, right? There’s no passion. There’s no spark, there’s nothing. There’s just David. And me. It’s like we’re not even an item. We’re just two separate people who meet up to ‘fuck’ and pretend there’s a relationship outside of that. Christ, what a fucking mess.” You slump back, deflated but feeling a lot better than you had a few minutes ago.

“You’re right,” Changkyun says, smirking. “He is boring.”

Your heart stutters as you interpret his response the wrong way, implying that Changkyun is more than capable of fulfilling everything your date lacks. But you can’t possibly think of your best friend that way. That was crossing too many lines, despite the fact that Changkyun had become the standard to which you held men up to. And David was sure not up to standard.

“He seriously turned down a blanket fort?” Jooheon questioned, peering around his phone.

You nod, a little sadly.

“You know what this calls for?” Changkyun rapidly taps his hands on the table top in a quiet drumroll.

“I can’t, I’m working.” Jooheon mutters.

“David won’t–”

“Y’all haven’t even heard what I’m gonna say!” His shoulders drop and his hands stop tapping. “And honestly, fuck that guy. Fuck his opinion and fuck what he has to say. I know he’s your boyfriend–”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You interrupt.

“–but I don’t like him. Just to be clear.”

“You and me both.” Jooheon adds.

There’s a pause before you finally voice aloud your true feelings. “Me three.”

Your phone rings and the caller ID displays his name. Plain and simple; no love hearts no emojis. No commitment. You decline but shoot him a text with the dreaded four words ‘we need to talk’.

“I need to go,” you sigh and stand up to gather your things, hugging each friend goodbye. Changkyun reaches down to embrace you and squeezes tight with affection, silently worried about how things will turn out for you. He starts to pull away but you hold onto him for a minute more, savouring his warmth and comfort.

The week passes by, with little importance. The breakup had been easy, effortless and it had definitely affected him more than it had you. If anything, you feel liberated, no longer obliged to suppress parts of your character to please someone else. You feel good about the whole thing.

But it doesn’t help the feeling that tugs at your heart in the small hours, the loud thoughts that crash around in your head. Why is it so difficult to find someone who understands you? Why do all your dates end up less than expected or just simply incompatible?

Your phone jumps to life beside your keyboard and your hands freeze in midair. You save your work and close the window, getting up to answer the call elsewhere. “Kyun, I’m at work.”

“I know, I know,” he sounds a little out of breath. “I’m sorry. Are you free after work?”

“Well I mean, I had a date with Netflix and my ice cream tub so I don’t know...” you tease, a small smile working the corners of your mouth.

He laughs into the receiver. “Well how about Netflix and ice cream at mine?” If you’d known any better, you’d think he sounded nervous.

“Sure,” you agree, surprised. It had been a while since you’d spent time at his and a frisson of excitement courses along your skin at the thought of possibly being alone with him. “Is Jooheon coming?”

“I’ll call him but he’s been really busy these days. I’ll let you know.”

You thank him and say goodbye, wary about your unattended desk and how that might look should your boss walk through. But before you can hang up, Changkyun shouts into the phone, “Oh! And wear something comfy!”

You arrive a lot earlier than expected, out of nerves or excitement, you can’t tell, fully kitted in sweats and a loose-fitting pullover. But Changkyun answers the door all the same, smiling broadly and sweeping you into a tight hug, before inviting you in. The place seems a bit dark, lights dimmed and blinds drawn before nightfall. You reach up to flick the light on as you slip your shoes off in the hallway, offering the bag of ice cream for Changkyun to take and freeze.

“You a vampire now? Why is it so dark in here?”

He immediately flicks it back off. “It’s a surprise.”

“You should know me by now. I hate surprises.” You mutter, following him into the kitchen. The door to the front room is closed, blocking your view and you grow more suspicious.

“I’ll freeze this for a bit before we bring it. We can dig into this instead.” He pulls out a sharing tub of chocolate fudge ice cream and places yours in the freezer.

“Sounds good,” you reply absently, heading towards the closed door. “Can I see what’s in there now. My curiosity is killing me.”

“Close your eyes.” He instructs, pulling out two spoons from the drawer and coming to stand behind you.

“No.”

“No one’s gonna jump out at you, I promise.” He reassures you, thinking back to the many times he and Jooheon have pranked you.

“That’s what you said last time.” You remind him.

“I promise.”

“So Jooheon isn’t on the other side of that door, ready to pie me when I walk in?”

“He’s coming later, he’s on a late shift.” Changkyun seems genuine enough and despite his history of pranking you, you trust him.

“Fine.” You give in and close your eyes, letting his cold hand slip into yours.You try to ignore the way your heart picks up at the simple contact but he squeezes your palm reassuringly and without thinking, you squeeze back. He gently pulls you along instructing you to be careful where you place your feet, but you know the layout by heart. You hear the door open and squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

Just as promised, there was no one else here. You faintly hear the sound of trailers playing on the Netflix start screen, waiting for a movie to be selected. He closes the door behind him and lets go of your hand. You feel his presence leave and move elsewhere in the room, fabric rustling.

His voice is low and inviting as he instructs you to open your eyes. They flutter open and you blink several times to adjust to the low light – or lights. Several fairy lights are strung up around the room, glowing softly, giving the impression of lit candles. They wrap around the sofa and curl around the fort in the middle of the room–

The fort.

Changkyun lays inside, his long legs poking out from the makeshift entrance, his weight propped up on one elbow. The blankets are pulled over several pieces of arranged furniture to create a colourful canopy and countless cushions line the inside. He’d somehow moved his tv and draped more blankets across it so you could both watch movies inside, without having to cram around a small tablet screen and there was plenty of room in there for all three of you.

Your hands fly up to your chest as you take in the sight, the sheer effort he’d put in to create the perfect blanket fort... just for you. “This is... so much better than the one I made.”

He laughs, a sound so refreshing and so ebullient. You crawl in beside him, a wellspring of praise falling from your lips, complimenting each and every detail. You feel tears well up at the back of your eyes but hold them back. You don’t want to ruin the moment.

“I figured, you know... that you should... embrace the things that make you happy. And so what if it’s a childish thing? Some of my fondest memories have been in blanket and pillow forts.” He shrugs and tears the lid off the tub, tucking into the already soft ice cream, avoiding your gaze.

You nod in agreement and feel your throat tighten again. It’s only a simple thing, a simple act of kindness, yet it means so much more than he could possibly imagine. You’re lost for words as you stare at his profile, in the least subtle way. He notices and holds the tub towards you in offering.

But instead you lean in and plant a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.

It’s tentative, yet daring, a toe over the line to test the waters. Though you don’t know what it is you’re supposedly testing. Your friendship? Your boundaries?

“Thank you,” you breathe, pulling away to sit up but his hand slowly threads itself in your hair, behind your head. He holds you there for what feels like forever, finally meeting your eyes and boring into them. They sparkle with questions, the reflections of the fairy lights masking the raw emotion behind them.

And so to answer the first of his many silent questions you lean in again, kissing him for the first time.

He’s hesitant but gentle, his lips soft and secure. You press deeper into the kiss, eager and sure, ready to speed things up. Your mind races a million miles per hour, your heart struggling to keep up. You feel light headed but his grip tightens in your hair, the sharp pull grounding you.

A little whimper escapes your mouth in response and Changkyun takes the opportunity to pry your mouth open wider, his tongue tracing along the swell of your bottom lip. You lightly nip at his own, your teeth grazing the pillowy flesh.

When you pull away this time, your chests heave in unison, deep and laboured breaths. You stare at each other, the air thick with something indescribable, static and heavy.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters and yanks his hand away, clenching it into a tight fist.

Your head spins and your eyes droop, your voice luculent and confident as you reply, “I’m not.”

“Please–”

“I want you.” And you surprise yourself with how easy it is to admit it, to say those exact words.

Things happen so fast, it all becomes a blur. Your lips had locked again and somewhere in the sinful chaos, your pullover had been shed, your sweats well on the way to joining it in a haphazard pile. Your hair splays all over the pillows behind you, framing your face like a halo and all Changkyun can do is marvel at how perfect you look.

“Safe word.” He says, almost breaking the mood.

“Huh?” You pant, trying to sort through the muddle of things in your head to make sense of what he’s saying.

“A safe word. You know, something you say if I do something that’s too much, or vise versa. I don’t want to hurt you... or make you uncomfortable.”

You think of all the possible things Changkyun could do to you, most of them probably requiring a safe word, and blush beneath him. “Uh– vanilla?”

He laughs breathlessly overhead at the irony which draws a shy smile from you. “Vanilla it is.” He groans before diving in and tenderly kissing a trail from your neck all the way down to your panties, his tongue swiping delicious circles on your skin. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Those words, uttered in the most sincere way, have your whole body quivering in delight and wanton anticipation. Another whimper sounds at the back of your throat, your eyes transfixed on his head between your legs.

He doesn’t even bother taking them off, but pushes them to the side and dives right in. His tongue is warm, experienced as he licks a stripe between your folds, his plush lips suckling at your nub. You cry out at the direct contact, sparks of electric running up and down your spine. His thumb rubs little circles on your clit as his tongue dips into your entrance, the salacious sensations driving you wild.

“Oh god,” you whisper, your eyes squeezed shut as the familiar warmth gathers in the pit of your stomach. Your hands find themselves tangled in his chestnut brown locks, your back arching off the floor as you press him deeper into your core.

His tongue replaces his thumb on your clit and before you realise what’s happening, he plunges a finger inside you. He pumps in time to his mouth working wonders in between your folds and his groans against your pussy send you tumbling into oblivion.

Your hips buck up into his mouth, your cries rising in a steady crescendo. “Changkyun, I-I’m gonna cum–” your voice breaks on the last syllable, much like your self-control.

But he pulls out and away so suddenly, leaving you empty and cold and teetering on the edge of your peak.

“No,” you gasp, a sob escaping your chest in protest. “No.”

“Turn around.” His voice is dark, laden with authority you don’t dare disobey. You scramble on all fours, still dizzy with your denied climax. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect and all for me.”

You feel his hungry gaze crawl all over your body, head to toe, lingering on how pretty your pussy looks from this angle. He pulls his shirt over his head and shimmies out of his own sweats, but what you’re expecting doesn’t quite follow. Changkyun repositions himself on his knees and reaches forward to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging with a lot more force than before. His other hand snakes back into your core from behind, his fingers sinking deeper and deeper with every stroke.

Endless compliments and groans fall past his lips, watching as you fall apart with each passing second. His erection presses against the confines of his boxers, eager to spring free but not yet wanting to move on. He wants to explore you, devour you and savour every last part of you. He knows exactly which buttons to press and from the look in your eyes rolled back to look at him, he’s hitting every single one.

Your walls flutter dangerously around his fingers as his grip in your hair tightens, on the brink of your first orgasm. But you’re denied it a second time, tears pooling and threatening to spill over as you cry out loud again. “Changkyun, please!”

“Hm?” He pulls your head all the way back so your body is flush with his, his cock pressing into the back of your thigh. Had it not been for the cushions and blankets lining the floor, your knees would’ve given in. His lips graze your ear, a cold shiver rippling across your skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His fingers pry your lips apart, the pads pressing onto your tongue, letting you taste your essence. You bite down gently on his fingers and he hisses again in your ear. “I can’t let you cum, baby. Not yet. Not like this.”

His hands fall from your hair and your mouth, finally freeing himself from his underwear. His fingers rush, almost clumsily, to pull your panties down, leaving them around your knees. He slips his member between your legs, sliding back and forth between your folds, coating his cock in your arousal.

“You feel so fucking good, y/n,” he groans deep in your ear, nibbling at your lobe. “So fucking good for me.” He gently lowers you back down to all fours, his hand pressing your head into the pillows, before slipping inside you.

You both sigh in content as he pulls out and thrusts back in, fully sheathing himself within you. The pace begins torturously slow before he begins to speed up, his hips eventually pistoning in and out of you relentlessly.

Your cries of pleasure make his head spin with fulfilled desire but only eggs him on to pleasure you further, not stopping until you’re a whimpering, shaking wreck beneath him. The sound of skin against skin sounds terribly out of place in a setting as sweet as this but you’re incapable of feeling any sort of shame or remorse when Changkyun is buried this deep inside you.

He twists one of your arms behind your back, the other hand tightly gripping your waist, pulling you back to meet every thrust. “You’re so tight, baby. I can feel every inch of you.”

He leans forward slightly and rolls a pebbled nipple between his thumb and finger, the sensation directly arousing your clit. The head of his cock finds the little magic spot within, and with every hit, you climb closer and closer to your previously denied release. “I can’t– I need to cum!”

Changkyun grunts, in acknowledgement or effort, you don’t know, and pulls out, flipping you over onto your back in one swift motion. “Not yet,” he rips the panties off and around your ankles before plunging back into you, one leg thrown over his shoulder.

He leans forward on his forearms, his nose inches away from yours, the soft light illuminating his striking features. His lips find yours again and this time it’s frantic and frenzied, completely lustful and and crazed, needing to feel and taste each other.

You gaze with glassy eyes into his and never before had you felt so at home. Your throat constricts with emotion as you grasp his face between your palms and savour every thrust, every touch and caress. And in the moment, with pent up feelings and a desperate need to to cum directing your thoughts, you utter those forbidden three words. “I love you.”

It wasn’t a complete sex-crazed confession. You do love him and had done for many years, though not in this way. It was a deep fondness that extended the realms of friendship, a fondness you had misinterpreted. Because Changkyun, was in every way, perfect for you.

“Fuck,” his jaw clenches as he holds himself back. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Changkyun,” you gasp as his rhythm changes, sharp and intermittent. “Please, I–”

He cuts you off, crashing his lips down on yours and lets your leg fall to wrap around his waist. The final sprint, you cant your hips up into him to meet in the middle, blubbering and babbling, a sobbing mess. You feel a mixture of your essence and his spit from before seep into the blankets below as he glides in and out of your sopping heat.

“I-I’m cumming,” you cry, loud enough for the whole street to hear. “God, Kyun, I’m cumming–”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, suckling bruises into your skin, his sweat mixing with your own. Finally, the heat in your stomach unfurls and explodes, your core furiously clenching around his cock. After so many denials, your first orgasm is so strong it’s almost painful, blissful sobs wracking your frame.

You hold onto him for dear life as he grunts at the feeling, his pace relentless and unforgiving, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot within. The overstimulation is almost too much to bear but beneath the slight discomfort and pain, you feel the promise of a second, continuous orgasm.

“Kyun, please–!” His hand comes up and quickly wraps around your throat, gently squeezing as you ride out your second climax.

“Baby, I’m– oh god, baby, I’m gonna cum for you,” his voice in your ear rises several octaves, his whines and whimpers getting you off even more. “You ready for me, baby?”

He feels your hair brush against his cheek as you nod and bites down on your neck as he thrusts sharply once, twice into your core, sighing loudly and letting go of a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding, as he releases inside you, his cock twitching. He whimpers sweet nothings into your ear, your name falling from his lips like a blessing as he tries to catch his breath back.

He starts to pull away before you feel uncomfortable but you hold him in place, not wanting to be apart for now. Even holding still inside you proves to be too much, your fluttering and clenching walls overstimulating his softening member.

Changkyun knocks his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent. He smooths your hair back away from your face and pulls back a little to look you in the eyes. “I love you too.”

The two of you stay as one, staring into each other’s souls, connecting on another level. This must be heaven, you think, the soft lights glowing around you in your little sanctuary. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him deeper into you, afraid of letting go.

“I–” Changkyun is cut off by his phone ringing, shattering the delicate world the two of you had so arduously built. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He glances at you sheepishly.

“It’s ok,” you blush and almost wince as he slowly pulls out, his cum seeping out and soiling the blankets even further.

He scrambles for his phone and answers breathlessly, “Hello?”

You hear Jooheon on the other end, catching a word here and there.

“Uh– no, I– don’t think so. Rain check?” Changkyun glances at you again, this time with a glint of mischief. “Sure, I’ll let her know. Ok... bye.”

You open your mouth to ask about the conversation but something else occupies the forefront of your mind. “Kyun?”

He lays behind you, holding you flush to his chest. “Yeah?”

“How did you know...” you cover your face in embarrassment, but continue nevertheless. “How did you know... what things I like?”

You feel his heart thud in response before he answers. “I, uh–” he clears his throat. “I may have seen a certain page of your diary.”

“Kyun!” You turn around, your mouth agape with a mortified expression plastered all over your features.

“It was an accident, I swear!” He laces his hand through yours and apologises, kissing your nose. “It was a long time ago. I made sure to forget... until now...” his cheeks light up again and you giggle, high on euphoria.

“I should’ve added ice cream to that list.” You quip with an impish smirk.

He hoists your leg over his waist, his large hand squeezing your thigh. “Well, you know, it’s never too late to amend it.”

5K notes · View notes

themetaphorgirl · 4 years

Text

so I had some requests to expand on this bit that I wrote, about Spencer recovering from appendicitis.

and I was like “oh cool, I’ll write a little something.”

five thousand words later

I hope you like it!!! and everybody say thank you to @f-m27 for being my cheerleader and beta!!

(please don’t judge any medical inaccuracies. and the fact that Gideon allowed an eighteen-year-old, a seventeen-year-old, and a sixteen-year-old to take a ten-year-old to the emergency room. we’ve all seen the first two seasons. we all know that Gideon can barely be a Responsible Adult for FBI agents, he should not be left in charge of actual children.)

(also don’t imagine Alex sitting with Spencer in 9x24 waiting for him to wake up after surgery. don’t. don’t do it. you’ll catch the feelings.)

my ff.net | my AO3 | the boarding school babes

----------

He thought it was just a stomachache.

It was just little twinges at first, just enough to divert his attention for a moment. He figured it was probably just that he ate too much junk food, or he wasn’t sleeping enough (he never slept enough), or maybe he was stressed over the big test he had coming up in his history class.

The little twinges turned to big twinges, and then turned to a dull steady ache at the pit of his stomach. And on Friday morning, the dull steady ache had turned into cramps that squeezed tight and threatened to wander to his side. Maybe he was more nervous about the test than he thought.

He couldn’t even eat anything at lunch. Slowly he dragged his fork around on his plate, resting his chin in his hand, his stomach squeezing tighter and tighter.

“Spencer, aren’t you hungry?” Hotch said. “You haven’t eaten anything.”

He raised his head. “I don’t think I’m hungry,” he said.

“Still stressed about your history test?” Derek asked.

He jabbed his fork into his pasta. “I hate essay questions,” he said. “I don’t think they’re an adequate gauge of knowledge if you’re rushing to get it done in the time allotted.”

David laughed. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, you’ll do fine,” he said. He bit his lip.

“Don’t make that face,” Alex said. “David’s right, it’s not going to be as hard as you think it will be. How about we figure out something fun to do tonight once it’s over?”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly, digging his fork into his food. He wasn’t hungry, not even in the slightest.

The big kids were wrong. The multiple choice was easy and so was the fill in the blank section, but the essay question got him all tangled up, trying to keep his words straight. His stomach really hurt now, painful steady cramps that squeezed into his right side. It made it harder to focus, and he turned in his test at the end of the class with the upsetting suspicion that he could have done a lot better.

He dragged himself back to Lincoln House after his last class, his steps slow and his messenger bag pulling his shoulder down. It was a cold, gray, gloomy day, and he was freezing. But maybe now that his test was over and it was the weekend, he would start feeling better.

Chaos reigned in the seventh floor common room. Derek and Emily were squabbling, Penelope and JJ were shrieking about something on a TV show, James and David were flipping channels in search of something to watch. Spencer bit back a sigh and set down his messenger bag so he could unbutton his blazer.

“Hey, watch out!” Derek said, and suddenly white stars exploded in his vision as someone collided into him. He doubled over, clutching his side.

Someone caught him by the arm and kept him from sinking. “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Emily said, and he blinked rapidly in an effort to make the room stop spinning. She hoisted him up and he cried out at the splitting stitch in his side. “What’s going on, kid? Derek didn’t bump you that hard.”

“Nothing,” he wheezed. “Just...stomachache.” The room had gone deathly quiet and he hated it. Everyone was staring at him. Even Emily looked worried, and that made him feel even more uneasy.

“You’re sure it’s just a stomachache?” James asked. He frowned. “You’re holding onto your side.”

Spencer shrugged. “Yeah, it hurts,” he said, a little too sharply.

“Are you feeling okay?” James pressed. “Maybe you should go to the infirmary.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t need to,” he said. “I’m fine.” He hefted up his messenger bag. “I’m gonna go change.”

The others slowly went back to what they were doing, but James was frowning. “I’m going to go talk to Hotch, I’ll be right back,” he said.

----------

Alex hummed under her breath, already daydreaming about the books stashed in her bag. A major perk of being the school librarian was getting first dibs on anything new. “Penelope, the new Maggie Stiefvater came in,” she called as she climbed the stairs to the seventh floor common room.

“Ooh!” Penelope said, making grabby hands. “You’re the best. I’m so excited!”

“I get dibs next!” JJ said.

The kids piled over the couch and the floor watching a rerun of sitcom. She handed the book to Penelope and set her bag down. “How was your history test, Spence?” she asked.

He shrugged. He was curled up in the far end of the couch, dressed in a tee shirt and joggers, his thin arms folded protectively over his stomach. “It was okay, I guess,” he mumbled.

She bent over him and kissed his forehead, then frowned. “You feel warm,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said, his mouth drawing down in a pout.

James got up from the couch. “Hey, can we have a big kid meeting?” he said. “In Hotch’s room.”

“I guess,” Alex said, caught off guard.

“For the purposes of this meeting, do I count as a big kid?” Emily asked.

“No, you can stay here,” James said.

“Oh, good. I didn’t want to go.”

Alex smoothed Spencer’s short hair; he didn’t respond, but he was definitely a little too warm. “Be good, you guys.”

James grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her into Hotch’s room; David closed the door behind them. Hotch pushed his chair back from his desk and took his headphones off. “Hey, you got an update?” he asked.

“Update on what?” Alex asked, confused. “What’s going on?”

James sat down on Hotch’s bed. “Something’s wrong with Spencer,” he said.

“Yeah, he’s been acting odd all week, and I think he has a fever,” she said.

“James thinks he has appendicitis,” David said.

Alex’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no. Really?”

“He’s got all the textbook signs,” James said. “He hasn’t been eating much this week, he says his stomach hurts. Derek bumped into him and he about screamed. He’s been favoring his right side. And if you say he’s running a fever…”

“What should we do? Take him to the infirmary?”

“He already said no to that, because of course he did,” David said.

“And if it’s appendicitis, we need to get him to a hospital sooner rather than later,” James said, jiggling his leg anxiously. “At best, we take him in, they check him out, they say it’s just a stomach ache. At worst, we keep him here, I’m right, his appendix bursts, and it’s at least a thirty minute drive to the hospital.”

“And I’ve already talked to Gideon about it,” Hotch said, waving his phone. “He said he trusts my judgement, and if we take him to the hospital to just make sure we bring Spencer’s file with his medical records and to keep him updated.”

Alex frowned. “He does remember that we’re all teenagers, right?” she said. Hotch shrugged.

“Okay, who’s going to take him?” David asked.

“I’ll drive,” James said immediately. “And I’m eighteen, I can sign off on things. Hotch, you should come too. And Alex.”

“I’ll stay here and watch the rest of the kids,” David said. “But the big question is...how are we going to convince him to get in the car.”

“I’ll throw him over my shoulder and carry him out kicking and screaming if I have to,” Hotch said.

“No, no, we have to make him think it’s his idea,” Alex said.

“Or you can just lie,” David suggested. “Did you guys promise to do something fun once he got that history test over with? Tell him you’re going to take him into town for ice cream or something.”

“We shouldn’t lie to him,” Alex said.

“No...he has a point,” James said. “That might actually work.”

Alex fished her phone out of her pocket, sighing. “Okay, then, hold on,” she said. “I’m going to tell Derek to pack some things for Spencer. If he does end up needing surgery, we’ll have to be prepared.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” James said.

Hotch closed up his textbooks and switched off his desk lamp. “All right, who can lie the best?” he said as he reached for his shoes.

“Probably me,” David said. “I’ll set up it. You guys...maintain it. Don’t let on until you’ve at least got him in the car. That way he can’t escape.”

“Oh, good point,” James said. He got up from Hotch’s bed. “All right. Are we ready to do this?”

Alex pocketed her phone. “Might as well,” she said. “United front, everybody. United front.”

The rest of the kids were still sprawled around the common room watching TV. She eyed the pile of books on the table- Derek had followed her instructions and emptied her tote bag so he could pack things without Spencer catching on.

“Hey, Spencer,” David said. “Since you did so well on your test, you want to go to town and get some ice cream?”

He shrugged. “No, not really,” he said.

Alex bit her lip. Spencer had to be sick. He would live off sugar if they let him; she’d never seen him turn down dessert before.

“Does your stomach still hurt?” James asked. “Maybe we should take you to the infirmary.”

Spencer inched off the couch, bracing his palm against his right side. “No, no...I want ice cream,” he said.

“Hey, what about me?” Emily objected. “I want ice cream too.” Hotch shot her a look that would dissolve steel. “Well...maybe not.”

“Okay, then,” James said. “Get your shoes and a jacket. It’s cold out.”

Spencer jammed his feet into his sneakers and tried to bend over to tie them. He couldn’t do it, and he left the laces untied as he reached for his jacket. She desperately wanted to fix it and tie them for him, but she didn’t want to draw too much attention.

Derek sidled up beside her and silently handed her her tote bag. “Thanks,” she whispered, and he nodded.

Hotch shrugged on his ever-present navy hoodie. “All right, you guys ready?” he asked.

JJ and Penelope looked at them, confused. “Let’s go,” James said, placing his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “See you guys later.”

It was a long walk from Lincoln House to James’s car. Hotch took the backseat next to Spencer; Alex sat in the passenger seat with her hands in her coat pockets. James fiddled with his bluetooth receiver for a moment and turned on music, something calm to play in the background, and pulled out of the parking lot.

The three of them kept up steady conversation about inconsequential things, but Spencer stayed unusually silent. Alex kept an eye on him in the rearview mirror. He curled up tight, burrowing into the hood of his jacket, his forehead pressed against the window.

James drove through town as a light rain started to fall. Spencer blinked and struggled to sit up. “Wait, where are we going?” he asked. Alex caught Hotch’s eye in the mirror. They stayed uncomfortably silent for a moment. No one wanted to say it.

“We think you need to get checked out at a hospital,” James said finally.

“What?” Spencer said, his voice rising. “Why?”

James kept driving, raindrops catching in the headlights. “You might need your appendix out,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. “You have a lot of the hallmark symptoms, and we would rather have someone take a look at you and clear you to go back home than risk your appendix bursting.”

Spencer’s mouth dropped open. “You lied to me!” he accused.

“You keep insisting you’re fine, and you wouldn’t go to the infirmary at school,” Hotch said. “Would you have listened and gone with us if we tried to talk to you about it?”

“Yes!” he said. He hesitated. “Well...maybe not. But I’m okay, and you shouldn’t have lied to me!”

Alex turned around in her seat. “I’m sorry we lied,” she said. “But let’s get you looked at, and once they tell you’re fine we’ll get ice cream for real, and then go home.”

“But-” James started to say, and she shot him a look. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

Spencer slunk back, the seatbelt sliding over his neck. Alex bit back a sigh. She hoped they’d just send him home. But she had a sneaking suspicion that James was right.

They were going to be in for a rough night, she could just tell.

James parked in the emergency room lot; she got out of the car, shouldering her bag, and winced against the light cold rain biting at her face. “Spencer, get out of the car,” Hotch said.

“No.”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Spencer Reid, get out of the car now.”

“I’m not getting out of the car. You guys lied to me.”

“Spencer Walter Tristan Reid. Get out of the car, I swear to God, or I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you myself.”

“You wouldn’t.” Hotch strode towards Spencer’s side of the car. “Okay! Okay, I’ll get out of the car.”

Spencer scrambled to get out of the car, but he moved a little too fast, a little too sharply, and he doubled over, his hand still clinging to the door handle. Hotch crouched down beside him. “Do you need a second?” he asked gently. Spencer nodded, his teeth gritted.

His shoelaces were still untied, drabbling in a puddle, and Hotch tied them silently. He stood up and placed his hand on Spencer’s narrow shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said, and after a moment Spencer obeyed.

He was moving slowly and stiffly now, and Hotch kept his strides short and slow for him to keep up as they crossed the parking lot. It was a little warmer in the emergency room, but not by much. At least they were out of the rain.

James touched Alex’s arm lightly. “Hotch and I will get him checked in, can you sit with him?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” she said.

She guided him over to a chair. “I’m fine,” he told her. “My stomach just hurts a little.”

“I know,” she said, taking the seat next to him and dropping her bag on the floor. He curled up away from her, tucking his feet under himself and making himself small. She bit back a sigh. At least it didn’t seem too busy in the emergency room. Maybe they wouldn’t have to wait too long.

The boys joined them after a while; Hotch stretched out his long legs and bit back a yawn. “He’s checked in, we’re just waiting for them to call him into triage,” James said. “How’s he doing?”

“He might’ve fallen asleep,” Alex said.

“I’m awake,” Spencer mumbled into his crossed arms. “And I’m still mad at you guys.”

Alex rubbed his back lightly. “That’s fair,” she said. “Well, hopefully they’ll bring you back soon, and then we’ll head home.”

“You promised me ice cream.”

“That’s right, ice cream and then home,” she said. She caught James’s eye and shrugged.

She kept rubbing light circles into Spencer’s back. Most people assumed Spencer didn’t like to be touched- and that was true with strangers, but once he’d warmed up to their little family he seemed to welcome affectionate gestures. He seemed to relax a little bit as she kept up the gentle patterns.

“Spencer Reid?”

Spencer unfolded himself stiffly from the chair. The white light of the emergency room made the dark circles under his eyes seem darker. “You want all of us to go back with you?” Alex asked. He nodded, reaching nervously for her hand.

The nurse brought them back to a small triage room and closed the curtain. “Up here, please,” she said, indicating the exam table. Spencer balked.

“Take off your jacket,” Hotch said. He obeyed; James took the jacket and Hotch picked Spencer up and sat him on the table.

The nurse checked Spencer’s blood pressure and pulse, then took his temperature. “A hundred and two,” she reported. “That’s a littler higher than we’d like. What’s been going on?”

“Mild abdominal pains,” Spencer said, his eyes closed. “They were worried. Can I go home now?”

“How mild are we talking?” the nurse asked. “Scale of one to ten.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment. “Seven, maybe?”

“For Spencer, that’s like...an eleven,” Hotch said.

“He hasn’t been eating much, and he’s been favoring his right side,” James added.

The nurse scanned Spencer’s file. “Ah, that does sound a bit like appendicitis,” she said. “Let’s take a look, okay, sweetie?”

Spencer tried to twist away as the nurse lifted the hem of his shirt. His belly was swollen, and when the nurse probed his right side lightly he cried out, all the color draining from his face.

“Yeah, that sure seems like appendicitis,” the nurse said, seemingly unfazed. “All right, we’ll do an ultrasound to confirm. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

Spencer’s chest heaved. “Can we go home now?” he begged. His pale face had taken on a greenish tinge. “Please, I don’t want to be here.”

“No, we have to stay,” Alex said. She got up and took his hand in both of hers. “They’re going to double check and see if it’s your appendix. If we find out it isn’t, we’ll take your home.”

“It’s definitely his appendix,” Hotch mumbled under his breath.

“Aaron,” she hissed. He rolled his eyes.

Spencer struggled to sit up, yanking his hand out of her grip. “I don’t want to be here,” he said desperately. “Please, just take me home. I hate hospitals. I-”

“Just calm down and let them check you out, okay?” Hotch said, a little too harshly.

“I don’t think I need to be checked out,” he shot back.

The nurse wheeled in a cart with the ultrasound machine and started setting it up. “Spencer, lie down,” Alex said.

“No,” he said petulantly. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Jesus, Spencer, cut it out,” Hotch snapped. “You’re acting like a child.”

“I am a child!”

“So be quiet and fucking listen to the grownups! We’re trying to help you!”

“You’re not a grownup, you’re sixteen!”

“Both of you, stop it,” Alex interrupted sharply. A fever flush was rising high on Spencer’s cheeks and his eyes were glassy, threatening to spill over; Hotch looked like thunder, his eyebrows knitting together and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

The nurse seemed unbothered by their argument. “Okay, sweetie, lie down,” she said. Spencer obeyed, but he flinched when she tugged his shirt up around his ribcage and tried to squirm away from her cold clinical touch. “This’ll be a little cold.”

Spencer screwed up his face. Alex didn’t know if he was about to scream or cry or throw a temper tantrum. Honestly, maybe all three.

“I wonder how the ultrasound was developed,” she said quickly.

The nurse squirted the cold gel on Spencer’s stomach; he jumped, but he turned towards Alex, distracted. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Oh, just wondering who discovered it, and how they started using it in hospital settings,” she said.

The nurse moved the wand over Spencer’s belly; James stepped closer to the screen to get a better look. “Well, Pierre Curie discovered piezoelectricity in 1880,” Spencer said. “But the first echo imaging device wasn’t developed until 1940.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” she said, playing dumb. “So then they started using them for medical purposes?”

“No, it was meant to find flaws in metal casings,” he said. “It wasn’t used on people until 1941.”

She kept asking questions, just enough to keep him talking, and he started to calm down as he focused on answering her questions. She saw Hotch sigh in relief. But she also saw James frowning at the ultrasound screen, and that couldn’t be good.

The nurse wiped the gel off Spencer’s stomach. “All right, so bad news, good news,” she said. “Bad news, we’ve got to get that appendix out, and fast. Good news, we caught it before it burst.” She started packing things up. “We’ll get you moved to pre-op as fast as we can, okay?”

She left, and all the color drained from Spencer’s face. “I want to go home,” he whispered, but all the fight had gone out of him.

“We know, Spence, but they need to take your appendix out,” James said. “There’s no way around it.”

“Yes, there is!” Spencer said desperately. “Antibiotics, they can reverse it with antibiotics…”

James shook his head. “That’s in mild cases, and it’s rarely successful,” he said gently. “Spencer, I was watching your ultrasound. You’re not okay. You’ve got to have surgery.”

Spencer’s face crumpled. “I don’t want to,” he said, a sob catching in his throat. “Please don’t make me, please don’t make me, I hate it here, I want to leave.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Alex said, bending over him and brushing his hair back from his forehead. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

He kept his face hidden from her, but his shoulders hitched. “They used to take me to the hospital...when my mom was sick,” he whispered. “When she got really bad. And...and they’d leave me in the waiting room, and...and I’d be there for hours, by myself...and…”

“That’s not going to happen,” Hotch said firmly. “I promise. There’s no way we would just leave you.”

A tear dripped down Spencer’s cheek. Alex wiped it away with her thumb. “An appendectomy is a really easy procedure,” James said gently. He squeezed Spencer’s knee. “You’ll be in and out in no time. Maybe a day or two in the hospital to recover, and then we’ll take you home so you can rest.” He smiled. “And then we’ll get you that ice cream we tricked you with. As much ice cream as you want.”

Spencer’s chest heaved as Alex stroked his hair back from his forehead. “You promise?” he said.

“Absolutely,” James said.

The nurse drew back the curtain. “All right, sweetie, we’re going to move you to pre-op and the doctor’s going to come talk to you about what’s going to happen,” she said briskly. “I’ve got a wheelchair for you, you probably shouldn’t walk.”

Spencer’s mouth tightened. “It’s fine, I’ll carry him,” Hotch said. “Is that okay, kid?” He nodded, and Hotch scooped him up carefully in his arms. Spencer’s head dropped against his shoulder.

The pediatric wing was horrifically cheerful, the halls painted a painful yellow and decorated with a mural of slightly cock-eyed off-brand cartoon characters. It made her skin crawl to see them staring.

“So you’ll want to get him changed, and we’ll get an IV started for him,” the nurse said. “The doctor will be in soon to talk to you. But I’ll give y’all a second.”

She closed the door. Alex sighed as she set down her bag and took off her coat. “Wow, this place really does suck,” she said, tugging at her dress.

Hotch set Spencer down gently on the floor; he swayed drunkenly and Hotch kept his hands on his shoulders. “How’re you doing?” he asked.

“I don’t feel good,” he said in a small voice. “I really don’t feel good.”

His face had gone stark white; James quietly handed Hotch the small trash can from the corner just before Spencer doubled over and threw up. Alex winced, but Hotch didn’t seem fazed at all.

He didn’t have much in his system to bring up, but he started to cry, faint and panicky. “Alex, can you take him?” James said. “We’ll take care of everything else.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” she said. She took Spencer’s hand and squeezed gently before leading him over to the small bathroom.

He was shaking, his teeth beginning to chatter. “I don’t feel good,” he sobbed. “Alex, I don’t feel good.”

“I know, I know,” she soothed. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you can lie down, okay?”

She folded up a paper towel and ran it under cold water, then wiped gently at his face. His fever radiated heat against her hand. She helped him change, setting his clothes aside and dressing him in a hospital johnny that buttoned at the shoulders. He didn’t put up a fight, but he didn’t have the energy to do it himself, so she did it for him.

“How’s that?” she asked. “Better?” He nodded, his chin trembling. “Let’s get you to bed, then.”

James and Hotch were talking to a doctor in low conspiratorial tones in the corner. Alex picked Spencer up and set him on the bed. Usually he slept curled up on his side or his stomach, but he just sank back limply, still shivering.

Alex dug through her bag and shook out a soft blanket- it was Derek’s, but it was Spencer’s favorite to steal during movie nights. She tucked it around him snugly and he hugged it to his chest.

A nurse in purple scrubs was prepping an IV. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “We’re going to get your IV started, and once it’s going and the doctor has the chance to talk to you, we’ll start the anesthesia. Which arm?”

“Right,” he said quietly.

Alex sat down next to him; he cuddled up to her, his cheek against her collarbone, as the nurse set the IV in his arm and taped it in place. He didn’t even flinch, and she kissed the top of his head.

“Hey, kid,” Hotch said. “How’re you holding up?”

“I don’t feel good,” he said, and Hotch rubbed his arm lightly.

“The doctor’s going to talk you through what’s going to happen,” James said. “You can ask as many questions as you want.”

The doctor was kind and patient, but Spencer didn’t ask any questions, and that worried her. Spencer was always a never-ending fount of questions and facts and statistics; it wouldn’t have surprised her if he had talked through the surgery himself. His silence scared her. But she wasn’t about to say that.

“You’re sure you don’t have any questions?” Hotch asked. Spencer shook his head.

“Okay, sugar, we’re going to start the anesthesia,” the nurse said.

Spencer shivered. “You’ll stay?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“We’ll be right here,” Hotch promised. “And we’ll be there when you wake up.”

The nurse injected something into the IV port. Before long Spencer was fighting to stay awake, his lashes fluttering and twitching, but soon he was limp in Alex’s arms, fast asleep.

“All right, we’ll take it from here. We’ll keep you updated.”

They were ushered out in short order and escorted to a small waiting room; Alex pressed one last kiss to Spencer’s cheek and gathered up his blanket. Hotch sank down in a chair and buried his face in his hands.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “He’s just so damn small,” he said at last, his voice muffled in his palms.

She sighed and sat down next to him. “I know,” she said. She handed him the blanket and Hotch sat up a little, his shoulders still hunched, and folded it around his arms. His eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed.

“Who wants to call David with an update?” James asked.

Alex rubbed her forehead. “Oh, god, we have to tell the rest of them,” she said. She rested her hand on Hotch’s back. “Do you mind doing it?”

“Yeah, no worries,” James said, already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“How bad is this, really?” Hotch asked. “How much should we worry?”

“He’s going to be okay,” James said. “It’s a best case scenario. We caught it fast enough, he’s in good hands, the surgery will only last about an hour.”

It was the longest hour she had ever experienced. Even with James’s reassurance, none of them could sit still and focus on anything; the TV played for no one and the magazines stayed untouched. Hotch held Spencer’s blanket in silence.

It was almost an hour and a half before anyone came back for them. Alex’s heart jumped to her throat. “He’s doing great,” the doctor said, smiling warmly. “They’re moving him to post-op so he can rest, he should be waking up soon.”

“Can we see him?” Hotch demanded.

“Absolutely. It’s common for children to be a little fussy and confused when they’re coming out of anesthesia, sometimes nauseated, so give him some time. But yes, you can go see him.”

Hotch was right. Spencer was just too damn small. And he was too quiet and still; she was used to him fidgeting and chattering all the time. He was still pale, his arms stiff by his sides, the IV still taped to his arm and a pulse monitor attached to his finger.

Alex sat down on the edge of the bed and took his limp little hand in hers. Hotch unfolded the blanket and draped it over him. “How much longer till he wakes up?” he asked.

“Not sure,” James said, pulling up a chair. “It could be a few minutes, or another hour or two.”

Luckily, it was only about half an hour before his fingers began to twitch in her grip. Before long he started to rouse, his lashes brushing against his cheeks, and when he opened his hazel eyes they were still cloudy.

“Hi, Spence, welcome back,” Hotch said.

He scrunched up his face, confused and distressed, and he started to cry. “Hey, you’re okay,” Alex soothed, holding his hand against her heart. “You’re okay, baby. You did so good.” He mumbled something indistinct that sounded faintly like her name and she smiled at him.

Spencer looked around unsteadily. “Hotch?” he said, his voice thick.

“Yeah, kiddo, I’m here too,” Hotch reassured him, leaning over him to stroke his hair back from his forehead. “James is too. We’re all here, we didn’t leave you.”

Spencer rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Where’s…” he started to say, but his voice trailed off.

“Where’s what?” James asked.

“Where’s...my ice cream?” he mumbled. “Did I miss it?”

Hotch laughed. “No, you didn’t miss it,” he said. “Ice cream’s for later, though. You just rest for now.”

That seemed to be enough to assure Spencer and he burrowed under the blankets. Alex kept his hand in hers, rubbing her thumbs in small circles, and he sighed in heavy, contented relief.

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #au: patron saint of lost causes #alex blake #aaron hotchner #james blake #caitlin writes things #Spencer Reid Needs a Hug #Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug #hotch is a dad

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roguish-gallery · 4 years

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Rogues + Hangover HCs

Okay so I might have had a bit too much to drink last night, and I wrote these to help me ride out today’s headache lmao. slight TW for alcohol mentions!

Bane:

A mere hangover cannot, nor will it ever, defeat him. He is too strong, too powerful for a silly headache.

That’s right! This bitch has the audacity to wake up and go workout in spite of the fact that he feels like he’s dying! In fact, he is so annoyed by his hangover that he works out even HARDER.

Aaaaaand after he gets back from that he has to lie down in the bathroom because now he feels even WORSE but the bathroom tile is nice and cold and it makes him feel marginally better.

Catwoman:

An absolute fucking mess. Old makeup smeared over her face, throbbing headache, can’t walk in a straight line.

100 percent can’t be near food because she. will. throw. up. Just the smell of bacon will make her stomach churn- She will only feed her cats dry food whenever she’s hungover because she can’t stand the idea of opening up several cans of tuna.

She spends half the day cuddling her cats and watching reruns of Seinfeld.

Harley Quinn:

Has all of these crackhead “hangover cures” that she takes seriously. No one else thinks they work but Harles swears by their authenticity.

Like. Raw eggs and lemon juice. A spoonful of dry oatmeal and mayo. Weird shit.

She’s miserable but this is neither her first nor her last hangover so she knows how to function in spite of it.

Joker:

He doesn’t get hangovers because he’s a twisted fucking cycle path.

Killer Croc:

Why is it so bright out and why is everyone so noisy he doesn’t like it at all :(

At some point he must have toppled over onto a table the night before, because he’s picking splinters out of his scales. Not fun.

Swears up and down that he’s never going to drink jungle juice again. This is a lie and he knows it, but it makes him feel better.

Mad Hatter:

Eughhhgghhh,,,,, everything is so dizzy…

Being polite and whimsical is too hard rn his head hurts and he’s going back to bed.

No fancy clothes today!!! No hats!!!! He’s only wearing a pair of boxers and a shirt he stole from Jonathan and that’s it! He’s allowed to take a day off from being eccentric!!!

Penguin:

Oz DESPERATELY wants to stay in bed but he’s too responsible to give himself that luxury (oh… where was that responsibility last night??? Where did it go when he was ordering his third sangria???)

Takes a COLD ASS shower and just stands there for twenty minutes- probably pressing his face up against the chilled tiling. It kinda reboots his system? He mostly does it because it drowns out the headache.

After that, he takes an aspirin and hopes for the best. He WILL be checking his phone’s history to make sure he didn’t do anything “unbecoming” (which is Oswald’s way of saying that he wants to make sure he didn’t drunk text anyone or, goodness forbid, ordered ANOTHER fucking blender. this has already happened twice and he can only regift them to people so many times before someone notices a pattern).

Poison Ivy:

Dasdkhjflkjsdhf fuck yall bitches she’s got regenerative health she woke up with clear skin and absolutely 0 regrets

Watches in horrified bemusement as Harley tries to swallow a glass of raw eggs and ranch dressing to “cure her hangover”

*Steps over Selina while she’s puking her guts out in the toilet* “hey I’m gonna step in the shower hope you don’t mind.”

Riddler:

There are only three occasions where Edward Edwin Nygma is ever quiet: when he’s asleep, when he’s dead, and when he’s hungover.

He doesn’t have the will to do ANYTHING. He’ll just sprawl over the couch, wearing a bathrobe that doesn’t belong to him (most certainly owned by Oswald at some point, down to his initials being sewn atop the breast pocket) and slowly… methodically feed himself tic tacs until he has the energy to get up and do something.

And by “do something” that means he’ll eventually crawl over to his desktop and play some RuneScape.

Scarecrow:

He ACTS like nothing is different, but the astute will notice that he seems to be drinking… more coffee than usual.

Also, where did he get those sunglasses? Jonathan Crane doesn’t normally wear sunglasses. And is he wearing comfortable clothes? Are those sweatpants? Is he wearing an old Gotham U t-shirt?

Do NOT talk to him do NOT look at him do NOT even fucking think about him he is NOT in the mood!!!!

Two-Face

The only reason he woke up and got out of bed was to puke.

Yknow… he WAS going to pull a heist later tonight but… ehhh… he’s not in the mood anymore. The zest for crime has left him. He’ll just have to rob the Gotham Bank of its two dollar bills the next time it’s February 2nd… whenever that will fucking be.

*shamefully puts on some pants so he can get himself some hash browns and orange juice at the Batburger across the street.*

#Edward Nygma #Jonathan Crane #Oswald Cobblepot #Harley Quinn #Bane #Harvey Dent #the joker #Selina Kyle #Waylon Jones #Jervis Tetch #pamela isley #rogues gallery #headcanons #dc headcanon

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c-atm · 4 years

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Jambudweek 2: Lion (Connverse Crossover verse)

Key: Mister: Steven (Fighting flirty) Heart Berry (HB): Connie (Fighting flirty) Witchy: Connie ( Witchanddemon) Dapper: Steven (Witchanddemon

Lion (Connverse Crossover verse)

It's been about ten days since the event happened.

LHW R&D finally crossed the line and began to experiment with the idea of alternative universes or maybe they always have been doing so, and finally decided to field test a true attempt at moving across dimensions, via Universal warp pads.

They look like your average warp pads, but their stream looks more like the bifrost from that superhero movie.

Regardless, they kind of succeeded. They didn't travel to another universe or an 'AU', They brought people from one to theirs, and as if fate decided to play a joke on them all, the accidental sliders happened to be two very familiar faces, just younger than usual.

Everyone was shocked and bewildered, when 21-year-old diamond hybrid; Steven Quartz Universe and 20-year-old part time college student, and member LHW R&D; Connie Yasha Maheswaran met experienced demon hunters, 16-year-old demon familiar, Steven Diamond Universe and 15-year-old witch and Steven's contractor, Connie Maheswaran.

Moving the two into Connie's little Homeworld residence was easy enough, but they quickly found out that the witch/demon pair was a bit more impulsive, A bit more guarded, a bit more outwardly hardened, a bit more...Independent, than themselves, than they should be. Which really, no one could blame them given the situation and well their lifestyle. Still, they showed that they are as kind, warm and open-hearted as their adult counterparts.

It was a shock for the demon and witch pair as well.

Magic and beings that seemed familiar but not. People who were long passed or just not around for one reason or the next, were now there in person, treating them with the same love and affection as their counterparts.

It was especially emotional for 'Dapper', a name for the younger Steven coined by the older Connie. Partly because of his clothing style, partly to tease her own Steven; and 'Witchy' a playful nickname from the older Steven to the younger Connie; met the Maheswarans and Greg.

A night of tears that was for all involved.

It took a bit for everyone to get settled into the fact that there was a second, younger jambud pair in their universe, no matter how temporary the stay would be. Except for Mister and Heartberry, the older jambuds; who seemed to take the fact that they now each had a younger 'sibling' in a strange stride.

"They're not clones and they have not tried to kill us." No one could argue with their logic.

All in all the younger two was able to find a groove within this new world, and soon found themselves settling in, getting used to everything and everyone.

Until this evening …

The two pairs were resting at Connie's LHW residence watching old under the knife reruns and exchanging information about their worlds. Deepening their siblings like bond and such, when Mister asked a simple question.

"So, what's your Lion like?"

"What?" The witch and demon paired retorted. "What do you mean?" Witchy added questionably.

"Lion? Big cotton candy fluff ball of a cat." HB joked.

"It's just me and my lady at home. We're out too much to care for a pet." Dapper stated as he wrapped an arm around Witchy's shoulder, who despite blushing, didn't remove it.

"It's kind of hard to call Lion a pet." Mister chuckled. "He's more like a partner or adopted rebellious teenage son."

"So what, he's an outside cat who just stops by every once in a blue?'

"Maybe for Mister, here." HB snickered her counterpart question, before squealing at the playfully nuzzling retaliation from her Steven. She tapped his chest to get him to stop, causing the two demon hunters to shake their head at the duo.

HB cleared her throat before answering. "For me, he's more obedient," She grinned cheekily "and Mister is jealous of that fact."

"See how she's messing with me." Mister pinched HB hip, getting a peep out of her and pointed stare out of her.

"She is telling the truth though about him being more obedient."

"You two wanna meet him?"

The demon and witch pair shrugged before nodding. They saw no reason why they wouldn't. It was just a cat, right?

The older pair looked at each other before HB stood up and stepping through the front door. Putting her left index and thumb in her mouth she whistled towards the setting sun.

"He's coming." Mister reassured the two, who looked a bi smug.

"Ah there you go! My fluffy boy, Daddy and mommy got someone for you to meet.."

Witchy bit back a snicker at the sweet talk as Dapper looked on teasingly smug towards Mister, who said nothing, but looked on in knowing indifference.

That soon turned to cheeky glee as he watched the younger Dapper take Witchy in his arms protectively and leap behind the couch, as HB walked in with Lion in toll.

"That a Lion! A real live honest to god lion!" Witchy exclaimed as the demon hunting duo looked at their older counterparts as if they lost their mind as they playfully scratched and rubbed the pink jungle king, who just mewled in appreciation of the attention.

"Yes and he's such a good boy. yes he is." HB swooned as Lion nuzzled his snout against her chin.

"Still gotta work on his parking though." Mister joked as Lion nudged his head against the gem hybrids own, growling gently, before licking his chin, getting chuckles out of him. " Ok, ok you've gotten better."

HB turned to the two with a smirk. "Come on over here. He won't hurt you."

Dapper shook his head, unconvinced. "You're kidding..right?"

"Why would we? He wouldn't hurt…." HB had to pause for a second. " Actually,he would hurt someone, badly...If they were a threat to Steven or me and by proxy, you two."

"Yeah,he's a battle cat for sure." Mister praised rubbing Lion's belly

"My trusted stee, yes he is." HB followed, getting pleasurable yips from the big cat.

Dapper was still unsure, when Witchy climbed out his grasp, and walked cautiously towards the three.

The older jambuds got out of the way and stood back as Lion stood up looking at the younger version of his mistress, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. He moved his snout closer to her, smelling the heavy, yet oh so familiar scent.

When he was done with his assessment of the younger mistress, Lion stared for a few moments...Before nuzzling his snout against her jaw, giving it a gentle lick and resting his head on her shoulder.

The response was instant!

"Oh! I love you! Such a sweet boy!" Witchy announced as she hugged the beast around his neck kissing it on its skull.

"I know, right!" HB exclaimed as she joined in giving the big cat attention.

"Kind of figured this was gonna happen." Mister stated with a smile towards Dapper who still looked unsure as if he was trying to figure out something.

"He's dead."

Dapper heard in his ear before turning to Mister, astonishment on his face.

"I don't know when or how, but Lion died and was resurrected by my mother. It's why he's pink and can do all he can do." Mister stated cooly, arms crossed as he and his counterparts watched the girls and Lion play together a smile on his face.

"What can he do?"

"Alot."

The demon elbowed the diamond, chuckling slightly. "Cryptic doesn't fit you at all, Big Bro."

Mister ruffled his younger 'brothers' hair "Yeah, yeah." He scoffed a laugh watching him slick his hair back. "Seriously, you want to know what Lion can do. He'll show you."

Dapper arched an eyebrow at that statement as Mister walked up to his Connie, whispering in her ear. She nodded with a smile before standing up.

"You know, it's a nice evening. You guys should take Lion out for a bit of a...Adventure. "

At the sound of an adventure, the pink beast climbed to its feet, almost excitedly. HB gave the beast a kiss under its jaw, before whispering in his ear. Lion turned to HB giving her an affectionate rub with his skull before bending down in front of Witchy.

"Ummm?"

"Go ahead. Get on. " HB assured her 'sister'.

Witchy didn't need any more coaxing as she climbed on the beast back.

"Whoa." She giggled as Lion stood to his full height. feeling a bit of vertigo over how tall he was. She turned to her partner with a smile. "What are you waiting for, you dapper demon? Get on."

"Listen to your lady." The flirty fighters sang before he could say anything in refusal.

Dapper just shook his head conceding. With a gentle hop he landed upon the beast wrapping his arms around his lady.

"So what, gonna take us around the town big cat?" Dapper teased, getting an almost offended look from Lion.

HB chuckled knowingly as she opened the door. " Something like that."

"Wait..gotta check on Lars." Mister said before giving HB a quick peck on her cheek. He turned to Lion, who dipped his head low towards his master. "You two have fun."

The two younger jambuds jaw dropped when they saw the older Steven disappear into the mane of the beast, completely.

"Wait, what the hell just happened?" Dapper yelled as Lion roared towards the door creating a portal right outside the house. "What...What?!"

"Show them a good time Lion, but don't keep them out too late." HB laughed as the jungle cat ran towards the portal. The last thing she heard before it closed was Dappers screaming and Witchy excitement filled laughter.

With a sigh HB sat down on her couch only to hear a text come to her phone. She turned to her messaging app, reading the new text. Quickly she hopped off the couch, grabbed her sword and ran out the door, heading to R&D.

#jambudweek2 #Connverse crossover #Steven universe #Connie Maheswaran #Connverse #Comedic #witchdemonAU #fighting flirty #Lion #Mister #Heartberry #Witchconnie #Demonsteven

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moonstruckbucky · 5 years

Text

Come Over (3/7)

Summary: You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader. Neighbor AU.

Warnings for Series: Fluff, angst, pining, the ush! Also, swearing, because nobody ever washed my mouth out with soap.

Notes: So I’ve daydreamed about a neighbor AU for an embarrassing amount of time, and I need something to get my creative juices flowing again. So, ta-da.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A month into your new life in New York, you feel more settled in. Your apartment doesn’t look like a warehouse piled high with boxes, and you’ve even spent some of your signing bonus on artwork to hang on the walls and a few plants to bring some life to the space. You’re even considering getting a cat.

At work, you frequently eat your lunch with not only Wanda and Vis, but the three other women on your floor. Maria, Charlotte, and Sarah are all mothers, so they don’t usually attend the girls’ night out you and Wanda plan every week, but they’re still pleasant to sit and chat with regardless. It’s made you feel even more at home at Stark Industries.

Speaking of, Tony is a riot, you’ve learned. You’ve come out of your shell a little more with each day you work for him, and it’s mostly in thanks to Tony’s easy-going personality. Though he’s clearly a workaholic on top of being addicted to caffeine (for anyone else this might’ve been a destructive combination but Tony seems to wield both extremely well), he feels more like a weird brother/father figure than a boss. He keeps most projects secret from you, but occasionally he’ll show you a new update or ask for your opinion as a consumer. You’re honest with him without kissing his ass too much about it.

Since he lives closer, Sam comes over a couple times a week to hang out with you and catch up on your favorite shows. He tries to bring Clint with him most times, but being neck-deep in a new case makes it hard for him to get away to visit. You settle for FaceTiming him during the week even though it isn’t the same.

It’s one of your weekly nights with Sam, who reclines in your new armchair with his feet up and an open beer in his fist. You’re catching up on Mindhunter with him, relaxed on the couch under a big fluffy blanket with your own beer. In between episodes Sam has been telling you all about the girl he’s been seeing, to which you demand you meet her for approval.

He rolls his eyes and asks, “Isn’t that my job?”

You scoff. “You’re my best friend, Sam, and as my best friend, I’ve got to make you’re taken care of just as much as you’re taking care of her.”

He grumbles under his breath but you can see a slight pinkness to his dark skin that makes you smirk in victory. A few moments of silence and then:

“So what about you and Neighbor Boy then? What’s going on there?” While your smirk drops, his widens. You take a long pull from your beer.

“Absolutely nothing, Sam.”

He snorts and gestures with his beer. “You have coffee dates almost every week!”

“He helps me put furniture together! There’s absolutely nothing but friendship there, I assure you.”

A doubtful look characterized by lowering of his eyebrows and pursed lips. A responding eye roll and scrunched up face, a silent don’t give me that look.

“Want another?” you ask, needing to busy yourself in order to keep your unusually attractive neighbor out of your head. Throwing the blanket off your lap, you stand up and accept the empty bottle Sam holds out to you.

If he notices that you take a little longer to fetch two more beers, he doesn’t say anything when you get back to the couch. He presses ‘play’ on the remote and the topic of your neighbor is dropped.

For an hour.

“So, you’re coming next Sunday for our football party right?” Sam asks.

Once a month during football season, Sam and Clint co-host a party at your brother’s apartment. You make your five-layer chip dip and Sam brings a massive amount of wings while Clint provides endless beer and a giant wrap-around couch that seats eight. (You’re still not sure how he fit the damn thing in his apartment.) To antagonize Clint and to make the day a little more fun, you and Sam always show up in your matching Patriots jerseys representing the McCourty twins.

“Of course I’ll be there! I never miss it!” you reply with an incredulous look. Sam holds up his hands.

“Hey, just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any new furniture that needed assembling that day.” He chortles when you chuck the throw pillow under your hip at him and nail him in the chest. “I’m kidding. Mostly. But, uh, I was gonna say, if you wanted to invite him, you could. Not as a date, don’t you throw that bottle! Jesus. Crazy. Just, Clint and I think he’s cool and it’d be cool to have another dude around.”

You watch him for a few moments, see no trace of his earlier teasing, and sigh and relax back into the couch. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“All I ask.”

Sam, bless him, leaves you be about Bucky for the remainder of your evening together. When he’s gone, your mind can’t rest just yet, so you open up a new beer and put on a rerun of CSI. You’ll regret staying up so late in the morning, but for now, you let your mind get sucked into the emotional episode of Warrick’s funeral.

Regret is a bitter bitch, and the next morning it comes in the form of a prominent headache paired with under-eye bags your makeup barely hides. A three-hour binge of CSI definitely wasn’t your smartest move considering you’ve a fairly important meeting with Tony in about two hours. Hair tied back in a ponytail and makeup...done but slightly unsatisfactory, you slip into a black pencil skirt with a mustard blouse tucked in. Your feet slide into a pair of black pumps and you throw on a jacket to combat the cool October morning.

You know your face shows your exhaustion as you give yourself a final once over, but there’s not much you can do short of downing copious amounts of coffee. Tote bag slung over your shoulder, you head out of your apartment with a sigh. As you’re locking your door, the one next to yours opens, and Bucky steps out looking ten kinds of delicious in his running gear, tattoos on full display thanks to his tight tank top.

You grunt when he tells you good morning, chuckles good-naturedly until he sees your eyes. Then he’s frowning in concern and you’re almost desperate to do anything to wipe it off. Such a man should not be frowning.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asks, falling into step with you towards the elevator. You resist the urge to rub your eyes in order to preserve your makeup.

“Not really. Sam stayed till about ten and then I stayed up a little while longer. Guess I just couldn’t fall asleep.” To punctuate your sentence, a long yawn escapes. Bucky stands next to you in the elevator, close enough you can feel the heat radiating from him and it’s wholly distracting. “And I have a meeting in a couple hours and I’m not really sure how I’m going to get through it without dozing a few hundred times. Know anyone who can hook me up with a caffeine IV?”

He laughs, the sound echoing in the small space, and despite the warmth and your jacket you still suppress a shiver.

“I’m afraid not. Hey, do you have a few minutes? We can go get a cup now, if you want,” he offers, blue eyes boring into yours, and you nod before you can really think about it. His smile brightens up the entire elevator, and then he’s leading you with a hand on your back out into the lobby and finally out onto the street.

He takes you to a place between your apartment building and the subway, stands with his hands in his pockets as you both wait in line. Sam’s invite bounces around in your head, your nerves expressing themselves in the form of tapping your fingers on your arms, which are crossed over your chest.

Bucky and you order your respective drinks and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Your hand on his arm stops him, has him looking down at you with those depthless blue eyes.

“I’ve got it,” you say softly with a small smile. He opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but you merely hand over some cash to the cashier. “You’ve helped me a ton this past month. Let me at least start paying you back with coffee.”

The blush that overtakes his face has your insides fluttering with giddiness. You have to bite your lip to keep back your grin, your entire body warming over the fact you’ve made this beautiful giant of a man blush. As the two of you stand off to the side and wait for your orders, you feel a small boost in confidence.

“Hey Bucky, I was wondering—” You’re cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone. He sighs and pulls the device from his pocket, and if you hadn’t been eyeing him so closely, you’d miss the slight downward twitch of his mouth.

“Excuse me just one sec okay?” he says apologetically. When he looks up at you, you know he means it and you nod. He smiles tightly and walks off down the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms, accepting the call with a hushed “Hi”.

You wait patiently until the barista calls your name and Bucky’s, and you grab both cups and sip lightly from yours while Bucky’s on his call. You can see him in the hall, shoulders hunched and free hand swinging about as he gestures. That pinched look is on his face again and you feel a faint tug in your gut that has you wondering if you’re close enough friends to ask.

Before you can decide one way or another, he’s pulling his phone from his ear and shoving it back in his pocket.

“Sorry about that,” he sighs, accepting the coffee you hand to him with a close-lipped smile. He takes a long drink from it, wincing a little at the burn, and licks his top lip. It’s horribly distracting for a minute. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Oh, um, I was just wondering if you maybe—oh shit.” A quick glance down at your watch shows you’re going to be late if you wait any longer. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going otherwise Tony’s going to kill me with his newest project. Um, I’ll see you later?”

Bucky’s blue eyes are slightly widened in surprise at your sudden departure. “Y-Yeah, definitely. Maybe you can tell me about this new project.” It’s said with a wink that tickles your insides.

“Maybe. If I’m not sworn to secrecy. Bye, Bucky!”

“Have a good day at work. And thanks for the coffee!” he calls out as you fly out of the cafe.

Your exhaustion only worsens as the day goes on. The meeting you’d sat in on was nothing short of boring—even Tony dozed off a few times, but only you’d taken notice because you were seated beside him and heard the tiny little snores. Your planner had been filled with new doodles of suns, clouds, flowers, and a tiny little witch in the margins. You’re still unsure why you’d been required to attend this meeting; you have a pile of things on your desk that could have been done in the two hours you sat uncomfortably in your chair, listening to the other tech geniuses go back and forth on new design ideas.

By the time it’s time for you to leave, you feel dead on your feet, which are cramping in your shoes. Your neck, shoulders, and back are also killing you due to sitting in your chair and hunching over the screen built into your desk. The subway ride home has you almost falling asleep, lulled by the gentle swaying of the car and the four hours’ sleep you got the night before.

It’s a slow climb to your apartment, and as you pass Bucky’s door you hesitate. You never did get to ask him this morning and so, because you’re too damn tired to be shy, you turn and knock three times on his door. From behind the wood you can make out a scuffle, and then the door is yanked open and your mouth runs dry.

Bucky stands before you, shirtless and gleaming with sweat. He’s breathless, that broad chest heaving up and down. There’s a smattering of dark hair across his chest and beneath his navel that disappears into the band of his shorts. The hair on his head is mussed, as if he’d been sleeping or hand run his hands through it.

“Y/N,” he gasps. Crimson creeps up his neck and across his chest, stains his cheeks as well as he avoids looking at your eyes. He glances over his shoulder briefly before turning back to you, eyes cast down at the neckline of your blouse. “Wha-What are you, um, doing here?”

“I, uh, wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to my brother’s with me for the football game on Sunday?” you ask in an equally breathless rush.

Bucky seems surprised by the question and is about to answer when a second, female voice calls from behind him, “James?”

A blonde head appears over his shoulder and the slender woman tucks herself under Bucky’s arm, looking equally as disheveled. You feel the color drain from your face even though it warms under the implication that you've...interrupted. There’s no question of what they’d been, or had about to have been, doing because the blonde’s hair is ruffled just like Bucky’s, her full lips red and kiss-bitten. Her blouse is untucked and unbuttoned.

You can’t take your eyes off her, nor she you as she lays a manicured hand on Bucky’s chest, a universal female power move that says he’s mine.

Bucky looks as awkward as you feel, shifting from bare foot to bare foot even as his hand rests on the woman’s shoulder. He clears his throat and gestures with his free hand to the woman, whose eyes have not left your form and are currently on their third sweep of your entire figure.

“Uh, Y/N, this is Sharon.”

“His girlfriend,” Sharon interjects. A sideways tilt of her lips that you know means no good. She reaches out with that manicured hand for yours and you shake it quickly, dropping it as if it’s burned you.

In a way, it has. It’s burned you so badly on the inside that you want nothing more than to duck into your apartment with your tail between your legs. You can feel the flames licking at your gut, sliding up your esophagus to singe your throat. It’s bitter, the burn, and it puts a pressure in your throat and behind your eyes.

“Sharon, this is Y/N, our new neighbor I was telling you about.” He won’t look at you, focusing instead on the blank wall just over your shoulder.

His sudden refusal to look at you pairs badly with your embarrassment, from both interrupting and for ever thinking you might have a chance, and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Chapter Four

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au #neighbor au #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes neighbor au

889 notes · View notes

pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

Text

pinky and the brain: s1e7 - tv or not tv

y’all do NOT understand how many times i have tried to post this. tumblr just will not stop eating it. this was supposed to be out last wednesday LMAO i am doing my best.

episode summary: brain engineers a pair of Mouse Dentures that give him a charming smile. anyone hypnotised by these dentures Suddenly Adores Him For No Good Reason. unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a shut in, so nobody is actually going to see his charming smile-- unless he gets himself a sitcom.

....or something.

the rundown:

we open on brain talking about the “weird and magical power” of celebrity. he has defaced several women, and is sticking his ass out. as you do. what is he doing to CINDY! and her ilk?? he must be stopped.

“those who have it weild tremendous influence. few can avoid the enchantment of its’ spell.”

“do you know what gives them this power?”

holy shit. he just stabbed CINDY!.

pinky absolutely does not care for CINDY!’s fate. “haha. narf. hey, paddlefoot, do you know what they call a quarter pounder in france?”

of course, sirius black was not in pulp fiction, and neither, as far as i can tell, was he in france. brain silences him with “enough gay banter”, like he wasn’t just sticking his ass out in his general direction, like, two minutes ago.

(this was the 90s, y’all. gay definitely meant gay back then. this is not the faraway tree.)

“pinky! behold the key to the power of attraction!”

“pushpins!”

“hurraaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“no, pinky.”

apparently the key to attraction is a

“winning smile”, as brain points out, tapping on CINDY!’s poor mutilated face for emphasis.

“and a nice healthy gum!”

“and... a nice healthy gum.”

it turns out that brain has “taken this idea of the influential smile to a new level - a level no less than world domination“, which is bold words for Mr Tumble Dryer. to achieve this, he has invented

teeth.

(okay. so it’s a bit bigger than that. he shows pinky the plans for,

and then a prototype of, a whole machine built specifically to engineer him little mousie dentures. a lot of work went into this one. shame, really.

“when did you have time to build that?”

“while you were engrossed in your mr belvedere reruns.”

“oh, i miss him. ):” )

anyway so. brain puts his teeth in.

there he is.

pinky describes this as

“enchanting (’:”

and brain affirms that it’s supposed to be. apparently the “reflective vibrations” (okay) of his smile stimulates the medula oblongata,

“causing the viewer to adore me for no good reason!”

“zort! i’m adoring you for no good reason!”

(he does point out, while brain is admiring his reflection in a nearby bunsen burner, “what if they’re wearing sunglasses?”

brain’s response is “we’ll work nights.”)

still, brain can’t just sit around in the lab twiddling his thumbs and expect the general public to Adore Him For No Reason. he needs exposure! and as pinky ponders “what would mr belvedere do,” brain asserts that he would “eat some butter”.

“i’m afraid, my friend, that you’ve seen far too much of mr belvede--”

more like mr belvIDEA lol. sorry i’ll see myself out.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain, bur it’s a miracle that this one grew back. ):”

.....okay.

thankfully, the plan is not, in fact, to amputate pinky’s leg. again???? instead, brain intends to use a weapon of “great stealth, power, and corruption.”

OUR OWN SITCOM.

✨

meanwhile, at the wb studio, we meet jerry kilmer. mr kilmer is currently being harassed by some dudes who also really, really want their own sitcom. for far less nefarious purposes, presumably.

“so there’s this guy, right?”

“and get this! he designs--”

“BIKINIS.”

“TINY LITTLE BIKINIS. OKAY okay okay okay so here’s the hook.”

“HE’S PRETENDING--”

“TO BE BLIND.”

it does not appear to be what mr kilmer is looking for.

(meanwhile, the mice are spying on the acme labs janitor. he seems like a cool dude! but the mice are not here for friendship.

they sneak into his jacket pocket!

and...... steal his.... car keys? “YES. to the television station!”

✨

this isn’t even the first vehicle he’s stolen. hopefully he’ll have this one back by curfew as well.)

they do get pulled over by the police, but i don’t want to go into that. unless you guys reaaaallly want me to. instead, they park outside the studio and harass some poor receptionist.

“excuse me. we’re here to-- pitch. as they say. a sitcóm. my dear.”

i don’t know why brain says words like that.

“appointment?”

“oh, i’m sure you can--”

“work us in.” says brain. he is sticking his ass out for no reason. all the appeal is in his sparkly dentures, so.... there’s really no need for that, my dude.

✨

“you’re next! for no good reason!”

these dudes are still here. “wait!” yells our budding comedian, “wait! check out this idea. it’s about a guy!”

original.

“who always sticks his foot in his mouth!!”

clever. unfortunately, his demonstration goes wrong, and he ends up kicking mr kilmer in the face.

bonk.

gives him a nasty black eye to boot. ouch.

“ugh. can’t i ever just see someone normal?”

good thing these very normal individuals have just shown up, huh? nothing shady about these guys. “ugh, thank goodness,” says mr kilmer. they introduce themselves politely as jonathan michael charles (left) and jamal spelling (right).

“you guys have quite a look.”

“thank you.”

✨

“alright then. what do you got for me?”

“egad, brain.”

“he’s not adoring you for no good reason!!”

“drat.”

“well. we’re young hip adults--”

“and hijinks ensue!”

“who sit on a big fat couch and whine--”

“with disaaaasterous results!!”

“and have lots of generation x friends who trade zippy, sarcastic banter.”

“and i have a monkey.”

a very original concept.

at least, mr kilmer sems to think so. “hmmm. fresh. but tell me! what really brings you here. what are jamal and jonathan all about.”

“actually, we are two lab mice involved in a broad and sweeping plan to take over the world.”

mr kilmer thinks this is hilarious, apparently.

these guys do not. but they’re not important, for the moment.

the long and short of it, anyway, is that kilmer can’t give them a sitcom because nobody knows who they are, quote unquote. “the day i see your face on the cover of peeple magazine is the day you get a sitcom.”

irritated, jamal and jonathan make their exit.

and mr kilmer laughs so hard at the idea of lab mice trying to take over the world, that he falls out of his chair.

this will become relevant later.

meanwhile -- i just had to screencap this, okay, because of brain’s face. pinky suggests that he get on the cover of peeple by marrying prince charles. and brain thinks this is a horrible idea.

he’s much more interested in princess diana. but no, pinky, the path he must follow is “the same one followed by the leading sitcom stars of the day.”

“i must become a SUCCESSFUL STANDUP COMEDIAN.”

“so hey, how about those mitochondria? do they have enough cilia or what?”

“hey, why don’t you tell a joke you know!”

this may be harder than brain thought. undeterred, though, he presses on.

“do you ever notice how when you’re looking in the mirror of a quadrant electrometre, your forehead seems large?? why is that??”

“i just flew in from cleveland! and boy are my upper extremeties fatigued by a buildup of lactic acid!”

“booooooooooooooo!” says our guy on the left.

“go back to your troll village, squirt!” says his friend on the right. “what do you say to that?”

“i find you repugnant.”

(well. that made them laugh, at least.)

“your stupidity is matched only by the ill-slipped caterpillar, that chews off its’ own wings after emerging from its’ cucoon!!!”

“in fact! all of you! are just a gaggle of pathetically misguided root diggers!!”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

“you’re all repugnant i say!!! repugnant!!!”

and with that little mousie tantrum out of his system, brain trundles off to sulk.

pinky claps him on the way out.

“egad brain! narf! they love you!”

“yes.”

so then he goes on tv, i guess.

“our comedy challenger is the master of insults! the prince of putdowns! jamal spelling!”

“you’re all a bunch of crevulating nitwits with peat moss for a cortex. repugnant!”

i don’t envy that guy third from the right. he doesn’t look like he’s having a very good time. he’s sensitive about his peat moss cranium, okay? don’t make fun of him.

NEXT ON G, HOWIE TURN HOSTS COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING.

“so, uh, jamal spelling. what kind of stupid name is that? cmon? what’s your real name?”

this would be racist if jamal spelling was a human man comedian and not like, a lab mouse. thankfully, this is not the case.

“my real name is the brain.” says brain, helpfully enunciating the “the”. “and you, my unwashed friend, are repugnant.”

HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA.

“oh, you’re hot, baby.”

okay.

but we’re, uh. we’re not going to think about that, and we’re going to go look at the david letterman show instead.

“uh, my next guest-- paul, do you know who our next guest is?”

“daaaaave, i know he’s a beautiful kind of-- nutty cat who just got us all a-wow.”

“here he is, ladies and gentlemen! for your comedy dollar, jamal spelling!!”

jamal spelling appears to be naked.

but he’s funny, so nobody minds.

“somebody here smells like a coagulated agar slant growing in a petri dish. repugnant!”

see! he’s just too comedy for clothes.

(meanwhile, we take a short trip to the office of janet mekko. “welcome, mr kilmer,” she says.

“my... secretary sent me here-- actually, i feel kind of stupid.”

“oh, honey. that’s a good thing! if there weren’t any stupid people, i wouldn’t have any business.”

“now. ya got some paaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.”

(in the distance, dan reynolds - at the tender age of eight - mumbles “you made me a, you made me a believer” in his sleep.)

“yeah.” says mr kilmer, completely unaware of this. “i fell out of my chair.”

“i’m gonna hypnotise you, so relax.”

okay.

“this’ll make you sleepy.”

“what is it?”

“a kenny g album.”

“okay. you’re in a trance. i’m gonna give you a random word. if you feel pain, say that word, you’ll feel good.”

“but careful! cause if you say it when you’re feeling good, the pain will come back! bad.”

spooky.

“and your random word is--”

“repugnant.”

there is, of course, absolutely no way this can go wrong.)

let us turn our view to happier pastures. namely, the mice are watching tv.

TONIGHT ON CIRCUS OF THE STARS

HARRY DEAN ANDERSON GETS SHOT OUT OF A GIANT PASTA MAKER

COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING FLIES THE TRAPEZE

AND BOB SAGET GETS TRAMPLED BY A BEAR. we hope.

pinky is elated! “egad, brain! circus of the stars! narf! you’ve really made it!”

pinky wants to be on circus of the stars, don’t you know. unfortunately, as he dutifully informs brain in pretty much the same breath, he hasn’t quite made it into peeple magazine yet.

“hm. it’s time to use plan b, pinky.”

“there was an a?? poit.”

ouch. jesus, pinky.

undeterred, brain marches his merry little ass over to the old timey corded phone.

beep.

“yes, connect me with buckinham palace, please.”

“egad! you did it brain! the cover of peeple!”

rule britannia is playing in the background of this scene. let’s... not think too hard about how this works, and agree that, yes, pauly shore, enough.

no more pauly shore, please.

conclusion:

jerry keeps his word, and, upon learning that jamal spelling is now legally married to princess diana (a fact which would certainly not lead to a warrant for his arrest in a couple of years) he asks him for a demo tape.

for such small hands, jamal sure does have very neat handwriting.

“make me laugh, jamal, and you got yourself a sitcom.”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

he seems to like it! kilmer makes a little hee hee noise, unprepared for where this is undoubtedly going.

“you’re repungnant!”

“AAUGHGHGHHH.”

there it is.

“repugnant!”

“i say repugnant!”

repugnant repugnant repugnant repugnant

repugnant!

and with that, jerry kilmer falls out of the window.

as he does, he yells “i’ll get you, jamal spelling” which personally i think is unfair. jamal couldn’t have known, surely? don’t be mean to jamal. he’s got a lot on his mind, what with that restraining order against howie turn.

meanwhile, in the lab, the mice debate a good pitch for a pilot (i’ve got it, brain! it’s a show about nothing!) when jamal spelling gets a call.

“hi jamal! this is nina from the tv station. could you come down for a meeting?”

“mm hmmm.”

✨

it’s the WB.

as nina types away, jamal and jonathan enter casually, like this is their house, or something. “are you pleased to see us?” asks jamal, in a cocky, egomaniac labmouse sort of way.”

“yes i am!”

(nina somehow doesn’t notice.)

anyway then these guys find the dentures and pitch the first idea that comes into their heads.

“hey cortex! what do you wanna do tonight?”

don’t ask why mouse dentures fit a human man. we suspend our disbelief here.

(also there was no way this was brain’s fault. he couldn’t have known. outside influence it is. a shame, really.)

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 14

thanks for the fun meme, @shuunthenonbeliever !

#patb #pinky and the brain #WHEEZE #if this refuses to post ONE MORE TIME #i am going to go FERAL #i have typed this all out THREE TIMES #I HAVE HAD ENOUGH #some explodey boys for y'all on saturday!#i hope.#if this episode EVER POSTS.

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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 12 - Textbook Toxic

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 5,298

warnings - language, oral (m receiving)

additional notes at the end

(previous)

The week went by uneventfully for both Alice and Dean. On Monday, Dean had his meeting with Crowley. On Tuesday the pair went out for dinner, but Alice decided to forgo spending the night at his place so she could get some more work done before school the next day. On Wednesday, she woke up feeling like crap. Mother nature kicked her in the gut and made her bleed. She always hated getting her period on a weekday, because her first day was always her worst. If she didn't have school, she would lay in bed with a heating pad on her tummy, medication pumping through her system, and a Friends rerun on TV. During the school day, she had to power through it like a grown up.

But when she got home, she changed into sweats and threw herself into bed. She wasn't even through an episode of Friends when her phone went off. She groaned in annoyance as she looked at it, only to feel a little bit better when she saw it was Dean. You wanna come over tonight? Or should I say CUM over ;)

She rolled her eyes with a chuckle as she texted him back: As tempting as that sounds, I'm feeling pretty horrible right now, so I think I'm just going to whine in bed all evening like a loser

Dean: ? Are you okay?

Alice: Just thank your body for not giving you a uterus

Dean: Ah I see

She was just about to text him back when he texted her again.

Dean: Would me coming over to cuddle help or hurt?

Alice was glad she wasn't someone who got weepy during her period, because she was sure his kindness would make her lose it if she was.

Alice: You know you're the best, right?

Dean: I know. I'll be over in twenty

True to his word, Dean was at her apartment in twenty minutes. Even as she stood up to let him in, Alice found herself wincing with every step. Medication could only help so much on her first day. Dean took in her pained expression when she opened the door and frowned. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, pulling her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head as he kicked the door closed behind him.

"Not really," she said with a sad laugh. "You'd think after eight years or whatever I'd be able to handle this when it comes around." Dean just smiled sympathetically, and the two of them went into her bedroom. They sat on the bed, and he situated her between his legs.

"Is it your stomach?" he asked. She nodded and picked up the remote to play Friends again. "How can I help you?" he asked. "Do you want me to rub your stomach? Or do you just want your heating pad?" She thought for a moment. As nice as it would be to have Dean's gentle touch on her, she didn't think it would make her feel any better.

"Can you reach my heating pad?" she asked, motioning to where she had left the pad on the end table. He nodded and grabbed it, so she lifted her shirt and put it on her lower stomach. The controls attached to the cord had four different heat settings, and she always put it on the second highest. Dean kept his arms around her, and her head was resting on his chest.

"I'm surprised you're not watching Criminal Minds," he teased.

"Friends is part of the period routine," she said with a small smile. "No one can make me feel better like Joey Tribbiani and Chandler Bing."

"Not even me?" he asked, lightly kissing her neck.

"Don't push your luck, Winchester," she said. "You're great and all, but 90s Matt LeBlanc and Matthew Perry just hit different." She could feel his chest shake as he chuckled, and she looked up at him. When he met her eyes, she put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss.

Dean ended up spending the night, and he left to head home as soon as she started getting ready for work, not wanting to get in her way and mess up her morning routine. The way she kissed him goodbye with a cup of coffee in her hand before rushing off to her bedroom to put some makeup on made him feel weird. Something about it was so domestic. It wasn't a bad thing, it just caught him off guard. They had barely known each other for three weeks, but their relationship already felt like it had been going on for so much longer.

And he liked that.

On Saturday, Alice got to the diner before Christine. AJ brought her usual coffee, and Alice told her to go ahead and put their regular order in as soon as Christine arrived. The door opened just then, and her friend walked in. AJ went to place their orders, and Christine joined Alice at the booth.

All week, Alice had been trying to decide if she should tell Christine about Dean. Dean never explicitly told her not to tell anyone about his job, but she still felt like it was supposed to be kept on the down low. But she told Christine everything, and the last thing she wanted was for something to come up in the future that she wouldn't be able to tell her about because it had something to do with Dean or his family.

"You've got something on your mind," Christine said.

Alice chuckled. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only cuz I've known you for ages," she said. Her eyes lit up hopefully. "Is it about your masters?"

For some reason, Alice felt guilty. She felt like she was letting Christine down. Christine was a constant support, and Alice had pretty much given up trying to fill out her application. It wasn't that she didn't think about it anymore. She did. It just wasn't at the forefront of her brain. It should've been. She was free of Greg. She had Dean. She loved her job. She was happy. Life was good. Wasn't now the best time to think about pursuing something more?

She vowed then to go home and spend at least an hour on the application. If this was something she was serious about, it needed to be something she put time into.

"No," Alice said, "it's about Dean."

Luckily, Christine was equally interested in that topic.

"Oh my god," she said, leaning forward so her elbows were on the table. "You guys totally fucked, right?"

"God, Christine," she said with a laugh and a roll of her eyes. "That's so not what I was gonna talk about."

"But you have?" she asked.

"No!" she said with a laugh. Christine looked unimpressed as she leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.

"I don't know if I'm more disappointed in him or you," she said. Alice pursed her lips, and a slow smile grew on Christine's face. "You're not telling me something," she said. "What have you done? Has something happened since you rode his thigh?" Alice's eyes grew wide as she looked around, like she was afraid other people were listening. No one was.

"Okay," she whispered, leaning forward, "if it'll get you off my back, I'll tell you." Now, Christine was interested. So, Alice gave her a -quite undetailed- account of what had happened on Sunday. Clearly, the lack of details wasn't acceptable for Christine.

"Was it good?" she asked. Alice knew her face was red, and she looked down at her plate. "Oh my god, you loved it."

Alice couldn't hold back any longer.

"Of course I loved it," she hissed. "I am human, you know." Christine laughed. "God, it was so great, Chris," she continued. "I didn't know stuff like that could be that great. Plus, like-" She hesitated, the embarrassment from earlier coming back. She should've just dropped it, but she knew Christine wouldn't let it go now.

"Say it," Christine said with a grin.

Alice sighed. "Okay you can't make fun of me."

"Cross my heart," Christine said. Alice looked around again to make sure no one was anywhere nearby. She leaned forward again and lowered her voice even more than it already was.

"Because you put it into my head," she said, "I, I called him daddy."

"Yes!" Christine cheered, so loudly in fact that now people were looking at them.

"God, would you shut up?" Alice said, throwing a napkin at her, glancing apologetically at the people staring at them.

"I fucking told you," Christine said. "I knew you were secretly a kinky little bitch."

"Shut up," Alice whined, hiding her face. "It totally just slipped out."

"How'd he react?" Christine asked.

"He loved it," Alice whispered, moving her hands away from her face. "Like-" She shivered at the memory of his hard cock straining against his boxers. That was something she'd keep to herself. Some memories she wanted to just be hers. "Yeah," she said. "He really liked it." Christine fanned herself playfully.

"God," she said. "I really need to get laid."

Alice laughed. "Yeah you do." Christine rolled her eyes.

"So have you done anything for him?" she asked after taking a sip of her coffee.

She sighed. "I wish we weren't talking about this in public."

"Alice, no one is listening," she said.

She was right, of course. Alice was just trying to find ways out of this conversation.

"We talked about it the other day," she admitted. "He told me it wasn't a big deal."

Christine shrugged. "Then it's probably not a big deal."

"But shouldn't I do something?" she asked. "I feel like I'm being selfish."

"If he's not asking you," Christine said, "you're not obligated." She narrowed her eyes at Alice. "You want to though, don't you?"

"I just want him to get something out of this," she admitted. "He's so nice and selfless, and, I don't know. I want to see if I can make him feel good. But-" She hesitated. "-I've never given anyone a blowjob. I don't even know how to do it." Christine clearly was biting back a laugh. "Quit it!" Alice said, wishing she had something else to throw at her. "You said you wouldn't laugh."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Christine said. "It's just, I swear blowjobs are so easy. You pretty much can't get it wrong. Just, honestly girl, go to the store and buy some popsicles to remind yourself how you suck one."

"Jesus Christ, Christine."

"You wouldn't have mentioned it if you didn't want my help."

Again, she was right.

Christine noted her silence and continued, lowering her voice for her friend's sake. She had no shame, but she didn't want Alice to get any more upset than she already was. "Listen, just, use your tongue and relax your throat. If you can't take him all, use your hand. Don't rub him dry though, cuz that won't feel good. Make sure you get your saliva all up in there." Alice laughed a little, which had been Christine's goal. "And squeeze his balls. They like that. And don't use your teeth."

Alice scoffed. "I'm not an idiot."

Christine smiled, and then her eyes popped a bit as she remembered something. "Okay," she said, leaning close to her friend again, "if he's a decent guy, he's gonna let you know before he cums. He might even ask you where you want him to cum."

"Where do I want him to cum?" Alice asked cluelessly. Christine tilted her head from side to side as she thought.

"You could swallow, but I swear, that shit tastes nasty," she said. "Don't believe any of the shit you read. It does not taste good. There's no way to spin it." Alice crinkled her nose, and Christine shrugged. "But some guys find it super hot if you do."

"Or?"

"Or," she continued, "you finish him off with your hand and -if you don't have a shirt on- he could cum on your tits. Or your face. Or you could just let it fall where it falls." Christine chuckled. "If you really want to please him, you'll ask him where he wants to cum." Quickly, she added, "But don't do that if you're not comfortable with all the options. Again, if he's a decent guy, he'll just want you to be comfortable, especially if he knows it's your first time."

"Okay," she said with a slow nod. "Okay. I can do that."

"Oh, and eye contact," she said. "Guys love that shit, and you'll hit even harder cuz you got that whole innocent-doe-eyed look."

Alice laughed but nodded with another, "Okay."

They finished up their breakfasts, but both of them still had coffee, so they kept chatting. After a lull in the conversation, Christine said, "So what were you gonna talk about?"

Alice furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"When you first mentioned Dean," she said, "I immediately brought up sex, but you said that wasn't what you were gonna talk about. What did you want to talk about?"

Right. The actual news she had to share.

"Oh yeah," she said. "You know how I said he's a businessman?" Christine nodded, and Alice hesitated. "You can't breathe a word of this to anyone," she said. "Okay?"

"Okay," Christine said. Alice wasn't completely satisfied, so she held out her pinky. "Seriously?" Christine said. Alice took pinky swears very seriously, so when she didn't respond, Christine sighed and hooked her pinky with hers. Alice leaned as close to Christine as she could over the table, and Christine met her halfway.

"Dean's a mob boss."

Christine sat back as confusion took over her features. "Here?" she said. "In Kansas?"

"No, in Idaho," Alice retorted. "Yes in Kansas."

"I thought the mob was only in big cities," she said, "like New York or Chicago." Alice shrugged.

"I know he's not lying," she said, "because I went to one of his meetings on Sunday."

"You what?" Christine said. "Are you crazy?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If the mob is anything like I think it is," she said, "the closer you get to Dean, the more danger you'll be in."

"Dean will protect me," she said matter-of-factly.

"Don't be naive," Christine said. "Don't you watch enough Criminal Minds?" Alice just raised her eyebrows. "Could Hotch protect Haley when George Foyet held her and Jack at gunpoint?"

"Really?" she said. "That's your argument?"

"I'm just trying to speak your language," she said. "Dean can say he'll protect you all he wants, but the bad guys always go after the person closest to their enemy. What are you going to do if that person for Dean is you?"

"I'm not," she said. "He would do anything for Sam, and I'm sure Lucifer knows that."

"Lucifer?" Christine repeated.

Alice cringed, wondering if she shouldn't have used his name. Well, she was in too deep now. "He's one of the other mob bosses in the area," she said. "Dean and the other guy, Crowley, are hatching a plan to kill him."

Christine threw her hands in the air in disbelief. "None of this bothers you?" she said. "Alice, this is textbook toxic."

"No it's not," Alice snapped back. "I've already lived textbook toxic, remember? This is different. Dean would never hurt me."

"Not on purpose," Christine said. "But like I said, how's he going to stop someone else from doing it?" Alice was getting annoyed now.

"If you met him, you wouldn't be saying any of this," she said. Christine didn't say anything. Her arms were folded across her chest again, and her right eyebrow was twitching, something that only happened when she was really mad. "Please," Alice whispered. "I just want you to be happy for me. Give him a chance."

"I am happy for you," she said. "I'm glad you found someone who treats you right, but you still have rose colored glasses on. You've only known him for three weeks. I just want to make sure you're thinking all this through."

Alice had thought about this too. She wasn't naive. She knew she and Dean were still in the early stages of their relationship and that things could very well take a turn for the worst, but she was completely and utterly under his spell. There was no going back. Not really. Three weeks in with Dean was completely different than three weeks in with Greg had been. To her, that was a sign towards success.

"I know," she said to Christine. "I am. I swear." She paused. "My dads want to meet him." Christine's hard expression quickly changed to a gentle smile.

"Really?" she said.

Alice nodded. "I guess I've been talking about him a lot to Dad whenever I'm on the phone. Mark said it's about time."

"Do they know he's, like, significantly older than you?" she said.

"Actually yeah," she said with a slight laugh. "Mark wasn't totally for it at first, but Dad was able to calm him down and get him on board. He was older than my mom, so he gets it. I think."

"Nice," Christine said with a laugh. "I think my dad would kill the guy."

"Yeah well, my dads think if a guy can fix a car, he's good enough."

"And Dean can fix a car?"

"He drives a '67 Impala that he's rebuilt, like, three times."

"I don't know what a '67 Impala is, but I take it it's good?"

"To my dads it's better than porn."

"You're disgusting."

When Alice got home, she sat in front of her computer and opened up the blank document she had saved as MASTERS ESSAY. Despite the late night she had pulled at school a few weeks ago to work on it, she still only had the prompts written at the top: Why do you need this degree at this juncture in your life? What are your short- and long-term career goals? What are you most proud of?

She decided to just write everything that came to her mind, even if she knew she wasn't 100% making sense. She just needed to get all the garbage out to make room for the good stuff.

She was on a roll when her phone rang. Without even looking up from her computer, she pressed accept and put it on speaker. "Yeah?" she said.

On the other end, Dean laughed. "Well hi to you too."

"Sorry," she said, lifting her fingers off the keys and picking up her phone to put it to her ear. "I was distracted."

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked. She looked at the clock and saw that she had already been working for over an hour.

"No, you're good," she said. "What's up? Why'd you call?"

"Can't I just call my girlfriend for no reason?" he asked.

"No," she said, a smile on her face.

He laughed again. "Alright, you caught me. Was wondering if you were planning on coming to dinner tonight."

"Crap," she said, putting her forehead on her hand. "Yes, yes, I'm planning on it. I just totally forgot. Were we supposed to make anything? I still have time to whip something-"

"Hey, hey, relax," Dean said with a chuckle. "We're just in charge of drinks tonight. I'm gonna pick up a couple bottles of wine on my way there."

"Okay," she said. "Sounds good."

"You sound stressed," he said. She shrugged even though he couldn't see her.

"I guess I am a little," she said. "But it's no big deal. My neck is aching through. I feel like I've been sitting at the computer for a year."

"Let me come over," he said. "I'll give you a massage." His tone was teasing, but she knew he was being somewhat serious.

"If you do," she said, "can you promise not to distract me?"

"I cannot," he said.

She giggled. "At least you're honest. Be here in twenty?"

"I'll make it 17."

Somehow, true to his very specific word, Dean was at Alice's door in 17 minutes. She buzzed him into the building and resumed her position on the floor by the coffee table where her computer was sitting. She was still working on the application essay even though nothing worthwhile was coming out. Dean came into the apartment, confused for a moment when he didn't immediately spot Alice. He saw the top of her head over the couch and laughed. "What're you doing on the floor?" he asked, walking over to her.

"I think better," she said.

"What do you have to think so hard about?" he asked.

"Just writing," she said.

"Writing what?" he pressed, sitting behind her on the couch so her back was now against his legs.

"Shh," she said playfully. "More massaging, less talking." Dean chuckled and made her scoot forward so he could sit behind her on the floor, not wanting to hunch over as he massaged her. He spread his legs so she was nestled between them, and he put his hands on her shoulders.

They were both quiet as Alice continued to work and Dean massaged her. She told him he could put the TV on at a low hum so he wasn't bored out of his mind. He thanked her and flicked on Game of Thrones, which was perfect because Alice didn't care about it so she wasn't distracted. They were together with only the hum of the TV making noise for a full episode until Dean clearly started to get bored. He didn't play the next episode. Instead, he brushed some of Alice's hair over her shoulder so her neck was exposed to him. He started kissing her skin, glancing at her computer to see if he could catch her reflection. The screen was too bright, so he only saw what she was working on.

"I didn't know you wanted to go to grad school," he said. She bit her upper lip and shrugged.

"Yeah," she said.

"What do you want to study?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It's stupid."

"What are you talking about?" Dean said, squeezing her shoulders lightly. "It's not stupid. It's great." She turned her head to look at him and noticed the sincerity in his eyes.

"You're serious?" she said.

"Of course I am," he said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Alice thought for a moment. Now was the perfect time to open up about Greg. She didn't have to go into all of it, but there was no reason she couldn't tell him a little bit. "Um, I had a boyfriend in college," she said after clearing her throat. "He didn't think it was smart for me to pursue a masters."

"Why not?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I probably won't get in anyway, and why break focus on the career I already have?"

"So he didn't want you to better your career?" he asked.

She scoffed. "Yeah. Pretty much I guess."

"Well, fuck that guy," Dean said, squeezing her shoulders again. "Tell me what you want to study. I'm sure it's great." She smiled softly and stared down at her hands. Dean started pressing kisses to her neck again while she composed her thoughts.

"Applied Behavior Analysis," she said.

"Mm?" Dean hummed. "What's that?"

"It's basically the study of behavior," she said. "Like, what causes it and why it happens and what the consequences are. Because every behavior serves a purpose, and knowing why someone does what they do helps us understand them as a whole."

Dean didn't even have to see her face to know she was smiling. It was clear to him that she had been aching to talk to someone about this -something she was clearly so passionate about- but had been holding back, probably because of her asshole ex-boyfriend.

"It's one reason I love Criminal Minds so much," she continued. "It's like, their whole job as profilers is to understand people's behaviors and how it makes up who they are."

"So you want to join the FBI?" he teased.

"No," she said with a giggle. "It's also good for teaching. Like, I'm a gen-ed elementary teacher, but I still have students with special needs in my classroom, and it always frustrates me when I don't know how to help them. I have one BD student, and-"

"BD?" Dean repeated.

"Sorry," she said. "It's an abbreviation. Behavior disorder."

"Got it," he said.

She continued. "Right, so his name's Peter, and he can get violent sometimes. Like, almost every time we're about to start our math lesson, he comes at me with anything he can get his hands on. Sometimes it's his pencil or my stapler or his scissors, but sometimes it's just his little fists. But it's not his fault he does that. Something in his brain is convincing him that lashing out will help him, and if I can understand that better, I can help him more."

Alice was barely breathing at all between her sentences, and she didn't even care that she was rambling. Dean had stopped kissing her neck and now just had his chin resting in on her shoulder. "You know how I told you I like the movie Good Will Hunting?" she said.

"Mhm," he hummed.

"Have you ever seen it?" she asked. Dean shook his head no. "It's so good. Matt Damon plays a guy with a crazy high IQ but a lot of, like, bursts of anger and abandonment issues. He starts going to therapy, and his therapist is Robin Williams, which doesn't matter but it does because he's such a good actor." Dean chuckled, and Alice continued. "The more he opens up and the more Robin Williams is able to understand and help him, the better he gets. The difference between helping adults with behavior problems and kids with behavior problems is obviously huge, but the basics are the same. And that's what I want to learn more about. I know it's cliche and cheesy and stuff, but that movie helped me realize that the more we push aside kids who struggle, the worse they get, and the more likely we are to lose them to violence and crime and alcohol and drugs."

Alice finally took a deep breath, then clicked save on her document. "Sorry," she said with a chuckle. "I totally just went off."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "I love that you're passionate about that."

"Yeah," she sighed, "well, how come I can't put all of that passion into writing?"

Dean kissed her cheek. "You'll get there."

Alice turned around and looked at Dean, resting her hand on his cheek. "You're really awesome, you know that right?" she whispered. He smirked.

"I do," he said, "but it's always great to be reminded." She just giggled and pressed her lips to his, kissing him and crawling onto his lap. He groaned against her lips and gripped her hips in his hands. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she rolled her hips against his. She started kissing across his cheek and down to his neck, smiling when she heard him let out a heavy sigh.

Dean jumped when he felt Alice fumble with the buckle of his belt. "Hey, hey, sweetheart," he said, grabbing her hands. "What're you doing?" She didn't look at him, just kept lightly kissing his neck.

"I think," she whispered, "now would be a great time for me to make you feel good." Dean wanted to keep his composure. He refused to melt under this girl's touch, but Christ, it was her fucking sweet tone that killed him.

"If you're sure," he said. She nodded, then pulled away from his neck.

"I'm sure," she said, looking in his eyes. He licked his lips before pressing them to hers, threading his fingers in her hair. She kissed him back, easily getting lost in that drunk feeling he gave her. "Okay," she said as she pulled away, escaping the kisses Dean kept trying to give her. "Okay. Sit on the couch."

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am." He moved to the couch, and she straddled his waist again, pulling her t-shirt over her head. She could tell he wanted to kiss her, but she stopped him by pushing his flannel off his shoulders.

Why did he always wear so many layers?

When he was in only his black t-shirt, she reached for the hem and pulled that over his head too. She kept her hands pressed on the couch on either side of his head and started leaving open-mouthed kisses down his body. She moved so her knees were on the ground and unbuckled his jeans, pulling them down his legs. He helped her by lifting his butt so she could get them off with more ease. His boxers came right after, and Alice had to stop herself from gasping like a weirdo.

She had seen a penis once in her life, and it was because she googled penis because she was so sick of not knowing what one looked like. So this? This was her first real penis. And she didn't know much, but she knew Dean had to have been considered big.

She ran her tongue up the underside of his cock, giving it slow kitten licks. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and locked eyes with him. When she did, she wrapped her mouth around him and took his cock, inch by inch. She kept her throat relaxed, just like Christine said, and did her best not to gag when he hit the back of her throat. She pulled away completely so she could suck the tip before sinking down on him again.

"Oh fuck," Dean grunted. His hand moved to her hair, and she looked up at him again as she pulled back.

"Should I go faster?" she whispered, swirling her tongue around him.

"God, sweetheart," he said. "Whatever you want. You're doing so good." She hummed around his cock, and he barely whispered another, "Fuck." He kept his fingers gripped in her hair, though he didn't force her movements at all.

It was taking everything in his power not to lose it right then and there. He wanted to fuck her mouth until tears streamed from her eyes, but he held back. She felt so good wrapped around his cock like that, and the way she kept looking up at him made him moan and tug her hair a little bit. She moaned as well, the vibrations destroying him. "S-Sweetheart," he said, "I, I'm, fuck I'm gonna cum, baby." She pulled back and lazily rubbed his cock, not quite enough to make him cum, but still keeping him on that edge.

"Where do you want to cum?" she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.

"Fuck, ah-" He tried to concentrate. "It's, it's up to you baby."

She had no idea why she decided this considering everything Christine said at breakfast, but Alice put her mouth back on him and continued sucking him off, now dragging her nails up his thighs so she could gently squeeze his balls. He let out a strangled, "Fuck," and came in her mouth. She swallowed most of it but pulled away towards the end so some of it ended up dribbling on her chin. Dean's chest heaved, and he leaned forward and wiped the cum off her chin with his thumb. He was ready to pull back, but she grabbed his thumb and sucked it between her lips, licking it clean before allowing him to pull it away with a pop.

"Jesus Christ, Alice," he said, chuckling in disbelief. "You're fucking incredible, you know that right?" She giggled and shrugged.

"It's nice to be reminded."

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A/N - whatever you do don’t watch sexy Dean Winchester compilation videos if you’re single and a virgin because it gives you FEELINGS that only YOU can handle because you do NOT have a Dean Winchester at your disposal

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ella-se-vuelve-loca · 4 years

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Chapter 18

Grand Masterlist

Series Masterlist

I wrote this chapter a little while back and I’m pretty sure it needs some editing, but here you guys go! This is kind of a short chapter though I’m ngl

Previous Chapter

~ 4 months later ~

Joel’s P.O.V.

“We’re so happy to have you boys here with us today!” The interviewer spoke into the microphone. “How are you guys? How’s the tour going so far?”

“Aahh it’s been great! We love being able to travel again and seeing our amazing fans.” Richard smiled. “We’ve missed being on the road.”

“I just saw you guys last night.” The other interviewer said. “You guys were amazing!”

“Aye thank you bro! We hoped you enjoyed the performance.” Chris chuckled. “I did! I mean you guys give 110% every single time in these performances. My daughter loved you and hopes to see you again in concert.”

“Thank you so much, man.” I smiled and reached for my cup of coffee that was on the table. “Think you can give us a little performance one of your songs for all those cncowners listening in on the radio right now?”

“Yeah no problem. Let’s do it..” Richard spoke as he started off on our single ‘De Cero’. It’s been a couple of months, but I still miss her. I eventually told my group that we weren’t seeing each other anymore. I thought it was time that I came clean to everyone and told them everything and not hold anything back. My relationship with the boys changed a bit, I guess I’m lucky that they don’t hold grudges.

Richard told me that it was the right thing to do, with coming clean to everyone, so we can work on where we go from here. I feel out of the loop these days because I feel like everyone is judging me, but at least they know now and I don’t have to carry that secret with me anymore. I just have to carry the guilt of me hurting someone I love and doesn’t want to see me.

“Wow. Beautiful voices.” The interviewer clapped. “No wonder you boys won La Banda. You guys have a gift.” I looked at all the boys as they smiled at the compliments we were getting. “Aye thank you man.” Richard chuckled. “Let’s get into the more juicy stuff while we got you here…”

After the interview, it’s off to sound check we go. We walked on stage and our crew handed us our microphones. “Okay, just do a rerun of ‘Pretend’ and let’s see how that works.” I held the mic up to my lips as I started off the song.

“I only love you in the middle of the night

That's when you're on my mind

Every time I get the feeling I can't fight

And I know it just ain't right”

Maybe this is a sign that I should just leave (Y/N) alone, considering the fact that I can’t ever really talk to her again because of Johann. I don’t want to leave her in the hands of him though. If I can’t be with her, then I want someone who’s gonna love her like I should’ve to be in her life. I want her to be happy, even if it’s not with me… I just can’t stop thinking about her though.

“Al borde de perderte otra vez

Ahora que estás tan dentro de mi piel

No sé qué puedo hacer si estás con él

But for now we just pretend”

I looked around and saw Zabdiel sitting down on one of the steps, patiently waiting for his part to come on as Christopher was now singing his verse. Not trying to make a high school musical reference here, but I need to get my head in the game.

She will randomly just pop up in my mind and make me miss her when I shouldn’t. I can’t be looking like a lost puppy up on stage while having our cncowners glance my way and wonder if I’m okay. I need to just focus on giving out an amazing performance for our fans.

We continued singing and practicing our dance routines until we were granted some time to ourselves. I walked around the stage as I could hear the rest of my bandmates talking and Christopher laughing up a storm. I have an idea of how I can somehow apologize to her without mentioning her name through the power of music. I just have to go over this with the guys first and really talk about how I can do this. “Hey, Richard?” I called out as he turned around to look at me. “Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you about something?” He nodded and walked my way. “Sure, what’s up?”

(Y/N)’s P.O.V.

“So, what do you think?” Johann asked me. “I.. I really don’t know about this.” I wrapped my arms around myself as I thought about his idea. “My acting skills are not the best.” I chuckled as he took my hands into his own and smiled. “Oh c’mon.” He laughed. “I’m not gonna judge you. Just think of this as like… a fun activity for us to do together that will just so happen to be posted on my YouTube channel.”

“With this song that you picked?” I asked. “It’s just a song, (Y/N). I’m not asking you to sing, just act..” I sighed and looked at anywhere but him. I still think about what could’ve happened if I had made it just in time before Joel left. Johann told me that he couldn’t wait for me and left without another word, but somehow I don’t fully believe him.

I saw how Joel was days before he left – he was begging on his knees… and Johann told me that he didn’t want much to do with me anymore when we ate breakfast together that morning. I wondered why he was there, but I guess it made sense as the two of them are friends and he wanted to see him one last time before he left.

“Please? It’s so difficult to find somebody else on a short notice and you’re already here..” He smiled once more as I thought about it. It shouldn’t be all that bad, right? This could maybe be fun, considering what the song he’s singing is all about. Being with him has helped a little with forgetting about my broken heart, but it’s time to finally forget about him. I can’t stay stuck on Joel forever.

“Okay..” I nodded my head. “I’ll do it. It’s just acting, right?” He clapped his hands and smiled at me. “Of course. Alright, let’s get this started. I owe you so much for this!”

“Wow, look at you.” I chuckled as Johann came out with a jacket on and spun around, showing off the article of clothing. “Ah, muy guapo, eh?” He smiled as we stood in a hot pink LED lit room as we waited for instructions for the video.

“Again, thank you so much for this. It means a lot.” He said. “Hey, it’s no problem. I’m just happy to help out a friend.” I gave him a side smile as I fixed my hair. “We’ve already run through with you what we’re gonna do, it’s really simple.” I nodded at the cameraman and moved my hair off to the side, clearing my throat. “I got it.”

Soon after a couple of minutes, the music started playing and we both got into character. I turned around to look at him as he smiled at me, slowly walking my way. There’s 3 different scenes that have to be done and I’m in only 2 of them. This is a whole new territory for me because I’ve personally have never been in a music video before. He continued lip syncing to me as we got closer and closer.

“Great, now bring your hand up and – that’s it!” I brought my hand up and slowly slid my fingers down his chest, slightly opening up his jacket, revealing his skin to me as I slowly looked up at him. This actually became a lot more sensual than I thought it would just looking up at him. It’s been a few months and it hurts a little less whenever I think about Joel, but it’s not completely gone. I guess Johann is doing a pretty good job at keeping my thoughts occupied with something else.

“Spin her around.” The director yelled over the music as Johann took my hand in his and slowly twirled me around. I laughed and tried to keep my mind off of the last time I danced with Joel. Stop thinking about him, (Y/N), It’s over.

He stood behind me and brought his hands down to my waist, keeping me there as he buried his face in my hair. I leaned my head slightly to the side and smiled. It’s a little awkward just having people off to the side just watching us, but at the same time, it was pretty fun and interesting to see a little side of his world.

I was pushed up against a wall, my left arm in the air as he brought his head down close to my neck as I chuckled. His breath against me tickled as I looked off to the side. I know it’s been a couple of months, but every once in a while, I’ll hear Joel’s song on the radio or on my playlist pop up and all those memories will come rushing back into my mind as I thought about what if.

Before I knew it, we were finished with the first scenes of the video and had to get started on part two. It’s time I start to get over Joel, it’s been a little while now.

I leaned against the brick wall as Johann stood a couple of feet ahead of me. I’m still not quite sure how I feel about him lip syncing this song to me, but it’s too late now to back out of it. I soon heard the music playing and immediately got into character. I walked past him on the concrete street, pretending to mind my own business as he walked closer to me with a cocky smirk on his face.

He grabbed onto my hand as I pulled away, moving a strand of hair away from my face as I looked at him. He kept his gaze on mine as he slowly walked closer to me until my back was against the brick wall before I pushed him away from me. This is a slight contrast to how the first scenes with him went.

We stood next to each other as I pretended to be hurt as he raised his eyebrow and smirked, following me as I slowly walked in front of him. I don’t quiet know why he chose me to be in this video with him, the song is literally kind of throwing Joel under the bus.

I turned to face him as he held reached for my hand and led us into a slow dance as I smiled at him. I’ve never been apart of a music video before, but so far this is actually pretty fun. He’s not that bad looking, now that I’m actually really looking at him, but I don’t think I see him as anything other than a friend.

My back was against the brick wall as he leaned one of his arms above my head and looked down at me. He continued lip syncing the lyrics to me until he slowly brought his head down. I could feel his breath against my lips and wondered if he was actually gonna go through with it until I heard someone yell cut. Johann pulled away and gave me a smile, taking my hands in his. “All that’s left is my part.” He chuckled as my face must’ve been a little red.

I know we’re not together anymore, but it just felt like I was cheating or something. Like I was cheating on my heart, on my feelings I still have for him. “Come on, let’s go get a bite to eat. We won’t start on my little scene until later on. So in the meantime..” He fixed his hair and turned to me. “Let’s go pick up pizza for everyone. Don’t worry, someone already called it in. It’s our job to bring it back here.”

He held out his arm for me to take before I linked us together. “We’ll be back in 15.” Johann yelled out as we walked down the street to find a place to pick up some food. “What did you think?” He asked me. “Did you have fun?”

I chuckled and slowly nodded my head. “I have to say, it was more fun than I thought it would be.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad.” We walked into a pizza restaurant that was close by and told them that we had already called in an order and were here to pick it up. “I know a lot of people think I’m not a good guy.” He spoke. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“What I mean is that all of Joel’s fans don’t think I’m good enough for him. They think that I’m riding on the back of his fame and that I’m not.. genuine or something.” He said. “Joel is my friend and I would never do anything to hurt him. Sure, being with him is starting to give myself a name, but not the one I’m hoping for.” I frowned as he continued. “I know you don’t really wanna talk about him, but I don’t want you to think the same thing they do. Am I a bad person for wanting to hang out with my friend?”

I shook my head. “No, of course not. Joel... is your friend who just so happens to be a celebrity. It’s not your fault for wanting to be with him and not get judged.”

“I guess being with him comes with some sort of price now, does it?” I slowly nodded. “I guess it does..” We waited a few more minutes until they handed us the box as I took out my wallet. “Nu – uh – uh, (Y/N). I got this.” Johann said as I shook my head.

“It’s fine, really. This is the least I could do since you let me be in your little music project. This is me saying thank you.” He smiled and pulled away. “If you insist.”

After we had brought the pizza back to the rest of Johann’s crew and ate, I decided that it was time for me to go on home and get some rest. “The video will be posted up soon, we just have to edit and fix some scenes but I’ll let you know when it’s up.” He smiled at me as he walked me to my car. “Okay, great. Thanks for letting me be a part of this project.”

“No, thank you for agreeing to do this with me last minute.” He chuckled as I got to my car door. “Well, I uh guess I’ll see you later.” I said. He nodded and lifted one of my hands up to his lips and planted a small kiss on top. “I’ll see you later.” He smiled and backed away, letting me open up my door and getting inside. I strapped on my seatbelt and started my car.

Why did he do that? Where did that little kiss come from? I turned my head and waved bye to him through the window as I drove off. I had fun doing this, I’m not gonna lie, but being that close with him brought up a lot of confused feelings.

Next Chapter

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thran-duils · 4 years

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Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 10)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 10) Summary: Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,014 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Chap 9 || Chap 11 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost

The next envelope that showed up contained an airline ticket to Hawaii.

I feel the need to make up to you. I sincerely apologize for my miscalculation. Please use this ticket to meet me and I can apologize in person. Inclusive stay and all. Yours truly, Castiel.

You tore the ticket and the note up and put the pieces as far down in the trash can as you could to avoid Sam and Dean spotting them. Slamming the lid closed, you stormed out of the kitchen.

Avoiding being vague on the details of your call with Castiel, you confided with them that you had snapped at him. Your calling him out outright only made this situation all the more unstable, and they needed to be in the loop. Rightfully so, Dean and Sam were not keen on you going out alone for walks anymore. Or out alone at all for that matter and for once during this whole debacle, you agreed. They did not leave you alone at the bunker either and you found yourself biting your nails whenever one of them would leave. Horrible things crossed your mind about what Castiel would do if he kidnapped one of them.

The days passed, your body refusing to fully relax. You were having trouble sleeping again and more than once you found one or both of the boys up and about at an ungodly hour, same as you. Netflix was sure getting its use.

One afternoon, Sam knocked on your door, peeking his head through the crack. You lowered your phone, pausing your dissection of the historical non-fiction you were reading.

“Jody called.”

You began to sit up, concerned, “Is she—”

Quickly, Sam added, “She’s fine. Don’t worry.” You relaxed back onto your elbow, waiting for him to continue. He stepped further into the room. “She’s got what sounds like a case. She doesn’t want to go it alone though. So…”

“So.”

“Are you comfortable going? It was a little awkward I had to tell her I needed to call back. Made up some excuse about your feeling unwell and I needed to check cause the vomiting I was hearing.” He sighed and came another step closer. “I don’t want to force you. But I don’t want to leave you here alone especially with this being states away. If you aren’t comfortable, I can reach out to some others in her area and have them help her out instead of us.”

Too quickly, you said, “That won’t’ be necessary. We can do it.” Sam said nothing, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “Really. She’s our friend. The least we can do for all the help she’s given us is go for her. I’d feel pretty selfish if we didn’t.”

Sam took that in, nodding in understanding a few moments later. “I get that. Well, I’ll give her a call back. Tell her yeah we can do it and that you’re just hungover; no need to worry about the vomit.”

You chuckled, “Seems believable enough.”

<> <> <>

Falling back onto the couch, you sighed content. Jody was making dinner in the kitchen, a thank you for the assist on the hunt. You could hear Sam in there helping her out. Freshly showered and wrapping yourself up in a fuzzy blanket, you turned the TV on. Dean would come out shortly after he finished showering.

Coming to a stop on Walking Dead, you put the remote down on the coffee table. Zombies were one thing you never wanted to face down, but it was fun to watch.

Jody poked her head into the room, seeing the TV. “Rerun. I was about to tell you to not spoil it if you had Netflix on. I’m only on season six.”

“Super far behind.”

“What can I say? Not usually a lot of time for TV. You want a drink? I’ve got pretty much everything.”

You nodded, asking her for your go to, and thanked her.

As she turned to leave, your phone lit up.

Great.

Reluctantly, you picked it up, nervous about what you were going to find.

I hope you are not still irritated with me, kitten. Perhaps something lowkey to smooth things over? Dinner? We are overdue.

Snorting annoyed, you tossed your phone back down onto the table, refusing to respond.

<> <> <>

When you returned home a couple of days later, he tried again.

What must I do to get back into your good graces? I am at your mercy.

“You were never in my good graces,” you muttered out loud to no one.

<> <> <>

“Zeek invited us down for his birthday, We didn’t go last year.”

This invitation is how you found yourselves in Hot Springs, AR. Admittedly, you had been going stir crazy after coming home from the hunt with Jody and a bar sounded like a good escape. Especially one with friends and even more so, friends who were all hunters. Surrounded by them made you feel more relaxed. Or it was the alcohol. Or a combination of the two. Regardless, you were having fun.

Reaching across the table, you grasped Sam’s arm. “Alright, it’s been a half hour. Can we have another shot yet?”

“Uh, I said an hour. Not a half hour.”

“Man, fuck this. You aren’t our dad,” Dean declared, slamming his hands down on the table as he got up.

You snorted as Sam shook his head, “You’ll regret it in the morning, Dean.”

Defiantly, Dean pointed at Sam and said, “For that old joke, I’m gonna take two now!”

“You’ve already had four and two beers!”

Zeek came up from behind Sam, slurring his words, “Have as much as you want, Dean. It’s my birthday!”

“Hell yeah, it is! Happy birthday!” Dean returned loudly, causing a chorus around him to shout out happy birthday in agreement in Zeek’s direction.

Again, Sam shook his head, smirking a little. “Not the people you should be taking drinking advice from right now.”

“We’ll get you one too, Sammy. Loosen up that stick that’s in your ass,” Dean told him, clapping him on the shoulder as he went by.

“You’re supposed to help me, Y/N,” Sam jokingly scolded you. “Letting me down big time here.”

To appease him, you took a long drink of water. “Better?”

“The only way you won’t be hung over tomorrow is if you keep that up between shots.”

“Duly noted.” Looking around, you asked, “Wasn’t there supposed to be nachos coming?”

Suddenly remembering as well, Sam followed your gaze to the kitchen. “Yeah…”

“Who’s drunk now?”

“Better off than you,” Sam quipped. “I’ll go check on it. It has been awhile. Don’t take the shots without me.”

“Scouts honor. I might go to the bathroom though, so don’t take them without me!”

Sam promised and left the table. You sat for a few moments, tapping your fingers on the table. You really did have to go to the bathroom. Better do it before they got back. When you stood up, you stumbled a little, quickly correcting yourself.

“Whoops,” you giggled quietly to yourself. You took another long drink of water for good measure and then headed towards the bathroom.

You held back a groan seeing how long the line was. The men’s room was on the other side and you contemplated playing too drunk to notice if anyone said anything about you going in there. Solid enough plan. You backed away from the line and turned to go across to the other hall.

When you entered the hall, you frowned realizing the door said ‘exit’ not bathroom. There were woods outside… or maybe an outhouse.

It was a process to make sure you did not pee on yourself as you squatted in the woods right outside the bar. Proud of yourself, you stumbled back through the sticks and undergrowth to the door, barely avoiding tripping over a spare piece of wood that you hissed a curse at.

The door did not budge when you pulled.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you groaned. “It should say locks behind you!”

You gave the door a swift kick of annoyance before huffing and turning away from it. You pouted as you began to walk around the building towards the front to go back inside. You were sure Sam and Dean would tease you mercilessly so you thought you should keep it to yourself and say you had just gone outside for air.

Coming around the corner, you startled, letting out a small yelp as you came face to face with Castiel.

“I am beginning to have the suspicion you are actively avoiding me,” he informed you calmly. He was dressed in an all blue, crisp suit, black gloves adorning his hands, completely out of place for this backwoods bar.

Swallowing sharply, you felt the numbness of shock thrumming through you at the fact he was standing there in front of you. Your eyes flicked to the front deck, where no one was standing despite the warm air inside and all the smokers.

“Love, you know I took risk coming here to this hunter’s den all so I could speak with you,” Castiel remarked, moving his head to lock eyes with you to get your attention back. He rose his brows expectantly, “Can you please grant me a few moments considering that?”

Defeated at being cornered, you made to shrug but lost your balance, having to quickly catch yourself on the side of the bar.

Castiel reached out protectively to catch you, his hands holding you tight. “How much have you imbibed? Truly? You know that is terrible for your body.”

Snorting at generally everything he said, you told him, “Really? You’re going to chastise me about drinking?”

Steadying you, Castiel informed you tightly, “Quite so. Nobody else in your life appears to care about your health. I should order my men to teach those Winchesters a lesson, frankly, for allowing you to get so damn drunk. When I told them to watch out for you in my absence, I meant it.”

He had his cell out and you realized he really meant to text his men. This meant they were really inside and despite all the friends, they could seriously injure the guys before they got taken down most likely.

“Don’t!” you exclaimed, reaching for his phone.

He yanked it away from you quickly. “Kitten, it is rude to try to reach for other people’s things without permission.”

“Sorry,” you blurted, recoiling. “Don’t do that please. I’m listening. I swear.”

A fleeting smile, “That is all I wanted.” His cell was slipped neatly back into his jacket. He took a step closer to you, “I was beside myself with loneliness in Hawaii. The beaches lacked luster without you. Being stood up… have you ever been? No, I do not imagine you have. It is not a good feeling to say the least. Especially since it was you that did it. And then refusing to even politely decline dinner?”

Before you could say anything, he pressed on, “Come. Join me at my rental. It is on the lake and I am sure you will find it more than agreeable.”

You looked at him taken aback at this invitation to join him overnight. Castiel had a tough time holding back his frustration, “Y/N, please. Give me more credit than that. I do not think of you as some cheap trollop. On my word as a gentleman, I expect nothing more than your company.”

Mind racing, you weighed your options. If you refused him, his men might hurt Sam and Dean. If you went with… you were at his mercy. All alone.

“Come now,” Castiel held out his hand for you to take. “I am sure by now you are being sought out due to absence. Please do not make me spend the night alone in that big empty house.”

He was elated when you placed your hand in his and he helped you to his car.

Driving away, you remembered your phone was still at the table.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass

#castiel x reader #castiel fic #psycho!cas #supernatural fantasy #spn fanfic #psycho!castiel #supernatural fic #spn fic #castiel fanfic #my shit

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nthnstrky007 · 3 years

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Unit Alias #1: “The Flow of Water Breaks the Dame!”

As the bullets whizzed passed my head, only one thought stood out from all the noise and panic around me: I know I should have eaten toast instead of that bagel this morning. It’s just, I get so tired of the same old whole wheat toast and almond butter; it’s not my fault the fabric of reality starts to fold in on itself everytime I choose something new for breakfast. After another twenty seconds of some mindless brutes trying to turn my apartment into a modern artist’s tribute to swiss cheese, a voice of remote reason finally speaks up:

“Leonardo Crews, please step away from the bean bag chair”.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. It’s her: Sharon Winstead. The woman who would surely be my handler if the US government had their way and I became a secret agent or lab rat or whatever the heck they’d want me to do with these powers. I stand up and make a couple steps to the right as I put my hands on my head. At least the government sent a nice pair of legs to yell at me.

One of the armed boneheads she brought with her speaks up, ‘Why would you hide behind a froggy bean bag chair?”

“Cause who the hell would ever shoot a froggy bean bag chair?” I challenge him and the two other armored doofuses.

They all mumble and meet eyes until one of them sheepishly says: “he’s right…”

Sharon, the not so love-able stick in the mud that she is, won’t let me have fun for too long. “Your work here is done unit Alias. Go downstairs and do the usual routine with the landlord; come back, as I planned, when you’re done”.

A couple ‘yes ma’ams’ and military mumbo jumbo is thrown around as they leave. I can’t help but feel sorry for guys who would willingly join an organization that has the loyalty of a teenage boy after a positive pregnancy test.

“Real smart fellas you have there.”

Sharon looks at me, I guess with a hint of disappointment. “You know as well as I that if they were going for the kill, you’d be dead”.

“Along with a couple billion realtites and, knowing how much the universe seems to adore me, time itself. And what’s up with ‘your plan’ anyway? The military never came in guns blazing before. Don’t you geniuses know how important I am?”

“Are you threatening us now Leonardo?”

I relax my arms at my side as I walk into the pantry. The universe is on my team, as always, when I see one of the only undamaged things is what I’m looking for. I walk out in a sufficiently better mood with my packet of poptarts. “I’m just asking questions that pertain to the continuation of existence itself”.

Sharon scoffs and continues on: “Do you understand the magnitude of such threats, Leonardo?”

I wave her off with my free hand after opening my second breakfast. “ What threats? And please, it’s Leo; I’m not an award winning actor, just a potential destroyer of the timestream” I see the red emerge in her face and can’t help but chuckle. It's a mystery to me how she was able to secure one of the most secretive and ‘important’ jobs in the world with such a short fuse. Despite the fact that she is totally unlikable, the babe has grown on me over the years so I give her restless mind a break: “Y’know I’m not gonna go awol, especially when you pay for all my streaming service. And, uh, time wouldn’t be destroyed, just altered in some terrible heinous way. Such as your occupation being changed to stripper.”

She gives me one more uneasy look before moving on. “You have a place I can sit?”

“You mean a place you geniuses haven’t shot up yet? Don’t make me say it.”

“The frog chair?” She groans.

“I do believe it's pronounced froggy bean bag chair.”

She gives her eyes another roll as she sits down in the thing. “Can you sit with me?”

Sharon likes to remind me that in some ways I’m still a normal human. An example of

this being a woman with a face and a body like hers asking me to sit down with a voice like hers using a tone like that, regardless of if she is a facist pig or not, I’m probably gonna sit with her.

“What’s the prob Bob?” I sit criss-cross applesauce a yard or so across from her.

To my disappointment, not exactly my surprise, she grows serious as soon as I sit down.

“We can’t keep doing this dance Leonardo.”

“Doing what dance?” I let out the question with a bit of playful innocence.

“That.” She takes a moment to think before she begins her spill. “The U.W.O is not going to remain patient. The fate of existence potentially depends on what you have for lunch and you refuse to follow the guidelines that we give you. You probably can’t count how many times you’ve been told this, but you’re an anomaly. The only thing we have to go off of is my father’s theories: the regular flow of time is completely dependent on you. Every decision you make can drastically change our world’s past and half the time we can’t even detect those changes. Not to mention, if certain parts of that theory are true, the effects you can be having on our future. Leo, history is a book that you can rip up on an unknowing whim and the future is more uncertain that it has any right to be”.

“And yet we keep dancing…”

“Excuse me?”

I look at her for a second thinking that she for sures knows where I’m going, but it becomes clear to me she doesn’t. “You’re coming here to warn me. The U.W.O knows that you’re the only person I can stand getting yelled at by so they send you here every time I decide to live my life so you can flutter your eyes and tell me not to. How many times have you been here this month? I admit the whole shoot-em-up bit is new, but other than that this is the same old routine we’ve done for the past year. The only difference is I’ve been doing it my whole goddamn life and you’ve been doing it for a fraction of yours”.

The woman actually cracks a smile as she comprehends what I’m saying. I don’t know if it’s mocking or understanding me, but, seeing as I have nothing else to do, I let her spill. “You call this living Leo? I don’t know what you do to mess up the timestream, but, judging by the hours of footage that features you exclusively watching ‘He-man’ reruns, I sure as hell know it’s not living. What, you played a new video game? Flushed the toilet too fast? You’re not living; the life you’re leading is not worth risking history for”. The sarcasm and aggression starts to leave her eyes as she looks at my face. I begin to open my mouth in defense when she shushes me with a new, almost maternal, attitude. “But I didn’t come here to play our twisted game of house. I’ve been in contact with my father”.

The news strikes a rare chord of hope in me. Sharon’s father was the closest thing I had to a dad when I grew up in the compound. He was also the one who convinced the board of directors to let me out when I turned eighteen. “Let out” is an odd way of saying letting me live in a heavily guarded cell that just happens to be in an apartment building. He ended up deciding he didn’t want to be a mindless puppet and left the U.W.O along with all his research. Last I heard, which was a very long time ago, he was up to a more scholarly pursuit. “How is he?”

She smiles as she thinks of her father. “He’s getting philosophical in his old age. After he left, he started living like a hermit in some remote island in the Atlantic. A place they’d have trouble finding if they ever were to look; he’s getting into some rebellious stuff there Leo. He wants you to leave and come see him. He wants to end this dance.”

“By ‘rebellious’, do you mean some dooms-day shit?” the words come out as the hope comes out of me. “We don’t know what the reaction will be if I get in a boat or plane. We barely know what’s gonna happen if I leave this building again. Make fun of me all you want, but, you basically said it yourself, 80s tv is the only life I can safely lead”.

“He told me to trust him. If he’s wrong, the situation will be no worse than it was before”. I could easily read the doubt in her face. “Or at least to him.”

“So what? The world ending is the same as the world not ending? Existence is all a lie and it doesn’t matter anyway? Don’t tell me he’s become some quasi-intellectual pothead who posts on psychedelic-themed online forums.”

She rolls her eyes in response to my joke. “He’s disillusioned with our current world authority. He lived his whole thinking a plantery world order would be a good thing, so much so he helped to achieve it. Apparently after all those years and work, he thinks their practices are going to end us all. The way he sees it, the world may just end tomorrow; it’s any day now to him. In a certain manner of words, he’s desperate.”

“And you?”

She gives me another genuine look. “I trust my father as a leader and I care about you. He believes it's the right thing to do and you can’t keep up like this. Some of the things I’ve had to do this past year is enough for me to give up on doing the right thing through the government. Your problem is a problem that we might be able to fix on our own and trying is a lot better than you just rotting here waiting to die. Any ‘director’ who doesn’t like that can screw off.”

I let my eyes widen. “No one’s in on this? Why’d you bring the unit with you? Surely the bigwigs wire you up before you take their dogs for a walk?”

“Watch your words; dogs we are no more, unit Alias, at least, is on this. No wires or strings attached. The general consensus is the current plan of keeping the world safe from you is eventually going to collapse without change; I can’t say they have the personal stake that my father has with the way he views us as siblings”.

“Can’t really blame them for being worried or not particularly liking me, but they’re not here because of what happened because of my bagel?”

“What?”

“You came here to break me out, not to punish me for eating a bagel instead of toast?”

Sharon pulls a phone out of her pocket and scrolls through. “Oh…”

“What?”

“The ephilfel tower was built in Germany”.

#comedy #superhero #hero #comic books #action #adventure #ya #young adult #smart

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