#he'd treat anyone right and that hill I will die on

[cerise-on-top]

pookie 🥹🥹🥹

your writing 🥹🥹

is so 💗💖💝💕💞💓

I love it so much 😔

could I get gaz hcs with a reader who pretyy insecure around how they look around him?? Constantly fixing their appearance and overall just wanting to look their best for him 😢

FEEL FREE NOT TO ITS PERFECTLY IFNE ☺️☺️☺️☺️

Shrimp, thank you so much for your kind words, it's incredible to hear such praise from a writer as great as you 🥹 And of course you can, you can get just about anything if you ask for it!! I was so happy when I read your request today! Was really looking forward to writing it! I'm sorry if I went a bit overboard with those HCs, I just love Gaz so dearly I couldn't help myself, I needed to get this out of my system, every single thought needed to be put to paper for Gaz because he is among my favorites! Need a man like him to buy me ice cream!! Either way, thank you for your request, sorry for rambling, and I hope these are alright!

Gaz with an Insecure!S/O

It would start out with something small: Straightening your shirt and pulling it down when your stomach was showing, patting down your hair to make sure stray strands wouldn’t ruin your looks, maybe even putting a hand before your mouth whenever you were smiling. Sure, Gaz noticed that, but at the time he thought those were just small quirks of yours, nothing to worry about. Some small mannerisms that ultimately won’t mean too much. But what was once you fixing your appearance just a little bit, turned into something much bigger. Sucking in your stomach until it pained you to do so, keeping your back straight until it felt like you were about to topple over, bearing a faux smile even as your muscles begged you to stop. Although Gaz will have asked you a few times to relax by then, his gut feeling telling him that something might be up, it was, ultimately, no use.

If you’re on the chubbier side and you decided to lose weight for him in the only way you knew how, by starving yourself, if you put on layers upon layers of make-up, effectively suffocating your skin underneath, never taking it off, or maybe you think you’re not strong enough for him and thus you’d hit the gym, taking on weights that are far beyond what you should lift, then Gaz will try to intervene immediately. At first he’ll be gentle about it, telling you that you’re perfect as you are, give you a tender and loving kiss along with it, hoping it would help. You’re so beautiful, you’re so soft inside and out, letting him rest his weary head on your stomach, you’re so gorgeous when you leave the shower, body still damp without without the only thing that would make you, as you always thought, pretty, you’re so strong, easily capable of lifting him or the heavy grocery bags with no problem. But whatever you do, don’t overdo it, please. He’ll assure you how much he loves you, how drop dead gorgeous and perfect you are in every way, more often than he used to, but the dreadful feeling that it won’t be enough still lingers.

If you’re okay with it, he’s more than happy to hug you just a bit longer, give you just a few more kisses, praise your looks just a few times more per day. As soon as your behavior turns destructive, though, that’s when he’ll pull you aside and have a heartfelt talk with you. Although he hates making something that clearly bothers you this much about him, he will tell you that it breaks his heart how you’re destroying yourself just so you could appeal to him physically. He fell in love with you not only for your looks, he fell in love with you because of your personality as well. No one could ever make his heart flutter the way you could, no one’s presence could ever soothe and excite him at the same time as yours. Regardless of what you look like, you appeal to him. To him it doesn’t matter if you’re tiny or twice his size, thin or thick, muscular or frail. Marilyn Monroe could show up at his doorstep and he’d shove her aside just so he could spend just a few more seconds with you. Gaz is usually a gentleman when it comes to you, but please don’t be too upset with him when he’s being a bit more stern than usual. He tries his best to be kind and caring, but under extreme circumstances he might be a bit more forceful on accident. He doesn’t mean any harm by it, really, but he’s just that worried about you. You’re the last person he wants to lose. Although something he wants even less is for you to lose yourself. It’s flattering you’d be willing to change yourself for him, if it’s something that would make you a happier person, then he’ll do what he can to support you, but in this case he’ll try to get you to stop.

He knows it takes time to be content with yourself, especially if you think your value lies in the validation of someone else, but he’s patient. You need to vent about your insecurities? He’ll listen to you before making sure to tear down each and every single one of your bad thoughts. Your hair is tousled? This guy will start taking a bag with him, filled with all kinds of goodies to help you. And that includes a hairbrush. He can and will brush your hair, gently taking it in his hands, combing out any and all knots. Sucking in your stomach? He’ll get you to stop. If telling you so verbally works, he’ll settle for that. Otherwise he’ll try to get you all relaxed, making you forget about it. However, he might playfight with you as well if you’re up for it so you have something else to focus on. Point is: Whatever it is you need, he’ll do it. Communicate it with him, he’s willing to try out many things. You didn’t like it when he did this, but it felt great when he did that? There’s really no shame in telling him what you prefer, quite the opposite, he’s happy when you do it. That way he knows what works and what doesn’t. And if you’re ever at a point where you can simply walk up to him and ask him to tell you how pretty you look in that new sweater, how strong you are for lifting that crate, how you just wanna be told that you’re so gorgeous and or handsome today, he’ll do it without any judgment. Granted, you likely don’t need to ask him to do so, he’ll do anything he can to hype you up, but the option is there.

Gaz will, simply put, do whatever it takes to make you realize that you’re the most aesthetically pleasing person on the planet. It’s nice to know someone else thinks you’re pretty, but it’s more effective to know such a thing yourself. As long as he can help you reach that goal he’s happy with himself. He looks forward to those days where you walk up to him and tell him how a peacock is jealous whenever you walk by. He’ll build up your confidence and watch it prosper with your own care over time.

#cod #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #these are almost 1100 words #the words just fly onto the screen when I get to write about women or Gaz #I need Gaz to be real so I can build legos with him and tell him that he is among my favorites #he deserves it he's a lovely man who would treat me right #he'd treat anyone right and that hill I will die on

[flying-nightwing]

I gotta know.

In your professional opinion, do you think slade knows the hand on the lower stomach trick and the pillow trick?

Do you think anyone else your write for knows them? 👀

hehehheheHEHEHE 👀😏

I believe Slade knows, and knows it *very* well. HOWEVAH. Him using either entirely depends on whether or not he cares about the pleasure of the person he's having sex with. He's definitely not using the techniques on someone he's having a one time thing with, that he never wants to see again. Can't afford to have someone trail after him begging for more and/or have them recognize him out of all things because of it if he's on a mission or smth, y'know? bc yeah that will happen he's that good (man's got an ego to the moon). But if it's someone he wants around? Someone he wants to see again? He's never gonna tell them that, that's for sure but that orgasm WILL bring them back to him without fail. every. goddamn. time.

As for the other characters, Bruce knows them. And he's good at it. Selina taught him and it changed his mf life. He definitely uses them more leisurely than Slade, Brucie's a giver in bed and he just LOVES to see his partner's soul ascend from what he's doing to them. He's got a reputation to uphold and he'll literally die before he lets down a partner of his.

Dick knows too. I refuse to believe he wouldn't. But I feel like he would act like it's something incredibly normal. Like, he wouldn't even notice he's doing it, and he'd genuinely be surprised when his partner reveals it was the first time a man did that to them (eventually he'll realize that not everyone actually knows that or are bothered to do it, but he still wouldn't treat it as a special event kind of thing). He's just out there, casually raising the bar for everyone else. Dick game strong in every sense of the term babes.

Jason's case is a bit more complicated. If we take him right after his resurrection, them no he doesn't. Jason died a virgin, I will die on that hill, and whatever happened with Talia didn't actually happen I don't know what you mean. Bro's caught up in revenge and taking over a crime empire, he does NOT have the time for a game of dating and seduction. He's under so much stress, oh my god. And when he begins to chill, his partner is Roy, and Jaybird's not the one on top babes (again, HILL I WILL DIE ON). But Roy does teach him the trick so older Jay knows too. When he uses the tricks, it's already bc he trusts his partner enough to see him naked and vulnerable so it's pretty much always in a sweet way.

Since we're on the topic of Roy, well, he obviously knows. Roy "I seduced a dangerous international assassin to the point where she had my kid" Harper absolutely knows and he's SMUG about it. As the Youth™ says, bro's got rizz. He knows your exes weren't as good as him. By the time he's done with you, you won't even remember you had exes.

Tim read about it one time when he fell down a rabbit hole of research after opening the internet to (initially) look up romantic gestures idea. He tries to use it but it turns awkward the first few time, bc he treats it like any other skill and it just breaks the mood. Until he can find someone he trusts enough to practice with, he'll just refrain from doing it.

Steph knows. And she will openly criticize the men in her life that doesn't. Being ego checked by Steph is probably the most mortifying thing ever. "Oh? You don't know about those? Yikes... That's embarrassing. Yeah. Yeah no you should take down that tweet about being a sex god, yeah, you're just embarrassing yourself more now. Please stop" She's braver than any US marines.

(that's pretty much the main ones but if i forgot any lmk)

#slade wilson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #roy harper x reader #stephanie brown x reader #slade wilson #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #roy harper #steph brown #dc #batman #robin #tim drake x reader #tim drake #dc fic

[slasherhaven]

Hi! I was wondering if i could put in a request where someone tells the slashers (maybe michael, thomas, and jesse) that their s/o doesn’t actually love them they just are scared of leaving them. Thank you!!! ❤️

Includes: Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Jesse Cromeans, Otis Driftwood.

Somebody tells them that their S/O doesn't love them, they are just afraid of them:

Thomas Hewitt

Hoyt had never liked you. Didn't like how well you became one of the family after your initial fear and panic, how Luda May treated you like one of her own, how you kept making heart eyes at Thomas. How Thomas turned to must whenever you were around.

He had wanted to get rid of you since the beginning but nobody ever listened. They just liked you too damn much.

So, Hoyt was trying a different strategy.

"You look fucking pathetic, believing all those dopey looks they give you. Do you think they actually love you? We all know they're only pretending to avoid ending up in the stew, they know they won't get anywhere if they run. They're stupid but not that fucking stupid."

Of course, despite how much Thomas adores and trusts you, he lets those words get under his skin.

If he was being honest, Thomas had those thoughts at the beginning of your relationship, but you had persistently reassured him of your love for him and he believed you.

Now that doubt had returned.

Fortunately, you had been right around the corner and heard enough of what Hoyt said to know what was going on in Thomas' head.

You walked into the room and straight up to Thomas, making sure to be extra affectionate, just to prove a point. "Hey, Tommy. I was looking for you" you smiled up at him, lacing your arm around his.

Just that sweet way you looked at him helped ease his worries, until Hoyt let out an amused scoff, bringing his doubts racing back.

"What's funny?" you asked, acting oblivious to what was going on but the tension in the room gave away what you had over heard.

"Think it's funny that you got Tommy wrapped around your finger just by batting your eyelashes and pretending to give a shit" Hoyt glared at you.

It was your turn to let out an amused scoff.

"I care about Tommy, a lot actually. I love him. Maybe you find that hard to believe because when was the last time somebody loved you? But I love Tommy" you had always been more cautious about Hoyt than anyone else, knowing that he already despised you and would be the most likely to just kill you, but this was the hill you were more than willing to die on.

Hoyt pretty much growled at you for daring to speak back, to dare insult him in his own home, but he couldn't touch you because Thomas was right there. A large hand clasping yours as he stepped forward to place himself in front of you.

God, he believed you. He believed you completely. You were willing to risk Hoyt's anger just to reassert your care and love for him. You loved Thomas but he wasn't sure it was possible for you to love him as much as he loved you. He adored you.

Michael Myers

It was a situation you thought was impossible. Michael had been caught, you didn't think they could manage it, but they had. Thankfully, you knew that man well enough to know he'd be coming back to you soon. He wouldn't let them hold him for long.

While you paced the rooms of your home, gnawing your nails down in worry, Dr Loomis was making a visit to Michael.

"If it were up to me, L/n would be arrested for harbouring a criminal but no jury would believe they let you stay in their home willingly" the doctor informed the silent man, the threat of his words clear enough. He could try to go after you.

"I don't even believe it. You're not a man, Michael, they can't actually love you, just like you can't love them. They're afraid, housing you to avoid being killed by you."

What surprised Loomis was that is actually got a reaction from Michael, a very small one but one he noticed.

He glared at the doctor and it sent a shiver down his spine. Despite the tingle of fear, the doctor was excited to explore that progression.

He got no more reactions out of Michael after that day.

And despite the heightened security, Michael took his first chance at escape and succeeded.

Loomis knew exactly where he was going and, thanks to his car, managed to beat him to his destination.

He watched your house, waiting for the stoic man.

Soon enough, Michael was creeping into your home, going unseen.

It wasn't until a light turned on that Loomis perked up, moving closer to the window.

And what he saw surprised him more than anything.

You weren't cowering, terrified of Michael's return. You weren't even timid, lowering your gaze to appease him. You were fussing over him.

He couldn't hear what you were saying but you looked like you were rambling about something as you assessed the much taller man for damage.

Michael stared at you as you fussed, before letting you sit him down on the couch so you could start cleaning the dirt away from his face and hands.

You had tears in your eyes, but not ones of fear, of joy for seeing the man was alright. You had a smile on your face, a sincere one, a loving one.

Loomis couldn't believe his eyes, he had been wrong, so completely wrong. You weren't afraid...you really were in love with Michael.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Preston had been stepping further and further out of line lately, it was a miracle he wasn't dead already. And today, apparently he had decided to push the limits even further.

The Organisation had picked out the next target, giving them their next destination. Jesse had just updated Preston to make preparations, having called him into his office, before telling him to send word to you.

Once Jesse was finished up with the finer details, he would contact you himself but he wanted you to start getting ready for the trip. You came with him these days.

However, Preston lingered in the doorway, looking unconvinced.

"With all due respect, sir, do you really think we can trust them?" the questioned caused Jesse to stop flittering over the preparation, looking up at his employee with a quizzical glare, "I just mean, are we sure they...understand what we do?"

"I can assure you, they know everything" it was moments like this when Jesse grew frustrated with his lack of voice, only because that text-to-voice is god awful at conveying tone. Still, his hard glare was effective.

"And is that for the best? What we do, it makes us difficult to love" he wasn't sure exactly what Preston's intentions were but he was pushing his luck, he was already looking to replace him. He must have no sense of self preservation.

"What are you implying?"

"I just hope they are as loyal as you say they are" of course, Preston was illuding that you would betray him. That your love for him can't be real, that you were simply afraid of him and waiting for your chance to escape. However, Jesse knew you too well, he knew that wasn't the case.

"I know who I can trust and who I can't. They know more than you, they are higher in the food chain. Remember that" the threat, even in the robotic voice, was obvious and it made Preston stand to attention.

The implication was clear. He was disposable, you weren't.

Preston knew that Jesse wasn't a stupid man, arrogant perhaps, but not stupid. He wouldn't do anything to put himself or the Organisation at risk, you must be trustworthy even if Preston couldn't understand how you could love a man like him. Somebody so sadistic and violent, so depraved, even worse than himself.

Maybe Jesse had just met his perfect match. Of course he did, he was Chromeskull, he got everything.

As soon as Preston left his boss' office and close the door, Jesse messaged you. 'We're taking a trip, Preston is going to give you the details. Make sure to give him a hard time for me.'

And he knew you would.

Otis Driftwood

The group of you had ended up at Charlies, Spaulding had wanted to visit him and dragged the two of you and Baby along. It wasn't your favourite place to hang out but, hey, you were growing used to the life of Firefly and you supposed there had been some fun moments spent there.

You had excused yourself to use the bathroom, leaving Charlie and Otis alone together in the sitting area.

"They're a good lil' actor, ain't they?" Charlie commented, not thinking much of it as he sipped from his drink.

"What the fuck ya talking about?" Otis' face scrunched up in confusion but didn't think it was going to that big of a deal, happily nursing his drink.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think they actually loved ya" alright, that caused Otis to pause.

"What's that meant to mean?" he asked, glaring at the man.

"C'mon, Otis, y'joking right? I mean, I'm happy y'got yourself a good one but it's only because they know running off will get 'em killed" Charlie laughed to himself.

Now, Otis was under no delusions about who he was and the things he did. He called himself the devil and meant it, he was pure evil, but Charlie was wrong about this. Nobody was a good enough actor to pull off pretending to love him.

"Y'don't know what you're fucking talking about."

"Sure, sure, they just saw all that fucked up shit and fell head over heels for you. Absolutely nothing to do with avoiding the same fate."

When you returned to the room, you were greeted by the sight of Otis holding a knife to Charlie's throat as he snarled something in his face.

"What happened?" you questioned, looking between the two men. You weren't too surprised, pretty much everyone you associated with these days was volatile and unpredictable. Especially Otis.

"Fucker doesn't know when to shut his mouth" was all Otis told you but really it was all you needed to know.

You approached the pair without fair, pulling Otis away from the other man and getting in front of him. Calming him down until he tucked his knife away again with a huff.

"You scared I'm gonna string you up and cut ya open?" Otis questioned you, his voice low, threatening if you didn't know any better.

"What? No, of course not" you frowned, surprised by his question but not hesitating in your answer.

"That's what he thinks" he told you, pointing accusingly at Charlie, who only chuckled to himself.

"Well, he clearly doesn't know shit" you scoffed, suddenly feeling as defensive over your relationship as Otis was.

"I was just pointing out-" Charlie began but couldn't finish his sentence, thanks to you.

As soon as the man started speaking, you spun around to face him. "Shut the fuck up before I let him slit your throat" you warned him, a look he was all too familiar with flashing behind your eyes.

"Hell, maybe I was wrong" Charlie hummed, a tone of approval.

"Damn right, you were" Otis spat before dropping back down on the couch he was previously sitting on, shamelessly dragging you down onto his lap.

You took your seat without complain, lacing your arms around his neck, holding yourself close to him. The two of you further getting the point across to Charlie.

You knew that this would be one of those arguments that were quickly forgotten, a few drinks would be shared and it will be like it never happened. Still, Charlie wouldn't be questioning your relationship again.

#thomas hewitt x reader #michael myers x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull x reader #otis driftwood x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher #slashers #my writing

[scripted-downfall]

Do you have a favorite ghost from Thir13en Ghosts? Which one do you consider to be the most terrifying and/or tragic?

ANON. You're amazing. I- alkdsjflksfdj I love this question. Thank you!!! (I confess that I'm possibly cheating in my initial answer to your questions, but I'll give a follow-up afterwards that more directly answers each one.)

Dennis, my beloved. Hands-down, both my favorite and most tragic. (He's not one of the 12/13, which is why it technically might be cheating, but he does show up as a ghost at one point in the movie, so I think it still counts.) He spent his entire life exiled from people, both self-imposed --- since actual interaction with anyone or anything triggered his visions --- and unwilling (treated as a freak by pretty much everyone). He gets a job working for Cyrus and wants acceptance enough that he tells himself the man's a friend, but Kriticos is using him the entire time, as well as depriving him of medication in pursuit of his ghosts. He has the makings of a friendship with Arthur who knows about his visions and doesn't treat him like a freak, right up until he finds out about Jean being in the house and does a complete 180. And then he dies in an act of self-sacrifice, protecting someone he only just met, by two of the most up-close-and-personal ghosts in the house (e.g. likely the most painful for him, both physically and psychically). It's a horrible storyline, and he deserved better.

BUT. Since I suspect you meant of the 13... This is much harder to me because they're all so tragic. I rewatch the ghost files every time I put on the film, and I'm impressed every time by how well-developed is the tragedy alkdsfj

That being said. Favorite: The Jackal. His character design is awesome, and he was definitely the most terrifying, to me, when I first watched the film, given his ghost's unpredictability and volatility. (I still remember the sense of oh, damn, shit just got real when Dennis sees that his cube is open and stresses how bad it is.) Also, if I recall correctly --- I just watched the film again, but I could still be wrong --- he is the only ghost that is successful in attacking every time he shows up. He also has really awesome attack scenes, flickering in and out of visibility; I also still remember how damn creepy it was to see the wild slashing from an unseen attacker, or Kathy hovering in the air in that tug-of-war-esque scene. His guitar solo soundtrack was awesome, and it definitely caught my attention; additionally, the screams that serve as his whisper/motif throughout the film were haunting (hah, literally). His backstory has a noble tragedy to it; he recognized that he needed help and went to try to get treatment, and --- once he'd given up on the success of that, driven insane by the atrocious conditions there --- stayed behind when the fire broke out. It's not fair, but none of their stories were, and his just... caught my attention and never left. (To be clear, I'm not trying to say he deserved the treatment there, or staying behind to die. I'm just saying that there's a nobility to the fact that he made that choice himself because he didn't want to hurt people.) And, finally, I have a fondness for the House on Haunted Hill clip that worked its way into his ghost file clips, so that's a bit of a bonus.

Most tragic: The Hammer. I'm not trying to downplay any of the ghosts' backstories because, again, they're all very tragic --- I just talked about that for the Jackal, and the Angry Princess bears mentioning too --- but I feel like his take the cake. The unjust accusation was bad enough, but what they did to his family? And then the absolutely atrocious frontier justice? It's absolutely devastating, and his was always one of the stories that I felt was most heartbreaking. (But, again, they all had elements of that. Not one of them escaped the tragedy of it all, and that's kinda the point.)

I hope that answers the question! I absolutely love this film --- and most horror movies --- so I'm loving these horror-related asks; thank you to the person or people who keep(s) sending them in!! Thank you, and all the best until next time!

#answered asks #scripted downfall asks answered

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Paul's Lullaby | part one

| next>

"Sam?" Paul was, he was in pain. He respect Sam and Emily's privacy, but he needed to talk to Sam now.

Paul wasn't angry, he was in pain. He felt like the world had opened up and swallowed him whole. He ruined his own life, and he didn't know where else to turn.

"Paul?" Sam asked, opening the door. Emily was behind him, face covered in concern.

"I imprinted tonight," Paul said, "but she hates me. She really, really hates me."

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't fix," Sam said, ushering Emily to come closer.

"Sam, I'm not exaggerating, she told me that she hates me. In fact, she should hate me." Paul looked at his feet, but only to try and hide the distress on his face. "If anyone treated her that way I used to, I'd rip them apart."

"Paul," Emily said, reaching out. Paul flinched back.

"I don't deserve your sympathy. I just, I don't know what to do."

"Be patient. Maybe you just have to prove you're a different man now," Emily offered a sad smile, but it was the exact thing Paul didn't want. He shouldn't pitied, he didn't deserve it. He could feel his heart bruise and falter. He broke his own heart and has no clue on how to fix it.

Emily had to go back to sleep, but Sam sat up with Paul for a while longer.

When Paul finally left, it was almost two in the morning. He took off running through the woods, shifting when he knew he was hidden by the tree line. He tried to outrun the heartbreak, but obviously it didn't work.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at your computer. You wanted to work on your writing, but you were so angry at the audacity that Paul had.

You had done everything you could to avoid him the last couple years - and you managed to make it to the first day of summer after graduation. You'd run into him on the beach.

He was just such a jerk, acting like his words had no effect on anyone. Like he could just laugh behind your back and it wouldn't hurt.

But he used to tell people nasty rumours about you. Until nobody really wanted you around them. And then he had to take it that much farther, when you were both fifteen, he took you on a date, acted like he'd changed and grown. And right before he kissed you he said, "I know you fall for it."

That date alone triggered years of trust issues. You'd felt alone ever since.

Back to the beach, he was blocking the trail you needed to head down to get to work on time. You'd hoped that putting your head down and just trying to slide passed would work, but he recognized you. He tried talking to you, but you ignored him.

After taking a couple steps down the path he said, "don't be like that."

This made you look up, astounded that he would even say something like that. Until you finally looked into his eyes, and you recognized how beautiful he was. He also looked stunned, like he'd run into a glass door. He reached out to you, but recoiled, dodging his touch like he was on fire. Somehow, you'd felt even lonelier than ever.

One look at his face and you felt like you were missing something. You tried to keep your cool but you just couldn't. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and his friend Jared Cameron coughed, before walking to the water just to give you two some space.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and hesitant. Making you panic, thinking he was toying with you again.

"Stay away from me," you warned, taking a defensive step back.

That hit Paul harder in the heart than you would ever know. His soulmate, his imprint, recoiling away from him defensively. He found the person he was supposed to protect, to be needed by, and you couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Just wait a second," he begged, not moving towards you again. He didn't want to scare you.

"I hate you," you whispered, and then louder said it again. And louder again. Until you had screamed it, and the tears had taken over your cheeks. Every time you said it was an arrow to Paul's heart. He nodded, and let you turn around to run off without another word.

You didn't notice him run into the woods, followed by his friend.

You called work saying you had a personal emergency, and then went back home for the night.

Back in the present, you were tearing up at the memory of it. You were sick, you think. Addicted to red flag behaviour because there was no way you were thinking of Paul's hurt face, and feeling bad for causing it. He should feel bad for all the pain he caused.

You looked at the clock, it was almost three in the morning, but you were too caught up in all your feelings to send yourself to bed. You walked to the window, and noticed some kind of animal by the tree line. You lived in the middle of the woods, in an old cabin your grandma used to live in. You moved in when she got sick but never moved out. You liked it. It was cozy. It was private.

Finally relenting, you crawl into bed and did your best to sleep.

The next day, you were walking along the same path on the beach. You offered to cover the shift of the girl who had covered yours at such last minute.

Paul was in the same spot, but alone this time. You tried to walk passed him without acknowledging him, but something stopped you. You didn't want to see him sad again, it hurt you. And it made no sense why, you'd spent two years hating him.

You were only a few steps passed him, so you turned around, gripping the end of your sweater sleeves in each hand.

Paul had his head down, but looked up when he heard you sigh. You were standing in front of him, looking so terrified to speak to him. Paul could've started crying.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you like that yesterday," you said. "I should've just walked away so... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, a flash of excitement crossed his eyes, and you mistook it for something sinister. You tried to remain calm, but you were feeling lightheaded. You just couldn't trust his motives. "I deserved it."

Now that, threw you for a bit of a loop.

Fool me once, you thought.

"I still think we should just keep our distance," you said. "You kind of broke my heart."

"I'm really sorry about that, I was trying to impress the seniors. I was a tool. An idiot."

"Finally we agree on something," you said. He looked at you, and you both let out a small smile. He pushed some sand with his foot. His bashfulness made you want to believe him. "I work just up the hill. You can walk me if you want."

"Can I walk you home when you're done?" he asked, quickly falling in perfect tandem with you.

"No," you said. "But you can walk with me right now."

"I'll take it," he said.

"Why do you want to talk to me anyway? I thought you hated me," you said.

"I could never hate you," he said. "I do hate how I treated you though. Not my finest hour."

"I think your finest hour remains to be seen."

Paul stayed quiet after that. And you were oddly comfortable in the silence. You're not even sure why you invited him to come along, but some sick part of you wanted him to. You wanted to reach out and touch him. His arms just looked so welcoming, and the way he stretched his hand open and shut made you think he wanted the same thing. But you couldn't let him in, not after one day.

"Have a good shift," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

You smiled at him ,and thanked him for walking you. When you smiled, he smiled. And you caught onto that.

Paul had been standing in the same spot every day to walk you to work. Out of curiosity, on one of your days off, you snuck close to the spot to see if he was there. And he was, leaning against the same railing, in the same spot that he waited for you everyday.

You got comfortable in a cozy little spot in the trees. You wanted to see how long he waited for you. You dozed off before you could get your question answered.

You woke up hours later, when the sun was already setting. You hated walking through the trees in the dark. You started walking on your own, but you had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. So you swallowed your pride and called someone you knew would answer.

Paul was sitting at Sam and Emily's table, enjoying the dinner she made while waiting for his turn to go on patrol. It was Jared and Quil out there now. Paul could hear Seth snoring on the couch, making him laugh. Things that used to annoy him, didn't really seem to annoy him anymore. Not since you started letting him walk you to work. He even got Sam to let him change his patrol times to make sure he could be there every day.

His phone rang, and with a mouthful of food checked the number. He almost chocked on his food when he saw your number. He answered, hitting his chest to dislodge the food.

"Y/N, hi," he said, big grin on his face as he stood up and walked outside. Behind his back, Emily and Sam shared a knowing look, and he leaned in to kiss his wife.

Paul noticed Jared sitting nearby with Kim, and didn't think too much of it with you on the line.

"This may sound stupid," you said, "but can you walk me home? I don't like to go in the dark."

"You never let me walk you home," he said.

"If this is a bad time, it's okay," you said, disappointment clear in your voice.

"No, no... where are you? I'll be right there." He stepped back inside the house to grab his shoes, but the sound of you gasping stalled his movements.

"I'm by our meeting spot," you said. His grin returned when you called it that. "It's so dumb, I wanted to see if you went there when I didn't work and fell asleep."

"You were spying on me?" he asked. You were silent on the other end and he laughed. "I'll be right there."

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Huh?"

He heard you scream, as did Sam and Emily who's cheeky glances turned to concern quickly. "Y/N?" he asked, panicked. He was already running outside, Sam on his heals.

"Jared!" Sam shouted, "Why aren't you on patrol?"

"Seth said he'd do it!" Jared yelled back. Paul dropped his phone, and shifted, running top speeds to where you said you were.

Never in his whole life had he been this scared. He could hear Jared apologizing for the mixup in his thoughts, but Paul didn't really care what he had to say. If you were hurt, Paul would die. Paul would simply die.

He needed you to be there safe.

I knew something was wrong, Embry thought. Paul didn't even see him show up. Sorry I didn't act on it.

Shut the shit up and run, dammit!

When he got to the meeting point, you were gone, but your bag was abandoned nearby. Paul sniffed it, getting your current scent memorized. He took off when he found the trail. He also smelled a retched, filthy bloodsucker. It wasn't one of the Cullens. No, this was different. And it started at the water, that's how it got passed their lines. Not that they had enough people around.

Paul howled, the pain in it was evident for anyone around. It was him saying get here, or suffer the consequences.

I don't smell their blood, Jared thought.

You don't get to talk about them. This anger didn't derive from a bad temper, it was fear. It was just fear talking.

Paul kept running, catching a fork in the scent trails. One way was Quil, Leah and the bloodsucker. And the other was you, all alone. Alone but alive. If he couldn't hear Leah or Quil think, that was a good sign. Meant that they'd changed back, and Leah would never do that unless she killed them.

Go to her, we'll find Leah. Sam nodded at Paul.

You were crying as you ran, clumsy feet stumbling over tree roots and your own blurred vision totally betrayed you. Someone had come out of the water, eyes red like rubies. And they were so pretty that you just had to look at her. Until the showed her teeth, forcing you to flee in fear. She was faster than you, but you think she was playing with you.

And then if that wasn't scary enough, when she was jumping down from a tree to kill you, a wolf jumped from the shadows and grabbed the woman. And it was her turn to flee. Another wolf jumped out, and you were sure you were a goner.

But it just chased after the other two. Leaving you alone and confused.

You stumbled back to your feet, running as fast as you could towards your cabin. You would be safe in there. Maybe. It was the best you could do right now.

You cried harder when you thought you heard more rustling in the trees. You were at your door, struggling to get your keys out and unlock the door. When you did, you slammed it shut and locked it behind you. You dove over the sofa and kept your eyes on the door, as if that's all it took to keep you safe.

Your phone was lost somewhere in the woods, but you could still hear them. Out there. Maybe it wasn't real.

There was a feverish knocking on your door, and you couldn't peel yourself away from the couch.

"Y/N! Are you in there," Paul shouted. Oh my God, thank everything, it's Paul.

"Paul, I'm coming," you struggled, fighting through your tears to answer. It killed him, but he was so happy you were okay.

You opened the door, and cried even harder when you saw his face. You couldn't hate him now, now when he came running for you. He ignored his usual boundaries and pulled you in for a hug. He was so warm wrapped around you. Your arms were still tucked into your chest. And his totally encompassed you.

"Just breath, honey," he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You tried to take his advice, but you couldn't focus.

"You came for me."

"I always will, you can always call me. I will always come running," he said. And you believed him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" you asked, pushing yourself away from him enough to look up at his face. His features were uncharacteristically soft as they looked down at you.

"Of course," he said. He kissed your forehead, and you felt the instinct of pushing him away - but you ignored it this time.

"On the couch," you said.

"Sure, honey." He brushed his hands up and down your biceps, helping you take a few deep breaths. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"I don't understand what happened," you said, pushing yourself away from him. "She came out of the water, and then she..."

"It's okay," he cooed, "you don't have to say anything."

"And this doesn't change anything," you said. "I trust you with some things but not other things."

"Some things?" he asked, more amused than anything.

"I trust you with my life, not my heart."

"We'll work on it," he said, pulling you in close for another hug.

"Yeah," you agreed. "We'll work on it."

[requested] [part 2?]

I kind of love this?

#imagine #imagines #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote imagines #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #part 2

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

#jack kline x oc #jack kline #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline x reader #spn #spn fanfiction #superntural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #alexander calvert #alex calvert #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #jack is baby #the writing gets better #texting #jack kline humor #jack kline fluff #fluff #a little angst #dean being dean #my name is cas and i write stuff #fanfic #this is just the beginning #its gonna get good #i swear #thanks for reading #have a nice day