#like the case instinct pt 2 is in is twice the size of the others

[qazastra]

I feel so smart rn

no more carefully unshelving and opening up albums and then painstakingly removing the cds from their precarious packaging to listen 🥳

#had a bunch of cases left over from YEARS ago when I used to make mix cds for my friends #I wanna get more it would be so fun to decorate them. maybe just the smaller ones though bc the jewel cases take up so much space idk #like the case instinct pt 2 is in is twice the size of the others #m

[gaspbrat]

Senior Hues

part twoes.

ch. 1 pt. 2

Reddie!

Promposal!

Sonia meets Bev!

Sh*t hits the fan!

Stan!

Absolute Fluff with a chef’s kiss of jealous angst.

the shortest of this series, maybe, wc: 2600+

♡

Stanley was amazing at most things:

Observing, Listening, Responding with a gentle harshness.

He was not the best at some other things:

Not telling Eddie to shut the fuck up right now.

“Eddie, listen to me,” he grasped his friend’s shoulders tightly, speaking through gritted teeth, “Richie is an asshat and I can’t understand why the fuck he is so damn important to you. He just dicks around all the time. Dicks with you all the time.”

Eddie begins to retreat from his soap box of anxious paranoia. Stan loosens his grip and his eyes soften.

“But he’s not dicking with you, this time,”

Beautiful strawberry blonde curls danced in the winter evening wind, caressed by the setting sun. Stan would consider this poetic if it didn’t involve the trashmouth, mozying over to the awaiting Melissa. She was tossing her hair and smiling obscenely over her shoulder.

Stan was ever grateful he could always find the best vantage point to watch the birds go at it. He knew meters away Eddie was already attempting to piece together what was unfolding right before his privileged eyes.

“Melissa,” Richie called with a rigid awkwardness, “Your glasses. You left them.”

“Oh! Silly me!” she hesitated over his hand taking her glasses back.

He did not savor the touch.

“Hey, um,” she begins twisting her lip between her teeth as he made a move to escape.

Richie wants to roll his eyes but really doesn’t want to piss her off in uniform on the main street.

“Prom’s coming up and I can’t go unless I go with a senior. Some stupid fuckin’ bet I have with Avery,”

she nods her head over to one of the vultures watching this scene.

“You know what,” Richie feels particularly evil today. He honestly belives half-truth she was giving him. She might actually have a brain in there.

“Yea, I’ll go with you.”

Melissa nearly cries out loud.

“Shit, um, okay! Yea, just,”

He brings up the sharpie in his right hand and asks for her palm. She hands it over. He scrawls some numbers between the three lines.

“Call me.” he turns with a wink back to the arcade, sauntering back to work.

Leaving Melissa to squeal with her posse moments later.

Stan scoffs before kicking his bike off and finding his friend.

“He is absolutely fucking with your whole heart right now, dude.”

Eddie’s jaw hangs open while his heart droops further.

“Stan, what the fuck, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” He croaked out, suddnely defensive of his other friend.

“I saw him write his number on her hand after you bolted in gay panic.”

He wasn’t sure whether to dignify Stan’s offhanded insult with a response or be discouraged by the thought of Richie going with someone else.

Stan watched a piece of Eddie’s heart fall to the floor and he wondered if he really made the right choice.

“Look,” he started backpedaling,“He could have just given her a fake number-”

“Why on the fucking earth would he go and do all that extra shit?”

“I don’t fucking know? You know him as good if not better than me!”

“Clearly I don’t.” Eddie’s tone hushed. He turned away from Stan, plunging himself into thought.

“Hey, Eddie, come on. Don’t go there.”

“Where else can I go, you DROVE me here?”

“We biked.”

“Not the point! Really?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Silence settled over Stan’s room as they hoth contemplated the true facts.

Stan’s eyes don’t lie. Eddie knows to trust him more than he trusts the others. He isn’t super sure about all this, though.

He assumes only time will really tell.

The next few months were spent in an unfortunate game of tug-o-war between Eds and Rich. They would only be around the losers if for sure the other would not be present. In the absolute worst case scenario they both end up sitting at the same table for a brief second before realizing they were at odds.

Richie was afraid to say anything to Eddie and Eddie was frustrated by his presence. They both feared the uncertainty the other brought with them.

Valentine’s day came and went.

Both Richie and Eddie called in sick that day. If their friends had no idea of the circumstances they would call them lovesick. One of them was working and the other was distracting himself. They both shared in longing, that much was obvious.

Saint Patrick’s Day yielded Eddie in no green claiming he forgot the holiday. Everyone had a field day. Richie snuck a pinch in while they passed in the hallway. It would have worked if he had been a few inches shorter.

Eddie spotted him instantly and bolted after him only to lose him at the main hallway.

After what felt like an eternity to everyone involved, April came. It brought the feeling of spring and budding young misguided romance.

Also, promposals.

Ben asked Beverly right before April fool’s just to make sure she couldn’t prank him instead.

Stan and Mike just started declining every offer, fake or otherwise, making sure to give each other a glance after each attempt.

Bill fixed his sights on one of Melissa’s friends, Avery Ann, whom enjoyed all of the short stories he told in his advanced literature class.

Richie gagging upon hearing Bill recant the tale of his proposal and nearly fainted at the thought of double dating with BILL AND all that noise.

Eddie had been avoiding their lunch table for a few weeks straight at this point and his sudden presence that Wednesday afternoon caught everyone (Richie) off guard.

“Woah! Hey short stack! Where’d you come from?”

“Bio, what’s it to you?” he set his bag down and squeezed in opposite his current rival.

“Nothing, I was just wondering.” Richie returned to his passive silence as per late usual.

Eddie saved the expression he was given for future reference.

“What’s new, Eddie? I feel like I haven’t see you in a week now!” Mike questioned with his warm and welcome tone to break a part of the tension.

“Nothing too crazy. Just some weird shit.”

They all stopped grazing to stare at him with expectance.

“What weird shit?” Beverly asked.

“Fuckin’ Melissa called my house twice.”

Richie froze. Everyone else held their breath.

Stan leaned back in his seat knowing all too well the screaming match to follow. He glanced at Rich to assess his mood and noticed the color had vanished from his cheeks.

“Asking for YOU both times!” he was standing, accusing the pile of messy black hair across from him, pupils darting away from eye contact.

“My mom nearly crucified me, asshole! What the fuck?!”

Richie kept his gaze on the juice box at the center of the table. He wondered whose it was. Maybe he could have a sip.

“HELLO?! Earth to shithead!” Eddie was getting loud. He knew it. He recognized his level of rage but at this moment nothing mattered but making a fool of him in front of the others. Proof he wasn’t jumping to conclusions.

He was, though, he learned from Stan.

“Why the fuck did you have your girlfriend call my home phone? Twice?!” he was shrill now.

Richie could not believe his ears.

“Wait what?”

“Did you guys fuckin’ prank call me after you got done making out or what!?”

Richie could feel this only getting worse so he got up from the bench.

“Hey, what wher-”

Eddie was cut off by a rough ‘let’s go’, led out of the cafeteria by Richie’s grasp.

This needed to be settled somewhere immediately.

Eddie expected to be escorted to Gretchen but his heart ached when Richie’s didn’t slow at the parking lot.

They kept walking in uncomfortable silence for a good three blocks before Eddie stopped, flabbergasted.

“Wait, what the fuck, where in the shit are we going?”

“Just follow me.”

He begrudgingly pursued with a groan.

They ended their journey at the local mechanic.

“You need a tune up, Eds?”

The smaller boy responded with a fury in his gaze, “No.”

“Gretchen did,. . does.”

He released the breath he held captive in his chest.

Eddie was silent behind him for a moment before squeaking out, “I thought you were getting rid of her.” he had not called her anything besides 'it’ until now.

“I was yea,” he rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm, “I wanted to surprise you for pr-” he cut himself off.

“Prom?”

Richie hissed. It was all in the open now, sort of.

“Yea, Eddie, I didn’t want to take you without her.” Richie slapped his forehead with the realization he could not lie to his closest friend.

“What do you mean? I thought you asked Melissa.” he sheepishly trailed off and toed the crack in the sidewalk. After finally looking back up to meet his taller friend’s gaze he noticed Richie had disappeared.

“In here, Eds.” he heard a voice call him from around a corner, leading into the shop.

Eddie followed the voice to find Richie, kneeling, holding a small bouquet of tickets taped to look like daisies.

“Would you,”

Eddie’s blood was fickle sometimes. Running to all these body parts for no reason. This was one of those times. His face burned with the amount of red he was probably sporting.

“Edward Gaspbrat,” Rich croaked out from his awkward seat on Gretchie’s hood, a smirk peeking through his words.

Eddie’s eyes saw his brain for a good three seconds giving his boy friend the eye roll of the century. It gave him enough reprieve to recirculate his blood flow from his cheeks back to where it belonged.

“..Bemydatetoprom?” Richie sputtered out in almost a whisper.

They both paused, watching each other for a minute. Crickets chimed in almost on cue.

Eddie did the sizing up.

“Are- Are you asking me to prom? Rich, don’t fuck with me,” the younger boy stuck his finger out at the other, instinctively scolding him even now. In this moment.

Richie could not believe his eyes.

“Maybe… yes. I am.”

He shrugged but his choice was concrete. The flustered little man before him made sure. “so, please?”

Eddie took a good four seconds to respond. Richie took this time to assess how good they would look in matching suits and ties in front if all those fucking twats. Melissa included. Melissa especially.

“Of course?“

The effect of gravity seemed to have left Eddie and he started to freak before he realized it was Richie picking him up into a gangly bear hug.

“OkayOkay! Put me down!” he started to squirm, “You’ll crush my snickers!”

Richie finally listened when he heard the word snickers.

“You have snickers? Hidden in those tiny things?”

He pointed to Eddie’s pair of very short jogging shorts he would always wear but never jog in. After four years you’d think someone would change style but no.

Richie then took a second to remind himself he was currently wearing an open tommy bahama shirt before criticizing Eddie further.

“I don’t dummy.”  he quickly readjusted his fanny pack to his right hip. “I keep them in here.”

He pulled two snickers bars from it.

“Was this,” Richie takes a snicker and turns it over just to be extra sure that : yep it’s a snickers, “a reward or some bullshit? Did you know I was gonna ask you?”

Eddie started to look upset and opened his mouth for a reply.

“No I-”

“You little shit, you wanted me to look like an asshole in front of the losers and ask you and this was, what? Your gift in return? What the fuck?”

“Dickie! Shut. The Fuck. Up!” he screeched. “They were for you. For us? Like a bribe or some shit when I-” Eddie realized his train of thought was derailing so he cut himself off. His gut turned, however, when he saw the twinkle in those deep brown, enlarged eyes.

“When you what?”

Shit.

“Uh.. Nothing. Just, saw you. And I did, so… Just eat it.”

“No, no, I want to know what you saved these for. These are the special ones your mom hides in her table next to that dil-”

“Beep, fucking, BE E P!” Richie fell shut his mouth tight.

“I-I wanted to go to that hill we went to in eighth grade after I was gone for two weeks, right before spring break.”

“Oh shit, I remember! I kissed your cheek and you slapped the fuck out of me.”

“Bill was right there you fuckin-” he closed his eyes and sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That was the last time I felt happy, for a long time. My mom went apeshit the next morning about me being out so late right after being in the hospital.”

“I was going to ask you to prom and these were a bribe since I thought you were into Melissa.” he hissed through the ‘ss’.

“You thought I’d need a snickers to pick you over that?”

“I didn’t know what the fuck you were gonna do! I did what I could to prepar-” he was cut off by Richie’s mouth. He instinctively jumped but then succeeded into his touch.

Richie pulled away right as Eddie’s kissed him back.

“Eds, sometimes you just need to sit back and relax, daddy’s got you.” he patted the other boys back a little too heavy handed before leaning in to kiss him again.

When he regained his balance Eddie put his pointer finger to the other’s lips, preparing to scold him.

“First of all: Eddie, second: don’t eVER call yourself that or we aren’t going.” he waved his finger at him while withdrew it from his mouth.

“Fine, but after prom I can say what I want?”

“We’ll see how prom goes first, bubba.” Eddie noticed Richie start to open his mouth and figured there was really only one way for them to shut each other up.

Richie would be lying if he said he hadn’t figured that out seconds before Eddie.

I’ll never be quiet again.

He thought as Eddie kissed him senseless.

Saturday came quicker than he had expected.

Eddie hit the button on his alarm clock and stopwatch before groaning and throwing the covers over his head.

Prom is in 12 hours… Get fuckin’ ready.

He went through his daily morning routine swiftly but reluctantly. Beverly would be at his door in less than an hour and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

“Eddie-bear! Breakfast!”

He fist pumped for the amazing timing; ignoring the childish nickname it accompanied.

“Coming!”

Maroon Stacked Doc Martens skipped up the steps towards Eddie’s house, stopping on the austere “welcome” mat.

Not super welcoming.

She rapped on the door.

Mrs. Kaspbrak sighed at the interruption and made her way towards the culprit.

She looked through the peephole which just showed her empty porch. She assumed it was some dumb ding dong ditcher and returned to the living room before hearing another knock on the mahogany.

Fed up, she unlocked the door to figure out who was behind this disturbance.

She came face to face with none other than the she devil herself, Beverly Marsh. That dirty-

“Hi Mrs. Kaspbrak,” she said cheerily.

“What do you want with my son?” her eyes seared through Beverly’s.

“He wanted me to help him go prom shopping this afternoon I’m here to take hi-”

“Hi Beverly, sorry to keep you waiting,” the man in question popped out from behind the doorway to their kitchen.

“Hey Eddie.” Beverly smiled with pain in her eyes.

“Well bye mom, gotta go seeyoulaterloveyoubye!” Eddie shoved past his mom and followed Beverly down the steps to her car.

“Did my mom say anything too awful?” he asked after they were in the car.

“Nah, she didn’t have time.” she laughed into the back of her hand, other resting on the wheel.

"Okay.” Eddie sighed, shaking like a branch in the spring wind, “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

*Cue prom shopping montage*

Thaks for reading!! 💖

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #it 2017 #it fanfiction #hardly any of this is canon #two yr old draft again #reviving my dead content #gaspbrat #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stanley uris #bill denbrough #fics

[maryenette-writes]

Imperfect Pt. 8 [Batsis]

A/N: I FINALLY WROTE THE NEXT PART (after like three months? or more?). Sorry for the long wait, I hope it lives up to your expectations. There’s quite a bit of action in this, Batsis being badass >:) But unfortunately, not a lot of interactions.

Also, I lost all my tags because I accidentally deleted my taglist, so I’m sorry if I didn’t tag you :( I was just going off what I had last time and the asks I received recently 

Pairing: None

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1711

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

MASTERLIST

When [F/N] arrived at the location of the supposed terrorists, the others hadn’t began their attack… yet. Knowing the way her father did things, [F/N] knew that no one would be killed… if they didn’t piss Jason off, that is. The idea was to raid the place, then investigate later, a plan she highly disagreed on. Not only will that give their targets time to eliminate valuable data, it was risky, considering they could be losing key suspects.

However, when she brought that up, Bruce dismissed it, stating that Tim could easily recover any deleted data.

Now, she loved her younger brother, but they heavily underestimated the enemy. Even after months of investigation on these people, they didn’t seem to grasp how dangerous and capable these people were. They had the CIA on the edge of their seats, and that’s saying something.

Not to mention they discovered and eliminated a veteran agent.

[F/N] knew that she had to get the data before the place was raided. It was no doubt going to be difficult, as the place was under heavy surveillance, not taking into account the guards patrolling the place.

[F/N] sighed, mentally going over her plan as she geared up. She was not one for guns, not because she didn’t kill--she actually had done quite a bit of that, though Bruce didn’t have to know--but because it was unnecessarily loud and messy. She also hated dealing with the possibility of running out of bullets. So she only had two guns on her, the rest of her offensive weapons consisted of knives, electric traps, and a bo-staff.

Once she was done, she silently approached the compound, melting into the shadows with her black catsuit. Using her special contacts, she scanned the area and located a total of three cameras and two bodyguards. She spotted her way in through a vent opening.

As cliche as that sounded, it always worked for her.

Careful to stay out of the camera, [F/N] quietly climbed her way up the building and opened the vent, entering it with ease. She opened a hologram of the building’s layout from her wristband and used it to navigate her way into their archive room, where all the data was stored.

Unfortunately, the vent didn’t lead up to that room, nor the hallways leading there. From the reports she recovered from her friend, the door required a code to enter. [F/N] dropped down into a small broom closet and opened her holographic computer, hacking into the network and tampering with the security cameras. She silently thanked her friend for tampering with the system before he was killed, or else she would never have gotten in. Whoever was in charge of their technology, they were good.

After ensuring that the cameras were not a problem anymore, [F/N] snuck out of the closet and into the hallways. She kept well away from the guards, having memorized their shifts from sitting on the sidelines for so long. She reached the archive room in no time.

“Okay… let’s see here…” she mumbled to herself, opening the code panel. “Wow… okay… okay, I can work with this…” she whispered, slightly surprised when she saw the complexity of the technology used. According to her timer, she had six minutes until a pair of guards crossed this hallway, meaning she had to be quick.

Luckily for her, time was on her side and she unlocked the door quickly. [F/N] closed the door and went straight to the control panel, inserting a drive in to extract all the data she could on these people.

As she was going through the data, her eyes widened at the files she was seeing.

“You’re kidding me…” she gasped quietly, scanning over the evidence she was getting. These people were worse than she and the CIA initially thought, not to mention this plot went deeper than anyone predicted.

She had to get this to the bureau.

Then an alarm went off.

The room dimmed and there was an alert on the monitor, followed by an automatic shutdown. [F/N] swore and quickly worked on repowering the machine, typing furiously to bypass the initial commands.

However, her progress was halted when the door opened, and several men and women entered. Noticing an intruder, they didn’t even wait a second to draw their guns out and start shooting. [F/N] just dodged the first wave of bullets aimed at her.

“What the hell…” she cursed as she drew her own guns. She waited for the enemy to approach her hiding spot and instantly shot him in the head before turning and shooting the others in the room. Although she preferred not to use guns in her missions, that did not mean she had a poor aim. Her shots landed right where she wanted them to land.

After quickly eliminating the enemies, [F/N] took the drive and made her way out of the room, deeming that it was too dangerous to stay. Who knew what else would come her way, or what kind of mechanism they had in place in case of an attack. For all she knew, there could be a bomb just ready to obliterate the building any second.

She did not want to wait to find out.

When she exited the room, [F/N] ran down the hallway and turned, only to be met with a group of armed guards. And of course, they noticed her.

With a sigh, [F/N] pulled out her guns once more. “Every damn time…” she mumbled before she began shooting.

The guards didn’t stand a chance.

Knowing that this stealth mission was ruined, [F/N] decided to get out of the building by force. What triggered the alarm, she didn’t know. There was a possibility it could be her, but considering the shock when they saw her in the archive room, she deduced that it was most likely due to her family’s attack. That meant they were focused on the attack from the outside, rather than a intruder from the inside.

[F/N] quickly took down those who stood in her way. She had the element of surprise; they didn’t know she was already inside, confirming her suspicions. When she finally went outside, she spotted Dick and Damian effortlessly fighting the guards. Seeing them defeat the enemies so seamlessly made her slightly jealous, but she had no time to dwell on it. Four more were coming her way.

[F/N] shot at them, but she ran out of bullets quickly, having spent them on earlier foes. Deeming the weapon useless, she threw it at their faces, using it as a distraction for her to run up to them, close enough to disarm them physically.

[F/N] went into auto-pilot mode.

During her training, she had gone up against people twice her size, and multiple people at a time. During her time in the field, she had been forced to fight against all the odds. She was used to fighting. The difference between training and the field, though, was that she didn’t pull her punches in the field.

Which was why when she felt someone grab her from behind, her first instinct was to hopefully get out of his hold. When that didn’t work, she didn’t think twice as she grabbed her knife and blindly swung her arm back.

From the scream and the way he loosened his hold on her, it was safe to say she got him.

The fight was soon over, and thankfully everyone--save for their enemies of course--emerged unharmed. [F/N] took her knife from the now deceased man and cleaned it. When she looked up, she saw everyone staring at her.

“What?” she asked, guessing they were probably going to ask why she disobeyed Bruce’s order.

“[F/N],” said Bruce, approaching her ominously. Although his face was partially covered with a cowl, she could feel the disappointment and anger he exerted. However, it was… different. It wasn’t slight, it felt like a raging fire, swallowing up whole forests and no amount of water or rain could stop it.

Bruce didn’t say anything. He simply cast his eyes down at the corpse in front of her. At first, [F/N] couldn’t tell what was wrong. Sure she disobeyed him, but he had never been this angry with her before, even during those times she embarrassed him in front of his colleagues.

But then, she realized it.

He saw her kill.

Slowly, very slowly, Bruce looked back up at her. [F/N] swallowed, realizing the weight of the situation.

Sirens blared in the distance, followed by the dim glare of flashing lights. Her father stilled for a moment as he assessed the situation. [F/N] used to be able to read her father, and her family. They never realized but she had been studying them for the longest time. She could always tell what they were thinking.

Yet right now, her father was blanker than paper to her. She just couldn’t read him, and that scared her more than any mission she had been on.

“We’ll deal with this back home,” he said quietly, his voice monotone, “go. I’ll deal with the cops.”

His tone told her she couldn’t argue. The others seemed to realize the sheer fury that was to face them, because none of them quibbed or even made a single noise. However, [F/N] couldn’t leave.

“I’m with the CIA,” she stated, her voice full of mock confidence, “I have to oversee the detainees, and clear this situation. I’m better suited for this. You should go.”

[F/N] was playing a dangerous game here. She had no idea how her father would react.

“This is my city--”

“And this is my mission.”

[F/N] stared at him. Now, standing in front of him, her father looked taller than ever. His shadow seemed to engulf her. She balled her hands and gritted her teeth. She refused to look away first.

As the sirens grew louder, Bruce finally gave in. He turned and began to walk away, but before he disappeared, he turned to her.

“We’ll talk later.”

When he was gone, [F/N] released the breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

TAGS: @pinkwitch21 @coffee-randomness @angstytodd @lovingmytelevision @ifthisislove-loveiseasy @spacewife @galaxy-jellyfish-queen @femdamian @theamazingrain @batbros-before-hoes @american-assassin-and-superhero @hyp-oh-critical @justpensandpaper @nervouswastelandvoid @animelover460 @paradise-runway  @forevershadeddark @atlantiqves @suicidal-dakota @princess-of-skaia @jasnxtoddssideblog @fuvkingkillme @geeksareunique @alohabucky @lifeisfullofupsanddownsliveit  @myfantasybookyalife @rae-is-a-bishu @obeawolf   @confuse-teen-girl   @aworldwideapart @solis200213 @wtfisachoncexx @minchen0897 @kazuha159 @rage-regretseverything @lastbeliever @otaku-fangirlse @bookgirl617 @moonsandstar-enthusiast @bon-travail98 @fuvkingkillme @ellaprime68 @mrstomlifford @hoodedhavok @ladyfairenvale @princess-of-skaia @totallovelesson @ss-seguso @weirdestmentalityphilosopher @carryondrarry @avenge-my-nuggets @re-learning @zaynashaw1 @lexilooloo7 @mama-aqua @glitter-sparkle-shine @minchen0897 @blizzerdeclipx @walwuss @alyfabotaku

#dc comics #dc comics fanfiction #batman #bruce wayne #batsis #damian #robin #batfamily #damian wayne #bruce #dick grayson #richard grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #fanfiction

[theboywiththedemonblood]

Expectations vs Reality pt. 3

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, Wincest Rating: Mature (will be Explicit in other parts) Summary:  Looking back, Sam Winchester couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he had decided that having sex with his older brother was the most logical and healthy thing to do, especially since growing up he had never looked twice at a man. Then again, a little over a year ago he had been excelling at Stanford, living in Palo Alto with a gorgeous girlfriend and now he was washing ghoul blood off his hands in a dingy motel bathroom in bumfuck Kansas, so to say his expectations for the future had not exactly come true would be an understatement. or Sam takes the academic approach to sibling incest. Warnings: Hint of non-con somnophilia if you squint, incest (obviously), co-dependent relationship, slow burn, general fucked up shit inherent to the show, set in s1-2

Part 1

Part 2

The brothers’ experience with Max severely freaked Sam out: the similarities between their origins, him being unable to stop the boy’s suicide and his own momentary bout of telekinesis all painted a disturbing picture. Like it or not, Sam was part of something sinister, something that had shaped his whole life from his infancy and had sent his family onto a path of death and ruin. Following that case he was gloomy and irritable, Dean constantly catching him lost in his thoughts and throwing him worried glances.

In his somewhat distracted state, Sam was ambushed and kidnapped by the Bender family. Dean came for him and they made it out alive, but the experience shook them both to the core and prompted Sam to action. He realized that while he was worrying about his possible destiny they could have been killed and not even by the demon their father was hunting, but by humans, a bunch of sick and twisted cannibals at that! It really put things into perspective.

They didn't linger in Hibbing, but got a motel in a neighboring town. Taking advantage of Dean's exhaustion and him looking bloody and dirty, Sam went in to book their room on his own and made it a king, instead of two queens. Dean froze on the threshold and Sam had to put in all his acting talent to make his words sound nonchalant: “Yeah, sorry, they didn't have any rooms with two queens left, apparently there is a church choir convention in town or something. Figured we can share for one night. I'm beat.” Dean wavered in the doorway, but his own fatigue eventually won out and he dumped his duffel on the floor and stomped to the bathroom.

Dean remained jumpy the rest of the night, throwing furtive glances at Sam and the bed and blushing while Sam pretended not to notice. They eventually called it a night and got into bed: Dean curled up on the very edge, his back to Sam. 

Sam waited patiently until he heard Dean's breath slow and his brother started to snore softly. Tentatively, Sam rolled over and draped himself over his brother’s back. He held his breath and listened for signs that the action had woken Dean, but his brother was dead to the world. He breathed out and relaxed, allowing himself to focus on how it felt to be this close to Dean. 

While his brother’s body was unmistakably masculine: hard lines, lean muscles, broad shoulders, he was still dwarfed by Sam’s larger size. He didn’t know what he had expected, because cuddling up to Dean was really not that different than from being in bed with Jess or another woman. His brother’s body was warm and alive, Sam could feel his steady heartbeat under the hand he had slung over his chest. When he stroked his fingers over Dean’s bare arm, it was soft. 

Sam buried his nose in the nape of Dean’s neck and inhaled deep. His brother smelled of shampoo, gunpowder and the inside of the impala and that familiar scent hit Sam hard. It was home, it was happiness, it was love. For a few moments he just laid there, breathing him in, unaware that he had instinctively wrapped his body around Dean’s. Warmth slowly pooled in his gut and started to spread. 

He mouthed at the salty skin right above Dean’s t-shirt collar. Dean made a little sleepy sound and shifted. Sam’s hips thrust up and rubbed against his brother’s ass. With a start he realized he was hard. Whether it was all because of Dean or partly because his body hadn’t gotten any for a long time, he didn’t know, but it at least clearly answered the question is he was physically able to reciprocate Dean’s sexual feelings. 

He had to force himself to disengage from Dean and roll away. A little innocent touching while sharing a bed wasn’t a big deal, but humping his sleeping brother was crossing the line. 

Sam lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly this little experiment of his had gotten very serious. His body was tingling and he found himself longing to breach the distance between them. He wondered if this was how Dean was feeling and if so, how he could stand it. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep and when he woke up the next morning, Dean was already up and in the shower. His brother clearly didn’t want to stay in the room longer than strictly necessary and found them a new case in less than an hour. Admittedly, the case was unmistakably supernatural: two people gruesomely killed in a locked apartment with no signs of breaking and entering. 

While the case started routine enough, it quickly went downhill, starting with the clues not adding up to any monster they were familiar with and the blood spatter showing a weird symbol. Then that night, while investigating a lead, they ran into Meg. Although Sam had liked the woman well enough when he had first met her, even flirted with her a little, her conveniently turning up in another state in a bar where they were investigating and acting all possessive over him, made Sam’s skin crawl and he was immediately suspicious. Dean, on the other hand, masked his obvious jealousy by juvenile teasing.

Sam turned out to be right about Meg and everything pointed in the direction that this case not only had something to do with their family, but might actually lead them to the demon their father had been hunting all their lives. The thought that they were so close to finally finding and killing their mother’s and Jess’ murderer and this life-long vendetta could be over in a few days did something to Sam. He had been settling into this life, getting used to hunting again, getting to terms with Dean’s feelings for him and his own for his brother, assuming he was in for the long haul when suddenly he was presented with the possibility it could all be over just like that. He could go back to Stanford, pick up his broken life, Dean could do something else, find his own way, dad could settle down. He didn’t realize exactly what thoughts he was voicing, until he saw the utter devastation on Dean’s face. He really should have known that despite Dean’s feelings for him making it awkward between them and Dean being obviously upset, his brother still harbored a, perhaps naive, dream that the three of them could go back to the way things had been. For Dean, family would still be number one. Since Sam couldn’t take back his words, he focused on the case instead.

They didn’t kill the demon, they didn’t even get to see the demon. Instead they got caught, tied up and nearly killed. Bruised and battered, they dragged themselves back to the motel where another surprise awaited: John Winchester. Seeing his father safe and sound, made Sam temporarily forget the resentment between them. He was just glad to have him back. However, John’s return didn’t last long and soon after the reunion they were separating again. 

Sam still felt bad about what he had said to Dean, especially since it wasn’t even really true. While he did not want to return to the way things had been, knew he couldn’t really live under his father’s constant disapproving eye, he also didn’t want to live without Dean anymore. He loved him too much to lose him again. 

Dean, of course pretended he wasn’t hurt and hid behind juvenile behavior, pranks, dares, actual itching powder in Sam’s clothes. He decided that the best course of action would be to go along with it and in the end it was. They got it out of their system and the air was cleared between them. Sam felt lighter seeing Dean laugh and joke again. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t stop looking at his brother. 

Now that the blinders had been taken off, he had become really aware of how attractive his brother was and how much he wanted to act on the feeling he now knew they both shared. He knew, however, that if he cornered Dean, he would deny everything and possibly punch him in the face, so he approached the issue cautiously with little physical hints here and there. His eyes lingered on his brother’s body, on his full lips, on his striking eyes. He stood a little too close for comfort even for them. His hands didn’t quite leave once they got to touch Dean, until his brother made the effort to break the contact. Sam stopped any attempt at modesty and brazenly changed in their room instead of the bathroom. Dean did not fail to notice the changes. He kept throwing him surprised and concerned looks and acted twitchy around him, occasionally freezing like a deer in headlights.

Before Sam could even try to call him out or take the seduction further, they received a message from John about a case. As everything having to do with their father, it brought some tension between them, but as soon as they arrived at the coordinates, it was obvious this wasn’t going to be a run of the mill case. Dean was grim and nervous, clearly hiding something. It took Sam a while to get the whole story out of him. How he blamed himself for almost getting Sam killed and for letting the shtriga escape. Dean had been just a kid, he never should have been saddled up with that kind of responsibility in the first place. Sam’s heart went out to him and even if he didn’t agree, he understood a little better why his brother was so willing to follow John’s orders. He backed off and let Dean deal with the aftermath, not pushing his advances onto him, just silently being there for his brother. 

Unfortunately Sam backing off a little prompted Dean to not only throw himself into picking up girls, but also trying hook his brother up aggressively. It was as if he was trying to eliminate the possibility of temptation. Sam was hardly interested in picking up random girls at the bar, but when him taking a girl out on a date became pertinent to a haunted painting case he didn’t have sufficient excuses. 

And going out with Sarah was hardly a chore. At any other point in his life Sam would have been smitten with her from the start, she was beautiful and smart. They had a recent loss, a dead mother and an authorative father in common. But he resented Dean all but physically pushing him on her and finally blew up on him for it. His brother surprised him then. He was worried about Sam’s well-being and about him getting over Jessica. In part he was right. Jess had been on his mind when he had first considered returning Dean’s affections. He was still grieving her and moving on, with his brother of all people, seemed disrespectful to her. “I would think he’d want you to be happy, god forbid have fun once in a while,” Dean had said, and yes, that was true enough, Jess had been kind and mischievous. She had loved him and he was sure she would’ve want him to be happy, even if he himself thought he didn’t deserve it. But it wasn’t some random girl in a bar, or even Sarah, who had made him laugh, who had lifted the burden a little, it had been Dean. Unfortunately when he even hinted at this whole this being only partly about Jess, his brother looked so uncomfortable, scared almost, that he dropped it. They had a case to solve after all and he had a second date to arrange. 

Things didn’t go quite as planned. With the painting sold and another life in danger, soon Sarah was dragged into the whole mess. She proved herself capable and resourceful and he ended up falling for her a little. Talking to her about his loss and his fears helped. It put into perspective why his advances with Dean had been so hesitant: a part of him was scared that deepening their relationship with a sexual aspect might put his brother in more danger. It also helped him realize how silly that idea was. Their lives were already constantly in danger after all. 

He still kissed her on her porch like he is in some high school rom-com, because she is lovely and deserves a proper goodbye and Dean needs to man up and for once talk about his feelings instead of pushing him away. Although as he watched her disappear through the car window he wasn’t sorry about leaving, because he felt Dean breathe a sigh of relief next to him.

#supernatural fanfiction #wincest #wincest fanfiction #spn fanfic #my writing #Expectations vs Reality

[artificialqueens]

Isn’t it lovely...pt.2 {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

“Ask, and it shall be given you.” - Someone from the Bible probably somewhere idfk.

“Ask and daddy will write it for you.” - imafuckinglibra. (Can you tell I’ve been listening to Bianca’s audiobook on repeat?)

Dear anon, Yes I read notes. And that goes to everyone else sending me notes, both of you. So here is a bonus chapter about what happened after Danny posted the selfie in the last chapter. You don’t necessarily need to read the last chapter to understand anything here but it might help context wise so go ahead idk I’m not a scientist. XOXO - k bye

“How the fuck ya’ll doing!” Bianca yelled loudly into the mic at the cheering sea of people walking out onto the stage. “Since it takes Visage a good fucking 3 hours to fit those titties into her dress I have to be the one to do her fucking job. Fucking douche.”

The crowd cheered at her shady comment about the usual MC as she slapped the big blue cards labeled with the bubbly ‘snatch game’ logo on her palm to straighten them out.

“Before something else goes wrong let’s bring these assholes on stage and get it over with!” She quipped stepping back from the curtains to allow the other queens an easy entrance.

Without wasting time she introduced the other queens, or celebrities, as they had to be referred to for snatch game. First up it was Sharon as her now iconic Joan Rivers, next Manilla as Madonna and then Alaska as her, weirdly very accurate, Laganja.

“And of course we saved the 2nd best for last, because she lost, Adore Delano!”

Bianca called the last queen’s name out ignoring the few aw’s from the crowd and watched as the younger queen skip out onto the stage in her grungy make up, oversized flannel and bright red wig nearly falling off her high chair when she went to sit down.

“Idiot.” She mumbled under her breath away from the mic giving the audience a second to calm down as Adore waved enthusiastically at them between throwing Cheetos their way.

She tried to remain as professional as possible and keep her distance from the younger but had found herself a few times between questions wandering back to the end of the line next to Adore.

Every so often the grungy queen, who was eating Cheetos out of a bag almost bigger than her, would make faces at her between answers distracting her from what the other contestants were saying.

“Oh, fuck you! It’s comedy!” Sharon drawled on in her shakey impression of Joan’s voice after the audience gasped at her Bruce Jenner comment.

“Alright beautiful.” Bianca intervened before Sharon could add anything else, throwing a shady expression her direction to keep a straight face so she could read the next question.

Hearing her answers a million times never got old, neither did her lame impression. For some reason it always hit her right in the funny bone and once or twice in the bus after a few drinks Sharon had used it against her.

Somewhere on one of their fellow tour mate’s phones a video of them drunk off their asses going “O-oh.” repeatedly existed. A video which she prayed never fell into the wrong hands.

“Uh, Adore, I just want to say I feel like you were coming for me.” Alaska jumped in before she could even look at the card for the next question.

Bianca turned away from the audience and started laughing loudly just from the sheer stupidity of the back and forth happening between Alaska and Adore after Adore’s high pitched. “When?”

Even just the memory of actually being there during the real exchange of words till this day made her piss herself because of how ridiculous it was, especially Laganja’s llama face during it all.

“Okay! Focus people, let’s get this shit over with for fucks sake. Hedda the Hoarder is such a…fuck you cunt.” She snapped spinning around quickly when she felt something falling out of her wig.

The hushed giggling from the audience turned into a loud eruption of laughter as she stared down the culprit who was grinning mischievously back at her with her hand still hovering mid air.

Adore quickly grabbed another bigger piece from the bag and placed it halfway between her teeth wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

“No.” Bianca broke face and shook her head but Adore didn’t let up. She simply continued wiggling her painted black brows.

Damn this bitch had her wrapped around her finger.

She caved and almost hesitatingly leaned forward biting into the cheesy snack, their lips grazing over each other lightly in the process but Bianca never allowed them to fully touch and give Adore the satisfaction of a kiss.

Which wasn’t easy that’s for shit sure.

They’d been on the Battle of the Seasons tour for about a month and in that time they’ve only had one night off where they could stay in a hotel thus far.

Being in different bunks separate from each other and unable to find any privacy had taken a drastic toll on both.

In the year since Adore, or Danny, had posted the photo of them together and not so subtly announced their relationship to the world they’d only been separated for a few nights. Not being able to touch her love or even share a bed was doing things to her Bianca would rather not speak off.

Once Bianca pulled back after biting into the Cheeto Adore did a quick little victory dance in a small circle.

“Yeah I eat. Okay here we go.” She quipped at the cheering people but when the stickiness of the snack started coating the roof of her mouth making it hard to chew or even speak she had to turn to the back of the stage.

“You okay, babe?” Adore quietly asked behind her.

“Food.” She brushed off the other’s concern and deadpanned smacking her lips. “Here we go.”

When she still couldn’t talk she turned away again trying to contain her own laughter. She saw Adore peering slightly to one side laughing at her. “You fucking look like a poodle eating peanut butter.”

“I’m not use to that.” Bianca started laughing along in the way she usually did right before a shady comment. “We don’t do that when we have money.”

There it was - the shade.

Adore, who was picking up a Cheeto that she failed to catch in her mouth, sprung up like an angry emo meerkat and glared at her popping the dropped treat into her mouth.

She quickly moved on through everyone’s answers and made her way back to the start of the queue at Adore. Eyeing her suspiciously in case she dropped a cheeto on her again before she asked the next question.

“The city of Las Vegas is so queer, the mounted police ride…”

After Adore’s very classy burp for an answer she wiped off her mic against her gown. Milking the moment by pulling a few shady faces and making a comment about never thinking she’d be excited to hear what Manilla had to say as she made her way between the 2 queens.

Just as she started repeating the question to Manilla Adore rested her head on her shoulder sending butterflies through her stomach.

Being out in public in drag still felt oddly taboo despite neither of them ever really shying away from any form of pda when they were out of drag.

She ignored the fluttering in her tummy and continued reading the question off the cardboard cue cards. In the split second before Manilla could answer Adore, with her chin resting on her sequined shoulder, whispered in her ear. “Quick kiss?”

She titled her head slightly for a quick peck just in time for Madonna to answer with Coco Montrese.

“And that was our snatch game our winner tonight is…who the fuck cares!” Bianca shouted after moving through Alaska and Sharon’s last answers as swiftly as possible.

But as she was saying goodbye thanking all the girls a final time she felt something scratchy slide off her shoulder and instinctively shot back already knowing who’s responsible. “Fuck you did you put food on me?”

“3 times.” Adore behind her smiled biting her lip.

“You did not? Party, pizza, it’s cool. Chola.” She channeled her inner Adore as best as possible singsonging random catchphrases as the younger started slowly exiting with the rest.

Bianca’s stare lingered in the bitchiest face she could manage watching the other queens disappearing behind the curtains before she ran back to the front of the stage to go in for the kill.

“I’m traveling with these people for a fucking month, girl. This is fucked up goddammit.” She pointed to the curtains unable to resist throwing in her last bit of shade before she jogged off after the others to go change as well.

“You’re going to have Cheeto hair now.” Adore turned in her heels holding her arms out when she noticed Bianca approaching behind her.

“Don’t do it again cunt.” Bianca snapped waving a finger in front of her face and giving her a quick kiss before shooing her along to the dressing room. “Now back to work. Go, bitch, go.”

-

“Adore, you ready?”

“Mh-yep.” The tall queen enthusiastically smiled as she skipped towards the big black couch in the little area set aside backstage for the girls to get ready in.

After the show they had to do a casual interview with some people from MTV about being on tour.

It consisted of 4 parts - how to throw shade, what makes a good selfie, high school yearbook awards and then a final one focusing on Adore Delano and her latest album.

The girls were all huddled in a corner watching the interviewer pull Adore to one side, Bianca however was standing so close to the cameraman she was practically closer to him than his shadow.

She warmly greeted the girl half her size already sitting down and the questions began.

“Hi, I’m Lana Cummings here from MTV and I’m here with season 6 finalist of RuPaul’s Drag Race and drag’s pop princess, the ever so lovely Adore Delano.”

Adore held her hand under her chin waving her fingers in true childish Adore fashion. “Meow meow.”

“It feels like this is the most you’ve sat down in the last, I don’t know, year, isn’t it? You’ve been pretty busy.”

“Yeah man, I um, I released my album Whatever last year. And I just finished the first half of my tour and now I’m doing this and when I’m done I’ll probably be going back on tour with my band again. Gotta make that money, money, money though you know?” She singsonged flashing her brightest smiled while fiddling with the zipper on her half zipped onesie with the sleeves tied around her waist.

Adore had untucked and gotten out of her costume the minute that curtain went down as always so when they asked her for the interview she simply slipped into one of Bianca’s onesies and a t-shirt.

“Now, speaking of your tour and the fact that you’re wearing a BDR onesie.” As she spoke Adore’s eyes flicked up at Bianca trying to hide her smile at the sight of the older queen panicking. “You and Bianca Del Rio, winner of season 6 of Drag Race, also announced your relationship last year and have since been labeled the power couple of drag.”

“Apparently, yeah.” Adore flipped some hair off her shoulder.

“I know she’s just as busy, how do you find time to even have a relationship because I mean you seem to be doing very well.”

“A lot of pissed off agents.” Adore started laughing hiding her mouth behind her hand.

“I can imagine, you’re referring to the last leg of your tour I’m assuming? She joined you this time on it, didn’t she?”

“Yeah she did, which has been totally awesome by the way.”

As she was talking about the last year of their relationship Adore started thinking back on all the sacrifices they’ve had to make since.

They had reworked their schedules, adding a few new shows here and there to their individual tours to allow them some time together. It wasn’t easy though, it meant once or twice Bianca would stay in a town for 3 days waiting just so Adore could come perform and they’d spend one night together.

It went on like that for the last 6 months of Bianca’s comedy tour till it finished and she could join Adore full time on the final 2 months of her tour.

Unfortunately that meant they had a very limited time back home to be together, a ‘real couple’, before they joined the rest of their sisters on the BOTS tour.

The real problem was that they were both severe workaholics with an annoying habit of never saying no to a job which was putting a strain on their relationship - physically that is.

2 weeks of no intimacy and Adore was already threatening to jump out of the bus into oncoming traffic.

Luckily for everyone’s sanity, not just the over eager love birds, it was finally an off weekend. They’d get to stay in a hotel for the night after the show before it was on to the next state.

“How has that worked? I mean isn’t she coming out with another movie? And I heard rumors of a book?” The reporter pulled her back from her thinking.

“The movie they had already wrapped filming on when we started touring so that wasn’t really a problem, but it comes out…” She quickly leaned back a little to look at Bianca for an answer. “May 18th! It comes out May 18th. And then yeah, she’s also been like writing a book and has these make up wipes coming out and shit, which are really good! Everyone go buy them. I want to go on a vacation after this.”

Bianca dropped her shaking head into her palm making Adore giggle even more.

“That’s amazing definitely be on a look out there! Back to you a little, you’ve always been very…open, with fans. Very candid. Has that changed since you’ve become public as a couple or how has fans received the news?”

“Um no, I don’t think it’s changed to be honest. I think like a lot of fans are sad because I don’t hook up with them anymore but for the most part everyone’s like, I knew it! I just think my fans are happy that I’m happy.” She smiled at her love proudly watching her, the hint of jealousy Adore was expecting after the hooking up comment twinkling in her eyes. “And that old fuck makes me very happy.”

She wasn’t lying, she was genuinely happy

After coming out to the public and drag fans around the world they’d only gotten closer. Adore had less panic attacks and freak outs about stress and Bianca actually took more time off from work to take care of herself too.

“Because I’m gonna’ die soon and she gets the cash.” Bianca chimed in with a scowl making everyone in the room laugh.

Adore blew her a kiss which she returned with a wink before they continued on with the rest of her interview.

-

“Well done ladies! Enjoy your free time and I’ll see you lot on the bus first thing in the morning!” Michelle raised her glass of champagne when the crew left and the ladies could all finish becoming themselves again.

The now half dedragged queens all raised their various beverages ranging from a diet coke to vodka and everything in between, everyone enthusiastically clinking them together.

“I cannot tell you how fucking relieved I am to finally get to sleep in a real bed.” Sharon sighed with a hint of laughter coming through when Adore dropped down next to her to finish turning back into Danny.

“Sames though.” The younger queen agreed looking up in the reflection at Bianca who was allowing Courtney to peel off her lashes.

“Well at least you have people to share a real bed with.” Courtney handed Bianca her lashes and looked over at Adore.

“That is true.” Bianca winked at her making the younger blush, seeing her so openly acknowledging their relationship made her heart light.

Getting to be an official couple had turned out even better than Danny had ever hoped it would. Sure Roy was a little ticked off in the beginning about how they - he, did it but that wasn’t long lived.

They spent the majority of the first month or so dealing with their relationship being the only question that would be asked in interviews or meet & greets with fans.

And whenever a fan would spot them together either at a show or just exploring whatever city they were in they’d usually get the same reactions.

“I knew it! Biadore was real!“

Or

“But what about so and so? I thought you’d make a way better ship.”

But they learned to brush it off fairly easily enough and continue on with their daily life. A daily life which Danny now sorely missed.

Being on tour with his friends and now his love was amazing, but he could finally 100% sympathize with why Sharon took Chad everywhere. The few months of touring without his man was torture.

“You done yet?” Roy’s hands on his shoulders knocked him out of his daydreaming.

“Mh-hm.” Danny nodded looking at them both in the reflection now fresh faced again.

“Anyone want to share an Uber?” Aaron asked handing Chad, who’s scrawny arms were already full, another one of his bags.

“We going to the club? That one we passed with the naked trade up front?” Jason, now dressed in his usual club outfit with his 50’s bad boy curl, chimed in.

“Yes, we’ll meet up with you there.” Aaron and Chad both agreed.

“It okay if we sit this one out?” Roy kissed Danny’s cheek.

“You guys don’t mind?”

“You do you.” Courtney shrugged but quickly turned red, “Not like that.”

“Or yes like that.” Jason grinned.

“Fuck you. See you bitches tomorrow.” Roy greeted the other queens off to their night out

-

They opted to walk back to the hotel instead of sharing the ride with Aaron and Chad so they could take in a bit more of the beautiful European city.

With Roy’s hand in the back pocket of Danny’s saggy grey jeans and the other holding his phone checking through his social media the couple made their way through the busy streets lit up with the locals chattering outside restaurants and bars.

Roy enjoyed moments like these. Simple moments of affection or privacy that every day couples took for granted.

Sure they weren’t Kardashian level famous but still, if they were simply walking around Hollywood like this they’d be stopped by drag fans around ever corner asking for selfies or a moment of their time.

Getting to just be with Danny in peace for once was almost relaxing, especially after nearly 2 years of only getting to sneak around in dodgy club bathrooms.

“Can you believe it’s been a fucking year?” Danny commented, clearly having the same thoughts haunting him. “Like when that reporter mentioned it I was a little like what the fuck for real?”

“Year and a half.”

“Really?” Danny looked at what Roy was scrolling through and saw it was the now infamous selfie he posted. “507 days. Year and some change. Wow.”

“Three years if you count the stuff before that.” Roy casually added.

“I don’t even think I own furniture that old.”

“You regretting your decisions there, Noriega?”

“Nope.” Danny kissed his temple. “I like being with you.”

“Oh yeah? What do you like?” Roy smiled.

“That you make me really good food or like cuddle me every morning instead of letting me get out of bed so I have an excuse to be lazy or late. Or taking bathtubs with me every night. Or throwing the blankie over me when I fall asleep on the couch. Or taking my make up off for me at the end of the night if I’m too loaded.”

Roy watched Danny’s expression soften and his eyes light up as his mind worked out more examples. It was nice to know that Danny felt the same way about him or that he was at least needed.

“Your mom likes me.” Roy added one of his own.

“That’s because you’re the same person.” Danny laughed making Roy blush.

He couldn’t fight the facts, they had the same personality and no bullshit approached to life which made it easy for them to bond fairly quickly. They even called each other once a day to complain to one other either about Danny needing a haircut or if he was eating healthily enough.

Bonnie had welcomed him into their family long before they ever went public. Not to mention when they did she was the first to text them with wedding plans, honeymoon locations, joined names, baby names, matching I heart my daddies outfits for the dogs - everything.

God knows how long she’d been planning all that shit.

“That looks so good.” Danny commented stopping dead in his tracks. Roy looked up from his phone to see what he was drooling at.

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes when he saw the object of Danny’s admiration was a conveyer belt of pizzas. “Want one?”

Danny nodded enthusiastically running over to the shop and Roy followed behind digging in his backpack for his wallet.

With Danny’s face pressed up against the sneeze guard and Roy hand’s lazily petting his back they went through all the options searching for which looked the best.

“Adore Delano!” They heard a girl behind then yelling in a thick British accent.

“Oh my god! It’s Bianca too!”

“Can we take a picture?” The first girl asked and without really giving them a chance to answer the pair and their friend pulled out their phones.

Danny and Roy looked awkwardly at each other as each girl took a queen by the arm and snapped a shot or two of them all together.

“Thank you so much!” The second girl started squealing looking at her phone already posting the picture.

“Take one of us too?” Danny, as gullibly naive as always, handed one of them Roy’s phone after grabbing it right out of hands.

Danny struck a pose next to the pizza with his elbow resting against the sneeze guard and Roy following his lead just showcased the pizza of Danny’s dreams. He knew there was no use in fighting it anyway.

The girls thanked them for being so gracious and almost as quickly as they appeared they ran away giggling amongst themselves.

As soon as they were out of earshot Danny turned his attention back to the pizzas and pointed at which slice he wanted.

“Really queen?” Roy asked scowling at him when he smiled back at him after ordering.

“Why you mad?”

“Don’t just fucking hand people my phone you idiot.” Roy scolded and quickly payed the man behind the counter, thanking him for posing too when they took the photos.

“I trust my fans.”

“I don’t even trust you.”

“That’s mean. You’re mean.” Danny took an aggressive bite from his treat.

“It good?” Roy wanted to make a shady comment about his childish behavior but the way his face lit up in bliss was just too cute.

“Tho good.” Danny took another big bite and closed his eyes chewing. “I’d thrade your dick for thiths pizza anyday.”

“Oh?” Roy raised a brow taking the pizza away from Danny and helping himself to a bite. “Well then fuck you you can sleep out here tonight.”

“No! I’m sorry, I’ll never disrespect your dick again.” Danny quickly tried taking back what he said embracing Roy.

“No, no. It’s too late. You’ve had your chance.”

“But daddy.” Danny whined pushing his bottom lip out.

“Ugh fine.” Roy rolled his eyes and pushed him off looking for their room key when they approached the hotel lobby. “But I’m topping this time.”

“But you look so cute when I’m topping.”

“Oh now I’m ugly too? Shady cunt.”

“Only when you’re mean.” Danny shrugged.

Roy snorted and pushed him into the elevator. Once the doors behind them shut he pressed Danny up against the wall and grabbed his dick through his pants.

“Careful. You’re not exactly getting in my good books here.” He growled palming him.

“Then you’ll have to fuck me till I learn my place.” Danny moved his hips up to meet Roy’s warm hand, feeling his underwear growing snugger.

Roy reached his hand inside the loose denim hanging around his waist and took hold of the head of Danny’s cock, giving it a squeeze. “You know what today is don’t you.”

“Uh-huh.” Danny nodded hissing softly when Roy’s thumb started stroking the fabric in circles. The friction against the sensitive head of his cock almost painful yet extremely pleasurable.

They heard the door pinging indicating they were approaching their floor and Roy quickly pulled his hand out just in time for the doors to open.

Instead he took hold of Danny’s hand and lead the giggling younger queen to their hotel room struggling to contain his own need for him any longer.

Once they were behind the locked door clothes began viciously flying over heads, starting with Roy’s jacket till only his pants and Danny’s tiny black briefs remained.

Danny got down on his knees to slide down the pesky joggers Roy was wearing that were getting in the way of him and his dick.

The rushed nature of their moment simmered down when their eyes met and something different than arousal ignited inside them both.

“Happy anniversary, my sweet.” The small glimmer in the brown of Roy’s eyes and the soft curving of his dimples around a faint smile as he said it reminded Danny that they didn’t have to worry about being caught anymore.

This was real. It was their anniversary and they were really a real couple. No rushing, no hushed I love yous, no hiding their commitment. It was like they were free.

“Happy anniversary.” Danny stood up and their pumped lips tenderly brushing over each other said the rest for them.

Once he felt Roy’s erection twitch against his Danny sunk back down to the task at hand that was previously interrupted.

Kissing between his hipbones first, savoring every slight quiver of Roy’s body as his lips placed gentle pecks all along the heated tan skin.

Slowly he pulled his boxers down kissing the newly exposed skin as he went till it was finally lowered enough to let his dick free.

Immediately when Roy’s dick sprung up Danny grabbed the head in his mouth making Roy release a very relieved sigh.

His hand stroking him off while his tongue continued lavishing the head with as much affection possible he looked up at Roy watching the lust pooling in his eyes.

With a sneaky smile he flattened out his tongue and trailed his cock along it till he it reached the tip of his tongue and he licked up any pre cum slowly oozing out. Watching Roy’s patience dwindling more each second.

Roy threw his head back when Danny took him in his mouth again, working him in further inch by inch with every pass of his head’s bops.

His painted nails scratching gently along the shivering tan thigh when he took him all in, holding the thick cock down his throat looking up at Roy for approval and the permission to pull back.

“That’s it, good boy.” Roy ran his fingers through his hair before pulling him back up by his jaw to resume their tender make out session. Their tongues leisurely dancing over and around each other as their hands felt up their bodies.

While Roy’s hands were exploring the sides of his slim waist Danny took him by the hand and lead him to the lusher than average hotel bed.

Going to lie down on his back with his hands cupping Roy’s face they drew out the moment for as long as possible. Simply enjoying every second of being together again at last.

Roy hovering over him with his hand snaking along Danny’s torso, his belly and down his inner thigh before traveling back up made the younger shiver with anticipation.

Danny was the first to cave and tear himself away from his lover with a smile before flipping himself over. Resting on his stomach wiggling his ass at Roy telling him exactly what to do without using his words.

Roy tried hiding his slight chuckling at Danny’s eagerness making him grind his hips into the sheets telling him to hurry it up. Instead he took his time pulling Danny’s underwear off caressing his cheeks after discarding the briefs. “I missed this ass. This perfect little impatient ass.”

“I can’t help it, being without you is actual torture. I hate it” Danny whined.

“I know baby.” Roy pulled his cheeks apart just enough to kiss around his entrance.

Danny lifted his ass every time he’d feel his lips against him in an attempt to get him closer to his target.

Eventually Roy couldn’t keep up his teasing any longer and started first by kissing his asshole gently before his tongue went to work. Every time he’d lick around the small pink muscle it made Danny whimper.

His whimpers soon turning lower and lower till they were full blown moans when Roy’s pointed tongue entered him.

“Please.” Danny breathed into the sheets looking back at him. “Your bag I think.”

Roy kissed his ass a final time and quickly reached behind him searching for the bag next to the bed. While he hunted for the lube Danny rotated himself again so he’d be on his back, stroking himself while he waited.

Roy resumed his position over him with his knees resting between his legs. While making out again Roy massaged his hole with his thumb now drenched in heavy pink lube.

Danny brought his legs up against his chest when Roy eventually began lubing himself up as well.

Now simply staring at each other Roy gradually began entering him, watching Danny’s mouth drop open wider the further he pushed himself in.

“You good?” Roy asked as he started rolling his hips very slowly. Barely moving at first to allow Danny’s asshole to adjust again after their 2 weeks of forced celibacy.

“Mh-hm.” Danny nodded running his hands up from his thighs to pull his ass into him trying to get more.

Roy’s shallow thrusting began picking up pace when the tight asshole enveloping him relaxed at last.

Not long after the dimly lit room filled with a symphony of bodies slapping and the joined moans of both men so starved for intimacy finally getting what they most needed.

“Kiss me.” Danny whispered between pants.

Roy bent down to kiss him with as much intensity as his hips slapping into him while his hands on Danny’s ribs kept him pinned down.

With the younger’s legs over Roy’s shoulders he could fully enter him with ease. The force of his body driving every inch of his dick into him not only driving Roy completely wild but also very clearly Danny but the way he was gripping the sheets.

“Harder.” He pleaded closing his eyes. His fingers around the fabric only clenching tighter when his thrusts turned deeper, more forceful as asked.

Knowing exactly how down right evil it would be to tease Danny like this when his orgasm was building up a steady momentum Roy sat back on his knees.

Danny however surprised him by simply opening his legs and with a smile he took matters into his own hands - literally. With a firm grip around his dick he began jerking himself off while a now slightly thrown off Roy added more lube onto his cock.

“Enjoying the view?” Danny raised a smug brow watching Roy following his lead. Stroking himself as well, staring with a somewhat proud expression at the hand jacking himself off.

“You’re so fucking stunning.” Roy praised in a low, hungry voice, running his fingers along Danny’s inner thigh. “And so is your beautiful fucking cock.”

While Roy continued working himself he leaned down into Danny’s spread lap and took as much of his cock into his mouth as possible. “Ah shit…” Danny dropped his head into the pillows when Roy’s well experienced mouth began sucking him off. Hollowing his cheeks as his head bopped in rhythm with his hand.

The way he twisted his head every time his mouth closed back around the tip of his cock before enveloping his entire member only made Danny unbelievably desperate. “Fuck me please. Please, Daddy.”

Roy smirked victoriously for getting him to beg, he knew Danny only called him daddy like that when he was truly unable to contain himself.

Keeping his hands on Danny’s hips to help guide him Roy reinserted himself back into his tight hole.

Being just as impatient as his love at this point he wasted no time in picking up his previous pace immediately, disregarding the body trembling beneath him from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh fuck me.” Danny breathed out, his eyes locked between their bodies to watch his ass getting pounded. “Fuck that’s good.”

“Keep playing with yourself.” Roy instructed and Danny happily obliged still jerking himself off. “Good boy.”

Fueled by the guttural moans coming from the younger Roy’s shallow thrusting quickly morphed into deep deliberate strokes, hammering himself balls deep into his ass as he began feverishly kissing his neck again.

Gnawing at the heated skin below his jaw, at the spot he knew all to well could turn Danny into jelly in mere seconds.

“I’m going to cum.”

“When?” Roy’s nails dug into the soft skin of his hips allowing him to pick up the tempo of his movements again. “Soon.”

“Tell me when.” When Danny didn’t respond Roy pulled his attention back to him with his fingers digging into his chin so he could look straight into his hooded hazel eyes. “Answer me.”

Danny nodded, unable to form words from the tightness in his abdomen growing unbearable. He lifted his head up so they could kiss again as he pushed him back slowly into a seated position without ever letting his cock slip out.

Roy leaned back with his hands holding onto the sheets behind him as Danny took over, bouncing vigorously onto his lap desperate to finally climax.

The head now buried in Roy’s shoulder and teeth biting into whatever flesh it could find leaving red teeth marks all along his collarbone and up his neck was enough to tell Roy exactly what was about to happen even before his warning.

“Babe.” Danny cried.

Roy hastily pushed him off onto his back and lunged between Danny’s legs to take his cock in his mouth before it was too late.

Danny instinctively grabbed hold of his short black hair with both hands, bucking his hips up to shoot his load down Roy’s throat with a final few high pitched grunts.

“That’s it.” Roy praised squeezing the tip of Danny’s still pulsing cock to work out the last of his cum careful not to let any go to waste.

The gorgeous view from where he was sitting was nearly enough to make him bust his load right then and there as well.

He still couldn’t fathom how the gorgeous young man on his back, squinting through slightly glossed over eyes with his puffy plump lips wide open was really his.

Roy let go slowly of his cock licking the last remnants of his orgasm off his lips when Danny brought his hand down to caress his cheekbone with the back of his knuckles.

“Roy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roy smiled and began attempting to make his way back up Danny’s body when the younger stopped him.

“Wait,” Danny pushed himself up with shakey limbs and rolled over. Playfully wiggling his round ass in front of Roy’s face again. “Show me.”

“You still good for more?” Roy asked giving the bubbly ass a good hard spank.

“Always.” Danny bit his lip.

“Up against the wall.”

Danny obeyed and scooted on his knees over to the headboard with his hands resting above it as Roy reinserted himself behind him.

“I really do love you, so so much.” Roy emphasized every word with a bite along his nape. Covering the orange butterfly tattoo with small kisses as he resumed his thrusting.

Showing Danny exactly how much he needed him with every rapid slap of his body against his. His arms clinging around his waist as tightly as the pressure was building between his legs.

“I want you to cum inside me.” Danny whispered looking back at him.

His seductive words sent straight electricity down Roy’s spine. His hand held Danny’s head up exposing his reddened neck both from his arousal and the hickeys already forming on it.

“Dirty fucker.” He breathed against one of the faded bruises from their first night in a hotel on tour before clamping onto the skin again.

“Mmh your dirty fucker.” Danny mused licking his top lip.

“You are mine.” Roy said softer, the nature of his words and the heavy slams against his ass contrasting each other.

“I am. I’m yours, only yours my beautiful Willow.” He whispered against his lips as they met once again. The arm stretched behind him caressing the back of his head.

“Let me look at you.” Roy instructed pulling out again giving his ass a hard slap. “Back. Now.”

Both now back in their starting position again Danny scratched his nails into his ass making Roy hiss as he slid into him again.

He pulled him forward so he could look into his eyes holding onto either sides of his jaw.

“You gonna cum for me?” Danny bit onto Roy’s lip.

“Fuck yeah.” Roy breathed out into his mouth when his orgasm continued building closer as fast as he was pummeling into him.

“Cum for me baby.”

Danny’s sultry words of encouragement alone were enough for Roy to be pushed over the edge he’s been trying so hard to keep himself away from.

“Oh…fu…” Roy groaned pounding himself balls deep into his young lover again a final time when he gave into his orgasm. Shooting his load into Danny’s ass.

His limbs began trembling struggling to keep himself upright when his much awaited climax hit him like a ton of bricks.

While coming down from his orgasmic high he kept himself steady by focusing just on kissing those lips he loved, letting himself grow limp inside him before he pulled out and rolled over next to him.

“You’re secretly such a cock whore I love it.” Danny snickered wiping some leftover cum from earlier off Roy’s chin.

“Pot meet kettle.” Roy slapped his chest in retaliation. “Now go clean up.”

Danny gave him a very offended look which was made keeping a straight face at nearly impossible for Roy. “You made the mess you clean it, and because you’re so bossy you can call room service.”

“Hey I’m not doing all the work, you lazy bitch.” Roy rolled off the bed and walked over to where he threw their bags earlier. Digging through his backpack for his glasses case. “Besides,if you don’t cook or clean you won’t exactly make very good wife material.”

“Whatever.” Danny rolled his eyes throwing a pillow at Roy.

He took his glasses out and threw the other contents they hid from the girls in the small blue case out on the bed next to Danny before he went into the bathroom to get them a cloth.

After cleaning off the so called ‘mess’ he made Roy sat back against the headboard. Danny was resting against his chest with Roy’s arm protectively around him and their fingers intertwined.

Danny lifted their clasped together hand examining their woven fingers before smiling up at Roy kissing him softly. “Happy 6 months, bossy.”

“Happy 6 months, my love.” Roy tilted his head smiling into his lips kissing him back.

“Should we tell?” Danny held their hands up in front if them, admiring the way the lamp’s soft glow hit the gold around their fingers just right making it sparkle. “Husband.”

#isnt it lovely #imafuckinglibra #bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #smut #fluff #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant

[derekhaleimagines]

Remedy pt.2

Tags: @the-shewxlf, @megant22, @sexywolfsfordays, @houseofrahl, @sterek-basically, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @misshinehou, @unbreakablevoices, @champagneblues, @dallysgreasergirl, @juliaspnlover, @cineyou, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @fallenangel-13x, @urwarriorangel, @bless-my-demons, @lunaskyhunter, @arkhamirwin, @fangirlnerd101​, @m-a-t-91​, @meanwhilesmiley​, @edithambroreigns​, @totallovelesson​@kxttykatmichael​

Word count: 3605

Author’s note: I’m shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that I can now insert some good ol’ House gifs in my posts. Also, authentically depicting House’s character is way harder than I initially thought, but hey -- it’s my first time with him and I’m trying :) Aaaand prepare for some (a lot of) feels! Enjoy!

Betas: @i-am-a-misguided-misfit, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @mixed-up-fangirl, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @fallenangel-13x, @the-shewxlf, @b-chocolatelover, @from2016, @safiac, @random-fandom-fangirl2112

Masterpost

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“A shot man blacked out? You called me back to the hospital for this, idiot? There is no mystery,” House points out to me in a harsh, chiding tone. Clearly he’s moody because he’s back to work, and as such, he doesn’t fail to humiliate me in front of the entire Team for God knows how many time. But it’s fine; I’m getting used to it, and I’m usually not the only victim to his stinging snark.

“He doesn’t remember how it happened. After leaving the message I asked him further questions and it turned out that he hardly ever gets shot,” I say. House frowns at me, while his hand is rubbing his right leg instinctively, apparently without his conscious consent to it. A few seconds later, he averts his mesmerising blue eyes from me only to dart it at the dark grey rug, deep in thought.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” he states firmly, but the heat has now subsided from his tone. “Every cop gets shot from time to time.”

“Would it have been the better choice to leave him there just like that?” I snap. “I thought our priority was healing and making sure no one has further latent sicknesses by investigating until we’re convinced with one out of the many choices,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest and giving House a meaningful look. When he glances at me, I hold gazes with him for a while before giving in to the temptation to lift an eyebrow at him. House is moving his lips and making faces in the process, while thinking through the options he has. No one speaks; we are all waiting for the boss’ decision.

“Alright. What’s your theory?”

My face lights up at his question—this means he officially accepted to take the officer’s case. I try to stifle my giddiness as I launch into my explanation, “It obviously has something to do with his brain. Most likely it was caused by Multiple Sclerosis or a tumor in his brain. I was planning to give him a CT and lumbar puncture.” House nods okay, and motions in the general direction of the glass door with his cane.

“Nice. Good for us, not good for the patient. Go ahead,” he says. I’m standing before he could even finish his sentence, and after closing the officer’s file on the table and picking it up, I head to the door with the folder clutched to my chest. However, before I’d leave the office, House warns, “If you’re wrong, you’re fired.”

The travel in the elevator seems suffocating after House’s threat. Cuddy has told him he’s not in the position to decide whether I stay or go, but I know him, and I’m definitely convinced that if he doesn’t want me to work on a case, he can sabotage my attempts to take part in it in any way.

Just to make sure, I quickly check the officer’s name once more when I arrive to the floor he’s housed on, then walk to his room, weaving my way through the few visitors and haphazard doctors. Upon entering, the man looks at me, and I give him a small smile in return, hoping he isn’t so worked up like he was yesterday.

“Derek Hale?” I ask politely, approaching the bed he’s laying on, now dressed in just a flimsy pale green outfit that the hospital’s patients are given. My eyes take a momentary glance at the monitor to see his ECG diagram.

“That’s me,” he answers. His voice conveys no distress, no anger, just resignation, like he’s surrendered to medicine. His eyes slip down to my ID then, tilting his head just the tiniest bit to align it with the angle of the card, eyes squinting to try and read my name.

“y/n Lockwood,” I introduce myself, for some reason feeling tempted to stick my hand out for him to shake. This is how it’s appropriate, right? He takes my hand in his—I’ve always known my hands are small, but the way his broad palm and long fingers wrap around it, makes it look even more insignificant in size. He gives me a firm squeeze, which I return, then we let go of each other. “I need to do a few tests on you,” I announce then, picking up his chart from the end of the bed, and pulling the pen out of the pocket over my chest, clicking it and writing on his paper the tests that are going to be done on him.

“What tests?” he asks curtly, crossing his impressively muscled arms in subconscious defence. I hang the chart back on the bed before walking back to stand next to him. “Just a CT and a lumbar puncture,” I answer. “No worries, the latter sounds worse than it actually is.”

“I’m not a vulnerable eggshell, you know,” Derek comments. For a second, I think he was offended by my statement, think that he took it personally, but the way his eyes twinkle slyly, I realise he’s just asserting his masculinity a little sarcastically. Once more, I reach out for him to help him move, but he dismisses it with a shake of his head. Throwing the blanket to the side, and turning to let his legs hang from the side of the bed, he adds, “I was just shot. I can walk by myself.”

I nod slowly, suddenly feeling embarrassed for some reason. My voice is a near squeak when I say, “Right. Follow me then, please.”

I wait while he puts his robe on to cover more of his body—the green outfit is short, like the patient is merely wearing an oversized T-shirt, and the V-neck of it leaves nothing to my imagination regarding Derek’s pectorals, collar bones and strong shoulders. He slips into his slippers, then we take off to the CT machine first.

. o O o .

“There is no tumor in his brain,” I inform the Team about the results of the CT. House gives me a look and narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. The only reason this makes me feel worse than usual is because this time he isn’t the only one standing in front of the rest of the Team—I’m there beside him, too. To relieve the tension a bit, I hold on to the folder in my hands for dear life, fingers gripping it just a touch stronger than a moment ago.

“You’re too calm,” he assesses. “Too calm for someone who was told could be fired if not everything goes smoothly. So I assume there’s more to it.”

I do my best to tamper down the smugness that’s bubbling up in my throat as I hand him over the paper with the results of the lumbar puncture. “As you can see, the amount of his proteins and leukocytes are increased.”

Chase’s head perks up from where he was playing with his pen until now, “That means encephalitis.”

“Told you it was something,” I say pointedly to House, who just looks at me in return. I suppose the knowing smirk on my face wasn’t overlooked by his insightful blue eyes, because he quips, “Come on, don’t be so happy about someone having an encephalitis. What kind of doctor are you? Sociopathic?”

I’m fast to react. “What if I told you I was?” I ask challengingly.

“The million dollar question is, what would you do upon hearing my answer, in case you’re actually a sociopath.”

“How about letting me know your answer and see where it goes?” I offer. The lightest, vaguest hint of a smile on his thin lips lights up House’s worn-out features. He tells me, “Go and give him antivirals. Also, make a test to find out if he has syphilis and check his body for potential marks of a sting from a tick.”

I don’t have to be told twice. I’m already worried about our cop just fine—I’m aware this is going against House’s number two rule here, the ‘don’t get attached to the patient’ rule. The uttermost policy is ‘everybody lies’.

I don’t find Derek in his room, so I have to go look for him. There was a case a couple months ago where we had to play hide and seek with the patient, and it was no fun for us; House was so livid, the Team was nearly snagged for someone getting fired. As for now, I couldn’t tell if my current frustration or my general worry for him is stronger at the moment—I know that if another blackout occurs, I would have to be there immediately. Besides, anything could happen to him while the time’s ticking by with me just searching for him everywhere frantically, even without him fainting.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take me more than a few minutes to find him—sitting on a couch next to the artificial waterfall, a woman on his side, the two of them holding hands. She’s wearing a black skirt suit with matching high-heels, her dark hair put in a neat ballerina bun, giving her a professional appearance. For some reason, it makes me feel utterly small, like she reminds me of the fact that I could never be like her; so strong, so attractive, so stylish. No, I’m just here in my jeans, my flat shoes and a casual shirt, all this adorned by my white labcoat and the ponytail I put my hair in this morning. I guess the clichéd roles—the queen bee and the nerd—will stick to the people for their entire lives. Inhaling deeply, I force a smile on my face before taking off towards them, but a part of Derek’s sentence is enough to stop me in my tracks.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose my job,” comes his quiet voice. The woman strokes his upper arm soothingly, then settles her hand on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze. Her other hand is still resting in her lap, palm facing up, welcoming Derek’s in it to provide him silent comfort.

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” she assures softly. Contrary to what it does to Derek—calming him down and giving him hope—it unsettles me to no end. I’m just about to inform him about the very serious illness that could explain his condition, and now this burden feels even more unbearable than before. “You’ll be just fine. I’m sure in two days you’re going to be chasing criminals again.” No one should be punished with having to tell someone their life is in jeopardy, or how long they have before their disease takes over. No one signs up for shattering dreams, but for healing and saving lives—saving their dreams. My body feels like a cage to me, from which I can’t escape before I’m done with my duty. With the lump huger in my throat, I force my legs to take me to where they are sitting.

“Mr. Hale,” I greet him. My voice comes out as a squeak, despite how hard I’m trying to prevent that. But seeing how his face lights up with the hope the woman gave him? It makes me want to cry, because I know I can’t live up to those expectations.

“Dr. Lockwood,” he nods to me, then motions towards the elegant woman on his side. “This is my elder sister, Laura.” I shake hands with her, but the smile I give her is tight, and I’m sure she noticed it, because her brow twitches shallowly. The grip Laura gives is firm, giving it away to me that she’s a determined person who knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to go for it.

“Did you figure out anything?” she asks, taking her hand back. I’m taken aback by that question—usually, people start with something like, ‘he’s alright, right?’. Clearly she craves effectiveness and results, not beating around the bush. I have to swallow against the dryness in my mouth before I could speak.

“Yes,” I answer. The siblings’ attention is availably doubled at that, and my heart twists painfully in my chest, knowing that what I’m about to say is not what they are expecting to be told. This is why, I give them a meek warning beforehand, “But you won’t be happy with the results.” My voice is ginger, but tight. Even without my eyes dropping lower than their eyes, I can clearly catch the way Laura’s hand closes tighter around Derek’s. I struggle to go on, “According to the lumbar puncture, Mr. Hale’s leukocyte and protein number is higher than normal.”

“What does that mean?” Laura asks instead of Derek, tone calm and measured, but I can sense the underlying vibrating anxiousness. As soon as the words left my mouth, Derek tilted his head forward to look at the ground instead of me, like he can’t bear seeing me. It feels like a punch to the gut. I close my eyes apologetically for a moment, then explain hoarsely, “It means that Mr. Hale has encephalitis.”

This is the point where Laura loses her perfect mask of the sophisticated woman she normally shows to the world—it perishes silently, in the form of a fat teardrop escaping from her eye and rolling down her cheek. On the other hand, Derek handles it exactly how a strong man would do; he even has the capacity to wrap an arm around Laura and pull her close to him to comfort her, even though it should be the other way around. Laura, though, refuses it for being too proud, already wiping away the stray drop from her face, like it’s never made it there. Derek’s face is expressionless, and the fact he isn’t looking at me anymore stabs me in the chest. His green gaze is fixed on Laura, and nothing else.

I decide to leave them, assuming it’s the best thing I could do, but only after muttering an apology, despite I know this isn’t my fault. I shouldn’t let it get to me, and lately I’ve been getting better at it, but this single occasion ruined all my past successes. I go for the medicine I have to give Derek, then to his room to find a nurse undoing the covers on Derek’s bed.

“Erica, what are you doing?” I ask, putting the antiviral on the nightstand beside the bed. She turns to look at me with a smile.

“Changing his covers, if it wasn’t obvious already,” she quips. I can’t force a grin even for a second after what happened between me and the Hale siblings. Erica doesn’t fail to notice my unease, and she inquires, brows furrowing, “Is something wrong?” Setting down the blanket that’s halfway to being freed, she comes up to me, touching my upper arm gently.

“No, nothing,” I lie, asking the first thing that comes to my mind just to change the subject as soon as possible. “Why are you changing those?” I nod in the general direction of the mess Erica has made. She sighs and goes back to resume her work.

“He’s been going a lot to the toilet. Last time he couldn’t make it there, though, so his vomit ended up on the bed,” she replies, grimacing at the story she shared with me. Clearly the stink is bothering her.

I acknowledge her answer with a nod, then I sit down at the bed, now lacking the sheets, to wait for Derek to return, regardless of the aversion I have for that.

. o O o .

In the end, it takes Derek almost an hour to migrate back and to take his place at his now clear, freshly covered bed. He halts at the door upon noticing me, and just watches me with an expressionless stare. The stretching silence is deafening me, especially with the glass walls shutting out every noise, but this time I can’t bring myself to break it. Instead, I opt to do my job to give myself something else to focus on; I place the plastic pocket of antiviral on the hook above the bed and, after Derek laid down, I inject the other end in his vein. To my surprise and relief, he speaks up.

“How bad is my sickness?” I look at him. Derek’s gaze is darted firmly at the ceiling, not at me, making it clear to me he’s still uncomfortable with seeing me. It stings, but at least he’s now talking—I should appreciate all the small victories. His face is still devoid of emotions.

“We’ll have to figure that out with an MRI later, but right now, the priority is to find out what caused the illness in the first place.”

Derek acknowledges my answer with a nod, then closes his eyes—I get the message loud and clear; he’s telling me without words to leave him alone now. I don’t have a reason to protest, so I consent.

. o O o .

I arrive to the restaurant twenty minutes late. Rushing in, I scan the place, searching for my dinner partners. I spot them in one of the hidden corners, at a dimply lit box with a table and four chairs around it. I stride over to them with a wide grin, greeting them and taking my coat off to lay it on the back of the chair.

“Hey, y/n, long time no see.”

“Scott,” I nod, hugging him briefly before wrapping Allison up in my embrace, too. “Sorry for being late,” I say genuinely, sitting down. “My boss likes to give his Team all the work.”

“We know; everyone knows House’s reputation,” Scott waves it off with a hand.

“How are you?” I ask then, turning to Allison. She beams at me with a shining smile.

“The baby’s due on 14th February,” she announces giddily. “I’m perfectly fine, and so is my baby boy. Only two more months to go,” she drops her eyes at her extended belly, reaching up to rub it fondly, delicately. I chuckle.

“So he’s going to be a Valentine’s boy, huh. How do you know if the baby’s going to be a boy, though? You had it checked?” I ask.

“We don’t exactly know. Allison doesn’t want to check it, wants to wait until he’s born, but she’s convinced he’s a boy,” Scott explains.

“That’s cute,” I coo. A waiter comes to me to take my order, and after the brief chat I have with him, I devote my attention to my friends again.

“And how’s your internship at Princeton?” Allison asks. I shrug; honestly I really don’t wish to talk about that right now—I’d just ruin the mood with it, and that’s the last thing I want. I give them a subtle hint, “I don’t think that’s a fitting subject at the moment.” Scott winces and gives me a worried look.

“Did something happen?” I shake my head no, and pick up my napkin to busy myself with something—also to give myself an excuse not to have to look into either of their eyes.

“No,” I respond a little too late for the other two to believe it. Not that the timing would have mattered anyway; they know me all too well since high school.

“Tell us about it,” Allison urges.

“I really don’t think this is the appropriate time to –”

“y/n, don’t expect me to leave my other best friend tonight without talking this over with her,” Scott demands, a serious gleam in his deep, chestnut brown eyes. “Your face gives you away easily, you know, and I can see it’s something that deeply affected you.”

“Oh yeah, how Stiles and Lydia are doing?” I ask, desperately trying to lead the conversation in another direction, shamelessly taking the chance to talk about the other best friend Scott has without a second thought. While Scott is already opening his mouth to tell me about the other couple, Allison cuts in with a sharp, “y/n”.

“Okay, okay, got it,” I cry out, throwing my hands up in surrender. “So we have a new case since yesterday, and after testing the patient, it turned out he has encephalitis. And he’s a cop.” I take a deep breath before going on, “I had to tell him while his elder sister was there, too.”

“Poor baby,” Allison coos, reaching over the table to stroke my hand soothingly. I’m not surprised by her being so touchy-feely, nor the nickname she addressed me by—I blame it on the raging hormones in her body; thanks to them, she’s way more sensitive to emotional distress than an ordinary person, who isn’t carrying a blooming life under their heart. I manage to smile at her, albeit it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“We’re staying here in New Jersey until the baby’s born,” Scott chimes in to whisk the tension away, and the news don’t fail to light up my face.

“Seriously?” I ask, eyes excitedly commuting between the future parents, who just nod at the same time to me with a smile on their faces.

“Yes. And I’m going to attend controls at Princeton-Plainsboro,” Allison says proudly.

“Oh my God,” I chuckle, leaning back on the chair to rest against the back of it. “Give me a call whenever you’re there.”

“Definitely,” she promises. Scott places his hand on her belly to stroke it affectionately. I have never seen such an expression on Scott’s face before—it’s a mixture of responsibility-consciousness, fatherly protection, undying love and slight possessiveness. But above all, it’s meek.

Scott is now officially a grown-up man.

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