#part of my urge to start a twitch might also be because i wanna learn how to make and rig a little avatar and use cute frames | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minteyeddevil · 3 years

Note

today’s brain rot: belphie being mean to you to push you away bc he doesn’t wanna kill hurt you again & you drunkenly decided to pull him away from the party to show him that you’ve forgiven him by giving him v messy head 🥴

You know why he is doing this to, because you've tried to talk to him about it, and deep down you understood why he did what he did to you. It still stings to think about, and makes your chest ache; but you still want to get close to the youngest brother and show him that he matters to you, if not a little bit more, a little bit deeper to you than his older brothers might.

Words do not fail you, but his distance makes it hard to reach him and speak to him; so you come up with a plan to confront him at Diavolo's birthday party. There he can't fully avoid you since you will be out in the open among all the other demons.

The night of the party, you are dressed up in your best formal attire and get ready to set your plan into motion; but Diavolo's announcement once the celebration begins brings you pause.

They are giving you high praise for being such an amazing student; an amazing being who has done so much for them, showering you in attention and gifts, each brother giving you a kind word and something they find meaning for you.

But the youngest is no where to be found.

Internally you are frowning while smiling and laughing with the older brothers, until you finally manage to slink away and search for this demon. How did he manage to still hide from you even at such a large event? You feel the frustration shuttering at your back, until you find him, hiding out near a gazebo outside the castle garden.

You slowly approach him, worried that if he sees you he might try and bolt; you want him to be near you for once, so he can hear what you have to say. To your expectation, he freezes the moment he sees you, eyes widened a bit, but you reach out and grip the sleeve of his coat, urging him to stay.

"No, please Belphegor, I need you to hear me out."

You notice him hesitate, the slightest tug to your grip on his clothes; but he stays.

You take a deep breath to steady and gather the right words in your mind before you begin to speak.

"I understand why you are avoiding me. I even understand why you...did what you did to me. The hurt that you feel over losing your sister, and the pain you had to endure learning the truth this way..."

You can see he is looking at you through his peripherals, dark bangs hiding his eyes slightly. His silence in response urges you to continue.

"But Belphie...I forgive you for it. I may not forget; it caused me, and even your brothers, a lot of pain. But we are working to bridge this gap, together. And I want you to know that I care very deeply about you. I...I want to be close with you. If you'll allow me in."

He finally turns to look at you directly, and you see him visibly swallow as he is trying to figure out what he wants to finally say to you.

"I see how close my brothers are to you, and to be honest, part of me is jealous of it. But I figured it was safer for me to keep my distance with what I had done."

He looks away again, this time staring out at the garden, but his eyes look distant.

"I want to be just as close as they are to you...if not more so. That's why, when Lucifer told us to get gifts for Diavolo, but also for you, I decided that my gift for you would be," his eyes lock with yours now "...well, me."

You blink a few times, the words settling in your mind as they register. "You're...giving yourself as a gift to me?"

"Yes. I figured, the best way to make up for what I did, would be to give myself over to you. I'll protect you, and make sure no one ever hurts you in any way, shape, or form. Especially in the way that I hurt you."

He takes your hands in his own this time, and gives them a light squeeze.

"Make a pact with me, MC. Let me be the one to protect you from now on. And I'll be at your side as long as you let me."

You search his eyes, his features, for any sign of doubt; and when you find none, you give him a smile, squeezing his hands in return.

*Yes, Belphegor. I accept this pact with you."

A dark purple hue spreads from your connected hands as the pact seals, and you feel a slight searing to your skin where his mark has formed. You shutter at the sensation, still not used to burn of each pact mark; but continue to smile warmly at him.

He finally gives you a smile of his own, and you feel your heart swell so much it takes your breath away. Before you realize it, you are leaning in, your lips pressing gently to his own.

You feel him stiffen for the slightest moment, before melting into the kiss and sighing. You move closer to him, chest now pressing to chest as you continue to kiss, his arms slowly snaking around your waist. You aren't sure how long you two have been kissing before finally coming up for air, both panting.

"Well I wasn't expecting that," he mumbled with a chuckle, nose brushing against your own. You laugh in return, pecking his lips before crawling down his lap and kneeling in front of him. He gives you a quizzical look before his breath hitches as you palm the slight tent forming in his baggy pants.

"W-wait! You don't have--would you really--I mean--!"

Belphegor, stuttering? How cute.

"I want to," you reassure him as you nuzzle against him, and before he can protest further, you begin undoing the front of his pants, making him keen as you take his hardening cock in your hands.

"You're my demon now, right? Let me make you feel good, then."

You press your lips to his tip in a light kiss, before giving the slit kitten licks, feeling him twitch in your hand at the attention. You take the head into your mouth and give a tentative suck, reveling in the gasp he gives and the slightest roll of his hips. You take more of him in than, as far as he can go down your throat, a moan leaving you when your nose brushes his pubic bone.

His fingers bury in your hair, grip tight as he bites his lip looking down at you. His tail slashes about behind him, and he tries his hardest not to just start fucking your mouth right there.

You take your time sucking him, dragging your teeth along the underside of his cock and tease the vein along the side with your tongue. You feel him getting harder and twitch more as you begin to bob your head faster, fingernails digging into the exposed flesh of his thighs.

"M-MC," he groans, his own fingernails scraping your scalp and making you shutter as your pace speeds up further, bits of your own saliva dripping down your chin as his tip leaks more and more precum.

His slight moans get louder and louder as he feels his peak rushing towards him, your name tumbling from his lips as well when he finally reaches it, your face pressed flush against his pelvis as he cums down your throat.

You swallow greedily, your own moans leaving you as you feel him pulse in your mouth until he begins to soften, and loosens his grip in your hair.

He pulls you back up into his lap, pressing his lips roughly to your damp ones, kissing you over and over until you see stars behind your closed eyelids.

"So I'm one hundred percent yours now, huh?" he teases he finally pulls away to allow you air.

You nod almost dreamily as he pulls you tighter against his chest, nuzzling your cheek and humming in content.

"It feels kind of unfair to get all the attention, especially when you're the guest of honor. So, let me show you how special you are to me in return."

---

So this hurt to write but the brain rot got me so hard I had to. Now to go take more meds and lie my happy ass down, lol

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me nsft #belphegor #mini fic #gn!mc #toad-screams

213 notes · View notes

calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?”

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

STTC TAG TEAM: @matchesarelit @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @gia-25 @laurakirsten0502 @ruined-by-destiel @sunflowersandotherthings @acertainhero @440mxs-wife @thatdisasteromni @spnjediavenger @justagirlinafandomworld @moostress19 @sweetjedi @stunudo

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmywaywardbucky @swiftlymoniquesblog @moosewinchester @sams-sass @thinkinghardhardlythinking @jotink78 @winifrede @writingforthelonelysoul @turtletaylor98 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @peridottea91 @tvdspngirl314 @idreamofplaid @samsgirl2020 @katwed

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #spnfluffbingo2021 #allyswritingevent #protective!sam #huffy!sam #sam winchester x you #sam x y/n #sam winchester x female!reader #sam x female!reader #supernatural x reader #sam winchester fluff #spn #fanfiction #mini series #sttc #my writing #text

251 notes · View notes

internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Monster Monster

I wholeheartedly blame this pic for the existence of this fic. I just wanna hug him and ruffle his hair.

Summary: Parent Teacher Conferences are very scandalous.

a/n: This is actually one of my few fics where reading some of my previous fics will help. I highly recommend reading Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries to get a better feel on Dick and Reader’s relationship but anything on the Dick Grayson masterlist works too. Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @americasmarauders for proofreading. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @batarella for help with the ending.

warnings: A slur is mentioned but it gets shut down. Also, swearing.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“Tt, stop staring at me.”

You bite back a smile and what was probably a laugh rising in your throat. “Hmmm, no.” You hum, carding your fingers through Damian’s curls. The corners of your mouth twitch into a frown when you feel an angry bump against your fingers. It’s dry and there seems to be no break in the skin as far as you could tell. You let a little sigh of relief escape you which has the unintended consequence of upsetting the gremlin in front of you.

Damian attempts to swat your hand away, snarling as he did. You grin at him, all sharp teeth and pettiness. You, being childish, do not take your hand away and instead ruffle his hair more. An adorably petulant pout settles on Damian’s mouth making the kid look ten-years-old for once. It takes everything in you not to squeal in delight.

“Unhand me. I do not require your mothering and you would do very well to leave the scolding to Richard or Pennyworth.” You can easily picture Alfred scolding Damian but Dick? You try to picture Dick, hand on his hip, trying his damndest to be mean to the kid but you just couldn’t. Sure, Nightwing can be terrifying, even Batman but Dick? Especially with a kid? Not even feasible. You snort openly, the noise echoing in the deadly silent room. The woman on the other side of the room sitting next to a boy with a faceful of bruises and probably a couple of chipped teeth glares at you. Specifically, the woman scowls at your arm, skin festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. You fight the urge to stick your tongue out at her. Instead, you tug a bit at your sleeves, baring the golden lines streaked with old gashes. A low humorless laugh escapes you causing her scowl to deepen.

Damian follows your line of sight. His face folds in utter contempt. The boy next to her flinches. Their size difference made this all the funnier. “[What did he do?]” you ask in what you hope are the correct words in Arabic. Damian crosses his arms not meeting your gaze. His leg kicks out, the restlessness thrumming in his bones. “[Your accent is atrocious.]”

Your mouth twitches uncontrollably, edging into a fond smile. You tamp it down with a click of your tongue lest the little demon tear your head off. “[I’m out of practice, child,]” Damian grabs at a space beside him only for his hand to close on nothing. Something inside you dies when you stop yourself from cackling. Thank goodness, Bruce has--had--the good sense to take the kid’s katana away.

“[Anyway, what did he do?]”

“[How are you so sure he did something?]”

“[Because you’re a brat but not stupid. You are by far the most annoyingly reasonable child I have had the displeasure of conversing with.]” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. It seems the assumed hatred was mutual. You watch as he folds his face back into a glower, not quite fast enough to evade your attention but certainly fast enough to fool the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, you’re used to the acrobatics of faces, the chaotic cacophony of microexpression. Most people in your life are, after all, awful at broadcasting their feelings even when it was sorely needed. This is probably why you gravitated to Dick so easily. The man believed in openness, in communication.

Distantly, you can hear the woman across from you tap her foot impatiently against the carpet. A flick of your eye tells you she was sneering at both of you likely eavesdropping (and failing) on your conversation. Why she needs to know what you and a ten-year-old with a stick up his ass were talking about you weren’t sure. Damian turns his head slightly towards you, angling his chin upward to mask the uncertainty in his posture. “[If you must know, he-]”

“Gypsies”

The syllables ring like a loud staccato of gunshots despite how quietly she’d hissed it. You freeze. You can feel Damian stiffen right beside you. Understanding flowed into you molten and bubbling. You feel your throat itch, unkind words coalescing into a lump in your throat. You turn your body to Damian who was now still but you can feel the anger wicking off him. You sling your arm over the head of the chair behind him drawing his attention back to you.

He arches a brow at you, challenging. The expression falters when the next few words leave your mouth.

“[You’re off the hook.]”

Principal Jameson is a nasally man. It isn’t his anything to do with his voice. Though, you would be remiss to say that his voice was pleasant. You’re actually half tempted to turn your bad ear on him, block out the words coming from him but that would negate the point of you coming here. His voice isn’t that unpleasant but his entire demeanor rubbed you the wrong way. You’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone than this man. Then again, this might just be a by-product of your presence. Dick, and several other batbrats, have helpfully informed you that you were in fact pants pissing scary to civilians. You would like to say you couldn’t see it but standing in front of this man it was clear as day.

“Y/n L/n,” you offer congenially. His shoulders ease a fraction but did not offer you a hand. You smother a sigh before offering an additional “I believe Mr.Grayson-Wayne had informed you that I would be coming in his stead to discuss this-” Shit show, your mind supplies but thankfully, your mouth was quick enough to bite it back. “- incident.” Beside you Damian scoffed. You stop yourself from kicking the kid because that really would not do.

“Yes, well, Ma’am your-” Jameson halts frankly unsure of your relationship to Damian because of course, Dick would leave the leg work to your socially allergic ass. You make a mental note to kick him later. “- charge.” you supply, feeling a modicum of sympathy for the drowning man.Your eyes flick to Damian. His face is impassive, ire still directed at the thirteen-year-old sniveling behind his mother. The term is too cold for your taste but as of right now that’s all you were. Maybe you’ve finally found a Robin you wouldn't get attached to.

“Well, ma’am, you see your charge, Damian, he’s punched another student and has yet to even apologize. He even started a full on brawl.”

“Mhmm, I see,” you drawl tilting your head. You feel Damian stiffen at the ease of your response. You don’t have to look at his face to know that he was glaring at you with something in his eyes withering from the betrayal. The woman across from nods agreeably as if you had said something sensible. Jameson for his part nearly sighs with relief. You click your teeth a little irritable from their responses but more fascinated than anything. ‘I see’ is barely an answer but they each filled in the gaps with their own assumptions. “And has that young man over there apologized for what he said to Damian? Or for the lump on Damian’s head? Surely, you sent Damian to the clinic as well.” you voice out looking as scandalized as possible.

The room froze.

Your eyes will probably roll into the back of your head before your meeting is done. Judging from Jameson’s posture, they didn’t. They should have at least checked if the kid had a concussion. A familiar sort of ire rose in you. Oh boy, you’re going to have a field day with these people. You sigh in exasperation before continuing. “Not only did you neglect to send him to the clinic to check on the lump on his head, but you were also planning to let the other boy off the hook?” you accuse, voice rising with some effort. Your voice has a tendency to draw low when your temper is flaring. It’s an intimidation tactic you'd learned from a while ago. It would probably be ill advised to use it on a man who looked like he was a second away from a heart attack.

Jameson leans forward, reaching out appeasingly.“Ma’am, we-”

“From what I recall, Gotham Academy has a strict zero tolerance policy on derogatory language, does it not?” You cut him off, voice suddenly vicious. You shift your body in front of Damian putting yourself between him and everyone else in the room. He bristles at the gesture but you and your habits aren’t exactly concerned with his pride.

“Ma’am I-“

“I rest my case. Please, feel free to contact Mr.Grayson-Wayne if you have more to say.” You settle a hand on Damian’s shoulder. You’re surprised he didn’t fight you or swat your hand away. Taking it as permission, you pull him closer to you as you leave the red faced woman and the paling man gob smacked and silent. Damian himself doesn’t make the sound as you made your way down the hall. You squeeze his shoulder gently hoping it comes across as a reassuring gesture. His posture does not loosen but you do not let him stray from you. You close your eyes as the elevator doors shut.

“I did not require your assistance.”

“I know.” Of course, he doesn’t. He is a Robin and an Al Ghul but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna get it. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, the dull beat only serving to irritate your nerves. You swear the traffic in Gotham was somehow infinitely worse than everywhere else in the world even with working traffic lights. Maybe that’s why there were so many crazy people here. Maybe Bruce should have invested his money on better roads. Maybe-

Your eyes slide towards Damian who is somehow shrinking and pressing into the side door. Still, his face is twisted skeptically and braced for a continuation to your statement. You looked heavenward not even hiding the weariness in your smile. The brat is truly a bat-- suspicion and all. You turn your body towards him, opening up your posture. You fold your leg and rest your chin on your arm. Damian meets your gaze head on, looking imperious as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture is artificial, probably uncomfortable from the weight of your attention.

You roll your shoulders and reshape your features, reconfiguring yourself from understanding to teasing. “I know. I know but you see, they needed telling off and your tiny gremlin ass isn’t scary enough. And, I promise I won’t tell Dickolas that you defended him so vehemently.” you wink, a conspiratorial grin spreading across your face. Damian straightens, his body is bowed like he was about to spring for your throat but the shape his limbs took on was more natural and seemingly relaxed. The knot in your shoulder loosens. You reach over and ruffle his hair again. He really is still a kid. You stare each other down. Your smile is as unwavering as his glower.

Both of your stomachs grumble. The sound was loud and abrasive in the closed space of the car. You check your watch and hum, shifting back into your seat. Wordlessly, you switch on your signal light.

You leaf through the pages of the thoroughly used book in your hands, eyes skimming through the blocks of texts not really absorbing any of it. You never really found the appeal in fiction. The stories are too neat compared to what you experienced daily. You suppose there is simplicity in them but you find that in nonfiction, the kind of books that explained the mechanics of things. They made sense of the world and were much more useful in your opinion. You’re much more interested in the messy scribbles on the margins, the etchings of a loud mind on yellowing pages. Jason’s notes were written in the same tone of voice he used when he spoke, deceptively layman but upon further inspection was frighteningly insightful. You smile at the little comments and complaints, the snarky little remarks. Remnants of the little boy he had been before. You frowned. You should probably give this back to him once you have the chance and maybe come up with some excuse of why you still have it. Or you can just keep it.

You look up at Damian who is drumming his fingers impatiently against the lacquered table. His posture is artificially relaxed, likely something he learned from the league or maybe all nervous gremlins do it. You look down at the book again. The sight reminds you of Jay. You tip your head, the loud thunk of your skull is felt more than heard since it was your bad ear that is pressed against the glass. The sound startles Damian who was deep in thought. You hold out the book to him. He must be bored waiting for your order. He pointedly ignores you.

"I don't need that childish drivel." He snipes. You click your teeth feeling a little defensive of the book.

You sound exactly like your grandfather, you think but have enough sense to keep it to yourself. No child needs to be compared to Ra's Al Ghul even if he is a brat.

"Not a fan of-" You look at the book's spine and frown. "-Robert Stevenson?" What kind of dork reads Robert Stevenson for fun? Oh wait, it's the same dork that quotes Shakespeare while bashing heads.

"I have no need for such things."

Of course, he didn’t.

"No, I suppose you don't need anything with the actual text but the margins are quite fascinating." You hold out the book to him again. His eyebrows shoot up looking at you skeptically as he reaches for it. There is no actual written indication that it was Jay's and the kid likely hasn't spent enough time with Jay to actually tell from the way it's written. You look out the window to turn your good ear to him, listening for any reactions he might have. Every now and then you hear a huff of amusement. You smother the smile threatening to form on your lips with your hand.

"Well, the person who owned this certainly had a lot to say." Damian says carefully, handing the book back.

"Jay really was a mouthy kid."

Damian looks at you, little face scrunching up in confusion. You suddenly notice just how easily the booth swallows him up. Why is he so tiny? "If this is Todd's, why do you have it?"

You clasp the book in your hands, your thumb tracing over the creases. "He leant me this book shortly before he died. He-- Well, I told him that I wasn't fond of adventure stories. I prefer books about science and culture. They're much more useful, yanno?" Damian gives a slight nod. You relax into your seat with his understanding. "Well, he thought it was just that I've never read a good one so he gave me this one. Never quite finished it though." you admit a little sheepish after realizing just how sentimental you felt. Your eyes trace over Damian's expression. It's clear that the sentimentality bled through your words and some childish part of you winces at the vulnerability of it. Damian says nothing and doesn't even sneer in derision.

You hum, the tune musical but offkey. “Jason, actually did what you did today awhile ago.” Just like that you begin down a rabbit hole telling the little gremlin about all the stupid shit the older bats have gotten into. And oh boy, there’s a lot.

“So do either of you want to explain what happened and why GAs headmaster called me sounding like he was gonna piss himself?”

“Hmmm, probably not ” you say around your spoonful of mahalabia, not even looking up from your book. Hilariously enough, Damian had also elected to leave Dick’s presence unacknowledged and busy with his own mahalabia. Dick scoot into your side of the booth, purposefully squishing you against the wall with a shiteating grin. He loops his arm around you and pulls you closer, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blanch and push half heartedly at his chest as he laughs. That laugh makes your heart warm and a relenting smile spreads across your features softening them. Your body twitches forward to kiss but you still when Dick freezes instead you plant a kiss on his cheek as well. Dick relaxes at the familiarity of it and you two settle down.

Damian stares at both of you befuddled. A heat creeps up your cheeks realizing that Dick is practically sitting on you. Dick, on the other hand, seems perfectly content with your current lack of personal space, so you leave it alone despite the incredulous look Damian is giving both of you. Dick snatches up your spoon taking a heap from your dessert. You make an offended noise in the back of your throat which he simply answers with another broad smile. Your lip twitches uncontrollably and your shoulders go slack.

“So what happened?”

You and Damian exchange a look. Damian rolls his eyes at you and you shrug at him performatively. “Nothing.” you two say in a chorus of nonchalance. It only succeeds in annoying Dick, so it was partially successful.

Dick pouts taking another bite of your desert. You stare in disbelief as the grownass man sitting next to you attempts to give you the puppy dog eyes as he eats your desert. You sign on exasperation because it's working and the bastard knows it. Richard John Grayson-Wayne is a manipulative asshole and you are a certified sucker.

You turn to Damian pleadingly begging him to please either help you or end you. Instead, he simply looks the two as if searching for an answer to a question forming in his mind. You run your hand over your face ready to concede when something clicks.

"Man-Bat got into GA and Damian fought him off." you say, praying Dick would catch on to the game. For a terrifying moment, he doesn’t. He blinks at you in confusion and your stomach sinks then a smile slowly spreads across his face lighting up every feature. Your heart swells at the sight.

"Bullshit. What was Man-Bat doing in GA?"

"Dunno,maybe bullying students. I don't know what bat creatures get up to." you say grinning. The picture becomes clear from every outlandish story. To your surprise, Damian joins in with a few vague details of his own giving even more details than you'd initially gathered.

Lunch passes pleasantly with outlandish stories and good food.

“NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne, New Face of Wayne Enterprises, Caught in a Torrid Love Affair with a Mystery Woman. Who Could this Exotic Beauty Be?”

“NEWS: Young Wayne Heir Being Extorted by Mystery Woman?”

“NEWS: Wayne Heir with Secret Family?”

Dick wants to evaporate somehow. He stares at the headlines mortified beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe the floor will be merciful and it’ll finally swallow him as Jason reads another headline in a ridiculous newsreel voice.

“No, no wait. This one is fucking priceless!”

“Jason, please, I am begging you. STOP.” Dick whines, his face flattening against his work table. Tim shrugs, an amused smile adorns his face. Dick is going to scream. “Tim, please please please, make him stooop.” Tim ignores Dick in favor of scrolling through his own tablet looking, frankly unsympathetic.

“Oh a tryst!”

“Jason, you are making it sound so much worse.”

“Dunno, big bird, some of these make it sound like you fucked her over a table in the restaurant.” Jason watches in absolute delight as his older brother attempts to merge with the work bench, the tanned skin of his neck and ears burning a bright shade of crimson. Tim snickers, unhelpfully. Dick loved that his younger brothers were getting along for once. He just hated that for some reason they just had to be united against him. “All I did was kiss her on the cheek and eat her food.”

Jason gasps theatrically, feigning fainting. “Premarital kissing?! Dick, how could you? What’s next? Premarital hand holding? Think of the children.” Jason exclaims, dramatically pointing to Damian who at this point had been ignoring the ruckus Jason was causing.

“Jason, you’re awful and you’re being extremely dramatic.”

“Dick, you don’t exactly have any room to talk in that department.”

“Yeah, Mr. Pretty Man Down, Baby Bird has a point.” Jason says smugly as he offers Tim a fist bump which Tim reciprocates by shaking Jason's fist, a joking smile on his face. Jason snorts as if getting the joke or whatever movie reference this was from.

Tim's face folds into a barely held back smile. The laughter bubbling in the back of his throat straining his features. “I will say it is really funny that they didn’t recognize Damian.”

“You know how they are. They probably came up with something like the whole Damian being Bruce’s kid was actually just a cover up for Dick.” Somewhere in the background Damian makes a very displeased noise but Dick can't be bothered to lift his head to check.

“Please no. That doesn’t even-”

“Here’s one, NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne’s Baby Mama? Who is this mysterious woman?” Tim reads out flatly.

“The PR team is going to kill me. No, wait. Y/n is going to kill me first.”

“She won’t. She probably finds this hilarious.”

“How would she even find this funny?”

“Well, she does enjoy your suffering- Oh shit. This one might piss her off.” Jason clears his throat, sliding back into the newsreel voice. “DICK GRAYSON, HANDSOME PLAYBOY - WITH YET ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND - WILL HE EVER SETTLE DOWN?”

Dick is half tempted to throw his own tablet at the wall. What did he do to deserve this? You certainly don’t.

“Hey, at least, they called you handsome.” Tim laughs placatingly. It doesn’t work, of course.

Dick looks up at his little brother ruefully. “Oh yeah because the stuff about my looks was definitely the issue.”

“Well considering your morning routine...”

“I haven’t even been on a date so who are these other girlfriends?!”

“Well, me and Jason thought the same thing.” Tim shoots down sneering. When did his sweet baby brother turn to the dark side? Likely, Jason’s influence but deep down he knows Tim has always been capable of evil. Jason is cackling proudly.

“I don't see why you're concerning yourself with this drivel.” Damian says, swiping the tablet right in front of Dick forcing him to look up. Dick smiles at him wearily. “Dami, it’s a little hard when a photo of me kissing y/n on the cheek is plastered everywhere with weird headlines.” Damian tilts his head considering it but he shakes his head muttering something about pointlessness.

“Goddammit, Disco Stick!” The sound of your voice ringing out into the bunker sends their banter crashing to a halt. Dick feels his heart jump to his throat. He-- This was how he was going to die and for once he wasn’t sure he deserved it or not. You stand at the doorway haloed in bright light. At least, his angel of death would be the prettiest one, he thinks-- all the oxygen leaving his lungs.

Crumpled in your fist was a newspaper. Dick can feel his brothers take a step back as you draw near. Your footfalls were as steady as a pulse which made Dick’s own heart rate ratchet up. Your face is carefully impassive the way it always is when your anger was dosed with something else. Dick is sincerely hoping Jason is right about you being amused by the headlines.

You stop in front of him, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. You glower down at him frankly looking murderous before you snort and your face breaks into a smile. The thick tension in the air dissipates and the room releases its collective breath. The smile on your face grows even brighter. Nope, this is how Dick dies, his breath catching in his lungs as his mind fizzes out from the sight of your smile.

“I’m sorry?” Dick lifts himself off the table just barely, still bracing for any sudden wave of anger that will, justifiably, roll over you at some point.

You lean your body on to the spot next to him, letting the table support your weight. Straightening the newspaper in your hands, you frown. “I look terrible in this.”

“You look beautiful.” Dick blurts out. You raise your brow at him incredulously. Jason folds over trying to hold back laughter, his shoulders trembling. Tim just shrinks from second hand embarrassment.

“No, she is correct. She looks repulsive.” Damian says flatly as he snatches the paper from you.

You let out a breathy laugh. “To be fair, anyone would look repulsive next to professional pretty boy Dickie Wayne.” There was no sharpness in your teasing. You look at the photo over Damian’s shoulder. It was a cute photo actually. Dick’s arm loops around your shoulder as he gives you a kiss on your cheek as Damian blanches at Dick’s very public display of affection. It was hilariously easy to see where they got the idea that you two were a couple. You weren’t. You haven’t been for awhile. The thought wrenches something a dull ache inside you. You flatten your lips preventing the edges from dipping into a frown.

A look crosses between Jason and Tim. Tim leans over, asking in a hushed whisper, “I thought they were back together.”

“Dunno they act like it.” Jason shrugs watching your movement. As if to prove his point, you and Dick lean into each other’s space as you bicker about the merits of Gothamite photographers. Jason is half tempted to shove you two together.

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, finally leaning away from Dick.

“Nothing-”

“They were pondering the state of your relationship. I myself have been pondering it.”

For a moment, your eyes meet. For a moment, you are back in a drab hotel in Moscow. For a moment, you are crying your heart out in his arms trying to push him away.

You click your teeth and stare Damian in the eyes not entirely sure what kind of emotions they were betraying. “We were a thing.” Damian’s brow shoots up. You hear someone’s hand slap against their forehead.

You flush wanting to disappear but hold your stance. You hear Dick chuckle beside you as he stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Something in you eases with the closeness, like a gap being filled. “We used to be a couple.” Dick supplies, saving you from your flailing. You tap your finger against the back of his hand as a silent thank you. He taps yours twice in reciprocation. You look down trying to hide a smile.

Jason and Tim look at each other again and nod.

“We should probably go.” Jason says carrying Damian under his arm.

“Todd, unhand me! We are not done here!”

“We’ll see you two later.” Tim waves giving Dick a knowing smile. Dick’s heart jumps up to his throat while his stomach drops to the floor. Is this really the time for his brother’s to play cupid?

You lean in, letting your body press into Dick’s side as you listen to their footsteps fade away. Your head settling on his shoulder hand bracing you against the workbench. You let the stillness settle and make everything around you more solid.

Dick shifts a bit, his fingers lacing in with yours. The gesture makes your heart twinge, the chasm in your chest yawning with longing. You swallow. The air is thick with unspoken words like smoke clogging up your lungs. You think that if you could just pluck the right one out of thin air, you could clear the air.

‘I love you’ itches in the back of your throat but what right did you have to say that to him even after all this time.

Beside you, Dick is smiling and relishing your presence. The silver glint of your earring winking at him from beneath your hair. He had gotten you that on your first date, a little souvenir you got to commemorate the occasion.

Dick pivots in front of you making your breath catch. His free hand brushing your hair behind your ear revealing the silver robin on your ear. Silver robins. You had at the time laughed at the absurdity of it but here they were years later. Dick’s hands settle on either side of you boxing you in against the table. Even when he’s got you trapped like this, you feel at ease knowing Dick would never hurt you. Dick leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours. Your pulse is loud in your ears. You lean your forehead against his, eyes sliding close soaking up the contact.

“It’s always been you.” Dick says breathlessly. The words do not register, too dreamlike in their conception. You always hoped and wished that you could take it back, that you had never left, that he would love you the same way he did before but you were never foolish enough to hold on to things like that with both hands. Yet here Dick was whispering things that you only let yourself dream of.

“It’s always been you.” He repeats as if the repetition could make it more real. You swallow the lump in your throat trying to find your voice but you’re afraid that once you speak, the room would catch fire and the dream would dissolve into harsh reality.

Dick gently cups your face and for a moment you let yourself be lost in the sea of blue. The stinging in your eyes makes you blink even if you don’t want to. You lick your lips as if somewhere on them were the right words.

You can’t even fathom the combination of words that could encapsulate the cocktail of longing and love you felt for him.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip as your eyes focus on his lips. You swallow again your throat feeling thick even as you lean into his space, pushing off the work bench. Your nose rubbing against his, his long lashes fluttering against your cheek and tickling your skin. Dick leans in, his lips on yours, the pressure barely enough to make contact. You twitch forward, lips melting against his. The world around you stills and disintegrates leaving only him in its wake.

The kiss is all tender softness, a promise of love and loyalty quietly exchanged between you. A delicate push and pull. Undemanding yet uncompromising in its gentle intensity.

You both pull back, only barely. Your skins still thrum with hunger for contact. Dick leans in again, his lips brushing against yours making them tingle at the sensation. Murmured breaths exchanged between you. This time you both find the right words.

Dick turning to reader seeing the familiar glint of her earing

“I still love you.”

--------------------

I was thinking it was just them in the cave standing next to each others fingers twining with each other leaning into each other's space

he brushes the strands of her hair away

After brushing her hair away he presses his forehead against hers and he just kind of comes out with it

like he'd been holding back on saying it but couldn't anymore

Why not have the reader do something like this?

What if she nudges her nose against his? Or rubs her nose against his, like an Eskimo kiss? And it’s silent, her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. They say in Inuit, when you feel eyelashes stroke on your skin like that, it’s a way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it.

And maybe Dick knows that? Without her actually saying the words and he just smiled and captures her lips in a delicate kiss. And when they pull back, they both say it at the same time against each other’s lip, all hushed and murmured?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #Damian Wayne #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #dc x reader #dc reader insert #merc!reader

528 notes · View notes

mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Text

No, this is

A/N: Talk about record timing. Can’t believe I got this out in one go. This is the last part of the three part Sero fanfic series. No more angst. Y’all got lucky with this one ;)

Sorry for the mushiness. You and Sero are simps™️. It was kind of ugly. However, it couldn’t be helped.

I had fun writing this. I hope you had fun too. Enjoy 🖤

Pairing: Sero X Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, not graphic but heavily implied under-aged sex that teenagers don’t do (hope you noted the sarcasm), and fluffiness!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

No, this is

It was 24 days post-breakup. You were doing better. Much better. There were still days when the tears would burn, but it was nothing crippling. Not like it used to be. Besides, between training and your academics, you didn’t have time to mope around. You might be heartbroken, but you weren’t going deter your life because of it.

You sat on your couch, studying for your Calculus test the next day. The busy work had been down to a minimal, so you had more time to study for exams. For now, you were reviewing everything you and Momo had reviewed during the evening.

Then your phone buzzed.

You squinted as you read the name, assuring yourself you weren’t seeing wrong.

It was Sero.

It had been over three weeks since you received a text from him. And vice-versa. You almost forgot his contact was in your phone. Hagakure had said texting him in a moment of weakness would mean double heartache for you. So, you made yourself suppress any urges to text him.

There was a voice inside your head to ignore the message. It was only recently that you had been okay with seeing him on a daily basis. And the class dynamic was going back to normal. You didn’t want to ruin it again—

He double—no—triple texted.

Maybe you shouldn’t have opened it as quickly as you did.

Sero: Hey, how are you doing?

Sero:

Okay, that was probably weird. I’m sorry for texting you after all this time. I know I’m probably the last person you want on your phone so, I’ll make these next few paragraphs as quick as possible

Sero:

At first, I thought time apart would be good for us. 24 hours after, I was a mess, but seeing you smile and laugh…I thought I could suck it up and move on if you were too. Three weeks in, and I’m going crazy not being able to talk to you. I know it’s almost been a month and I am every bit of a coward for only now growing the balls to finally reach out to you, but I need you to know this. I didn’t want to break-up. I never did. I only said that because I was angry, defensive and I wanted to hurt you. It was in the heat of the moment, but that’s no excuse. I was being a dick. I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to be condescending. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I never mean to make you feel like I don’t have time for you.

Sero: I would spend every waking moment with you if I could, but it’s just been a bit overwhelming lately with school. Something I know you can relate to and I’m sorry was acting like I was alone in that. I feel like such an asshole for letting you go. You’re worth fighting for, Y/N. These past 18 months have been so amazing and I’m not ready to let that go. I never want to. I want to be by your side through thick and thin. I’m sorry for not showing you that as of late, but I swear it still holds true

Sero: Long story short, I’m willing to fix this if you want to. I want to talk. Face to face. If you don’t want to get back together, I understand. I will respect your decision no matter what. I just want to make sure both of us lay our issues on the table so, at the very least, we get closure and, hopefully, stay friends. Know that you will always have me as your biggest supporter, even if it’s not in the way I want to be

Sero: I love you, Y/N. Now and forever. I’m so sorry I ever hurt you

He watched the dots in the chat bubble bounce, on and off, for 30 minutes.

You: Hey

Sero: Hey

You: Apology accepted. Thank you for reaching out and I didn’t mean to leave you on read. I just had to type up my corny paragraph in notes before I sent it to you. You know how I get

Sero: Of course. And even if you did mean to, I would deserve it

Sero: And I’m all ears…or eyes?

You laughed at that. Even after all this time, he was still cracking jokes.

You: I thought I could make peace with what happened that night. It was so hard going to bed, knowing we had fought and not making up. But you looked like you were moving on and I didn’t want you to pity me. So, I chose to move on to. Or, at least I tried to.

You; The truth is, I never wanted to break-up with you. I don’t even know why I ever suggested the idea. I was mad and I just started rambling, finding whatever I could say to hurt you like I was hurting. I’m sorry for that. It makes me feel happy that you feel the same way. When I heard you agree with me, I felt like I could’ve died right there. I thought ‘I just helped him get rid of myself.’ I felt like the biggest idiot for ruining our relationship. Thank you for apologizing, but I also have things to apologize for.

You: I’m sorry for storming in your room with an attitude. I’m sorry for being a hypocrite and getting angry with you whenever you had schoolwork. That’s important and I was being a jerk. When I confronted you, I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that either. I haven’t loved anyone like I love you, Sero. Losing you broke my heart in ways I didn’t think were possible. 18 months isn’t enough time. I probably sound selfish, but I want more. With you. Only you. I want to talk it out. I know we can fix this. I want to so badly because I love you too much to let you go

You: I’m so sorry for hurting you

Sero: apology accepted. not to be annoying, but you don’t know how happy I am rn. i’d kiss you if i could

You: simp

You: talk tonight?

Sero: look who’s talking

Sero: and as much as I want to, you have the calculus test tomorrow, don’t you? I want you to get all the study time you can

Sero: tomorrow night?

You: no, you have tutoring for the Japanese Lit exam Friday. I know how hard you’ve been working in that class, so I want you to put all your energy on that

You: we can talk after school Friday?

Sero: okay, sounds good

You: okay

You: thank you for not giving up on me

Sero: never

Sero: I love you, baby. I’m sorry again

You: I know. I love you more

Sero: impossible

…

The next day, your classmates were very confused to see the two of you walk into homeroom together. They gaped as you laughed at a joke he cracked.

After nearly a month of ignoring one another, you two were suddenly keke-ing it up? What?

Your friends wanted answers. So, you were forced to tell them after class. Most of them were happy the two of you would talk it out. They respected your split but missed how happy you two when you were together. It just made sense.

Mina and Bakugo said they would only be happy if the talk went well. Bless their hearts.

On Friday night, you were just about to text Sero to ask where and when you’d talk. Before you could send the message, a knock on your window made you jump.

“Helloooo~” the perpetrator goofily sung, dangling by his tape.

You rolled your eyes as you opened the window to let him in.

“You scared the shit out of me. I thought you said no more dangling by windows like a stalker?” you teased.

“I did?” he chuckled.

You let him use your shoulder as support as you held his waist and he climbed through the window. Detaching himself from the used tape, he finally stood on his feet, but his arms never left you.

A moment passed between you two as you stared at one another. Sero only looked at your smile for three seconds before he took your lips with his own. Your hands threaded through his hair as his cupped your cheeks, squeezing out all the space between you.

The kiss was firm, desperate, and it kind of hurt; but it was everything you two needed at that moment. It was a crash course of the 28 days you spent apart. The feeling of your lips pressed against his was arresting. You couldn’t think. All you could do was relish in the feeling of relief. Relief that you were re-learning that he tasted like warm cinnamon and spice.

It was oxygen that separated you two. You kissed one of his hands on your cheeks and Sero connected your foreheads.

“I missed you,” he whispered, against your lips. “I was an idiot.”

“You were.” You softly kissed him, biting his bottom lip and enjoying the way he groaned. “But I was too. I missed you so much.”

“Forgive me?”

“Only if you’ll forgive me.”

“Always,” he smiled.

You returned it tenfold. “Always,” you repeated.

Then your lips found one another again. This time, you drew impossibley closer. Your arms found purchase around his neck as his hands slid down to your hips. Your tongues explored the warm cavern of the other’s mouth, making up for lost time. You moaned into him and Sero felt his dick twitch. One hand gripped the back of your head, tilting your head so he could have even more access. His other hand gripped your ass, making you whine in need. Just as your hands touched the warm skin on his taut stomach, Sero pulled your head back.

“Fuck—wait, baby,” he panted.

“What?” you hissed, pissed he was interrupting.

Even with his eyes clouded with lust, Sero would always prove to be the rational one in the relationship.

“W-we still have things we need to talk about.”

“Hanta, you walked in here, your hair in a ponytail, and no underwear under your sweatpants. Your grey sweatpants,” you enunciated. “And you wanna talk?”

“W-well, this is important and—” He tried to continue even as you forced yourself onto his neck. He forgot how sensitive he was there. And were you always this good with your tongue? “A-and—shit—I mean, we promised to talk…talk about wh-what weeee neeeed…oooh right there sweetheart—fuck! No!”

He pulled you away again, this time glaring down at you. However, he didn’t manage long from seeing your glistening lips from sucking on his skin. Your eyes glowed in pride at the darkening mark and they flickered upwards, meeting his crumbling resolve. You licked your bottom lip, eyeing him like he was a four-course meal.

You were gonna kill him one day.

“We need to talk about how to improve our relationship,” he gulped.

You quirked an eyebrow but smiled. “How about a deal? We get rid of this,” he curses as you palm his erection. “And then we can spend the night talking, yeah?”

He didn’t even miss a beat.

“Bet.”

His mouth was on yours in an instant. You figure yourselves out between kisses.

“Door?”

“Locked,” you confirmed. “Condoms?”

Sero hissed out another curse. “Shit, no. I didn’t think we’d—”

“Don’t worry about it. I have some in the drawer.” You jump and he effortlessly catches you so your secure on his hips. The adornment in his eyes makes your stomach do flips. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him. You can’t believe you almost let him go.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing you almost impossibly soft.

You return it. “I love you too. Now, make love to me, Sero Hanta.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A third of the night was spent tangled beneath the sheets, letting your bodies explore each other until not a single curve or scar was left untouched. After burning through five condoms, the other third was left for conversation. Vulnerable moments were shared. Some tears were shed, but those intimate truths would forever be treasured. Finally, the remainer of the night was spent asleep, wrapped in the other’s arms. A silent vow floating between your lips that you would never let go.

Because, this truly was better.

#sero x reader #sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #mha x reader #sero fanfic #sero imagine #sero scenariio #bnha x reader #mha x poc!reader #mha x black reader #mha romance #bnha romance #bnha simps #honorable mentions:#bakugo #mina ashido #class 1-a is invested #sero smut but not really #kind of sad this is ending but i'm glad it's on a good note

614 notes · View notes

shingekicornwrites · 4 years

Text

Agricultural Werewolves, pt 2

Fandom/Tags: Hero Academia, alternate universe/werewolves, mentions of past bullying, Counseling, Bakugou Katsuki Faces Consequences, modern fantasy, unreliable narrator, Katsuki is kind of an asshole please don’t take his commentary as my opinion or truth

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Anger Management Counseling, future Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, future Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

pt 1

It’s not that Izuku doesn’t remember Kacchan. He does. He remembers Kacchan really well, because Kacchan was his first friend and was super cool and everything he did was so much better than anything Izuku ever did no matter how hard he tried. It’s hard to forget someone like that. Especially since when he first moved, he talked about Kacchan all the time.

It’s just. He hasn’t so much as seen Kacchan since first grade. No letters. No texts after he finally got his own phone. He knows his mom still talks to Auntie, because Auntie was the one that told them about Kiyashi and got them in contact with the people here, got them their first home set up before Mom was given the hostel, but Kacchan has been…well, a non-entity in all the years since they packed up and left the city behind. He may as well have not existed outside faint memories.

He’s not even sure how to talk to him now.

Kacchan grew up pretty well. He’s bigger, still taller than Izuku is by a few inches. He still screams every word like no one will hear him otherwise. He’s still strong, and he’s got some muscle packed into his arms that shows he’s put in some serious work to stay in shape. Mom also told him some stuff, like how Kacchan has been at the top of his class for years and got accepted into a really nice school. Which matches up to all the memories just fine, Kacchan is still just as amazing as he was when they were little…

It only takes a few days for Izuku to kind of...want to wring his neck.

Like really bad.

Really bad.

“Kacchan, can you check on the chickens?” Izuku asks one morning, only a few days after Kacchan’s arrival. School doesn’t start until Monday and he’s spending most of his spare days at work with Gran, getting extra money. The return to after school hours is always a hit to his paycheck and he’s trying to savor every spare yen he can.

“No,” Kacchan replies. He stays seated at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and scowling.

Izuku sighs. That’s been the response he’s gotten every morning. He hasn’t told Mom yet, because she’s already so busy getting ready for the heavier tourist season and he doesn’t want to be some kid tattling, but Kacchan isn’t a customer so he really needs to help around the house. “Kacchan—“

“Stop calling me that, Deku.” Katsuki growls. “I’m not your errand boy and I’m not touching your chicken shit-covered eggs!”

He growls even more than Izuku remembers him doing.

When they were little, it meant it was time to bare his neck and stop talking. He remembers that much. He still has the urge to do it, to cower and make him stand down, but it’s...less than it was, before. It’s not a command. He doesn’t flinch like he used to.

If anything, there’s a flare of something in the back of his head telling him to growl back that he has to forcibly tamp down. That’s not normal for him.

“Okay then, no breakfast,” a new voice chimes in, right before Kacchan’s coffee vanishes out of his hand.

“Hitoshi, don’t—“ Izuku tries.

It’s too late. The coffee cup reappears across the room, in the hands of the other permanent boarder. Hitoshi comes into focus like smoke before he drains the cup all at once, which really is impressive since Izuku knows Kacchan takes his coffee blacker than tar, and slams it back down on the table with a wry grin.

“No. If he doesn’t do his chores he doesn’t get to eat,” Hitoshi taunts, before spinning to head for the back door. “I’ll get the eggs, and he can suck my dick if he wants an omelet.”

Izuku blanches. “Hitoshi!”

“Oi, you wanna die!?” Kacchan screams, knocking his chair over when he shoots up to possibly vault the table. Izuku hopes he isn’t going to. The table is an antique, he’s not sure it can take the strain.

“No, I want lazy assholes to do their share, “ Hitoshi sing-songs as he escapes the kitchen to the safety of the chicken houses out back. They can hear the clucking as the hens notice he’s coming.

Any day now the peace will break and they’ll fight. Izuku knows Hitoshi too well to think he’ll give up. He wishes he’d stop, but no matter how many times he tries to tell his kind-of-brother that Kacchan’s just rough around the edges and needs time to get used to things the more Hitoshi has to push his buttons.

Maybe he’d let it go if he wasn’t worried Kacchan would bring the hostel down on top of them just to get Hitoshi’s neck in his jaws.

________________________________________________________________

He’s filling grocery delivery boxes when he breaks. He has to ask somebody.

“Did you have trouble getting along with Yagi, after he grew up?”

Gran doesn’t move, when Izuku asks him this. He remains behind the counter of the store, perched on his stool and flipping through a booklet of tractor parts to fill out some customer’s mail order. He barely gives a signal that he heard Izuku at all. The only hint that he’s about to get an answer is Gran carefully putting his finger down on a row of information before his eyes grow unfocused from the page.

“What’s this about?” Gran asks, in a tone of voice that anyone else might think means he barely cares. Izuku knows different. Gran cares a lot.

He’s just also kind of a dick about caring, so he makes sure no one can tell he does. That’s why he works Izuku to the bone every shift instead of admitting he’s the old man’s favorite employee. The crotchety bastard barely lets anyone work at his general store but Izuku’s been allowed to drive his truck for two years now. That in itself is a miracle.

“Um. We have a new long term boarder. He’s my old friend—have I told you about Kacchan?” Izuku pauses while throwing carrots into one of the boxes.

“Not me, but you told Toshi plenty.” Gran rolls his wrist, motioning for him to get on with it. “I’ve heard some secondhand bits.”

“Right. Uh,” Izuku flushes and gets back to filling. “He’s staying with us now. It...it’s been kind of bad? I don’t know how to talk to him. He just yells at me.”

It’s an understatement, because Kacchan can barely even stay in the same room as him. It hurts, because Izuku has been trying to be as nonthreatening as he can be to make him feel comfortable, but Kacchan just tells him to get the fuck out every time Mom isn’t around.

“Why’s he here?” Gran asks.

Izuku blinks. “Uh…”

Gran heaves a sigh and reaches for the tea he’s left cooling near the register. “Well he’s gotta be here for a reason, boy.”

He knows that. Kacchan has made it clear he doesn’t want to be there, so it’s not really his choice. His mom hasn’t talked much about it but she seems stressed; she’s had a pinched look when she hears Kacchan’s screaming. She’s been making phone calls to the therapist, too...it all comes together to form a picture, but he can’t be certain of what it is without asking questions he’s pretty sure no one wants him to ask.

“I’m not sure,” Izuku admits slowly. “It’s not my place to pry. Mom said it’s pretty serious, and he had to turn down a really nice school to come here, and he’s been so angry that I can’t even really ask—“

“That so?” Gran interrupts. His tone has shifted. He’s serious, now. He watches Izuku like a hawk from the counter and it takes a lot not to hunch his shoulders in shame as he nods.

“...is he growling a lot? Baring his teeth?” Gran asks.

Kacchan growls more than he speaks. He always makes sure his teeth are showing so that Izuku shuts up, so that Izuku leaves, so that he’s left alone to scream and kick things.

“...yeah. Every day,” he admits.

Gran rolls that over in his head, wiping his face with one hand and looking so much older than he already is.

“Shit,” he sighs. “Sounds like he’s a bite risk.”

Izuku’s hand twitches, at that. The scar tissue aches with an old memory he’s mostly forgotten.

“He can’t be,” Izuku mutters, more to himself than to Gran. “He’s always been so in control.”

Kacchan was the first wolf he ever knew. Kacchan taught him so much; how to eat, how to smell, how to deal with the weird way his brain had started to work; he owes a lot to Kacchan’s help when they were little. Kacchan had always had such perfect control of himself. Not like the mess Izuku was. Kacchan never made his family have to move.

Kacchan never had to uproot all their lives so that he could function. If anything, it proved Kacchan was a better wolf as a kid than Izuku was at fifteen.

“You and I both know that isn’t all there is to it.” Gran cuts off his thoughts, bringing him forcibly back to the present. Izuku rubs at his hand and frowns, anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

“It’s just—he already learned once, right?” he tries. “He should know better. He knows what happens. He knows how serious it is. He saw what happened to me, so—”

Gran silences him with a glare. “You can’t speak for him, kid.”

Izuku’s mouth snaps shut, and he slouches. He knows that. He can’t put words in anyone’s mouth.

He just...he really doesn’t want Kacchan to be a bite risk. That’s the kind of thing he could go to jail for. That’s not the kind of person Kacchan is.

Gran watches him, losing some of the sternness in his face, and beckons him forward. Izuku comes with only a mild hesitation toward the cane hanging from the countertop. Gran makes sure their eyes are level and he’s got all of Izuku’s attention before he speaks again, low and serious.

“Toshinori and I had some issues, but that’s because our personalities aren’t that great to each other. At the root of it, he’s afraid of me and I see him as a little snot and not a grown man. But we manage because at the very least, we respect each other,” Gran explains with a patience Izuku hasn’t seen in years. Not since he was a lot younger and deathly afraid of the man. “You’ve got a little snot of your own who’s gotta learn to respect other people. That’s not something you can fix.”

“I—I know he can do better, though—“ Izuku tries, an old admiration at the tip of his tongue that he wishes he could make people understand.

“Maybe he can. But it ain’t your job to get him there. Just stand your ground and don’t let him bulldoze you.”

Izuku breaks and looks at his feet. He doesn’t think he can do nothing. He can’t stand the thought of doing nothing.

“He was my friend. I want to help.”

Gran pats his shoulder with a gentleness that doesn’t match him at all, becoming the anchor keeping Izuku tethered to the present.

“Kid, if you really wanna help him then do exactly what I said. He’s not gonna get any better until he’s told ‘no’.”

Maybe so.

But Izuku, somewhere deep inside, is afraid to be the one who has to tell him.

#My Hero Academia #Boku No Hero Academia #Izuku Midoriya #Katsuki Bakugou #Hero Academia fic #skell writes #agricultural werewolves au

16 notes · View notes

cryoculus · 4 years

Note

More love for Semi please? Anything will do, your writing is exquisite in any form anyway :D

» Word Count: 1,857 wordsCross-posted on AO3

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE :(( I actually wrote three chapters’ worth of content for him already and you can read the whole thing on the ao3 link.(NOTE: This is based on the current events of the final arc of the Haikyuu manga. I tagged it as a spoiler but I won’t really go into the specifics of what’s going on. Semi is our main focus here ^__^)

—

“Please?”

“No,” was your flat reply.

Semi heaved a long sigh, mouth twitching into an irritated grimace. You returned his reaction with a sassy look of your own—one, finely penciled brow quirked as bright, red lips rivalled the adamance that Semi brought about. While you were in no position to tell him to just go back to his cubicle and get today’s work done (you, sadly, held the same position in office), you at least had the right to turn him down. Your department had a monthly financial report coming up. Why on Earth did he want your help writing a song?

“Come on,” he groaned. “You know I’d eat my fist first before asking for your help, but our manager really digs your old pieces from college.”

Your eye twitched.

“Way to beg for someone’s aid in a time of dire need,” you bit back sarcastically. “Go do it then.”

“What?”

“Eat your whole fist.” You gave him a pointed look, even making a show of paying attention by putting your pen down.

Your co-worker let out a frustrated groan, fingers carding through his messy, ashen hair. The gesture made the tattoos on his chest visible for a second, before disappearing again behind his barely done button-up. It was a mystery, how a man like him made it as a public servant—with his flamboyant piercings and tip-dyed hair—but you supposed you should learn to look past physical appearances. The agency allowed it, so why should you make a fuss?

Ah, right. Semi Eita was the most hot-headed man in your department, and he had a knack for picking fights with you.

“If you get the balance sheet done by five o'clock, I might reconsider,” you told him, not really meaning the words, as you directed your attention back at the paperwork on your desk. Balance sheets are the toughest to fill out, since the data needed had to be collated from different sectors of the city. You highly doubted that Semi, with his thinner-than-a-strand-of-hair patience, could finish it in one sitting.

“Deal.”

Your gaze hardened as you looked back up at him. “Come again?”

“Are you deaf?” he asked, folding lean arms across his chest. “I said it’s a deal.”

You couldn’t help the snort that made its way past your lips. Whatever his reasons may be, it was painfully obvious that he was desperate. But still. You knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry out the deed in your given deadline, but instead of talking him out of his own agreement, you merely shook your head in acceptance.

Semi eventually stalked off to his cubicle; the one just in front of yours. There was a divider that separated each employee’s workspace from the others, and it at least granted some semblance of privacy from outside gazes. You’ve been to Semi’s cubicle a couple of times—more to coordinate paperwork than engage in conversation, really—and he decorated his personal space exactly how a part-time rock band vocalist would. Though he didn’t exactly put up posters and painted the walls black, he added his own flair to his desk with guitar figurines, neon stickers on his desktop, and a photo of his bandmates enclosed in a sparkly picture frame.

The only reason you bothered looking so closely was the fact that you also went to the same university together (under the same degree, too!) You’ve always been keen around him, with his loud way of living, as opposed to you, who’s always chosen to live simply and without pretentiousness. Sure, the disparity between your lifestyles had caused you to be at each other’s throats since freshman year, but it was still a surprise that your synergy was top notch. You would, as Semi put it so delicately, eat your fist first before admitting to the fact, but it’s a given that you preferred to work with him instead of other, unfamiliar people.

You sighed, brandishing a bored look at the bleak document in front of you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to help him out…

But when you recalled every time he’s talked over you during board meetings, sneered at you when he got a higher score during exams, and his distateful behavior in general, you steeled your resolve.

Either he’s going to get that balance sheet over with or he’ll keel over. If he wanted your help, he’s going to have to work for it.

—

You were in the middle of fixing your belongings when the sound of a stack of papers hitting your desk rang in your ears.

“There,” Semi said breathlessly, making you look up at him in surprise. He even tossed a flash drive on top of the papers he deposited, where you saw the city hall’s heading printed in full color. You reluctantly checked your phone for the time. 16:57, it said, in a mockingly bold typeface before shoving it in your pocket.

The damn guy really did get it done before five.

“The electronic document is saved in there, in case you lose the print.” He was panting at this point, and you had a vague idea as to why he looked like he just ran a marathon. The one printer in your department (this year’s budget was cut) broke down a few days ago, and the nearest functional one was at the Logistics office three floors down.

Still refusing to believe it, you peered at the documents he just brought in. You scanned each of the entries printed on each page. That’s when you realized that Sendai City’s expenses have skyrocketed since the new year because the list of expenses occupied a whole page alone. A worried sigh made its way past your lips, but at least the liabilities were cut down to a minimum. You heard that the governor of Miyagi was going to pledge a few hundred thousand yen for the city’s founding anniversary, too.

You paused. Blinking, you rearranged the papers neatly back into its pile—biting back the urge to clutch your wounded pride. Semi was looking at you expectantly, like he wanted you to praise his flawless bookkeeping.

In actuality, his determination was beginning to freak you out.

“Why do you want me to help you so badly?” you asked, voice almost trembling. “Seriously, dude. I thought we hated each other. Quit acting out of character.”

“I told you, our manager really liked the songs you composed back in senior year,” he drawled, tired of having to repeat himself.

Your face twisted in confusion. “Who even is this manager of yours?”

There was a half-second delay in his response, but before you could paint a reason for his hesitation, he immediately replied with, “Saito. Saito Makoto.”

You stiffened, gaze going rigid at the mention of that name. “Oh.”

“Yeah. If I manage to give him a piece by the end of the month, he’ll help us sign a contract with a big-shot record label,” Semi explained, oblivious to your discomfort.

“But haven’t you been writing songs since high school?” you wondered aloud. “That’s what you said during our Pol-Gov class ice breaker.”

He frowned. “You still remember that?”

Okay. You kept forgetting that your sharp memory wasn’t always a praiseworthy thing. You gulped, feeling the heat creep up your face. “Um, anyway, the point still stands. You’ve been writing songs for God-knows-how-long, and while I’m not one to dish out compliments especially to you, I’m pretty sure they’re okay if you managed to gather a decent fanbase.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the divider of your cubicle. “We’re a rock band. I write rock songs, but Saito wants me to write a goddamn love song.”

Typical Saito. Though he looked like a rugged high school delinquent, he was awfully sentimental when it came to music. He was the one who inspired you to write the songs Semi was pestering you about all day after all…

“Fine,” you relented. “I never go back on my word and since you did a…good job with this, I’ll help you out.”

His light brown eyes lit up for a moment, but Semi managed to mask his relief in a split second—containing his excitement in a single nod. “Are you free this Saturday? You can come by my place and we could start getting to work.”

Well, that was forward of him. You expected to work on the song in a coffee shop or something, but he went on ahead and invited you to his own humble abode anyway. You parsed through your weekend plans in your mind, and once you confirmed that you were free, you scribbled down your phone number on a sticky note. Almost five years of acquaintance and you’d never bothered giving it to him. Huh.

“Just text me the time and place,” you told him, pocketing the flash drive as you slipped the balance sheet in one of the empty folders in your organizer. “You better not pull anything funny and lead me to a secluded alley or something.”

Semi scoffed, folding the piece of paper and sticking it inside his trousers. “As if.”

You then slung your bag across your shoulders, grinning insincerely. “Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

With that, Semi exited your cubicle, leaving you no room to wonder why he didn’t even spare a quick ‘thank you’.

Just as you were smoothing out the creases on your pencil skirt, your phone began buzzing in the pocket of your blazer. Brows raised, you fished it out and unlocked it.

From: Makohey, wanna grab some dinner? its on me :3

Speak of the devil. You swallowed the lump in your throat, fingers shakily managing to type a coherent reply.

To: MakoYeah sure. Where to tho

From: Makocan we get some italian? ik u love the udon place across the street but akane’s having dinner w her friends there

From: Makocant have her seeing us together now do we

The way he put that so casually made your chest constrict with a too-familiar sensation. You heaved a deep breath, pursing your lips into a thin line as you sent a quick “Ok” text to end your conversation. Saito replied with those iffy heart-eyed emojis that he only ever used when he wanted something from you, and you had to compose yourself so you wouldn’t burst into tears right there.

“Oi.”

You almost jumped at the sound of Semi’s voice as he peered inside your cubicle once more. He clutched his suitcase in one hand, eyeing you curiously.

“What do you want?”

“You’re headed uptown, too, right?” he asked, and you nodded reluctantly. “Thought you’d want a lift.”

“Semi, just because I’m helping you achieve your dreams, doesn’t mean you have to be nice to me.” You laughed softly, tension easing from his uncalled for kindness.

He, however, looked unconvinced. “Do you want a ride or not?”

You raised your hands in defeat, managing a genuine smile. “Alright, fine. It’ll be a hellish commute anyway.”

You liked to think that that’s how you started becoming friends with your odd, hot-headed co-worker.

#haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #shiratorizawa #hqscenario #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu spoilers #hq headcanons #hq!! headcanons

65 notes · View notes

werewolfdays · 4 years

Note

Oooooo how about smile?

[ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room

(this one is some pre relationship pining because I couldn’t resist)

I was browsing through a book at the table, trying to look as casual as possible without fully letting my guard down like Jayde had taught me. The diner had a typical bustle that I was used to in a public place, so I cast my gaze over the crowd of customers every couple of minutes in case my eyes spotted something suspicious that my ears couldn’t pick up on. Everything looked clear to me, but that didn’t mean it was clear. Jayde had years of spotting the subtle signs of a threat under her belt. I was still learning, still worried that I would read some poor stranger wrong and go into panic mode too easily for no reason. Or not read into someone enough and make a fatal mistake.

Jayde trusted my judgement, at least for the handful of minutes she would be gone to secure us a room at the motel across the street from the diner and pitstop. I couldn’t help but think she was testing my skills, throwing me into the deep end to see how I would fare. If that were the case, I certainly didn’t want to let her down, so I remained vigilant and kept a wary gaze on all of the strangers that surrounded me.

Out of nowhere a man sat across from me at the table with a beaming grin that caused my muscles to tense. He looked to be in his late thirties, surprisingly kind looking face, and a trucker hat that had a vulgar phrase and a pinup girl on it. I sat up straighter and adjusted my glasses, preparing for the possible threat that he could be.

“You are too pretty to ignore.” He remarked, flashing his teeth, looking me up and down, and I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, “Can I buy you a beer?”

I smiled politely and apologetically at the invitation, “Oh, sorry, I’m not really in the mood to drink.”

“How about a coffee?” The strange man inquired.

I eyed the steaming mug beside my book, “I don’t need another cup yet, but thank you.”

“That’s cool, I can wait.” He said with a shrug, “You like trucks? I have a brand new Ram fifteen-hundred pickup. Cherry red. Took a lot of hard work to earn her.”

I pursed my lips. It was very doubtful that this man was the type of threat that Jayde had taught me to keep an eye out for, but I still wasn’t sure about his presence. So I forced another polite smile and nodded. I didn’t know the first thing about trucks, but I could play along if it got him to move on quicker, “That sounds pretty cool.”

He perked up hopefully, “You think?”

“Yeah, sure.” I agreed, nodding encouragingly, “I don’t know a lot about trucks, but—”

The stranger cut me off eagerly, “Oh, I can tell you all about them. You have to start with the engine, you see…”

I resorted to smiling and nodding along as this man went into a rant that I knew I wouldn’t be able to interrupt even if I tried. The good news was he didn’t seem to care or notice that I was barely listening to a single word he was saying, only the fear that he might quiz me after dumping all this information kept me slightly engaged. I took the opportunity that his self absorbed ramblings offered me to glance around the diner again for potential threats. Or potential escape.

My eyeline tracked around the restaurant until they landed on the entrance in time to see Jayde enter the establishment. Relief washed over me, surely she would give me a proper excuse to get out of this conversation that had me trapped in a corner. Then her gaze landed on me. I watched her brows furrow in a concerned frown at the look on my face, and when she noticed the stranger at the table, I saw her jaw clench and her eyes burn. The intensity of that reaction puzzled me somewhat. Was she simply worried about him being a threat? Or was it something else?

Could she be… jealous?

I forced that ridiculous thought out of my head. When her eyes locked on mine again, I offered a warm smile to calm that murderous look on her face. I watched as Jayde’s expression slowly softened under my gaze until the corners of her mouth actually began to turn up too. Her smile, reluctant at first, but forming into a genuine and beautiful visage, made my cheeks grow hot in a sudden flush. My reaction only made her grin grow more, becoming even playful as I looked down briefly and tucked some hair behind my ear. She was enjoying my blush, I realized. The fluttering in my stomach turned thrilled.

Maybe it really was jealousy…

Just the possibility made my suspicions about Jayde maybe liking me the same way I liked her that much more plausible, and that was enough to make my cheeks flush even hotter while I held her gaze. I took my bottom lip between my teeth in thought at the prospect, but also to see her reaction. I wasn’t disappointed. Jayde’s face turned to the shade that I was feeling on my own, looking me up and down in a way that caused the heat in my cheeks to flare throughout my body.

The sound of a clearing throat suddenly yanked me out of this trance I was in with Jayde. My head snapped towards the sound, remembering I was in the middle of a conversation. I shook my head at myself and faced the man I had completely forgotten about. “I-I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was talking about the suspension on my truck…” He muttered, searching for whatever had captured my attention so completely.

By the time he got a bead on Jayde, she was already more than halfway over to us. The stranger tracked Jayde’s movement all the way to our table and she fixed him with a glare that almost scared me, so I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be on the receiving end of it. I noted how the strange man instinctively curled into himself a little. She came right over to me, only taking her eyes off the guy long enough to give me a curious once-over, and I was shocked when she placed a gentle hand on my arm. I was caught even more off guard when the thumb on that hand gave me a tender caress, soothing whatever unease I had.

“You okay?” She asked me in a calm tone.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine, Jay.”

“Anyway,” The man said hesitantly, though some bravado came back as he prepared to continue, “Why don’t I show you my truck? I can take you for a ride.” He gave me a smirk and a wink, wagging his eyebrows at me to make sure I understood his deeper meaning.

The disturbing mental image that entered my mind made my entire body internally recoil in disgust, but I still kept my voice as pleasant as possible, “No thank you.”

“Oh, come on.” He urged quietly, glancing at Jayde, then back at me as if to say, You really wanna stay with this one?

“Back off.” Jayde growled so low that I almost didn’t catch what she said.

My unwanted companion did though. He turned his head to scowl at Jayde and bark a retort, but she threw him such a hard look that it stopped him short. It wasn’t hard to see the wolf in her unwavering glare, in the way her jaw clenched and her lip twitched like she wanted to bare her teeth and snarl at him. Her eyes didn’t need to be glowing for me to understand that the animal under her skin wanted to sink its teeth into this man. And for what? For making me uncomfortable?

Maybe I should have been more displeased with her actions, but something told me that this man wouldn’t have given up so easily otherwise. I had to suppress a shudder at the thought of what he would have done if I flat out rejected him. No, I was grateful for Jayde’s intervention. Especially when I could still feel her thumb brush against me and the unnatural warmth of her palm seeping through my clothes graced my skin comfortingly.

With the look Jayde was giving him, the man must have decided I wasn’t worth the effort, because he simply swallowed hard and said, “Maybe next time then.” Before getting up and hastily making his way out of the diner.

I soon found that a part of me wished he hadn’t gone when I felt Jayde’s hand retreat from my arm. Was she really only touching me to protect me? The thought was slightly discouraging. It almost made me want to experiment, to test the hypothesis, but that motive didn’t seem like a good excuse.

Jayde sat across from me in the seat the stranger had been in and she grimaced for a second, probably at the scent left over from him. “You sure you’re okay? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

My head shook dismissively, “All he did was offer me a drink and ramble on about his truck.”

Her hand reached out across the table, almost like she was reaching for me, but it suddenly stopped halfway and pivoted to fiddle with the fork and knife wrapped in a napkin, “Good.”

“You weren’t really worried, were you?” I asked with a small smirk as I focused on the way her fingers removed the strip of paper holding the napkin together to start folding it.

“Of course I was.” She answered quickly.

Quickly enough that my eyes snapped up to meet hers. There was an unnamed intensity there in her midnight blue irises, one that told me she would have sent that stranger through the window if he had hurt me in any way. After a moment, Jayde must have realized how intense she was being. She blinked and returned her attention to the piece of paper she had been folding. An awkward silence fell between us, only disturbed by the other customers mingling in the diner, and I struggled to interpret the deeper meaning I had seen in her stare.

Finally, I mustered the courage to say something, “I appreciate it.”

To my pleasant surprise, I saw a hint of the smile she had given me a few minutes earlier come across her lips. It was a bit of a reserved expression, as if she was shy about it, but that didn’t make it any less thrilling to witness.

“I know I shouldn't…” Jayde started slowly while focusing on the paper, it had to be some form of origami, “But I worry about you a lot.”

“Why?” I asked, nervous that I was being more of a burden than I originally thought.

It took Jayde a prolonged moment to answer while she pondered her words carefully. Then she opened her mouth and spoke incredibly softly while she continued to fold a little paper creature in her hands, “You’re really important to me.”

My heart rate immediately picked up and my eyes started tracing the shape of her lips as if on instinct. I noticed too late that Jayde had looked back up at me when her smile deepened into a grin, and I glanced away so swiftly that there’s no way she didn’t catch it. There were only a small handful of seconds that I could take before I couldn’t stand not looking at her. Her stare was still firmly locked on mine when I directed my attention back to her. I had to say something with the way she was gazing at me.

“You’re really important to me too.” I uttered through a deep blush. I felt better when her expression mirrored mine.

The entire diner disappeared as we stared at each other for what felt like forever, but somehow wasn’t enough at the same time. Then Jayde held up a tiny paper crane that she made, handing it over to me. The tips of our fingers brushed together, causing heat to pool through my hand and up my arm, and I decided to let my touch linger for just a little longer than necessary before I fully accepted the crane. Jayde didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. My spirits were lifted once again.

I studied the little paper crane. It wasn’t perfectly done, some of its edges were uneven, but I still smiled at it. “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

“My sister.” Jayde answered with pride, “Skye’s been crazy about origami since we were kids. She’s a lot better at it than I am, but she taught me how to fold a few things.”

“I like it.” I said before handing it back to her.

Jayde shook her head, “It’s yours.”

I laughed. The gift was small and could be considered insignificant, having been made out of a strip of paper meant to hold napkins and utensils together, but my chest flooded with warmth and I pocketed the tiny bird in my jacket pocket where I knew it would be safe. “Thanks, Jay.”

She took a moment to smile at me, then sit up and say, “So, you hungry?”

I nodded, after a long day on the road, some food sounded perfect. “Very much so.”

“I’ll go grab us some menus.”

I watched her go, feeling like just maybe things would end up the way I hoped they would.

#asks #anon #ocs #original characters #my ocs #hey finally found the time to finish this last prompt!#been house/dog sitting the last few days with some very excitable pups that dont let me pay attention to much of anything #plus im surrounded by smoke from all the fires in the bay area rn #and worrying about people i care about that have had to evacuate #and then trying to figure out what i can actually do for my bday tomorrow #its been.... a lot lmao #anyway enough of my bitching enjoy some gay ass nerds #Jayde #Nadya #My writing #Nadya pov

5 notes · View notes

jungle321jungle · 4 years

Text

As Cold As Stone: Part One

Dante Ekan’s newest case is a twenty one year old murder. It’s witnesses have remained silent all this time. So Agent Ekans seeks to change that.

He pokes, he prods, he bluffs, he lies, and he digs too deep.

But maybe the witnesses were silent for a reason.

Also on Ao3

~~~~

One

“What makes this one different?”

The Captain raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

Dee gave a shrug as he peered looked through the box he had been given, “You seem to only like giving me the quote on quote interesting cases, so why is this one special?”

“It’s a twenty-one year old child murder... One with five witnesses.”

“Then why is it unsolved?”

“The witnesses were also children. And not one would talk about what happened. Maybe time has loosened their lips.”

Even with five unwilling witnesses, evidence were scarce to say the least. It seemed everything that was known was learned from the child’s body.

Merten Hill. July.

The victim had been Thomas Sanders, only six at the time. He and the other five boys, ages three to six, used to play in the property behind Thomas’ house. The property itself went along with a mansion, both had been owned by the town, since before the murder occurred. The children used to go out and play and parents would go check in on them, now and then. And then one day five crying boys came back without Thomas.

Thomas’ mother had been the one to find the body.

He had multiple fractures, a broken neck -determined to be the cause of death- and wounds of an undetermined animal. Despite those bite and claw marks however, investigators at the time however had ruled his death a homicide given the large, adult-sized handprint found around Thomas’s neck.

The witnesses had each gone through counseling, but not one would speak on what occurred that day.

But thankfully all of them still lived here and in the surrounding towns and cities. So he’d first speak to the police who knew the case best- and then with the witnesses individually.

But which to speak to first?

~~~~

Logan Ackroyd was at work.

Ironically enough the now twenty-seven year old man worked for CSI. Dee resisted the urge to laugh as he walked into the lab. Eyes glanced up at him as he did, but when no one did more than that he gave a sigh and pulled out his badge. “Dante Ekans. FBI. I’m looking for Logan Ackroyd?”

There were a few shifting glances before one head raised up from its workstation and considered Dee with a confused expression. “Can I help you?”

Dee nodded back toward the hallway which he had come from, “Just wanna talk.”

The man gave an audible sigh as he moved closer to Dee before heading out into the hallway. The first thing Dee noticed about him was the man’s height, the second thing was his insistent fidgeting with his tie. Apparently it wasn’t straight enough as he adjusted it constantly, but he seemed to do so absentmindedly as he spoke, “Well? Did you need something?”

“I work cold case,” Dee started slowly watching the man’s unchanging expression. “Currently, I’m revisiting the murder of Thomas Sanders.”

The adjusting of the tie stopped for less than a moment, before it resumed. “I’m sorry to tell you that I know nothing about what happened to him,” Logan answered his arms dropping to his sides.

“But you were there.”

“I was,” he agreed. “But, according to one of the many psychiatrists I had, I blocked out the memory to the point it’s almost as if I was never there at all.”

His words were practiced. They were probably something he had been saying all his life. The unchanging expression on his face was practiced- was a mask. The only thing which seemed to show his true emotion was the fact that he had stopped fidgeting with his tie.

The man himself was a lie.

But Dee often found that he was the biggest liar there was. “I see. Well could you at least do me a favor?”

“A favor?”

“Take me to where it happened? I just want to see the area for myself. Helps process my thoughts.”

“I’m afraid I do not know the exact location. Perhaps one of the officers remembers? Or it might be in the notes?”

“But you played there everyday, right? Perhaps you might know more than even you think.”

“Nothing would look familiar to me under all the snow,” he stated. “I should be getting back to worth. I have open cases I must help with.”

“I understand,” Dee nodded moving to leave. “But tell me, is Thomas the reason you work CSI now?”

“Have a pleasant day Agent Ekans.”

~~~~

Roman Prince lived on the opposite side of Merten Hill from where he had grown up, and from where his childhood friend had been murdered. It seemed he was the only one of the five who still lived in the same town.

The home was small and average.

But as Dee went to ring the doorbell he heard shouting from inside. He has barely pressed the button before the door was wrenched upon and glare was fixed upon him.

“What?”

Dee raised an eyebrow amused as he flashed his badge, “Dante Ekans. I’m with the FBI.”

Roman’s eyes widened as he took a step back, “Motherf- Remus !” The man turned on his heel and led the way in the house shouting as he went, leaving Dee no choice but to close the door behind him and follow.

“You piece of shit! What did you do to piss off the goddamn FBI !”

Remus Prince was man Dee hadn’t expected to meet. To his knowledge the man had been legally homeless and jobless on account of his last arrest. But him being here made his job easier.

Amongst the children’s toys which littered the room, Remus lay upside on the couch in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt watching TV. “I don’t think I did anything... Would you like me to do something?”

“Just get the fuck out of my house already!” Roman shouted at him. He turned on Dee, “Just arrest him and leave!”

“I’m not here to arrest anyone,” Dee tried. “I wanted to talk is all.”

“So you’re going to talk out on the porch, and then arrest him?”

“Not unless he’s the one who killed Thomas Sanders.”

Roman’s barely contained anger fizzled out in a single breath. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times as Remus straightened himself on the couch.

“Why are you looking into that?” Roman asked quietly.

“I’m with cold case,” Dee explained with a shrug. “And I’m revisiting his murder. I was hoping to see if either of you remember anything?”

“We don’t,” Roman replied shortly, but Dee had noticed as Remus had opened his mouth to speak.

“And you? I know you’re twins, but do you share your brother’s memory?”

“The only thing I remember from that day is his body,” Remus shrugged looking back at the TV.

“Oh? So you don't remember running home either?”

“We don’t,” Roman answered firmly.

For actors they were terrible liars.

Roman’s yelling was heard outside of the house, it seemed his words wouldn't stop- until Dee had explained why he was there. Remus didn't seem to have a care in the world, and now the man stared blankly at what was in front of him as if he wasn’t truly seeing it.

Terrible liars indeed.

“Is there anything that you do remember?”

Roman shook his head as Remus stood, “I can describe to you what he looked like? I can tell you how red his blood was, or how pale he looked. I’m sure I could do better justice than any old crime scene photo. Or perhaps I could draw it? Paint it? What medium would you prefer?”

“I’ll need to get my daughter from the bus stop soon,” Roman interrupted. “I rather not talk about this with her around- or at all.”

Dee nodded once his eyes taking in the family photos covering the room- all of which showed a bright eyes little girl with or without Roman, but never with a mother. “How old is she?”

“Almost five.”

“Same age you were when Thomas died.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

~~~~

Virgil Storm wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Dee had gone to his community college to find him, but upon hearing why Dee was there he had promptly pulled on his headphones and locked himself in a bathroom stall. So after twenty minutes of this Dee had opted for talking to the last witness on his list.

Patton Hart.

He found the preschool teacher outside with groceries when he approached the home. “Patton Hart?”

The man turned in surprise and gave Dee a small smile, “Can I help you?”

A flash of the badge. “Ekans. I’m with the FBI. I was wondering if I could speak you?”

“Of course! Let’s go inside where it’s warm though? Dee nodded as the man hefted a few bags and walked into the small house and Dee followed him. I’m the entryway sat a few more bags and as a sign of good faith Dee picked them up as he followed him into the kitchen.

“Oh you don’t need to do that!” Patton said hurriedly.

“It’s fine,” Dee smiled. “If I’m going to intrude for a bit at least let me help.”

“Well can I at least offer some tea or- oh I just bought hot chocolate!”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure, kiddo? I got an extra chocolate kind, because it’s my roommates favorite.”

Kiddo? Dee gave a sigh as he took a seat at the counter. “Hot chocolate sounds good.”

Patton smiled and moved about the kitchen putting away groceries, and when that was done he put some milk in the microwave. Dee sat quietly while the man worked as he took in the scene around him.

Patton Hart seemed calm and easy going- in other words not one of the five he had spoken to today must’ve told him that Dee was going around asking questions.

But that was good.

If they don’t speak, there was no way to keep the story as straight as it seemed.

“Here’s your hot chocolate!” Patton cheered setting a cat mug in front of Dee before he held a matching one to his lips. “So what can I do for you kiddo?”

Dee smiled back, and took a sip, “This is good. And I’m working a cold case right now. I was hoping you could help me iron out some details.”

The man’s eyebrows scrunched as he took another sip, “I’m not sure what case I’d know about.”

“I’m looking into the murder of Thomas Sanders.”

Patton’s smile twitched as he set down his mug carefully, “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember much. I couldn’t then either...”

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Dee responded patiently. “Remus Prince already told me all I need to know...” Dee hid a smirk as the man’s eyes widened in surprise. “But the issue is the story of a convinced felon who has had multiple drug issues isn’t exactly one which will hold up well.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Quite frankly I’m unsure what part of what he told me is true, and which was a drug induced hallucination. So, I’m talking to everyone else. Roman Prince wasn’t very cooperative, he told me everything his brother says is ridiculous and not to trust it. So, I’ve come to ask for your side to the story. And then come morning I’ll head to speak to Logan and Virgil and ask theirs.”

Patton faltered, his fingers tapping against the counter anxiously. “I don’t know what happened,” he answered quietly.

Dee set down his mug, “It’s been twenty one years, aren’t you tired of that same lie?”

“I’m not-”

“You work with preschoolers don’t you?”

“Yes but-”

“Is it to protect them? Because no one protected Thomas? ...because no one protected you?”

Tears gathered in his eyes as he continued his tapping in silence.

“Mr. Hart?” Dee asked quietly rounding the corner to stand beside the man. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can't !”

Dee gave him a smile, “When someone says I can’t do something, it only makes me want to do it more.”

He wiped at his eyes, “Please just leave.”

“Let me help.”

“Please just go. Mister Sir won’t like-”

“Mister Sir?” Dee chuckled. “Is that-”

“Get out!”

“I’m sorry,” Dee apologized quickly. “I just thought the name is amusing. Is it your pet’s-”

Patton Hart’s face looked like Dee had just murdered someone in front him. His face was pale, and he looked ready to begin dry heaving as his eyes flickered anxiously toward the darkness outside his window. “I said get out.”

“Is someone watching you?”

“Get out!”

Dee sighed and moved toward the door. He let himself out as Patton stood behind him ready to lose the door, but Dee stuck an arm in the door frame before it slammed shut. “Thanks for the hot chocoate, and here’s my card. Call me if you’re ready to face this.”

Patton’s mouth opened but he froze eyes looking out past Dee. “Leave,” he pleaded as tears began to fall. “And don’t come back.”

Dee let the card fall from his hand onto the floor before he turned and headed down the steps- the door slamming shut behind him.

He gave a sigh and watched as his breath rose up in the cold.

“Mister Sir...”

The chirping of a bird dragged Dee’s attention momentarily to the tree beside the house. Didn’t birds hibernate or something? Or was that squirrels?

Dee rolled his eyes at his own thoughts as he headed to his car.

As stupid as it had ended, he had learned two thing today.

1) The witnesses didn’t speak.

That would give Dee and opening to pry, however he deemed necessary

2) They were scared.

He wasn’t sure exactly who it was, but it had to be someone important if the men had remained silent this long. Perhaps he should once again go over everyone involved in their lives.

Then he would go try to speak with them again.

This time, starting with Virgil Storm.

~~~~

Part One - Part Two

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #ascoldasstone #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #deciet sanders #sanders sides fic #ts remus #remus sanders #murder mystery #thomas sanders #character death #mythings #fbi #childhood friends #supernatural #ghosts #thingsssssssssss

61 notes · View notes

waywardsuns · 5 years

Text

The Rule

A/N: this is my first jack x reader fic, so please give it some love. I’m also kind of sorta working on a part 3 to Don’t Tell Anyone. We’ll see how it turns out. My ask box is open, so please feel free to send me requests!

Word Count: 2,4 k

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Jack Kline, Reader (Winchester sister)

Warnings: mild cutesy/sexy things (just enough to get the blood boiling)

“Burgers tonight?” Dean asked. He sat at the motel room table and sipped on a beer as he nursed the large bruise on his cheek with an ice pack. He kicked his feet up on the table and leaned back. He groaned a little when he stretched and grabbed his ribs. “God, I hate werewolves,” he muttered.

“Mhmm yeah,” Sam said. He didn’t look up from his phone. Jules had had some trouble with a hunt she had gone on and was getting advice from Sam on how to find a ghoul. Y/N was so proud of him, and how he was as a leader. Dean was just relishing time out of the bunker because he didn’t like all of the people from Apocalypse world using it at a command center. She had to say she agreed. They were all nice, but… that was home and they weren’t exactly family. The Winchester’s were just prone to finding strays. And they were definitely foster fails.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Aw come on, I’m so sick of burgers. Let’s find something else.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Like what?”

“Well, I thought I saw a Chick-fil-a on our way in…” she sang.

Sam locked the screen of his phone. “No, yeah. She’s right, that’s better.” He dropped his phone on the table next to Dean and grabbed his own beer out of the fridge.

Dean nodded and pulled his wallet out and dropped thirty bucks on the table. “Get me something spicy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Whatever. Keys?” Y/N made a grabby motion with her hand.

He held them just out of her reach with two fingers. “Do not crash my fucking car.”

Y/N threw her hands up and looked at Sam for support. “You were the one to teach me how to drive. If I crash, you’re responsible.” She leaned across the table and snatched the Impala’s keys before he could yank them back again. “Hey Jack, you wanna come?”

Jack looked up from the book he was reading on one of the beds. He’d always liked learning about popular culture, so it was obvious that she would give him the Harry Potter books to read. Y/N and Sam pitched in to buy the whole set, on the premise that you all could share it if one of you wanted to reread one of the books. He dog-eared a page in The Goblet of Fire and started tying his shoelaces. “Sure. What’s Chick-fil-a?”

She grabbed his jacket and tossed it to him. “Uh, I guess it’s like church, but they sell chicken.”

“That’s very accurate,” Sam chuckled.

“Hey,” Dean called as she reached for the door. “Will you get me a Dr. Pepper? Please.”

Sam turned his head and smiled. “Me too.”

“Sure.” She grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him out of the door before her brothers could make any more special requests.

As Y/N started the car and pulled onto the street she reached for Jack’s hand. “Sorry if you were reading your book, I just really wanted to spend some time with you without Sam and Dean there.”

Jack squeezed her hand and brought it up to his mouth to place a kiss on her knuckles. “No, I’m glad you did. It’s hard being around them with you.”

As she slowed down to stop at a red light she leaned over to kiss him. He slid a hand over her knee. Jack was especially good at keeping boundaries, always making sure that she was okay with anything he did. She took his hand and guided it higher up on her thigh, because she on the other hand, probably would have been okay with no boundaries. Jack had just slid his tongue across her bottom lip eliciting a sigh from her when a honk that came from behind them forced them to jump apart to opposite sides of the car.

“Shit,” Y/N stepped on the gas and peeled away from the now green light. For the rest of the drive, Jack kept her right hand firmly clasped in his, every now and then rubbing his thumb over hers. Though the gesture was nice, Y/N desperately wanted that hand to be somewhere else on her body.

The line was five cars deep when they got there and it gave them time to talk about the important things: Harry Potter. It passed the time quick, they were in the middle of an argument about which was the best book, up to where Jack was when she had to pause to order.

As she was relaying the order she could feel Jack’s lips where her neck met her shoulder; her sweet spot. She struggled to keep her voice level as she thanked the cashier and she pulled up.

“What are you doing?” She giggled. Instead of pushing him away, Y/N grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closer. It was so uncharacteristic of Jack to initiate something like that, especially in public, with car windows that had virtually no tint on them.

“Sorry,” he murmured against her neck. Ah fuck.

“No, don’t be sorry. I was just wondering.” He had moved away far enough that she could look in his eyes. “Jack, you can do whatever you want to me,” she whispered. And she meant it. She didn’t know why she said it in the front seat of her brother’s car, but she had meant every word.

Jack kissed her slow and deep. It made Y/N feel like her body was sinking into the leather bench. Her stomach dropped to her curling toes as he ran his long fingers up her thigh to the waistband of her jeans and then back down to her knee. God, he was teasing her. The worst part was having to pull herself back to reality to make sure she kept a tight foot on the brake and to move up in line every so often.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek as she handed the cashier the cash who gave her a sweet smile in return.

“You two are cute,” she said as she handed out the drinks and food.

“Thanks,” Y/N said hesitantly. And she realized this was the first time that she and Jack had ever gone out together as a couple. Most of their time was spent alone in one of their rooms, late at night so no one would catch them. They’d never had the luxury of going out because someone–Sam, Dean, or Cas–was always with them.

She pulled out of the drive-thru and into a close parking spot before throwing the car into park and sliding across the bench seat, closer to Jack.

He ran his thumb down her jaw as he kissed her. In no time, she had thrown her leg over his and straddled him, running her fingers through his soft hair. Jack moaned as she dragged her nails along the back of his neck, and she could feel his cock twitch with interest beneath her. He dragged his tongue across her bottom lip and every nerve in Y/N body tingled. Jack gripped her ass and pulled her tight against him so their chests pressed together and between the thin t-shirts and jackets she could feel his heart pounding – or maybe it was hers. She fought against every urge in her body that told her to take this to the back-seat, only to pull her lips away and press their foreheads together. They both were panting and grabbing at each other’s clothes, anything to get closer to one another.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured.

Jack chuckled lightly. He rubbed the tops of her thighs which sent tingles straight to her core. “Don’t apologize for that.” He leaned in to kiss Y/N again but she slid off his lap and out of the way of those soft, soft lips…

“No, I’m just sorry that I got us both worked up. If we don’t get this food back to Sam and Dean, they’re going to call and wonder where we are.”

Jack sighed disappointedly and pulled on the legs of his jeans, obviously trying to relieve some of the tightness and adjust himself. Y/N tore her gaze away from the bulge in his pants and began to crack her knuckles. She put the car in drive and peeled out of the parking lot.

“It’s just–” she shook her head, “they can’t know. They’d kill us both.”

“Stop apologizing,” Jack said. “I know they can’t know. Don’t worry about it.”

‘God, he was so fucking sweet.’ She thought to herself. He just wanted her to be happy. She knew he didn’t actually care if Sam and Dean knew about whatever this was between them. Actually, he’d probably be more relieved if they did know. But Jack also understood how overprotective they could be.

Y/N rubbed a hand across her face. She could still smell Jack from across the bench; his shampoo, his deodorant, everything that was Jack and it was stuck in her nose, intoxicating her. She reached down and cranked the handle to roll the window down. The fall air whipped at her cheeks and cooled her down instantly, and any smell of Jack escaped through the window into the night.

“All I want to do is rip your clothes off and throw you in the back seat,” she growled. “And it doesn’t even bother me that Sam and Dean have both used it as their personal ‘conjugal trailer’. I just want you.” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes, wondering if she had gone too far. It had to be as miserable for him as it was for her. But Jack was staring out of the window on his side, smiling.

“We might just have to break our rule.” Jack shrugged. Y/N was watching the headlights bounce over the road but she could feel Jack watching for her reaction. Y/N’s body got hot all over again. She hummed in approval.

The rule he was speaking of was something they made up over hushed tones in her bedroom one night that seemed ages ago. One of the many nights they gathered in her room and watched movies and kissed until their lips were throbbing and they ached to touch each other. Huddled under her covers, they promised they’d keep things between them under wraps, that meant, they’d never do anything with the boys home. And the implication that they should have sex with Cas and Sam and Dean around, the latter two sleeping in rooms just down the hall was both frightening and exciting.

Y/N pulled into the parking lot and turned the car off. There were so many things that she wanted to say to Jack before they got out of the car; before they had to pretend that nothing was going on in front of Sam and Dean again. The words were sweet on her tongue and Jack lapped them up. She didn’t have to say anything, he just knew.

“Dude, I’m starving. Where the fuck are they?” Dean asked Sam for the fourth time. His hands were on his hips and he paced the length of the room. “I’m gonna start eating the fucking walls.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s dramatics and let him complain. He continued scrolling around through small-town newspapers and obituaries looking for cases to dole out to the hunters living at the Bunker. Dean crossed behind him and pressed his forehead to the window like a child waiting for his parents return after a night out.

“Thank god,” he sighed. “They’re pulling in.” He continued to hold the curtains open just far enough so he could see. Just as he was about to turn his head, and close the curtains, he froze.

“Oh,” he softly mumbled.

Sam scoffed. “‘Oh’ what, Dean? Did you spot the wrong black ‘67 Impala?”

“They’re kissing,” he said, disgustedly.

Sam couldn’t have heard that right. He whipped his head around and sure enough, Dean was still staring out the window like a peeping Tom, making sure that only his head was visible through the dingy curtains. Sam jumped up and ripped one side of them out of Dean’s hands.

A few doors down parked–Jesus–right under a light, was Y/N and Jack. If it hadn’t been his little sister and the son of the devil in the front seat of that car, he might have found it a little endearing, like ‘aw, young kids in love’ or whatever. She had her hand wrapped firmed around the back of his neck, and well, he couldn’t even see where Jack’s hands were, and they were clearly tonguing each other.

Dean dropped the curtain. “When did that happen?”

Sam pulled his eyes away in shock. “I don’t know. They seemed close but I thought they were just friends. Just happy to have someone their own age around, you know?”

“Oh yeah, they’re real happy alright.”

Dean stole another glance. “Aw, shit.” he yanked the curtains closed so hard that he nearly broke the rod. “They’re coming inside.”

“What do we do?!” Sam asked.

Dean looked around the room frantically before pushing Sam’s chest. “Sit back down. We’re clearly not supposed to know, so act like it.” He moved back over to sit across from Sam at the table. He grabbed his beer and took a large swig.

Sam went to do the same when his breath caught in his throat. “Dean, don’t they usually sleep in the same bed on hunts?”

Dean choked and sputtered on his beer. It dribbled down his chin and he wiped at it hastily as the door opened. They came in laughing about something that Sam didn’t know what was in reference to; something to do with what the cashier at Chick-fil-a said to them. Jack set the food down in the middle of the table and Y/N plopped the two Dr. Peppers in a drink holder down next to it. She pulled one out and set it in front of Dean, and then pulled the other out and fitted her lips around the straw and took a quick sip before putting it in front of Sam.

Sam stared at the straw that had just been in Y/N’s mouth. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him in the slightest. But now that he knew that Jack’s tongue had been in her mouth not five minutes ago–

He shoved the styrofoam cup back towards her. “You can have it,” he said quickly.

Dean snorted and Sam threw him a glare. Luckily, Y/N didn’t pay him any mind. “Thanks, Sammy.”

#jack kline #jack kline x reader #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #castiel #Misha Collins #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert #SPN #spn fic #SISTER WINCHESTER #winsister #sister Winchester imagines #sister!winchester

1K notes · View notes

himboholhorse-moving · 5 years

Note

1 2 4 7 8 9 13 18 20 26 27 29 30 32 39 40 41 43/44 45 46 49 51 53 55 56 57 59 63 65 that is. so many dghsdghsdgv I'm sorry I just see an ask meme and go crazy aaaa go stupid aaaa. You can just answer whichever u like from those!! also 69(nice): you seem rly nice and funny from your 🅱️osts and I appreciate u... I hope you can find better irl friends who aren't trash

HDSKFJKS I completely understand but lucky for u I LOVE to talk !!

1) How are you?

Pretty good, actually!! Which is a nice change of pace. I went to Walmart with some friends yesterday and got a few things, baked a family recipe that my friends LOVE, and finally did my laundry (it’s been a couple weeks we love depression and executive dysfunction dfhkjsfd). I went to Cracker Barrel with some friends and earlier and played a 4-way game of Tetris after. :3c

2) Post a picture of yourself.

Here you go !!

4) What is your entire name?

Sierra Alexis and my last name is something constantly misspelled so I’ll give you the name of a historical figure whose name is a letter off from mine: George B. McClellan, to whom I may or may not be related because last name variations are fuckin’ WEIRD.

7) Your zodiac/horoscope and if you think it fits your personality.

I’m a Capricorn sun and moon, and Libra rising !! And from what I’ve read on Twitter from various astrologers, like Milkstrology, I LOVE her, I’d say it’s pretty accurate with my personality!! I like to say Capricorn’s aren’t cold bitches but, I Have A Tendency To Be One !!

8) What did you do on your last birthday?

God what DID I do on my last birthday… it was in January, so like, I SHOULD remember… OH I went to IHOP with my friends !! I share a birthday with another friend and I got a JoJo notebook and something called a Fuggler! They’re stuffed animals more or less but designed to be “ugly.” I got one that looks like Philadelphia Flyers mascot Gritty because I LOVE Gritty… he’s so fun and funky.

9) What is one thing you’d like to accomplish before your next birthday?

Get all my requests in my inbox over on my writing blog done KJHFDJKSF it’s been a few months and life has been. Hectic to say the least.

13) If you could change your eye color, would you?

There’s so much weird as hell brown-eye-phobia so like… I think blue eyes would be pretty neat. OR PURPLE… give me some unnatural eye colors pls...

18) Do you have any tattoos?

Not yet!! I’m going to get one the next time I go back home for break. :3c And I have a few ideas for other ones!! I wanna get a big-ass “Dragon Age: Origins” tattoo that’s the dragon on the cover on my thigh. I also wanna get a DA2 and “Inquisition” tattoo… and the Joestar birthmark… too many ideas…

20) Left or right handed?

Right-handed !! I could have been left-handed or ambidextrous if I broke my arm AFTER I started kindergarten, but alas that was before.

26) Something you are working on right now:

This !! But also the script for my next podcast episode that I record on uhhh Monday I think. Should probably figure that one out dsjfjhsf

27) Do you have any “rules” about food?

I answered that in the last ask !!

29) What would you say is your best quality?

I also answered this in the last ask !!

30) What do you think you’re really good at?

Writing, I’d say! And memorizing trivia about the stuff I’m super into. If it’s stuff pertaining to “M*A*S*H” or old movies or TV shows or actors or specific historical events, I will know that shit FOR LIFE. Don’t ask me to do math pls thank u

32) What talent do you wish you’d been born with?

I wish I was able to do stuff with music. That was never really in my blood, despite all the music classes they make you take in elementary school. I just never learned how to memorize or read sheet music. :/ I would have loved to play violin, tho… my friend plays and she says I would have been a good cellist.

39) Do you sleep with a stuffed toy?

YES… have for years. I still have my Care Bear from when I was 5, Gritty as mentioned above, a plush of my school’s mascot, and a little Fugo !! He’s so tiny.

40) What do you think about the most?

Everything and constantly and all at once. But the past really because I can never let stuff go and even the small things I mess up on haunt me forever… Wish that wasn’t the case but it is !!

41) Share two habits:

Biting my nails and having a very specific routine in which I get ready when I wake up. Like, I’ve gotta go brush my hair before I put my important cards in my left pocket, then put on my silver bracelet, then my beaded bracelet, then my earbuds in my right pocket, then put my earrings in. I HAVE to do it in that order…

And other oddities that include, like, if I need to go around something I HAVE to follow the urge to go one way and not the other, lest I feel the need to go back and fix it. And then which foot goes first before I reach a crack in the sidewalk, or up or down a curb, etc.

43) What are your career goals?

If I can just make people happy or get some kind of joy out of the things I do, I’d call that enough. :)

44) What is your ideal career?

Mmm, either a film historian or a film professor !! Preferably at the college I’m at right now but wherever the wind takes me, I’ll go! Or a Twitch streamer or YouTuber, it really depends on my mood jdhfjskf

45) Is your life anything like it was two years ago?

It was pretty much the same !! Freshman year was pretty lively, I didn’t have a job on campus yet though, or my podcast. Everything else is basically the same!

46) Do you replay things that have happened in your head?

CONSTANTLY… good or bad it’ll play back over and over and over again.

49) Do you have any phobias?

HOO BOY, DO I… fear of heights; fear of insects/bugs/arachnids/bees/wasps; I have a strong dislike of the number 13 but I don’t know if it’s a phobia, I just. REALLY hate it; the unknown, more or less what lurks somewhere beyond where I can see. Not so much a fear of the dark with that one, just what could BE in it.

51) Are you allergic to anything? If so, what?

I answered this in my last ask, as well!

53) Ever come close to death?

Two or three times, maybe? Two of them involved what’s called a laryngospasm, typically it can happen when your sick, which is what happened to me both times. Basically your throat just closes up on your for a hot minute and you can’t breathe. The first time I genuinely thought I was going to die (and my dad still sent me to school that day… HOE), the second time I was also sick and was losing/had lost my voice DURING A JOB RETREAT and it happened in the middle of the night so that was funny sitting there gasping for breath in the pitch dark.

At the FIRST retreat I went on for that job, you had to take pictures as part of a scavenger hunt, and the place used to be an old military fort, so there were still the old bunkers there. We had to take one on top of it and I was taking the picture, and it’s a wide shot so I go to take a step back but before I do I look behind me. If I hadn’t I would have fallen a good 10-15 feet down onto solid Civil War-era bunker concrete. I’d consider that being a “close to death” moment because I really could have died!

55) A random fact about yourself:

I have a half-brother !! My sis and I finally found him after her 23andMe results came back (which she decided to do despite us being like THE GOVERNMENT WILL COLLECT OUR DATA) and we didn’t think our mom would be happy she found him but she was !! My sis might reach out and contact him, she just wanted our mom’s permission first to do it.

56) What are three things most people don’t know about you?

Well, that I have a half-brother. I don’t mention it a lot. Aside from y’all on here and my sister, most everyone else doesn’t know I’m nonbinary! Everyone else knows I’m bi though lmao. And that there were times I’d stretch or bend the truth or lie about something just to impress someone else. It’s a… Bad Habit. Another thing is that most people don’t know I like coffee? Like I need to put a shit ton of creamer in with it because I’m a Bitch, but yeah.

57) An unknown fact about your life:

I wouldn’t call this an “unknown” fact but I’d used to go to work with my dad every now and again when he worked at the Home Depot and he was assistant manager. I’d either chill in the back room which was an office he shared with two other guys, or walk around the store with him. I had my own apron, too, which was my name with “Mini Mac” next to it, “Mac” being my dad’s nickname and something easier to say than my last name. I actually helped a few customers out so I wonder if I should have gotten paid for that despite being like, ages 9-13 when I’d go jshfkjd

And I guess I technically tested video games as a kid? Basically, when my dad was stationed at Fort Knox, they’d get demos of video games that hadn’t come out yet to test I suppose? and I still have a few somewhere. He’d hand them off to me and I’d play them so there’s that.

59) Five weird things that you like:

Eating globs of wasabi for no reason.

Scaring my friends also for no reason.

I wouldn’t say using cotton swabs to get wax out of your ears because it feels good is weird, just more medically inadvisable if anything.

When I was younger I’d like to floss really hard because the slight pain from it felt good. Young me was a #Freaque KJHDFJJDHF

I don’t know if being fond of alphabetizing and reorganizing things is considered weird but I LOVE doing that.

63) A quote you try to live by:

“It matters not how strait the gate, / How charged with punishments the scroll; / I am the master of my fate: / I am the captain of my soul.” It’s from the poem “Invictus” and the last two lines are what I’m getting tattooed !!

65) Weird things you do when you’re alone:

Practice the “Lucky Star” dance. I GOT THE LYRICS DOWN… JUST NEED TO DO THE DANCE NOW…

69) Leave me a compliment:

“you seem rly nice and funny from your 🅱️osts and I appreciate u... I hope you can find better irl friends who aren't trash”

Anon pls 🥺 I do my best to be nice but my friend really do test me sometimes... my feelings bounce back n forth like if they do something my feelings can switch to angry or like, hate, and then if they do something nice I’ll like them again. It sucks but ! I just take it one day at a time. Anon I care for u 💜💜💜

#anonymous #asks #ask games #I love u anon 💜 thank u for letting me just Talk jdhsksjf #Anonymous

5 notes · View notes

queen-scribbles · 6 years

Text

All the Comforts of Home

@pillarspromptsweekly 57: Speak (aka yay I get to write more Adi & Rekke buddyfic :DDDD)

Between her years in the Dyrwood and this current... adventure through Deadfire Archipelago, Adela had dealt with her share of homesickness. While she didn’t regret any of the things she’d learned (and very few of the things she’d seen), or friends she’d made, she couldn’t deny missing various things about home. Chief among them--more than anything aside from Mama’s cooking or spending time with Cousin Lottie--was hearing her home tongue. Given how little the various tribes and groups of Ixamitl had spread, and how content most of its denizens were to stay within its borders, she hadn’t heard Ixamitli since leaving with Odema’s caravan.

She enjoyed and appreciated other languages, of course. The musical lilt of Vailian, the complexity--and ubiquity--of Aedyran, even the beautifully practical flow of Engwithan. But nothing held a candle to the cozy familiarity of Ixamitli, with its conjured memories of smelling Ben’s latest dessert creation, or braiding Tia’s hair.

Seki came close, though. Adela had suspected as much from the day they fished Rekke out of the ocean and he’d joined her crew. His native tongue sounded almost, almost familiar to her (achingly so), and the opposite seemed to be true as well. That had probably been at least a contributing factor to her wanting to learn. She would have anyway, because languages were one of her very favorite things. But Seki’s similarity to her native Ixamitli was definitely a bonus. She still missed her home tongue, though. There was only so much talking to herself she could do to fill that void.

><><><><

“....so you two want to look for new armor, Maia, you’re visiting the cartographer, and Rekke and I are buying provisions?” Adela glanced between her companions to confirm their plans and received nods all around. “Alright. Beodul said the repairs we need will take at least a day, so no rush.”

She waited until Aloth and Pallegina headed for the stairs to Periki’s Overlook, and Maia to Sanza’s emporium, then tugged Rekke’s sleeve to get him to follow her. “This way.”

He nodded and fell in step behind her. “Where... where are we going?”

“Oh, Serafen told me about this place, somewhere between here and the Brass Citadel, there’s an entire avenue of shops that have better prices than here in Queen’s Berth, but slightly less questionable suppliers than the Narrows.” Adela made a face. “Only, he wouldn’t tell me exactly where it was. Said that would ruin the fun. So.” She looked up at Rekke and grinned. “Wanna go on an adventure?”

He raked wind-swept red hair back from his face and nodded, matching her grin. “Ta. Sounds fun. “

She giggled and fought the urge to skip. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. It does sound fun. Can we practice Seki while we look?”

Rekke nodded again, playing with one of the feathers Xoti had braided into his hair that morning. “If you want.”

Adela tugged the end of her braid and flashed him an even bigger grin--”Great!--before promptly switching.

><><><><

It took the better part of two hours to find what they sought--long enough Adela was beginning to wonder if Serafen had made it up--but they had fun doing it. Spent the whole time chattering in Seki, which she appreciated. Rekke had told her she was doing great, but her Seki still wasn’t as good as his Aedyran.

Besides, she thought wryly as she examined a shelf full of dried fruit, with Ondra’s Mortar between Yezuha and the rest of the world, how many kith have tried learning Seki? How’s he know I’m doing great if there’s no one to measure me against?

Even as she wondered that and deliberated what to buy, Rekke leaned around the display. “I found the fresh fruit,” he informed her, still in Seki. “What should I look for next?”

“Hardtack, I suppose,” Adela replied in slower Seki, reaching up to adjust her bandanna. “I know it’s awful, but for a last resort...”

Rekke chuckled, gently offered correction on a couple of words she mispronounced, and vanished back into the maze of the store. Adela turned her attention to the dried meats, but hadn’t been perusing them long when one of the storekeepers approached.

“Did you need help finding anything?” he asked in faintly accented Aedyran, smile only slightly forced as he looked down at her.

She knew that tone. Folk in Ixamitl used it all the time as a barely-polite cloaked suspicion of their orlan neighbors. The fidgety clasped hands, the smile that didn’t reach his eyes, they were familiar, too. Her ears twitched back in response.

Who says the Deadfire doesn’t have all the comforts of home? she thought sarcastically, before forcing a cheery smile. “No, I’m doing fine, but thank you!” she assured him brightly, also in Aedyran.

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Alright, then, let us know if you need any help.” He returned to his previous task, but she could feel his eyes on her as she shopped.

So is it the foreign language or being an orlan that made you suspicious? Adela thought wryly. She’d run into both back home. Practicing new languages under your breath in public tended to draw odd looks. Accustomed as she may have been to things of its kind, the moment was still enough to disincline her toward lingering. The shop owners kept watching her and Rekke--The unfamiliar language, then--despite the fact there were other customers in the store. So she sighed, finished collecting what they needed, and located Rekke so they could pay. The price was, of course, several pires higher than her mental calculations, but pointing that out earned a half-baked excuse of recently raised prices and the tag changes still being a work in progress. She was pretty sure that was bullshit--there was no evidence of it--but the price difference wasn’t enough to fight about, and she really didn’t feel like finding another store and hunting up all the provisions again. Besides, this store had stocked an apple-spice tea from home she hadn’t been able to find anywhere else in the whole archipelago. So she paid, waited for the purchases to be wrapped (Rekke scooped up most of them, a habit Adela had long adjusted to), and turned to leave.

They were halfway to the door when she heard it. In the smooth, rolling tones of a native speaker, Ixamitli floated up from the murmuring storekeeps.

“She’s got him well-trained, doesn’t she?” the one who had approached her said derisively. “Shouldn’t it be the other way ‘round?”

“Aye,” the other agreed. “Must be awful lily-livered t’ not stand up for himself. Lookit, she don’t even come to his waist ‘less you count the ears.”

Said ears--as well as her face--burning with indignation, Adela pivoted on one heel, looked them both dead in the eye, and in equally natural Ixamitli spat, “At least he has the guts to share his opinions of people to their faces.” She spun back and marched out the door. Never shopping here again, even if they do have my favorite tea.

“What did you say to make them look like ghosts?” Rekke asked as they headed back towards Queen’s Berth.

“They were saying bad things about us in my home tongue,” she replied carefully. “They’re prob’ly also from Ixamitl with some of the things they sold. It’s also not a common language to encounter outside our borders. I scolded them for it, also in Ixamitli, so they knew I understood what they said.”

“Oh. What did they say?” he asked, shifting the bundles he carried to brush hair out of his eyes.

“Just the sort of thing any orlan’s heard at least a dozen times unless they’re extremely lucky,” she shrugged. Not what I had in mind with ‘I miss home’.

“You said us,” Rekke reminded her. “What did they say about me?”

“It wasn’t nice, isn’t that enough?” Adela mumbled, but he raised an eyebrow and she sighed, nodding toward the packages he held. “They think you’re a wuss for not standing up to me and doing all the carrying.”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Wuss?”

“Coward,” she elaborated.

Rekke actually laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m holding off a kraken so Tekéhu or Xoti can toss little bombs in its mouth,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” she agreed, snickering, before her mood tilted back south. “I just... I’ve been missing Ixamitl; my family, the people, the language, at least a little for five years now. Wishing for it, sometimes. That was not what I had in mind.” She gave a soft, snorting laugh. “Though it does fit. All the comforts of home; tea, dried fruit, casual prejudice....”

“They don’t know you any more than they knew me,” Rekke pointed out. “Tagukin.”

She laughed. “I know.”

“When we get back to the ship you can braid more beads in my hair,” Rekke offered. “If it will help you feel better.”

This laugh was more genuine, and Adela felt her spirits life at just his concern. “Ta, it would. Trying to look like a pirate?”

He nodded, grinning. “Ta. If I do it well enough, do you think the crew will make me captain?”

She chuckled, shooting him a bemused look. “Do you really want to be?”

“No. You make a good casita,” he winked.

“Irrena teach you that?”

“Not on purpose,” Rekke said cheerfully. “But it was easy to figure out.”

Adela raised an eyebrow. “I think you might be even better at languages than I am.”

“Casita is easy, though,” he pointed out. “Especially here. Aloth told me you know Engwithan. That is the squiggly one we find on ruins sometimes, ta? It looks much harder.”

“Well, I had help,” she protested, thinking back to Icantha and the memories of her Inquisitor-self.

Rekke smiled at her, so wide the freckles crinkled into the corners of his eyes. “So do I.”

Adela smiled back and the two of them moved back to more frivolous topics for the rest of their walk.

><><><><

Once they were aboard the ship once again, and she’d had time to brew some of the divine-smelling tea, and taken Rekke up on his offer to play with his hair, the tension of the days’ events finally started bleeding out

“If you want,” Rekke piped up when Adela was halfway through her second bead-laced braid, “I could learn Ixamitl and talk it with you like you do for me with Seki.”

Adela smiled and bit her lip. “Oh, Rekke, that’s very sweet, but you don’t have to do that.”

He half-turned, almost pulling the braid from her hands, and winked at her. “I want to, Adi. If we are going to visit each other’s homes, it only makes sense, ta?”

She laughed and finished off the braid. “An excellent point.”

“Also, I think it will be fun.” Rekke settled back in so she could start another of the narrow braids.

“I will do my very best,” Adela promised with a smile, and started braiding. My favorite tea, good friends.... now this is all the comforts of home.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #adela tecali #rekke #pillars of eternity #pillars 2 #goooooooood i love their friendship :DDD

18 notes · View notes

bubble-tea-bunny · 6 years

Text

swimming with the sharks

[billy hargrove x reader]

author’s note: here’s part 2 to “my type”! i started writing this super late. now it’s 2:30 am and i’m delusional but i finished this in one sitting cuz i love y’all

word count: 2,848

part one: x

Steve’s bedroom door is wide open, and you take a brief detour on your walk to your own room, leaning in the doorframe with crossed arms and a small smile on your face. There’s papers scattered on his bed and he’s cross-legged in the midst of the mess, heavy sighs leaving his lips as he tries to make sense of it all. It seems he hasn’t noticed you, and you don’t think he actually will if you stay quiet.

“You guys get everything done?”

At this, your brother finally glances up and you can see the stress in his eyes. Though you’re not sure if that’s due to the work or Billy Hargrove being Billy Hargrove—which is to say, giving Steve a hard time. “I think so? I hope so. Because Christ, if I have to see that son of a bitch again over break—”

“Hey,” you interrupt gently. You’re not defending Billy in the least bit, heavens no. It’s true that Steve never speaks so aggressively about many people, something you’ve always been so proud of him for, and you’re hoping one bump in the road doesn’t change that. Also, you don’t want him getting too passionate about his distaste for his project partner when your parents might overhear the curses spewing from his mouth. You can hear your dad now—“There will be no swearing in this house!”

Steve doesn’t need you to explain why you cut him off. He looks apologetic as he continues, calmer this time. “I really hope we’re finished. Seeing Billy can most definitely wait until next week.” He murmurs to himself that he’d prefer never seeing Billy again period but you can still hear it from across the room, and it makes you chuckle.

“I’ve never seen you this riled up about anyone.” You walk over to him, glancing over all the papers. You don’t take a seat because there’s no space, but you’re fine with standing to the side. There’s two different types of handwriting present amongst the notes, though most of them is in what you recognize to be Steve’s. He probably took it upon himself to do much of the writing, since it would help keep things more organized.

“He almost makes it too easy.” Steve scoffs. “Hey, you answered the door when he came by. What’d you think of him?”

You take a moment to consider the query, lips pursed in thought. You’re genuinely not sure what to make of Billy. You thought you had him pinned down until he’d promptly thrown all your expectations out the window. Every attempt to shut him down had just resulted in you screwing yourself over. He was a step ahead, pushing you into a corner until you had nowhere else to run.

“He’s… really bold,” you decide to say, shrugging as you do so. “Really flirty.”

“Did he say something to you?” Steve’s eyes are watching you closely, face a mixture of concern for you and anger toward Billy for even trying anything with you.

“Not anything that crossed the line,” you reassure, smiling and hoping that he believes you. Had Billy crossed a line? Crossing a line would mean you’d find something offensive, but… you’d found nothing he said offensive. In contrast, a part of you did kind of like it. No guy has ever been so forward and confident with you and you hate to admit that it had been a refreshing change of pace. But Jesus, why did it have to be someone still in high school, and why did it have to be the one person your brother hates the most? You feel like you’re betraying him by entertaining the thought of Billy in this way.

Steve doesn’t respond right away, trying to figure out if you’re lying, but when he comes to the conclusion you aren’t, he sighs. “I mean I doubt you’ll be seeing him again while you’re here, but if you do, just… stay away from him, okay?”

You nod and smile. “Okay.” You think that Steve telling you this will help keep your resolve strong, that the excitement that bubbles in you at the prospect of seeing Billy again will start to dissipate as you repeat what he’s said to you—stay away from him. At least you hope it will.

———

Of course it should follow that you do run into Billy Hargrove again while you’re in Hawkins. Maybe it’s because this place is tiny and it’s easy to run into people. Maybe it’s because the issue you and Steve should’ve been more worried about is whether Billy could stay away from you.

You’re at the general store, paying for an array of snacks for tonight’s movie marathon with your brother. This was a weekly occurrence when you were still in high school, but now it’s tradition for whenever you’re home from college. It’s Steve who goes to the video rental store to get the movies, a bunch of VHS tapes in his arms as he barely maneuvers the door open before kicking it closed with his foot. He always rents the maximum amount even if you never get through them all, but you try awfully hard to. He’s there so often that the guy working there knows him, and when Steve’s trips there became less frequent, that’s how the clerk (David you think his name is) learns Steve has a sister who’s now in college and that’s why he’s not around often anymore. And that’s also how David knows whenever you’re in town—Steve pops in to rent some movies.

“Hey, what do you know—it’s Steve’s sister.”

While the cashier is getting your change you grit your teeth, debating between ignoring the statement or glancing over your shoulder at the one who had said it. After you tuck away the cash in your wallet and stuff your wallet into your purse, you twist around, plastic bag in hand, to see Billy Hargrove standing there, hands tucked into his jacket pockets just like the first time you’d seen him, and the same deceptively sweet smile on his face.

You sigh as you walk over (not to him, you tell yourself. The exit is just in that direction). “Steve’s sister has a name. Or have you forgotten it in the slough of names of other girls you talk to?” Well, it seems like you won’t be ignoring him after all. Nice one, [Name]. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? You don’t foresee this going very well.

Billy chuckles, the look of satisfaction in his eyes apparent now that he’s got you roped into a conversation. “I could never forget your name, [Name]. No need to get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you snap, brows furrowed.

“Uh huh.” Billy’s doing his best not to smile. He’s not convinced in the least bit and it makes you irritated. “And I guess the next thing you’re going to say is you don’t like talking to me.”

“You’re right: I don’t like talking to you.” You skirt around him, hoping that to be the end of it. But apparently whatever he had come here for isn’t as important as continuing his conversation with you, because he trails behind you, catching the door before it slides back into place and following you outside.

“If you didn’t like talking to me you would’ve ignored me.” Shit. You seem to be chock full of bad decisions lately, and they are all bad decisions Billy Hargrove is pouncing on like a predator to its prey. Then you realize this is a second out—you could stay silent this time and walk away, over to your car a short ways down the block. But you come to a stop at this comment, and the moment you do, there is no turning back. So you twist around to face him. Fuck it.

“What’s your deal?” you ask. Honestly, you’re pretty sure you already know the answer, and the prospect of being correct in your assumption makes your heart beat a little harder.

Billy raises a brow and shrugs. “To make a friend?”

You see straight past this. “That’s not your game.”

He doesn’t put up much of a fight trying to defend his response. In fact, he doesn’t put up a fight at all. “True.” That same easy smirk is back on his face and he speaks quieter now so no one walking by can overhear. “Okay, you wanna know my deal? You’re a nice girl home from college for the week. I bet you’re stressed from the workload, so you’re looking to blow off some steam. And I’d be more than happy to help you with that.”

You swallow hard, not answering immediately. You had been stressed from your classes and were looking forward to unwinding, but you’d planned to do that by spending time with your brother, not by hooking up with anyone, much less a high school senior. But every word that leaves his mouth is cracking that resolve you thought would be solid stone, even as you repeat stay away from him over and over. It doesn’t matter how many times you do because your fingers are twitching with the urge to reach out, to dig your nails into the muscles of his back and leave little red crescent moons as he fucks you.

It’s official—your sexual frustration is rearing its head, and it overpowers the notion that you should turn him down and forget this ever happened and just spend the rest of your break unwinding the way you meant to originally.

“Just one time,” Billy continues, since you haven’t said anything. He can see the cogs spinning in your head as you try to make a decision, but he’s already certain of the way this is going to go. “And then you never have to speak to me again since, well, apparently you don’t like talking to me.” He laughs a little.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears like thunder and your breaths are shortening from anticipation and the intensity of his gaze. He hasn’t even touched you yet. You wonder what will happen when—yes, when—he does.

It doesn’t take you much longer to find out. You can’t quite remember what it is you say, something to the extent of okay, and then he’s guiding you to his car and pulling out of the parking spot before he speeds down the street. He drives so fast you’re practically glued to your seat, unable to move from the sheer force. Buildings give way to trees as you come to the outskirts of town, the forest extending in either direction of the two-lane road. He pulls off to the side, so far out there’s no chance of anyone driving by.

A turn of the key and the engine dies, and just as it does, Billy’s reaching over to pull you to him, and you let him. You straddle him, grinding down hard on his crotch just as he engulfs your lips in a kiss. You whimper at the friction, and his hands find your waist, trailing down to your hips and then around to grab a handful of your ass. He guides you back and forth over his clothed erection and you pull away to be able to moan more freely, head thrown back. He takes the opportunity to nip and suck at the exposed column of your throat. Luckily you still have the presence of mind to tangle your fingers in his hair, gripping tightly as a warning. It only makes him groan.

“No marks,” you breathe out. He only hums against your skin and you can’t tell if that’s supposed to be him saying okay. You’re a little preoccupied staring up at the ceiling of the car through half-lidded, hazy eyes.

At some point you’ve shed your clothes, all of them thrown away haphazardly. Billy’s shirt is off but the most he does in the ways of his jeans is unbutton them so he can pull his boxers down enough to free his dick. You wrap your hand around his shaft and he hisses, head dropping back against the headrest, which makes you chuckle, swollen lips upturned in a small smirk. You run your thumb over the crown, catching the pre-cum leaking from his slit. With your eyes still on his, you bring your hand up to stick your thumb in your mouth, sucking at it generously as your tongue licks at the salty substance.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy forces out. He squeezes your hips and pulls you toward him, and when your clit slides against his dick, you squeal. This makes him smirk and, now the one in control, he repeats the motion, causing you to pant at the slightest pressure to your increasingly sensitive clit. You thought you’d be able to tease him more and get him back for that but you’re already on the verge of cumming and he’s not even inside you yet.

You lift your hips and position him at your entrance, and you moan as you sink down onto him. It doesn’t take you very long to start moving, aching for more friction. Billy keeps his hands on your hips as you bounce, eyes drinking you in—the way your hair cascades down your back, brushing against your bare skin; the way your chest heaves; the way your stomach tenses as you try to hold back your orgasm, wanting just a little bit more. He dips his head to run his lips over your breasts.

When your breaths start to quicken he knows you’re right at the edge, so he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you steady before he bucks his hips, thrusting into you harder. Your eyes clench shut as you fall forward against him, screaming at the force of your climax which has you seeing stars. Even as you start to come down from it, he’s still thrusting, chasing after his own orgasm, and the only noises to leave your mouth are a series of pants and whimpers, your oversensitive pussy clenching around him. That’s what pushes him over, and he cums with a drawn out groan.

The two of you stay that way for a few minutes, trying to regain your breaths. Eventually Billy lifts you gently to slide you off him, and you whine quietly at the sensation. Another few minutes goes by and then you’re dressing yourselves again. It takes you a bit longer since you need to put everything back on. You have to search the interior for everything except your panties, which had landed on the dashboard and were easy to spot. As you slide your bra on, you glance down to find purple marks littered across your breasts. You sigh and only half-playfully shove at Billy’s shoulder. He furrow his brows in confusion as he buttons his jeans but when he sees the darkening marks, he smirks.

“I said no marks,” you state.

He shrugs. “Heat of the moment. Besides, they’re not visible.”

You’re too tired to argue.

———

Billy drives you back into town, pulling in right next to your car. You grab the plastic bag of snacks and your purse from the back before opening the door and getting out. When you open the driver’s side to your car, you toss the bags over to the passenger seat.

“Nice talk,” Billy speaks up so you can hear him. You look back at him and that cheeky smile and with a small smile of your own, you flip him off. He laughs, and your bruised lips curve up a little more at the sound.

———

It takes a while to decide what movie to watch first. You and Steve spend a bit of time arguing, claiming that your choices were better for one reason or another. The debate ends with a coin-flip: Steve’s choice of film wins.

You settle back on the couch, delighting in the soft cushions. You’re only half-paying attention to the previews, and Steve glances over at you, noting how tired you are. “You look tired. What’d you get up to today?”

You look over at your brother and wonder if he might know, if he’s just asking to see if you would tell the truth. And you’re worried for the briefest of moments because if he finds out, he’ll go ballistic on Billy, and while you don’t like him all that much either, he certainly doesn’t deserve that when you had wanted it just as much as he did. But there’s nothing in Steve’s eyes which indicates he’s even remotely suspicious—just genuinely curious about how your day has gone. So you sigh and shrug noncommittally, looking back at the television screen. “I’ve been running on low sleep all day. And errand running is hard, okay?”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, and you can’t help but giggle a little too. You both settle down when the movie starts, munching away at your snacks. This is looking to be a great spring break.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things imagine #bubble-tea-bunny

655 notes · View notes

crispychrissy · 6 years

Text

Shifting Friends

Summary: You’re on and off again with Sam, but the elder Winchester always butts heads with you. What happens when you’ve finally had enough? Pairing: Sam Winchester x Shapeshifter!Reader, Dean Winchester Word Count: 1597 Warnings: Language, sexual situation, bit of angst, fighting, sassy reader A/N: After watching the most recent episode, I had this dream. I write down all my dreams and sometimes they turn into fanfics, like this one. Based on the several episodes we’ve had with shapeshifters, I’ve deduced what I believe happens when they shed their skin. I know it might not be accurate, but it’s personal interpretation. Beta’d by the lovely @saxxxology!

“Really, Y/N?! In the bathroom?” Dean’s voice echoed through the halls of the bunker, reaching you and Sam in the library.

You let out a heavy sigh and locked eyes with Sam. “Why can’t Dean be more like you, baby? It never bothers you.”

Sam shrugged and flipped the top of his laptop closed. “I know your schedule, so I avoid the communal bathroom, skip a shower, and use the one in my room.”

“It’s only once a week. Maybe I should just start going outside when it happens,” you said, wrinkling your nose in thought.

“As considerate as that might be, a pile of shifter skin near an abandoned water treatment plant might raise some questions.” Sam sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “The last thing we need is people poking around because someone is skinning people and they end up finding the bunker.”

You were about to reply when a very stern-faced and angry Dean stormed up the stairs to the library. You had this argument at least once a week with the eldest Winchester, and it was getting pretty old since you’ve been living with the Winchesters for over a month now. You and Sam had a purely physical relationship that started less than a week after you moved in, much to Dean’s displeasure.

“You need to do that shit somewhere else, Y/N. I stepped in it!” Dean shuddered in repulsion at the memory. “Do you know how disgusting it is? It felt like I was walking on soggy tofu covered in lube.”

“Well, maybe you should look before you step into the shower stall,” you said quietly before taking a sip of beer.

“That’s it! I’m changing all the door knobs to silver!” Dean shouted, slamming his hand down on the end of the table in the library, causing it to shake.

You jumped up to your feet and took a few steps closer to him. “You wouldn’t dare. Don’t fuck with me, Dean. You learned that the hard way when you kept replacing my metal forks with silver ones. Did you ever get the skin out of your bed sheets?”

You smirked at Dean’s obviously disgusted expression as he remembered when you’d left him a nice souvenir in his bed after he continued to prank you with silver.

Dean looked down at Sam with his mouth open and just gestured to you. “Sam? A little help here?”

Sam shrugged and raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t have a problem with Y/N. She’s helped us several times on a lot of cases since she moved in.”

“And I’ve helped you mess with Cas,” you laughed, “nothing like a confused Angel.”

You saw a smile twitch at Dean’s lips when he thought about when you shapeshifted into Meg and started making out with him. Castiel was a pretty good kisser for an angel and had very soft lips which surprised you.

Dean shook his head and frowned at you again. “No, as funny as it was, it’s still gross. Can’t you shift somewhere else or actually explain it? I mean, you can change forms as many times as you like without having to shed your skin, why do you have to do it once a week?”

You leaned against the edge of the table and took a deep breath. “You guys are the hunters, you figure it out.”

“Humor me.”

“Fine,” you retorted, “when I shift forms, the skin of the person I was gets buried under my current skin. Imagine painting a wall over and over again with different layers of paint. After a while, the layers get heavy. Same thing happens to me. The skin I shed is actually dozens of layers of skin from previous people I’ve been.”

“Gross,” Dean grimaced. “So the form you’re in now, is that some random person?”

You stretched your arms out and looked down at your body, shaking your head. “No, this is how I was born. My mother was able to suppress my natural urge to shift when I was growing up with the help of some kind of witchy tea. Once I was old enough to understand what was happening, she helped me control it. The perks of a pureblood, I guess.” You looked at Dean and furrowed your brow. “Why all the sudden interest in me?”

Dean shrugged and tore his eyes away from your skin-tight halter top. “No reason. You’re the one who’s been around for a month and hasn’t said anything.”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy having to watch my ass just in case you decide to prank me by stabbing me with a silver knife.” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised a defiant eyebrow at Dean.

Dean scoffed. “You’re too useful to kill, sweetheart. Don’t flatter yourself.”

All you saw was red at Dean’s remark and that was the last straw. You walked over and grabbed a hold of his arm, absorbing his genetic info and body structure through your touch. His eyes went wide when he saw what you were doing and he tore his arm from your grasp.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dean hissed through gritted teeth.

You flashed him an evil smirk as your body began to shimmer and change. Your natural eyes were replaced with Dean’s deep green ones and you began to gain a few inches of height as your face and clothing changed. Within a few seconds, you had completely shifted into Dean.

“Get out of me!” Dean yelled, grabbing your - or rather his - shoulders.

“I bet that’s not the first time a chick has yelled that at you, is it, Dean?” You closed your eyes and began to browse through his memories.

You knew Dean and Sam had been through a lot, but you weren’t ready for the amount of shit that you saw. From Dean watching Sam die, to his father dying, to losing almost all of his friends, all the way to him torturing and cutting apart souls in Hell. You opened your eyes and searched out Dean’s.

You felt your eyes begin to burn with tears as you locked eyes with Dean. His expression softened slightly when he realized you must have linked memories with him and saw all of the dark things he’s seen.

“Not pretty is it, Y/N?” He said softly.

“No, but I can also see the good things. You shouldn’t feel so bad, Dean. We’ve all made choices that affect other people, and nobody should be carrying around this amount of guilt. You’ve got Sam and Cas, and they both love you,” you stepped closer to him, “and do you want to know a secret?

He raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“I love you, too.” You smiled at him as his eyes went wide. “I was always the freak when I was growing up. I was terrified of accidentally shifting in front of people so I had to keep my distance. I had no friends and rarely left my house besides going to school. Nothing hurts worse than being lonely, believe me. You’re not alone, Dean… and although you’re an asshole and keep pranking me, it makes me feel welcome. It makes me feel accepted.”

Dean cleared his throat and you could tell he was trying not to get emotional. He looked down at the ground and shifted on his feet.

“Yeah, whatever. Easier said than done.” Dean looked up at you. “Can you just… like… wash out the shower after you shift or something? So at least it’s not as gooey?”

You smiled and nodded. “Truce?”

Dean grumbled, but he nodded. “Yeah, truce. Just please, change back to your normal body. It’s weird talking to myself.”

“Not your first time, though. Zachariah sent you to the future and you met yourself. Interesting…” You trailed off and closed your eyes, concentrating on the memory. “Aww, stoner Cas was adorable.”

You heard Dean groan and start to walk away when you focused on a specific part of the memory and opened your eyes. He was halfway through the war room when you opened your mouth.

“Holy shit, did you really wear pink satin panties?”

Sam choked on his gulp of beer and Dean turned around so you could see the slight pink hue of a blush creep up on his cheeks. You shot him a knowing look and started laughing.

“Hey, nothing to be ashamed of, Dean. I have a nice pair of blue ones if you ever wanted to borrow them and relive your glory days.” You were laughing pretty hard, and Sam was trying to hold back his laughter as well.

Dean turned around and quickly started walking toward the doorway to the kitchen. “Get out of my head, woman!”

You shook your head as Dean disappeared into the hallway and looked over at Sam, who finally allowed himself to laugh.

“Hey Sam,” you purred and leaned down to him, “wanna see those blue panties yourself?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he shifted uncomfortably. “Uhhh, Y/N,” he cleared his throat, “please change out of my brother before you say stuff like that. I’m really creeped out.”

“Oh, my bad.” You let go of the connection between you and Dean and allowed your body to relax and shift back to your normal form. You wiggled slightly as you got used to your new layer of skin and put your hands on your hips. “Better?”

“Much. Let’s go see those panties.” He grabbed your arm and dragged you with him down the hallway toward his room.

Tags: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @ididntasktogetmadedidi @trashimaginezblog @jensen-gal @spnbaby-67 @feelmyroarrrr @donnaintx @potterhead1265 @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @sis-tafics @kittenofdoomage @ilostmyshoe-79 @sofreddie @eyes-of-a-disney-princess

#sam x reader #shapeshifter reader #monster reader #reader insert #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam x yn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #fluff #angst #sassy reader #description of what shapeshifter skin feels like? lol #implied smut

318 notes · View notes

thewalkingdeadimaginings · 7 years

Text

Taming Her Part 2: Her Name

Taming Her part 2--GIRL DO A SECOND PART TO TAMING HER!!! like were Dwight and some of the other members make fun of her when she's learning to speak and spell and ANGRY NEGAN!!

ANOTHER SEQUEL!! 😊 And another Negan one shot too! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Haha I’m nearly through with my backed up one shots and I can get to my current ones much, much quicker. AND HOPEFULLY MORE UPDATES OF NO REGRETS AND BEAUTY OF A SECRET TOO. Also, this is another one shot where I hope you don’t mind I gave this character a name instead of using the usual Y/N. A name just popped up when I thought of this character so thanks for understanding haha :P

As usual, if you’re new here and haven’t read part one to Taming Her, click the link HERE and then come back and read part two! This is the last sequel I’ve been requested to do but if any of you have any one shots you’d love to see a part two for (or a part three to any existing sequels) just let me know 😊

TRIGGER WARNING: the use of the word “retard.” I personally am not offended by the word. With my brother being severely autistic with mental retardation, I’m not really thinking too much about the word BUT I do know some people might find the word upsetting so I just want everyone to be aware that the word is used in this one shot just in case some of you do find it upsetting.

Ever since the girl had said thank you to Negan, she’d gone quiet once more. It wasn’t surprising to him actually. She didn’t know how to communicate with the world around her anymore and no one really knew how to accommodate her. She isolated herself in the private quarters Negan had given her. Normally, he’d toss someone like her into the masses and make her earn points to get what she wanted or needed but he felt an attachment to her. He wasn’t sure what it was but he figured it could be worth pursuing.

If only he could get her to communicate.

Dwight and countless others, annoyed and bitter about the special treatment this girl had been getting kept telling Negan that she needed to start pulling her own weight. Negan knew the girl could handle any task he gave her. She’d snuck up on him, actually gave him a nosebleed and a black eye. She was tough. But she couldn’t even tell anyone her name. How was she expected to do work right now? Or perhaps he just wanted to be selfish and have her to himself.

The girl stuck to Negan most of the time anyway, probably because he was the only one who talked to her even though she couldn’t respond with more than a few positive or negative gestures and facial expressions. Some walked by like she was wallpaper, or they poked fun at her when she wasn’t around. Negan hadn’t actually seen that happen but Sherri had told him about it. If he saw anyone making fun of the girl, he’d shut that down with force.

Over the next few days, the girl was regaining her strength, getting some meat on her bones and some light in her eyes. She was a lot calmer and goddammit she was stunning. Negan just wished he could hear more than just that one “thank you” she’d given him before.

The two of them were eating breakfast together one morning. Negan preferred that she eat alone with him after he heard about a few people making fun of her. It might’ve been a bad idea to hide her from all the inconsiderate assholes but Negan just wanted to protect her for now.

“So, I was thinking,” Negan said to her, “I still don’t know your name. And…you’ve been here a few weeks. You’d say you’re comfortable here, right?”

The girl smiled and nodded. Negan beamed as he placed his large hand over her dainty one, “I’m glad. Maybe we could start trying to relearn how to communicate. What do you think?”

Her smile faded and she looked down at her lap, unsure and anxious. Her hand twitched underneath his. Negan wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing it to get her eyes back on him, “It’s gonna be okay. We can start small, ya know? Like uh…we can relearn how to write. Sound simple enough?”

The girl took a deep breath and after a pause, she slowly nodded. Negan got up and grabbed a notebook and a pencil, pushing their food aside so he could teach her. It took her a while to pick up on it since it had been so long. He couldn’t imagine what she’d been through in her life to make her end up in this state of mind. How long had she been in those woods? Had someone hurt her during her travels? Was this just a result of trauma? He wanted to ask but it might be rude. She might not even know the answer to that.

By mid-afternoon, the girl was writing basic sentences, just some responses to simple questions to make communication somewhat easier for her while she learned everything else. Negan closed the notebook and handed it off to her.

“That’s enough for today,” he declared, “Don’t wanna overwhelm you, darlin’. Can practice in your room if you want though.”

“I-I…” the girl began, clutching the notebook against her chest as she struggled to make the next few words, “I-I-I…w-w-w-wi…will. Th-thank you.”

“You’re learning fast,” Negan chuckled, “Maybe one of these days I can know your name.”

The girl nodded and leaned in to kiss his cheek. With her notebook still held tightly against her chest, she got up from the table and pointed to the door, “B-be-bedroom.”

“Of course,” Negan replied, “You’ve done a lot today. You do need your rest.”

The girl came back every morning to write more and more. She eventually started carrying her notebook around so she could communicate with everyone else. Most of them were happy that she was able to respond to questions and she seemed a lot happier too. But as Sherri had told Negan before, others weren’t as kind.

“Grown ass adult and can’t even talk,” one man said. Dwight chuckled when his friend spoke and it just urged the man to continue, “You a retard or somethin’ girl? The fuck is wrong with you?”

The girl cringed, shaking her head but too flustered to even attempt to say anything. Dwight scoffed, lightly nudging his friend, “Think she might be, man. Hey, since she can’t even say her name, maybe her name should just be Retard, how ‘bout that?”

She took a few steps away, shaking her head again as tears spilled from her eyes. The two men followed her and she started swinging her notebook at them, the animalistic side of her slowly reaching the surface, “N-n-no! G-get away!”

“Look,” Dwight’s friend said, “It speaks!”

Just then, the girl’s miracle came abruptly as the door slammed open and Negan rushed in, pulling on her arm and shielding her with his body. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard from behind that door. The other man wasn’t so shocking but Dwight? Dwight was supposed to be his right hand man. He thought Dwight knew better. He was out for blood now, ready to kill these two. Seeing the terror and stress in the girl’s teary eyes was too much on his heart. Seeing the hurt look on the girl’s face tore him up inside.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Negan boomed, pushing Dwight and his friend down onto the ground, “You think it’s funny that she’s struggling? You think calling her a retard is funny? Why don’t we see what I think is funny?”

It was Dwight and his friend’s turn to be frightened and Negan soaked it in. He wasn’t sure if he was going to kill them or just beat them until they wished he would. In that moment, he didn’t care. He needed to make an example of them so everyone here would know to never hurt the girl again.

As Negan got his bat ready to swing at the men, he felt a delicate tug on his leather jacket. He turned around to see the girl standing behind him, shaking her head desperately, “D-d-don’t…don’t…do it. Just…just let…them…” she waved her hand away to finish her sentence, “P-please…N…Negan.”

Negan’s expression softened when the girl said his name. The sound of her voice, although broken, soothed him, made him feel at peace. It was almost as beautiful as the rest of her. He turned to face the girl, “Dwight, get your friend the hell outta my sight. And you stay away from her from now on, are we clear?”

“Yes, Negan,” Dwight replied quickly before scurrying off with his friend. Negan wrapped his arms around the girl, gently stroking her hair. Her body relaxed in his arms, slowly wrapping her arms around him. She ran her hand up and down his back, her head rested on his chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her first complete sentence without a struggle. Negan couldn’t believe how strongly he felt for this girl and he didn’t even know her name. The girl lifted her head, as if reading his mind, “M…my…my…name.”

“You can tell me now?”

“Y…yes.”

Negan smiled, cupping the girl’s face in his hands, “Let’s hear it, darlin’. What’s your name?”

The girl’s lips curled in a smile, licking her lips as she put all her focus into giving Negan her name. She took a deep breath, “My…My name i-is…is…N-N-Natasha.”

“Natasha,” Negan chuckled, pushing her hair off her shoulders, “That’s a perfect name.”

She wrapped her arms around Negan’s shoulders, standing up on her toes to pull him in for a kiss. Negan sucked in his breath, surprised by her boldness but accepting it anyway, squeezing her body tighter in his arms.

“I…I think…I think I…like you,” she mumbled against his lips, “A lot.”

“With a kiss like that, I should hope so,” Negan said with a laugh. She still had so much to learn but he knew she trusted him and that made him so happy. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made his heart this happy, “I like you too, Natasha. A lot.”

YAY I FINISHED THIS IN ONE DAY SO I DON’T STAY UP LATER THAN I SHOULD POSTING THIS. Hope you enjoyed this sequel you guys!!! 😊

#The Walking Dead #TWD #The walking dead imagines #TWD imagines #the walking dead fanfiction #TWD fanfiction #one shot #fanfiction #Negan #Negan Imagines #Negan one shot #Negan fanfiction

78 notes · View notes

cottoncandiiix · 6 years

Text

yoongi/jimin; no, i don’t want it but thank you.

► Pairing: Yoongi/Jimin ► Rating: PG ► Genre: fluff ► Words: 1,410 ► Summary: if jimin says he doesn't want it, he doesn't want it. really. ► AO3

“what in the freaking world is this?”

“hm?” yoongi takes his eyes off the road to have a quick glance at the boy sitting at the front passenger seat next to him, just to see that jimin is scowling at something on his phone screen.

“hyung, i was talking about this figure, this.” his voice clearly sounds irritated so yoongi has to look at him once again as soon as the light turns red and after he already pulls the handbrake.

“what figure?”

yoongi might be frowning right now but that doesn’t mean he is annoyed with jimin, of course not. it’s just because from where he’s seated he couldn’t properly have a nice view of the screen in jimin’s tiny hands so he obviously has zero idea of what figure that jimin is talking about.

but he does know for sure that jimin is a figure maniac, there’s even a display cabinet in their apartment which normally used for showing awards, family pictures or beautiful pieces of art or something like that, but for jimin, it’s his haven, his sanctuary filled with figures, figmas and nendoroids with various sizes and various sources.

at first yoongi absolutely knew nothing about this area, but if one asks him right now, one would think that yoongi is working or relating in this field. in fact, yoongi inevitably and eventually has learned all of those things just by dating and living with jimin. besides, more than 40% in said cabinet were from his credit card.

“look, hyung, this is so uninteresting, its posture is so boring and the color is so bland don’t you think? here, take a close look at it hyung so that you will not buy it for me later because i don’t want it at all and have no interest in it.”

yoongi lips twitches, amused, because everything jimin just said was the opposite of what he really thought. he said he didn’t want it, at all. sureeeeee. but his phone screen is a mere centimeter from yoongi’s nose right now. jimin’s eyes also twinkling in anticipation. no interest my ass.

“oh. okay. so what is this figure you really really don’t want.” yoongi smile his usual soft, fond and little smile he reserves just for only jimin and unnecessarily adds. “at all.”

“this, is 1/6 scale kyro ren figure by hot toys, gosh, it’s 264,000 won, what the hell? just by its price alone makes me wanna judge it so hard. quality? what’s quality. just so so. not cool at all, not worth any milli or micro space in my cabinet.” his nose scrunches in distaste (which is fake) while pulling his phone back as fast as when he first shoving it at yoongi’s nose. if yoongi’s eyes work properly, that is jimin’s favorite and usual website for pre-order and order those figures.

huh.

if jimin’s already checking those details including the price, then it’s only mean that he’s already in too deep. fully anticipate. jimin can keep denying all he wants but yoongi knows better. so he only smiles and tries to contain his laughter. he even clearly sees right through this kid’s transparent head and knows that jimin is starting to picture where is the best place to put that figure on in his cabinet.

“uh-huh. i see.” no, he didn’t. “but i think it’s pretty cool though, his red saber looks so sick. and this is hot toys you’re talking about.”

jimin’s eyes widened comically. (and so fake it’s so damn cute.)

“hyung, no, nothing about it is cool even if it’s hot toys. and that red saber? huh. just a little pvc stick that can light up when you put the battery on, nothing special. no one would want this badass-sith-wanna be-villain on their display cabinet. do not buy it, mark my word hyung, do not buy it.”

the point is, after they went to the cinema to watch the first installment of sequel trilogy of that epic franchise together 2 years ago, jimin couldn’t stop fanboy-ing over everything related to it. even took advantage of yoongi’s very extremely soft spot for his puppy eyes and (not really)tricked yoongi to buy him rc bb-8 droid and many other things.

so those repeating ‘do not buy it’ and ‘i don’t want it’ actually have one and only meaning, ‘i want to add this kylo ren hyung-nim in my star wars collection so bad i could cry a river in your car this moment and i know you love your car (less than me of course) and don’t want it to be flooded with my tears so please buy it for me hyung i love you <3’.

as a good boyfriend, yoongi nods dutifully in agreement, he has an urge to pinch jimin’s button nose but he still has a car to drive them back home carefully so he takes note to himself to do more than that later.

“okay. whatever you say jimin-ah.”

“yoongi hyung, see, his helmet looks so stupid i want to laugh. my silly bucket hat taetae gave me last year still looks hotter than this.”

“yeah? i really want to see how stupid it is but i’m sorry i can’t look at it right now.” yoongi flashes his gummy smile apologetically at his grumble boyfriend.

“it’s alright hyung, i will copy url of this page and send it to your kakao—oh and i’m gonna capture this screen too—send and done! to be further information that emphasize my disinterest in it.” he shrugs coolly.

and that’s when yoongi finally loses it, damn his boyfriend. damn. he laughs so loud that even the man in the car beside his can hear.

“oh my god, jimin, okay i believe you. i really do. truly do. and i will try to remember that i don’t need to buy it for you ‘cuz you really hate his stupid helmet, yeah?”

“that’s right!” jimin rewards him with his iconic smile that comes with crescent moon eyes. this boy knows what he’s doing. and he absolutely knows how much yoongi loves that smile. “i don’t want it. i’ve already got rey and bb-8 and you brought me finn and poe last christmas. so, about this kylo ren guy, nah, he isn’t one of ‘em so no need of him in my display cabinet, yeah. this figure, this one, especially this one, don’t you dare buy it for me or else i will sulk alone in the corner of our bedroom! you hear me?”

“alright, alright. i hear you loud and clear, jiminie doesn’t want kylo ren figure. sure thing, you don’t need it and no one gonna buy it for you i promise.” yoongi chuckles then ruffles jimin’s hair.

“don’t surprise me with it too! eventhough there’s christmas next month. just forget it okay?”

“of course. no surprise and there won’t be kylo ren figure in your sock as christmas present.”

after they do pinky promise, jimin finally closes that web page and just happily texting with taehyung, while yoongi peacefully driving them home.

sweet jesus…

all yoongi can do is sigh fondly.

he’s a well-known producer who continuously (and successfully) has been producing more than good tracks for many singers in this industry for years and has working his ass off like this said lower part of him was on fire, as if he has a good amount of debt to pay. but who would have guess that this calm and stoic producer is just a simple whipped man, so so so totally and completely whipped by his boyfriend. his boyfriend who’s sometimes too much to handle but also too adorable that his already soft heart softened.

- + -

while any normal couples giving each other bouquets of nice flowers or nice teddy bears or nice rings or other pretty nice things in christmas, yoongi just bringing a box of 264,000 won 1/6 scale kyro ren figure back at their apartment for his boyfriend who’s already cleared some space in his cabinet for it to be placed there, center of those other star wars figure.

just because of that bright happy smile and a bunch of sweeter than caramel kiss at both of his cheeks and his lips, yoongi is more than ready to order all of figure jimin says he ‘doesn’t want’ in that website.

“of course i still doesn’t need this, but, love you yoongi hyung.”

“love you too brat.”

#yoonmin #jimin #yoongi #my fics

3 notes · View notes