#writer's group dude: hey want to come to a party at my place tonight?

[lordsardine]

.

#writer's group dude: hey want to come to a party at my place tonight? #me: sure! #him: full disclosure we'll be smoking pot #me: nevermind! #miscellaneous #hey i was invited so #honestly i was planning on taking the night to myself and video chatting my friend so. not a huge wrench in the plans lol #that and i was social tuesday - thursday #ive been inivted to three parties via this group now and had to miss two before because i was traveling or my parents were here.... #so..... One day #i just. i dont mind if people drink around me (socially. i dont like people downing shots) but pot... i just can't fucking stand the smell #trying to be a full fledged adult once again foiled by me being a lame ass

[justkending]

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody...

                              1700 Follower Drabble!

A/N: Oh goodness gracious!! I’ve hit 1700 beautiful and loving followers. Everyone of you bringing more and more light into my world:’) In honor of you all helping me fulfill my dream as a writer and supporting me along the way, here is a little drabble for all you sweet humans. I can’t thank you enough, and I can’t express my love for each of you enough as well... 

-So, I stole from my prompt list on an old challenge I did and created a drabble of my own with them! Hope you enjoy my lovelies<3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5000+

Prompts:

“I actually did my hair for the first time in 3 months. I think I deserve a medal for this. “

“Dude, it’s 3 in the morning.”

____________

The banging was loud and profusely consistent as Y/N sat up from sleep with a groan. She sent a death glare to the door as if it was the culprit to waking her, but she knew it was one of her teammates that would soon be dead...

“What?!” she said bitterly, quickly tearing open the door. 

Bucky was on the other side with a slick grin showing his amusement to the situation. Her hair disheveled from sleep and eyes filled with hatred, but the sports bra and tight sleep shorts were doing something for her in her annoyed state.

“Mission. Be in the helicarrier in bay 3 in 20 minutes,” he said with a smirk before turning in his step to walk away.

“Dude, it’s 3 in the morning!” she shouted after him.

“Evil doesn’t sleep,” he responded without looking back.

All he heard from behind him was a strangled groan mixed with a muffled scream as she went back in her room and slammed the door. 

____________

The last to board the helicarrier, Y/N walked in throwing her things to the side, and sat in a seat immediately falling to her side to fall asleep again.

“Wake up, Y/N. We have to do a briefing,” Bucky said, slapping her boot. 

“I swear to God. Do you have a deathwish?” she growled, begrudgingly sitting up and rubbing her eyes. 

“Really not a morning person this one,” Nat laughed coming around the corner. Y/N sending her a glare as well, but not nearly as deadly as the one she saved specifically for Bucky. “Come on. We’ll make it quick, and then we have a 4 hour flight. You can sleep then,” she nodded toward the briefing area of the giant plane. 

Taking a deep breath she stood up following the rest of the team with Bucky behind her. 

“Cicely Rosmarie DeLuca. Daughter of Ramone DeLuca who is a well known crime boss in Italy. Seems to run in the family as Cicely has taken over the control of her family's business within the last 2 years,” Steve explained pulling up pictures on the screen as everyone sat with informational packets on the group in front of them.

“Since when did we start handling crime bosses?” Sam spoke up.

Everyone who had been on this particular mission included; Nat, Sam, Bucky, Steve, Y/N, and Wanda. So if this many Avengers were needed, clearly something much bigger than just crime bosses were involved. 

“Because the DeLuca’s are working with a division group of Hydra. We think they aren’t really in it for what Hydra wants, but more so gaining the alli and making some money on the side,” Steve sighed. “It looks like they have a means to steal plans that could wreak havoc on confidential equipment that we have in the works. Stuff that could easily be modified to become world wide dangers.”

“I have an idea,” Y/N spoke up. The whole crew turned to her. “Let’s just stop creating things that can destroy planet Earth. I feel like that’s a healthy start to creating the safe environment we’ve been fighting so hard to preserve over all these years.” The grin on her face was big and sarcastic and quickly dropped to a bitch face. 

“You can’t help but be a smartass all hours of the day, can you sweetheart?” Bucky groaned a few seats ahead of her. The pet name only there because he knew how much it annoyed her.

“And you can’t help but be a nuisance to my life all hours of the day, can you jackass?” she retorted. 

“You guys. Focus,” Steve interrupted, sending the two his Captain look. “You’re going to have to get along for this mission because we’re going undercover, and we only have one night to get this right.”

“Undercover how?” Wanda asked. 

“There’s a gala in Venice. From what we’ve gathered, the information will be swapped there. We need to hunt it down discreetly and capture the agents working with Hydra. From there, we’ll bring them in for questioning and figure out where exactly they are getting their information from. We believe we have a spy within our facility that’s leaking all the confidential knowledge.”

“And if these Hydra agents happen to do what Hydra does best and kill themselves before we can get anything out of them, then what?” Y/N asked. 

“Ever the optimist,” Bucky mumbled. No one else paid mind to it, but Y/N kicked the back of his chair making him turn and send yet another glare at her.

“We’ve prepared for that,” Steve said, nodding to Nat to go to the next slide. “We have devices, drugs, and antidotes in case cyanide becomes involved. The capsules of drug and equipment being used incapacitates them long enough to get them back to our base and keep in holding. From there, we will take other precautions to keep them from doing anything stupid that involves cyanide. Again, we don’t know if that will be the case, but with our history with Hydra, they have yet to prove us wrong.”

“So basically, you’re bringing us to go to a party to roofie Hydra agents. I gotta say, not what I was expecting from our high tech division,” Y/N nodded with a small laugh.

“It’s the best way to keep discrete and not cause a scene or hopefully any fatalities at the gala. They are using a charity for cover, and I rather not actual good people get hurt in the end,” Steve sighed. “Now, we land in 3 and a half hours. Once landed get your gear ready, look over your profiles, and get prepared for the gala. Like I said we are going undercover, so look your best.”

“This doesn’t happen to be a black tie gala, does it?” Bucky asked. 

“What gala isn’t?” Sam retorted. 

“Suits are already ready to go in the other room. Ladies, our dresses are in section 11 of the ship,” Nat explained, standing and gathering her things. “Y/N, that means you're going to figure out how to walk in heels,” she smirked. 

“I think we’ll need more time than you’re giving us for that to ever be convincing,” Bucky snickered. Sam laughed too. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up. I’ve done missions like this before. Just because I don’t wear an evening gown everyday, doesn’t mean I can’t pull one off,” she stood, walking by and flicking the back of Bucky’s head. 

Her, Nat, and Wanda leaving the room while Bucky held the crown of his head in vexation. 

“Son of a-” he started going to stand and retaliate. 

“Buck, I’m going to need you to pull it together for one night,” Steve said, cutting him off from his path to harass Y/N. “You and Y/N are teammates. So either put on a face or suck it up for the night.”

“I’m not the one you need to be telling that too. The she-witch in there is going to be the one to mess it up if any of us,” Bucky argued.

“Y/N is a well trained spy and the best marksman on the team as of right now. She will do her job and you’ll do yours. You have to let the petty fighting go for one night, ok?”

“Come on Cap. You know it’s more than just petty arguments. Bucks gotta crush,” Sam said singing the last words.

With wide eyes, Bucky turned to Sam. “I do not! She’s nothing but an annoying headache added to my life... Scratch that. Migraine.”

“That’s what someone with a crush would say,” Sam said with a grin and squinted eyes. 

“I don’t have a-” Bucky started.

“Hey Cap. Nat needs you real quick,” Y/N said poking her head back in. Everyone turned to her as if they just got caught doing an illegal act and stayed silent. “Did I walk in on something?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I’ll be there in a second.” 

She nodded before giving everyone a furrowed eyebrow in confusion as she left. “Weirdos,” she mumbled walking away.

Steve let out a deep sigh. “Just behave yourself tonight. If you do, Y/N will too.” He walked to leave the room. 

“Yeah, right,” Bucky scoffed. 

“Yeah, your 100% smitten,” Sam laughed walking past him out of the room.

“No, I’m not!”

__________________

The time had come. Everyone was prepared. Lookouts were in their designated spots, any tech that was being used was up and live, and everyone was about to meet at the Gala. 

“Ok, Nat, you’re with me tonight. Sam and Wanda you two will be with each other. And Bucky and Y/N, you two will be partners as well,” Steve explained over the coms. 

All the women had arrived just a few minutes later and the men were already scoping out the place.

“Wait, what?” Bucky responded back. Sam standing next to him.

“Oh, he definitely did that on purpose,” Sam chuckled. 

“Why the hell would he? We don’t work well together,” Bucky groaned, looking around for her. 

“Well, you better figure it out. At least for tonight,” Sam patted his back, taking a champagne glass from the passing waiter and moving to find his chosen partner. 

Bucky rolled his eyes into another dimension thinking about the all annoying arguments that he was sure would be apart of the night.

“Fine, Y/N what are you wearing?” Bucky asked in the comms.

“James, I’m flattered, but I don’t really like you in that way,” her sass came back through the ear piece. 

“Steve,” Bucky groaned. 

“Guy’s stop it. Y/N tell Bucky what you're wearing so we can start this mission. We don’t have all night,” Steve instructed with irritation. 

“A black dress,” she sighed. 

“Wow, real descriptive. Let me just search through all 500 of them I see,” Bucky said sarcastically. 

“I’m by the rip off Vincent van Gogh painting on the east side. Next to the waterfall,” she explained. 

Bucky took a deep breath walking over in her direction. It was a really crowded place, so maneuvering through people to find her became difficult. That was until he reached the fountain she was talking about, and the people had thinned out some. 

Glancing all around, he couldn’t pick her out from all the black dresses he’d seen. 

“Y/N, where the hell are you?” he whisper shouted in the comms. No answer. “Of fucking course no answer,” he said to himself. 

But upon sharper inspection, he noticed her face in the distance. 

And holy shit. 

That did not look like the Y/N he was used to. I mean it did, but she was usually a natural beauty. Not that she wasn’t right now, but done up the way she was was a whole different kind of beauty. 

Her dress was a black off the shoulder evening gown. The middle section of it was a see through mesh, and the top part of it looked as if it she had a bra on full display. Only bringing more attention to her perfectly modeled torso. Her hair was done in an elegant, but messy, kind of braid. The whole ensemble flowing together and creating an refined and formal Y/N that Bucky had never got the chance before tonight to see. 

Having looking that stunning, Bucky wasn’t surprised to see the men around her glance her way. However, the man that was only a few feet into her space and talking up a storm looked to be making Y/N uncomfortable. She had on a fake smile trying not to bring attention to herself, but disgust to the older and space invading man, was showing in her eyes.

Quickly, Bucky maneuvered to her.

“There you are, doll,” he smiled widely at her, putting his arm out and wrapping it around her waist as he pulled her side into him. “I must have gone to the wrong fountain looking for you,” he winked. 

As if in instinct, she leaned into his side and brought her hand to his chest lightly patting it. 

“Oh dear, you and your directionally challenged self. I can’t take you anywhere,” she laughed in a surprisingly domestic way. 

“Oh, is this your-?” the older, and now looking at him closer, creepy man started looking Bucky up and down. 

“My date, yes,” she answered. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some other friends that we were supposed to be meeting with,” she patted Bucky’s chest. “Right, honey?”

Lost while staring down at Y/N, he didn’t answer right away, but when he looked back at the old man who had a suspicious look on his face, he snapped out of it. 

“Uh, yes. If you’ll excuse us,” he said offering his arm, which she took and intertwined herself into him. 

They walked away quickly before the man could say anything else and once a good distance away, Y/N let out a deep sigh. 

“Take it you weren’t the one that approached him?” Bucky chuckled. 

“99% of the time it’s not the woman doing the approaching. It’s the sexually frustrated, overcompensating, and egotistic assholes that do,” she shook her head. 

Ok that made him chuckle a little.

“Well, glad I could be of service,” Bucky nodded looking around them. If he was going to stay focused on the mission, he couldn’t be looking at her. She had proven herself to be a distraction for the night while looking like that. 

“Yes, thank you. I would have done something about it, but I don’t think throat punching someone in the middle of a gala would have been normal entertainment for these people,” she said almost in disgust at the crowd around them. All prissy and rich, donating only a 164th of their wealth to try and not come off as greedy. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right. Did you just say… Thank you?” Bucky teased. 

“Don’t push your luck, Barnes,” she countered, but when she looked up at him there was a small smile on her dark maroon lips. A look Bucky had never really been on the receiving end of. 

He returned it in surprise and noticed just how devastatingly gorgeous she looked up close. Had she always been this stunning and Bucky never noticed. Ok, well he had noticed, but with the constant fighting and bickering they did, it was hard to focus on it. 

Without thinking, his thoughts spilled out. “You look very nice tonight,” he said to her. Instantly blushing and looking away.

“A compliment? I didn’t know you knew how to use those,” she gasped teasingly. 

“Don’t push your luck, Y/L/N,” he retorted back. The smile still stuck on his face. 

“Time out. Are we being civil right now?” she asked, halting her steps. Bucky stopped and looked back at her. 

“It’s possible if you just learn how to be less aggravating,” he smirked. 

“There it is. Whew, I was worried we were getting along for a second,” she laughed, continuing their walk.

Bucky hadn’t heard that laugh ever. At least not directed to something he had said. And damn, he liked it. Why the hell did he have to like it?

 “You know? I actually did my hair for the first time in 3 months. I think I deserve a medal for this,” she added. 

“I don’t think they give out medals for that,” Bucky couldn’t help himself, but laugh with her. 

“Well, they should. It took quite a bit of effort. Doing hair could be an olympic spot in itself,” she shrugged. 

“Ok, everyone in their sections?” Steve’s voice came through the comms.

“Good here,” Sam spoke up. 

“We’re set here,” Y/N checked in.

“Great. Keep an eye out for the individuals we’re here for. Y/N, Bucky, you guys keep an eye on the DeLuca’s. If they venture off from the party, it could be the meeting we’re here for. So follow and keep us updated,” Steve instructed. 

“Got it, Cap,” Bucky voiced in. “Alright, shall we mingle?” he asked, looking down at Y/N.

“I mean, if we must,” she deflated some on his arm, but quickly put on a mask straightening and acting as if she went to an event like this every weekend. 

______________

They conversed, they faked life stories with the rich, they drank, and they easily convinced everyone around them they were just another pair of investors. The mission was doing fine other than the fact, nothing suspicious had happened yet. 

The was until, Y/N was getting her 4th drink and Bucky noticed Cicely DeLuca was conversing with someone they had kept an eye on all night. And now, was headed off to another room with them. 

“Y/N,” Bucky said coming up behind her. “They're moving.”

Y/N took a long sip of the wine in her hand. She squinted toward the group and nodded. 

“Ok, let’s get to business,” she nodded, walking straight to them.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted quickly, grabbing her arm before she got to far, and she fell into him some. 

“Oops,” she giggled, stumbling on her feet. 

“Wait a second. Are you drunk?” he asked in a concerned voice. 

“No, no,” she brushed off. Clearing her throat. “No… Ok, a little tipsy, but not drunk,” she waved off. “I lost count of the champagne, and I’m pretty sure they have a high proof brand.”

“Dear God. We're on a mission, Y/N. What were you thinking?!” 

“I was thinking, free alcohol,” she smirked before standing straighter. “No time to talk about it. We need to go.”

She turned and quietly marched to follow. Bucky close behind caught up to her and wrapped a hand her arm.

“You’re a mess. Just let me lead,” he groaned pulling her arm through his and keeping her close.

“You smell good,” she noted. 

He looked down at her and saw she was giving him a soft sincere smile. Really? Out of all times, this is when she decided to make Bucky’s head all fuzzy. 

“Come on,” he sighed, pulling her gently to the corridor the suspicious group disappeared into. 

Discreetly they stayed around the corner and watched the DeLuca’s and guests go into a secluded room. No one else was in the halls but them and a few guards posted at the doors. 

“Shit,” Bucky whispered. 

“What?” Y/N asked peeking her head around to see what Bucky saw, but she peeked out a little too much and the guard heard them. He quickly pulled her back from view.

“Damn it, Y/N,” Bucky whispered to her in a frustrated way. 

He was going to pull her away down another hallway to try and keep from being fully caught, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the guard started to come around the corner. 

Without getting a second to prepare, Y/N crashed her lips into Bucky’s and wrapped her arms around his shoulders behind his neck. A little stunned at first, Bucky froze, but it didn’t take him long to fall into the action with her. He slowly brought his hands around her waist and pulled her flush to him. The kiss hard and frenzied.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be here!” The guard shouted. 

Y/N pulled away and faked shock. 

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry,” she blushed, adding a fake british accent and pushing herself into Bucky in embarrassment. “We were just trying to find a quiet place to… Well, I won’t get too graphic,” she giggled. 

The man who at first had a hard glare on his face eased up and sighed. 

“It’s fine. I’m just going to need you two go back to the party. This section is closed off,” he instructed coming closer. 

“Of course, of course. You’re only doing your job. I get it,” she smiled a captivating and warm smile untangling herself from Bucky who had yet to be able to form a coherent thought since her surprise make out session. “Let me just grab my clutch real fast- Oop!” She dropped the purse that had opened and the contents of it spilling out. “Oh God. I’m such a clutz,” she laughed. The alcohol created a tint of red in her cheeks only making her little act more convincing. 

“Here, let me help,” the large guard offered, bending to help her grap the loose items. 

“Ever the gentleman,” she beamed up at him. Before he knew it though, the tiny bottle of perfume she had in the clutch let out a spritz in his face. 

He coughed at first, but in seconds fell over asleep. Before he could hit the floor with a thud, Bucky moved to ease him down. 

“What the fuck?” Bucky said with wide eyes as he looked back at her. 

“What? I’m doing my job,” she answered, calmly and collectively putting her things back in her clutch and smoothing out her dress. Her behavior was completely different from 2 seconds ago. “Tipsy doesn’t mean I’m completely incompetent.”

The footsteps of the second guard coming around the corner were getting closer. 

“Move him,” Y/N directed before walking toward the other threat. 

By the time Bucky had placed the other man in a closet nearby and turned the corner where Y/N had gone, he saw her dragging the second guard back his way.

“A little help, muscles?” she groaned at the heavy set guy in her hands. 

Bucky quickly did the same with the second guard placing them in closets and blocking the door with a heavy decorative table. 

“Cap, we’re at the meeting room. Both guards taken care of and about to put the listening device on. You ready?”

“Nat?” Steve asked.

“On it”, Nat replied. “Y/N, if you can’t get into the room, stick it to the door. I can get feedback that way too,” she instructed. 

Bucky looked at Y/N. “Where’s the device?” he asked.

“One second,” she exhaled. She placed her hand on his shoulder for support as she lifted her foot and dug out a small mechanism from her heel. “For once, heels are useful in my life,” she sighed, putting her foot back down and activating it. “Keep watch.” She moved to the double doors the suspects were in and placed it on the outside as Bucky kept an eye down the hallway. 

“Why do I feel like a sidekick in this and not an actual agent?” Bucky mumbled. 

“Because you're Robin and I’m the Batman in this scenario, didn’t you know?” she said with a wink and her sarcasm coming back. 

He rolled his eyes before looking back down the hall. 

“Ok, we’re in,” Nat explained. “Sam and Wanda head to their location for stand by in case they need backup.”

“Copy that,” Wanda spoke up. 

They all listened in on the conversation but so far it had just been exchanging casualties and nothing having to do with evil plans. 

“God, talk about a boring party,” Y/N sighed next to Bucky as they waited for something to happen. 

“Wasn’t boring 5 minutes ago,” Bucky thought to himself. 

He couldn’t help but look over to her and study her again. She was focused on the view from the balcony off to the side. You could see the party happening down there, but it was a private spot where the people below couldn’t really see them up where they were.

She fidgeted with the small mesh strap that wrapped around her arms creating the off the shoulder look. Her eyes darting around as if some form of danger was down there and not behind her.

“What are you seeing?” he asked. 

“Don’t know. But something about this seems off,” she said softly. 

“Off how?” he went on. 

“It’s been 5 minutes of small talk and nothing about what we came here for. It’s usually straight to dirty business with these things.” She looked back at him, but the look in his eye wasn’t showing interest in the mission. He looked like he was thinking about something else. Turning back to the balcony she spoke up. “What’s going on in that head of yours Barnes? You catching something I’m not?”

“Why’d you kiss me?” he said bluntly. 

She stiffened and turned back to him. “What?”

“You could of easily just acted drunk and done something with that to throw him off, but you kissed me. And not just a fake, ‘I’m trying to act kiss’ That was a full on kiss,” he said taking a step to her. 

“We’re on a job Bucky. I have to make it as convincing as possible,” she said, but there was a weird hesitancy in her voice. “That or we would have been caught and dealing with two highly trained security guards, possibly causing a ruckus that would have brought attention to us.”

He paused. He was looking too far into it, wasn’t he? He just made an awkward situation out of nothing. 

“Though, I can’t not say you in that suit had something to do with it,” she mumbled to herself, but the super soldier hearing beat out her quiet confession.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bucky grinned shocked and stood behind her. 

“You look good in a suit, ok? It made it a little easier kissing you,” she huffed not making eye contact with him. “Don’t get too big an ego there, bud.”

Though he could come up with about 30 different things to say and push her buttons with that confession, that’s not where his mind went. 

When she turned, not hearing a witty response for the co-worker, she didn’t expect to see him right behind her and almost chest to chest at the movement. 

“What are you-” she started, but looking up into his eyes, she didn’t see irritation this time. No, she saw lust. His eyes dilated to where the blues of his eyes just covered the rims. “Bucky,” she said in a hushed whisper not being able to break her gaze from his lips.

But before she could question him, he lowered himself to her level and connected their lips once again that evening. His hand going from her cheek to behind her neck pulling her in. Her hands at first on his chest nervous at the closeness, but now grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer. 

Frantic and starved was the best way to describe that kiss. As if it had been a long time coming, and tasted oh so much sweeter after marinating all this time. 

They eventually pulled away from the intoxicating and dizzying action. Both of their eyes practically black looking at the other. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Bucky confessed. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said, still trying to catch her breath. 

Breaking the moment up, they heard a crash come from the other side of the doors they were monitoring. 

“Shit,” Y/N said, quickly making haste to the room. Bucky two steps behind her. 

Bucky kicked open the doors and saw Hydra agents pointing their gun at the DeLuca’s. Though their job wasn’t to take care of the crime boss family, no one needed to get hurt. 

The gun quickly turned on Bucky, but before the shot could be made, a knife flew into the man's shoulder causing him to grasp it and fall to the ground in agony.

“Nice shot,” Bucky smirked. 

“Thanks, now focus!” She smiled back before the two went in and a whole fight scene evolved. 

Sam and Wanda were there seconds later, and as if the easiest task in the world, all the bad guys were in the hands of the Avengers.

No one died, and everyone that was needed for questioning was put to sleep somehow and brought back to the helicarrier. 

________________

“Nice work, Y/L/N,” Steve patted her shoulder that hadn’t been injured. 

At some point in the fight, the sleeves she had been fiddling with on her shoulders had restricted her to defend herself from a knife. In the act of cutting her though, it also cut the sash off and Y/N used it to her advantage. She had used the fabric as a way to tie up the man who assaulted her and render him defenseless after some light manipulation with the sash made his weaponless. Crazy the things you can make dangerous when your a trained spy. 

“Thanks Cap,” she smiled, hissing as the nurse on board put a disinfectant on the wounds. 

“Hey, coming out with just one injury is a win when you use a ribbon as your weapon,” Bucky chuckled walking over. Hands in his pockets and a smile taking over his features. 

“You’re not wrong,” she laughed before hissing again at another round of alcohol to the open cut.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but we are going to wrap this up to keep from infection. Let me go grab the gauze,” the nurse informed her, heading to the medical bay. 

“Nice work tonight,” Bucky said, sitting next to her. “I guess working side by side isn’t as horrible as I suspected.”

“Eh, it wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t great,” she said shrugging. Bucky sent her a blank stare and slowly blinked, not amused. “Oh, lighten up. I’m just pulling your leg,” she laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You’re not that bad of a partner.”

He eased up and a soft smile formed on his lips before he looked back down. 

“Listen,” he started. 

“How do you feel about getting coffee when we get back?” she cut him off. 

“What?” Bucky said sitting straighter. 

“Coffee. You know that drink that gives people energy. It’s usually served around breakfast time, but in Europe they actually-”

“I know what coffee is,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m just a little shocked.”

The nurse came back around the corner and motioned for Y/N to come with her. She got up and turned back to Bucky before she followed. 

“You shouldn’t be, considering what happened on that balcony,” she winked, making him blush as she disappeared around the corner. 

“Damn,” Bucky eventually said to himself when he could form a thought. “She’s going to be the death of me…”

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[kmomof4]

State of Emergency: Code White

Here is the third and final part of my State of Emergency universe, originally inspired by the 1997 Tommy Lee Jones movie, Volcano. This picks up about six and a half months after State of Emergency: Future Glimpse, Part 2 of this series. All the love and thanks in the world to @profdanglaisstuff​ for her beta services, @thisonesatellite​ for sharing her earthquake knowledge with me, and @hollyethecurious​ for her listening ear and her assurance that this idea wasn't garbage. And last but certainly not least, @searchingwardrobes​ and @stahlop​ for their help in deciding on a title. I hope you enjoy this conclusion and let me know what you think! Read more link after the first scene, unless Tumblr ate it.

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @branlovestowrite​ @thisonesatellite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Ao3 link

Also muchos love and flails to @captainsjedi​ for her picset for this fic!!! It is so perfect, I can’t even!!!!

August 28, 2021

A squeal that was nearly loud enough to break the windows drew Emma’s attention away from where Killian was checking them into the Hotel Casa del Mar for Graham and Ruby’s wedding the next day. She turned just in time to hold out her arms before Ruby barrelled into her nearly nine months pregnant belly.

“Emma!” she exclaimed, “Look at you!” She grasped Emma’s shoulders and held her away from her, scrutinizing every part of her with an eye that only a best friend of many, many years could accomplish. Apparently satisfied with what she found, Ruby pulled her close and rubbed her tummy all while murmuring to her honorary niece or nephew.

“Hello there, my darling,” she cooed, “How is my little angel today? I hope you didn’t make the drive down too difficult for your mom. I can’t wait to meet you in just a few more weeks.” She ended her questioning monologue with a kiss to the top of her belly. If it had been anyone else, Emma would have introduced them to her fist long before now, but this was Ruby. Her best friend since junior high. Certain privileges came with that kind of longevity.

“I’m fine, too,” she laughed, “Thanks for asking, Ruby.” Ruby rose up laughing at her sarcasm and drawing her close again.

“Ohhh,” she breathed, “I’m so happy to see you! We cannot go three months without seeing each other ever again.”

Killian turned away from the counter with a wide grin before Ruby released Emma and greeted him with an enthusiastic hug as well. “You hear me, Jones?” she asked, pulling away, “Emma and I cannot go three months between seeing each other ever again.”

“Duly noted,” he replied. “Where’s Graham?”

Ruby turned away as her tall, sandy haired fianceé sauntered over to where the three of them still stood. The men greeted each other with a firm handshake before embracing.

“It’s good to see you, mate,” Killian greeted his best friend as Graham returned the sentiment. They moved away from the check in counter, toward the elevators finalizing plans for dinner in a couple of hours. Emma was happy to see everyone, but she was really looking forward to a nice long soak in the whirlpool tub in their room and maybe a nap beforehand. The ride down from Sacramento had been brutal. The whirlpool jets on the tight muscles in her lower back where the achiness had settled would feel like heaven. The normally about five and a half hour drive had taken them nearly nine, with her bladder demands every hour or so and needing to stretch her legs.

They all rode the elevator together, Ruby and Emma keeping their arms around each other the entire way. Finally making it to their rooms, the men had to nearly peel the ladies away from each other.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian cajoled, “that whirlpool tub is waiting.” He waggled his brows suggestively, earning him an eye roll.

“All right, fine,” she whined, releasing Ruby. Ruby immediately stepped into Graham's arms and they turned back toward their worn out friend.

“We’ll see you downstairs at 7:30,” she said. “That should give you enough time for a bath and rest for a little while. Have to make sure you’re taking care of my niece or nephew, ya know.”

Emma and Killian both grinned. “We’ll see you then.”

~*~*~

Emma entered the elevator and stretched her back with a grimace on her face and a soft exhale at the achiness there. Killian was by her side instantly, his hand rubbing circles into the small of her back.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked. “Need another soak in the tub when we get back to the room tonight?”

Emma turned to him with a smile on her face at his concern. “Those jets felt wonderful. Another soak after dinner may be just what the doctor ordered. All those hours in the car, just…” she trailed away with another stretch and quiet groan. “I know you love that car, but we are NEVER traveling out of town in it again.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out to find Killian’s brother Liam and his girlfriend, Elsa already waiting. Liam was an Anglican priest and would be performing the ceremony the next day. Elsa, while not a bridesmaid, had been welcomed into the group when she and Liam had started dating last spring and so she was invited to enjoy all the festivities with the wedding party. They were still sharing hugs and greetings when Mary Margaret and David and then the bride and groom arrived.

They moved the party to one of the best seafood places in Santa Monica. Right on the water, it served steak and fresh out of the ocean seafood. It had been a favorite when she had lived here and she had informed Ruby that she was resigning as Matron of Honor if they didn’t eat there sometime over the weekend. She may not be able to eat any shellfish, but she could still have her filet mignon.

The evening was filled with good food, good drinks, laughter, and stories. Emma got to share the story about when she and Ruby had tried to fake-ID their way into a hot new club on the beach back when they were in high school. All Ruby’s idea, of course. But then, in retaliation, Ruby had to tell the story about the first time Emma got completely hammered, after their college graduation.

“Single mom, graduating summa cum laude,” she shrugged, with a smirk, “I was entitled.” Her smirk softened into a more genuine, grateful smile. “I couldn’t have done it without Ruby, David and M’s.”

“Damn right!” Ruby exclaimed, toasting Emma’s raised glass with her own. Laughter broke out from around the table and more toasts were raised to Emma’s success and to the happy couple. Finally, Graham stood.

“Who would have guessed that one of the greatest natural disasters that California has ever seen would lead me, lead us here.” He smiled down at Ruby, affectionately. “Killian and I have been friends for a decade. Ever since he hired me right out of college to work at the Geological Survey. When he was promoted, he brought me along with him to work as his assistant. And it was that position that led me to this beautiful, wonderful woman by my side this evening. The woman that I am so blessed to be marrying tomorrow.” He looked back down at his soon-to-be bride, as she fanned herself dramatically, trying to hide her blush. He leaned down and pulled Ruby’s chin up and captured her lips in a tender kiss as whoops and hollers from around the table were directed at the happy couple. He sat down and draped his arm around her shoulder as she snuggled into his side, red lips smiling widely.

Killian rose then. “I’ll keep this brief, since we still have the Dudes Day Lunch tomorrow,” he began, as loud guffaws broke out over the name. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “don’t laugh at me! It was old man Liam’s idea!” He pointed at his brother whose face flamed red at being outed for coming up with that ridiculous name. “Anyway, Graham fell for Ruby nearly as fast as I did for Emma. And I could not be happier for the both of you. But I have to say, mate, I made better use of my time.” More laughs came from the gathered friends as he waggled his eyebrows salaciously at his wife as he sat down.

“Well, you were on more of a time clock than I was, mate,” Graham reminded him. “Had to fit the wedding in once the Governor decided he wanted you in Sacramento.”

Killian nodded in agreement before drawing Emma into his side. He couldn’t help but rub his hand on her swollen belly before kissing her on the temple. Now that the speeches were over, the dinner party quickly wound down. They made their way back to the hotel and all went their separate ways, wishing each other a good night and reiterating the plans for the morning.

Emma came out of the bathroom over an hour later, hair and body scrubbed clean until it glowed in the low light of the lamps of the room.

“How’s your back, darling?” he asked, quietly, “Still aching?”

“Yes,” she yawned, climbing in the bed. “But I think that soak and more than an hour in this bed will go a long way to helping it feel better. I’m really looking forward to the massage in the morning. I’m sure I’ll be right as rain after that.” She snuggled as close as she could into his chest before looking up and drawing him into a kiss.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed against her lips. “I’m sure you will be too. Goodnight, Swan.”

She turned in his arms that tenderly cupped their unborn child. “Goodnight.”

~*~*~

Killian couldn’t stop the grin that spread his lips as he caught sight of the female portion of the bridal party exiting the elevators that brought them down from the spa on the top floor of the hotel. Emma was radiant, hair and makeup done to perfection and appearing to be even more relaxed than she had been when she left their room that morning. Apparently, a good night's sleep in a very comfortable bed plus a facial and pregnancy massage did wonders for his beloved wife’s countenance.

“Swan,” he called, approaching her as the party made their way toward the hotel restaurant. She turned toward him with the most beautiful smile on her face, she nearly took his breath away.

“Hi,” she replied, meeting him halfway and turning her face up to his for his kiss.

“How was the spa, darling?” he asked, rubbing circles into the small of her back. “How does your back feel?”

“Amazing,” she gushed, “Rose was my therapist and I nearly fell asleep under her fingers. I have had a couple of twinges since the massage, but nothing like yesterday on the way down.”

“Good,” he replied, “I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be at the oyster bar if you need me,” he said, pointing across the lobby. The smile she graced him with was full of happiness. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his own again. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

She hummed as he let her go. Emma couldn’t hide her appreciative smirk as she watched her husband saunter away before she caught up with the other ladies at the matré d’s podium. “Bridal luncheon for four under the name Jones,” she informed the man.

“Right this way, ladies.”

He led them across the gleaming marble floor toward a beautifully appointed table only a few feet in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the beach where Ruby and Graham would be exchanging their vows in about six hours. The ladies oooo-ed and ahhh-ed over the view and the richness of their surroundings. Settling themselves in their chairs, their server appeared pouring water in their glasses and taking their drink orders before disappearing again.

“Ruby,” breathed Mary Margaret, “this is absolutely beautiful!”

“I know!” their friend agreed. “Isn’t it? They had a picture of the restaurant on the website and when I saw it, I knew this is where I wanted everything to be.” Ruby sighed, happily. “I’ve always dreamt of a sunset wedding on the beach.” From where they sat, they could see the area where the wedding coordinator and her crew were already hard at work getting ready for the nuptials that evening.

“Don’t I know it.” Emma rolled her eyes, good naturedly. “I’ve been listening to it for years.” She drew her best friend into a side hug as the other ladies looked on, wide smiles on their faces. “And I couldn’t be happier for you both.”

Their server returned with their drinks and took their orders for lunch. Once he withdrew, Elsa raised her glass to the bride. “I know that I’m not as close with all you ladies as you are to each other, but I’d be remiss if I neglected to tell you all thank you first for including me in your festivities and second for welcoming me into your group with such open arms. I know that Liam is so thrilled and honored to be joining you and Graham in marriage this evening, Ruby, and we both wish you every happiness and blessing in your union.”

Tears glistened in Ruby’s eyes as she rose from her place at the table and came around to gather Elsa into a warm hug. “Thank you, Elsa,” she choked out. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally be marrying Graham. And having you here to celebrate with us makes it that much better. There are truly no words for how happy it makes me to see Liam so happy. How happy you’ve made him.” Elsa’s lovely face flushed at Ruby’s words. “When I met Killian, he, and then Liam, joined David as the brothers I’d never had. So it does my heart good that you’ve found each other.” Ruby let go and returned to her seat just as their lunches arrived.

~*~*~

“Hear, hear!” The four men raised their pints and toasted Graham’s happiness after Liam had spoken a few words that if the ladies had heard, would have earned them all eye rolls and playfully indignant slaps at the raunchiness of the teasing. Well, except maybe Graham. Ruby would have been just as likely to laugh and raise her glass with the rest of them.

After taking a sip, Killian rose from his seat. “As Best Man, and the reason that Graham met Ruby in the first place, I have a few words to say.” The laughter among the men died down as they all fixed their attention on him. “Graham, words cannot express how happy I am for you that this day has finally arrived. I knew the moment I entered the control center two and a half years ago that there was something different about you, and when you smiled at Ruby I could immediately see what it was.” Graham’s face broke into a soft smile as his eyes took on the dreamy quality of pleasant memories. “There’s nothing like a disaster of epic proportions to drive people together. You were smitten with Ruby that very first day. It has been a joy and privilege to watch you fall in love with the wonderful woman that you will make your wife in just a few hours from now.” He raised his glass high again in a toast. “To Graham and Ruby.”

“To Graham and Ruby,” the others echoed, raising their own glasses.

“May you find every happiness in life together, for you certainly deserve it.” Killian took his seat just as their server approached with their meals.

~*~*~

The ladies had enjoyed their lunch and were waiting for their Death by Chocolate desserts when Emma rose. Stretching her back with a grimace, Emma placed her hand on her back and waved away M’s concerned face. She looked down at her best friend and smiled gently.

“Ruby, you’ve been my best friend in the world since we were twelve years old and you moved into my school district. I’ll never forget the first time I saw you. You came into our 7th grade Theater class like a whirlwind.” Ruby chuckled at the memory. “You sat next to me and didn’t let my natural shyness and ‘prickly-ness,’” Emma placed quote signs around the word that Ruby had undoubtedly used many times in referring to her, “deter you. You were gonna be my friend if it killed you to do it. You were my closest friend in no time flat and I am so grateful. It’s been my joy and privilege to grow up with you, to travel the ups and downs of life with you up to this point, that I’ll now be handing off to your husband in just a few hours. And also to watch you fall in love with the love of your life. There are no words to express my happiness for you both.”

A gasp broke from Emma’s lips as a tightening in her back that radiated around her front caused her to hunch over and grab the table before her. The silverware and glassware rattled as the ladies exchanged nervous glances.

Emma laughed, breathlessly, “That really hurt,” she gasped, trying to sit down again. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

The tableware continued to rattle and Emma followed M’s and Elsa’s gaze upward to where the large chandelier hanging over their table was swinging back and forth.

“Earthquake!” M’s cried, “Everyone under the table!”

Emma got down on all fours and made her way under the table along with the others. Terror overtook her as the shaking continued. Thoughts of Killian on the other side of the lobby and Henry still in Sacramento raced through her mind as she prayed for their and her own and her baby’s safety. The shaking was beginning to subside when the table collapsed on the four of them, forcing Emma to flatten herself on the floor, her face buried in Ruby’s lap. The pain that ripped through her caused her to scream in agony before everything went black.

~*~*~

The shaking had finally subsided, but the scream and sudden silence from Emma terrified Mary Margaret more than the earthquake had. “Emma? Elsa? Ruby? Everyone okay?”

Ruby, her back facing M’s and bent over from the table on top of them was the first to answer. “I’m ok, but Emma’s unconscious. Her head is in my lap.”

“Okay, we have to get the table off of Emma. On the count of three everybody push as hard as you can. One, two, three!”

Groans from the others filled her ears, but she was barely aware of them as she pushed with all her might against the heavy surface of the table above her. Suddenly, the table gave way as it and the chandelier that had fallen on it flipped off of them. The sunlight nearly blinded her and it took a moment of furious blinking before M’s was able to scan over the others before she scrambled to a still unconscious Emma.

“Emma? Emma!” she cried, checking her pulse and respiration before noticing the wetness that was spreading out from under her sister-in-law. “Ok, I need everyone to surround Emma to help me turn her on her back. Very carefully. I think her water’s broken.”

A gasp broke from Ruby at M’s speculation. M’s eyes met Elsa’s pain filled ones as she realized that she was holding her left arm across her chest. The darkening bruise that took up most of her forearm clued her in that Elsa’s arm was badly broken and she wouldn’t be much help in moving Emma.

“We have to get Emma on her back so I can see exactly what is happening with the baby. As soon as I’m done with that, I’ll get your arm splinted.”

Elsa nodded. “Making sure that Emma and the baby are okay is more important. I can wait.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “Ruby, can you get Emma’s shoulders turned to the left? I’ll handle the torso.”

Ruby nodded and took her position. “On the count of three. One, two, three.” With a mighty heave they were able to get Emma on her back as she let out a low moan at the action.

The front of Emma’s dress was soaked. Mary Margaret wasted no time in shucking the maxi dress she wore up around her waist and removing her underwear. Ruby was gently shaking Emma’s shoulders and murmuring in her ear trying to get her to wake up as Mary Margaret checked to see how far along in labor she was.

“She’s six centimeters,” M’s announced, with obvious relief. “The baby’s coming. Ruby, I need you to get to the front of the hotel and find some paramedics. Hopefully there’s some nearby and you won’t have any trouble getting out there or getting them back here. If you see any employee’s on your way out, tell them we need water and towels here, ASAP.”

Emma was finally starting to come around as Ruby was maneuvering out from under her. “What happened,” she mumbled.

M’s moved to Emma’s head. She placed both hands on her cheeks and held her attention. “Emma, I need you to look at me. Do you know where you are? Do you know what’s happening today?”

“Uh, we’re at the hotel? And we just finished lunch? Ruby and Graham are getting married.” It was really more of a question than she would have liked, but at least there weren’t any memory gaps.

“Yes, that’s good!” M’s exclaimed, “Very good! There was an earthquake and we were trapped under the table. We’ve gotten the table off of us, but your water has broken. The baby is coming.” The calm that normally characterized her in an emergency situation descended on Mary Margaret. She may not have expected to deliver her niece or nephew, but she was far from inexperienced in matters such as these.

“The baby is coming?” Emma cried, “I’m not due for another five weeks! Will he be okay?”

Looking into Emma’s eyes, she could see that panic threatened to overtake her. She infused all the confidence she could muster from the less than ideal situation into her smile before she shared her expectations for the situation.

“At thirty-five weeks, the baby will almost definitely be fine. At this stage of pregnancy, the baby is mostly gaining weight and preparing for delivery. Our only concern is the setting. This is obviously far from ideal.” At that moment their server arrived with an armful of towels and two water pitchers.

“Thank you,” M’s said, taking the supplies from him. Turning back to Emma, she continued. “You are six centimeters dialated and I expect you’ll be ready to push here in about an hour.”

Emma nodded, trying her best to find some measure of comfort that M’s was with her and would do everything she could to ensure a safe delivery of her child. Wanting nothing more than for Killian to be at her side, she closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. She could feel the tightening in her back again spreading around to the front that she had become familiar with since yesterday. She should have realized that the pain was early labor and not just uncomfortable seats in Killian’s beloved classic SS Chevelle. But there was nothing to do about that now. She could only pray that Killian was unhurt and making his way to her and their baby.

~*~*~

When the earthquake finally stopped, Killian and the other men came out from under the bar where they had taken cover when the shaking began. It was all he could do to breathe as terror filled him as he looked around the restaurant and out to the lobby beyond. It was obviously a major earthquake, but the damage he could see was relatively minor. He knew that it would take him some time to get to Emma, however. He looked over to his companions.

“Everyone alright?” he asked.

A chorus of “yesses” and “fine” met him. “I’ve got to get to Emma,” he blurted out, picking his way around the debris as he headed toward the lobby.

“Hold on, brother.” Liam approached and grabbed him by the arm.

“Don’t you try to stop me,” Killian yelled, jerking away from him. “I have to make sure she’s safe. She and the baby.” The terror rose again and tears filled his eyes as the possibilities played out in his mind.

“I’m not trying to stop you, Killian,” Liam agreed, “I’m simply telling you that we’re coming with you. We all want to make sure our ladies are safe.”

Killian deflated. “Of course, brother,” he replied, chagrined. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“They’re safe. They’re all safe. I have to believe that. Everybody, here? Okay, lets go,” Liam called.

~*~*~

BREAKING NEWS scrolled across the television screen, drawing Henry Jones’ attention away from the comic book he was looking at. He was hanging out in a gift shop at the airport terminal before his flight to LAX started boarding. He stared at the monitor in horror as the newscaster was reporting on the 6.7 earthquake that had just hit Los Angeles. Footage of the destruction took his breath away. He hadn’t seen anything like it since the volcano erupted in LA two and half years ago.

A helicopter above the carnage was relaying live pictures as the anchor scrambled trying to report on the disaster. He looked over at the screen where his three o’clock flight was listed. A red CANCELED already flashed next to it. He could feel the fear rising up within, threatening to choke him. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for his parents and friends. Especially his baby brother or sister.

Taking a deep breath, he could hear his dad’s voice in his head telling him to stay calm. He was a smart kid and to think about what he needed to do. Feeling at least a little less agitated, he pulled his phone out and texted his friend Thomas to come back and get him due to the cancellation. Thomas was his section leader in the trombone section of his high school band. They had a long rehearsal yesterday to learn the new halftime show for this Friday’s game that he couldn’t miss, not if he wanted to maintain his place in the show anyway. Arrangements had been made with Thomas’ family and for him to fly down on Sunday instead of driving down with his parents the day before. Once that text was sent, he texted his mom and dad. He’d lived in California all his life, so he knew with the level of destruction he was seeing that cell towers weren’t going to allow him to get through if he called.

Moments later, a text from his dad came through. Henry released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding as he was assured that he and the other men were all safe but that his mom was at the bridesmaid’s luncheon when the quake hit and he was still trying to get to her. Henry could feel the panic rising in him again as he read through the rest of the text of his dad promising to contact him as soon as he got to her. He slipped his phone back in his pocket to wait. It was all he could do.

~*~*~

Killian put his phone back in his pocket after texting Henry the gist of the situation. The men were making progress out of the oyster bar, but they still had about a hundred yards to cover to get to the entrance of the restaurant that the ladies were at. Killian could only hope for the best when they got there. As they entered the lobby, Graham let out a cry so full of joy and relief that Killian immediately knew who Graham was calling for.

“Ruby!”

The tall brunette turned toward them, and even from that distance, they could see the way her face lit up. “Graham!”

“Where’s everyone? Is Emma okay?”

“The baby is coming,” she called. “We were trapped under the table. Emma lost consciousness for a few minutes, but was coming around when I left. M’s sent me to find paramedics and get them to her. Her water broke and M’s said she’s about six centimeters dilated.”

Killian could feel the blood drain out of his face at Ruby’s report. A strong hand grabbed his bicep, grounding him and his own hand covered it in thanks. “She’ll be alright, brother. We’ll get there in time.”

Killian nodded as he scanned the carnage in front of him, keeping him from his wife and child. Determination filled him as he pushed the panic back and looked at his brother. Nodding again and making sure that David had caught up with them, the men forged ahead into the ruin before them.

~*~*~

M’s mopped Emma’s head from the sweat that had gathered there as another contraction eased. Emma’s exhausted body rested up for the next contraction on the bottom of the upended table.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed.

“You can, Emma,” M’s cajoled, “You’re almost there. It’s almost time to push.”

Elsa murmured her own encouragement as well, her good hand firmly grasped in Emma’s. Once M’s had gotten Emma as comfortable as she could, she had turned her attention to Elsa’s arm. She had been able to break off one of the chair legs and fashioned a splint and sling out of it and one of the towels their server had brought.

“I want Killian!” Emma cried, head thrashing back and forth as another contraction started. “What if he’s hurt? What if he can’t get to me? To us? What if he’s dead?” The thought that she hadn’t let herself even think of to this point poured out of her in her excruciating pain and despair. She was dimly aware of movement around her when suddenly strong arms enveloped her pushing her up so that she was nearly upright and the voice that she longed to hear was in her ear, telling her to hold on. She melted into the embrace and wept with joy.

“Come on, Emma. You can do it. I’m here,” Killian whispered in her ear. He slipped behind her so that she could recline against him as he held her to him, assuring himself of her safety.

“Killian,” Emma sobbed.

“I’m here, Swan. You can do this.”

She shook her head, vehemently. “I can’t. I can’t. It’s too much. It hurts too MUUUUUUUUCH!” She ended on a scream as another contraction ripped through her.

“Ok, Emma,” M’s looked directly into Emma’s face as the contraction subsided. “It’s time. It’s time for you to push. Can you do that for me?”

Emma shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” Her chin trembled and her face shone with sweat and tears as she looked at her doctor, her friend, her sister-in-law. M’s just beamed at her.

“You can do this, Emma,” she stated, confidently. “You really don’t have much choice in the matter. Your child is depending on you.”

Killian whispered in her ear. “You can do this, my love. You are so strong and you have never been more beautiful. Our baby needs you. You can do it!”

Emma sobbed again as she nodded and pushed herself up on Killian. “Emma, when the next contraction comes, I want you to push with everything you have in you, okay?”

Emma nodded again as the next contraction hit. She could barely hear M’s counting to ten between the blood rushing in her ears, Killian’s harsh breathing, and her own screams creating a cacophony of sound that completely overtook all other senses.

“I can see the head, Emma,” M’s cried. “Our little prince or princess has a head full of dark hair! Just like their Daddy! You’re almost there! One more big push for me!”

Killian pressed his lips to Emma’s neck. “You’re almost there, my love. One more push and we can meet our child.”

Emma nodded once more, too worn out to speak, as she prepped herself for one more push. The pain rolled over her and with a mighty cry, Emma pushed through the burning and tearing pain that felt like it was ripping her in two. As she collapsed against Killian, a new sound broke the silence. The cry of a newborn baby.

“It’s a girl,” Mary Margaret announced. A cheer broke out around them as the small gathered crowd celebrated the safe delivery. Emma turned her face to meet her husband’s lips while M’s went about the business of cleaning up their daughter.

Releasing her lips, Killian pulled out his phone to text Henry that he had a new baby sister.

“Did I miss it?” Ruby’s voice shouted, indignantly. “What do you mean, Emma? Having this baby without me?”

Emma laughed weakly and a chuckle rumbled through Killian’s chest at Ruby’s pique. The rattle of a gurney reached their ears as the paramedics arrived. M’s rose to speak to them after placing their baby girl in Emma’s arms.

“She’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Isn’t she beautiful, Killian?” she asked, turning towards him.

“Aye, beautiful.” He placed a kiss to Emma’s temple and reached out to touch his daughter. She caught his pointer finger in her own tiny fist, filling him with an unspeakable joy. The tears began to fall as the realization that in the midst of destruction, injury, and even death, he had helped bring life into the world. Hope filled his heart as he held his wife and daughter tightly, thanking God that they were safe.

The paramedics loaded mother and child onto the gurney. “What do you want to name her, love?”

“After all this, what do you think of Hope? Hope Margaret?”

He couldn’t stop the grin that broke over his face at the similar thought he had just had. “I think that’s perfect, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her lips as the EMT’s started to make their way through the chaos around them.

Once they arrived at the ambulance in front of the hotel, he was informed that they only had room for Emma, Hope, and Elsa inside the ambulance. Elsa tried to hand off her place to the new father, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

“I’m sure that M’s took good care of you, lass, but you need to get to the hospital before I do.” He smiled gently at Emma and Hope as they were loaded in the vehicle. “They’ll want to get you all checked out, and we won’t be far behind you. We’ll see you soon.”

Elsa finally agreed, and after a parting kiss with Liam, climbed in just before they shut the doors.

Killian turned to M’s and David before gathering M’s in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, choking back tears. “I owe you everything. They are everything to me.”

M’s hugged him back just as tightly. “I know. They’re fine. They’re both fine.” Letting go, she grasped him by the shoulders and leaned back so she could look him in the eye. “Let’s get to the hospital and see our family.”

Nodding, Killian turned to David with his hand outstretched. Ignoring it, David gathered him into a bone crushing hug of his own. Killian could no longer keep the tears at bay. As a father himself, David knew exactly what Killian needed. He held his friend tightly as he sobbed out all the fear, panic, and joy this day had brought. After several minutes, Killian’s tears abated. Releasing him, David patted him on the back, expressing all the love and support without a single word. Then it was Liam’s turn. The brothers embraced before Liam let go with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

“My little brother is a father,” he exclaimed. “What am I gonna do now?”

“Stop calling me ‘little brother’ for one,” Killian groused, “and second, get a move on yourself!” Everyone laughed as Liam’s face flamed in embarrassment.

Graham, his arm around Ruby with matching grins on their faces offered their congratulations next. “I can’t believe she had the baby without me. But I’m so glad she’s here and safe.” Ruby’s expression sobered. “This could have been bad.”

“It could have been,” Killian agreed, “but, it wasn’t. Thank God.”

“Amen to that. Now let’s get to that hospital. Make sure everyone’s okay.”

Picking their way through the torn up streets, it took nearly an hour before they finally made it the block and a half to Cedars. By the time they got inside, Emma had already been moved to the Maternity floor and Hope had already been cleaned up, checked out and given a clean bill of health as well.

Once everyone had been assured of Emma’s, Hope’s and Elsa’s well being, they all settled in to discuss what to do next. Emma and Killian were texting back and forth with Henry, sending pictures of his new baby sister.

Ruby sat down on Graham’s lap with a pout on her lips. “There’s no telling when we’re gonna be able to get married, now,” she very nearly whined. “It will take months to rebuild enough to rebook everything.”

Elsa threw a questioning look at Liam. “What’s stopping you from getting married here? Now?” she asked. “It’s not a sunset wedding on the beach, but isn’t ‘getting married’ the whole point? No matter where it is?”

Liam raised his eyebrow at the couple as they looked at each other, silently communicating their desires.

“We’re fine with it,” Graham said, never taking his eyes off Ruby.

“Well then,” Liam exclaimed, “Let’s have a wedding!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma exclaimed, “We need to Facetime Henry. He was planning on being here, too, after all.”

Everyone agreed and waited patiently while Emma connected to the hospital wi-fi and called Henry.

Graham had entrusted the rings to Killian before they had left their rooms for the Dude’s Day lunch. He may have forgotten about them in the excitement of the afternoon, but when he patted his pocket, he found the box safely containing both rings. He removed them and handed Graham’s ring to Emma.

With a beaming smile on his face, Liam began. “We are gathered here today, in the presence of God and in the aftermath of an earthquake and a birth, and with an assist by technology, to join together Graham Humbert and Ruby Lucas in Holy Matrimony.”

The joy on the faces of the bride and groom and all the people in the room could not be contained. Emma couldn’t hold back her tears anymore as Graham said his vows to Ruby, promising to love, cherish, protect, and honor, before placing a beautiful white and rose gold twisted vine ruby ring on his bride’s finger. Thinking back on all their years growing up, dreaming of this day and all the love and happiness that awaited her best friend, it was all Emma could do to keep from sobbing instead of just happy tears rolling down her face.

With as crowded as the room was, and Emma confined to the bed, Liam, Ruby, and Graham stood at the end of it. Emma handed the ring to Ruby, but she had eyes for no one but her groom as she spoke her own vows of love, fidelity, and honor, and placed the matching rose gold ring adorned with small rubies on his finger.

“It is with great pleasure that I now pronounce you, husband,” he looked at Graham with a smile, “and wife,” Liam intoned, beaming at the happy couple. “You may kiss the bride.”

Ruby let out a whoop and launched herself into her husband's arms. The cheers that rose around them startled Hope enough that she added her wails to the delight being expressed by everyone in the room.

Emma couldn’t help but laugh as the nearly inappropriate PDA continued between the newlyweds. “Let’s keep things PG in here please,” she called.

Henry joined in as well, covering his eyes. “Teenager in the room, guys! Young eyes don’t need to see that!”

“Old eyes don’t need to see it either,” Killian grumbled, drawing his wife and daughter into his arms. Ruby and Graham finally broke apart, both flushed and breathing heavy. “It’s time for you two to find a room.” Graham at least had the decency to blush as he drew Ruby into his side.

M’s came over to Emma and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “We’ll get out of here and let you rest. You’re definitely gonna need it.”

Emma cooed to their daughter as Killian wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gazed lovingly at the two loves of his life. He placed a tender kiss to his wife’s temple then the crown of his daughter’s head before rising to see everyone out of the room.

Smiles, hugs, and murmurs of congratulations and relief were exchanged as everyone bid them goodbye and left the room. Killian turned back toward the bed to see Emma sound asleep with Hope laid down in the crease between her legs. He smiled and came back to the bed, picking up his daughter and sitting down in the rocking chair next to Emma’s bed.

Staring down into his daughter’s grey blue eyes, he was overwhelmed with the blessings bestowed upon him. The love of his life had just given him a daughter in the middle of an earthquake. Yet another state of emergency. A profound sense of gratitude filled him as he raised a short prayer of thanksgiving that they were both safe. He laid his head back, shut his eyes, and began to slowly rock. It was no time at all before father and daughter were sound asleep.

The End

#cs ff #State of Emergency verse #State of Emergency #Code White #krystal writes #artwork by captainsjedi

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU

Chapter 4 is up on AO3! (Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.)

They’re Gonna Love You

Three Years Earlier

Cas was terrible at making friends. 

He really was trying his best — he spoke up in class whenever he could, he talked to his seatmates when it was appropriate. And that was fine, everyone was perfectly nice to him. But he couldn’t figure out what exactly he was supposed to say to make himself less “that one guy from accounting” and more “Cas Novak.” So, he was three weeks into college with nothing to show for it.

Nothing, save his roommate.

Unlike Castiel, Dean had already found a group of friends from their floor. He was hardly ever in their room. Cas didn’t mind so much; it gave him space to focus on his homework, which already felt overwhelming and never-ending. But every day, like clockwork, Dean was back by seven, and he dragged Cas away from his computer and into the dining hall with him. 

Castiel had to admit that dinner was the best part of his day. Dean rarely failed to take his mind off of the dangerously constant spiral of social anxiety and school-related stress. Cas learned that Dean moved constantly because of his father’s job, that his brother, Sam, was “a textbook nerd,” that Dean’s guilty pleasure was Grey’s Anatomy (“Don’t look at me like that, Patrick Dempsey is in it”), that he loved pie probably more than anyone should be allowed to. And Castiel told Dean things, too, things he’d never had the luxury of sharing; how he decided to be a writer after reading The Great Gatsby for the first time, that his attending college had made him the black sheep of the family, how he had never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit (“Is that a friggin’ challenge, Cas?”). 

They had occasionally eaten with Dean’s friends from the dorms, most often on Fridays when the group was heading to a party afterward. That is, until Castiel brought a copy of Pride and Prejudice to the table to read before his next literature class, and Cole Martin asked him if he was gay with a smirk. The table had gone silent; Cas just looked at him, heat flaming across his face; Dean was staring daggers. Cole, refusing to get the message, prodded for a response, at which point Dean asked if he could talk to him for a minute. 

Dean didn’t speak to Cole again after that. 

He apologized to Cas profusely on Cole’s behalf, the “sorry’s” punctuated by assurances that it was great if Castiel was indeed gay, that Dean didn’t care, that Cas was Cas. But even if he was curious, Dean never asked the question. And that was good, because Cas wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation, seeing as coming out to Bartholomew during his senior year had led to six months of no-contact. Instead, Cas just informed Dean that he was accustomed to the treatment by now, that bringing Twilight to school his freshman year placed him solidly in the “insert homophobic-slur here” category, according to his peers. This only partly fixed the issue, because while Dean stopped apologizing, he started on a tirade against Castiel’s high school demons. 

Cas had never had anyone care enough to stand up for him. He thought he was very lucky to have Dean Winchester as a roommate

It was Thursday, and Castiel was agonizing over a problem set for accounting when Dean walked in. 

“All right, Einstein, let’s go,” he announced, dumping his backpack next to his desk. “Dinner time.” 

“Give me a minute,” Cas muttered.

Dean moved over to Cas’ desk and leaned over his shoulder. 

“Damn,” he said. “You really are a genius. I don’t know what any of this shit means.” 

“Save your accolades for when I pass the class,” Cas said, sighing. 

“You’ll pass, but not if you die from starvation first.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “I think you’re projecting.”

“Maybe I am,” Dean said, shrugging. “But you still need to eat.”

“All right. I’m coming.” 

The pair walked to the dining hall, Dean explaining the details of the party he was attending the following night, how he hoped the girl from his English class would be there. Cas never had much to add to these types of conversations, but he typically tried to remain engaged. Tonight, he just uttered monosyllabic responses when it seemed appropriate. 

Cas couldn’t stop thinking about how alone he had become. The novelty of college had worn off; all Cas could see now was how many hours he spent in solitude. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was doomed for a repeat of high school. The interaction with Cole certainly didn’t help matters, and though Dean was a great friend, Cas couldn’t escape the feeling that everything he did was out of pity.

“Okay, dude, what’s up?” Dean asked. 

“What?”

“You’re acting all weird. Kinda mopey,” Dean explained with a mouthful of pizza. 

“Oh,” Cas said. “I apologize. It wasn’t intentional. I just…” 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I’ve just been distracted tonight.” 

“By what?”

Cas gave Dean a look. “It’s not important.” 

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Cas interrupted him, changing the subject.  

“How are your classes?”

Dean shrugged. “Eh. Whatever. I don’t pay attention much.” 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to major in?” 

“Wish I was smart enough for engineering, but… Nah, I haven’t figured that out yet.” 

“Dean,” Cas said. “I’m sure you’re smart enough for anything you want to study.” 

Dean chuckled. “Appreciate that, Cas, but definitely not.” 

Cas eyed his friend a moment, but didn’t say anything else. 

“Hey, you know the party I was telling you about?” Dean said after a moment of silence. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”  

Castiel nearly choked on his chicken strips. There was only one thing that would make Dean invite him to a party. The thought of Dean feeling that bad for Cas made him want to become one with the floor. Not to mention the idea of attempting that level of social interaction was enough to send him into a tailspin. 

“That’s very kind, but I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Cas said. “I’m not much for parties.” 

“Oh come on, Cas. You’ve never even tried it!” 

“I understand the general idea.”

“Man, it’s the experience.”

“Dean, I’m not going to a frat party. I have enough to worry about with my classes. Besides,” Cas looked away, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m not… particularly adept at social interactions.” 

“What?” Dean exclaimed. “Dude, you’re awesome. You do fine with me!” 

“That’s different.”

“How?” 

“I don’t know,” Cas sighed. “You tend to do most of the talking. It saves me from ruining things.” 

Dean just looked at him. “Ruining things?” 

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly your typical college student.” 

Dean laughed. “Well, I mean, no, but that doesn’t ruin things. Plus, I can guarantee that every girl at that party would be all over you. Most of the guys, too, probably. You’ve got the sexy nerd thing going on.” 

Cas blushed profusely. “That’s irrelevant. The point is, I’m not going.” 

Dean sighed, long-suffering. “Fine. I give up. For now.” 

Cas let out a breath of relief.

They finished dinner and headed back to their dorm. Dean asked what class Castiel liked the most, which led to Cas gushing about creative writing for ten minutes. Dean graciously humored him, and when Cas apologized abashedly, Dean punched him in the shoulder and told him to shut up. 

When they got back to their room, Dean put on another record (Wish You Were Here, by Pink Floyd, Cas was informed) and left to take a shower. Cas finished his problem set with “Have a Cigar” in the background, grateful for the distraction from his earlier thoughts. That was the one good thing about his double-major — he truly did not have time to ruminate on his problems. 

Dean returned to work on an English essay, talking to himself the entire time. Cas did his best not to laugh at the muttered “what the hell am I even trying to say” and “I can’t use ‘demonstrates’ again.”

Hours later, after trying, and failing, to read ahead for philosophy, Cas resigned himself to his bed for the night. 

“Tired?” Dean asked from his desk. 

“Yes,” Cas said, throwing off his t-shirt and getting in bed. “But you can leave the light on if you have more work to do. I’ll fall asleep eventually.” 

“Nah, I’m tired too.” 

Dean flipped the lights off and climbed in his own bed. Cas closed his eyes against the quiet blackness. 

“Cas?” 

“Yes?” 

“Are you all right? Level with me, man.” 

Cas sighed. He supposed this conversation would happen sooner or later, if this friendship was to continue. “I’ve never had many friends,” he said. “I told you, after Cole, about the comments regarding my sexuality?” Dean made a grunt in understanding. “Well, it didn’t help that I was homeschooled until I was fourteen. I was what I believe is called ‘the weird kid.’”

Dean snorted. “You? Weird? Never.” 

Cas rolled his eyes in the darkness. “I’m serious. I just don’t want to be the ‘weird kid’ again, I suppose. I believed college would be my second chance, but it’s beginning to feel like a bad sequel.”

“Dude,” Dean said, “you have me. And Benny and Charlie like you, too. If you just went out more —”

“I’m not sure I want my friendships to be predicated on underage drinking,” Cas replied, and cringed at the way it sounded. When Dean didn’t respond, he added, “I just mean… I want people to like me, not my drunken antics.” 

“Right,” Dean mumbled. Then, “What was homeschool like?”

Cas furrowed his brow at the change in subject, but humored Dean, anyway. “Terrible. My father attempted to teach all five of us on his own. It was mostly history and religion, which, coming from him, meant racism, fire, and brimstone. He had this grand plan for me, and for my brothers, to become pastors.” Castiel paused. “I had to sneak out to the library with Anna just to teach myself basic algebra.” Another pause, a breath. “Anna kept me sane most days. She was more of a mother than a sister.” I miss her.

“Where was your mom?” Dean asked.

“Not sure,” Cas said. “We were all adopted as children. My father never took a wife, and I never knew my real parents. I asked my father about them once. He told me they died ages ago.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“That makes more sense,” Dean said after a moment. “I was wondering why none of y’all looked alike.” 

“I probably should have explained that earlier. I forget it isn’t common knowledge,” Cas replied. 

Dean was quiet for a long time, so long that Cas suspected he may have fallen asleep. Cas was about to follow suit when Dean said, quietly, “Sometimes I was the weird kid, too.”

Castiel snapped his eyes open at that. It seemed unbelievable to him that Dean Winchester could be disliked by anyone. “What?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. “Always moving, you know. Sometimes, people liked me. Sometimes, they really fucking hated me. It sucks, you know.” 

“I do.” 

tagging @nguyenxtrang :)

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #superposition #destiel fic

[pinkykitten]

HiGH

13 reasons why

Scott Reed x female! reader

Warning: getting high, vomiting, cursing, partying

Specifics: comedy, fluff, one-shot, race neutral reader

People: scott reed, jock dude, your friend, red haired cheerleader 

Words: 1,854

Requested: By anon 😍😁 I'd love a Scott Reed one with fem reader. Since its getting close to Halloween how about how they got/ get together at a Halloween party?

Authors Note: sorry guys for not posting a lot here ive been studying for exams and just my life is so complicated atm so forgive me i know i should post more its just all the stress ya girl sometimes gets writers block. i appreciate u guys still sticking w me reading my stuff and im glad to be posting something and feel good about it.

The different array of colored lights shone brightly as a hit pop song blasted loud through the speakers. The party everyone at school was looking forward to. Only the best out of the best was present, stuffing their faces with alcohol and booze to wash down the pain and stresses of school and life. 

You were content with staying home, wanting to open a bag of chips and really experience Netflix and chill. Solo. Alone. By yourself. A lone wolf. Why in the world were you really here at this party? You were a nobody compared to all these wannabes. 

You were fidgety, playing with your fingers to control your anxiety of all these people and the atmosphere. It was so unlike you. Then you remembered. The only reason you were here was because your friend - not really - needed to trade with you the history paper you lent her. She was very persistent to get you to come to her rather than drive her car to your house. You were a very simple girl, you hated teenagers - even though you are one of them - and high school. But why did you dress your best to come to something you cared so little about? You had spent a little more over ten minutes just to pick your shoes! Did this gathering really matter to you?

“Okay y/n you’re gonna go in there and swipe that paper out of her hands and go straight back home. You’re not going to look at the food, not going to be deceived into drinking and you are certainly not going to look at a boy and dance with them because you are better than that,” you spoke aloud to yourself walking up the stairs to the house, getting some cat calls and whistles sent your way. Opening the door you were greeted by a shirtless jock. He dripped with sweat or was that beer? He was dancing as if he was experiencing a seizure.

“Remember what you gotta do, y/n,” that phrase echoed in your head. You crawled past the dancing, then squeezed past the horny animals making out by the bathrooms. “Where the f*ck is she?” Your head whipped back and forth in search for your “friend.” You landed on her doing a chug contest. “Excuse me,” you would say periodically, shoving yourself beside hollering people. You stood beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. She didn’t want to mess with her chugging so she pointed on the table by the drinks. “Thanks.” The table was littered with people f*cking like they were experiencing sex for the first time. Moaning and groaning really wanting nerdy, single people - like yourself - feel very alone and really praying they would get that action tonight. You grabbed your paper having to really pull as there was an a*s cheek of a red haired cheerleader plopped on top of it. You grimaced as you pulled the paper, making note to wash your hands when you have the chance. 

“Now time to go home,” your determined self wiped your jacket getting ready to depart but your e/c eyes caught sight of a delicious looking drink. It was aqua blue with chunks of who knows what fruit in there. It was placed proudly on top of the kitchen counter. 

“Wipe out!” The jock screamed on the top of his lungs, sounding like an alarm. 

You covered your ears, annoyed. A group of teens took their cups and splashed some of the drink inside, enjoying the taste. “Why’s its called wipe out?” You asked the jock. Curious. 

The jock raised his brow, taking you in. 

“Pitiful,” you thought. 

“Its because, babe, there is a secret ingredient in here.” He motioned to you. 

Placing your palm on his chest you pushed him away, “I swear if its your jizz, count me out.”

“Its not, unfortunately, but just try it.”

You looked down and bit your lip. You were having a full out debate in your head, going back and forth with yourself. You had to do this paper. The party side took control of you and you snatched a cup from the table and poured yourself some “Wipe out.” You were totally going to regret this later. 

A boy stood beside you, filling his cup as well. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, he was a cutie. From the way his f-boy, blond hairstyle stood still with either hairspray or gel or who knows what, to his baby blue eyes. Your eyes traveled to his lips. He saw you staring and presented you with a smirk. A sexy smirk at that. You almost fainted! 

“This is bad,” your eyes widened as you felt light headed. You knew you could only keep away for so long. 

“Hey, I know you. You are in my bio class. You always sit up front.” No way this boy was Scott Reed. He was the talk of the school, having to be entwined with the drama of Bryce. “I’m-”

“Scott Reed. I know and I’ve seen you in class.”

“And your name is,” he pondered for a moment. “Y/n l/n.”

Oh dear. You were starting to sweat from the realization that you and Scott were on a knowing name base. That was enough to start something. Something you didn’t want to start because you didn’t know if you could finish it. 

“Wow didn’t think you were into this party life.”

“I’m not,” you took a large chug of your drink and Scott’s face looked disgusted. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to drink it that fast or all of that, for that matter. Okay you may experience being very...high.”

“High?” Yep it was truly a mistake for you step foot into this party. “There were drugs in that drink?”

“...yeah?”

“Scott!”

“Okay yes there was. I think only a little. Also alcohol, of course. It may not effect you though. Each person is different.”

You were feeling already dizzy. The world spinning but in a good way. As if you were on a ride. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of happiness and you were very, terribly hungry. The overpowering, booming music was low and muffled when it traveled through your ears. You were stoned and you wanted to dance. “DaNcE wHiP mE bAbEy.” You staggered back and forth. 

“You sure?” Scott asked, holding onto your arm. 

“Of CoUrSsSsSsSsSsSsSsE sCoTtY mCsNoTtY. GrInD wIf mEh.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Scott and you danced in the living room. 

With the shake of your hips and the pumping of your fists you felt like you were on cloud 9. 

There was a sea of fans, cheering your name.  “Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!”

You performed on stage. Basking in the limelight, the attention. You were a star, a performer. You sang and danced on stage with your backup dancers giving it their all. Everyone in the crowd sang along with you, knowing every word. It was perfection. 

Then you threw up and blacked out. 

The pounding of your head woke you up, your eyes getting adjusted to new lighting. An unfamiliar jacket was on you and you heard the engine of a car. We’re you being kidnapped? You shot up and saw Scott - the boy from earlier - sitting beside you in his car. 

“You are not used to drugs,” he chuckled. 

“What happened?” You laid back calm. You touched your head thinking that was going to stop the pain. 

“You threw up. All over me.”

Eyes widening in horror having the knowledge that you threw up all over the cutest boy in school. That party was cursed. You covered your mouth seeing the stain on his shirt, “I am so sorry Scott. Lets go to Walmart right now, I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

Scott touched your hand to calm you down, “its fine y/n, really. How are you though?”

“Well, lets just say I’m never doing drugs,” you sighed. “I feel really bad for doing that to your shirt. I bet you wish you never met me.”

“I would never wish that. We all make mistakes and to be honest you are the good one out of all of us. Don’t worry about this. You live and learn.” Scott drove to a drug store. “Wait here.”

Waiting for what felt like hours you imagined Scott as your knight in shining armor. You were hating yourself for feeling this way about some boy but you couldn’t help but get butterflies in your stomach when you pictured his eyes, lips, face, and even his smirk in your head. He was like another drug. 

Finally, Scott returned to the car and with him was a couple of bags. “I got you some medicine to help with the mess and the feeling like you’re gonna throw up every minute.”

Scott was a lifesaver!

“I got you medicine also for the pounding in your head. I also got you water and this,” he scooped up a stuffed raccoon (ik this is weird but its the first thing i can think of) placing it in your arms. 

“Aww this is so cute Scott. Thank you for all of this, really I truly appreciate all you’ve done from driving me to getting me these meds. Its means a lot.”

“No problem y/n. I always wanted to accompany a beautiful lady in distress.”

“Well you picked the right one.” Nausea was the symptoms you were feeling at that moment. It was unknown to you if it was the drugs, alcohol, or Scott.

“What are you going to name the little guy?” Scott pretended to pet the fake raccoon. 

You stared at the stuffed animals eyes and knew what the littler vermin would be called. “Veneno. Its means drugs in Latin.”

Scott giggled. His smile making you weak in the knees. “That’s perfect.”

“I know right-” You hurled on the floor beside his car. It was almost like a continuous cycle. You, vomit, him, help. It was compared to a endless waterfall.

“Thats it.” Scott rubbed soothing circles on your aching back. “Let it all out. I’m here for you and not going anywhere.”

Feeling very sick at that moment, you clutched his hand for support. Finishing letting the drugs exit your body, Scott handed you the water bottle. “You know, you’re one of the good ones as well,” you croaked as your throat was burning. 

You drank, letting the cold liquid slide past your throat. Your eyes kept opening and closing. Throwing up takes a lot out of your body. You felt you were used as a punching bag and all you wanted to do was get some sleep.

Scott got in his car and started it. You were a fallen leaf, a wilted flower. Your head fell against Scott’s shoulder - like a dropping petal -  and there you fell asleep. 

“I think its time to take you home,” Scott whispered. 

Starting something with Scott meant something to you. Yes, you may have gotten high at a cheap, smelly party but at least you had the pleasure of meeting a young man who cared. 

Tag list: @harrington-lover​​, @angelgl16​​, @perfectlybeautifulsuit​​, @hyehoney​​, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly​​​, @totally-alexa21​​, @creamy-pasta-boi​​, @multireese​​, @fanfictionrecommendations-com​​, @prentisskelley​​, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97​​, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople​​, @collectiveyou​​, @wtfisalltherandoms​​, @dirbel​​, @eastcoasthaven​​, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories​​​, @reginalinettis​​​

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

#13 reasons why #13 r w #13 reasons why fanfiction #13 reasons why imagine #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #scott reed #scott reed x reader #scott reed imagine #scott reed fanfiction #race neutral reader #netflix #requested #HiGH

[vmheadquarters]

Welcome to…

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Two of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @nearfantastica​.

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.3 from @saoirsekonstantin​ -tag, you’re it!———————————————————————————————————– [CH1]

CHAPTER TWO by @nearfantastica​ a/k/a casket4mytears

“Of course he’s dead.  Murder mystery weekend?” Dick rolled his eyes.  “Look, we all know Ronnie’s gonna work her PI magic and solve this with ten minutes of searching Google.  Nerd.  Can we go back inside and drink now?”

“No Dick,” Logan gently chastised, as if explaining to his child yet again that he couldn’t grow up and be a Jedi.  “This isn’t part of the game.  He’s actually dead.”

Gia spun around, poking Luke in the chest.  “I did not sign up for actual dead bodies, Luke.  You told me this would be fun.”

A lump formed in Veronica’s throat as she stared at the lifeless form of Leo D’Amato.  Years ago, before Lilly’s murder, she’d considered following in father’s footsteps and pursuing a career in law enforcement.  She’d toyed with the idea anew last summer at her FBI internship, the possibilities a Rubik’s Cube spun deftly in her palms.  Moments like these reminded her why she’d veered towards practicing law instead.  

Bodies, especially those of people she knew, unsettled her.  The inertia of them, the inconsistency… she couldn’t reconcile it.  People breathe.  People move.  At Lilly’s funeral, she remembered whispering to her father that it wasn’t Lilly—that Lilly was never still.  That they should shut the casket, because Lilly would hate to be remembered as motionless.

“Veronica?”

She was coaxed back to the present by the sound of Logan’s voice, concerned and closer than she expected it.  He was crouched beside her, shining his light over the body.  Casting her own Maglite across the ice, she noticed something fluttering beneath the camping lantern.  Hmm…

“You okay?  I know that you and Leo… were friendly.”

Veronica huffed softly.  “We dated.  Briefly, until I cheated on him with you.  I’m fine, Logan.”  Glancing over at him, she smiled gratefully.  “Thank you for asking.”

Logan’s gloved hand reached for hers, offering a reassuring squeeze.  For a moment, she lost herself in the depths of his eyes, all fears of frostbite forgotten as her heart panged with regret.  Seven months, nine days and six hours, and no bookie in Vegas would touch the odds of her moving past Logan Echolls now. 

Focus, Veronica!

Gently extricating her hand from Logan’s, Veronica rose slowly to her feet, circling around the pool of blood towards the lantern.  She kept her eyes downcast, scanning for footprints, drag marks, anything of use, but saw nothing.  The blustery winds of the snowstorm were swiftly disposing of evidence for the killer.  Retrieving her phone from her jeans pocket, she began snapping photos of the fluttering object in situ—well aware the police would be furious she was touching it at all.

“Phone.  Good idea!” Casey enthused.  “We need the cops here now.”

“Casey, do you really think there’s reception on Death Island on a good day, let alone during a storm like this?” Carrie sneered.  “Do you see a cell phone tower anywhere?”

Casey bristled, adjusting the collar of his parka. “Technological advancements being what they are—“

“I have no bars and I’m just taking photos,” Veronica snapped, reaching down to retrieve the mystery object.

Now this might be useful…

“Hey, hey!  She’s hogging all of the clues!” Cole protested, tapping Kimmy on the arm.

Brushing a tear from her cheek, Kimmy shoved him aside.  “You idiot!  This isn’t a game anymore!  How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“ENOUGH,” Logan warned, silencing the chatter.  “Veronica, what is that?”

“It’s a folded sheet of paper,” she replied, tucking it in her pocket.  “It’s too wet out here.  If it has writing on it, I don’t want the snow to damage it.  We should read it inside the house.”

“No, what we should do is get the hell out of here, fast!”  Wallace shouted.  “I’ve seen my share of horror movies.  As the only person of color in this group, that means I’m the likeliest to end up with a knife, a bullet or a fish hook in my gut.”

Veronica frowned, stepping forward to console him.  “Wallace, it’s going to be okay—“

Wallace’s arms flew up in the air.  “For you, maybe!  You’re the Final Girl!  White girl, PI, your ex dead on the ice.  Come on now, Supafly.  Name a horror movie where a Black man lives to the end.  No, we need off this rock.  And until we’re off it, I go where you go.  You feel me?”

“Where else would you go?  I’m your plus one,” she soothed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.  Lowering her voice, she whispered, “I need to check one thing and then we’re headed back to the house to figure a way out of here, okay?”

Wallace nodded anxiously, glancing sideways at Logan.  “Alright.  But we need to bounce.”

“No arguments here.”

Reluctantly, she circled Leo’s body and snapped photos from a variety of angles.  Fighting the urge to vomit, she reached inside his jacket pocket, retrieving his wallet and a set of car keys, but finding no other papers or items of note.  Satisfied she had everything useful, she headed back to the warmth of the mansion, eager to escape the sleet pelting her bare cheeks.  Logan and Wallace—ever helpful in a crisis--ushered the party guests along behind her.

As she trudged through the snow, Veronica considered her priorities:  contact authorities; secure evidence; keep everyone together.  Wallace was right:  they needed to get off the island or engage law enforcement as quickly as possible.  In the meantime, if a killer was on this island with them, safety would be found in numbers.  Cell service was a bust, but surely the sprawling home had a landline or other means of communication with the outside world.  No one wealthy enough to construct a home this beautiful would leave themselves without a means of calling in the cavalry.

“Why was that guy here?” Kimmy sniffled as Veronica opened the front door.  “Who even invited him?  He didn’t go to Neptune High, did he?”

“He went to a dance, once,” Carrie replied.  “I’m surprised you don’t remember it, Kimmy.  Meg invited him for Veronica.  Shouldn’t you have that memorized as part of your body snatching?”

“And I thought it was icy outside,” Wallace muttered quietly. 

“Just remember: you made me come to this party, Papa Bear.”

Kimmy tugged on Veronica’s sleeve, spinning her around.  “Wait, you were dating the dead guy?  Doesn’t that make you a suspect?”

“Dated, as in past tense.  It’s been years, and we only went out a few times,” Veronica replied dismissively, yanking her arm away.  “Leo and I were friends.  Besides, the state of the body… he was dead before Wallace and I arrived.”

“She’s dating that radio dweeb now… Pizzle,” Dick interjected, pouring out a martini.

Veronica stared at her boots, avoiding Logan’s gaze as Wallace mercifully jumped into the conversation.  “Also past tense.  They split up in the summer.  We haven’t seen him since we flew out to New York to visit him at Presbyterian, right V?”

“Mmm-hmm.”  Just keep staring at the tiles…

“Poor guy got hit by a bus, the last week of his summer internship.  He’s still in the hospital there, full body traction, head trauma,” Wallace continued.  “Guy wasn’t even conscious when we were there.”

“Damn.  I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan offered quietly.

“Says the guy who rearranged his ribs and face?” Wallace snapped.

Veronica laid a warning hand on his arm.  “Wallace… You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”  With a heavy sigh, Wallace stormed across the room to console a shuddering Alexis Link.

Veronica shot an apologetic look at Logan, who shrugged it off.  It’s fine, he mouthed.  It wasn’t—that much was clear from the crestfallen look that flickered across his features—but she would apologize in depth later.  Her relationship with Piz, and its demise, had nothing to do with Logan’s fists of fury.  Their ending was the product of a man who couldn’t see the hypocrisy in pursuing his internship and dreams, while holding her solely responsible for the long distance between them as she rightfully pursued hers.  She’d ended it while still in Quantico, moving on to Stanford without looking back.

Well, not at him, anyway, she amended silently. 

“You know, it’s funny,” Carrie Bishop mused aloud.  “I heard that Troy Vandegraff died in a car accident over the holidays.  Didn’t you date him in junior year?”

“I did, for a little while.  That’s a shame…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Veronica noticed Dick tugging Logan behind the bar, struggling to wrap his hand around his bicep.  How are Logan’s arms even bigger than I remember them?  Logan’s expression was one of bemusement, his feet firmly planted in place.

“Black Widow,” Dick muttered ominously.  “I’m not letting you end up on Dateline, dude.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself,” Logan insisted, moving to Veronica’s side.

Dick formed his index fingers into a cross, holding them up in Veronica’s direction.  “Fine.  Your funeral, and I’m so not sending flowers.”

Drawing a deep breath to steady herself (and to resist the urge to chuck the ornamental bowl beside her at Dick’s stupid head), Veronica smacked her palm on the table.  “As much fun as rehashing my love life has been, there’s a dead man on the pond and a killer loose on the island.  Priorities, people?”

Sweeping her Maglite over the group of partygoers, Veronica studied them all in turn:  Wallace, her best friend, consoling a crying Alexis to her right; Carrie and Susan, imbibing with tense expressions on the sofa; Casey and Kimmy, upset, but holding it together; a shocked Luke clinging to a distraught Gia; and Cole and Dick, both of whom seemed too intoxicated to fully appreciate what was happening.  And then there was Logan to her left, whose worried gaze was laser-focused on her.

“Okay, since cell phones are a bust, has anyone seen a landline?”

A lot of shaking heads, save one:  Susan Knight hesitated, her brow furrowing.  “Hmm… I might have seen one in the kitchen earlier?”

Carrie Bishop drained the frothy white concoction in her hand.  “I’ll go look with you.”

“Cole, you go too,” Veronica ordered.

Carrie huffed angrily and advanced towards Veronica.  “Of all the people in this group, the last I would expect sexist bullshit from—“

“Actually, I just want him out of my sight for five minutes and know you can take care of him.  Thanks for being a pal, Carrie.”

Cole’s protests were silenced by Carrie’s arm looping around his, dragging him down the long corridor towards what Veronica assumed was the kitchen.  Not that she and Wallace had gotten that far.  Damn it, they hadn’t even managed a drink before this had all gone to hell. 

Speaking of, Dick was still at the bar, making what were likely terrible, overly strong martinis in the dark. 

“Hey, bring back snacks!” Wallace called after them.  “Chips, Cheetos, a man’s not picky.”

Alexis pulled away from his embrace, tears streaming down her face.  “Are you serious right now?”

“It was a long trip and I’m hungry!” Wallace protested. 

Extracting Leo’s wallet from her pocket, Veronica flipped through the contents, finding little of interest.  Driver’s licence, debit card, credit cards, photos of his sister and his mother.  One item stood out:  a current private investigator’s licence for the state of California.  Huh.  If she did the math… he would have renewed it recently.  Last she’d heard, he was still working as a Deputy for Balboa County, although her information could be out of date.

Now, for the key find:  the mystery paper pinned beneath the camping lantern on the ice.  Veronica carefully unfolded it on the coffee table and shone her Maglite on it.  What she found left her reeling.

It was page three of a case file from Van Lowe Investigations—and according to the header, the lead investigator was none other than Leo D’Amato himself.  The text was smeared in several places from the snow, and being the third page, the notes were difficult to follow in places, but what Veronica could pick up…

“What’s that?” Casey asked.

“Motive for murder,” Veronica replied coolly, snapping photos of the page before carefully re-folding it. 

“So’s being your ex,” Casey remarked dryly, earning a glare from the petite blonde.  “What?  We’re all thinking it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Troy and Piz had accidents.  Piz?  That was five months ago.  Hardly relevant to—“

The thud of hurried footsteps approaching drew the attention of the group.  Heads turned towards Susan, breathless and distraught, with Carrie and Cole in close pursuit.

“The phones are dead,” she panted.  “But not just dead.  They’re cut.”

Logan cast his flashlight in their direction.  “Cut?”

“The wire was cut,” Cole blurted out, visibly shaking.  “So we ran upstairs, because Carrie remembered a phone in her bedroom.  But that one was cut too.  We checked all the rooms upstairs, but every single phone was cut.  Slashed like buddy’s throat out there.”

“What did I tell you?” Wallace snapped.  “Veronica, we need to go.  A brother’s about to get filleted.”

“Oh hey, found you a Milky Way!” Cole added absently, tossing a chocolate bar in Wallace’s direction.

With an exasperated sigh, Wallace unwrapped the chocolate and waved it in Veronica’s direction.  “Look at this.  My last meal’s going to be the weakest chocolate bar there is.  Some Mars Magic, please?”

Veronica’s mouth fell open to speak, but she found herself cut off by Dick Casablancas, now wearing a tiny bow tie and carrying a tray full of martinis, as he circulated the room.

“No, no way.  If we’re dying, we’re having one last drink first!” Dick insisted.  “I made us chocolate martinis and we’re gonna down these bitches and say a big fuck you to murder, and then Veronica can order Logan around like her lapdog.”

“Dick,” Logan warned.

“What?  Like we all don’t know she’s still got your scrotum in her super purse next to Mr. Zappy or whatever she calls that thing?”  Dick handed martinis to an eager Gia and Luke with a flourish.  “As Class Party Boy Peter Bogart, my alcoholism means I call ‘em like I see them.  Wallace is the token, so he’s toast.  I’m the frat boy, so I’m done-zo.  Might as well die drunk and happy.”

“No one is going to die!” Veronica shouted.  “Not if we stick together and work fast.”

“I don’t recall voting you in charge, Veronica Mars,” Gia sneered, sipping her martini. “I say we drink first.”

As Dick continued to pass around martinis, Veronica nudged Logan in the arm.  “This is why I am not going to Neptune High’s reunion.”

“I’ll handle this.”  Moving into the centre of the room, Logan sighed. “Fine, let’s take a vote:  all in favor of drinking a martini before trying to call the police or leave the island?”

Gia, Luke, Dick, Cole, and Kimmy raised their hands.

“All in favor of leaving right now before anyone else ends up dead?”

Veronica, Logan, Wallace, Carrie, Susan, Alexis and Casey raised their hands.

“Majority says survival over booze.  Sorry Gia, Veronica’s in charge now,” he added wryly.

“Thank you.”  Tugging on her gloves, Veronica rolled her shoulders back.  “We have no landlines and no cell phone service.  Our best bet to call for help is also our way off the island:  the Irish Wake.  Even if the storm’s too bad to leave yet, we can try using the radio to call the coast guard for assistance.  I say we head for the caretaker’s cottage and get the captain’s help.”

“Okay, have fun doing that.  We’ll stay here and drink martinis,” Kimmy replied, sipping her drink.  “Ooh!  Is this Godiva liqueur, Dick?”

Dick clinked glasses with her, grinning.  “Hell yeah!”

“No, we are all going,” Veronica insisted.  “We need to stick together to stay safe.”

Gia’s leg raised in the air, dangling a knee-high leather boot with a blood-red sole and a three-inch heel.  “Do these Louboutins look like they were made for trudging around the grounds of this place?  I barely made it to the pond alive.”

“So change them,” Veronica snapped.

“I only brought my cute boots.”  As Luke began to shake his head, Gia pouted.  “You told me we were going to a party inside a beautiful house!  Why would I need hiking boots, Luke?  This is your fault.”

“Maybe the killer will take me next,” Luke mumbled.

“Or Gia,” Carrie muttered.

“No, it’s Logan next,” Dick insisted.  “Because of the Black Widow.”

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Veronica rolled her eyes.  “Dick, shut up.  Gia, walk carefully.  Luke will help you.  Bring your martinis for all I care.”

As much as she wanted to abandon the group, grab Wallace and Logan and head off into the blinding snow as a trio, she’d learned years ago to keep everyone in her sight and trust nobody.  There would be no metaphorical backseat surprises tonight.  If she had to tie a rope around the waist of every 09’er here and drag them behind her through the drifts, she would. 

She and Wallace were innocent.  Everyone else was a suspect.

Even Logan?

Listening to the din of complaining rich kids, she stole a glance at her ex.  Even Logan.  Technically.  But I know he didn’t do this.

It was Logan who identified the location of the caretaker’s cottage as they stood on the front porch, a collective of shivering bodies whipped by icy shards from the west.  Visibility was near zero now, the wind cutting through the down filling of Veronica’s ski jacket, but Logan was able to just make out a small structure down a path that veered to the southwest of the property, lying between the dock and the mansion.

“That will be it,” he assured her.

“Lowly peasant I am, I’ll have to trust your expertise.”

“See the chimney, Veronica?  It’s a domicile, not a storage unit or barn.  Simple observation, not elitism.”

Veronica bit her tongue, pressing forward with Wallace at her side.  She was off her game, and their lives literally depended on her. Contact authorities, stick together, preserve the evidence.  Repeat mantra.  Her love life, or lack thereof, was a distraction.  Dick’s outburst—and Logan’s curiously sad expression ever since?  Also a distraction. 

“So, what was on the page?” Logan whispered.

His breath was hot on her ear and Veronica involuntarily shivered.  Body memory carried her to happier moments:  late-night conversations, their naked bodies entwined in tangled sheets.  The security of his muscular arms wrapped around her frame; her head pressed to his chest, counting the beats of his heart.  She bit the inside of her mouth, shocking herself back to the bitter cold of the present.

“Leo works—worked for Vinnie,” she began quietly.

Wallace edged closer and the trio picked up their pace, pulling away from the group.  “Worked for him?  He was a PI?”

“Apparently.”

“But he was friends with your dad.  Why wouldn’t he work for him?”

Veronica shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine, Wallace.  Dad probably turned him down, told him he could do better.  He’s always been a lone wolf.  Vinnie, on the other hand, would welcome the opportunity to recruit one of his own deputies for his OG business.”

“So the page was what, a case file?” Logan queried.

“A partial,” Veronica confirmed.  “The page was water-damaged, and I couldn’t find a name anywhere on it, but from what I could read, Leo had stumbled onto a cover-up of a crime, maybe a wrongful death?  It’s hard to tell with so much obscured.  If Leo had ammunition like that on someone here…”

Logan glanced back, taking stock of their present company. “Someone like Luke, who plans to run for Congress.  Or the Gants…”

“It’s a secret someone would kill for,” Veronica affirmed.

“But how did he get here?” Wallace asked.  “We had to give our names and a code word.  Did he come over with you?”

Logan shook his head.  “I came over with Dick, early this afternoon.  Same deal:  name and code word.  For Leo to cross, he would have needed an invite.”

“Maybe the captain knows something,” Veronica decided, veering down a narrow path towards the caretaker’s cottage. 

The cottage was more of a bungalow house, complete with a modest yard of its own.  It was nearly as large as Veronica’s childhood home, sprawling and framed with gardens edged in decorative stones.  Three steps led up to a porch of deep oak, where a heavy door without a window loomed as the entrance.  The curtains were all drawn, offering no view inside.

Without hesitation, Veronica jogged up the steps and pounded on the door.  “Hello?  Hello in there?  We have an emergency!”

No answer. 

Wallace approached, standing behind her.  “Knock again?”

“I might have my lock pick kit in my purse somewhere,” Veronica grumbled, shining her light inside.

Logan pounded on the door, calling out to the captain, to no avail.  “Yeah, I’m not getting a good feeling about this…”

Veronica’s stomach turned.  “Enter through the back door?”

“Title of your sex tape!” Dick called out, immediately clamping his hand over his mouth. 

Oh, he did NOT just go there!

Veronica’s hand closed around her Taser, pulling it from her purse.  “After all these years, Dick you still haven’t learned…”

No sooner had Logan and Wallace’s arms flown out to restrain her than the chilling sound of Gia Goodman’s screams rang out from the back of the cottage, startling a snowy owl into a frantic flight across the night sky.

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

[fangirlingtodeath513]

Ambiguitatis Error Est | a destiel fanfic

read here on ao3

This was written for the weekly words prompt "I miss how you were" over on the Writers of Destiel discord.

Minor Character Death (none of TFW), alcohol use (mentioned).

Dean missing their monthly game night is the final straw. Dean never misses game night, no matter what, but ever since his dad had shown up months ago, Dean’s been withdrawing from the group. It was only little by little at first, canceling plans last-minute with stupid excuses, then not agreeing to plans in the first place. Hell, Castiel has barely had any contact with him for the last few months, save for the odd test here and there. But missing game night with all of their friends, something Dean used to look forward to the entire month before? It’s annoying, but even worse, Castiel is terrified for his friend.

John Winchester has always been garbage. Ever since Mary died three days before Dean’s sixteenth birthday, John’s been a drunk, abusive asshole. Castiel didn’t know it was physical until Dean came to school one Monday in senior year with a black eye and a split lip, and that’s not even including the bruises up and down Dean’s arms beneath his sweater. That had been Cas’s breaking point. He told Dean that he and Sam were going to come stay with Castiel and his family. Thankfully, Cas’s parents were okay with it and three days later, John had disappeared.

Dean had flourished after that. A family friend, Bobby Singer, took Sam in when Dean went off to college. Dean and Cas were roommates all four years and they’d found a small, close-knit group of friends over those years, the same friends they still hang out with regularly.

But now that John’s returned, Dean’s pulling away again. It’s the liquid courage from Charlie that has Cas taking a Lyft to Dean’s house at two in the morning. He bangs on Dean’s apartment door with no regard for his neighbors and continues to knock until a very disgruntled and mostly naked Dean wrenches the door open and yanks him inside.

“Cas, what the hell? It’s two in the morning, why are you banging on my door?”

Cas glares at him. “You skipped game night.”

Dean blinks at him, confusion written across his features. “What?”

“You skipped game night,” Cas repeats, frowning. “You never miss game night.”

“I needed to do a few things for my dad.”

Castiel scoffs. “Your dad, right. Why are you so eager to do things for him, anyway? All he’s done for years is abuse and abandon you.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “That the only reason you’re here, Cas? Might as well just give it up.” Dean waves a hand toward the couch as he turns to head back to his room. “Sleep off the alcohol, I can bring you home in the morning.”

Castiel glares at Dean’s back. “Get back here! We’re not done with this discussion.”

Dean stops in his tracks and Castiel watches his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. He turns back around, raising an eyebrow at Cas. “What is there to discuss?”

“Why you’re pushing everyone away! I haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re avoiding every invitation any of our friends send you. I’m worried about you, you idiot!”

Dean blinks at him, frowning. “You don’t need to worry about me, Cas, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re pulling away from all of us. You did the same thing senior year.” Castiel collapses onto the couch, pouting. “I miss how you were before he came back.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m no different now, Cas, I’m just busy.”

Castiel scoffs, closing his eyes and throwing an arm over his face. “Fine, whatever.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Cas? He’s dying and yeah, I fucking hate him, but I don’t want to regret shit years down the road, okay?”

Castiel sits up, glancing over the back of the couch at Dean. “He’s dying? I didn’t know, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

Dean sighs. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d tell me to forget about him. He’s still my dad, I can’t just let him die alone in some hospital.”

Cas frowns, shifting around to sit properly on the couch, patting the spot next to him. Dean takes a seat, sagging under the weight on his shoulders.

“Does Sam know?”

Dean nods. “Called him when I first found out. He told me in no uncertain terms that he wants nothing to do with John.”

Cas’s frown deepens, but he can’t exactly blame Sam. Sam was never close with John, but Dean’s always been eager to impress him, even more so since his mother died. While he doesn’t like the idea, Dean undoubtedly knows what’s best for himself and Castiel would be a terrible friend if he didn’t support him.

“What can I do to help?”

Dean eyes him suspiciously and Cas tries his best to look sincere. He’s not sure it actually comes across, but Dean smiles at him nonetheless. “Nothing right now. I’m gonna head to the hospital in the morning, I have a bunch of paperwork I need to sign.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Dean shakes his head, leaning back and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Nah. Just… hang out tonight? I’m having trouble sleeping, anyway.”

Castiel frowns. “Why?”

Dean shrugs. “Seeing him brings up a lot of bad memories.”

They sit there quietly for a long time and Dean thinks Castiel might’ve fallen asleep when he suddenly asks, “What happened senior year?”

Dean smiles. Castiel had given him space at the time, which Dean will be eternally grateful for, but he’d expected Cas to press the issue later on. He never did. This is the first time in nearly six years that Castiel has brought it up. “I told him I was bisexual and that I was planning on asking a guy out.”

Castiel’s eyes snap to him as soon as the words leave his mouth, which makes Dean chuckle. “You’re… That’s… wow. Thank you for telling me.”

Dean snorts. “Wasn’t exactly a secret. I’ve slept with dudes before. I just don’t really go out of my way to tell people.”

“Does anyone else know?”

Dean snickers. “Sam, but only cause he walked in on me with a guy.”

Cas wrinkles his nose but chuckles. “Poor Sam.”

They fall silent again and after a moment, Dean shifts closer and rests his head on Cas’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“I know you're not thrilled that I’m around my dad again. Means a lot that you still offered to help.” He chuckles softly. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s in a coma and not actually saying anything to me.”

Castiel hums, draping an arm around Dean’s shoulders. He tries to answer back, but his eyelids are far too heavy to keep open and whatever he ends up saying comes out slurred.

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

Castiel wakes the next morning to a cold couch and the smell of freshly-brewed coffee drifting from Dean’s kitchen. He sits up and immediately regrets it as his head pounds. Slowly, Cas pushes himself off the couch and heads for the kitchen. The coffee is still warm and there’s a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon on the counter, which he gratefully takes.

He’s halfway through his breakfast when Dean comes home. He’s got red-rimmed eyes but he smiles at Castiel anyway. “Hey, how’d the head?”

Castiel frowns, setting his fork down. “What happened?”

Dean clears his throat, setting his keys on the table by the door. “He’s dead. Pulled life support this morning.”

Cas gapes at him. “You… Dean, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me that’s what you were doing?”

Dean shrugs, squeezing Cas’s shoulder gently as he passes by to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I kinda wanted to be alone. I said what I needed to say and… I actually kinda feel okay? It’s weird, but it feels like there’s this huge weight off my shoulders.”

“Well do you want help making arrangements, or…?”

Dean hums. “Nothing to arrange. He wanted to be cremated and have his ashes left by Mom’s grave.”

Castiel nods, squeezing Dean’s hand gently as he sits. “Well if you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

Castiel finishes his breakfast in silence. He knows Dean’s watching him over the lip of his coffee mug.

“What do you want to ask? Just ask it, you’re giving me chest pains just watching you try to hold it in,” Dean says with a laugh.

Castiel blushes. “Is it really that obvious?”

Dean chuckles. “I’ve been friends with you since I was three, I know how to read you.”

Castiel smiles softly. “I was just curious about who you were planning on asking out.”

Dean clears his throat, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, uh, that’s not really… it was just some guy.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “It was a small school, and we knew all of each other’s friends. I’m just curious, I won’t laugh. Was it Benny?”

Dean blinks at him. “You think I liked Benny? No, man, he’s just a good friend. I’m… it’s someone I’m really close to and I’m not sure they reciprocate. I don’t want to ruin things with an unwanted crush.”

Cas smirks. “I won’t tell them. You know how good I am with secrets.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “First of all, you’re awful with secrets. You told Sam about his surprise graduation party three hours after I told you. And anyway, you wouldn’t have to tell them, they’d already know.”

Castiel’s brows furrow as he turns at sentence over in his head. “They’d already-? Oh!” Castiel blinks at him in surprise and, before Dean has a chance to second-guess himself, tangles a hand in Dean’s hair and kisses him deeply. He tries to pour every ounce of the crush he’s been harboring for the last seven years into the kiss. If Dean’s dazed and elated expression is anything to go by, he understood.

Dean grins. “Still miss how I used to be?”

Cas laughs. “No, I think I like this version just as much.”

#profoundnet #writersofdestiel #deancasfanficnet #destiel #destiel fanfic #first kiss #minor character death (not tfw) #alcohol use #my writing

[keevansixx]

The Future Was Now...

I heard an interesting opinion concerning sub-cultures and why, in today’s age, you almost never see any sub-culture being represented on the streets anymore. When you do spy one of these rare individuals out in the wild, it’s like some rare mythical beast of a thing...fleeting, fierce, and wonderous. 

Welcome to generation V (V as in “Virtual”, and not vain, vibrant, vitriol, vivacious, nor victor) 

The sub-cultures of the past have all died, their digital ghosts haunt the databases like the proverbial zombies of old. Resurrected every so often to wistful nostalgia, and as meme fodder for the youth of today. Gone, are the days of artfully attired denizens of the world... languidly rambling to and fro across the surface of the land, spreading creativity in their wake like massive glaciers carving rivulets in the tapestry of the earth to be witnessed by eyes unseen, and thoughts unbridled. No....those days are long gone and forgotten.

Here I sit, alone in a box of my own design. Shackled to a monitor who’s glow is the only ambient light in the room, I watch the world scroll by in 1′s and 0′s rendered in pixel point perfection into images that my mind perceives as pictures of a world I no longer see, in a land I no longer feel, and a place that only resembles what one would call home. I no longer leave the confines of my prison. No toe crosses the threshold of my room....it’s safe here, and everything I need is in the box....no need to leave, no need to explore, no need to wander anymore. 

I’m told what I should eat...and I do so. I’m told what I should be thinking...and I do so. Anything contrary to the will of the mob is quelled with harsh criticisms, threats, and heavy handed browbeating from the lowest common denominator. “No!...thou shall not think outside the box! Thou shalt follow the thought speak of the masses! Thou shalt not have an original thought or opinion! Those are reserved for the popular chattel that have earned their vanity marks in the digital realm.” I’m to remain a good obedient little digital puppet to the will of the masses. I’m told how I should dress....and I do so. The almighty digital overlords demand acquiescence, obedience, and submission to their cyber-hubris. “No creativity allowed that exceeds that of the common person, lest you offend...lest you shame...lest you make feel....the mighty digital overlords.”

“Sounds like a pretty shitty way to live.”...and you’re right...it is.

It starts on any given day, on any given week, of any given year...

I open the window. the moonlight pours in from a harvest moon I haven't seen since I was a kid, alone in the dark, watching the stars go by. I throw on some shoes that were the huge internet trend a few months ago, everybody just absolutely had to get them to be in the vouge of the moment, and walk to the door. Stepping out side, I hear the chime of the monitor, the chirp chirp of the phone screaming out for my immediate attention “Message! Alert! Come respond NOW!” the annoying braying pings, whistles, chirps, and bells that demand obedience and response. 

I close the door behind me to the sound of stillness...the sonic detritus silenced by wood and glass, and I beheld the night in all it’s splendor...….glorious!

For the first time in a very long while....I have an original thought. 

“What if I'm not the only one..?” “what if, there are others out there like me?” “what if...we found each other?”

Over the many weary months that followed, I slowly weaned myself, bit by agonizing digital bit, from the shackles that bound me to my electronic prison. As each day and night passed, I spent more and more time away. Wandering the empty paths I once trod in my youth. It’s empty now....very few wander anymore outside of those whom make the world turn through service, and the multitude of electronic zombies (E-Zomb’s) faces crammed into phone screens, that move back and forth following their scripted paths of life. Just grunts or the half-hearted handwave to acknowledge that they are still breathing and alive.

I sit alone beneath a large tree in the center of town, watching it all go by...a little notebook open in my lap, where I jot down the most interesting thoughts that pop into my brain from time to time, when I see a purple post-it note pinned to the tree with a thumbtack. On it is an artful picture of an eye wearing a butterfly wing in it’s corner crease, with a small address and time and no designation. I take the note, and put it into my notebook to await evening at the appointed time...curious, but still a little bit cautious.

the sky is a beautiful velvet purple and crimson as the sun sets and I near my destination from the note. I walk along a sidewalk counting the building numbers as I go by, various lamps and street posts begin to ignite into glowing life in the growing dusk. I stop between two buildings, note in my hand, I count the two and note that the number skips one between the two building fronts. I hear old music drifting on the wind between the two storefronts and notice a small painting of an eye with butterfly wings off a ways down the narrow alley between buildings. I step off the well trod sidewalk, and follow the sounds down the alley until I reach a courtyard....like the kind one finds in the special places of New Orleans that aren’t on the tourist maps, nor social media posts.

there are strings of lights everywhere, a few odd pieces of art statues, and wrought iron scattered across the courtyard. sitting on benches are kids in old hippie clothes, goth kids lurking near the stairwells, art kids wearing whatever the hell they stitched together out of a scrap bin and dancing in small groups to whatever was flowing out the speakers surrounding the area. I see street kids, and punk kids, rappers and writers huddled around tables furiously scribbling down lyrics and rhyme. Skaters talking about their latest gnarly shred, plain janes and joes talking about life and oppression....in a word...it was old scenes alive and well and very much kicking in a little courtyard in the middle of nowhere.

I get approached by one of the goth kids and a beautiful hippie girl. They both had smiles on their faces and a welcoming look.

The goth is the first to speak, “hey, new guy....you look a little lost. Anything we can do to help?”

I pull out the purple note and reply tentatively “Not all who wander are lost...”

“and not everyone who do are found....welcome!” beamed the hippie girl.

“well to be honest, it was blind curiosity that led me here, so far....*looking around*....I'm not disappointed.”

The goth dude looks sideways at me, then asks. “so....how long have you been unplugged?”

“About 6 months now, it’s not been easy.”

“Six months? Damn man.....you been alone all this time?”

“Yes....but it gave me time to think, to dream, to see a world I was no longer part of.”

“Wow....that’s deep, Mr. moody.....*eyeroll giggles* welcome to the club!!!” Hippy gal chimes in, “we all found our own ways out of the web in one way or another and sort of found each other by happy accident. You....well, you found one of our calling cards we throw up from time to time for a moot, just to touch bases and stay in touch.”

“Moot???” I reply.

The goth snorts a bit and broodingly says “Moot....a meet-up, soiree, party, get together, picnic, graveyard bash, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.” with profound dramatic hand waving. ”We meet up a few times a month in various locales to hob nob with the other unplugged, and share ideas or show off what’s been happening in our own scenes. Art, music, poetry, crafts...basically, all the best of us with none of the digital chains......everything’s on the table, and nothing is taboo. Within reason, of course *smirks* get too lewd and the community here is good about looking out for one another....fair warning.”

“Point taken. Understood. So, why the notes? Why not advertise on a board or through alts?”

Hippie gal grins, and says “Because, sugar, we’re old school.....analog, no digital...rockin’ the paper tags like the punks of old. Only those who unplug, and really start to notice the world around them will find us....like you. Notes on trees...that’s my contribution, people rarely ever look at the trees these days...too busy online with their faces crammed into their phones to notice. The goth crews tag the cemeteries and dark places, other kids leave clues in whatever scene they happen to be in, and we cross post the messages word of mouth in our own ways when we find out about the different moots going on across the cities. Tonight, it’s here in the garden with my tribe, next time it could be anywhere...you just have to keep your eyes open up for the clues as they place them. When in absolute doubt...always check the library...the dungeon/dragon kids always cross post every event they hear about in the stacks. We’re off grid baby! the ultimate “fuck you!” to the digital world. No chains, no obligations, 0 fucks given....living the life that was taken from us one soul at a time. 

“Ok, so no online presence. check. Moots posted in randoms if I'm paying attention. check. If lost, check the stack for tags. anything else i’m missing?”

“Well, only thing else is snail....”

“Snail?”

“Snail mail....post office. Look, you’re going to meet people here...If you play your cards right, you might even get land addy’s from some of them. you want to stay in touch? Snail, or wait for the next moot to IRL face time. either way, you’re going to have to dust off those ancient writing skills if you want to stay in the loop. You don’t have to commit to anything...this isn’t an obligation, nor requirement, but it’s old common courtesy to reply when someone sends you a snail. Take a chance! you might just be surprised at what you get.”

“ummm, thanks?”

“No problem....and welcome to the revolution.”

I spend the rest of the evening being introduced to the different groups, watching the event as it unfolds. Being exposed to new ideas, and feelings I haven’t felt for a long long time. I get a few land addy’s from various patrons, and give out mine. It’s kind of nice, being here...in the moment. 

the moot winds down, with groups and couples slowly wandering off into the night. I make my way over to a 24hr diner and grab a bite to eat. a few of the attendees are there as well grabbing coffee, or eats, and we continue conversations we had started a few hours earlier. It was a good night.

I make my way home in the early dawn, and for once, in my long life...I feel a sense of profound peace. Like everything, for just one brief moment in the world, is alright. A new glimmer of hope in my mind, and countless dreams just waiting for me to dream. life....is good.

I open the door to my home, the chimes of my digital masters fall on deaf ears for once, and I sleep the peace of the newly freed...

Sometimes, the most profound acts of rebellion involve the most simple of things, like removing oneself from that which binds you....

Welcome to a new sub-culture...may you free yourself from your virtual prisons, break the chains, and take a journey into the unknown. 

this is Generation V.....signing off.....

#nightpost #randomthoughts

[tsfanart]

House Party, Part 1 of 4

Surprise! I'm not done with this marathon just yet; there's still one more story I have left, and then I'll bring back "Embarrassing Past" on the 6th. (I won't post anything during the holiday.)

--

Summary: Logan is a shy college freshman who reluctantly follows his sophomore friends Roman and Marco to a house party at Remy's house. It seems scary and overwhelming at first, but then he meets Dylan, a senior who seems intent on making sure he has a good time.

Pairings: Brotherly and platonic relationships between Logan and every other character, including Remy and Deceit.

(Full List of) Warnings: Abusive Loceit, peer pressure, excessive (and underage) drinking, one moment of implied vomiting (not until Part 3 tho)

Words: 711, 1135, 992, and 1404 for Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 respectively; 4242 total.

--

"Alright, kid, [WE’RE] going to have the best night ever. Like, seriously, [NO] one on campus throws house parties like Remy does."

Logan Sanders walked between his two new friends one evening, crossing his new college campus to get to this supposed popular senior's house. The night was clear, warm, and quiet, but Logan's head was spinning with anxiety.

"Loud music, [STRANGERS], and dim lighting. What's not [TO] enjoy?" he muttered to himself.

"You're gonna [LOVE] it, my dude, trust me," Marco spoke up. Logan gave a weak smile, and Marco tilted their head.

"Wait, have [YOU] ever been to a party of any kind before?" Logan shook his head silently, and Marco grinned. Man, I [KNOW] you've only been here for two weeks, but there is so much we have to show you!"

"But rest assured," Roman added, "[THE] world's two coolest sophomores are here to--hey, you alright?"

He stopped talking, realizing that Logan was staring straight ahead.

"Do school [RULES] permit underclassmen to go to these parties?" Logan asked shakily.

Marco shrugged. "Well...now [AND] again people get busted for underage drinking, but as long as you stay away from that you'll be fine."

Logan relaxed a little. "Oh, okay...[SO] do you think there'll be other freshmen there?"

"Eh, freshmen [DO] show up sometimes, but normally not till later in the year, Roman said. "Marco and [I] didn't go to our first party until...what, March?"

Logan rubbed his arm. "Oh...that's [A] good deal later than September."

The three walked silently as they approached the house, but then Marco spoke up. "Welp, the [FULL] college experience has to include at least one house party, so we may as well get that out of the way now, right?"

"I'm not sure [COMMITMENTS] of the social variety are a necessary part of this 'college experience', but okay," Logan muttered.

Finally, they reached Remy's house. Logan looked around in bewilderment as someone let them in and he was suddenly shoved into a noisy, crowded hallway. He stood on tiptoes and looked around for any other freshmen, when suddenly he noticed someone approaching them. He slunk down and stuck a little closer to Roman, suddenly feeling shy.

"Marco, buddy, [WHAT] is up with you tonight?" this new person said.

Marco smiled. "Hey Dylan, [I’M] doing pretty well. I was [THINKING] of texting you later, actually!"

Marco and Dylan caught up from the summer, while Logan stood between them and tracked their conversation as if it were a tennis match. Finally he sighed and cleared his throat.

Marco jumped back in surprise. "Oh, right, [OF] course. Dylan, have [YOU] met Logan yet?"

"No, I [WOULDN’T] say I have!" Dylan said, sticking out his hand. Logan glanced at it as if it were a snake, but hesitantly took it anyway. The guy seemed friendly enough.

"Well, definitely [GET] to know him; he's a pretty cool kid!" Roman said, ruffling Logan's hair. Logan smiled through gritted teeth.

"And plus, [THIS] is his first college party!" Marco added, nudging him playfully.

Finally, Logan had had enough. "Yes, I'm [FROM] a place where people don't tend to party as much; however, let it be known that such a position has not hindered my voice box in any way."

The three older boys stared at him in shock, but then Dylan shrugged and looked back at his fellow sophomores. "Hey, if [ANY] of you guys want a beer, I think the kitchen is open to anyone!"

"Maybe some [OTHER] time," Roman said with a wave of his hand.

Dylan shrugged. "Welp, this [GUY] has got you covered if you ever change your mind," he said, jerking his thumbs towards himself.

Before Logan could say anything else, a girl with wild hair came up to the group and tugged on Roman's arm. "Roman, dude, [I] can't believe I saw you, you guys have to come see this!" she said desperately.

Roman chuckled and pulled himself from her grasp. "Yeah, sure, [JUST] a minute, Linda." He turned to Logan. "Logan, you [WANNA] come with us or would you rather hang out here with Dylan?"

Suddenly feeling shy again, Logan silently jerked his head towards Dylan. Roman smiled and took off with Marco and Linda into the living room.

--

@lizaelsparrow @bunny222 @phlying-squirrel @haikyuupaladin @anarchicrealist @existentialburden @hissesssss @lonelygoldheart @sassy-in-glasses @pensive-patton @punch-you-with-friendship @challybop @natigail @kindofclever @k9cat @iris-sanders-athena @ravenclawangst @secretlyondrugs @theresneverenoughfandoms @nashiraneko @wtfeodipus @savingshae @zoalis @a-simple-fryingpan @yv-sanders

--

Hey...if you don’t totally hate me yet, why not go back and reread The Apartment (first word of every other spoken sentence), Audition (third word of every other spoken sentence), Movie Night (second word of every other spoken sentence), and Embarrassing Past (first letter of every sentence)?

Also, DISCLAIMER: These OPs were not edited until July 8th. Please don’t feel bad if you didn’t pick up on it--you weren’t supposed to! This has everything to do with seeing if I could be a good enough writer to pull it off and nothing to do with making others feel bad. It was all in good fun!

#my fanfics #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #abusive deceit #deceit tw #deceit #loceit #june fics #house party

[vanteism]

run | jhs & pjm

pairing: jung hoseok x park jimin (platonic)

genre: angst, light fluff

word count: 2.6k

warnings: alcohol/drug use, mentions of death

↳ youth is just an illusion Hoseok keeps losing himself in.

A Dead Writers Co. Collaboration.

Upon opening his eyes, the flash of bright neon lights and loud cheers erupted from the surrounding crowd, Hoseok was met with the life that he dreamed of living for as long as he could remember. The alcohol and nightlife attracted him to this dangerous lifestyle, the endless nights becoming his only comfort as he escaped the reality that laid outside the broken door of the destroyed apartment.

This was the stomping ground for the outliers. The ones who found it difficult to conform to the standards of society. They all came here, the risky teenagers, the youth-obsessed adults, the people who sought out the same shelter as him.

They too, drowned themselves in alcohol and narcotics — bottle after bottle, line after line, hit after hit, — hoping to rid themselves of whatever troubled them. Bad days, messy breakups, a fuck-buddy relationship that faltered due to growing feelings, Hoseok has seen his fair share of it all. All under one roof. That's what it was all about. The feeling of freedom accompanied by a synthetic high, a rush that was too good to be real.

It was the comfort that drew some in, the fact that you could walk in with a broken heart and come across someone willing to help you talk it out or to fuck it away. This house was full of the broken, the hurt, the scarred. These parties resembled a broken record, the same people coming and going each time, the same event transpiring as a result of the loss of logic.

With a leather jacket on his back and boots tied in several knots to prevent any loose strings from popping up, Hoseok made his way through the crowd, eyes searching for a particular orange-haired male. Maneuvering past the half-dressed girls strewn across the floor, he finds that familiar head of hair.

"Jimin!"

"Hoseok!" the male greets, a smile on his face, jacket hanging off his shoulder and exposing the loose white tank underneath. "I almost thought that you weren't gonna make it tonight! You're later than usual." he continues.

"Well, let's just say that I had a harder time getting here today. But none of that really matters now, does it? Now that I'm here?" Hoseok replies, eyes darting around him in search of a drink.

Instinctively, he reached out for the familiar red plastic cup set on top of a tray that made its way by him. Taking a quick swig of the mysterious liquid, Hoseok releases a sigh of content as he returns to the conversation from a bit earlier.

"Of course you would go for the booze first, huh?" Jimin chuckled despite being unfazed by the other males actions.

"Free booze is always good booze to me," Hoseok replies before downing another gulp.

"So it seems. It tastes a little strange tonight, maybe one of the girls decided to throw in an extra bottle of vodka."

"Maybe you're just getting worse at holding your alcohol, Jimin. It tastes fine to me."

"Let's not start assuming things, eh?" Jimin replies, chuckling to hide the disbelief in reaction to his friend's statement.

"Mmmm, whatever you say, man. Now, where are the rest of the boys, I find it hard to believe that they would decide to ditch us again, on a night like this."

"Right this way, your highness," a hint of sarcasm laced Jimin's voice as he guides Hoseok towards the rest of their group of friends.

Five was the magic number, it being the number of people they were looking for, and next to the stairs, on a rugged, black couch was where they found them. Slumped over one another, it was hard for anyone to tell if they were even conscious.

Approaching the group, Hoseok chuckles at the sight of his friends’ clear discomfort. Walking up to them, he gives each of them a light punch to their shoulders, rousing them from their senseless drunken state, directing their attention away from the countless amount of cups that littered the floor around his feet.

“The party only just started why are you guys already dead?” Hoseok questions in a joking manner, well aware that the party had begun hours before he even knocked on the door.

“God please if I have to drink another cup of that… vod… b-beer… whatever it was, I think I might throw up,” one of them replies, rubbing their eyes before releasing a groan. “You two go ahead, Jimin has been sitting in the back seat all night waiting for you. I’ve only seen him down two cups.” And with that, they lean back and close their eyes, giving into the alluring temptation to sleep. But it wouldn’t last for long, it never did.

An arm is found slung over Hoseok’s shoulder as he was about to come up with a snarky remark, but as he turned over to find the owner of the arm, he is greeted by an eye-smile that belonged to none other than Park Jimin.

You could say that the two were best friends, playing together in the sandbox at the age of two before moving onto ball-pits and public pools at the age of twelve. It was in high school where their friendship truly blossomed, moving away from just an after-school hangout to hitching rides together to whatever party they could find. It’s hard to not become close to someone after drunk confessing to ridiculous actions in the middle of a stranger’s living room, but to Hoseok this friendship was more than just a way to have a safety buddy for those nights where one may end up blacked out on a stool, Jimin was more than that.

Through thick and thin, Jimin was always there. During their younger years, Jimin was Hoseok’s only companion, sitting with him during lunch as the other kids gathered at the tables where there were tablets or game consoles present. Those days created the foundation of a friendship that has withstood the test of time, a friendship that now thrived even with the addition of more people into their friend group. It became harder and harder as time passed for Hoseok to imagine not having Jimin by his side, and same went for Jimin.

The party was hazy, the atmosphere was lively yet dense as a result of the sheer amount of people present in the already-cramped apartment, the air was almost too thick to breathe in. Hoseok could feel a pain growing in his head, but with limited seating available, he told himself that if he just ignored it and continued on, trying to become the life of the party, that the ache would dissipate, so that’s what he did.

One moment he was in the middle of the crowd, numerous girls clad in sequined skin-tight attire grinding on him, a smile on his face, the music blaring from the large speakers in the corners of the room drowned out by the constant chatter and cheering of the crowd. Camera flashes and strobe lights making it difficult to see, but no one cared when they just closed their eyes and let the music guide them.

A hand suddenly grips Hoseok’s upper arm, shaking him out of the trace that engulfed him as he lost himself in the crowd.

“Dude, you’ve gotta stop scaring me like that!” Hoseok exclaims, clutching his chest as his heart rate begins to return back to normal. Jimin laughed at his friend's reaction, the image of Hoseok’s change in expression repeating in his mind.

“Well, the boys want a group picture before they have to leave. I think they have a bio exam or something tomorrow and they need to go home and recover.”

“God, why did they even come if they knew that? It’s like they want to fail.” A look of confusion on Hoseok’s face made Jimin smile.

“Well, come on, they’re in the bathroom. Let’s just get it over with so you can go back to being a chick-magnet on the dance floor.”

“Hey! I was not!” Hoseok retorts before following his friend toward a familiar door with a sign that read ‘PLEASE do not destroy.’

Upon opening the door, the two saw their friends draped over the bathtub in the corner of the room. Why the hell did they want to be photographed in a half-full, grimy tub, but Hoseok made his way over anyway, a displeased look on his face.

"Okay, out of all the places you guys could have gone, you chose... here?" He questioned.

One of his friends looked in his direction before attempting to formulate a clever response. After a moment of silence, another member of the group jumps in, clearly impatient.

"This is the only place that wasn't filled with people and someone thought it would be a cool photo spot." flicking the head of the person next to him.

Another pang fills Hoseok's head, causing him to shut his eyes, limbs heavy and lacking control, and stumble, his balance lost and head spinning.

"Hey, you okay dude?" Jimin asks, eyes wide with concern as he witnessed his friend nearly fall over. Hoseok replies with a nod and a soft smile, trying to reassure Jimin.

Though it was apparent that Jimin was still concerned, the two still found spots around the bathtub where they could sit. Facing a random stranger, who Hoseok assumed was there to take the photo, he took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to them, quickly opening the camera feature.

"Flash or no flash?" they asked as they positioned his phone for the picture.

"Do both. And do a countdown before you snap the photo, I have to make sure that I look good," Jimin replied and smirked before a wave of unamused groans filled the small room.

"Alright then. Okay, so... three... two.. one!"

A camera shutter filled the silence, bright smiles on everyone's face.

"Aww, I think I blinked!" someone exclaims.

"It's fine, we still have one more photo. Can I see my phone real quick?”

They hand Hoseok back his phone and he immediately opens up the photo, looking at his face.

“Man! I look good!”

“You look like a used gym sock dude.”

“Take that back!”

A notification filled the upper part of the screen, displaying a text message from ‘♥’ that read ‘meet me @ the stairs later?’

“Duuuuude, you’re still talking to… what’s her name… Soyeon?”

“I heard she hooked up with THREE dudes the other night.”

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in anger.

“I didn’t think that my love life was up for discussion today so uh… how about you shutthefuckup?”

“Stop arguing! He has needs too you know!”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

Hoseok hands his phone back to the person taking photos and repositions himself in his spot next to the tub.

"Alright! So flash on, right?" the stranger asked, the tone of the voice indicating their displeasure, ready to get back into the party that raged on outside the bathroom door.

Suddenly, another large ache hits Hoseok. He shakes his head to try and alleviate the pain, to no avail, but no one seems to notice; they were all distracted by the camera.

"Three.. two.. on—"

Hoseok blacks out.

Upon opening his eyes, Hoseok discovers that he is no longer at that party. The room that was filled with color was replaced by one that was completely white. The walls were made of a cement that was painted white, the floor consisted of an alternating pattern of white tiles, the bed frame and sheets that surrounded Hoseok was white. No longer was he wearing his black leather jacket, his body was draped in a shapeless hospital gown that resembled a large blanket.

Blank would best describe the room, not a single piece of decor was hung on the walls and the only thing that broke the pristine state of the room was a set of tally marks faintly scratched on the wall by the door. That metal door. Something was painstakingly familiar about it. The silver body, the large bolts that lined the perimeter of the structure set apart at equal lengths. But Hoseok couldn't put his tongue on it, everything seemed so familiar, but also so foreign.

Eyes darting around the room, his heart begins to race as he takes on the seemingly unfamiliar environment, longing to return to the party he was at just a few moments ago, longing to feel the freedom he experience instead of the constriction he felt in the relatively small room. What even happened? How did he get here?

He was just at a party, right? He was hanging out with Jimin and the others, he was dancing in the middle of a crowd, he was there. Not here. Not in this room. No matter how hard Hoseok tried, he couldn't figure out where he was. The bottles, the girls, the other misfits, they all were gone. Was he locked up? Is this where he was taken after he collapsed at the party?

Sitting up, his head pangs, a large ache replaced the previous confusion. It felt just like the ache he felt before he lost consciousness. That memory was so vivid, even thinking about it made it feel so real to Hoseok. It just happened, right?

A knock on the structure that kept him in the space made his heart drop. Eyes wide, his gaze was directed at the door be where a loud screech was emitted. Hoseok immediately covers his ears in response, eyes shutting tightly and knees bent against his chest.

When the sound subsided and Hoseok reopened his eyes, he was greeted by a man in a large white coat and a clipboard. His name tag read ‘Dr. Han.’ but Hoseok could care less.

"Why am I here?" Hoseok questions sternly, desperate for answers, any kind of explanation.

Dr. Han lets out a sigh. "It seems like you forgot again. I have to change your dosage but your insomnia is so strong. I guess your current dose induces memory loss."

"Wait, what? What dosage? Memory loss??" fumed Hoseok, more confused than before.

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"I-I was at... a party. With Jimin."

“A party? Hoseok, you’ve been asleep all day.”

“What? I was at a party, with my friends, I don’t even know what this place is!”

"Oh no." Dr. Han grows quiet.

"What do you mean oh no?! Are you not going to explain anything??" Hoseok was shouting, angered by the lack of explanation he was receiving.

"Hoseok,"

"Yes, that's my name, can you answer my questions already?"

"You're here because you had an overdose of Restoril a few months ago and you’ve attempted to do so every single time we released you... We now have to monitor you and your insomnia to try and prevent you from doing that again. You've proven to be a danger to yourself. That's why."

The doctor's emotionless response silenced Hoseok as he tried to understand what he said completely. Overdose? He couldn't recall overdosing. Hell, he couldn’t even having insomnia.

“So I’ve been in here for months is what you’re telling me?”

Dr. Han nods and begins to write something down on his clipboard, probably recording Hoseok's response for whatever they needed it for. Suddenly, the writing halts as Dr. Han's eyes widen in realization.

"You mentioned a name earlier when you recalled the last thing you remembered. Can you repeat what you told me?"

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

"I said that I remember being at a party, with my friend Jimin."

"And how long ago do you think that was?"

"Right before you came in, I was taking a group photo and I blacked out and I woke up here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, god damn it! It's the only thing I can remember and I know I was there."

"Hoseok."

"What? Are you going to tell me I'm wrong? Are you gonna tell me that I'm making it up?"

Dr. Han releases one last sigh.

"Jimin died at the party 2 years ago. You were admitted here right after."

#btssunshinenet #networkbangtan #bangtanbuds #jiminnetwork #hyunglinenetwork #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts jhope #bts hoseok #bts jimin #jhope #hoseok #jimin #jung hoseok #park jimin #hoseok angst #jimin angst #bts reactions #kpop angst

[abunchofbadchoices]

Michael's Song

HSS Michael x MC (Jordan) in Midnight Sun AU

*Disclaimer: Most of the lines I got from the actual movie the Midnight Sun and all the rights belongs to the creators and writers. This is merely a converted fan fiction*

Part Two

"Maria Flores." The principal announced.

The audience erupted into cheers and applause, the principal shaking hands with the Student Council President/Valedictorian as he presents her diploma and Maria Flores bowed proudly to the crowd.

His name is to be called next on stage. Michael stepped forward, not knowing exactly what to feel and to be honest, he just wants this whole thing to be over and get the hell out of Cedar Cove.

He looks behind him and sees a timid blonde girl whose name he barely remember from the classes they shared. Emily Hawkins? Emma? Going farther, he caught some of his teammates' eyes from the line and they raised their fist.

"Go Tigers!" Caleb cheered. Michael smirks.

"Michael Reginald Harrison." Principal Hughs called from the stage.

A ruckus of cheers and hollers came from both the Varsity team and the cheerleading squad. Even some of his 'outcast' friends-- Morgan, Koh and Wes-- joined in on the noise.

"Yeah, Michael!" They yelled.

"Congratulations, Michael." The principal told him with her usual fond smile.

Michael shakes her hand and takes the ribboned diploma from her then raised it in the air, seeing both his parents sitting on the bleachers along with the other, proud smiles on their faces for once. Not the constant disappointment he sees from them all the time.

The graduation continued, unaware of another student, a certain girl named Jordan, has been watching the whole thing live on their local city news.

Jordan smiles on the screen. There he is. He must be famous, she thought, seeing as a lot of students cheered for his name.

▪️▪️▪️

Jordan wakes up around nine in the evening. Her room shrouded in darkness with only a glimpse of the light down the streets.

There is a noisy honking sound coming from the outside and she gets up quickly to check what it was. Down outside, the streets is littered with teenagers walking in groups, chatting excitedly among themselves as they passed.

"I can't believe this is happening!" The driver of an SUV yelled at the others, honking the car.

They must be the students that graduated earlier that day, just like her. Only the difference, they appear to be heading somewhere fun and exciting.

With a sigh, Jordan showered and gets dress before walking down the stairs. The house appears to be empty at first, then she goes down the hall and into a dark room where her father had been setting up a set of photographs.

"Ooh. That's a good one!" She said, watching her dad hung a grayscale stolen shot of herself to a cable.

"Something weird's going on right here." Scott pointed on a spot where her face is.

She punched his arm, pouting, then looks around the dark photography room. Since waking up, Jordan had an idea of going somewhere other than her room, but she wasn't sure her dad will be up for it considering he rarely let her go anywhere by herself.

"Hey, Dad, uh..." She bites her lip nervously. "I was wondering if I could go play with my new beautiful present at the train station tonight..." Earlier, her Dad gave her a present...the same guitar her mom used to play for her years ago.

Scott turns on the light, looking down his watch with a frown. "It's 10:00. Why can't Maria just come over? You could play here for us."

Jordan groans. "Maria's busy with her family. And, Dad, I love playing for you-- I really do, but I also need to get used to playing in front of other people. Please, please, please! Fred will be there. He'll watch out for me-- And I graduated today! Yay!" She wrings her hands in a faux festive way. "Isn't that the American tradition, to extend my curfew?"

Her father looks up the ceiling, trying hard not to grin. "Okay, I'll extend your curfew one hour--"

She squeals in delight, wrapping her father in a hug as she jumps up and down her feet.

"-- which means midnight, okay? Hey, and text me right when you get there, or I'm not just gonna call Fred, I'm gonna come down there. It will be so embarrassing it will become urban legend on why kids should stick to their curfew!"

"I love you!" Jordan shoots finger guns at her dad before disappearing out the door.

▪️▪️▪️

Michael managed to get himself his own bonfire.

The rest of the party has been in full swing at the distance, their classmates dancing, playing and laughing on different bonfires surrounding the beach.

He takes a swig of his beer. Michael had been watching Caleb, Julian and Wes having fun with Payton and the other girls from cheer squad.

To be honest, being here is as much fun as waiting for the graduation ceremony to end. Michael didn't want to be there, but unfortunately, he has a group of athletic friends who practically hauled him out of his house a couple hours ago.

"Dude, is this place--"

Michael shoots the guy a serious stare, then watch with a satisfied smirk as the guy rush as far away from him as he can.

He takes another swig.

From their bonfire, Michael noticed Wes heading his way. Julian and Caleb jostling behind him.

"Hey, don't do that thing." Wes pointed out when they reached his spot.

"What thing?" He sighs.

"That." Julian shrugged.

Wes pats his back. "I mean, you look all sad and it makes me sad."

The three guys chuckle, obviously had drunk too much already.

Julian offered him another can of beer. "Please, just chug this beer and come hang out!"

"Dude, you dodged a bullet, man." Caleb grins. He was probably talking about his failed application to Berkeley, where Michael had been hoping to go after high school and escape from this town. "You were gonna be up at the ass crack of dawn every morning, taking tests, nowhere near the beach. And now, we get to do this..." The guy gestures around them. "Our whole lives!"

Oh, for the love of God, please no. Michael says inside his head. He stands to face the others with sarcastic snorts. "I forgot, doing this our whole lives, it's way better than a full ride to Berkeley."

Julian turns to whisper conspiratorially. "Giselle, on three o'clock."

As expected, the girl indeed went to join them, her gold hoop earrings swing on the side of her face. Giselle gave her a dazzling smile. "Michael..." She says his name in a sing-song way. "You're in trouble."

"What did I do this time?" He played along.

"You didn't get me a drink."

"I didn't know you were thirsty."

"Now you do!" Giselle suddenly pushed him on the left shoulder, making him wince, and her mouth dropped open in surprised at what she did. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay." Michael grumbled.

"Is that the bad one?" The girl lifts the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing the long jagged scar on his shoulder. "Well, now that you're not playing, maybe you'll have a little extra time for me."

Ah, there it is.

Michael and Giselle grew up close in the small town of Cedar Cove, since Kindergarten actually. For a long time, they were best of friends. Going all over town, recording epic videos together. That was them.

Yeah, typical high school story... The jock and the cheerleading captain getting cozy all the time. But at some point, Michael got tired of everything. He started missing out on parties, spending lunch breks away from everyone. The injury was only the last straw.

"I also have some extra time for you." Wes quipped. "And I'm not playing ball."

Caleb nudged him on the ribs. "You were never playing ball, dude."

"Giselle! Get over here, bitch!" Her friends called out.

"Hold on!" Giselle touchs Michael's arm, her voice turns soft. "You're coming to my graduation party, right?"

Michael nods his head, reluctantly. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good."

And with that, the cheerleader walks away, her hips swinging along with the music.

The guys watch her before turning back to him, goofy smiles on their dumb faces.

He reached down on the bench, picking up his dark-green bomber jacket and puts it on quickly.

"What...what are you doing?" Caleb asked, confused.

"Dodging another bullet."

Wes stepped forward, alarmed. "Come on, Dude! It's our graduation night."

Michael backs away from them, arms up. "I'm not feeling it, boys. I'll see you later."

▪️▪️▪️

The knock she did on the glass window made the man look up from his desk.

"Hey, yo, Fred." Jordan greets.

The middle-aged train station officer smiles in delight at the sight of her. "I was wondering if you were gonna show up tonight."

"What, and disappoint all my fans?" She asked, pointing on the empty lot surrounding the ticket booth.

The man let out a hearty laugh, then she waves over and walked to the small bench on the corner where she always sits to play.

Jordan pulled out the guitar from the case then sets her journal on the space beside her. She knows exactly what to play, and it had been the only song she wanted to play first on her new guitar.

She played a few warm-up notes first, then smoothly gliding her fingers through the strings as the first few notes of the songs plays out. It was a song she had been writing lately.

"While you're fast asleep, counting your sheep,

I'm breathing...

I'll be up all night, playing through this twilight dream

Cause all my life I have been patiently waiting,

For lights to dim to fulfill my destiny...

I'll keep reachin'... As far as I can till break of day

I'll keep reaching..."

Jordan didn't even noticed but the last trip for the night just stopped in front of her and passengers steps off one by one.

"The light of my life will find its way

I know if I reach too far I may not ever recover..."

People passed her by, dropping coins and bills on the open guitar case, but the smiles on their faces was enough for Jordan to keep the music on.

"But I know the stars, Ain't all I'm meant to discover,

So I'll keep reaching..."

It was a rather chilly night. Michael shoves his hands into the pocket of his jacket and strolls briskly down the streets, passing by the train station which is still open for the late night commuters. He was almost around the corner when he sees it. A girl. She was sitting in front of the ticket booth as she plays guitar, the movement of her mouth indicates singing but from the distance, he couldn't hear what she was singing.

To be continued...

▪️▪️▪️

Note: the song title is Reaching by Bella Thorne.

#playchoices #choices #hss #hss book 1 #hss book 2 #hss book 3 #maria flores #michael harrison #michael x mc #caleb mitchell #wes porter #julian castillo #giselle

[arazialotis]

Drunken Confessions

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: Around 1400

Summary: The reader is an SPN actress attending a convention and reveals secret feelings at her panel.

Thank you @misguidedconqueress for editing and reviewing! I couldn’t do it without you!

Obviously I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time.

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

“Goooooood Morning Cleveland!” You shouted, running out on stage.

The crowd started cheering and certain members started yelling back at you.

“Wait, what? Minneapolis?” You giggled into the mic. “And it’s not morning.” You looked at your watch. “Where have I been the past 24 hours?”  You asked rhetorically. “Alright, so we're going to do this thing, thankfully a few of you showed up....” You looked to your left. “Hey, darling.” “Umm.. oh my god, I just want to say…” The fan started.

“Oh, I remember you... how’d our picture turn out, love?”

She giggled nervously. “Pretty good.” “Only pretty good?” You scoffed. “Come on, let’s take another one..” You waved her up and did a quick selfie before giving her a hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t answer your question. Did you ask a question?” You asked after she returned to her seat. “Oh well, next?”

“Hey, you’re amazing, and I love how you portray your character…”

“Thank you.” You chirped sipping on your water bottle.

“I was wondering where you see her going?”

You squinted your eyes trying to focus your fuzzy brain on what you could actually share. “Well... she’s not going to die… that I know of… yet..” The crowd giggled. “So with that in mind, you know she’s not going to hook up with Sam anytime soon.”

“What about Dean?!” Someone yelled from the audience.

You stuck your tongue out and blushed. “No romance plots in the near future… unfortunately. But you know, I think she’s stuck out as a strong, independent lead, so I think she is going to have to learn soon how to depend on others.”

The next girl came up. “Hi… I love your water bottle.”

“Thank you.” You showed your Wayward AF water bottle off. “It’s not water… yes, it is! I’m going to get in so much trouble today.” You bantered back and forth with yourself before taking another sip, squinting one eye. “What’s your question sweetheart?”

“So, I have this theory that your character is hiding something…” She started.

“Oh, we’re all hiding something love, but go on, what’s your theory.” You placed your fists under your chin eager to hear her thoughts.

“I think she might not be human…” The girl stated hoping you would expand.

“That would be fun, wouldn’t it.” You wiggled your eyebrows but thankfully managed to keep other information contained.

“So if you could be a supernatural creature on the show, what would you be?” She asked.

“Hmmm… is there something the Winchester’s don’t kill…  What about a mermaid? I don’t think there’s been a mermaid yet?! I’ll go with that. What about you?” “Umm.. probably a werewolf.”

“Ah yes, I too become a monster once a month…” You rubbed your hand on your forehead and gritted your teeth in a smile trying to hold yourself together.

Questions continued left and right, the hour seemed to fly by. You were nearing the end and had successfully managed to keep a partial filter on most answers.

“So, all information says you’re currently single, but I was wondering if you are seeing anyone or have a current crush?” “Jensen, I’m totally crushing on Jensen right now.” You blurted out without being able to hold anything back. The crowd completely erupted. “Oh shit!” Your cheeks turned bright red. “I.. um...  I guess you caught me at honesty hour… but I mean who doesn’t have a crush on him, he’s fucking smokin’.” The crowd roared in agreeance. “But guys… there’s so much more to him… he’s honest, he’s kind, he’s sweet, he’s brilliantly smart, he’s passionate about the things that matter…” The audience awed. “But you can’t tell him, okay?” They stayed silent. “Okay?” You asked sternly and a few passively agreed. “I’m so screwed.” You whispered to yourself. “We should just get on with this.” You looked at the next guest.

“Well, I was going to ask what your favorite makeup products were, but now I need to know what your hangover cure is.” The fan confidently stated.

“It’s that obvious…” You laughed. “Well, I’m going to need it tomorrow morning. So, I usually deep fry some hash browns, with some sunny side up eggs, avocado and sriracha. That doesn’t usually make me feel better. It’s just delicious. So that and then Gatorade nonstop… It’s not a great cure, you got any tippers?”

“Bloody Marys.” The fan responded.

“Keep the party going, I like that.” You agreed.

At that Rob and Richard walked back out on stage. “How was the apple juice, Y/N?” The crowd laughed at Richard’s question.

You sipped on the empty bottle. “It was water…” You defended.

Richard took the bottle from you and sniffed it. “Wooo, that is some strong water.” “Shut up.” You playfully grabbed it back.

“Can you give Y/N a big thanks for being here tonight?” Rob interjected to the crowd who cheered.

“Wait, hold up… you do a song for everyone else.” You argued.

The rest of the band walked out. “Only if you promise not to do any singing.” Richard teased you as Rob consulted with the group.

You made a face at Richard as Rob and the band started. “Pour me something tall and strong, make it a hurricane before I go insane. It’s only half past twelve but I don’t care....” “It’s five o’clock somewhere!” You sang with them. “Thank you New York!” You yelled taking a bow. “Minneapolis!” And ran off the stage as they continued playing.

You were walking down a private hall, back to your room to mentally prepare for a round of autographs, your last event of the con. Jensen was walking down the opposite side of the hall with Clif.

“Hey Y/N!” He greeted you full of excitement crossing the hall getting closer to you. “How’d your panel go?” You averted your gaze but quickly made a full recovery. “Peachy keen, jelly bean.” You chirped.

Jensen chuckled. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Very.” You unashamedly confessed.

“Y/N you can’t be drunk at a con.” He playfully scolded.

“Oh okay… Rome.” You stuck your tongue between your teeth.

He bit his lower lip. “Rome doesn’t count.”

“Shit, If I had know that a few months ago…” You giggled.

“Jensen!” Jared interrupted from down the hall, not seeing you behind Jensen’s tall frame. “Dude! Did you see anything from Y/N’s panel?! She likes you man!” Jared laughed.

Your eyes widened and you turned around completely embarrassed as Jensen shot you a quick look before redirecting his attention back to Jared.

Jared was looking at a post on his phone. “And I quote.. He is fucking smokin’ but there is so much more to him… you got to make your move, man!” Jared finally looked up slapping Jensen on the shoulder. “Oh Y/N… I didn’t see you there.”

You halted in the middle of sneaking away, turning back towards them. “Oh, you know how I am, stirring up drama to keep the fandom alive.” You denied any true feelings for Jay but couldn’t help but notice the quick look of disappointment on his face.

“That sucks, cause Jensen totally digs you.” Jared blurted out.

“Dude.” Jensen chided Jared. “Is everyone around here drunk today?” “Whose idea was it to take shots at lunch?” Jared reminded Jensen.

“One… I said one shot.” Jensen argued.

“Jensen, is it true?” You interrupted.

“Yes.” Jared and Jensen answered at the same time.

“Yes, it’s true I only suggested one shot.” Jensen joked.

“You know what she means, man. Yes, he’s been doe eyed over you even back in the day when you only were an extra.” Jared babbled.

“Yeah, okay, he’s right… I kinda... have a thing for you.” Jensen confessed.

“Well, I guess I kinda have a thing for you…” You played coy.

“Then go on you two!” Jared wrapped his arms around the both of you. “Get a room, make babies, all that stuff.”

You peeled Jared’s arm off of you. “Let’s maybe start with dinner?” You suggested.

“Dinner sounds great.” Jensen agreed.

“It’s a date.” You blushed with anticipation. “Umm, but uh, you should get going, I think your panels starts soon.”

“Oh man, this is going to be so fun.” Jared mischievously bounced down the hall.

“See ya around sweetheart.” Jensen ended before following after Jared.

“It’s a date.” You repeated softly to yourself. You took another sip from the empty water bottle before kissing it. “Thank you pinot grig.”

Tags:

Forever Tags: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78 @fallen-castiel @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21

Jensen x Reader: @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @jensen-gal @be-amaziing @mizzzpink @akshi8278 @beatlesobsessionlove @tiffanycaruso @mywillfulwinchester

#jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jared padalecki #supernatural #spn #spnfandom #spn fanfic #spn fluff