#“nah dude you’re doin’ great keep it up” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solarianradiance · 2 months

Text

“J-J-JAKE!” Shouted Finn.

“FINN!” Shouted Jake.

“DUDE! YOU’RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS, BUT YOU G-GOTTA LISTEN!” Finn demanded.

“You fought the Ice King who left you frozen where while he kidnapped Princess Bubblegum?” Jake asked.

“O-o-oh... y-y-you already kn-n-now?” Finn shivered.

“Yeah!” Jake replied in a flat voice as he picked up a large rock, using it to strike with great force against the ice of Finn’s feet. The icy shackles shattered easily, having been cracked by the invisible woman. “Kinda figured that out with all the ice and stuff.”

Finn stumbled over; he was free but still cold. “B-b-but how did you know it wa-...w-w-was Princesss-s-s-s-s-s-s bubblegum?”

“이 사람은 누구입니까?” Asked Lady Rainicorn she floated in.

“W-w-w-what the chuck-wagon is that?!” Finn said, almost panicking.

Jake stretched himself into a cozy sweater and attached himself to his brother to warm him up. “Ease yourself buddy, take it easy! Lady is a friend! She knows the Princess! Found her up the river! She explained everything!”

“음, 바나나가 대부분을 설명했습니다. 우리는 거의 이야기하지 않았습니다.” Said the Rainicorn.

“Yeah, I guess ya did, sorry ‘bout chewin your ear off like that, you were kind of... dazed.”

“그녀가 붙잡힌 것 같습니다.” Said Lady as tears welled up in her eyes. “나는 그녀를 구출해야합니다!” She then flew off, crying and sobbing.

“Wait, WAIT! COMEBACK!!! Aw danggit!” Jake scoffed in frustration.

“What she say? D-do ya know?” Finn asked.

“Never mind that, you doin okay man? Anything broken?” Jake asked, wanting to know if his brother was injured.

“Nah, J-...j-just cold... and down.” Finn asked as she breathed.

“Okay, you fought the Ice King, right? Tell me what happened!”

“What’s it look like happened?!” Finn said with anger peppering his words with a touch of sadness. “I flumped up! He stole the Princess and almost killed me! A-and... I-I... couldn’t keep my promise.”

“Promise? What promise?”

“I... promised I would protect her, l-like a hero would, like Billy!” He said in a glum voice. “But then I broke it cuz I didn’t finish off the Ice King like I think I should have and he got the upper hand and left me here while he carried off the Princess.”

“Wow... that’s a doozy! And a lot to take in!” Jake contemplated. “Hmmm, you said you didn’t finish him off? What do ya mean zactly?”

“Um... basically I knocked the cobs out of him and he was down and knocked out cold, or at least we thought he was. Princess Bubblegum told me to... finish him off. But I didn’t, so he got the upper hand. Now the Princess is kidnapped cuz I didn’t have the strength to do what was right.” Finn hung his head in shame. “All cuz I didn’t wanna finish off a guy who just tried to kill me.”

Jake was concerned for Finn, usually he was energetic, but this defeat was a really blow to his ego. But Jake was also a bit proud of his Brother for sparing a fallen foe. In fact that’s what he’s gonna go with in this peptalk.

“Naw dude.” Jake said as he unsweatered himself from Finn and returned to normal in front of him. “What you did took real inner strength to do!”

“Huh?” Finn asked, confused. “No it didn’t! I shoulda finished him off like the Princess ordered me to! Then this mess wouldn’t have gone down! I don’t have what it take to be a hero!”

“No. What you did is something a lot of peeps forget about. Mercy! You showed mercy to a worthy foe and didn’t forget he was a person.”

“Dude! He tried to FREEZE me to death! After I vouched for him to boot! I shoulda taken him down! Like Billy would have, no probs!” Finn countered, anger souring him.

“No. Finn. You showing mercy is something that sets you apart from Adventurers and keeps you from being an Evil Villain or a Neutral Mercenary. You didn’t lose track of your moral code! That makes you a Good Hero, by the process of elimination ironically!” Jake explained with a modest cheerfulness.

“That... kinda makes sense.” Finn agreed, slightly feeling better about his actions.

“Heck yeah it does! A real jerk woulda killed the dude that tried to kill you while he was down. But you didn’t! That makes you a real Knight in fabric armor AND safe from any legal prosecution to it being well within the parameters of self-defense! I think. Don’t quote me on that.” Jake said with half-hearted certainty.

“Yeah, I guess that really does make sense. Thanks Jake.” Said Finn, with a bit more of his usual pep in his words, a sign the pep-talk worked.

“Ya darn welcome buddy! Now come along with me! We got a Rainicorn and her Princess to save and an Ice Guy’s butt ta kick!” Jake beckoned.

“What?! Heck no! We can’t take him on!” Finn protested.

“Why not? You took him down, like you said! We can take that guy no problem!” Jake scoffed.

“Yeah, but only becuz he was holding back the whole time a goofy weirdo! He’s way stronger than we are!” Finn explained, worried about their mortality. “We’re just a couple of level 2 adventurers going up against a level 13 Dungeon Boss! Psycho is way outta our level range! He’ll destroy us! We’ll be TPK’d before we even reach his hideout! It’s suicide!”

“Well what do you expect us to do then?! Play cards or somethin!?” Jake asked.

“We go home and let the professionals deal with it! This whole adventure sitch is bonked!”

“Dude! We ARE the professionals!”

“No, we’re not! Or at least I’m not! I’m a kid!”

“Finn, where the heck is this coming from?! You were dungeon diving and fighting off monsters just yesterday! I know you’re still new to all of this, but setbacks comes with the territory of this profession.”

“Yeah, but... nobody elses life has been on the line quite like this! I’m worried the Ice King might kill her or something messed up like that if we go to rescue her! He WAS about to 69 me! So won’t he go crazy and 69 her?”

“He...WHAT?! 69?! Where tha heck didjya hear that term from?! Goodness!” Jake asked, going full parent mode.

“From the Ice King! It means killing people! I think ...right?” Finn answered.

“Uh... yeah, except it’s 86. 86 is the term. 69 is... meaningless nonsense. He made a mathematical mistake.” Jake said with relief he didn’t have to explain what 69 actually meant, or as to why people would ever 69. It was that sort of subject Jake would probably never fully explain to Finn if he can help it.

“Look, Finn, that girl needs our help! She needs that help NOW, and you made a promise to protect her! This is EXACTLY what we signed up for!” Said Jake, trying to motive his brother.

Finn remained anxious and fearful. He did not want to face the Ice King again. “But he’s so much more powerful! Like I said! Way too much for either of us to handle! He can 1-hit kill us dude! I love Mom & Dad, but I ain’t ready to see em yet!”

“Maybe, but it’s like ya said! We’re a coupl-a-level-two’s goin up against a level 13 Ice Wizard that you almost defeated by yourself! With our levels combined, we’re a level 4 party duo! Our power just doubled! You know what that means?!”

“That’s Algebraic!” Finn said with an upbeat flatness.

“Yup!” Jake confirmed. “And since we’re a pair, that means we got extra actions on the guy!”

“Which makes it calculicious!” Finn said as he hopped to his feet with growing enthusiasm.

“Yeah! Calculicious!” Jake agreed. “And with our combined creative wits and skills, makes our overall chances of taking him down way higher!”

“Alphanumeric!”

“YEAH! I think, maybe, probably.” Jake being unsure of his brother’s phrases.

“PROBLEMATIC!” Finn shouted.

“Darn right it is! And what this problematic... problem... um... needs is a... coupla do-gooders like us to solve it...”

There was a long awkward pause between the two. Neither was sure of what to say or do.

“Point is Finn, don’t doubt yourself so much! You got this bro! We both do! Together!” Jake then gave Finn a grin. “What time is it?” Jake asked, barely concealing his excitement.

“It’s...” Finn began, inhaling, knowing exactly what Jake meant. “ADVENTURE TIME!!!” He yelled out for all the world to hear. Finn & Jake then bumped their fists together.

“That’s my brother! Now let’s go fulfill that promise you made to the Princess and go rescue her! Come along, Finn!” Jake stretched himself larger, becoming quadrapedal, upon which Finn hopped on top of.

“Wait! Hold up!” Finn said with urgency.

“What is it? Gotta take a leak?” Jake asked.

“Nah, see that rod thing in the ice?” Finn pointed at a particular part of the stream, still frozen.

Jake spotted what he meant and broke through the stream and pulled it out, examining the item. “What is it?” He asked.

“Flamethrower! It’s the Princesses! Might come in handy!” Finn said, as he checked to see if it was still working, which judging by the burst of fire into the air, it was. “WHOA-OH!!”

“Careful with that man! Playin with fire is dangerous!” Jake said mindfully. “But you’re right, this could come in handy!”

The two then rode off into the mid-morning sunrise.

Finn was feeling much better, especially after having sat on that ice for so long. But he still felt sadness and anger towards himself for failing the Princess and a fear of facing the Ice King again. He did not want to die, but he also felt the fear of failing her again. He did not know which was worse.

But he was also curious about the Invisible girl. Who was she and how long was had she been there during the fight? Why did she not do anything? Or WAS she doing something? Or was she really a girl and not just a really girly sounding guy?

Most important question of all in this moment, why were they heading towards the Candy Kingdom?

“Uh Jake!” Finn piped up.

“Yeah buddy, what is it?!” Jake said with excitement.

“We’re supposed to be going to the Ice Mountains!”

“OH!” Jake said with surprise as he course corrected by turning into the right direction. “I knew that!”

“Haha! Silly Dog!” Finn commented, jolly as a rancher.

Adventure Time Presents: The Good, The Fair & The Beautiful. - Chapter 9 - Zalloj - Adventure Time (Cartoon 2010) [Archive of Our Own]

#adventure time #finn #jake the dog #lady rainicorn

20 notes · View notes

writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Everything's Bigger In Texas

Summary: You decide to drive up to Dallas to surprise your old high school buddy, Jared, while he’s there for a convention.

Pairing: Jared x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: J2 convention hilarity, dick jokes, only one bed, high school friends, spooning, size kink Word Count: 3,504 Bingo Squares: @spnkinkbingo - Size Kink

A/N: Not set around any particular season. For the purpose of this story, Jared and Jensen are both single, non-fathers.

Commissioned by: @jbbarnesgirl She had a great prompt that this has now spawned a sequel (which will be a member exclusive on my website)! Thanks for letting my mind run wild on this one babe ❤️

You pull into the parking space the valet wrote on your ticket and park with a dramatic exhale of relief. You’ve actually gone through with it and made the three hour drive up to Dallas to surprise Jared at his convention this weekend.

It had been years since your last high school reunion in Austin when you’d run into each other and wound up drunk in a Waffle House at three in the morning, stuffing your faces with bacon and french fries. You and he were the kind of friends that were awful at keeping in touch but time traveled straight back to junior year anytime you ran into each other. You’ve always been able to talk and laugh like only a weekend had passed between visits instead of years.

You hope Jared’s happy to see you, because you’ve been bursting at the seams with excitement since you came up with your ‘surprise’ plan.

The hotel lobby is swarming with fans and you wonder how on earth you’re going to find Jared in all the bustle. Your plan is to find someone who looks like they’re working the convention and ask for directions to Jared and Jensen’s bodyguard, Clif, who you hope to God remembers dropping your drunk ass off at your apartment after the Waffle House incident. It’s not a very elegant plan but it’s all you’ve got. You spot someone with a lanyard and a walkie-talkie and beeline toward them, fingers crossed in your pocket.

Twenty minutes and several tiers up the convention staff hierarchy later you’re finally led to a service hallway and ushered towards a door, Clif standing guard stoically outside it. The employee escorting you speaks quietly to Clif while you stand there awkwardly, rocking back and forth, toes to heel, in an effort to contain your nervous energy. A look of recognition slowly dawns across the bodyguard’s face as he takes another look at you.

“Austin, a couple years ago?” he asks to confirm.

“High school reunion,” you nod in affirmation, relieved he actually does remember you.

“No getting Jared drunk until after the panel,” Clif admonishes, aiming a thick finger menacingly at your face, and you nod gravely before his face cracks into a grin and he swings the door behind him back on its hinges.

“Y/N?!” Jared’s facing the door and spots you immediately, his face breaking into a wide smile. The anxiety that had solidified in your chest with each passing mile on your way here disintegrates, carrying the tension out of your body as it melts away.

“Hey there, Hot Shot.”

Jared bounds forward and wraps you tightly in a hug, the muscles in his arms visibly bulging the sleeves of his t-shirt as he squeezes you against him, which you can’t help but notice because your eye level is at his bicep. You hug him back as tightly as you can manage, pressing your cheek into his chest.

“How ya doin’, squirt?” Jared grabs your shoulders and manhandles you away from him so he can get a better look at you, his eyes racing up and down your figure. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Dallas is only a three hour drive,” you shrug. It’s no big deal really, you’d just wanted to see him. “Plus my mom cancelled our girls’ weekend, so I had nothing better to do,” you grin, your eyes twinkling up at him wryly. Behind you, you hear Jensen snort with laughter. Jared turns to his friend, giving him a withering look and Jensen chokes back another laugh, unable to hide his amusement.

“Dude, you were her back-up plan after her mom?”

“Shut up,” Jared rolls his eyes but you join in Jensen’s giggles.

“I’m Jensen, by the way,” the man in question raises a hand in greeting, and you smile back.

“Y/N,” you wave. “Went to high school with this nut case,” you jerk your thumb towards Jared.

“Feels like I do too,” Jensen laughs. “He still acts like he’s fourteen most of the time.”

“Hey!” Jared points an accusing finger at Jensen, “at least fifteen, thank you very much.”

“And what exactly is the distinction between fourteen and fifteen here, Jay?” he asks.

“He doesn’t pop a boner every time he talks to a girl anymore?” you offer, snickering. Jensen bursts out laughing, a full bellied, joyous sound that fills out every corner of the room. Jared is rolling his eyes again, but you spy the faint blush that’s started to creep up his neck, and based on the smirk Jensen’s wearing, you think he’s spotted it too.

“So,” Jared draws out the syllable, trying to change the topic. “Are you staying for the convention then?”

“Got my ticket and everything,” you wave your pass in the air. “But mainly I just wanted to see you, it’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it has,” Jared squeezes your arm affectionately. “Where’s your seat? I think we’re getting called out soon.”

“Oh I’m with the plebs at the back, standing room. Seeing your ass is only worth so much money,” you tease.

“You’re standing?” Jared’s brow shoots up. “You won’t be able to see a damn thing,” he laughs.

“You’re tall enough to see from space, Bigfoot,” you try to hit him on the head but he easily stretches his neck so you can’t reach, illustrating your point.

“She’s gotcha there, J-Rod,” Jensen agrees, strolling forwards and smacking Jared on the back of the head for you, since your attempt was foiled. “But you don’t have to stand all the way back there, sweetheart,” Jensen adds. “Come out with us, we’ll have someone put you at the side of the stage.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I really don’t mind standing,” you protest. You didn’t want to take space away from the fans who had paid for the close seats. You’re only a casual watcher of the show anyways, ghosts and monsters aren’t so much your thing, you just watch it because of Jared.

“Nah, c’mon,” Jared ignores your protest, striding back towards the door and popping his head out to talk to Clif. “Can you have them slap an extra chair on the side of the stage? Y/N’s gonna stick around for the panel.”

“Sure thing,” Clif nods, and radioes a volunteer to get it done.

“Jared,” you roll your eyes at your friend.

“Too late,” he taunts. “You’re stuck with the fangirls now.”

“Just keep in mind all the shit I could tell them,” you threaten jokingly.

“Nah, you won’t do that.” Jared’s entirely unconcerned.

“Why not?”

“Because then I won’t pay for our drinks tab later,” he smirks.

You mime turning a lock and throwing away the key. “My lips are sealed.”

“You better tell me later though, sweetheart,” Jensen ducks his head to whisper in your ear as they usher you out the door.

“Buy me a couple cosmos, you can know anything you want,” you smirk, and let Jensen and Jared guide you out to the convention hall for their panel.

“I will definitely take you up on that,” Jensen’s breath ghosts ticklishly over your ear. He shoots you a wink as he ducks behind a dividing curtain and you wave back giggling, and make your way to the seat Clif is pointing you towards.

The panel is a whole lot of fun, and you have to admit it’s definitely better sitting up front than it would have been fighting to stay standing in the sea of hormones jostling at the back. This close up, you can see Jared and Jensen’s reactions much more clearly, too; every secretive grin between them, every twitching laugh line, every aborted glance back in your direction. Laughter rings through the crowd and you refocus your attention on the questions.

“Which one of us is the biggest what?” Jensen speaks into his mic, asking the girl on the opposite side of the stage to you to repeat her question.

“Well I’m the biggest,” Jared cuts in smirking, and the audience cheers and giggles. Jared flashes them a bright, goofy smile.

“Well, that depends on what she’s asking,” Jensen smacks Jared on the arm. The girl tries to ask her question again but she’s laughing through it and the words come out garbled again.

“Which one of us has the biggest pants?” Jared’s brow raises as he incorrectly repeats the question again. You know there’s no way that’s what the girl asked. “That’s still me darlin’.” He turns to your side of the stage goddamn winks, and you flush just as deeply as the girl asking her question. You roll your eyes at him, glad that he probably can’t see you very clearly due to the stage lights shining in his eyes.

“That topic is still up for debate, actually,” Jensen protests seriously.

“No it’s not,” Jared scoffs.

“Uh, yeah, it is.” Jensen’s not backing down. “Costume department compared our measurements bro, they’re the same.”

“You and I both know that didn’t include the measurement they’re talking about,” Jared glares jokingly out at the audience.

There’s wolf whistles and shrieks of delight from the crowd and Jensen bursts out laughing. “You’re gonna give them all aneurysms, man.”

You certainly feel like you might be having an aneurysm. Your blood is pumping hot and hard through your veins. You can actually hear it swirling around your body, leaking out into your capillaries, carrying burning embarrassment and desire to the tips of each vessel.

It’s a running joke, the size difference between you and Jared. He towers over most of the people he meets, so it’s not unsurprising that he towers over you as well. He’s called you ‘squirt’ as long as you can remember knowing him, and you’ve called him every name you can dream up, from ‘sasquatch’ to ‘jolly green giant’.

As you both grew older, and Jared’s physique caught up to his height, and your mind started to take up a more permanent residence in…ahem… lower places than it had inhabited in your youth, you began to wonder just how big Jared would be if you ever… You imagine big. Proportional, at the very least. Though, Jared has always been an overachiever, you imagine it might extend to this measurement as well. You secretly hope, anyway.

You gulp nervously. There’s a reason you and Jared had gotten so trashed the last time you’d hung out, and that was so you could drown your burgeoning crush in some socially acceptable poison and hope it didn’t break its head through the surface. Jared looks back at you and flashes you a smile, probably in relation to whatever he’d just said but you hadn’t been listening, mind too preoccupied thinking about the size of your friend’s dick. You let out a sigh of resignation – you were going to have to get smashed tonight, too.

“Oh,” Jensen’s voice rings through the auditorium as he finally understands the question. “Which one of us did the biggest prank?”

“Uh, Jensen,” Jared answers after a moment of dramatised consideration, “just now when he told you all he has a bigger dick than me.”

There’s an echoing thud as Jensen smacks Jared’s head with his microphone and Jared and Jensen both double up laughing, covering their mics so it doesn’t reverberate around the room. When things settle down after a minute you see Jensen lean towards Jared to say something privately. The mics don’t pick it up, but you’re close enough that you think you hear him say, “later tonight, we’re getting out the ruler.”

The hotel bar is basically empty, but you and Jared are still in a private room at the back so he doesn’t get mobbed by fans if they do happen to wander in. Jensen had joined you for a drink earlier, but he had to leave to perform at the Saturday night concert for the convention.

“Do you ever perform on Saturdays?” you poked at Jared, and both he and Jensen laughed wildly.

“Never in a million years,” Jared shook his head. “I just watch this guy give everyone in the room phantom orgasms all night.”

“Gross, dude,” Jensen shuddered as Jared guffawed but you had to agree, Jensen’s voice was orgasmic.

“Have fun with your ménage a several hundreds,” you waved Jensen off with a giggle.

“You’ll have to join in sometime,” Jensen backed out of the room with a wicked grin, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously and leaving you and Jared laughing behind him.

“You want another one?” Jared asks, pointing at your nearly empty glass.

“If I have any more I’ll have to crawl back to Austin,” you hiccup, the alcohol making you giggle-y and unsteady despite your seated state.

“You’re not goin’ back to Austin, squirt,” Jared protests, drowning the remainder of his own glass.

“Am I being kidnapped?”

“Damn straight. You’re not driving anywhere tonight, don’t be stupid.”

“I was gonna dry out a little first,” you defend yourself. Of course you weren’t planning to drive home drunk.

“By the time you sober up it will be way too late to go back. Just stay the night here,” Jared shrugs, indicating it’s no big deal for you to crash. You think about it for a moment and then agree that staying over is a better plan. Besides, Jared will have a big fancy room since the convention is paying for them to stay here – he’ll have plenty of space for you.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically but you aren’t all that perturbed, and Jared knows it too. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” Jared grins. “C’mon, I’ll grab a bottle from the bar and let’s go upstairs. I don’t want to get caught in the crowd after the concert finishes.” You also don’t want to be mobbed by hundreds of concert goers, so you happily follow Jared out of the bar and up to his hotel room.

Jared flops dramatically onto his bed when you get inside, but you stand by the door, taking in your surroundings. As you’d imagined, the room is lavish. Every piece of furniture is accented with metallics, and every soft surface is heaped with pillows, including the bed Jared is now snuggling back onto. But, you note with a bit of surprise, there is only one bed.

Apparently fancy doesn’t automatically come with multiple beds – and why should it? Jared hadn’t expected anybody to stay the night, he’d only needed the one bed. Had he known there was only one bed when he offered you a place to crash for the night? Or had someone else brought up the luggage that you could see piled at the foot of the bed, meaning he wouldn’t have known what the exact sleeping situation would turn out to be? You’re jolted out of your frenzied contemplation when Jared throws a pillow at your head, though it narrowly misses and hits the door behind you.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night?” he laughs, eyes crinkling.

“Uh, no, course not,” you scoff, hoping Jared assumes the flush creeping over your skin is from alcohol, and not embarrassment. Jared scoots over to one side of the bed and pats the empty space he’s just created. The bottle of whiskey he’d brought from the bar downstairs is propped next to him on the pillows and it bounces as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You reach for it and peel back the foil cap, pulling the cork free with a pop.

“Wanna watch something?” Jared rifles on the side of the bed, digging for his laptop in the bag on the floor.

“Whatever you want,” you shrug.

You inwardly hope watching something might help you control your drunk chatter. Your mind has been wandering to one specific place since the panel this afternoon and you’re hyper aware that when you get tipsy, your filter becomes non existent. You do not want to give Jared an unsolicited insight into your horribly inappropriate mind.

Your eyes shift from the bottle in your hands to Jared’s laptop, now open and sitting on his thighs while he surfs through movie options online. His hands overwhelm the breadth of the keyboard, the pads of each long finger almost bigger than the letter keys they’re hovering over. How far could those fingers reach if they were… No. You curtail that course of thought with a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle and flick your eyes away from his hands.

Jared’s legs are pressed together, gangly limbs and knees scrunched up and pushing the fabric at his hips into ripples. An unmissable bulge sits at the apex of his thighs, distending the denim so it’s stretched tightly across his cock while it’s bunched and wrinkled everywhere else. You swallow hard and tear your gaze away, forcing yourself to look back at Jared’s laptop. He’s stopped scrolling now, and after a moment you realise he’s asking you if the movie he’s hovering over is an okay choice. You nod mutely and take another drink.

“Woah there darlin’, save some for the rest of us,” he laughs, grabbing the bottle from your hands, fingertips brushing over yours as he wraps them around the green glass. You wonder if Jared feels the same pang of electricity that you do when you touch. He’s evidently curious as to why you recoiled so quickly, because he’s now carefully studying your hand and the fingers that had just brushed against his.

Your moment of thick silence is interrupted by the fanfare of opening credits as the movie begins to play, startling you. Jared smooshes himself further back into the feather pillows on the unfairly comfy bed and stretches his arms wide, patting the pillow he’s using as an armrest to summon you to him.

Nervous and giddy all at once, you tuck yourself into the crook of his arm, curling up against his side. Even laying down he feels so much bigger than you. Your eyes drop again, unbidden, to his lap and you rip your gaze away quickly. The whiskey must be settling in now, because you start to feel sleepy and because, for just a second, you think that the bulge in Jared’s crotch looks even larger than it had a few minutes earlier.

Jared pulls you close against him, offering you the whiskey bottle again, and you take it happily. The two of you lazily glug more booze and laugh along with whatever comedy is on the laptop, and you’re utterly content. At some point in time your neck loses its ability to support your head and you topple it sideways onto Jared’s shoulder.

“You comfy there, Y/N?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum sleepily, snuggling even deeper into Jared’s chest, your arm winding itself around his waist of its own accord, and Jared squeezes you against him, laughing softly into your hair.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep – you don’t remember the end of the movie at all. You don’t even remember how you’d wound up under the covers, cradled snugly in the bend of Jared’s body. Wiggling a little to reintroduce feeling into your left arm, you shift backwards into his chest, secretly hoping the arm currently resting on top of the covers might drop around your waist as you continue to sleep.

Arching out to stretch your legs a little, you wind up nudging your hips back into Jared’s and you freeze in shock. Here, pressed close beneath the confines of cotton-swaddled feathers, you feel it… and you can tell – Jared hadn’t been kidding at the panel earlier. He must be bigger than Jensen, because there’s no way anyone could be physically larger than what you feel pressing into the curve of your ass right now.

Your whole body flushes, but you’re too scared to move away lest you wake Jared, so you stay. You try to breathe, systematically unclenching the muscles in your body from head to toe and allowing yourself to relax against your bed companion. Darkness settles around you when your eyes drift shut again but the light from Jared’s laptop still casts a faint blue tint against your eyelids.

That comforting blue morphs into a shocking orange, and your eyes squint against the unexpected source of light now coming from the open door. Seconds later it’s even brighter as the lights in the room are switched on to reveal Jensen leaning casually against the back of the door, smirking in the direction of the bed. Behind you, Jared has jolted awake, sitting up and pitching you forward into the mattress with the force of his disturbance.

“Jay?” he asks blearily, yawning through the word.

“Why did I have a feeling this is what I’d be walking into tonight?” Jensen answers with a laugh and a kind roll of his eyes. You look sleepily between both of the men, confused as all hell.

Finally, it occurs to you why Jensen must be in the room – and why there had only been one bed.

Part 2 now up as an exclusive commission on my website!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eddiesgirl @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20 @sams-sass @calaofnoldor @thinkinghardhardlythinking

#spnkinkbingo #size kink #jared x reader #friends to lovers #surprise ending

129 notes · View notes

tefilovesreading · 3 years

Text

It’s a match! Part. 2

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None, language but that’s it.

A/N: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED.

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 3

“What do you mean he sent you a good morning text?” Jo asked, almost choking on her toast.

“He asked for my number last night,” Y/N explained, her hands shaking while she tried to unlock her phone, “and when I woke up, I had a text from him saying good morning and wishing me a good day.”

“Damn the boy is a keeper,” her friend whistled and winked at her after she read the message.

“He told me he wanted to FaceTime.”

She sat on the stool next to where her best friend was sitting and rested her chin on her hand. The butterflies in her stomach felt more like hundreds of bees buzzing fiercely in there.

“And you?” Jo questioned with an intrigued look on her face, “do you wanna do it?”

“I think so,” Y/N answered, biting the inside of her cheek, “he’s really cute, and I had fun texting last night.”

“Well that’s a new one,” the ginger girl joked. All their friends knew how much Y/N hated texting, leaving messages on read for days, or taking absolutely forever to respond. She always felt weird texting, not knowing very well how to keep the conversation going over text.

“Tell him you have thirty minutes, and then you have to go do something else,” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and Jo rolled her eyes, “that way if you don’t feel comfortable you have an easy exit.”

“And what if I’m enjoying it?” Jo looked at her as if she was trying to explain how the water cycle worked to a kid, “Jo I’m being serious!”

“In that case, my love, you hang up and call him again after you tell me everything.”

“Who said I was gonna tell you anything, uh?” Y/N smirked and blew her a kiss after her friend gave her an offended look.

“Whatever, Y/N,” Jo flipped her off, “just tell him your professor was sick or something like that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, did I tell you that?” Y/N kissed her friend’s cheek and then jumped off, “I’m gonna go take a shower, see you later.”

“See you later, babe,” Jo said, “don’t forget to eat!”

“I won’t!” Y/N yelled, on her way to the bathroom they shared.

Y/N: Good morning! Hope you have a great day too

She smiled satisfied at her reply and hit the send button.

Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she felt so giddy about a guy, it was exciting, to say the least. Charlie seemed like an easygoing person and really easy to talk to. Sure she was nervous talking to him, but who wouldn’t? The guy was super cute and so nice to her, she already knew she’d be crushing hard.

Thirty minutes later, she was on her way to class with time to go to her favorite coffee shop and have a quick breakfast.

Charlie: Didn’t think you’d answer me so early hahaha Y/N: I have a class in like 20 minutes, wouldn’t have woken up this early if i didn’t have class lol Charlie: So you’re not a morning person Y/N: Oh no, absolutely not!!

She smiled at the boy in the cashier and laughed softly when he asked her if she was ordering the same thing she always did.

“Oh, can you add a brownie please?” Y/N asked politely, while she looked for her card on her bag. After paying for her food, she went to one of the tables in the back.

Charlie: Noted! I swear i try to not wake up early but i can’t Y/N: I bet you’re the kind of friend that wakes everyone up with a lot of noise Charlie: How did ya know that hahahaha Y/N: I was just guessing, but you do seem like a loud person Charlie: I am, i won’t try to deny it Charlie: What about you?? Y/N: Mmm Y/N: It depends Y/N: But my laugh is extra loud, so I can’t say I’m a quiet girl

“Vanilla latte!” Y/N put away her phone and stood up to get her order.

“Thanks, Dylan,” she thanked the boy and grabbed a few napkins before making her way back to her table.

Charlie: I bet your laugh is really cute

Her cheeks were burning after that message, and it took her a couple of minutes to tame the butterflies in her stomach before she was able to type a response. Because as much as she wanted to laugh it off and change the topic, she knew he was flirting with her and if she didn’t flirt back, their conversation was basically dead.

Y/N: Guess you’ll have to find out yourself ;).

That was a nice reply, right? She screenshotted their chat and sent it to Jo. If anyone knew how to flirt while texting, it was her best friend.

Y/N: How does it look? Is it too much?? Too little?? Y/N: H E L P

Jo’s response was quick as always. One of the many reasons she loved her.

Jo: Girl it’s fine Jo: Stop worrying about it Jo: It’s mysterious and a good way to tell him you wanna FaceTime Y/N: Ok ok thank you love ya Jo: Love you more

Checking the hour on her phone, Y/N finished her bagel and gathered her stuff. She waved Dylan goodbye and left the coffee shop. She spent more time than she expected to in there and if she didn’t hurry she’d be late for class.

It was times like this one that made her regret not knowing how to drive because even if all her classmates liked the Lyft program they had for free, she still felt unsafe getting in the car without a friend.

Back in the day, when she was still dating Lance, he’d made sure to call her and talk to her during the whole ride to wherever Y/N needed to go just to make her feel safe. After all, he was never a bad boyfriend, their paths just went in different ways and they both wanted different things in life.

Charlie: Yeah i guess Charlie: What if i call you later when you’re done with your classes??Charlie: No pressure

She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks for the second time in less than an hour and had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling.

Y/N: Sure, i’ll let you know once i’m done Y/N: But i have to say bye for now Y/N: Gotta pay attention haha Charlie: Get that degree! Charlie: Talk to you later!

Focusing on whatever her professor was saying was a hard task, she just wanted to pull her phone out and text Charlie, see what he was up to and get home as soon as possible, so they could FaceTime.

Sitting on the edge of her seat, she couldn’t help but bounce her leg to relieve the eagerness rushing through her veins. She still had fifteen minutes left, and then she’d be sprinting out of the classroom and going back to her apartment.

“Dude, do you gotta use the bathroom or what?” Sadie, the girl she always sat with during class, whispered through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” she apologized, crossing her legs to stop herself from bouncing her leg. Although the new position didn’t stop her from moving her foot.

“What’s up with you?” Sadie snorted once she realized Y/N couldn’t sit still.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly, scribbling on her notebook the pages she needed to read for the next class, “I just wanna go home.”

“But you have never been this eager to leave this class,” the girl commented without looking at her, too focused on taking notes, “you love this class.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N let out a sigh and checked the hour on her watch, “I just don’t feel like sitting here right now.”

Her classmate didn’t make another comment about her eagerness to leave the classroom, she just nodded her head as if she was telling her she understood.

“I think that’s all for today, guys,” the professor mentioned, leaning on the desk, “have a good day, and don’t forget to read the articles I mentioned.”

Y/N hurried to gather her things and waved Sadie goodbye before walking as fast as she could to the door. She needed to leave before the halls flooded with students. Y/N considered taking the stairs instead of the elevator but knowing how clumsy she could be, she opted for the latter. Falling down the stairs wasn’t on her plans.

Twenty minutes and a mile later, she dropped her keys on the bowl next to the door of her apartment and kicked off her shoes. She checked her out in the full-length mirror Jo had in their living room and shrugged. Charlie knew she was a college student, and it wouldn’t be weird to see her wearing a hoodie with her college’s logo, also, she was comfy and didn’t want to change into something else.

She fixed her hair and made sure she didn’t have smudged mascara under her eyes and then made herself comfortable on the couch.

Y/N: Just made it home

Y/N: That was one hell of a long class haha

She bit her nails, the nervousness kicking in while she waited for a response from Charlie. Maybe he was busy now that she wasn’t. God if their schedules didn’t let them at least FaceTime, she felt like she’d start crying and delete the app. It wasn’t like she was talking to other guys though.

Charlie: Finally!! Charlie: Wanna FaceTime?? Or are you tired?

“Fuck no,” she whispered to herself before she started writing her reply.

Y/N: Nah! Let's FaceTime

Her heart started pounding on her chest when the video call entered and the phone started vibrating in her hand.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she cursed before putting a smile on her face and answering the call. “Hey!”

Holy shit. His pictures didn’t make him justice.

“How you doin’?” Charlie said and her cheeks blushed.

“It’s that a Friends reference?” she asked trying to hide her smile.

“I swear I don’t mean it in that way,” he laughed, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled made her heart flutter. “But seriously, how was your day?”

“It was good even though I hate waking up early,” the way Charlie was looking at her with so much attention, even if it was through a screen it made her feel so confident, “I had breakfast at this little coffee shop near my apartment and then went to class.”

“But that sounds like a nice morning,” Charlie mentioned, his sweet smile never leaving his face.

“What were you up to anyway?”

“Not much actually,” he shrugged and the gesture made him look young, “I went for a run, then I had to film some tapes for a few auditions, and now I’m chilling.”

“You’re an actor,” Y/N pointed out, not even surprised about the new information he just revealed. It was Los Angeles after all.

“I am,” he smiled, and she swore she could see a pink tint on his cheeks, “I started back in Canada when I was about fourteen or fifteen.”

“Any chances I’ve watched it?” Charlie scrunched his nose and shook his head.

“Maybe, if you are into foreign films,” Y/N tilted her head confused at his answer, “It’s in French.”

“You learned how to speak in French for the movie?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows together when Charlie started laughing.

“I grew up speaking French and English,” he explained with a soft smile, “I’m French Canadian.”

“That makes a lot more sense now,” she laughed off her embarrassment, “I’m gonna blame the fact that I woke up early today. I’m not this dumb, I swear.”

“Don’t worry,” he said and the smile faded just enough for her to notice his intense stare, “I thought it was cute.”

She bit her lip at his words and tried to look away from the screen, but Charlie’s eye contact felt as if he was looking right into her soul and she couldn’t break that connection even if she wanted to. And she definitely didn’t want to do that.

tagged: @chevyimpala00067 @samanthawilliamspring @searchingunderthestars @luke-patt @moneybagmgk @angisbr @happinessinthedarkesttimes @knitsessed @cordeliascrown @crybabyddl @phantompogues @the-romanian-is-bae @doaspeggy-says

#charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie fluff #jatp cast imagine #charlie gillespie

236 notes · View notes

maddogofshimano · 3 years

Text

A Particular Kyoudai’s New Years

Spoilers for Y4 and Y5

This one is extremely near and dear to my heart, it’s so so nice. I had to do a lot of cultural research for it because I didn’t know a whole lot about new years traditions in japan, so expect a lot of notes in this one too.

This one was also a sugoroku event, here’s the chibi Saejima to go with it.

I also really like the details on Majima’s new years outfit, look at the hannya snakes on the fan and on the liner fabric!

That was the only card I put real life money in to get, I spent so many diamonds on him. I had saved up around 7k and ground out another 7k from stories I hadn’t done yet and still had to put in 10 bucks before I got him, but I still have every single Majima card so it’s worth it.

Summary: At the end of 2012, Saejima has been served his papers to go back to jail, and will be going back in a week. Majima decides that they should celebrate this New Years in a big way then! Saejima would really rather just stay home, but Majima has a whole day planned out and it’s going to end with a bang.

It’s New Years Day, 2013. Saejima will be returning to jail in a week, and is currently with Majima in the family office. Saejima complains that Majima is already drinking, Majima retorts that New Years is a drinking holiday, so he’s gonna drink! Saejima doesn’t feel much like celebrating since Kiryu’s still in the hospital.

Saejima: You're too youthful, kyoudai. How are ya burnin' even brighter than ya were back then? Majima: You've always been an old man. ...Yeah, that settles it! Saejima: What? Majima: I want my kyoudai to have a great new year! Let's start the celebrations!! Saejima: Wh- all the sudden? Ehhh, let's just have a quiet time together here. Majima: What, just gonna blow me off? Saejima: ...Okay. Where we going? Majima: I'm gonna get us a ride, don't worry! Go get yourself ready. Hey! Nishida! Nishida: On it sir! Saejima: ...? Majima: <changes clothes> Yeah! Now I'm feelin' the new year!

Saejima: ...Are we really goin' out like this?

Majima: Of course we are, idiot! Why the hell else would I get changed!

Majima: Alright! Let's roll out in my favorite yukata~ Saejima: Good grief. Don't get too excited. I guess goin' on a little date can't be helped huh. Well, he'll probably get tired of it right away. (Tl note: date here is 付き合い which is more “associating” in the dictionary but used a LOT for romantic dates)

The two of them make their way to their first stop, a back alley where they’re going to play hanetsuki, which is similar to badminton. Saejima dunks on Majima’s fashion choices. Majima complains that there aren’t enough people around to see his fashion choices.

They finally stop squabbling about fashion and get ready to play only to get interrupted by two goons who start talking shit. Majima asks if they should just beat them up, that could be fun? Saejima says nah, they’re not even worth the effort, besides we were here first so they have to step off. Majima throws his wallet into the air because he’s tired of carrying it, and the goons agree that whoever wins at hanetsuki gets to stay.

Unfortunately, Majima wants to hit EVERYTHING, and collides with Saejima in his attempt to steal a shot that Saejima could have gotten easily. Saejima declares that they each gotta stay on their own side and deal with only stuff on that side. Majima gets bored of playing since he has to actually wait, and zones out while a shot sails right past him.

Saejima is ready to throttle him.

Saejima: Kyoudai! Stop bein' so moody! goon a: Hahaha! You keep calling each other kyoudai but you're not in sync at all (Tl note: this is also like, a match for each other, as in "they are a perfect match for each other") goon b: I guess they're """kyoudai""" huh? Haha. Both: WHO'S NOT IN SYNC, IDIOTS??

They were down 9:0, but from here on play seriously, and come back to win 10:9. The goons jump them, because they want Majima’s wallet full of cash, and unsurprisingly get their asses kicked by the jimas.

Next up they head to Tojo HQ; turns out the Majima Family has rented the whole place out for New Years. Minami has prepared something...

The next stage is kakizome! It’s like a new years resolution. Majima, Nishida, and Minami all get to writing their new years goals, and Saejima thinks he’s kind of old to be doing this, but whatever. Nishida’s goal is revealed first: he wants to build a house for his parents!

Majima: Ughhhh, boring Nishida: I'M SORRY BOSS! Saejima: ...Nishida, why are you in the Majima family...? Minami: Boss! I'm done with mine!! Majima: Let's see if you did good... Minami: Here it is! "REVENGE MATCH"

Minami says that he wants to get as good as Majima, who is clearly better than Saejima, so he needs to get a rematch with Saejima after losing to him 3 years ago. Majima is thrilled, Saejima agrees to the fight. Saejima wins but says Minami is getting stronger, and if he keeps at it maybe he can still fulfil it this year. Majima says he's done with all this new years writing and Saejima says he already wrote his, it's "The Top". It's also the exact thing that Majima wrote down.

Saejima: Back when I was in the Sasai family, I wanted to make a name for him. I felt like I wanted to see how far up the ladder I could climb. I keep that feelin' with me even now. Majima: Hehehe! I think we'll see who's the strongest soon. Kyoudai... even if I'm your opponent, don't give up on that feeling, alright? Saejima: Heh, that's my line

Onwards to stage 3! This time it’s hatsumōde, the first shrine visit of the year.

Saejima: We're doin' this in the wrong order. Majima: Whatever! I'm gonna go pray! Saejima, internally: Kyoudai... why are you makin' such a mysterious face? It's not like you to rely on a god Saejima: What'd you write on your ema? I already got my miracle Majima: Don't worry none about me. Next we're drawin' you a fortune! Saejima: ...? Saejima: So this is the fortune huh... oh! Major blessing! (Tl note: the luckiest possible draw) What's it say, what's it say... "You are going to have the best fight of your life"... Wow, this is one dangerous shrine! What the hell?

Saejima immediately gets jumped by a goon. Those fortunes work fast, huh? He wins easily and threw the goon into the ema wall and knocked them over, and when he was picking them back up he found Majimas which said "I wish that Sasai will recover"

"Thank you so much. Kyoudai."

Next we’re doing fukubukuro, new years blind bags that have random items at a discount. The guy selling them sure looks reputable!

They both buy one and head over to the park to open them, but Majima gets a call that the Majima Family office has been robbed! Everyone was at Tojo HQ, but they’re looking for who did it now. Even Majima’s safe was opened and the contents taken. Majima apologizes and has to run off to the office, leaving Saejima to open the bags himself. The first one has............... a snakeskin jacket? He knows Majima custom orders these! The shop keeper!

Saejima goes back and kicks his ass and recovers all the Majima Family items in time for Majima to come back. The item in the safe was a wedding ring, and Majima apparently hasn’t told Saejima anything about being married. Saejima wonders what else Majima has gone through while he was in jail.

Now we’re doing osechi, traditional new years food! Nishida made a dish, and here’s the general meanings of what all he put in them:

tai - good luck ebi - long life kazunoko - wanting a lot of kids in the coming year (Tl note: this one caught be off guard but it’s PROBABLY wanting to grow the families lol) roast beef - no special meaning date maki - more good luck

Two Majima family guys are out in front of HQ making mochi, but they got way too much. Minami ate so much of it that he collapsed, but Saejima refuses to let this rice flour go to waste, so he and Majima head out to theater square and just start making mochi there. Minami and Nishida are selling it to everyone, and it’s a huge hit.

(This guy is saying it’s really delicious, but his face is looking like they just shot his dog)

Some dude hassles them about the mochi, they kick the shit out of him, and get down to their final two. Majima says he knows exactly who he wants to give them to, and takes Saejima to Yasuko’s grave.

Saejima thinks to himself that there's no question about it, when he's not around Majima is always taking care of this grave. He tries to give Majima the "thank you so much" line but Majima brushes it off as something he just felt like doing, nbd

Majima: Well, Majima Goro's present to you this year is this new year's tour. Did ya like it? Anythin' ya still wanna do? Saejima: Nothin'. This whole day has been a lot of fun. Majima: That so? Good, then it's time for the final stop. Let's go... kyoudai.

Majima: It's been a long time since we've been here. Since that fight Saejima: Yeah. Why's this the final stop of our tour? Majima: Heh, why indeed? ..............I decided on that night that if it was the end, I wanted to go all the way, but I didn't get to. And now, you're going back to jail. Leaving things all pent up and half done just isn't in my nature. Saejima: Did you do this whole tour just for this? Majima: More or less. Well, there were some troubles on the way. Hanetsuki for a warm up. New Year's writing to make sure ya still had that fire in ya. Saejima: And that fortune saying I'd have the best fight of my life... I shoulda figured somethin' was up. Majima: Does it hurt to just get that now? And the grab bags... that went kinda sideways, but I intended it to be some stress relief. And then deliscious food is good for ya mentally and physically. Saejima: I'm amazed at how into this you are. Do you remember what you said before? "You're gettin' soft, come back to the Tojo clan with your teeth sharpened. If ya get soft, it's over for you". <RECEIVE AND SLASH YOU CUTS IN> Well, let's check if my fangs are soft now. Majima: ...Hehehe. Yeah, that's the look I wanna see! That's Saejima Taiga... my kyoudai! Saejima: Let's go, Majima!!

They fight and both collapse to the ground and gush about how much fun this all was. The ending card then cuts in

A few days later.......... Saejima Taiga himself suspended his probation and turned himself in. He was sent to Abashiri prison. Majima continued supporting Daigo and the Tojo clan. In their pursuit of climbing all the way to the top of the Tojo clan.............. these two beasts will keep fighting.

<END>

Whew! Also, ouch!!

I also translated most if not all of Saejima’s thoughts, here’s some of the highlights.

Batting Center I went with my kyoudai to the batting center. We used to bring Yasuko stuff like homerun prizes as gifts. ...I miss her. Wood Carving As part of my penal labor I learned wood carvin', so now it's a hobby of mine. One is being displayed by the entrance to HQ.

Kanrai I joined up cause of my patriarch. The Sasai Family was a respectable and good family, which I should feel good about, but I just feel sorry

Purgatory Coliseum Why would you fight a tiger? People really are fuckin' idiots nowadays. I'm going to make em stop. The tiger's miserable. Kyoudai Wearin' an eyepatch and makin' a ruckus... He really changed a lot while I was gone, but the same roots are still there. He really is Majima Goro. Hair style In the old days I would let my hair grow out until Yasuko complained, but going with the shaved look ain’t too bad. This is the only thing I can empathize with Shimano on.

Stray Cats These cats were abandoned. I've already gotten attached. Well, I guess the number of cats in the family office is gonna increase...

Clothes Even now I still wear the clothes I got from Kiryu. Heh. That guy has good taste. I’m still wearing hand-me-downs. Karaoke It’s not that I hate singing, but I don’t like doin’ it in front of people. I’ll play the tambourine though.

#rggo #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #yakuza #Majima #Saejima #Nishida #Minami

150 notes · View notes

orange-waterfalls · 4 years

Text

Just Dance for the Nintendo Wii

Yancy x gn!reader

ty anon for the request!

A/N: Shit was so fun to write I swear. Just Dance was my childhood. I had a thing about memorizing all the dances in all the songs in all the games I got. I also didn’t actually look at the moves in the corner I just watched the dancer lmao. And when I found out other people didn’t do that I just ???it’s so much easier???? I might’ve projected onto Yancy a lil bit. It’s a fun fic! It is a fun and light-hearted fic, I promise. Couple curse words. TW mention of smoking and cigarettes. That’s about it. I think it could be seen as platonic or romantic. Reader does call him “babe” at one point but I call my friends darling and sweetie so I think it’s fine. Might be a few typos since I never read through my fics lmao. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.9k

Lunch ended and you immediately shot up out of your chair, making your way down the hall. Your friends stared after you, slightly offended you didn’t even bother saying goodbye. You would have any other day, but this was important.

You stomped your way to the warden's office, pushing past the guards who mostly just gave you confused looks. You would have made your way around them, asking them to make some room, but this was important.

You kicked the door open and stomped up to the desk. The warden jumped and put a hand over his heart. You were not an aggressive person. Really, you weren’t. But this. This was important. This was the most important thing you ever came up with.

“Jesus, child, you ever heard of knocking?” He breathed, exasperated. He looked like he was gonna keep talking, so you slammed your hands on his desk. A few months before, he probably would have had you thrown in solitary for even walking in there. But you’re a good person, and you behave for the most part. So he raised an eyebrow and waited for you to make whatever point you wanted to make.

“Wii,” you said, simply. He blinked a couple times.

“Beg pardon?” He laughed. You were on a bit of a power trip and wanted to respond with “then beg”, but the conversation probably would have ended there. You made it this far without breaking down, you couldn’t stop now.

“I want a Wii,” you said, slowly. The warden squinted at you before chuckling a little. You glared daggers at him. Laugh at you, will he?!

“Now, kiddo, that ain’t--”

“Shut up. I don’t care. I just need you to listen.” He gave you a look and leaned back in his chair. You quieted for a moment, thinking about exactly what you were gonna say. You honestly hadn’t thought you’d make it this far.

“Go ahead, I’m a busy man,” He shook you out of your thoughts. You squared your shoulders.

“Yancy likes to dance,” you stated. You stared at each other in silence for a moment as you prepared your words in your head. He waved his hand, telling you to keep going. You cleared your throat, “Yancy likes to dance… and we don’t have access to the internet.”

“And you’re not going to.” He warned.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured…” You sighed. “But that’s not what I’m here for.” He knitted his eyebrows together in intrigue.

“Alright…” He leaned forward, arms on his desk.

“Yancy can’t keep coming up with songs and dances when he gets bored. It takes a long time, and he’s getting burned out. I think that if we had another- if we had access to prepared dances and songs, it’d be better.” You stuttered. That’s okay. As long as he was listening. “I think if we had a… a game, a dancing game. Like Just Dance on the Wii or something, then we’d be better. Happier? I mean, we’re happy, but… more-more happy. There’s never… too much… happy…” You lost yourself towards the end there. You started shaking a little as the whole situation hit you like a train. What the hell were you doing? This is a PRISON, not a middle school. Why would they want you to be happy? Oh, this was a stupid idea… no. You made it this far. Sure this was stupid, but you were NOT going to back down. Not until you got a-

“Ok.”

“Huh?” You asked, dumbfounded. You stared at Mr. Murder-Slaughter, and he stared right back. “What’d you say?” He stood up from his desk and walked over to you. You fought the urge to book it and stood your ground. You puffed up your chest a little to look intimidating. From the smirk he got on his face, it wasn’t working.

“I said, ok.” Your shoulders dropped and you let out a shaky breath.

“Really? I mean… really?”

“Sure, why not. Boosts morale, stops people from wanting to escape.” He shrugged. You stood there, mouth agape, probably looking like a moron.

“Thanks.” You murmured. He smiled at you, and you smiled right back. He took your shoulders and spun you around towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, now get outta here! You’ve got dishes to do!” He pushed you out, and you gave him one last smile before running down to the kitchen. He watched you trip over your own feet and shook his head. You ran past a guard, who heard the noise and got confused.

“What the hell was all that?”

“Fuck around and find out!”

---

You startled awake to the sound of talking coming from outside your cell. You rubbed your eyes and looked around, not seeing your cellmate. You sighed and managed to lift yourself up out of the bed. You stretched and heard your back crack in several places. That sounded… worrying to say the least, but you had other things on your mind. For example: where was everyone?

You made your way through the prison, eventually ending up in the common room where everyone was talking over each other excitedly.

“Sorry, forgot to set the alarm!” A guard apologized. You nodded at him. You turned and saw Tiny and slid over next to her.

“What’re we doing? Is it Thursday already?” You whispered.

“Nah, warden bought a game system,” she answered. You stared at her, mouth open slightly. “Keep staring at me we’re gonna fight.”

“Uh, sorry.” You blinked and looked forward, standing on the tips of your toes to try and get a better look. “What gaming system?”

“A Wii. Warden said we each get 30 minutes per week.” She explained. She then waited for you to respond. You didn’t.

“Dude, you alright?” She gently reached out and shook your arm.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m good.” You mumbled. “He buy any games yet?”

“Uhhhhh Super Mario Bros, Kirby’s Epic Yarn, Animal Crossing, Smash…”

“Mm-hm, mm-hm, as he should.”

“I think those Wii Sports games…”

“Just Dance?”

“Don’t know. Said to talk to him if there’s a game you want.” You nodded and gave her a small fistbump before walking over to the warden, who stood away from the group. You leaned over and saw BamBam and Sparkles in a heated game of Smash Bros. You stood next to the warden and watched.

“So, you actually listened to my request?” You looked up at him in slight disbelief.

“Course I did. Why not? Like I said, boosts morale.” He smiled. You nodded and you both looked forward again.

“How much was it?” You inquired.

“$100 on eBay.”

“Deadass?!”

“Absolutely. Great condition, too. Been used before, but not necessarily broken.”

“Come with the games?” “Some. Had to tell the guy I was buying it for my foster kids for him to give them to me. Them along with the Wii is what made it $100.” He explained

“So, we’re your kids now?” You snickered.

He only answered with a hum. You looked at him, blinking rapidly.

“What?” He said in a defensive tone.

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!” You waved him off. He crossed his arms in a huff but dropped it.

“Buy Just Dance?”

“In the back. Saving it for when Yancy shows up.”

“Shows up? He’s not here?” “No. He went to the yard when everyone gathered here.” You hummed and looked down, thinking.

Why did Yancy leave? Did he not care about it? Did he not want to play? That would complicate things a little…

“Instead of speculating, why don’t you go ask him?” He scoffed. You looked at the warden, scandalized.

“You’re an easy person to read, child.” He set a hand on your shoulder. “He might be out in the yard.” You sighed and walked away from the cheering crowd as BamBam pumped his fists triumphantly and Sparkles fell to his knees.

---

You opened the door to the yard, peeking out to see if anyone was there. Lo and behold, there he was, Yancy, sitting on the grass having a smoke. You walked over to where he was and plopped down next to him. He jumped a little, but breathed harshly once he saw it was you.

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” You queried, softly.

“Hm.” He grunted in response.

“Everyone’s inside… having some fun…”

“Hm…”

“I think Jimmy might play Animal Crossing…”

“Hm.”

“Yancy, what’s wrong?” You sighed and turned your body towards him a little.

“Nothin’, nothin’s wrong.” He lied. “C’mon, man, we both know that’s a lie.” You tilted your head to look at him. He avoided your eyes.

“Yancy.” You said sternly. He faltered a little hearing your concern. He glanced at you. Your eyes softened. “What’s wrong?”

“Is just… I never really gots to play games when I was young… and… I dunno… don’t know… how to...” He mumbled. You nodded in understanding, shifting until your shoulders were touching his. You stared at the fence while Yancy kept smoking. You tried not to cough when he exhaled his smoke, but you couldn’t help it. He looked at you apologetically before putting the cigarette out on the grass. You both sat there for a little, enjoying each other’s company.

“So…” you breathed out after a little while. He turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “You’re upset because you don’t know how to play the games?”

“‘N I’ll look stupid while playing ‘em, yeah.” He finished with a scoff. A smile grew on your face.

“I know a game that’ll be really easy for you…” you sang. He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“...what is it?” He hesitated. You bit your lip to keep from giggling as he looked at you worriedly.

---

“Wait, so… the hell is Just Dance?” Yancy scratched his head as you led him back to the common room. It was late, and everybody else was back in their cells. You convinced a guard to let you out by pretending you were gonna cry.

“It’s a game where you dance,” You said in a condescending tone. “Come on, Yance, use deductive reasoning.”

“I’on even know what that means,” He argued playfully. You brought him to the small TV, handing him a remote as you turned it on.

“It just… There are songs with dances prepared, and you have to do the dances as you see them on screen. Got it?” You looked up at Yancy, who was busy staring at the glowing screen of the tv. It was on the Wii home menu, so there wasn’t much to see. However, to Yancy, it was one of the coolest things he’d ever seen.

“Whoa whoa whoa, wassat?” He pointed at the screen and jumped a bit when he saw the cursor move as he moved the remote. He shifted it over until it was on the Mii Channel.

“Uh… that’s the place where you can make a little avatar of yourself. It works on some of the games, but not Just Dance.” You explained. “...you wanna make a Mii?” He pouted and gave you puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes and stood up, bringing your Player One cursor on the screen and clicking the channel.

You told Yancy the mechanics, how to change everything, and what to do once he was done. You made your own Mii, explaining everything along the way, and told him to make his once you were done. Yancy, being the creative boy he is, spent half an hour on his Mii, trying to get everything perfect. You just stood next to him, trying not to yawn. Like I said, it was late. Eventually, he finished and you both got to see your Mii’s next to each other, along with some other people’s. He kept dragging his over next to you, trying to force them to interact. He got very upset when you told him they couldn’t hug or anything. He let you exit out of the channel and go into Just Dance.

“Any particular song?” You scrolled through the songs, letting them play for a couple seconds so he could know what each was like.

“Stop!” He called. “Go back.” You scrolled back to the last song you let play.

“Britney Spears? Serious?” You teased. It was all in good fun, you loved her too. Who wouldn’t?

He grumbled a little to himself. It sounded a little like “not my fault her songs bop”. You breathed out a chuckle and clicked the song, whisper-singing the lyrics as you did.

“My loneliness is killin’ me… Blue, green, orange, or pink?” You asked. After not getting an answer, you looked at Yancy to see the problem. He was frowning at the screen. “Yance?”

“Why’re they all girls?”

“Because it’s a traditionally girl-ish song.”

“I’m not a girl.”

“I know you’re not. Just pick a color.”

“Why are they cheerleaders?”

“Because they can be. Yancy, pick a color.”

“But why-”

“Yancy I swear to God pick a fucking color.” He hummed and then picked blue. You picked green.

You got into the same stance as the girl on the screen, and Yancy copied you. The music started up, and you started dancing. Yancy seemed a bit startled as he hurried to copy you. He wheezed out a little laugh, flailing his arms a little, trying to figure out what move you were on. You bit your lip to not laugh at him. You both kept going, and Yancy eventually got into the rhythm. He stuck his tongue out in concentration and you stared for a moment, not believing how adorable he was. Then you remembered that there was a winner in this game so you shook your head and kept dancing.

Eventually the song ended, and you both breathed a little harder than normal. You looked at your scores, and found that you'd won. You clapped your hands and cheered. Yancy crossed his arms.

"Whatever, this is my first time!" He scoffed. But you could see the smile on his face. You stretched your arms and yawned, turning the Wii off and leaving the remote.

"Welp, we should get back--" you turned to head towards your cell.

"No!" Yancy stood in front of you. You tried to go around him, but he kept blocking your way. He grabbed your shoulders and held you in place.

"I want a rematch."

"Yancy, it's late…" you whined.

"Just one more! Please?" He pleaded. He, again, gave you those puppy dog eyes you could never say no to. You sighed loudly, grabbing the remote again and turning the Wii back on.

"I don't understand why you can't do this yourself…" you mumbled, clicking on Just Dance again.

"I… like spending time with you," he said softly. You squinted at him.

"You'd feel awkward dancing alone, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Fine."

"Ooh! Let's do--"

"Nah, nah, nah. You're keeping me up. I get to pick the song."

"...'This is Halloween'?"

"Bet your ass."

"But that--"

"Shut it, Yancy, I'll leave."

"Okay! Sorry…

"..."

"...can I be the pumpkin?"

"Of course you can be the pumpkin, babe."

---

You woke up really tired in the morning. You didn't know when you got back to bed, but the guard that let you out was asleep by the door when you arrived. You didn't even consider escaping, you were so tired. You just entered the cell and shut the door behind you.

In the morning, you got up and dragged yourself into the common room again. Everyone was playing the Wii again. You rubbed your eyes and stood next to Tiny.

"Fuck happened to you?" She scoffed.

"Yancy happened…" you yawned

"Ah. Long night, huh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Ye-no. Wait, what? No, gross. We played Just Dance."

"Oh, was it fun?"

"For the first couple. The rest I was way too tired to be happy about…"

"Aw, did wittle baby need theiw nap?" She teased.

"I'm not wi-little! I'm not-I'm not little! Shut up!" You complained as she laughed.

"Well, Jimmy played Wii tennis against a guard. Now he's playing the warden."

"Seriously? Oh my God."

"He's currently the reigning champion."

"Who's going against him next?" You hear a thud, like someone fell.

"Got-dang it!" Mr. Murder-Slaughter yelled.

“That’d be me,” She patted you on the back before walking up next to Jimmy. Mr. Murder-Slaughter passed her as she walked, limping. He stood by you.

“You seem to be having fun.” You teased.

“Ah, shut it…” He growled and rubbed his arm. “How’s Yancy?”

“He’s good. He likes the game a lot.” You explained.

“I’d hope so, otherwise there was no reason to buy this thing.” He scoffed.

“Eh… I dunno about that…” You listened to Tiny laugh loudly from where she stood in front and smiled. You turned your head a little and saw Yancy leaning against the opposite wall. You caught each other’s eyes. He nodded his head to the Wii. You shrugged and walked up. He did the same.

Once Tiny and Jimmy were done with their match, Jimmy keeping his title as champion, you and Yancy walked up to the wii, taking the remotes and clicking Just Dance.

“What song should we do?” You scrolled through the list.

“Avril Lavigne!” Someone yelled from the back of the room. You had a sneaking suspicion of who it was, but kept it to yourself.

“Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne it is!” You clicked the song.

“Uh… I don’t know this song, bud,” He whispered to you. You clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh you’re gonna love it.”

“I’m not sure I like that look.”

“Calm down, it’ll be great.”

“Okay… can i be the punk girl?”

“I wanna be the punk girl…”

Cue the puppy eyes…

“...fine, you can be the punk girl.”

#yancy iplier #yancy markiplier #ahwm yancy #yancy x reader #yancy x y/n #yancy x you #yancy x gn!reader #yancy x male!reader #yancy x female!reader #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x male!reader #x female!reader #x gender neutral reader #ahwm x reader #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier ego fanfic

213 notes · View notes

jrueships · 3 years

Note

i know you posted it like 5 days ago but please go into detail about joel/brad i am intrigued

OKAY SO . It all started with 'bradley beal keeps trolling the sixers, SPECIFICALLY joel embiid' and embiid's response was just "Shut up" which honestly kingshit like wizards were getting swept why is bradley going insane asylum???? BUT after the games they...

SO ... what *I* read into it was rivals who banter and annoy each other incessantly but just enough to create the romantic tension of a begrudgingly respect. We all KNOW about Joel's kinda very cocky humor. Though he IS cognizant of his confidence, so he brags with a purpose (unlike pg who just does it for ego really). He wants to get in opponets' heads and make em mad. A true troll! But with beal it was different. Bradley fought hard against them even if they were outclassed and he didn't lose any hope, and I think joel can really respect that. He never gave into any old teasing technique and joel didn't really try any against him tbh! And I think that's because he knew he didn't have to because Brad is just a kinda laid back cheeky kinda guy now! Also bradley can take Joel's jokes and taunts really well instead of just getting mad and giving up. It seems like a ship that has very good back to forth banter where there isn't a clear aggravater for all the clashes. Sometimes beal is the little shit. Sometimes joel!!! It's an even matched battle of the wits and the comedy!!!

Though I think joel is definitely better at the new gen z humor while bradley is still kinda catching up. He makes joel cringe sometimes but joel can't help but continue being invested in his funny little antics!

Also um .. height difference lol . BUT really what drew me to it was their bickering dynamic. Both probably finding the other super annoying but can't help but be amused by the other's shenanigans!!! Joel could easily just. Push bradley over and smite him but he doesn't because bradley is just Too funny to banter with and doesn't back down!

ALSO also they both have similar styles on helping the rookies! Like they're both actually really supportive to them but also LOVE to pull at their strings and make them groan like embarrassed teenagers. It's a teasing kind of platonic love! Idk I'm weak for couples who'd make great 'parents' to the rookies. Joel properly calls his rookies his "little ones" and Brad calls his rookies "his kiddos"

BUT the main fic that is fueling this is my wip superhero au fic about them going against Ice Trae (trae with ice powers. I know. I get 5 damage everytime I write their superhero names.) And his (sidekick) supervillain partner Cool Collins (john Collins with .. wind powers. So he can like. Carry and aim the icicles trae makes. Shoot em out LMAO). The battle happens on Washington turf so beal, a B class hero with simple wizard powers (silly magic tricks), is there to stop him but to his surprise, The Process, Joel embiid whose powers basically increase the longer a fight goes on but restart when a fight is done, jumps 'to his aid' mainly because he doesn't believe Beal is strong enough to fend off the two villains LMAO. He's just there to rub in his strength to Beal's face. Banter ensues, they both kinda get in each other's ways. It's two dumb people vs two dumb people because trae and John are also very dumb. They have chemistry but they're just... really stupid. Like in one part trae needs to hydrate for more ice so john gets him a glass of water... from the lake. Trae spits it out and I like "bro wtf why did u give me salt water???? That just dehydrates u more??" And john genuinely is surprised at his negative reaction, "??? What do u mean it dehydrated u?? It's WATER??? that's literally the opposite of its??? Function???? Sorry I wanted your water to have some flavor in it bro! What are you???white??? Can't stand salt?????"

And meanwhile brad and Joel are just competing against each other by showing off their powers. Joel just collapses an innocent building to show off then brad rebuilds it. It's just a ton of dumb people being dumb with each other

But there's mandatory "one person saves the other but then they get saved by the other". Joel pushes beal out of the way and shields him from a collapsing giant icicle that just shatters all cool against his durable back. He kinda smirks down at Beal underneath him and goes "you're welcome, little man" and beal rolls his eyes and laughs. But then a blast of wind sends them tumbling too close off a cliff. Beal grabs hold of a ledge and catches the falling joel by creating a teleporting portal under him. Joel lands safely and Beal, while still scrambling for purchase on a cliff, grins at him all cheeky-like and replies "my pleasure, big man"

BUT YEAH... it's just a really good dynamic! I'm a sucker for good switching banter despite my hatred for writing dialogue 😭 but like even younger Joel and Brad are so good with each other. Younger Brad was a lot more snappy and moody so I think joel would have a lot of fun bothering him LMFAO. They cameo in my highschool theater tech markelle fultz x jazz piano player theater geek de'aaron fox.

Basically joel is on the tech crew as well, a senior/junior (I'm still deciding). But he's SUPPOSED to be supervising markelle and helping him with the lights and sound during a jazz concert but of COURSE he's too unbothered to and just spends the night playing nintendogs on the ds (he's just there for the mandatory community service hours) . When he finally notices that markelle is drifting off with the spotlight and keeps aiming it at Fox instead of Donovan during his drum solo, joel kind of gets up and is like "hey... I should stop this..."

But then he thinks and sits back down like "hrm... nah I'm too lazy lol. I still need to teach my dog how to sit." And just goes back to not helping.

So bradley, a senior/junior stage manager calls them on their shared radio. First fultz picks up the walkie talkie so brad is all nice to him and has a kinder tone like "heey fultz buddy<3 can you please put Joel on the radio please? Thank you dude, you're doing greaat <3!!" And as soon as Joel gets on the radio he just starts screaming at him KABDISJWBDA like "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN EMBIID?? yOU DUMB BITCH!!! GET OFF YOUR LAZY ASS AND REPOSITION THAT LIGHT!!!" And joel just replies "no." So then beal reveals the reason why joel is letting markelle get away with taking the spotlight off donovan's drum solo, which is "YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS THAT DONOVAN TOOK YOUR SPOT ON THE JAZZ 1 BAND BECAUSE /YOU/ GOT KiCKED OUT FOR PLAYING THE PORN SONG ON THE XYLOPHONE." which REALLY gets joel going because it's true lmao. They start arguing on the phone, joel defending his actions by saying "fultz is MY little. He can do whatever he wants!!" And brad replying "Shut the fuck up. Go be a supervisor and fix your shit!!"

Eventually they get so caught up in arguing with each other that they just forget about the whole situation altogether because they're THAT angry with each other.

Markelle eventually repositions the light when he comes to the gay epiphany that fox doesn't NEED a spotlight to shine because he'll always be beautiful no matter what or smthin so he shines it back on Donovan and everything resumes normally

buT yEAH! There's my essay that really doesn't explain why my mind works the way it does <3 but it's written anyways LMFAO I hoped it helped somewhat!!!! THANK you for asking I LOVE talking about my nonsense rarepairs even if they still end up being nonsense LMAO

#brad/joel #THEY MAKE SENSE IN MY HEAD #u just gotta be in it to believe it #ted asks #ted drabbles

5 notes · View notes

lewishamil10n · 4 years

Note

Hey sweetie, if you're still taking prompts I'd love to share an idea! It's about Dean going to the dentist (well, more like Sam making him go xd) and concludes with him getting high on anesthesia, he then forgets that Sam is his husband and starts to hit on him which makes Sam laugh his ass off. So yeah, if you can write it that would be great and if you can't it's okay! Ly!! 💕💕

hey britney!!!! i love you and i love this prompt so much, thank you!

–

Sam checks his phone, wondering how much longer this is going to take. The dentist said Dean needed a root canal, and that she was going to do her best to finish it in a single appointment, but Dean’s been in there for a while and it’s been... surprisingly uneventful.

It’s almost as if the universe is out to get him; Sam has barely finished formulating that thought when the door to the clinic opens and a harried-looking assistant steps out, mask crooked. “Is there a Sam here?” he asks, looking around the room.

Sam stands. “Um, yeah,” he says. “What’s going on? Is Dean okay?”

“We need your help,” the assistant tells Sam, and waits until Sam follows to go back inside.

It’s been around forty minutes since Dean went in for his appointment, and Sam’s not sure what could have gone wrong. It’s just a root canal, it’s not exactly a high-risk procedure, but his brain floods with images of Dean bleeding out through the mouth, lying half-dead on a dentist’s chair. Implausible, illogical even, but Dean’s died of weirder things, and Sam, predisposed to anxiety to begin with, is damn near panicking by the time he gets to the clinic.

He stops short barely two steps inside the clinic. Dean is flailing on his back in the dentist’s chair with a napkin clipped around his neck, looking for all intents and purposes like he’s fighting off a horde of demons. The dentist is sitting just out of arm’s reach of Dean, looking exasperated even over the mask, and just next to her is the sedation tank. She’s got the mask clutched loosely in her hands, and seems to be waiting for Dean to finish panicking.

Which is what he’s doing. Panicking. He’s somehow managed to get hold of the pointy little probe and is waving it around like it’s an angel sword. “Get back!” he tells the assistant, who happens to be standing six feet away. “Don’t touch me!” This one is directed at the dentist, who sighs.

“I never did,” she says. “Do you maybe wanna give me my stuff back?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nuh-uh,” he tells her. “I’m not gonna let you mess around in my mouth--” He stops abruptly when he notices Sam. “Son of a bitch,” he says, sounding a little dazed.

Sam gives him his best non-threatening smile as he walks forward slowly. “Hey, Dean,” he says, holding his hands out. “How you doing, man?”

“Dude,” Dean says a second later. He’s gone completely still, only his eyes moving as he tracks Sam’s movements. “Dude.”

“Yeah?” Sam says.

“You are so hot,” he tells Sam, still in that dazed tone of voice. “Like, insanely good-looking.”

Sam grins. “Thanks, Dean.” He turns to look askance at the dentist.

She sighs again, and holds up the mask attached to the sedation tank. “I managed to give him a hit before he began losing it. He’s high as a kite right now.”

“His first time at the dentist’s?” the assistant asks.

“Second,” Sam tells him. “First one went well, as far as I know.” Though that, he suspects, is probably due to Dean being too wary of Garth’s werewolf strength to kick up a fuss.

“Think you can get him to calm down?” the dentist asks.

“I’ll try,” Sam promises, and then turns back to Dean, only to find him grinning dopily at him. “Uh, Dean?”

Dean blinks. “Sorry,” he says, looking a little sheepish. He sits up in the chair, gaze fixed on Sam. “You’re just--” he laughs a little, “so damn gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” Sam laughs. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He gestures to the probe Dean’s holding. “Think you could hand me that?”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, immediately holding the probe out to Sam. “I’d give you anything you asked.”

The dentist intercepts the probe before Sam can take it, and then hands it off to her assistant. “Get me a sterile one,” she tells him, “and keep it out of reach of this one.”

That seems to remind Dean where he is. “Hell nah,” he tells the dentist, narrowing his eyes at her. “Hell to the fuck nah, lady.”

“Sir,” she says, exasperated. “This should not take longer than an hour, if you’d just sit still and listen--”

“Let me try,” Sam says.

“Good luck,” mutters the assistant as he hands a sterile packet over to the dentist.

“Dean,” Sam begins, voice as soothing as he can make it. “Look, this is probably freaking you out, man, I get it. But it’ll be all right. You’ve handled worse things and you managed just fine, right?”

“I have?” Dean asks, looking confused.

“Yeah,” Sam confirms. “You have. And this won’t take long. You’ll be done soon, and then it’ll be over, right?” He looks to the dentist for confirmation.

She nods. “Yeah. Believe me, he’s not the kind of patient I look forward to following up on.”

“Sorry,” Sam mouths to her before turning back to Dean. “Think you can make it just for a little bit longer?” he asks.

Dean pauses, humming under his breath as he seems to consider this proposal. Then he looks back up to Sam, and asks hopefully, “Will you hold my hand?”

“Can I?” Sam asks the dentist.

“Son, if it’ll get him to calm down you can sit in his lap for all I care,” she tells him.

“Yeah, hopefully it won’t come to that,” Sam mutters. “Okay, Dean, I’ll hold your hand.”

“And you won’t let her do anything messed up?” Dean wants to know.

“I promise,” Sam says, going to stand next to the dentist’s chair. He holds out his hand, and Dean latches on to it, clutching it tightly.

“Thank you, beautiful,” he beams.

The dentist heaves a sigh of relief before putting the mask aside and reaching for the sterile probe she’s just unpacked. The assistant moves into position too, both of them looking eager to get this over with, and honestly, Sam does not blame them at all. Dean can be a huge baby about things when he wants to be, and dental appointments can be scary. The nitrous probably isn’t helping much, too.

Dean holds up a hand to halt the dentist just as she comes near with tweezers and a cotton roll. “Wait,” he tells her before turning his head to look at Sam. “If I get through this alive--”

“You will,” Sam interrupts with a grin.

“--will you give me your number?” Dean finishes like Sam hasn’t spoken.

Sam frowns at him. “You already have it,” he tells Dean.

“I do?” Now Dean looks confused. “How? Do we know each other?”

“Do we--” Sam stops short. “Yeah, we do.”

“This’ll be the gas,” the dentist tells him. Now she looks amused, in direct contrast to her previous annoyance.

“Wait, are we friends?” Dean demands.

“Uh,” says Sam. “Sort of?”

Dean considers this. “Good friends?”

“You’re my best friend,” Sam tells him honestly, smiling a little. He’s not going to lie, it’s a little entertaining watching Dean try to connect the dots.

“Cool!” grins Dean. “And... are you single?”

“No,” Sam tells Dean, holding up his free hand so he can show Dean the ring he’s wearing.

Dean’s face falls immediately and comically. “Damn,” he says, sounding like he’s been told he only has a week to live. “You’re married? To whom? Give me a name, I’ll kick their ass,” he adds, and looks like he means it too.

Sam can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him. Damn, he wishes he could record this. “You, you idiot,” he tells Dean, squeezing his hand. “I’m married to you.”

The assistant lets out a snort of laughter that he quickly covers up as a cough when Dean glares at him. Then Dean turns back to Sam, looking disbelieving. “Really?” he asks. “This isn’t -- this isn’t some kind of joke?”

“No,” Sam says. “Look at your hand, dude.”

Dean looks, and smiles widely when he sees the matching ring. “Cool!” he says again. “We’re actually married!”

“Been for a while,” Sam informs him, grinning back.

“This is great!” enthuses Dean. “Now I don’t have to flirt with you or buy you dinner, I can take you straight home and then we can have all the sex!”

The dentist chokes, and the assistant lets out a muffled cackle from behind the mask. Sam, wishing more than ever that he could record this, says, “Well, yeah, but before that you gotta get through this. Also,” he adds. “Way to be romantic, Dean.”

“I’m hella romantic,” Dean dismisses. “Or I wouldn’t have managed to get married to someone like you. I mean, hell, you’re beautiful, man.”

“Yeah, so you’ve said,” Sam says, still grinning. “Now why don’t you lie down and let the doc work, Dean? Then we can get outta here.”

“And go home and have sex?” Dean asks hopefully.

Sam nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says, letting out a huff of laughter.

“Great,” says Dean, and lies back down again. This time he doesn’t stop the dentist as she puts the cotton roll between his gums and cheek, and, to his credit, doesn’t flinch even when she starts the drill. He just squeezes Sam’s hand, and continues looking at him like he’s hung the moon, until Sam has to look away, suddenly self-conscious.

“Your hair is so pretty,” sighs Dean. It’s the last thing he says before the root canal begins, but it keeps Sam smiling for at least ten minutes. Dean’s adorable like this, holding Sam’s hand and grinning widely at him whenever he gets the chance. He sits through the procedure with all the patience of a saint, and doesn’t complain even once. By the end of the hour, Sam’s beginning to think that jokes aside, Dean does deserve some great sex as a reward.

He briefly reconsiders it when the first thing Dean does upon getting up is slap Sam’s ass very enthusiastically, making him jump, but when he catches sight of Dean’s face he just can’t help but melt. Smiling back in response to Dean’s slightly swollen yet no less bright grin, Sam squeezes his hand and asks, “Doin’ okay?”

Dean nods. “Doin’ great,” he tells Sam through a mouthful of cotton. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Sam says dryly as he leads Dean out. He thinks he might have heard every synonym for beautiful in the last hour.

“And -- and very lovely,” Dean adds.

“Thank you,” Sam tells him, flushing when one of the patients in the waiting room lets out a rather loud “aww!” in their direction. “Come on, man, let’s get you home.”

Nitrous oxide, it turns out, has the strange side effect of making Dean horny as hell. It wears off halfway through the drive home, at which point Dean decides that trying to unzip Sam’s pants while he’s driving is a good idea. Sam only puts up a token protest before pulling over, well-aware that if this goes on they’re likelier to die violently in a fiery crash.

“Yay, sex!” is Dean’s enthusiastic proclamation when Sam stops the car at the side of the road.

“You owe me, jerk,” Sam tells him, taking off his pants and somehow maneuvering his way into Dean’s lap.

“Anything you want, gorgeous,” Dean promises, and Sam can’t help but laugh at that.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he tells Dean, returning his smile.

#wincest #supernatural #say-yes-to-hole #asks #my writing #britney #i had so much fun writing this lmao i could just picture it in my head #hope u like it sweetheart!

185 notes · View notes

accomplice-tendou · 3 years

Text

Chapter Three

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝗼𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲

TENDOU'S P.O.V.

"Crap," I quietly curse as I turn back to face Y/N's car, "I almost forgot to lock it."

After throwing out some garbage in a nearby garbage can, I walk a little ways until I get to Semi's house.

"Yo," I smile as I open up the doors and invite myself in.

"Geez, Tendou what the fuck? You don't knock anymore?" Semi asks.

"Nope," I say proudly as I swing my new bag of cash.

I notice that I catch the eyes of the two of my friends as I slam down the bag of cash onto the table. I see Ushijima's eyes widen as he walks over to me and opens the bag.

"What's in there?" Semi asks impatiently.

"Ah nothing really," I say coyly, "just some cute girl gave me a bit of money today."

"What do you mean by gave?" Semi growls back.

"Well you see, I ran into a pretty girl this afternoon and didn't think much of it until I saw her later on in the bank I was... planning on taking out a loan from."

Semi sighs as he sees Ushijima lift up a wad of cash.

"What bank," he groans as he turns to face the computer behind him.

"I dunno, the one on block 19," I shrug.

I grab a chocolate bar that I had previously bought and take a seat next to Semi.

"What are ya doin' bro?" I ask as Semi begins typing something into his computer.

"Shut up, I'm about to save your stupid ass."

While I eat the chocolate, I watch Semi go through a video recording of the bank from when I was there.

"Ooo see, she's cute right?" I beam as I point to Y/N on the screen.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up? I'm going to erase the security footage from today so back up or I might change my mind."

I roll my eyes as I lean away and sit back down, throwing away the candy wrapper in the trash.

"Man, poor SemiSemi's got something up his ass today," I laugh as I look towards Ushijima.

"Tendou," Ushijima calls to me, "This is a lot of cash to get from one bank teller, am I incorrect?"

"Nah," I agree as I stand up, "I'm telling you I hit the freaking jackpot! Especially with that girl."

Ushijima raises a brow at me when I bring up Y/N again.

"Why do you keep talking about this girl?" he asks as though he doesn't know what a female is, "Are you going to pursue her?"

"I dunno," I shrug, "If I run into her for a third time I don't think I have a choice."

"You already don't have a choice," Semi grumbles from his chair.

"What do you mean?" Ushijima and I both ask our friend.

Semi calls both of us over to him and tells us to watch the screen. We watch the security footage from when I was with Y/N. It goes on as I do some great flirting to Y/N.

"Hell yeah I better! SemiSemi and Wakatoshi-kun are gonna be so proud of me!"

Shit. I didn't even realize I brought up their names.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Ushijima grumbles from beside me.

"God, Tendou you're such an idiot," Semi says as he shakes his head.

"What's the big deal guys?" I say as I try to laugh away the uncomfortable moment.

"Idiot you need to get to keep that girl quiet before she talks to the cops!" Semi yells, "And if you don't I'll have someone else deal with her!"

I look over and see Ushijima nod in agreement with Semi.

"Guys I trust Y/N. I don't think she's gonna snitch," you say defensively, "she's smart."

"How do you know that?" Ushijima asks spiritlessly.

"Do not catch feelings for this girl," Semi warns as he narrows his eyes, "meeting her was just a coincidence and that's all!"

"Alright, alright," I say as I try to calm Semi down, "can you tell me where she lives then?"

Semi groans and mutters something under his breath about how he always does all of the work.

"Tendou," Ushijima calls out to me, causing me to turn around, "you did not answer what I said before. What do you see in this girl?"

"Oi, why are you asking?" I say as I narrow my eyes, "you better not be planning on stealing her from me."

I watch as Ushijima rolls his eyes and focuses back on what Semi is doing.

"You need to stop talking about this damn girl," Semi groans, "she's not your girlfriend, she's a problem."

"I agree," Ushijima adds.

"What?" I exclaim as I'm shocked by what Ushijima has just said, "you're the one who keeps asking me about her!"

Ushijima once again looks away and ignores what I've said to him. Just like him, I then turn back to what Semi is looking at.

"You two need to lighten up," I say as I pat Semi's back.

"Just shut up," Semi says sourly, "here's her address. Copy it and get out of my house."

"Ahh, thanks buddy!" I exclaim as I take a picture of his screen with my phone, "Well wish me luck!"

I'm about to walk out of the room before remembering something and turn back around.

"And don't steal my money," I groan, "I'll be right back for it and it's already counted."

"Like you can count that high," Semi chimes in.

"Bro... you're in such a bad mood for no reason. Relax."

I roll my eyes at my friends before saying goodbye and walking out of Semi's house.

Well, time to give my Y/N a visit.

I can't help but find myself humming happily as I walk back to Y/N's now clean car.

Man, this thing really needed cleaning. Y/N's so lucky to have me watching out for her.

#satori tendo x reader #satori tendou #tendou #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #x reader #x fem!reader

6 notes · View notes

smallestclowninthecircus · 3 years

Text

Season 4 notes

Ep 121: mmmm tape recorder turning on without them knowing goes brrr. AAAhjhdsjfhjdf "do you mind if i call you jon" its like "can i call you elias?" is this the dream guy with the tendrils? who wants to bet the boat is captained by peter lukas? big man if it killed yall how are you still here. oh boy the tape is doin that thing. who do we think it is? did he wake up? hmm. ep 122: lol jon. 6 months!?!? bruh quit movin big man. he just Knows things sometimes you know how it is. nah b/c i can relate to feeling like other ppl/ things arent real, thats the biggest mood BUT i think it is kinda pretentious to entertain the idea that youre the only Real person. If you dont see a body dont believe it. i'll hold out hope for a bit. theres not a new archivist is there? surely i wouldve heard about that. oh god peter what changes did you make. ep 123: web development. hope its about spiders. she blames him. bruh why. if they hadnt done anything the world would've ended piss off melanie. why are ppl acting like he chose to be in a coma for 6 months. we know this they just appear. no longer "head archivist of the magnus institute, london" now he's just "the archivist" covered in spiders? cuz ik the spider has to do with controlling what youre doing and all this stuff but i cant think of how this connects to that. ep 124: ugh vertigo. is michael crew an old man? oooh. fairchild. how did he know it was martin? hmm. GRR I LOST MY NOTES AGAIN. FROM EPISODE 125 - part of 131. ep 131: bruh he's so hard to understand big man ur voice is so low. Jared Hotworth. the boneturner. "the ones i helped find their proper bodies" name a better top surgeon? our favorite trans ally? ep 132: woo field trip into the coffin! static lol. he says "chill out im just poppin in for a quick recall mission" is the rib thing actually gonna work? bruh it feels so odd and contrived but he's an odd man with some odd powers so idk. rip that archivist ayyy statement time. voices? recordings? are those tape recorders? was it the tape recorders? did they pull him back? i hope so b/c if the rib thing actually worked im gonna be so disappointed. ep 133: predicting the lonely? tundra. like the lukases. hmm. sanikova! like sanikov land. so its the hunt? i suppose? yeah. so daisy's clearly rejecting the hunt, which makes sense cuz she doesnt seem to like the entities that much. wait so are we just not gonna talk abt all the tapes playing on the ground?? no? ep 134: not an archival assistant anymore? Adelard Decker (or however you spell it) i recognize that name. 15th power. i was right there are 15. the extinction? im trying to remember what ive heard. oooh spooky. no i gotta be real i dont understand this fear but i'll believe you that its a thing. ew lukas is so squealy. lukas can turn invisible? oh boy. oooh martin put the tape recorders there. lol lukas is worried he's gonna be an avatar of the eye. ep 135: yoo its the third Daedalus statement! maxwell rayner (reiner? reigner?) i dont know who that is but ik its somebody. is he the cult leader guy? church of the divine host? 4 people?? what? did they kidnap somebody and keep them up there?? oh dear jon are you dying? did he try to See or Know or whatever? why does everyone call basira detective lol. ep 136: he was the one from the spider movie that ate ppl right? the special effects artist? is it annabelle cane? "its a joke jon" lol. hmm they wanted to record the therapy session with melanie? i wonder who that is. i almost wanna guess annabelle cane but im not sure. ep 137: this is the one! he went to the other place and read the war statement but it wasnt the one she took. not the music again. sounds like the slaughter. who the heck is eric lol. "the watcher's crown" like the crown of eyes we saw in the piccrew ep 138: oh boy Robert Smirk time. is that elias? as unhelpful as usual. if new powers can be "born" can others die out? did jonah magnus wear the watchers crown? maybe they were born from our fear or maybe our fears were born from them. ceaseless watcher does ceaselessly watch so. idk what you want

big man. yeah jonah for sure did something. ep 139: agnes!! lol that one dude threw off all their plans thats so funny. BUT this does tell us something. the tree in the backyard of the hilltop house? not made by her. it going down didnt kill agnes. im guessing gertrude tied agnes to the house using the tree? u good jon? cuz every time you try to Know smth intentionally it seems like it causes you great pain. how come he can do it accidentally with no problem but the second he wants to know smth of plot relevance he gets a headache or whatever ep 140: lol pagan exultation. classic. "oh thats my rib" lmaoo. ppl are always so mad at jon and his Eye powers except when it benefits them. they're like "oh you shouldnt do that its not right" and then all of a sudden they want to know something and its all "oh cmon jon its the only way" ep 142: oh god jon what did you do. its interesting she's giving her statement in the way that they do when jon Asks. did he see her in the Coffin? and so he's following her? ok cmon jon you're supposed to let them come to you. lmao ikr martin. "start to hear the blood" "suure." lmao ep 143: lol that awkward moment when gertrude is already dead. big J if you die im gonna kill you. bruh. ayo helen? i guess it worked? ep 144: lol this reminds me of that one edgar allan poe story where he kills the old dude with the weird eye. spooky music stuff. lol thats my favorite symptom of a heart attack its hilarious. so its smth abt the location probably? bro i feel like you should write down the numbers idk. 162830165049 564846474827. seems like the distortion? like the kinda thing that causes you to go crazy because of the numbers. oh boy is it the extinction again. bro what?? im?? his dad just died and he's like eh. martin dont be mean. he's being all lonely again. big man ur pushing ppl away. oh god its fucking squealy boy. ep 145: that almost sounds like breekon/hope... Arthur? agnes. aah was he from the lightless flame cult. a tree. lol he's just ranting rn. hehehe fuck landlords amirite. yay someone tells jon outright to go to therapy. now do it big man. ep 146: oh great! the distortion! i'm making a spiral themed building in mc right now! jon maybe accept you did a bad? nah this goes back to what i said before. they're fine with him compelling ppl when its convenient for them but otherwise its "no jon you cant, youre a monster jon" the tapes didnt turn on. i spose that means its not important? i agree with daisy, this seems unecessarily dangerous. ep 147: is that a tape? the first tape? well that went better than i expected tbh. BAHAKJASHDJKF she did the "can i call you jon" like nikola says "elias, can i call you elias?" damn annabelle is such a girlboss. oh! the one thing from the picrew. its been a while since ive connected smth to that. lol all the other avatars always talk abt their patron so lovingly and the jon just. absolutely hates the eye. ep 148: lol thats the most elias thing. "i just like the way it sounds" ep 149: did he disappear? bruhh. ur lonely powers are popping off i guess. oops i accidentally deleted my notes for 150 - 152 ep 153: thats the cult right? yeah. it doesnt sound like the church of the divine host? idk. if it is the church of the divine host then they worship the dark right? so is the eleventh the dark star or wtvr? it almost sounds like the corruption b/c of the oil or grease or whatever. oh dear what happened. oh its the hunters. theyre so annyoing. not an "it" he has a name. he's a person. is this a page from the skin book? ep 154: oh shit this is gerry's dad! oh shit he quit! oh dear god. jon don't you do it. haha martin. yeahhhh... is he gonna tell the others? cuz you know theyre gonna get mad if he doesnt. oh also picrew connection! the bandages over the eyes? yeah thats this im guessing. ep 155: oh good he told them. oh my god what did you do. lol i have no mouth and i must scream. nah you get none of my sympathy you're straight up murdering ppl. its like the desolation, destroying lives to sustain your own. ok but taking their statements doesnt

kill them. oh... bye melanie. ep 156: lmao imagine if the tape recorder spoke back. oh boy decker! i swear we got a statement from him already. oh god mirrors scary. They're gonna eat the body arent they. Yup... sounds like the flesh or the slaughter, but I'm not sure. Could be the extinction for sure. Smth at the center! Like Helen mentioned. God Peter you dick. Ep 157: peter's just so :/ another decker statement i see. a statement about the corruption? hmm. maybe its not abt the corruption. the extinction. lol pandemics. topical. John Amherst. helen? lol i can hear admiral purring in the background. oh cmon helen dont be like that. im trying real hard to like you but you make it so difficult. ep 158: did they fucking free the stranger? im gonna lose it. you absolute dumbass. im sorry who is that? jonah magnus? my guy. peter. you absolute dickhead. that's elias. (im p sure i had this spoiled for me that elias is jonah) oh dear this is her death. god peter you prick. i hope this is a pop off martin moment and not a "martin you idiot" moment. i hope the hunters kill the stranger entity. or she kills them. furry daisy pop off! yeah fuck you peter martin can make his own decisions. you know that clip from Twisted where jafar says "ok what the fuck was that" martin D: ok like i know its gonna work but still D: D: ep 159: peter you bitchboy. because if im alone i cant hurt anyone else. imnotgonnacryimnotgonnacryimnotgonnacry do it do it do it do it. pop off jon. ok its a pretty good idea for a ritual i gotta be honest. she didnt even have to blow it up lol. oh dear that was certainly a noise. "he gets you" did he not have jon already? he's back! our boy is back! awwww thats so cute. ep 160: oh right this is the thing in the safe house. i love him. "obviously im going to tell you if i see any good cows" martin my beloved <3 :)) oh boy who is this. fuckin. people. jonah you dick. gahh. you can tell he's trying to resist so hard lol. ohh. hehe keep an *eye* on him. altho if the extinction is a real thing he needs to be marked by that right? lol he sounds so intense im sorry- i want martin to just burst in and be like "look at this cow i saw!" its so dramatic and for why.

#tma notes #tma

4 notes · View notes

pastelbrachypelma · 3 years

Text

Blind Date

Requested by @swampythesweetsketch ! Thank you for your suggestion and I hope you like it!

“I’m so nervous,” Murray admitted, sitting in front of the mirror and staring at himself. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Dude, c’mon!” Sly retorted, barely looking up from where he was putting a top coat over Murray’s nail polish. “If he doesn’t like you, then I’m Santa Claus!”

“That can be arranged,” Bentley teased. “Seriously, though, Murray. Just be yourself. That’s how to be the most attractive.”

“Yeah,” Murray looked away. “I guess. But…”

“Hey,” Sly slid onto the vanity, gently pushing aside a makeup palette with his tail as he sat directly in front of his friend. “Stop worrying, okay?” He grinned. “You know this guy is into you. You’ve been talking for ages. It’s worth a shot at least, right?”

“Right!” Murray squared his shoulders like he was going into battle, and wasn’t wearing holographic nails and a smokey eye. “Thanks for doin my topcoat for me, Sly. And thanks for helping me with my suit, Bentley.”

“No problem,” his brothers said simultaneously.

Sly patted Murray’s shoulder. “Go get ‘im, pal.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Bentley promised.

Murray smiled, and headed out the door.

“All right, Sly,” Bentley said, “you know what to do.”

Sly grabbed his binocucom and cane. “On it!”

Murray was already nervous enough being in a sizable crowd with bounty on his head, but, just as Sly had assured him, Murray was the best at disguises out of all of them, and nobody would recognize “The Murray” with makeup on.

He liked his makeup look; just a foundation to match his skin tone, a little contour, blush, and a smokey eye. Sly had helped with his nails, and they looked good. It wasn’t like Murray couldn’t have done it on his own, but Sly wanted to help, and he was better at nails than at eyeliner. Murray chuckled to himself, thinking of the last time Sly tried to do a winged liner. He’d looked even more like a raccoon than usual!

He was sitting alone at the table, waiting for his date, like he had been for the better part of an hour. Every time the door opened, he would look up, expecting to see a handsome man looking for his table. But, it was just couples or families. He sighed. He was sure a blind date would’ve been better, seeing as nobody could turn him down just because of his weight, but maybe the guy had guessed, judging by how much Murray talked about recipes. Or maybe he thought Murray was a sissy, or…

The door opened again, to someone by themselves. Except Murray could recognize that tail in his sleep. Sly had a satin jacket over a button-down shirt, hair slicked back. He was wearing the dance shoes they’d stolen from India, and was looking a little lost. Murray was a bit worried for two reasons. The first was that Sly was here at all; had something happened? The second was that Sly could only handle big crowds if he was at a social event. Parties, he liked. There were excuses to mingle in small groups. He had never liked large throngs of people. If Sly has a panic attack…

But instead, Sly found him (after pretending to have been looking for him) and waved. Murray waved back, confused, as Sly strode forward confidently through the crowd.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Sly said, brushing dust off his lapels. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t,” Murray said, a bit confused. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Sly demurred, giggling shyly. “Oh, don’t be silly! How could I ever turn down a hunk like you?”

Murray wanted to laugh. Sly liked playing the effeminate gay. The question was, why was he doing that in the first place? At that moment, the door to the restaurant opened again, and Bentley rolled his wheelchair inside. People who were waiting for a table stepped aside to give him room. He was disguised as well, a cloth hat matching the more casual dark wash denim jacket he was wearing over a black necktie. Murray could appreciate the aesthetic...but he was still confused.

Bentley made his way towards the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, pitching his voice deeper in contrast to the way Sly’s had been more high-pitched. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” He glared at Sly.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Sly pointed an accusing finger at Bentley. “I’m here for my date!”

“So am I,” Bentley said, and Murray smiled, starting to catch on. “One of us has the wrong table and you, buddy,” the turtle wheeled into Sly’s space, making the raccoon step back, hand splayed on his heart in dramatic offense, “are definitely at the wrong table. This gentleman is far too handsome for you!”

“I think he’s just the right amount of handsome,” Sly argues. “Just look at those bulging muscles,” he gestured, and Murray flexed, having a bit of fun now that he was in on the joke. “A man like that deserves the world!”

“Guys, you’re gonna make me blush,” Murray grumbled under his breath. Sly winked before sliding back into character as Bentley charged further.

“And? You still kept this gorgeous man waiting! Look at the poor guy’s makeup! All smudged because you were off…” Bentley waved his hand as he searched for an insult, “vaping!”

Sly gasped. “Do you think I would smoke around such a deceptively delicate flower?! The nerve!”

Murray looked over again as the restaurant doors opened. It was his real date, a buck with gold chains draped artfully around his antlers, dressed to the nines in a slimming suit to complement his slender body. Murray recognized the designer logo on his tie, and felt shame creep up his throat as he thought of his thrifted jacket and pilfered shirt. Even the silk skirt he was so proud of made him feel like a freak next to this guy.

“What’s going on here?” The buck spoke, his voice like molten chocolate, as he approached the table. “Which of you is Murray?” His eyes slid approvingly over Sly, and Murray hid his face. “I hope it’s you, handsome.”

“Sorry,” Sly slid in beside Murray, hooking his arm through the hippo’s. “I’m taken. Happily.”

“Me too.” Bentley took Murray’s hand, glaring at the buck.

The deer narrowed his eyes, then laughed. “Oh, thank god,” he said, relieved. “I could never be seen with such a,” he waved his hand derisively, “hideous beast.”

“Hey,” Sly said, voice sharp despite the different pitch. Murray recognized it as the raccoon’s “don’t fuck with me” voice, a rarely seen anger flashing in his eyes. “Murray is amazing! He’s funny and kind and always knows what to say!”

“His strength and skill can’t be matched!” Bentley agreed.

“And tonight, he’s my date.” Sly declared. “So fuck off.”

“No, he’s my date,” Bentley argued. “You fuck off!”

As his two friends bickered, Murray watched the deer walk away. He felt a little bit upset at the rejection, but his friends were nearby, defending him on what was technically their night off. He felt warm inside even so. It was good to be with his brothers again.

Once the deer was out of sight, Sly deflated. “Ack, my throat,” he complained. “I don’t know how you do those high-pitches voices, Murray. I feel like I’ll be raspy by tomorrow!”

Murray chuckled. “It takes practice.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Bentley suggested. “I think we’ve caused enough of a scene.” He glanced at the table. “Nothing needs to be paid for, right?”

“Nope. I didn’t order yet.” Murray replied.

“Let’s get Chinese,” Sly said, stretching as Murray got to his feet. “I saw a great place on the way over.” He locked his arm through Murray’s, hiding a yawn in the hippo’s bicep.

“Do you mean you saw it or smelled it?” Bentley asked, guiding Murray to the handles of his chair. That was about equivalent to hand-holding, Murray knew.

Sly laughed. “Both!”

“Chinese sounds fantastic,” Murray said, sighing in the fresh air. He was still upset about being stood up. He was glad for his friends, but…

“That guy was a complete jerk,” Bentley grumbled, going back to controlling his own chair as Sly let go of Murray. It wasn’t a sudden “no homo” sort of thing, though. It was more of a natural progression as they walked together on the sidewalk, with Bentley’s chair a half-step ahead. “What didjya day his name was?”

“Pierce Monogram,” Murray said. “Trust fund baby, I think. Works in the family business selling shoes.”

“That’s ironic,” Sly mused, swinging his arms up to rest behind his head as he walked. “He wasn’t wearing shoes.”

Murray laughed. “No, I guess he wasn’t. That’s a dealbreaker for me.”

“Murray, you don’t wear shoes either,” Bentley said.

“Exactly!” Murray went on, still laughing. “Somebody has to wear the shoes in the relationship!”

All three of them laughed, and couldn’t stop laughing until they reached the Chinese.

“Ah, the smell of sweet, sweet MSG,” Sly licked his lips as he set out the various cartons and bowls.

“This isn’t going to give me indigestion, is it?” Bentley asked skeptically, wrinkling his nose.

“No, no, I got your egg rolls and plain rice here,” Sly set out the food separately for Bentley before using a set of chopsticks to serve himself liberal amount of pork fried rice and vegetable lo mein, claiming one of the containers of scallion pancakes for himself.

“Man,” Murray grinned, slurping his hot and sour soup, “I forgot how good Chinese food actually is.”

“Right?!” Sly beamed. “Glad I thought of it. I haven’t had a good Chinese in months!”

“It’s delicious, I agree. Pass the wonton soup, Murray?” Bentley asked.

“What’re we watchin?” Sly asked between shoveling noodles into his mouth.

Murray blushed. “Are you guys gonna kill me if I say I wanna watch “Pitch Perfect” again?”

Sly swallowed noisily. “Nah, I like that one all right. It’s funny.”

“I’ve no objection,” Bentley said, taking off his glasses momentarily to clean them of the fog from his soup. “It’s date night, after all. You always pick the films for date night.”

“You guys still wanna call it date night?” Murray asked.

The gang had always jokingly held “date nights” for self care, movies, and video games. But that had been before Murray was officially out of the closet. His friends were straight. He thought they hadn’t had a date night in a while because his friends didn’t want to do that sort of this with him now that he was out as gay.

Sly leaned forward. “You okay, big guy?”

Murray sniffled. “I...I dunno, I thought you guys...didn’t wanna do this with me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Bentley asked.

“I’m gay,” Murray confessed. “I like guys.”

“So?” Sly twitched his tail in confusion. “You’re still my brother. My friend.” He waved his tail in Murray’s face, making the hippo sneeze. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear,” the raccoon snuggled up properly against Murray’s side, chittering quietly, “I love you, pal.”

“So do I,” Bentley affirmed. “And...not to be too blunt about it, but...it was pretty obvious to me that you weren’t straight. But,” he cleared his throat, smiling. “That never mattered to me. You’re still my brother. And I still love you.”

Murray rubbed the tears out of his eyes. “Thanks, guys.”

“Sure thing, Murray,” Sly replied, butting his head against Murray’s shoulder before sitting up to properly shovel more food down his throat.

“I’ll get the DVD,” Bentley abandoned his food momentarily and rolled his chair over to set up the TV. Once he was done, he took his food and rolled closer to the couch, so Murray could enjoy his comfort, too.

Murray smiled warmly, happily chowing down on Chinese food and shouting all the words to the songs at the top of his lungs.

That was the best part about being home, Murray decided as he laughed at Sly nearly choking on a wonton and Bentley snorting soup out his nose. Being with the people who loved you unconditionally.

#personal #sly cooper #sly cooper fanfic #it’ll be on ao3 soon i’m just lazy #this was such a cute and wholesome suggestion i love it #murray #bentley #blind date

19 notes · View notes

deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a college roommate deancas AU :)

Chapter 9 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

CW: alcoholism, smoking

note: this chapter is again wayyy too long for me to go through and italicize everything the way it should be, soooo AO3 is the place to go if you want the best experience:))

Doing the Right Thing

Present

It was still pitch-dark outside when Dean woke up. He checked the time. 5:22 a.m. He groaned. A product, he guessed, of getting nearly fourteen hours of sleep the day before. He almost tried to go back to bed, but it was useless. He was awake. Gingerly, he applied some pressure to his stitches. Pain bloomed beneath his fingers, but it remained localized. That was encouraging. Dean sat up slowly. He felt the blood rush from his head, and the room spun a little more than usual, but the spikes of pain of the days before were gone. Maybe he’d be fully healed by Monday, and he’d be able to get Cas back on the road sooner than he’d thought.

Dean pulled on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and made his way to the kitchen, doing his best to not disturb Sam, who was still passed out in the living room. He grabbed his keys off the counter and stuffed his feet into an old pair of sneakers before quietly exiting the apartment.

He could have brewed a pot of coffee, but he needed some fresh air. The argument with Sam was still echoing in his mind. Dean pulled his hood up against the bitter Kansas wind and made in the direction of the closest 7-Eleven.

The roads were Saturday-morning quiet. Dean relished the silence and the sting of the cold air on his face. He usually tried to wait until after breakfast, but he took out his lighter and lit a cigarette, anyway. The burn in his throat was a welcome familiarity. Dean sighed against the nicotine buzz. It had been a few days.

He remembered the look on Cas’s face the day before, when he’d mentioned a cigarette. He’d gone cold turkey sometime around the Christmas before his dad died. Cas acted like it was the most impressive thing anyone had ever done. But, then… Well. Then he’d gone from near-alcoholic to stone-cold sober. He wasn’t proud of it, but he needed something to take the edge off those first few months. The habit was harder to kick the second time around.

Dean reached the 7-Eleven and discarded the cigarette in the ashtray on top of the trashcan. He made a beeline for the coffee machine. Dean grabbed the largest cup he saw, filled it to the brim with steaming coffee. He had just taken the glorious first sip when —

“Dean!”

Dean turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice. He grinned wide when he saw the owner was Sheriff Jody Mills.

“Hey, Jody,” he said, setting the cup down. She pulled him into a tight hug. In the past three years, Jody had become family.

“How ya doin’, kiddo?” She asked when they parted. Dean shrugged. “Bobby told me about your head.”

“Old man can’t keep his mouth shut,” Dean grumbled, garnering a laugh from Jody. “I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Stitches say otherwise.”

He waved a hand at her. “Nah. How are you, Jody?”

Jody sighed. “Same old. Bunch of the force is off for Christmas already. I pulled the short straw, had to work the graveyard shift last night. ”

“Anything interesting happen?”

Jody gave him a look. “No, nothing ‘interesting.’ Although we did have a mugging.”

Dean took another sip of coffee. “Where?”

“Down at that bar on 14th, sometime around midnight. A couple of college kids jumped this poor guy on his way to an Uber. He got a little banged up, and they took his wallet, gave him a good scare.” Jody sighed. “I felt bad for him. Said he was from outta town, just passing through on his way to Kansas City.” She snorted. “Makes Lawrence look real nice, huh? You’re here for a couple of days, and you get mugged.”

Dean froze. “Kansas City? Did you happen to get his name?”

“We did, but… God, I can’t remember it.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“No reason. Did he, uh, did he mention where he was staying?”

“Uh… I think he said the Days Inn.”

“The one right by KU?” Dean asked.

Jody shrugged. “Probably. I didn’t ask for specifics. Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean grabbed a lid and put it on his cup. “It’s nothing, Jody, I promise. I’ll see you around.”

As he made his way to the cashier, Jody let out an exasperated sigh. “Good to see you too!” She called after him.

He paid for his coffee and all but ran back to his apartment. Upon reaching the parking lot, he hurriedly unlocked the Impala and slid into the driver’s seat. Dean’s movements slowed before he could turn the key in the ignition.

What was he doing, exactly? What was his plan here? He had Cas’s phone number. He could easily call him, ask if he was okay, if that was him who got mugged. Would Cas even tell him the truth if it really was him Jody was talking about? The man didn’t owe Dean a damn thing, he’d made that perfectly clear.

And yet… Dean had to know. Despite everything, all of his anger and grudge-holding, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until he knew. With a pang, Dean remembered waking up in the hospital, Cas sitting next to him. He quite literally hasn’t left your side. The least Dean could do now was check up on him.

“Days Inn,” he muttered to himself as he started the car, trying to remember how to get to KU from the apartment. He almost stopped and turned around more than once. Seeing Cas on a normal day was bad enough, but seeing him bruised and bloodied… Dean tried not to think about it. Just making sure he’s okay, he told himself. He’d do the same for me.

Finally, he reached the motel. It was still relatively dark out. He parked the Impala at the back of the building, triple-checking that he had locked it, before making his way to the front desk.

“Mornin’,” he greeted the woman behind the counter. “I was wonderin’...” He paused mid-sentence as something caught his eye from the breakfast seating area. A man, nursing a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper, his dark hair sticking up in twelve different directions.

“Nevermind,” Dean said. He made his way to the table.

“You look like shit,” Dean said by way of a greeting. Cas jumped, nearly toppling his cup. He took a deep breath as Dean sat across from him, folding his arms across his chest.

He really did look awful. Under the guise of concern, he let himself look at Cas, really look at him. Dean took stock of the black eye and complementary swollen cheek, but his eyes lingered on the full lips and stubbled jaw. Still the same. Maddeningly beautiful.

“Dean,” Cas grumbled, and he sounded like shit, too. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area,” he said, aiming for blasé. Cas sipped his coffee. Dean leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, were you gonna tell me you got mugged?”

Cas cleared his throat. “What?”

“Saw the sheriff this morning. She told me some poor travelin’ dude got mugged outside of a bar.” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sound familiar?”

Cas sighed and folded his hands together. “Yes,” he said. “It was rather unfortunate.”

Dean studied him for a moment, flipping between anger and concern. Cas had texted him after the incident, hadn’t bothered to mention it. “You okay?” He said finally, deciding it was too early to get mad.

“Yes,” Cas said again. “I suppose they were just sober enough to land a punch.” He gestured at his eye. “I believe they just wanted cash, and I’m sure the ID of a twenty-two year old was desirable as well.” He sighed once more. “I’m just glad they didn’t take my phone.”

“What were you doin’ down there, anyway?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a look. “I think, based on my current state, that you can infer the nature of my outing.”

And, yeah, he looked horribly hungover, in addition to everything else. Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure. I mean, why were you getting sloshed at, like, the worst college bar in town?”

Cas laughed, but it was mirthless. “It is not of import.”

“Wh —” Dean interrupted himself with a frustrated sigh. “Okay.” He was tapping the table with two fingers. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have come. “Why are you staying here, anyway?” He asked, just to have something to say. “This place sucks.”

“Because you told me that I would be in Lawrence for upwards of two weeks,” Cas explained. “The rooms are inexpensive.”

Dean just stared at him. Of course Cas would find the cheapest shithole in town. A wave of guilt rushed over him. What was wrong with him? He and Bobby were the ones who wouldn’t be able to fix Cas’s car until after Christmas. Cas was stuck here because of them, because of him, and Dean couldn’t just give up his couch for a week? If he had just done that in the first place, Cas probably wouldn’t have a black eye.

Logically, Dean knew this train of thought made next to no sense. The rational side of him knew he was placing undue blame on himself for situations beyond his control.

That knowledge didn’t make the pain in his chest subside.

Dean couldn’t just leave Cas in that hotel lobby, hungover and nursing a black eye, no driver’s license, no money. He considered his options for a moment. He could send him to Bobby’s. But, no, that would invite raised eyebrows and lots of questions. Bobby was out. He could pay for Cas to stay at a better hotel, one closer to the shop. A quick estimation told him that was a thousand-dollar choice. Not happening. Dean groaned internally. He was the world’s biggest idiot.

“Come on, you’re checking out,” he said gruffly, standing up.

“What?” Cas stayed resolutely in his seat. “Dean, I’m not going to waste money on accommodations, this is fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great, I can tell,” Dean said, the words dripping with sarcasm. “You’re staying at my place.”

Cas looked at Dean like he’d just grown a third head. “You’ve been consistently upset at me since the moment you saw me. I don’t think cohabiting is wise.”

Dean cringed. “Choice of words, Cas,” he mumbled. He yanked Cas up by the arm. “Look, man, I owe you one, anyway. Just…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Cas shifted out of Dean’s grasp.

“You owe me for… What, exactly?” Cas said, eyes searching Dean’s face. Dean tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt.

“You drove me to the hospital,” he muttered.

“Bobby said he’d fix my car for free if I did.”

Of course he did. “Yeah, well, you stayed until I woke up.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Because I felt responsible for your concussion.”

Dean tilted his head back, begging the ceiling for strength. “Look, man, I’m just trying to be nice.”

“What a pleasant change in demeanor,” Cas deadpanned.

“You’re being a fucking idiot,” Dean said, exasperated.

“Charming,” Cas said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re selling your invitation beautifully.”

Dean glared at him. “Are you coming, or not?”

“All right,” Cas relented, but sounded reluctant.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Cas retrieved his bags and checked out at the front desk as Dean waited impatiently at the Impala. The sun had just begun to rise when the two pulled out of the parking lot.

“I’d make Sam take the couch,” Dean said as he drove, “But he’s a giant. Sorry. It’s probably still better than that crappy motel.”

Cas kept his gaze out the passenger window. “Your brother is here?”

It occurred to Dean that the last time Sam and Cas had talked, it was under very different circumstances. He’d almost forgotten Cas’s Christmas in Lawrence. Dean berated himself silently once more. Hadn’t he just gotten into an argument with Sam about the man sitting in his passenger seat? What was he supposed to tell him? Hey, remember when I told you to never speak of my old roommate again? He’s staying with us.

If Dean was honest, he couldn’t even justify the situation to himself. He’d spent months broken over Cas, then years pissed at him. Maybe he was some kind of masochist.

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah. He’s home from school for the holidays.”

Cas murmured in understanding. “He’s attending college?”

“University of Texas,” Dean said, and he couldn’t keep the pride from his voice.

“I look forward to seeing him again,” Cas said. “It’s been a long time.”

Maybe it was the implication behind the words, or the way Cas said them. Dean felt a pang in his chest for the friendship they’d once had. In the early morning light, with Cas in his passenger seat, he could almost believe they’d never lost it. He could almost convince himself that Cas had just moved away. That they saw each other sometimes, grabbed a cup of coffee, reminisced about the old days. No bad blood, just fond memories. The kind of friendship that sits in the back of the sock drawer, a pleasant surprise when it’s found.

Almost.

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. That wasn’t reality, he reminded himself. They had lost that friendship, and there was plenty of bad blood. Dean had made his choices. Cas had made his. Pretending otherwise didn’t do him any good.

The rest of the drive was quiet. Dean turned on the stereo, and “Whole Lotta Love” played softly through the speakers. The drive that had earlier felt like an eternity now seemed all too fast. Dean was not looking forward to explaining to Sam why Castiel Novak was their new roommate for the foreseeable future.

Dean pulled into the parking lot. He rubbed his face with one hand, tried to remind himself that this was the nice thing to do, that this was what he would do for anyone else, and so he should do it for Cas. Even if Cas made him feel like he’d put his life back together with dollar store glitter glue, and it was about to fall apart at one misplaced breath.

Seeming to sense Dean’s discomfort, Cas said, “Dean, you don’t have to do this.” His voice was measured, but it had a near-pleading tone. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Dude, no, you’re not,” Dean replied, and he felt like screaming. Couldn’t he do one nice thing, just one?

Cas rolled his eyes, a full-body movement. “Like I said, I know you’re angry at me. I also know you don’t wish to talk about it,” he added, seeing Dean open his mouth to say just that. “And I don’t wish to cause you strife every time you decide to use your kitchen or watch television.” Cas sighed, a heavy thing. “I appreciate the gesture.”

Dean closed his eyes. Counted to five. Breathed out. “Cas,” he said. He was doing his best to keep his tone neutral, but Cas was being stubborn, and he didn’t have the energy for that. “Just… Let me do this. Let’s just go inside. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll kick your ass back to the friggin’ Days Inn.”

Cas eyed him for a moment, as if attempting to discover the meaning behind his sudden kindness. Dean told himself he was doing what he would do for anyone. The gesture was devoid of feeling. He was going through the motions of being a good person.

Finally, Cas relented. He opened the door and moved to the trunk to retrieve his luggage. Dean rolled his shoulders and followed suit.

“You mind hanging out here for a sec?” Dean asked. “I gotta talk to Sam.”

Cas just nodded, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Dean locked his car and made the ascent to his door.

Dean got to work on a pot of coffee. He almost hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake from the noise, that he could put off the coming conversation as long as possible. But, of course, Sam woke up almost the moment the machine finished brewing.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean said as Sam sat up. “Coffee?”

Sam nodded groggily. “Morning.”

Dean brought him a cup and sat on the couch across from the air mattress. “How’d you sleep?” He asked, stalling.

Sam gave him a curious look. “Uh… Fine, actually. This thing isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought.”

“Good,” Dean said. He was bouncing his leg, trying to figure out what to say. “Um.” Great start.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “What?” He said.

“Nothing,” Dean said. Then, “I just wanted to, uh. Well. Look, sorry for being a dick last night.”

Sam’s eyes widened at him over his mug. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“What?” Dean replied. “I’m fine, dude, why?”

“Well, it’s just…” Sam trailed off and took another sip. “We don’t really do the whole ‘apologizing after arguments’ thing.” He gave Dean a look. “No chick flick moments and all that.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Yeah, no, I know, I just. I felt kinda bad. You didn’t mean to, uh… Anyway.”

Sam gave a little laugh. “Okay,” he said slowly.

“So.” Dean cleared his throat. He should just say it. “Cas is staying here for a while.”

Sam choked on his coffee. After a fit of coughing, he looked at Dean with wide eyes. “What? When — did you — What?”

“He got mugged last night at some bar,” Dean said, looking resolutely at the ground. “So I, uh, I picked him up. I owe him one, you know, for drivin’ me to the hospital and all that.”

Sam eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “I thought you were pissed at him.” He sat up a little straighter. “Actually, if I remember this right, you’ve been so pissed at him for the last three years that I haven’t been allowed to talk about him.”

Dean clasped his hands together and hung his head. “Look, man, I felt bad, okay? I was being dumb not offering in the first place. The dude’s gonna be here at least until the end of next week.” He finally looked up at Sam and gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalance and missing it by about three miles. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Sam looked unconvinced. “Where’s he gonna sleep?”

“Couch.”

“Right. And you’re gonna be totally cool with him around?” Dean didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “What the hell are you doing, man?”

“I told you,” Dean grumbled. “The right thing.”

Sam looked at him with so much pity that it made Dean squirm. “You want me to send him back?” He almost hoped Sam would say yes, give him an excuse to be the total asshole he was.

“No!” Sam said quickly. “No, I’m excited to see Cas. Damn, it’s been a while. I just… Confused. Last night —”

“He’s outside,” Dean interrupted quietly.

“What?” Sam exclaimed. He jumped up from the air mattress. “Cas is here? Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Dean grumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes and made for the front door. He threw it open, and Dean followed behind him, rolling his eyes at the dramatics.

They descended the single flight of stairs. Cas was leaning against the Impala, his small suitcase leaning at his right. Dean felt a smile tug at his lips. The guy hadn’t accumulated much since he’d last seen him, apparently. Seeing Cas smile at Sam, standing next to the Impala, Dean felt that same feeling. Like nothing had changed. He pushed it away.

“Cas!” Sam said, all happiness. “Dude, it’s so great to see you.” He wrapped the other man into a hug. Cas hugged him back with a small smile, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Dean stood a ways back, his arms crossed.

“Sam,” he said once they’d parted. “It’s very good to see you, too.”

“How have you been? Where have you been? You graduated already?”

Dean spoke up at that. “Sam, enough questions, the dude just got the shit beat out of him, like, eight hours ago.”

Cas gave him a hard look. “I didn’t get the ‘shit beat out of me,’” he grumbled, punctuating the phrase with air quotes. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Damn, Cas,” Sam said, squinting at the black eye, as if he’d just realized it. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said.

Sam let out a huff of laughter. Dean raised an eyebrow and shoved him in the back. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam said, regaining his composure. “It’s just… Maybe you two are bad luck together.” He gestured at Dean, “First, you get concussed—” and then at Cas, “—and you get a black eye.” He shrugged. “Kinda funny.”

Dean glared at him. Cas gave him a smile that said in bright neon letters, “this is me, humoring you.”

“Whatever,” Dean said. “Are y’all hungry? I’m gonna make breakfast.”

Sam grinned. “Yes!” He turned to Cas. “Dean makes the best breakfast.”

Cas gave him a small, sad smile. “I know.”

Sam’s grin faltered at that, and Dean was already regretting this whole altruistic move. He just turned and made his way back up to the apartment, Sam and Cas close behind him.

Dean tried to focus on the sizzling of the frying pan instead of Sam’s animated conversation with Cas about how he’d gotten into UT with a scholarship and was studying political science on the pre-law track. His ears betrayed him when Sam asked Cas about his last three years.

“Well, I… I finished that first year at Wichita State, off-campus. I transferred to the University of Oklahoma for the last five semesters. They have an excellent accounting program,” he added, as if that explained everything. Dean could feel his eyes on him, could practically taste the trepidation in his voice. “I was fortunate enough to intern at a firm in Kansas City last summer.”

“That’s where you’re headed?” Sam asked. Cas nodded.

“Hold on,” Sam said. “You said you finished your first year at WSU? So you were in Wichita until —”

Dean coughed loudly. He wished he could have chosen something louder for breakfast, like a smoothie. He plated up the eggs and bacon and offered a dish to Sam and Cas.

“Thank you,” Cas said, all-too earnestly. Sam just rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“‘S no problem,” Dean said. He grabbed his own plate and shoveled the food into his mouth, despite his appetite having abruptly left him at the revelation that Cas had been in Wichita far longer than he’d thought.

The three of them ate in relative silence, broken occasionally by Sam’s attempts at small-talk. Dean got up and poured the rest of the coffee into a mug, silently setting it down before Cas. When he was met with raised eyebrows, Dean only shrugged.

Dean saw more of Lawrence that weekend than he had in the past three years. He tagged along with Sam to the outlet mall, then dragged his brother to his favorite burger place and the local pie shop downtown. He left the apartment at eight on Sunday to take the Impala to the do-it-yourself car wash. He spent four hours detailing the car, in and out, top to bottom. Once that was finished, he voluntarily went into the shop to finish billing paperwork that Bobby hadn’t gotten to. When the stacks of paper were no more, he even drove all the way across town to one of his old bartending spots to catch up with his former coworkers.

It turned out, living with Cas was easy if Dean never saw him.

Dean knew his avoidance scheme was obvious, but what else could he do? Being in the same room as Cas for more than ten minutes made his head pound, and he was ninety percent sure it wasn’t his concussion. So Sam could raise his eyebrows all he wanted, Dean would still find all manner of errands to run and things to do.

On Monday, he went back to see Dr. Barnes. She checked him over and determined that his stitches could be removed.

“Thank god,” Dean muttered as she updated his chart. “Does that mean I can go back to work?”

She gave him a look. “How are your concussion symptoms?”

“Nonexistent,” he said, and that was mostly true. He still tried to avoid sudden changes of elevation, and he wasn’t about to start blaring music again, but no more pulsing headaches or light sensitivity.

“I suppose you can get back in the shop, as long as you’re careful,” Dr. Barnes replied. “You don’t work on Christmas, do you?”

Dean shook his head.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t hurt to take the whole week off and go back after the holiday,” she pointed out.

“But I could go back. If my boss needed me,” Dean said.

Dr. Barnes smiled. “Yes.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he could get Cas’s car done earlier than he thought.

After his stitches were out, he thanked Dr. Barnes and made his way back to the Impala. He was almost smiling as he made his way to the shop. No stitches, no concussion, and soon, no Cas living in his apartment. His life was going back to normal.

Dean walked into the office, and Bobby looked at him with murder on his face.

“You idjit, you’re not —”

Dean waved a paper at him. “Doctor said I’m cleared for work,” he said smugly.

Bobby narrowed his eyes and gestured for the paper. Dean handed it to him, and he scrutinized its contents intently. With a grunt, he returned the paper to Dean and crossed his arms.

“How much you pay her to say that?” He said.

Dean smirked. “C’mon Bobby, I wouldn’t do that.” Bobby scoffed in disbelief. “You looked at Cas’s car yet?”

Bobby sighed. “Not yet. Bunch of oil changes with holiday travel and shit. I’ll pull it into a bay if you wanna have a look.”

Dean nodded eagerly.

Once Cas’s ninety-something Honda Civic was parked, Dean lifted the hood and started diagnostics. Apparently, the car had just stopped in the middle of the road. There was gas in the tank, Dean noted with relief. Some people ran down to empty and then got confused why the engine died. He checked the alternator, no problems there. He had Bobby turn the ignition while he listened to the fuel pump, but it was working, too.

He sighed as he reached for a compression gauge. If Bobby had been right, and the valves really were bent, he was going to have a fit.

Sure enough, half of the valves wouldn’t hold pressure. Dean groaned. He would have to replace the timing belt, too, then. Bobby was going to regret that promise of a free fix. More than that, though, Dean was regretting his promise of free lodging. Fixing Cas’s car, even if it was the only one he had to deal with, would take at least three full days. But he and Bobby really were packed with maintenance appointments, and they always had dinky little repair jobs around the holidays. Cas was stuck in Lawrence for at least another week. He’d be there for Christmas.

Dean relayed the news to Bobby, who just shrugged and grumbled about how Dean’s concussion was about to cost him three grand between labor and parts. Dean spent the rest of the day changing oil and air filters, performing alignments, rotating tires. It felt good to be back in the shop.

He called Sam on his way home, and his brother insisted that Dean make burgers for dinner. Dean had forgotten he’d be cooking for three until Sam started talking about his second day spent with Cas. Apparently, in Dean’s absence, they had become great buddies, talking about all kinds of nerd stuff Dean didn’t bother to commit to memory.

“Hold on,” Sam said while Dean was in Wal-Mart getting dinner materials. Dean heard a door open and close on the other line before Sam began speaking again.

“Are you gonna get his car done before Christmas?” He asked.

“Definitely not,” Dean said, throwing two pounds of ground beef into his basket. “The valves are bent, which means the timing belt’s fucked too. He’s stuck here until Monday, best case scenario.”

“You should invite him to Bobby’s, then.”

Dean almost dropped the buns in his hand. “I should what?”

“Come on, Dean, the poor guy’s gonna have to spend Christmas alone, otherwise,” Sam whined.

“Dude, not happening.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“Sam, you have no idea what you’re asking,” Dean argued as he made his way to the self-checkout. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to avoid Cas, not induct him into the family.”

Sam huffed on the other line. “You’re right, I don’t know what I’m asking, but that’s only because you refuse to tell me what happened.”

“It’s really not that complicated,” Dean grumbled. “He didn’t want a damn thing to do with me. Ask him.”

“I already did, and he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“What?” Dean was doing his best to keep from shouting in the middle of the busy store. “Why would you do that?”

“You just told me I should!” Sam retorted.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have done it without asking me first!” Dean hissed. He yanked his credit card from the machine and waited impatiently for his receipt to print.

Sam groaned. “Look, that’s not the point —” “What’s the point, Sam?” Dean demanded. The frigid December air was welcome against his face, hot with frustration. “I don’t need you playing Dr. Phil for me and Cas, okay? I can handle my own bullshit.”

“Whatever,” Sam muttered.

Dean took a deep breath as he got into the car. “I’m leaving Wal-Mart now. I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sam was uncharacteristically silent as Dean prepared the meal. He had some documentary playing on the TV. Cas was sitting in the armchair, reading a book. When the burgers were done, Dean delivered a plate to each of them.

“I’m gonna FaceTime Eileen,” Sam announced, getting up to leave the room.

“While you’re eating?” Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Sam rolled his eyes and closed Dean’s bedroom door behind him. Dean shook his head.

An awkward silence settled over the living room as Dean and Cas ate their burgers. It was the first time they’d been alone since Dean had picked him up from the motel.

“This is very good,” Cas said at the same moment Dean said, “I looked at your car.”

Dean blushed at the compliment. “Sorry,” he said. “Uh, glad you like it.”

Cas gave a single nod. “You looked at my car?”

“Yeah, uh, bad news,” Dean said, taking a sip of his beer. “Half of your valves are fucked.” At Cas’s vacant stare, he elaborated, “My guess is your timing belt is banged up. It’s causing the pistons to fire out of time, so they hit the valves wrong. The cylinders can’t keep pressure if the valves don’t work. That’s why your engine died.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What should I do to keep that from happening?”

“Not much you can do ‘sides replace the belt every hundred thousand miles or so. They just kind of break.”

“How long will the repair take?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the bad news. You’re stuck here for at least another week. Sorry, man, it’s just… Christmas, and all that.”

Cas gave a weak smile. “No apology necessary.” He took a sip of water. “How’s your head?”

“All better,” Dean said. “Doc took the stitches out today.”

“I noticed.”

“Said it would still probably scar, but at least I’m back in the shop.”

Cas gave a polite nod but didn’t say anything more. Dean took both their plates to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. Dean got to work cleaning up the burger mess.

“What did you end up majoring in?” Cas asked, and the abrupt sound of his voice made Dean jump. He scrubbed the frying pan intently.

“Never did figure that out,” Dean replied gruffly.

“What?” Cas asked, confused. “Didn’t you finish at WSU?”

Dean put the pan on his drying rack and paused, gripping the edges of the counter, his head hanging low to his chest. He took a breath. Here it was, the conversation he hated having. The one that tattooed “I’m a massive failure” in block letters on his forehead.

“Nope,” he said. He turned around, a scowl on his face. The last person he needed to take shit from was Cas. “Do you think I’d be living in this dump if I had a degree?”

Cas’s brows knit together. “Your apartment is quite nice,” he said. “Why didn’t you finish?”

Dean shrugged, playing at nonchalance. “It was too hard,” he said, the same answer he gave everyone, because it was the most believable. It was the easiest. He could handle everyone thinking he was a grade-A idiot with a GED and a mechanic certification. He couldn’t handle the pity that came with admitting that he simply couldn’t put himself back together after his father died.

Cas looked doubtful. “Right,” he said after a moment.

Dean felt trapped under Cas’s scrutinous gaze. He cleared his throat, selecting the least exhausting of his many questions to push attention back to Cas.

“I’m still surprised you’re not some big-shot writer already,” he said, turning back to the kitchen. He set about wiping down the stovetop. “It always seemed like you were really into that stuff.” As a memory tickled the edges of his brain, he added, “Good at it, too.”

“Yes, well,” Cas said, letting out a slow breath. “By the spring of my freshman year, it became evident that my priorities were misplaced. I spent too much time writing, not enough time working on my accounting classes.” Cas paused as Dean replaced his cleaning supplies to their places under the sink. When he stood back up, Cas was giving him a meaningful look.

“And sometimes,” he said, deliberately, “Sometimes, the things we love can be bad for us, in the end. Despite how happy they might make us in the moment.”

Dean snorted. He knew Cas was trying to make some bigger point, but he wasn’t willing to follow him there. “I dunno,” he said. “Pretty much everything I love is always awesome.”

“Really,” Cas deadpanned.

“Yup,” Dean said with a nod. “Sam, Bobby, the rest of my family… Hell, they’re always good, always there when I need ‘em. I’ve always loved working on cars, and now that pays the bills. Pie. Obviously.” He held up his hands.

“Well, I’m elated that everything you’re passionate about has worked out for you,” Cas said, his tone caustic. “I suppose not everyone is so lucky.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Tension was rolling off Cas in waves. This was good, Dean could work with this. Cas looking at him with some unknown emotion, trying to talk about what happened… The thought alone gave him a headache. But Cas looking at him like he was doing his best not to murder him, like he was insufferable and ridiculous, that, he could face.

A week. He could do this for one week.

But Cas was rearranging his expression into something gentler, breathing deeply through the anger Dean was provoking.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” Cas said with a sigh. “And I know the last thing you want to do is talk about it,” he added, as Dean opened his mouth to say just that. Dean crossed his arms, his jaw set.

“I won’t bring it up again, I promise,” Cas said in earnest. “But you have to know, I only… It wasn’t intentional.” A pause. “I only left because you told me to go.”

Dean felt something cave in his chest. Everything went slack. “What?” He hissed.

Cas cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “Do you not remember?”

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice a poor attempt at measured, “What are you talking about?”

Cas just stared at him, confused and piteous. Before he could speak, Sam emerged from Dean’s room with his dirty plate.

“Thanks for dinner, Dean,” Sam said. He seemed to have calmed down from their earlier argument. “You wanna watch A New Hope tonight?”

Dean was still staring at Cas, who was studying the ground with great intensity. He barely heard Sam’s question.

“Yo,” Sam said, waving a hand in front of his face. “You hear me?”

Dean blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m beat, honestly,” he said. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay.”

Sam smirked at him. “You’re old, dude.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Night, Sammy,”

“Sleep well, old man,” Sam joked.

Dean turned and made his way to his room. He could vaguely hear Sam asking Cas what he wanted to watch, but his brain was swimming.

Thinking that maybe, probably, everything had been his fault, that was one thing. To hear it, straight from the source, from Cas…

I only left because you told me to go.

Dean closed his bedroom door behind him and grabbed the bottle of scotch from inside his desk. As he poured a generous glass, he sifted through his final memories with Cas, trying to find something that would make those words make sense. He might have spent the better part of that spring in a haze, but he was sure he would have remembered telling Cas to leave. All he could remember was waking up on the floor of their room one morning, his clothes reeking of whiskey, one half of the room empty.

That was a bad day. He’d completely blacked out the night before, and still felt pretty drunk when he’d woken up. He remembered calling Cas over and over again. Eventually, the calls stopped ringing out and started going straight to voicemail. Dean hadn’t left the room that day, despite having a full day of classes. He didn’t shower. He simply remained in the same spot, feeling more and more hopeless as the minutes went by. In his desperation, he’d even called Meg. She told him that Cas had left and that he should delete both their numbers. She called him a fuck-up. She spoke with so much hatred that Dean couldn’t even get a word in before she hung up on him.

Losing his dad, that was one thing. Losing Cas, after everything…

Dean finished his drink and poured another. Downed it in one sip.

If he hadn’t already, Dean had hit rock bottom when Cas left. Long nights bled into longer days. When he eventually realized that, without Cas, no one noticed when he skipped class, or didn’t come home, or didn’t eat, he just stopped. He didn’t open a textbook for the rest of the semester, he crashed on any and every stranger’s couch, he lived off of beer and liquor and the occasional dining hall burger.

Dean stripped off his clothes, the alcoholic haze just beginning to slow his movements. He turned on the shower and got in, the scalding water providing a welcome touch of pain. He stood there, the scotch progressively settling into its neural blockade, but failing to quiet the echoing of Cas’s words.

At first, he had blamed himself. Of course Cas left, because who would have stayed? Dean was a fuck-up, just like Meg said. John had known it, and he’d never let Dean forget it, as if Dean needed any help remembering. He couldn’t protect Sam from John, not all the time. He couldn’t even make it past sixteen without adopting a crippling nicotine addiction. Worst of all, he couldn’t suffer through four more years at home. If he could have done that, if he could have just stayed a little longer, John would have still been alive. Sam wouldn’t have been an orphan at fourteen.

At some point, though, it wasn’t enough to be angry at himself. Because, sure, he was a disaster of a human being, but Cas had known that. He’d seen all of the bullshit, and Cas still… They were still friends. Or, he’d at least let Dean think they were. But how could they have been? The second Dean needed him, really needed him, Cas had bailed.

The shower was spinning. Dean turned off the head and stumbled out, having no idea how long he’d been standing there. He towelled off and haphazardly threw on a pair of underwear before collapsing into his bed.

He laid there for a moment, eyes closed, sinking into the false gyration of the room. Sam and Cas were talking in low voices in the living room, but Dean couldn’t pick out a single word. He opened the drawer in his bedside table, fumbling around for his headphones. His fingers brushed a stack of paper. Dean frowned and pulled it out.

It was nearly fifty pages, front and back. The paper was crumpled all over; stains dappled the text. The first page was blank, save a note written in neat, blue script.

I couldn’t have written this without you. Thank you. Merry Christmas.

-CN

Dean flipped through the pages for what could have been the millionth time. He wasn’t reading the lines of text, only catching a few words here and there.

Dean was staring at the cover page again when a knock sounded at his door.

“Yeah,” Dean said gruffly, setting the papers on his nightstand.

He’d been expecting Sam, but it was Cas who poked his head around the door. “Dean?” He said, “I’m going to use your shower, if that’s all right.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Sure,” he said. “No problem.”

Cas made his way to the bathroom, but stopped dead at the bedside table. He was staring at the papers.

“You kept this?” He said in a strangled voice.

Dean didn’t even look at him, just muttered something incomprehensible in affirmation.

“Dean…” His voice was damn-near pleading. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind back to languid blankness.

And maybe it was the scotch, maybe it was the feeling of Cas staring at him, maybe it was the pages filled with Cas’s words that Dean had read so many times he’d almost memorized it. Whatever it was, his head was pounding, and the effort of holding his grudge suddenly seemed worthless. He could avoid and irritate Cas for a week. Or…

“Can we just forget about it?” Dean said.

“What?” Cas replied.

“All of it. Everything,” Dean said, and he knew he wasn’t making sense, but he didn’t care. “Just… Water under the bridge. Start over.”

Cas was quiet for a moment before muttering a tentative, “Sure.”

“Good,” Dean said, and he was suddenly very tired. “G’night.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas said, somewhere between sadness and hope.

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

taglist! lemme know if u wanna be added :]

@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

#destiel #supernatural #deancas #destiel fic

5 notes · View notes

inkribbon796 · 4 years

Text

Crackdown Ch. 4

Chapter 4: Where Loyalties Lie

Summary: The heroes get to sit down with Yan, Bim, and Illinois and find that Dark and Wilford probably weren’t the terrible parents they thought they were.

A/N: It’s done. I’m done. Hope you guys enjoy it, it was a beast to write.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

While the first half of their operation went almost uncannily easily. The second part wasn’t. Almost all the heroes had initially thought that living with a murderous demonic mobster and a murder happy madman would have counted as a horrible traumatic incident that they would have been happy to get away from.

They were wrong, apparently all three of them had glowing things to say about both parents.

Patton was in with Abe and Jackie, trying to get information out of Yan. King immediately cut them off from talking to Yan when she started crying and wanting to call Wil. She did get to call him but the Host reassured the heroes that they weren’t going to get anything out of her.

Bing was in talking to Bim, Oliver watching the building for security. “Come dude, you killed them, just admit it.”

“What part about I want my fucking lawyer don’t you understand?” Bim shouted back.

King was standing outside the room with his head in his hand. “Nice to see he hasn’t changed.”

“Was he like this when you were kids?” Silver asked.

“Yeah, he was always a bit of a spoiled brat,” King frowned. “Wil pretty much gave him anything he wanted, and for a while he was an only kid and was always kinda an attention whore.”

“Sounds like hell,” Silver commented. “Why’d Dark and Wil get five more kids if they could barely handle one?”

“Don’t know,” King shrugged. “Dark told us a story once about Bim being taken once and how we didn’t have to talk to other kids because statistically we had to like at least one of our siblings. Personally I think he was just a bit of a control freak.”

“Is that why you left?” Silver asked.

King sighed, “You know, Dark’s a piece of shit boss and I hated working for him, but he wasn’t actually a bad dad, never let me take the work home even if I wanted to.”

Silver just looked at him, “Did he get kids just to work in the Network?”

“No,” King corrected firmly. “For a long time we weren’t allowed to even ask about what he did. We knew he worked in his office from home or at the warehouses, and that was it. Hell, Dark didn’t even allow us to watch Wil’s show, you know, because he killed people on it.”

“Then how’d you wind up working for him?” Silver asked.

“It kinda just happened,” King answered. “Artie and Illinois started getting interested and I tagged along with Illy a lot, so when he started pestering Dark, I joined in and Dark suddenly found he had a vacancy as an assistant, not that that job existed before I asked him. He hated the idea of someone else with their hands on his work.”

“He treated you guys good, right?” Silver asked. “Never seemed like the type of guy to be a caring father.”

“He and Wil were miles and leagues better than the foster homes I’d been in before,” King answered, before looking away. “I’m getting some coffee.”

King walked over, as Bing was coming out of the room.

“Ok, so the little dude totally lawyered up and we’re at a standstill,” Bing said. “Dude’s obviously been coached on how ta talk when he’s arrested but I think we’ve enough ta go somewhere. He’s acting a bit off, I think he might be on somethin’ but we need more ta be able ta do a drug test, and e’en then it might come back a false positive because ‘a Wil.”

“You know how they’re doing with the third little boy scout?”

“Marv was goin’ on an’ on about brainwashin’ so who know how that’s going,” Bing threw his hands up and shrugged. “I’m gonna check on Ollie, see if Googs is givin’ him any trouble.”

Silver found Amy standing outside the second interrogation room, Yan had been in that room but after her failed questioning she’d been put in her cell and Illy was moved in instead.

“How’s it going?” Mark asked, watching an arguing match.

“Probably shouldn’t have let Marvin’s talk to him,” Amy sighed.

“We know he was doin’ magic on yeh?” Marvin argued.

“You get off your high horse!” Illinois shouted back.

“Where’s Eric?” Silver asked.

“With Ollie,” Amy frowned, “Eric not talking to anyone except for him and King, he sure isn’t talking to Abe or Marvin.”

“Yep, tapping in,” Silver decided, walking in. “Marv—”

“You all can shove it,” Illinois decided, continuing to escalate the situation. “I don’t care if Artie and Kay are working with you, I don’t care whatever teen rebellion phase they’re in, I don’t care if you call me crazy and lock me up in the same cell as Yancy. None of you cared when Kay and I were being bounced between places, no one cared about us except for Dark. I am living the life I dreamed about and thought I’d never get as a kid. I get to travel the world and go to all these amazing places.”

“Dark is a demon who manipulates people,” Marvin reminded.

“I’m not crazy and Dark is not forcing me into living in the Manor, it’s my home, and I am not lying and saying that the person who took me in and protected me was an abusive monster, because he wasn’t!”

Illinois angrily sat down, “You fuckers want anything else, you can talk to my lawyer.”

After that, Illinois seemed to calm down enough and they had to move him back to his cell, it was Wilford’s anti-magic cell. So because there was one cell, all three of the siblings were in there, Bim sitting on the cot, and Yan in the chair as Illinois walked around and studied the cell.

“This is so stupid, why are we even still here?” Bim’s faint aura was curled around him like a coat that was two sizes too big for him. Yan was poking at it inquisitively, making Bim swat at her hands. “Stop that.”

“It’s cool,” Yan smiled, not listening to him. “It’s like the Old Man’s. How long have you had that?”

“Dad has an aura too, you know,” Bim put his foot in-between her and his aura.

“Wil’s aura isn’t grey,” Illinois reminded.

Bim glared at Illinois, “You got something to say against Dad?”

“Not to your Dad, we need to get out of here,” Illinois reminded coldly.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bim grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Then all three of them went quiet and Illinois was thankful for the moment to think.

“Hey, Ills?” Bim started, his tone different.

“What?” Illinois took a self-calming breath.

“This a bad time to mention I’m hungry?” Bim admitted.

Illinois resisted the urge to bang his head on the bars, “What type?”

“The other one,” Bim replied.

“How bad?” Illinois turned to look at him, the younger brother still looked human which was good.

“A five,” Bim offered. “It was a two before they started messing with my aura.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get you someone when we get out of here,” Illinois promised, despite wanting to bang his head against the bars and scream in frustration.

Anything else Illinois and Bim might have continued to talk about was stalled when the Host walked in, his bandages more than a bit stained with blood.

“Can we help you?” Bim asked, his tone more than a bit hostile, and his attention laser focused on the man’s blood.

Illinois had been studying the newcomer and some things stuck out. The long coat and bloody bandages, a sharp smile. Things that had plagued Arthur’s dreams as abstract and dark nightmares he’d confided in Illy before he ran away one day, and a figure that was stalking the young author’s mind. But there was something familiar about the person in front of him. “Author?”

“The Author is dead, the Host reawoke in his body,” the Host explained. “He encountered an enemy of the Entity’s that he should not have tried to fight alone.”

Yan stiffened as if she’d been shot or hit.

Bim chuckled a bit nervously, “Nah, come on, this asshole’s lying, there’s no way Artie’s actually dead, he was a tough piece ‘a shit.”

“As much as he would have appreciated such a barbed compliment,” the Host smiled, “the Author cannot come back. The Host is what remains.”

“So Host,” Illinois stayed between Host and his other two siblings. “You working with the heroes.”

“Yes,” Host answered. “He has been helping to keep the Entity out of the heroes’ base.”

“Why?” Illinois demanded.

“Because the Host has a conscious and no hero worship of the Entity,” the Host answered. “Unlike the Author or Illinois.”

“You here to gloat, then?” Illinois asked.

“Partially,” Host reassured, “however the main reason the Host is here now is to pass along a message from the Entity.”

“Really?” Illinois said in disbelief.

The Host gave a big smile, “Yes, the Host had the ability to speak and make a deal with the Entity from massacring the city’s police department in actuality instead of merely daydreaming about doing so.”

“So what’s the message then?” Yan asked.

“Three hours,” the Host told the three young enforcers.

“What?” Yan asked as Illinois didn’t dare break eye contact with the Host.

“The Entity will post bail for Illinois, Bim, and Yan,” the Host commented, “in exactly three hours from the time he made the deal with the Host. So the three siblings now have two hours and forty-five minutes.”

“You asshole,” Illinois spat, turning to gently nudge Yan off her chair. “Tell him we’ll do it in under one.”

The Host smiled, “The Host wishes them the best of luck. The heroes will not let them escape so easily.”

Turning, the Host left, his narrations following him out,

“Three hours?” Bim grumbled to Illinois. “Great, you’re not letting us take that are you?”

Illinois tapped the chair a couple times before slamming it onto the ground and breaking it into pieces, “You shouldn’t want to take it.”

The older enforcer handed a chair each to both Yan and Bim. Bim looked at it with disgust. “I want my knife.”

“We’ll worry about getting your knife after we get out of this cell,” he promised and then took the fourth chair leg and waited for a guard to come back into their cell to guard them before throwing the sharp piece of metal at him.

Silver was staring out towards the parking lot. Dark was standing out there, anyone who had attempted to approach him had been attacked. Now he was just out there, occasionally glancing at his watch. Oliver has nervously reported that Google was in the area before hiding behind Bing, but Silver hadn’t spotted him yet.

Eric was waiting by the door, glaring at Marvin who was readying one of the spikes that Chase had tried to use on Dark earlier.

“Okay so I know the first one didn’t work, but this one should do the trick,” Marvin smiled.

“Host said he won’t attack,” Silver reminded, still staring at Dark.

“Right, trust a demon, sounds like a great idea,” Marvin rolled his eyes, before looking at Eric. “Hey kid, yah know one ‘a his kids, anythin’ we should be aware ‘a?”

Eric’s glare became angrier.

“Hey, Marv, maybe you shouldn’t bring up the boyfriend,” Silver offered.

“His boyfriend’s an international criminal,” Marvin reminded.

“G-Go to hell!” Eric shouted at him.

“Eh, it’s a borin’ place,” Marvin dismissed. “Let me at Damien, I’ll pry Dark off of him.”

“At least wait until he attacks,” Silver ordered. “We need all the help we can get, including the element of surprise.”

The three of them stopped when they heard a scream from deeper into the station. Their communicators crackled to life.

“Fookin’ shite!” Chase yelled at someone on his side of the communicator. “He’s not fookin’ human, stop him.”

“Average, the hell’s goin’ on?” Marvin demanded.

“They’re escaping, an’ I think I know where Bim’s victims have been going,” Chase answered.

“Guard the door,” Silver told Marvin. “Anybody got eyes on them?”

“They’re headed your way, Silv,” Amy reported.

Sure enough Silver could see Illinois walking down the hallway, dusting off his hat.

“Illy!” Eric shouted in excitement.

“Hey, dulcito,” Illinois winked, pulling out what looked like a solid white baton from inside his hat, “you mind stepping away from them, I don’t want you hit on accident.”

“You need to go back to your cell,” Silver corrected, watching Yan and Bim walk over. The real concern was Bim, who had blood running down his chin and staining his suit, his pupils blown wide open and his suit a bit ripped up.

“You hit the one to the left, and I’ll stomp your ankle in,” Illinois threatened Bim.

“No promises,” Bim grinned, way too many sharp teeth to be anything close to human.

“Fine,” Illinois grumbled.

“How’d yah get out ‘a that cell?” Marvin demanded.

“It’s calibrated for Wil, not us,” Illinois answered. “Sorry about the mess we might have made of the place.

“Well I’ve been wanting to try out some new spells,” Marvin said.

Bim stiffened and arched his back, collapsing as he was jolted with a TASER round from Chase’s gun. Chase was bleeding from the head above his eye and his right arm was ripped and bleeding.

“Put that gobshite in a fookin’ straight jacket!” Chase ordered. “An’ a muzzle.”

Bim literally growled out, and Illinois was pulling the studs out as Silver rushed over.

“Come on, come on,” Illinois screwed his eyes shut and ducked.

When he ducked down, Chase pulled the trigger again, but his attention slipped at that second from Illinois to Silver and as a result Silver wound up with a TASER found right in the dead center of his face. It didn’t do any real damage, merely stunning the flying hero.

Silver screamed and Illinois shouted, “Run!”

Bim tried to run for the only person in the vicinity who was bleeding, but Illinois tugged him towards the door.

“No, we’re so close,” Illinois shouted. Bim hissed at him.

“Yer not goin’ anywhere,” Marvin told them, summoning up one of his giant playing card. Yan summoned her katana and dropped into a stance.

“Heads or tails?” Illinois shouted, flipping up a coin into the air.

“What?” Marvin asked in confusion, before just firing as much magic that he could at them, trying to trap them in place.

“Tails!” Illinois called out quickly. The magic beam hit the coin and magically redirected, wrapping around Marvin and the force throwing him out the window.

“Out!” Illinois was dumping what looked like rainbow colored chalk dust in a line on the ground. Silver slammed into some kind of a barrier made by the dust.

Yan was vaulting herself out the window and gasped in joy when she saw Dark.

Illinois breathed in relief when Bim had enough self control to jump through the window instead of attacking Eric.

Right before Illinois could jump through himself, he was grabbed and Eric slammed him into the wall.

“Hey, sweetie,” Illinois smiled at him.

“C-an’t just l-et you three l-leave,” Eric shrugged.

“Ahh, dulcito, you could have just asked for a goodbye kiss,” Illinois smiled, the two of them kissing before Illinois pulled out something that looked like a caulk gun and when he fired it, it shot out a glob of glue that stuck Eric to the wall.

“Illy!” Eric shouted in indignation.

“Sorry sweetheart, I know you got a job and all, and you’re going to be pissed when you find out what Bim did.”

Illinois jumped out the window and smiled at Marvin who was cursing violently.

“Nothing personal,” Illinois smiled. “We tried not to hurt your friends too much.”

“Fook yeh, yah right bastard,” Marvin spat.

Illinois tipped his hat and walked over to Dark, who was mostly ignoring Bim, who was yelling at Dark.

“Time,” Dark announced, looking at his watch as Illinois stopped in front of him. “Forty-five minutes.”

“We do good?” Yan smiled.

“If you were out here, why didn’t you come in to help?” Bim demanded.

“And what would you three have learned?” Dark commented dryly, before finally getting a good look at Bim. “Ahh, you must be hungry.”

“Obviously!” Bim shouted.

Wilford popped into existence, “Am I early?”

He gasped and hugged Yan, “How’d you enjoy your time, princess?”

“I stabbed a man,” Yan smiled, holding her katana up.

The madman laughed, “What about you, Junior?”

“I hated it,” Bim decided it,

“Maybe that will teach you why you need to be careful,” Dark was checking Illinois over as the Host walked out of the station.

“And everything worked out as promised,” the Host smiled.

“I kept my end of the bargain, are they here or not?” Dark growled.

“The Entity must not kidnap the King of the Squirrels or Yancy, unless they want to leave with him,” the Host warned.

“King of the—? Has Kay been the raving lunatic running around the park?” Dark thought on that for a couple seconds, “Fine, but if anything dangerous happens I’ll be forced to protect them how I see fit.”

“The heroes only think the Entity and Wilford are threats,” the Host reminded. “If the Entity will wait and listen, the heroes will not attack.”

Dark was quiet for a couple seconds before nodded, “We need to be quick, your brother is hungry and we’re all overdue to eat actual food.”

The Host nodded, the first thing he did was to help Marvin free himself, Dark summoning Damien’s cane so he would have something to do with his hands. Marvin was always glaring at Dark and Illinois in pure fury.

“Yah know yer kids’ are a pile of shite?” Marvin spat.

“Well there’s no need to be such a poor sport because they came prepared,” Dark smiled, proudly patting Illinois on the shoulder.

Dark became immediately distracted when Silver walked out with King and Yancy, Yancy looking more nervous than King. Something that seemed to make all the other heroes nervous in kind.

“I’ve heard you took over the park?” Dark asked King.

“I did,” King answered. “So stay the hell out of my park, Old Man.”

“Consider it your territory,” Dark promised, “now that I know that it’s yours and not one of those heroes.”

“I am one of the heroes, and I’d appreciate you treating me like one,” King insisted.

“I refuse to plan a way to kill you, full stop,” Dark refused. “The heroes do not deserve you.”

“Well I think they’re great and if you gave them a chance you might like some of them,” King responded.

“Come on, Darky,” Wil smiled, appearing behind King and Yancy, wrapping his arms around them. Both of them reflexively smiled at him. “Don’t they look like they’re having fun. They’re out here living life.”

“Hey, dad, nice to see you again,” King told Wil, rolled his eyes.

“Are they treating you right?” Dark demanded.

“Yeah, I like it there,” King insisted.

“And you would come home if that changed, right?” Dark demanded.

“Yes,” King promised.

“I’d go back ta prison,” Yancy answered.

“Over the Warden’s dead body,” Dark dismissed immediately, Yancy glaring at him.

“Speaking of which, you never talk about how you came into my care,” Dark reminded. “I thought we weren’t mentioning it.”

“We aren’t,” Yancy reminded sharply, but looked more that a bit confused. “I’s only told them about my other folks, not how I’s got ta youse guys.”

Dark looked thoughtful at that, leaning on his cane. “Interesting.”

He turned to look at Bim, “I think I know exactly what to pick up for you Bim. If you’ll be a little patient.”

“As long as I get someone’s heart by the end of it,” Bim hissed.

“Oh don’t worry, you will, we’ve got quite the nasty little mole in my network,” Dark said and opened up a tear in the Void. Wil dove in with Yan, Illinois and Bim following after him.

“I’m very hesitantly trusting you,” Dark reminded the Host. “Don’t let anything happen to them.”

“The Host would not let anything happen to them,” the Host promised.

Dark then turned to the other heroes. “Next time you arrest one of them again, I won’t be so patient.”

“You shouldn’t have raised wanton murderers then,” Silver spat back.

“I’m gonna find a way to banish you,” Marvin promised Dark.

Dark smiled, stepping backwards into the Void, it sent him to a slightly different location than the rest of his family so he could take care of Bim’s newest craving.

And clean house in the process.

8 notes · View notes

thatdarncatchronicles · 4 years

Text

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 3 | An Unexpected Party

Warnings | None

Rating | K+

Genres | Friendship, Family, Snark (it’s totally a genre)

Word Count | 1.5K

Summary: In which Selina catches Jim when he comes back from a date and gives him an unfair amount of grief. Cue milk theft, hot tips, and lots of blushing Jim.

"Evening, Detective."

Selina had to work hard to keep her neutral expression from cracking when Gordon jumped, still half-in, half-out of his coat, and whirled towards her. She settled for an unimpressed quirk of her eyebrow.

"Selina." Jim's mouth smiled, but his eyes were flat as untangled himself from his coat and hung it on a hook by the door. "Make yourself at home." His eyes swept over where she sat, cross-legged in the middle of his counter, and landed on the half-empty bottle of milk in her hands.

"Oh, don't worry. I have."

"So I see." He shook his head, dropping his keys on the counter. "Breaking and entering is illegal, Selina."

Selina feigned offense. "Whoa! Listen, I didn't break anything. The window was open."

"The window was not—we're on the fourth floor."

"And…?"

"How do you even know where I live?"

"I followed you." She threw back a gulp of milk.

His eyebrows shot up. "You followed me."

"You got bad ears or somethin'? That's what I said."

"Tonight?"

Selina could have sworn she saw him flush, just a little. Interesting. "Nah, a few nights ago. You work late, man. I always thought detectives were nine-to-fivers"

He flashed a bitter grin. "Yeah. So did I. Why did you follow me?"

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Detective."

He squinted. "What the—what is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Hey." Her head titled as she looked him up and down. "You look different. Spiffy. You have a meeting today, or something?"

Jim shot her a warning look as he loosened his tie.

Oh. Selina's eyes widened as a wicked grin spread across her face. "No. You were on a date."

Jim slung his suit jacket over his shoulder and headed to his room. His ears were definitely redder than they had been a second ago.

"You were, weren't you!"

The door clicked shut. Selina smirked.

He emerged again a few minutes later, minus tie and shoes, and padded to the kitchen without even glancing at her where she was now sprawled on the couch. She wiggled her eyebrows. "So...How'd it go?"

Jim grabbed a glass from the cupboard and placed it on the counter with a clatter before turning to open the fridge. He rooted around for a few seconds before he blinked, straightened, and slowly, deliberately pushed the door shut. His baleful gaze turned to rest on Selina for a long moment as she took another swig of milk.

Selina smothered her gratification and gave her head an innocent shake. "What?"

He sighed and replaced the glass. "Why are you here, Selina?"

"Hey! No changing the subject. I asked you first."

"What?"

She sat up and threw her hands in the air. "How. Was. Your. Date?"

Jim scoffed, shaking his head as he retrieved the glass and filled it with water instead. His ears were positively pink, now. "You're in my house, without permission, sitting on my couch, drinking my milk, and you want to know how my date went?"

"Fair's fair, Detective." She set the milk on the couch's wooden arm and crossed her arms, leaning back into the cushions. "I asked you first."

Jim made a face that Selina decided to refer to the "Really? Very mature" face. She tucked it away for potential future use and enjoyed his exasperated sigh as he ran a hand over his face and leaned back against the counter. His cheeks were pink, now, too. Oh, yes. Selina dug her heels in.

"Listen, man. Homeless kids ain't got TVs. We gotta get our entertainment somewhere." She gave an inward flinch. Bringing up the homelessness was a mistake. Fortunately, Jim seemed sufficiently annoyed by her persistence to ignore that part.

"Fine, fine. It was good."

She waited expectantly.

He didn't continue.

"Seriously? That's it? Details, my dude."

He rolled his eyes and gave a shrug that was probably supposed to look casual. "We had a good time. It was nice."

"Wow. You are really bad at this. I hope you're not this boring on your dates."

"My dates don't show up in my house uninvited and drink my milk."

"So that's what has you all bent outta shape! Look, man, if it's that big of a deal to you, here. Let me—" She grabbed the bottle up and popped the cap back on, holding it out to Jim as she licked away the residual mustache.

She savored the way his nose wrinkled. "No. Please. By all means, just…" He trailed off, waving his hand in dismissal.

"Suit yourself." She popped the cap off again. "So, are you gonna tell me about her? What's she like?"

"No one's taught you it's not polite to pry into other people's affairs, have they?"

"Who cares about polite? What's her name?"

It was Jim's turn to throw up his hands. "You know what? Alright. Fine. Her name is Lee. She's a doctor. She's kind, smart as they come, and has this smile that just...lights up her face."

Selina watched, wide-eyed, as Jim's expression transformed from deadpan to...worshipful. Gross.

"Lights up the whole room, really. She's great. She's nice. We ate pasta and had a nice time, even though I made a mess by leading with work-talk. I think it might actually—" Jim stopped abruptly, frowning as if surprised at his own speech.

"Wow." Selina shook her head. "Wow."

Jim grit his teeth. "What."

"Nothing, nothing. Just...Gotham's golden boy's got it bad."

The water in Jim's glass sloshed as he threw his arms out in exasperation. "This is only the second time we've gone out. I don't even know if it's gonna work, yet."

"Uh-huh. You were practically making heart eyes. I might puke."

"Yeah? The bathroom's that way. And I'm not Gotham's golden boy." He dragged a chair in front of the couch and straddled it, arms resting across the back. "Alright. Like you said—fair is fair. Why are you here?"

Selina pulled a rolled-up newspaper from her jacket and chucked it at him.

He caught it against his chest and unrolled it to read the headline. "Oh."

GOTHAM'S GOLDEN BOY VOWS TO TRACK DOWN ANACONDA KILLER.

"Yeah. Oh." Selina blew a curl out of her eyes. "You know, you really gotta stop doin' that."

Jim looked up from the article. "Doing what?"

"Oh, I don't know—telling serial killers you're after them? Why not just put a sign on your back that says, 'Snake food! Come and get it! Four out of five vets recommend me!'"

"Ah. Well, I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to worry about me. And I don't think you came here just to warn me off."

"Nah. I came here to tell you I know where he's holed up."

The reaction was instant. Jim leaned forward, eyes on her with a focus so intense, it was all she could do not to squirm. "Where is he?"

"Down, boy. Take it easy. There's an old apartment complex on my block. No one's been in it for years 'cause it looks like it'll topple like a Jenga tower if you so much as sneeze. Anywhere else, it would have been torn down ages ago, but—"

"—it's Gotham." Jim was standing now, searching around his desk and coming up with a pen and paper. "Address?"

He pulled out his phone and made a call, letting it ring as he jotted down the address she gave. "Harvey? We got a lead." He sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "I know. No, I know. I know, Harvey, but—Harvey. Harvey?" Jim made a face and flipped the phone closed. He stared down at it for a moment before shaking his head and darting back into his room. He returned less than a minute later, tie back in place, arms full of his holster, jacket, and shoes.

Selina sat up straighter. "Wait—you're going after him now?"

Jim looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Yeah."

"Even though your partner just told you he wasn't coming." At Jim's look, she continued. "No, I wasn't eavesdropping. It was fairly obvious what went down. So, this is why you always look like you haven't slept in a week. You actually don't sleep. It's all so clear now."

He shrugged into his holster, then his jacket, rolling his shoulders to settle them in place. "How'd you know where he was, anyway?"

"His snake got one of my cats."

Jim looked up from tying his shoes. "You saw it?"

"Ayup."

"You're lucky it didn't get you."

"Yeah, yeah. It's stupid to go in there alone. You should wait for your partner."

"I'll consider it." He waved the address in the air. "Thanks for the tip."

With that, he was out the door and Selina was left to listen to his hurried steps as they echoed down the stairs. She shook her head. Four flights. The fire escape was much faster. Draining the last of the milk, she stood, swung her legs over the windowsill, and leaped out into the Gotham night.

A/N: You’ll never guess what next issue is about!

If you said, “It’s about Jim and Selina going after the Anaconda Killer” you’re exactly right! Good job, you smart cookie.

So, I am currently recovering from typhoid, and my brain was super foggy when I wrote this one. So yeah. If it’s terrible, I blame the typhoid. :P

Follow @thatdarncatchronicles and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to never miss an issue! Next issue up soon. :)

Oh! Also, you are doing great.Yes. You are doing great at life. And if you know you aren’t doing your best--no stress! There’s always tomorrow, and you’re growing and learning just like every other person on the face of the planet. Like me. And my 50 y/o father who told me the other day that he still just feels like he’s pretending to be an adult. He’s really good at it. You will be, too. This is all gibberish, but the point I’m trying to make is that as long as you’re doing just fabulously, and you’re on your way to doing even better. Remember to drink your water today. Hydration is important and makes your skin prettyful. Also, I love you. Peace out, gorgeous soul.

Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620372790294528001/that-darn-cat-issue-no-1-of-spaghetti-and

Issue No. 2 | A Hint of Pesto Aioli:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620559916396052480/that-darn-cat-issue-no-2-a-hint-of-pesto

4 notes · View notes

bunnymossmakes · 4 years

Text

Woo Your Woman [WIP]

[Sharky Boshaw x Francine “Franny” Mayhew]

Rated T for Language and Sexual Content

If there's two things Sharky Boshaw knows like the back of his hand, it's how to start a fire, and how to woo a woman.

Okay, there’s one thing he knows, it's arson. Fire enthusiasm.

But the wooing women part, well. There's some learnin' to do. Specially with that hot-shot Rook out there snatching up all the fine ladies of Hope County. And really, who wants to bang a catch like him when there's a fuckin' cop with loose morals storming around blowing up Peggies like the fourth of July? Used to be he and Hurk could at least catch a wink or a kiss, if not the occasional drunken bathroom blowjob.

And god damnit if he ain't gonna shoot his shot for precisely the latter, from that blonde badger-looking broad across the bar.

“Well honestly I was thinkin' about maybe goin' down to the river by my mama's place and catchin' frogs again after dark, if yer feelin' up to it,” Hurk elbows him just hard enough to bring his bleary-eyed focus over to his cousin, “you wanna maybe pick up some beers and call the Dep and-“

“Man fuck po-po, okay? Well actually don’t, that'd be weird, he's like. Your business partner, man,” Sharky interrupts, tugging on the bill of his cap, “just… sorry cuz. I'm trynna get laid and Rook's gettin' all the bitches. He's got asses bouncing at him left and right and I just wanna see what that girl over there tastes like, you know?”

Hurk blinks once or twice before the tinge of pink flushes his cheeks, certainly not from the excess of shit beer he’s been knocking back, and opens his mouth to retort before deciding another drink is a better option. After one big swig, which Sharky gladly matches, he musters up the proper response.

“Cuz, I don’t think you wanna go down on her right there at the bar-“

“Aw shit man, not what I meant,” he grimaces, “ain’t done that in ages. A pretty gal like her don’t deserve my half-ass attempt.”

“Just ask her h'wat her name is first,” Hurk says simply, tipping his beer bottle towards the very blonde in question, who raises an eyebrow at the two of them.

Never in his damn life has the Spread Eagle suddenly felt so hot. Like, not fire heat, no, that shit's tolerable and preferable, to whatever suffocating swamp is bogging down his lungs and making his face burn red. She’s looking right at him and she doesn’t seem to give a shit. She's looking right at him and fluttering those pretty lashes and – by god she just belched.

Open-mouthed chest-thumping cockles-of-her-soul belched.

Oh god he's in love.

“Pretty lady what's your name?” he blurts before his thoughts have come even halfway back round in his skull, and she stiffens in surprise.

“Me?” she says, and her voice is gruff like sandpaper and oh god he's in love not drunk, in love damnit.

…a little drunk maybe.

“Good job Shark,” Hurk encourages with a pat on the shoulder, and Sharky swats out blindly to hush him up.

The blonde across the bar looks between the two of them, then at herself, down at the dirty t-shirt she's wearing, and back up into his eyes. Can she see into his soul? Is she actually a witch or some shit? Was that belch her wicked mating call, and she’s gonna lure him back to her evil swamp lair and bite his head off like a praying mantis? He swears one of her eyes is a little off kilter but she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“Francine,” she says, almost sounding surprised, but that’s fine, her name is lovely, “er. Frannie.”

He can't even speak. How does he respond to that? Where have his words gone? He definitely passed third grade English. Maybe. Probably not. God damn this bar feels like a sauna.

“Niiice to meeeet yeewww, Frannciiine,” Hurk hisses, “you gotsta respond dude.”

“You're hot,” is what he says instead, “or. It's hot. In here. Cuz you’re. Pretty. I like your shirt. Nice belch.”

Chances ruined. Shot deflected. What the fuck came out of his mouth? This is why he can't get his dick wet.

But Frannie – blessed Frannie – smiles big as can be and hides behind a big swill of her pint. Slams it back down on the bar with froth on her upper lip like the most graceful mustache he's ever seen on a lady (and he’s seen plenty in Hope County.) She doesn’t even bother to wipe it off her face before she’s up out of her seat and heading for the door. But something about that grin on her freckled face says follow me not I'm noping the fuck outta here.

And so he does, with a celebratory if not preemptive whoop from his cousin.

“Git ‘er Sharky!” Hurk claps his hands together, and all he can do is snort as he stumbles off his own stool and after the walking embodiment of his deepest drunken desires.

Following behind her is like chasing a deer through the brush. Except he’s never done that, and she's drunk enough to stumble a little as she trudges out the front door. Granted, so is he, but he’s always carried himself well enough to get by. At least, that's what he tells himself. Hurk says he looks kinda like a bowlegged daddy longlegs when he's drunk, but what does Hurk know about majesty when he sees it?

“This way stranger!” he hears from outside on the porch as the door swings shut between them.

Barging through is easy, but catching up to her halfway across the street is hard when he’s this wobbly.

“Where you goin' Frannie?” Sharky calls, a little more high-pitched than he'd intended, and she laughs real quiet so he can just barely hear.

“Just come on, ballcap, got somethin' to show you!” she says over her shoulder, but he isn’t focused on her face when she angles it back at him, “just across the street!”

“Well alright, but I'll have you know I am a gentleman, thank you very much, and I'm not expecting no free peep show in the alley,” he clarifies, “a man of culture and chivalry only expects titty flashes in the open street, or in the privacy of someone's bedroom - doesn't matter whose.”

He sees her elbows bend, watches her hands settle on the hem of her t-shirt, and holy Bongo II is she gonna turn around and flash him did that just work hello God it’s me Sharky—

Frannie face plants in the gravel not two steps further. Tripped on her own damn feet or something. And in that moment, sprawled in the dirt, limbs akimbo, she may as well be a fallen angel. He can’t even help her up he’s too busy tripping over his own self, ogling at the sight before him. This woman is a mess, and he might be too.

Okay no he totally is.

Somehow he manages to stumble forward and get ahold of one of her hands, and in a semi-fruitless struggle Frannie manages to get her ass under her and up onto her knees with his help. She's got mud on her face, and a skinned elbow, and the lopsided grin she offers says she's just fine.

“Was gonna show you but I fell,” she says simply, and all he can do is nod like an imbecile, “but come on I really wanna show you this other thing!”

The two of them get Francine on her feet and steady enough to start walking, and the second she turns away and out of his loose grasp he panics.

“I’m Sharky nice to meet you Frannie,” he gets out all in one exhale, “you don’t have to show me your tits they’re probably real nice. But I’m too drunk to remember them tomorrow and I'd really want to you know?”

Frannie pauses in her stride and turns back to him, still wearing that wide crooked smile.

“How bout I show you tonight and tomorrow? Why not both?”

“I mean. I’m not gonna say no. But I don’t think either of us are in the right way to be doin' that shit as drunk as we are,” he says, and since when has he cared?

How many women has he let yank him to the bathroom or out by the dumpster to fuck around with after a long night of drinking? …not as many as he’d like to imagine. Maybe only like two. Okay, he's got a point.

His companion simply nods, fine enough with his opinion, and ambles back on down her path. This time he manages to catch up to her and match her stride, and before he knows it he's mustered up the courage to reach out and hold her hand. The whole thing is giving him butterflies, and if Hurk could see him now he’d probably tease him for a solid month about it. The great Charlemagne Victor Boshaw, reduced to holding hands with a cute girl, going off on some adventure.

Seems she's leading him to the water tower nearby, and he’s fully prepared to tell her he’s scared of heights, but she keeps on walking. Up the little hill, towards the outside of town, to the little patch of trees up the road. The thought strikes him that perhaps he's about to get stabbed, or shot, or stabbed and shot – or maybe she really is gonna bite his head off in her evil lair – but then she looks to him and smiles again, squeezes his hand, and, nah, he’ll be fine.

#sharky boshaw #far cry 5 #moss writes #fanfiction #sharky x oc #frannie boshaw #far cry oc #far cry #ubisoft

11 notes · View notes

theblackandgold-series · 5 years

Text

The Prince and The Boy (7)

Chapter 7: Talk 2 U

A College AU

Texas Southern University (Houston, TX)

Ship: Chiron Harris x Erik Stevens

Warning(s): none

Song Playing In The Car

Erik is great at many things and procrastination is definitely one of them considering he was supposed to leave to meet up with Khalil for warm up 10 minutes ago. An incoming call from Khalil interrupts Erik’s frenzied state.

“Nigga where the hell you at? Coach is lookin’ for you. You were supposed to be here a while ago. ”

“I’m on my way, just give me a mi—“. Another call, this time from Shuri on his kimoyo beads, interrupts him yet again. “Man what the fuck do y’all want?” Erik brooded, “I got shit to do.” He raises his phone back to his ear, “Look, Imma be there. Just give me a few more minutes.” He hangs up with Khalil and answers his beads , “What’s up cuzzo?”

“N’Jadaka! How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I know, I’ve been busy. What’s up? How’s auntie?”

“She’s doing well; so is T’Challa. Speaking of mother,” Shuri quickly changed the subject, “she told me that you made a new friend.”

“A new friend, huh?” Erik chuckles, “Yeah, she be telling all my business.”

Erik walks out of the door with his stuff in his hand and heads to meet his teammates, all while continuing to talk to his cousin, who, just like her mother, wanted to know all about Chi. “Soooo, are you going to tell me about this ‘friend of yours?”

“What do you want to know about him?” Erik smiles, thinking about Chi as he drives to practice.

“Well, mother already told me his name, so what’s he like? Is he as wild as you?”

“Nah, he ain’t wild like me. you gotta chill on me lil cuz, but he’s chill. Real quiet, runs track. I don't know what else to tell you about him.”

Erik pulls into the gym parking lot, quickly grabbing his things and rushing out of the car, still continuing his conversation with Shuri.

“I mean he real shy, so I’m not trying to push him into anything, but he knows how I feel about him. He had a bad relationship so he’s not sure, which I understand. When things are back on track and we get to know each other more, y’all can meet him.” There’s a brief pause as Erik tries to end the conversation with Shuri since he’s getting closer to the gym. “But hey, I have a game to get ready for, tell everyone I love them and I’ll call you tomorrow or something.” He hangs up on the beads, Shuri barely getting her “goodbye” out.

Erik walks in the building, rushing to where his team is. He only gets a few seconds until he’s getting greeted by various teammates and eventually makes his way to Khalil. “What took your ass so long, man?”

“Sorry, I got caught up on the phone with my cousin.”

“Don’t let it happen again, Stevens,” his coach scolded him as he walks past. Erik nods in acknowledgement and turns back to Khalil.

“You sure that’s all that held you up,” Khalil questions lowly so only Erik can hear. “What you mean?”

“I thought that maybe,” Khalil continues “that Chi might’ve texted you or something.”

“Nah, I keep checking my phone for him,” Erik admits, “but I was just talking to my family.” Khalil nods, lightly tapping Erik on the arm, “Hey, he’ll call eventually.”

Erik just gives a shrug “Look man, it is what it is. It’d be great if he calls, but it’s not much I can do at this point.”

Erik brushes the conversation off and focuses on this game tonight. He can’t stress about Chi right now.

Erik and Khalil start talking about other non-Chi related things, when Erik’s attention is pulled away when he hears his name being called from across the locker room “Stevens!”. His head snaps toward where his name came from and finds his teammate, Sean. Erik looks over to him, “What you want nigga?”

Erik never really got along with Sean due to his cockiness, which leads to frequent arguments on and off the field about his ways, but Sean wasn’t changing for anyone.

“I just wanted to say ‘good luck’, nigga. Damn.”

“You too, nigga” Erik nods with not a bit of sincerity, and goes back to what he was doing.

As Sean walks off, Khalil speaks up again “Yo, I heard something about him the other day.”

”Who?”

“Sean. Apparently him and some dude had a thing and he played him.”

Erik doesn’t really think anything of it, only adding “Sounds about right. That nigga ain’t no good.”

After an intense game ending in victory, Erik talks to Khalil and one of his other teammates, Chance, as they all file back into the locker room. Slowly, everyone starts to leave until its just Erik and Khalil left.

“I’m bout to head out,” Khalil tells Erik as he grabs his bag and starts towards the door, “You comin?”

“Yeah, man. Give me a second.”

Chance walks back in, wondering why the pair is taking so long. “What y’all niggas doing?”

“We walking out, bro.” Erik gets up, grabs his bags and they start to leave.

As they’re walking towards the door, they see Chi walking up and give a small wave.

“Hi,” he looks directly at Erik, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Erik's face lights up, “Yeah, yeah, of course we can talk.” He turns to Khalil and Chance. “I’ll catch up with y’all later.” Khalil and Chance smirk to each other as they walk to their cars.

After they leave, Erik gives his full attention to Chi. “So...how are you?”

“I’m good. How’re you?”

“Better now that you’re here.” Erik’s flirtatiousness never took a break. They might not have spoken for a minute, but he still missed Chi. He especially missed how he made Chi nervous in a good way; his shyness made him even more adorable. Chi smiles and Erik’s reminded of how much he missed that pretty ass smile, too.

“Good game tonight by the way” Chi snaps out of his daze just taking the sight of Erik in.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Thank you for coming tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” There’s a slight pause before Erik continues, “So...what did you want to talk about?”

“Us,” Chi responds boldly. “I figured,” Erik breathed, “What about us exactly?” Erik doesn’t show it, but he’s bracing himself for the worst. If Chi calls this whole thing off, he has to be ready for it.

Chi begins to speak as he leads Erik out of the building and out into the parking lot, “I took some time out to think about us, and what you said the last you came over after the date” Chi begins. “Okay,” Erik mumbles cautiously.

“And I think,” Chi continues “I finally figured it out.”

They stop in front of Erik’s car. “I do want this. I’m nervous, but I’m sure that I want this” Chi says, as they walk to Erik’s car.

Erik lets out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding. “Well that’s good, because I still want this, too. There is one thing I want to get straight if we are gonna do this, though.” Chi gets worried. This was going good, so what did Erik want to talk about?

“I wanna make sure that this doesn’t happen again.” Chi’s confused for a second before Erik continues. “I’m not talking about you needing space, that’s fine, I’m talking about us communicating. I know I said something about it before, but I just wanna be clear: if this is gonna work, we need complete honesty. That means telling me when something’s bothering you. It’s also means trusting me to tell you things. I’m not the type to hide things.”

Chi nods. He realizes him shutting down when he’s not sure about things or he’s upset isn’t going to work this time. If things are going to be different with Erik, he has to be different.

Chi catches movement out of the corner of his eye over Erik’s shoulder.

It’s Sean, making his way over to him and Erik.

He walks over and addresses Erik first, dapping him up, which Erik reluctantly returns. “Proud of you nigga. Keep it up E.” Hand still clasped with Erik’s, he winks at Chi, “How you doin’, Chiron?” He smirks, drops Erik’s hand, and walks away. Erik’s eyes boring into his back until he disappears He looks back to Chi “What was that?

Chi’s playing with his keys, avoiding Erik’s eyes, “That’s my ex.”

Erik’s shaking his head. It all makes sense now. Erik’s thinking “I knew I didn’t like that nigga for a reason.”

“Yeah, his attitude is terrible,” Chi says rolling his eyes which land on his shoes, not wanting to make eye contact with Erik after what just happened.

“Hey, I don’t wanna talk about that nigga. We talking about us.” Erik holds Chi’s hands to stop him playing with his keys. “Ok.” Chi’s voice is soft. Erik unlocks his car and puts his stuff inside.

“Let’s sit in the car and talk” Erik offers. Erik, ever the gentleman, open Chi’s door for him, then walks to the driver’s side to get in himself. As soon as the door closes, he turns his body towards Chi.

“Everything I said after our first date and now, I mean it. I'm so serious, I want this and I'm not gon do you like he did. You deserve more than that. You gotta let me in, though.”

Chi gives him a small nod and another quiet “Okay”. He’s ready to try, he’s ready to try and let go of all the past pain because if the future looked anything like Erik, then that seemed pretty good to him.

“Okay?” Erik wants to hear Chi louder.

“Okay” Chi’s a little louder so Erik can hear him, with a teasingly exasperated tone “I hear you” Chi looks over to Erik.

Erik reaches over to hold Chi’s hand. “So what’s next for us?” Chi asks. He’s never really had this conversation before.

Erik’s playing with Chi’s hand as he answers him, “More communication, more spending time together.” Erik looks to him.

“I like the sound of both of those things.”

There’s a comfortable silence as they just stare at each other. They both start to lean in, but Erik closes the gap. Chi’s tenses up at first, but quickly eases into the kiss

He allows himself to fully give into the kiss, trying to convey to Erik through the kiss that he’s willing to give this relationship a real shot and that he wasn’t going to run away. Not this time.

Chi pulls away first, smiling at Erik. “I'm gonna hold you to everything you’ve said.”

“I got you, Chi” Erik smirks at him.

After almost two hours of them sitting, talking and smiling at each other, Chi starts to get out of the car. Erik stop him before he can fully open the door. “Hold up, you think Ima just let you walk to your car”

“What, you gon take me over there?”

Erik looks at him like it should be obvious. “yeah, now get back in” Erik motions for him to get in. Chi settles back into the car, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Erik turns his music back up and pulls off.

Music comes through the speakers. Erik’s vibing and Chi’s riding with his eyes closed, thinking back to the kiss. Even with Sean he never felt anything like that, it always felt forced. He felt at ease with Erik.

They pull up to Chi’s car too quickly for either of their likings, so they continue to sit for a minute, not wanting the moment to end. Erik’s sitting with his seat back as they talk some more and continue to listen to music. Finally, they both decide that the night has come to an end. “Ima call you later tonight” Erik looks over to Chi, that seductive smirk still on his face.

“I'll be up,” Chi grins.

“Say less.” Erik’s enjoying the new courage Chi has found. It’s enough for him to flirt back and Erik can’t wait to see what else the newfound courage will lead Chi to do.

Chi makes the first move this time, leaning in with Erik meeting him halfway. Their lips stay locked until they have to come up for air. Erik wraps his arms around him, hugging him. Erik pecks his lips one last time. “Text me when you get home.”

Chi has to stop himself from saying “okay” for the 30th time. “I will. You’ll answer, right?”

“Of course, I got you.” Erik grabs his hand and squeezes it, “I always text you back” Erik laughs. Everyone else knows he’s a terrible texter but for Chi, he makes sure to respond.

“Ima go, but I’ll be up when you call.” Chi finally gets out of the car gets into his. Erik watches as he drives off before going home himself. He spends the whole ride home thinking about Chi, the smile not coming off of his face once.

Once he gets home he showers and changes real quick. Once he’s in bed he calls Chi and they end up talking the rest of the night about them, school, and other things that come to mind. Before he hangs up, Erik remembers seeing that Kendrick Lamar will be in Houston soon and has a date idea in mind.

“Hey, so next weekend I’m free and Kendrick’s coming to Houston. Do you want to go with me? I’ll pay for the tickets and everything, it ain’t no issue for me.” Erik beamed excitedly, not waiting for Chi’s answer before he continues. “We can get something to eat before a chill around the city. Whatever you want.”

Chi’s loving it. Just being able to see someone being so happy at the thought of spending time with him was amazing. “Sounds good to me.”

“Cool, it’s a date,” Erik yawns as he sets the date.

“You tired?” Chi guesses, rubbing his own eyes as he lays in bed.

“Yeah, I need some sleep. I’ve been busy all day” the night’s game finally catching up with him, zapping all of his energy. “Good night, Erik.”

“Good night, Chi. You gon sit with me in class monday, right?” Chi laughs. “Yeah, I am.”

Erik smiles, “Aight, I’ll talk to you later.”

tags: @wakandas-vibranium @bartierbakarimobisson@randomwordprompts@storibambino@theultimateblacknerdwithglasses@stressedgyal @great-neckpectations @wakandan-flowerz@blackgirloneshots @panthergoddessbast@maya-leche@texasbama @killmongerdispussy @yaachtynoboat711 @hearteyes-for-killmonger@erikaintdead @blackmissmarvel @blackpantherislife @awkwardlyabstract @blowmymbackout @forbeautyandlife @babygirlofwakanda @theunsweetenedtruth @icedcawfee @killmongersgurl @babybluepeaches @eriknutinthispoosy @vikkidc @killmoncoochie@nicknameiskittie @onyour-right @hidden-treasures21 @afro-royalty @hazzasunrise

#erik killmonger fic #Erik Killmonger #moonlight x black panther #chiron x Erik #killmonger fic #Chiron Harris #erik stevens #black panther fanfiction

128 notes · View notes