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jumblejen · 1 year

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We Were Always Going to End Up Together - Ch 30

Suptober 22, Day 30: Fingers

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/117534598

(Or read from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/106051008)

The cookout ended up being even better than Dean could have hoped. Their guests stayed for hours and ate and talked and laughed and Dean couldn’t contain the joy that he thought must be shooting out every pore. Even grumpy Bobby laughed more than Dean had ever heard before. Gabriel and Rowena flirted with everyone liberally, but not in tandem in a strange dance that suited them both perfectly but made Dean’s head hurt when he considered how all that worked in their relationship. Cas had been a solid presence all day, a never-ending stream of kisses and touches which almost made Dean wish the social part of their evening would end a little faster.

It seemed as though as the night went on Sam was less awkward with everyone. Dean didn’t know how much anyone here had kept in touch with Sam, if at all, but whatever the current status of their friendships with him, no one seemed to be holding any major grudges or ruining anyone’s good time. A little while after they had all finished round one of stuffing their faces, Dean had seen Sam and Benny walk a little farther off from the party, wandering around the yard. He kept an eagle eye on them, wanting to be sure that Sam wasn’t going to be even a little bit of a jackass towards Benny. The conversation lasted longer than Dean thought a simple apology would, but their body language never shifted to actively hostile and there were no raised voices. Benny had seemed plenty pleased with himself after they drifted back to the others. Dean and Cas had exchanged glances with each other, but neither had any clue exactly what had gone down.

Eileen didn’t seem to talk with Sam very much, though it was clear that she wasn’t avoiding him either, and Sam seemed just as tentative about how much he should try to engage in conversation with her. He was definitely still pining over her. Whenever Sam thought no one was looking he’d get this lovesick puppy expression that Dean had to try hard not to laugh at. Eileen’s looks at Sam when he wasn’t looking were much more considering, though never hostile. Dean even thought they softened as the evening progressed.

Eventually night fell and the stars came out. There was less light pollution here than in town, and everyone enjoyed stargazing for a bit until the damp air had them crowd back around the fire in the firepit. Cas handed out sticks and marshmallows, while Dean passed around plates of graham crackers and chocolate bars. No one minded the stickiness, though there was a heated debate over whether a marshmallow should or should not be set on fire at any point during the cooking process. No one took it too seriously, though Dean made a note of those who would not be happy if he was the one doing the roasting. Thankfully he and Cas were on the same page.

After everyone was well and truly stuffed, the party began to break up and folks started leaving. First, it was Meg and then most of the others followed suit. Gabe and Rowena left cackling about some private joke that Dean knew from experience was not one he wanted to be let in on. Everyone thanked them for a wonderful night, and left in a parade of taillights from the driveway. Sam and Eileen hugged before she left, so Dean had some hope they’d reconcile, even if it didn’t happen right away. Sam stood watching her taillights as she pulled out of the driveway and left down the road.

“You alright there Sammy?” asked Dean.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good. Wanna stay for another round?”

“Nah. I better get home. Hafta work tomorrow.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for coming.”

“You bet Dean.” Sam took his car key out of his pocket. “Hey Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it weird if I asked for a hug?”

Dean smiled. They hadn’t hugged each other since January. Normally they’d hug whenever they saw each other, just like they had since they stopped living under the same roof. “Of course, man.”

Sam seemed relieved as he threw his arms around Dean. The hug was fierce but short. “Okay. I’m headed out.”

“Drive safe Sammy.”

Dean waved as Sam pulled out of the driveway. He turned and walked back to the backyard, ready to help Cas clean up.

“So it’s Sammy again, huh?” asked Benny, who was the only remaining guest.

“Yeah, it’s Sammy. That a problem for you?”

“Not so long as it means you aren’t gonna let him walk all over you again, cher.”

“I won’t let him,” said Cas, sidling up to Dean and kissing his cheek.

“You leaving or staying, Benny?” asked Dean.

Benny smiled. “Oh, I think I’ll stay if you’re okay with that.”

“Hell yeah. You can check out our new guest room.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“It’s really nice in there,” said Dean cheekily.

Cas slipped his arm around Dean’s waist, “It’s really nice in where?”

“The guest room,” drawled Benny.

Cas laughed. “No one’s sleeping at all if we don’t get this stuff cleaned up.”

“Alright, bossy,” grumbled Dean with kiss.

Cleanup didn’t take that long as most everyone had taken their dishes back home with them, and it wasn’t like anyone was leaving garbage in their wake. But there were still empty cans and bottles to set aside to take to the recycling return place for their deposits. And stray napkins and bits of food here and there. Dean wanted to leave the bits to whatever opportunistic wildlife came around once they’d cleared out, but Cas thought that was too messy and probably not good for their digestion. Benny figured raccoons could and would eat just about anything, but picked things up at Cas’ direction.

Dean made sure that the fire was completely out, not wanting to leave it to chance. Some of the chairs folded up into little travel bags and those were put away and stacked in the basement. The heavy Adirondack chairs stayed by the firepit. Dean and Cas had found they enjoyed evenings in the warm weather by the fire quite a bit.

“You know what you need,” said Benny in the quiet as they sat back down in the chairs by the cold firepit.

“What’s that?” asked Dean sleepily.

“A swing.”

“A swing?” echoed Dean.

“You know. Like to put under one of these trees out here. Sit in the shade and swing a little. I can just picture you and Cas out here.”

Cas smiled at Benny. “I think I’d like that.”

“You wanna swing Cas? I’ll get you a swing,”

“Will you put it together for me?”

“’Course.”

“Told you you should get a swing.”

“I think Dean needs to go to bed,” said Cas

“I’m not that sleepy.”

“Dean, you pulled a late shift yesterday and were running around getting ready for the party all day. It’s okay to be tired.”

“It’s nice out here.”

“Yeah, it sure is. It is a nice place you two decided on. Bugs are going to start getting you though.” Benny stood up and stretched. “Guess I should break in that guest room. Come on princess.” Benny held out a hand to Dean, who took it with minimal grumbling to help him up.

“So what exactly were you and my brother talking about for so long,” asked Dean, his arm around Benny’s waist as Cas followed behind them.

“Don’t you worry about it.”

“He’s not worried,” said Cas. “He’s just dying of curiosity.”

Benny laughed. “I bet. It wasn’t much more than you could guess.”

“So, he apologized?”

“Yes, Dean, he apologized.”

“That doesn’t take as long as y’all took.”

“Did you know you start to talk a little southern when you hang out with me?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Neither did you.”

“The two of you are ridiculous. And I bet I could guess what else they talked about.” Cas sounded both fond and exasperated with them.

“Oh yeah?” Dean let go of Benny and went to cling to Cas. “What’s that?”

“That Benny was telling Sam in great detail exactly what he would do to Sam if he ever hurt you like that again. Along with what I would do to him.”

Benny laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

“I can take care of myself,” protested Dean.

“No you can’t, Dean,” retorted Cas. “I think we’ve proven that you do much better with two strong men taking care of you.”

“Oh yeah? When are they going to get here?”

Cas stopped and squinted at Dean in the dimness, his head tilting in consideration.

Dean squawked as without a word Cas scooped Dean up over his shoulder as he walked faster back towards the house. “Hey put me down!”

Benny patted Dean’s head where it hung by Cas’ waist. “Hush now. You don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“Cas I swear if you drop me…”

“I won’t drop you.”

“Benny, this is ridiculous! Why aren’t you on my side?”

Benny opened the side door to the house that led into the kitchen. Dean felt Cas carefully step inside, where he quickly made his way to the living room, plopping Dean down on the couch and then standing back with a fierce grin on his face.

“I’m on your side, but I’m pretty sure Cas would smite me if I didn’t let him just have his way.” Benny’s smile was wide as he peered at Dean on the couch.

“Well, at least you didn’t manhandle me,” said Dean to Benny.

“I mean, I could…” said Benny speculatively, fingers stroking his chin.

“Don’t you dare!”

Cas and Benny laughed at Dean’s indignation as he stood up and tried to stomp off in a pretend huff.

The rest of the summer passed quickly, with a couple more barbecues with various configurations of guests and food. Sometimes just one or two people would stop by and hang out. Dean loved that just as much, if not more, because it was clear how much Cas enjoyed being able to speak to whoever it was in-depth instead of dividing his attention among a group.

Dean fell more in love with their new home as the weeks passed. And he was sure to get a decent swing put up under Cas’ favorite shady tree. If the mosquitos weren’t too bad, Dean and Cas loved to swing in the evenings as the sun went down. Dean imagined they would continue using it for a few months until the chill and the weather made it more practical to put it up for the winter. Dean would miss the swing, but on the other hand, he figured they’d just move their evening relaxation to in front of the fire. There would definitely be snuggling.

Sam came out and dug holes per Cas’ direction. He also took it in stride when Cas did, in fact, change his mind about where he wanted to plant a particular tree several times. From the glint in Cas’ eyes, Dean was afraid that he was going to continue making Sam dig holes until Sam lost his temper, but thankfully it seemed that four holes was enough for secret penance and Cas’ general enjoyment. After that, Cas was more relaxed when Sam came around, and Sam made real efforts to get to know Cas as a person.

It was late August and Sam was over for his once-every-couple-weeks dinner after work. He’d brought a dozen ears of corn for Dean to throw on the grill alongside some skewers of marinated chicken and veggies. Cas and Sam were in the house getting plates and other necessities since the weather was reasonable enough in the shade to eat outside, as long as they stayed in the shade. Dean was tending to the grill, figuring it would only be a few more minutes before he could get everything started, when Eileen walked through the back gate.

Dean looked up in surprise. “Eileen! What a nice surprise.” Dean signed the parts of that he could.

“Hey Dean. Sorry to just drop in.” Eileen gave Dean a big hug.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just was out this way and wanted to not be alone today.”

“Tough day?”

“Toughest.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to hang out with us. But, I have to warn you. My brother is inside, in case that makes a difference.”

“I saw his car.”

“That okay with you?”

Eileen sighed and looked away. “Yes. It’s fine Dean.”

“Alright. Wanna go scare the crap out of Cas and Sam by busting in the kitchen, or hang out here with me?”

“That would be funny, but sounds like too much today.”

“Well, grab a drink out of the cooler and take a seat under the tree. I recommend the swing if you want to decompress.”

With a grateful smile, Eileen fished a bottle out of the cooler, deposited her bag over by the table and chairs set up for dinner and then plunked herself down in the swing, pushing herself slightly to get the swing going before tucking her legs up under her. Dean shot a quick text message to Cas letting him know. While he was always a fan of the comedy of errors approach to life, he didn’t think it was appropriate with Eileen clearly needing peace, and her relationship with Sam still being a giant question mark.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a response from Cas telling Dean that they would be out soon and that he let Sam know. Sure enough, the came bearing plates and flatware, along with the platters of skewers. Cas kissed Dean on the cheek as he dropped off the food and then made his way over to Eileen. She gave him a big hug without getting out of the swing. Sam set the supplies down on the table that sat under another shade tree and then stood fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Dean almost felt sorry for the guy, since he clearly wasn’t sure whether he should go see Eileen or keep his distance. Almost. After all, Sam did make his own bed there.

In the end Sam decided to go say hi, and Dean had to bite his tongue from outright laughing at the way once he decided to go, Sam hustled over quickly. There was no hug for Sam, but Eileen and Sam seemed to be having a nice conversation, while Cas came and joined Dean at the grill.

A short time later, everything was ready and Dean was excited to get out of the sun. Cas had given up after a couple of minutes to go sit in the shade. Sam and Eileen had stayed with the swing until Dean called them over for food.

There wasn’t much conversation while they munched their way through corn and chicken and veggies. Smiles and groans of appreciation at the food replaced proper conversation until everyone had eaten enough to feel that maybe talking was something they should attempt as well. Conversation stayed light and enjoyable. Eileen didn’t explain her presence to anyone, and no one asked her to. Dean thought that was his favorite thing about his friends. Everyone knew that they were welcome and that if they needed something they just had to ask. None of that came with some sort of requirement that you bear your soul or give anyone the gory details. If Eileen needed to talk, she would. Right now, Dean figured she needed good food and good company, and that was something Dean was more than willing to provide any day of the week.

“Dean,” Eileen said, waving her hand to get his attention.

“Hmm?” replied Dean, his thoughts nowhere in particular.

“I brought pie.”

“You did?”

“I know it’s your favorite.”

“Is it in the bag?” Dean was very excited at the prospect of pie despite his earlier mellow contentment.

Sam laughed. “Maybe we should take these plates in first Dean? And get new ones? Maybe something to slice the pie with?”

Dean huffed in mock-disappointment. “Oh alright. If you want to be proper about it.”

Cas smiled at Dean and handed his plate to Sam.

“I’ll help,” said Eileen as she took Dean’s plate and walked with Sam back into the house.

“Think there’s something happening there tonight,” asked Dean.

Cas frowned in thought. “Did you manufacture their meeting like this?”

“Me? No! I wouldn’t do that to Eileen. I mean, it’s funny to mess with Sam, but nah.”

“Then maybe…maybe there is something ‘happening’ as you say.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the air quotes, even though he secretly found them adorable. “Should we say something? Do something?”

“No. I think it will play out without us.”

“Okay. ‘Cause you know some time together sitting on that swing might just seal the deal.”

“Do you want your brother to seal the deal on our swing?” Cas was completely deadpan even as Dean’s face contorted in disgust.

“You know what, man. No. That’s just. Now I am picturing things I never want to picture about my brother. Ugh.”

“Ugh what?” asked Sam carrying new plates and forks.

“Nothin’ Sammy,” said Dean. “What kind of pie is it?”

“Cherry and apple,” responded Eileen.

“My favorite,” said Sam faintly in surprise.

Cas and Dean exchanged a look, but Dean managed to keep a straight face. “Well, don’t just stand there, Sammy. Start slicing.”

Shooting a glare at Dean, Sam did as he was told and gave each of them a generous piece of pie. It wasn’t the best pie Dean ever had (that was reserved for Ellen’s homemade pies), but it was decent and more importantly, it was there for him to have right then.

Pie finished, everyone gathered up the remains of the food and the dishes, trooping into the house together. Normally when Sam would come over, he and Dean would spend some time just the two of them outside talking. It was another step in trying to repair their relationship. Tonight, however, Dean didn’t think that was going to happen.

“Dean, I think I’m going to get going a little early tonight.”

“Yeah man. Of course. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for cooking. Seems like you try out something new every time I’m over.”

“You are my favorite test subject.”

Sam laughed.

“I think I’m blocking you in,” said Eileen.

“Do you want me to move your car for you? If you want to stay longer.” Sam’s face was full of longing that no one in the room missed.

“I think I’m going to go too,” she said, not breaking eye contact with Sam.

The two of them stood awkwardly staring at each other until Cas coughed. They blushed and each took a half-step back. They made their goodbyes, both of them refusing any leftovers to take with them. Dean and Cas walked them out and waved until they were both out of sight.

“So Cas. Wanna take bets on whether they spend the night alone?”

“That sounds like a terrible bet.”

“Because you think they will end up together tonight, or because you think they won’t.”

“The only way they aren’t going to be together tonight is if Sam is a complete ass.”

“Possible.”

“Not likely.”

“True. Not likely. He clearly wants to get back together with her pretty badly.”

“I think she wants the same thing.”

“Well, I hope those crazy kids can work things out.”

“Sam’s come a long way.”

“Yes he has.” Dean leaned into Cas’ side. He realized they were just standing staring at their driveway. “Come on. Let’s go sit down. I’m beat.”

“Come swing with me?”

“Of course Cas.”

They headed around back and settled into the swing, Cas tucked against Dean’s chest, their arms and hands intertwined. The swaying of the swing created a gentle breeze and all of it was just about the most Dean could ask for.

#destiel #suptober22 #fingers

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icantbelieveitsnotcanon · 3 years

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Deancas wedding guest headcanons—

Guests aren’t “sent” invitations so much as they “demand” invitations (bc you know word gets around pretty quickly)

Random demon #219 demands an invitation because “I once told Castiel he and Dean were ‘joined at the everything,’ I practically pushed them together.”

Alfie just keeps looking sad until Castiel not only invites him but makes sure he’s seated at the front.

Chuck is the only one who shipped Dean and Cas who was conspicuously not invited. Gabriel makes sure he knows it’s happening, though.

Dean originally asked Sam to officiate because he’s all book smart and such, but Rowena strolls in and tells Sam he’s in her spot. And (john mulaney voice) it’s the deancas wedding—things are already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

Sam, still at the altar but now as best man, starts crying within the first minute of the ceremony, so that was a good call, Rowena.

John Winchester was invited because Dean secretly wanted him there, but he’s the first and only guest to be kicked out for trying to stab another guest.

Jack is there: dutiful son on the outside, god and the cosmic bouncer on the inside

Crowley, bitter and lonely ex, was the one who goaded John into trying to stab him.

In a corner, a roundtable of angels and demons draws a small audience as they try to one-up each other with stories about who was first to notice just how hot Dean and Cas were for each other. Balthazar moderates (a terrible choice).

Meg definitely takes that as an opportunity to tease Dean that she kissed Cas like 13 years before he did. He tells her to blow him, but she winks and says that’s Cas’s job now.

Hannah and Crowley try to get drunk at the bar and end up lamenting being unable to get drunk at the bar.

Claire and Kaia are two shots away from ganking all the demons in attendance at all times, but as the groom’s daughter and daughter-in-law, they are never unnoticed long enough to do it.

Donna is the wildcard who gets drunk and makes out with Crowley behind the bar.

Gabriel comes in swinging on a Chuck piñata.

Ash, Kevin and Charlie become best friends over karaoke, bonding over being geniuses.

Jack is the one who didn’t forget to invite Adam.

Sam and Eileen can only be found on the dance floor

Mary keeps trying to find a quiet moment to tell Dean how proud she is of him (this takes a while)

Metatron makes a toast. Nobody wants him to make a toast, but he does anyway, and it’s actually kind of touching.

Metatron ends his toast by announcing that Gabriel, who bet “those two chuckleheads won’t get their heads out of their asses until they’re both dead for good,” won the office pool. This is less touching.

Ellen and Jody watch the chaos, drink moderately, and bond over how much mothering everyone around them needs.

(How these people are all there even though half are in hell, purgatory, the empty, or earth)

#castiel #destiel #dean winchester #deancas #destiel wedding #deancas wedding #spn season 16 #back on my bullshit #jk i never left #look it’s either this or i refresh the impeachment news every 30 seconds okay

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

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Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place.

* * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.”

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

* * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later.

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks.

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.”

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

* * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s.

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

* * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * *

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right.

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?”

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach.

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal.

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

* * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them.

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair.

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #15x18 au #15x20 au #fix-it #canon divergence #canon au #profoundnet #rae writes fic #psychological torture #angst

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thevoidscreams · 3 years

Note

ok, so can i request quentin,yui, and felix with a survivor s/o! that’s a killers ex? like they’ll be in a chase together then the s/o and killer will stop and talk shit for 30 minutes while everyone else works on gens. or even worse if they are friends with ex (friends is pushing it, they’re on good terms because they’re scared for their frickin life), and will get along with killer during the trial and try to sacerfice them last. it can be any format, whatever works for you! have a great day/night! ❤️

(Sorry about any spelling or grammatical errors. Also the wait.)

Quentin:

It would be an understatement to say that you were the world to Quentin Smith. You were his go to pillar for support and he was yours. Life outside the realm had been hard but existence in the Entity’s realm was a whole over nightmare and it was one he couldn’t wake up from.

Despite all that, there was one good thing about this new nightmare, and that was that he got to spend it with you.

New people arrived periodically, as did new killers, but none of that seemed to bother you. Quentin had heard about the new monsters all the time from other survivors. Knowing that soon enough it would be something that he’d have to face. So he did his best to prepare. Staying with you when the Entity allowed, being calmed by your presence.

He despaired of being put in trials with you, the thought of hearing your screams as you were hooked, or watching you get downed by a killer’s weapon, it was simply something he could not become accustomed to. He loved you after all and seeing you hurt, especially by freddy, was unbearable. So his heart grew heavy as the fog that rolled over the camp swallowed you as well, depositing you alongside himself, Ash and Claudette in the AutoHaven. Grasping your hand he pulled you closer. “Come on, let's stick together.” You didn’t argue, squeezing his hand and giving him a soft smile.

That plan quickly went to absolute hell. The Entity’s unfortunate choice of killer this round made you want to pull your hair out.

Rin Yamaoka.

You'd dated briefly during your time as an exchange student in Japan. She was so beautiful and You'd fallen for her so fast. But it became too difficult to hide the nature of your relationship from her family and her father just about lost his mind when he discovered the two of you alone in her room holding each other. The jerk didn't even have the decency to knock, just burst in right as you kissed her cheek.

His yelling was still ingrained in your mind. His harsh biting words and the way he roughly grabbed you and quite literally threw you out of his house. Rin begging and crying the whole time for him not to hurt you.

You weren't allowed back over to their place after that.

The relationship petered out despite your best efforts to keep it alive with secret meetings in the park at night.

You cried when Rin officially broke things off. It was at one of your secret rendezvous, she kissed you one last time and told you that despite how her heart was so full of love for you that her parents disapproved and the students were starting to catch on. She didn't want that kind of ridicule to fall on you.

You remained close for the whole of your time studying in Japan. When you left she saw you off and you gave her one last hug. Then she was gone and you got on the plane and flew away, but you left your heart in Japan.

Seeing her now you were frozen, stuck in place as your mind flashed through all your memories together and the tragic news of her death. Tears streamed down your cheeks and fell heavy to the ground below.

Likewise she stood frozen in place just staring at your face. "Rin…" the sound of her name was heavy on your tongue but even heavier on your heart.

Slowly your hand lifted to reach for her so close you could almost feel the chill of her ghostly form.

Your body jolted as you were pulled away and forced into a run. The heat of the hand holding yours was so very unlike the chill of Rin's body.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Quentin gasped, panic dripping from every syllable.

"a long time ago." You whispered as you ran with your boyfriend, through the exit gate and far away from the phantom from your past.

Yui:

Yui was a tough nut to crack but when she finally opened up you found a sweet and very loving interior. She was everything you could want in a girlfriend. The others remarked on the relative ease with which you had gotten her to fall.

All of the other survivors took up a bet whether or not you could romance her before you had managed to get all the killers in a trial.

Turns out those betting on before were right on the money. At first you had thought it was fine to not have had to face all the creepy monsters this place had to offer. Turns out not knowing made things all that much harder, or rather, more awkward.

Staring down Philip Ojomo was surreal to say the least.

Even as transformed as he was there was no doubt about it. The tall tree looking monster was your old boyfriend. To be honest he seemed just as lost for what to do about the situation as you.

"Uh… hi Philip." You waved a little, shyly almost and took a step forward. He shifted his feet as if to take a step back but stopped himself. "It sure has been a while huh?"

Your break up had been amiable, he was leaving to start a new job and your work was calling for you to leave as well, far away from the town with the junkyard and bloody car crusher that he had been called to.

"May we talk?" The question was completely unorthodox, and probably not a good idea.

Sitting down to speak with a man meant to kill and sacrifice you to the Entity. But you asked him nonetheless.

To your surprise he did. He sat with you on the damp earth and you both spoke for a long time, until the exit gates opened and you had to leave.

He offered you his hand cordially, and you accepted it happily.

At long last you had managed to catch up and had learned about what happened to each other. His story saddened you but it was good to finally know.

When you told Yui about it she was more worried than you'd ever seen her outside the trials. She drilled you for all the details about what happened. Only stopping when you managed to asure her that you weren't hurt.

But then her face took on a look you had never seen before. She look uncertain and almost insecure.

"You aren't still love in love with him are you?"

The question left you floored.

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh. "No Yui I love you. My feelings for him have long since passed. I promise."

You kissed her hard and the tension melted from her shoulders as she kissed back.

"Good," she said when she pulled away, "because I don't plan on sharing you."

Felix:

"For fuck's sake! Chase someone else for once!" You shouted over your shoulder.

Ghostface apparently didn't care about doing anything for the sake of fuck because he didn't ,infact, stop chasing you.

You heard your name being shouted from the other side of the map. Felix was helping Meg off a hook. He was calling out to you. "Just a bit longer, we're almost done."

You nodded and pumped your legs harder. Hopping a pallet you laughed as Ghostface swore behind you. "Sorry Danny guess you just can't keep up…. Like always."

"Just you wait sweetheart. Once I get my hands on you..." He growled as he crushed the pallet with a few heavy stomps.

"I don't think I have much to be worried about." You laughed.

"Oh yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah. I mean if you're as bad at killing as you were in bed then I'm gonna get out of here scot free." You cackled.

"EXCUSE YOU!?" His mask may not have been able to change but the rest of his body said it all. He was both offended and pissed.

"You take that back this instant you know damn well that that isn't true I was always…" he was absolutely raving behind you. Going on and on about how he had been attentive and how he always made you cum and on and on.

The last generator popped and you wooped happily.

"Oh you little fucker." Danny shouted as you made for the gate. "That is what I was!" You called back.

"I will hook your ass don't think I won't!"

He never got the chance as you dashed past the escape gate and out into the field beyond to join your loving boyfriend. "You okay?" Felix asked, taking your hand as you both slowed, nearing the survivors' camp.

"Yes I'm okay. Are you okay? I know he got a few hits in during the match."

His smile was warm and reassuring. "Yes I'm okay. Cluadette had a good med kit."

You leaned up to peck his cheek. "Good." You walked with him hand in hand into the camp and forgot about anything that wasn't being in his arms.

303 notes · View notes

440mxs-wife · 3 years

Text

Eight Years

Pairing: Dean x Reader. Other Characters: Sam x Eileen, Jody x Benny (not a vampire), Meg (not a demon) x Castiel, Rowena x Gabriel, Donna x Doug, Charlie x Stevie.

Word Count: 4995 (whew!)

Warnings: Mutual Pining, a smidgen of angst, mostly fluffy though.

Prompt: “Life is like a box of chocolates.”

Summary: Reader goes to Kansas City for a ‘Girls Weekend’ with her friends, while the guys decide to have a weekend of their own in the bunker. But, the guys get bored and decide to join the girls, which has everyone paired up except for Dean and the Reader. Will true feelings finally come out, or will it be Friend-Zone City?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jeans. Flannel/Hoodie. T-Shirts. Shorts. Swimsuit. Boots, just in case. You ran through the packing list in your head to make sure you didn't forget anything. The bag for your toiletry items was under the sink, so you put your toothbrush and other bathroom stuff inside. The last bits you needed to pack were the book you were reading and your phone charger. Once they were in your bag, you zipped it and threw it over your shoulder as you exited your room.

Sam was sitting at the map table, reading a book when you dropped your bag onto its surface. "All packed and ready to go?" he asked.

"Yep. Kansas City's not that far away, should you guys need any help with anything. Plus, I'll be with the 'Ladies' Hunting Contingent', so you'd have plenty of back-up," you chuckled.

"Nah, we're going to take the weekend off too. Dean said no hunting this weekend, so he invited the guys to come here," Sam replied.

"Really?" you asked incredulously.

"S'all your fault, you started it. Donna will be with you, which leaves Doug with nothing to do. Dean told him he should come here and hang out. In fact, you and Doug will probably pass each other on the highway," he grinned.

"Well, whatever. Y'all better behave yourselves," you warned.

"I'm sure we'll behave ourselves about as much as you girls are going to," Sam smirked.

"Ha ha, very funny. So, are you gonna miss me?" you asked.

"Nope, it'll actually be quiet without your snoring. But I bet Dean will," Sam countered. He knew about your feelings towards Dean, and figured out that the current ran both ways. Sam was convinced his life would be even better if only you and Dean would get past your self-doubts.

"'Dean will' what, Sammy?" Dean inquired as he pulled up a chair to the table.

"You'll miss her this weekend while she's gone," Sam clarified.

Dean then noticed your packed bag on the table. "Oh, that's right, this is your, uh, 'Girls' Weekend' in Kansas City," he replied. "That should be fun, all of you chicks together," Dean remarked.

"Yeah," you answered. But you didn't exactly answer the question, Dean...."I should probably get going. Got a decent drive ahead of me," you mumbled as you reached out to pick up your bag again.

"Here, I've got it, let me help," Dean picked up your bag and threw it over his shoulder.

You started to follow Dean up the stairs to the garage, but Sam called you back. Dean kept walking, so you said you'd meet him in the garage.

"C'mere, kiddo," Sam said as he pulled you into a hug. "Of course I'm going to miss you this weekend. And just because Dean didn't say so doesn't mean he won't miss you too. Maybe you should tell him--," Sam started.

You interrupted, "Wow, look at the time, I gotta go." You moved towards the stairs then turned to face Sam. "I'll miss you guys too. Have fun, you deserve it. Hell, we all deserve it," you chuckled softly. "Bye, Sam," you called as you made your way up the stairs.

Dean was waiting by your car when you entered the garage. "I put your bag in the trunk, I hope that was where you wanted it," he informed you.

"Oh sure, no problem. You didn't have to carry it up here for me, I would've managed okay. But thank you, Dean," you remarked.

"S'no problem, what are best friends for?" he replied, bringing you in for a hug that seemed a little tighter than usual. He pulled back abruptly and nervously cleared his throat. "Anyway, you should--ah--you should probably get going. Got that drive ahead of you, all by yourself. Drive careful," Dean said with a smile.

"I will. Have a good weekend with the guys, Dean. See you soon," you murmured as you ducked into your car. You turned the key and brought to life the rumbling engine of your 1968 Chevy Nova. With a slight wave of your hand, you backed out of the garage and drove out of sight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You popped in an Aerosmith CD and cranked the volume as you tore down the highway. Dean certainly didn't approve of your decision to update the audio component for your classic car. But, driver picks the music, and you wanted more to choose from than the same 5 cassette tapes all the time.

Best friend, you muttered to yourself as you drove. After eight years, it's probably all I'll ever be to Dean. Even though he means more to me than I can ever put into words to tell him....

A pit stop at a Gas-n-Sip for fuel, snacks and a change in music to an 80s CD, and you were back on the road. After another three hours, you had reached your destination. It was an old ski lodge on the outskirts of the city that had been remodeled but without the ski lift. It had seven bedrooms and a wide open floor plan. The lodge came complete with a large kitchen, dining room and a common area with plenty of seating.

When you pulled up to the lodge, you saw Donna's truck, which brought you a little relief at not being the first one to arrive. She must have heard you drive in, because she came flying out of the front door over to your car.

Wrapping her arms around you, Donna nearly squealed with delight that you had finally arrived. "Oh, it's so good to see you!" she gushed. "I only got here about an hour ago, and I already picked out my room. Now that you're here, you get your pick!" she exclaimed.

You laughed as you retrieved your bag out of the trunk, linked arms with Donna then you both walked back into the lodge. She poured you a margarita as you unpacked your bag for the weekend. You sent Dean a text message to let him know you had arrived safely, then stowed your phone in your pocket.

By the time you came back out to the common area, Jody, Meg and Eileen had arrived. They gave you a hug in greeting, then went to stake their claims on the remaining rooms. Rowena and Charlie with Stevie rounded out the rest of the weekend's participants.

"Okay, everyone has a drink, right?" Donna asked. The ladies all nodded in agreement. "Good! Let our 'Girls Weekend' officially commence!" she declared. "Let's go 'round the room and give everyone an update. You know, say what or who we've been doing," Donna grinned mischievously.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the Bunker.....

Dean watched as you backed your car out of the bunker's garage, gave him a halfhearted wave, then drove off down the highway. He was mentally kicking himself for not giving you a better sendoff than a hug and a 'drive careful'.

The two of you were alone in the garage and he had you in his arms. It was a comforting feeling, like coming home, and he never wanted to let go. You idjit, he thought to himself. That would've been the perfect time to tell her how you feel....if only you hadn't chickened out. Dammit.

Shortly after you left, Doug arrived. He entered the bunker with Dean and noticed that Benny, Castiel and Gabriel had also made their appearances. Sam introduced Doug to the new arrivals then showed him to his room for the weekend. Once Doug had finished getting settled, he came out to the common area in time to hear Benny ask, "So what are y'all drinking?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the lodge.....

Most of the ladies had given their update on their activities over the past month, leaving just you and Donna to spill your secrets. Charlie and Stevie were working together at a tech firm, but not for much longer. Between them, they almost had enough money saved and/or investors to start their own consulting business.

Rowena and Gabriel were seeing each other off and on, both trying to stay out of trouble. Sam and Eileen were still going strong, texting each other, and meeting for dates whenever possible.

Jody and Benny had started dating, having been introduced by Dean. Benny moved to Sioux Falls and was hired on as a bartender at the local tavern, where he fit right in with the locals. He and Jody tried to see each other as often as possible, depending on their schedules.

Donna and Doug were back together, with their relationship picking up where it had left off. He had finally come to terms with the whole 'monsters are real' thing, and had even gone on a couple of simple cases with Donna.

Finally it was your turn. "Nothing much to tell, really," you shrugged.

"What about that guy you went out with a couple of weeks ago, what was his name?" Eileen asked.

"I think his name was 'Mr. Not Dean Winchester'," Meg snorted.

"Aren't they all named that?" Rowena chimed in.

To everyone's surprise, you chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that. Maybe I'm a sap for holding on these past eight years, but I can't help it. I love him," you replied softly.

"The heart wants what the heart wants, even if the head says something else," Jody interjected.

When Donna walked back into the room, you realized you didn't even notice she'd left. "So, I just got off the phone with Doug. The guys are bored, so they've decided to head up this way. I might have said they could stay here with us," she explained hesitantly.

The color drained from your face, because you knew what this meant. Everyone would be paired off, except you and Dean. You looked into your glass and drained what was left of your margarita. "I'll be right back, I need a refill," you remarked as you exited your chair. Every eye followed you as you left the room.

"Okay, girls. I think y'all know what we have to do about her and Dean," Donna whispered conspiratorially. Each woman nodded in return, signaling a readiness to do her part.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the Bunker....

Dean was sitting at the table, eating the last slice of a cherry pie you had made him yesterday. Damn, am I glad that woman can bake, he smiled to himself.

He thought back to the day you made him that pecan pie, when you had decided that a frozen crust wouldn't do. You probably didn't know, but Dean watched as you made your own crust. You had even incorporated some finely crushed pecans into it.

Dean followed your movements as you cut the butter in with the flour, then added the water and the rest of the ingredients. He was mesmerized as you worked everything together and rolled out the crust, singing to yourself. The entire time, you had this smile on your face, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen you so content.

Ever since the two of you met eight years ago, he'd always thought you were beautiful. Not just on the outside, but to him, your beauty radiated from within. You showed it in how you made sure that everyone's needs were met, usually before or instead of your own. It was in the way you interacted with people, especially children, and in how they responded to you.

Even though he'd sometimes flirt with you, often just to see you blush, there was truth behind his words. You'd captured his heart all those years ago. Now, if only he'd had the strength or courage to tell you....

Sam poked his head into the kitchen to see his brother taking his dessert plate to the sink to rinse it. "Hey, Dean? Doug was just talking to Donna on the phone, and he came up with the perfect idea. You know, something other than watching movies and drinking," Sam explained.

"Oh, but Sammy, movies and drinking does sound like a good idea," Dean retorted sarcastically.

"I think you'll like this idea better, though," Sam persisted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine," he huffed. "What is this 'perfect idea'?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the road:

The girls sent you into town to pick up some extra supplies, since the guys would be joining you tomorrow at the lodge. You still weren't sure that this was a good idea, but if the girls wanted to see their guys, you weren't going to stand in anyone's way.

You stopped at the meat counter for some burgers, hot dogs and thick-cut bacon. After grabbing a couple of onions, you headed for the canned goods to pick up some baked beans. Your recipe called for the addition of bacon and onions, and you knew at least Dean wouldn't mind.

Once you picked up some cold cuts, you wandered over to the snack aisle for potato chips. When you saw the graham crackers, you remembered that there was a fire pit outside. S'mores would be awesome, you thought with a smile. So, you added the chocolate bars and marshmallows to your cart.

At the lodge:

"Ladies, I checked the weather report, and tomorrow's going to be a perfect day to head out to the lake and go swimming," Charlie announced.

"You sure, hun?" Stevie asked.

"Of course I am, babe. Can't wait to see you all smokin' hot in that red bikini I know you packed," Charlie winked, causing Stevie's cheeks to get warm.

Jody wandered in to the common area, eyes glued to her phone. "Okay, I texted Benny for him to make sure everyone has swimming trunks packed," she remarked.

At that moment, you stepped through the kitchen door with grocery bags in your hands. "A little help, please?" you called. Everyone pitched in to transport the supplies from your car to the kitchen, then helped put everything away.

"Marshmallows, graham crackers--wait, are we making S'mores?!?" Donna squealed.

You nodded. "There are benches around a fire pit out there, might as well put it to good use. I also grabbed a couple of rotisserie chickens, some noodles and sauce for Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo." Your announcement was met with a chorus of appreciative groans from your friends.

"It's a wonder those boys haven't gained, like, a million pounds, if this is how you cook for them," Meg chimed in. "Especially with as many pies as you bake for Dean," she added.

"They work it off by chasing after or running away from monsters," you chuckled.

"Or through other activities," Eileen signed. You translated for the group and joined in the raucous laughter that ensued.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the Bunker, Next Morning:

"Rise and shine, Sammy! C'mon everybody!" Dean belted out as he knocked on Sam's and all the other doors. Dean had packed the night before, because he didn't want to waste any time in the morning. He poured some coffee into his travel mug and made his way to the bunker garage.

Some time later, they stopped at the gas station on the way out of town for fuel and snacks, then it was back on the road. Doug, Benny and Sam went back to sleep in the car, leaving Dean time to think. He knew that with his friends and brother pairing off with their girls, that was going to leave the two of you together.

Questions raced through his mind about whether or not he should confess his feelings for you. So much could go wrong that he wasn't sure if he should mention anything to you. Sam stirred in the passenger seat next to him.

"So, are you going to tell her?" Sam asked.

"Tell who, what, Sam?" Dean countered.

"You know what, and you know who. Are you going to tell your best friend that you are in love with her," Sam clarified.

"I've been asking myself that same question for the past 50 miles. So many 'what-ifs'. What if she doesn't feel the same is a BIG one. What if we get together then fall apart six months from now? What if something happens on a hunt and she get hurt, or worse? What if--" he stopped.

"Dean, you can't do that to yourself. That stuff could happen whether you confess or not, no one knows the future. You have to take life as it comes at you," Sam remarked.

"Life is like a box of chocolates, brother," Benny drawled from the back seat. "You never know what you're gonna get or what the future holds. At least with her, though, you know you've got a good woman who loves you."

"Dude, did you seriously just 'Forrest Gump' me in the middle of my love crisis?" Dean asked, which drew everyone's laughter. Even Dean laughed before turning serious again. "You really think she loves me?"

"Oh, ya, Benny's right, Dean. Anybody can tell by looking that she loves you," chimed in Doug. "I've seen the way she smiles whenever you enter a room, or how she blushes whenever you 'accidentally' brush her hand," he replied.

"Huh. I never noticed that. Guess I'd better do something about it, then," Dean remarked as he continued down the road to the lodge. A smile tugged at his lips as a plan formed in his mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the lodge:

You were the first one out of bed in the morning, which meant you got first dibs on the hot water for a shower. On your supply run yesterday, you'd picked up bagels, cream cheese, muffins and some croissants for breakfast. A pot of coffee was started, and you filled a teapot with water for those not wanting coffee. You set the breakfast table with the baked goods, along with plates, cups and silverware.

At the counter, you started making the food for the picnic lunch by the lake with the guys. There were some sandwiches with ham, some with turkey and some with both. You even made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, just in case.

By the time the coffee had finished brewing, you had finished making the sandwiches. You put them in the fridge to go into the cooler later, and poured a cup of coffee. You tinkered with it until it tasted the way you wanted, then sat back in your chair to relax.

As you sipped your coffee, your thoughts wandered to the elder Winchester. Dean and the other guys were due to arrive any time, which excited and frightened you at the same time. You were excited to spend time with your best friend. At the same time, you were scared as hell that he would see past that, right through to where you hid your feelings for him. But then you thought, what if I didn't hide them this time?

Unfortunately, you didn't get a chance to answer yourself, because you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine. Coffee cup still in hand, you rushed to the front door to greet the boys. You opened the door and leaned against the door frame as you watched the guys pile out of the Impala. You put your finger to your lips to indicate that everyone else was still sleeping.

Dean was the first to reach the front door. "Morning, sweetheart," he greeted you with that sexy grin of his.

"Morning, Dean," you replied quietly, returning his smile. "Come on in, but please keep the noise down. Everyone but me is still sleeping," you said. "If you guys are hungry, there's breakfast stuff on the table, help yourself."

Suddenly, you felt someone take hold of your free hand as you walked to the kitchen. You turned and saw that it was Dean, which caused a warmth to bloom in your cheeks. Instead of letting go, your smile grew and you adjusted your hand so your fingers were laced with each other.

"Where can we put our bags?" Sam asked.

"For now, just leave them by the patio doors. Should be out of the way enough until you can each locate your girlfriend's room," you teased.

Dean leaned in close to your ear. "So, where does that leave me?" he rumbled, his breath hot against your skin.

"Um, well, I can show you to my room if you want to store your bag in there for now," you replied. "There's only the one bed, though, so....," you murmured.

"I'm okay with sharing....as long as you're sure you're okay with it, darlin'" he said smoothly.

You could only nod, because the power of speech momentarily eluded you in that exact moment. A shake of your head seemed to reboot your brain and return your voice. "My room is at the end of the hall, to the right, if you want to put your stuff away," you remarked.

Dean squeezed your hand before letting go and headed for your room. You quickly ducked into the bathroom to try and gather your wits about you. "Get it together," you hissed, pointing at your reflection. After splashing some cold water on your face, you went back out to join the others.

One by one, the girls trickled into the kitchen for coffee and whatever else for breakfast. Castiel and Gabriel had recently appeared and were saying hello to their girlfriends. Dean had returned as well, and took your chair just before you could sit down. Before you could walk away, he grabbed you around the waist and sat you down in his lap. "Comfy?" he asked with a smirk.

"So far, so good, Winchester," you countered with a wry grin. He wrapped one arm around your waist and hooked the other across your lap then gave you a squeeze in response. From the time you left the bunker to when the guys arrived, something seemed to have changed with Dean. You decided to go with the flow and see where it would lead.

In between bites of bagel, you explained the plans for the day. "We're going swimming at the lake, then we have stuff for a picnic lunch, with burgers, beans and hotdogs for dinner." Dean's eyes lit up at the mention of burgers. "And, since we have a fire pit, I got the stuff to make S'mores!" you added enthusiastically.

"You know, Dean is somewhat of an expert at roasting marshmallows," Sam threw in slyly.

"You are?" you asked as you gazed into his perfect forest green orbs.

"Oh yeah, sweetheart. I have it down to a science now," he boasted.

"This I've got to see," Meg replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day could not have been more perfect for swimming and a picnic at the lake. You chose to stay on shore, relaxing with your book. Most of your reading is lore for whatever case you're working, so time spent reading for fun was golden. Every once in a while, your eyes would drift over to your friends, who were laughing and having the best time together.

A soft smile crept across your lips at seeing everyone so happy. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn't hear Dean sneak up behind you. He leaned close to your ear. "You have a lovely smile. I've always thought so," he whispered.

You gasped in surprise at the proximity of his voice. "Thank you," you whispered back as your smile returned.

Dean sat down, cross-legged, on the blanket in front of you, while your eyes were still on your book. He gently pried the book from your hands and replaced your bookmark. Then he hooked his finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards to gaze into your eyes. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you," he started.

"Oh? What's that?" you asked, your voice wavering a bit as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

He nervously cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, you see, I--" he started.

"Hey you two, we're starving for some burgers and hot dogs! Can we please head back to the lodge to get cleaned up?" Meg broke in.

You put your hand up. "Wait a minute. Meg, can you guys give us a minute?" you implored. She shrugged and started walking back to the car. "What were you saying, Dean?" you asked.

Dean shook his head. "S'okay, we probably should head back anyway," he mumbled as he picked up the cooler.

Inside you were screaming at Meg for interrupting your conversation with Dean. You made a promise that if you and Dean were alone again, you'd ask him to finish his thought.

Dinner was a rousing success, with the juicy burgers and hot dogs, plus your kicked-up baked beans. As Dean was grilling the food, he was talking with the guys and laughing at their jokes. On the outside, he looked like he was having fun, but you were dismayed to notice that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

After dinner was done, Benny and some of the others went out to start the campfire and to make sure they had a good seat. Dean stayed behind to help you with the dishes, even though you told him he didn't have to, since he cooked. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, even though the events of earlier were still on your mind.

Several rounds of S'mores later, everyone started to head off to bed, one couple at a time, leaving you and Dean alone again. There were still some marshmallows in the bag, so you grabbed a couple and held them up for Dean. "Okay, Winchester. Time to show me your marshmallow roasting secrets," you grinned.

Dean grinned back as he plucked them from your fingers and skewered them on the stick. "Now, if you're not careful, these will flame up and you're left with a blackened, charcoal mess," he began. He walked around the fire pit, trying to find the best heat source for the marshmallows. Once he found one, he moved so he was sitting on the other side of you on the bench. "The trick is to use the embers. That's where it's hottest, but you're less likely to 'flame out', as it were," he explained.

You watched his movements, completely entranced by his concentration and softness in his voice as he continued. "You kinda have to keep turning it, so it gets golden brown, but not torched." From the side, you could see a reflection of the flames, dancing in his eyes. "A few more turns, and voilà. The perfectly cooked marshmallow," he remarked.

Dean pulled the stick from the fire and carefully slid the marshmallow off of the end. You tried to take it from his fingers. "Ah ah ah, open up, sweetheart," he smirked. You did as he asked and he gently placed the marshmallow on your tongue. A groan of appreciation escaped your lips, as you broke the delicate crust that gave way to a melted but not molten center.

"Perfect," you whispered.

He slid the other marshmallow off the end of the stick and popped it in his mouth. A little of the melted center somehow ended up on the corner of his mouth. "Oh, wait a second, you've got some--um--some marshmallow on your--here, let me," you stammered.

Without thinking, you dove in and meshed your lips with his on the spot where you'd seen the marshmallow. When it seemed he didn't respond, you leaned back and broke the kiss. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--I should go," you stood up from the bench to head back into the house.

Dean grabbed hold of your wrist to stop you from leaving. "Wait, I need to tell you something," he pleaded.

"No, it's all right, Dean. I get it, I made a mistake. You don't feel the same, and that's okay. Just please let me go inside," you whispered, tears threatening to fall.

"Aw, to hell with this," he growled as he closed the distance between you until you were mere inches apart. "I'm gonna finish what I started to say earlier. Then if you still want to run back inside, I won't stop you. Okay?" he asked sternly.

You nodded slowly. "Okay," he said more softly as he brushed the back of his knuckles on your cheek. "You and I have been best friends for the past eight years. Somewhere along the way, things between us changed. For me, anyway. I can't believe it's taken this long to tell you, but sweetheart? I am in love with you," he declared.

Tears of happiness streamed down your cheeks. "I've waited so long to hear those words. Wasn't sure I ever would, but I never gave up hope. I love you, Dean Winchester. Always have, always will," you replied. You placed one hand alongside his face, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Dean gently brushed your tears away with his thumbs. Then he slipped his hand around to cradle you behind your head and inched forward until your lips met yet again. This kiss was different, because you felt the depth of his emotions contained within it. The friendship between you, his fear of your rejection at the offer of his love. And finally, his acceptance of your love for him.

When the kiss was broken, you pulled back a little from each other enough to rest your foreheads together. "I love you so much, baby," Dean whispered.

"I love you too, Dean. C'mon, let's head inside to my--our--nice and cozy room," you suggested.

"Right by your side, sweetheart. Forever and always," Dean added. He took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers, then you both walked back into the lodge.

Donna and Doug were in the kitchen with Jody and Benny, getting some water. "Goodnight, all," you and Dean called over your shoulders.

Jody smirked at Donna and held out her hand, into which Donna slapped a $10 bill. Donna rolled her eyes and said, "Shut up", which caused Jody to break out into laughter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @deanwanddamons @yourelivingwrong @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @supernatural-jackles @babygurltt @ejlovespie @flamencodiva @supernatural-love14

#deanwanddamons2kcelebration #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural

101 notes · View notes

trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more.

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking.

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something.

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine.

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight.

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation.

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life.

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera.

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in.

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller.

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying.

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe.

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say.

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves.

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully.

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room.

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him.

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that.

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet.

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending.

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk.

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then.

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk,

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was.

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue.

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published.

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house.

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced.

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch.

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door.

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all.

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment.

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave.

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there.

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.”

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked.

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone.

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall.

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth.

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account.

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway.

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate.

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before.

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins.

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly.

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down.

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed,

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.”

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed.

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you,

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit.

“Dick.”

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway,

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.”

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one.

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week.

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass.

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something.

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved.

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump.

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year.

Disappointment.

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come.

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you.

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.”

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his.

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no.

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?”

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears.

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out.

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink.

That was the day he began writing his first novel.

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket.

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely.

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam.

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new.

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding.

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him,

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head.

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that.

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile.

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand.

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal.

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine.

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.”

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side.

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive?

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house.

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing.

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair.

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it.

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh.

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed.

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh.

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you.

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning.

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs.

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs.

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even.

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you.

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking.

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard.

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him.

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared.

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him.

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck.

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee.

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip.

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts.

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement.

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting.

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you.

“Ransom-”

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further.

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like.

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release.

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs.

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body.

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum.

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago.

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face.

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans

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beck-a-leck · 3 years

Note

since you did kindly offer... arthur frey no. 12 (please)

Welcome back Nonny! As you asked, here's some in-game canon Frey/Arthur Smooches!

Send me a Smooch Prompt and some characters and half all your self-indulgent wishes come true!

#12 Sneaking away to a hidden place for a secretive kiss

The summer sun was out in all its glory and strength for the first day of the season, and the residents of Selphia were more than happy to flock to their lake to spend a day relaxing and playing and cooling off with the first swim of the season.

The young adults in town had set up camp about halfway down the shore, spreading out a motley collection of blankets and towels and a couple large umbrellas to offer a bit of shade. They were close enough to the lake to made a quick run to the water for a dip to cool down, but far enough that even the rowdiest splash fight wouldn’t wet their belongings. For a while, they had been divided, the boys and the girls, but as the day crept on their groups mixed more and they shared snacks and drinks and sunscreen and towels got hopelessly mixed up.

Arthur sat with Forte and Clorica in the shade of an umbrella, watching the game of chicken that was taking place in the lake. They were the only three sitting out. Forte still didn’t swim very well and refused to go in deeper than waist-deep. Arthur needed to take a break from the sun, he burned far too easily, despite the copious amounts of sunscreen applied, and his shoulders were already starting to look a little pink. Clorica was fast asleep with her head resting in Forte’s lap.

There was a chorus of shouts and giggles as men picked their battle partner and hoisted her up on their shoulders. Arthur scanned the pairs with amusement. Kiel and Amber had teamed up – the smallest girl on the thinnest shoulders, he didn’t think they would last long, but he knew Amber could and would employ her wings if it gave them an advantage. Xaio Pai was trying to clamber onto Vishnal’s shoulders with as much grace as she could manage, which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Vishnal got a foot in the face a couple times before she settled unsteadily. Doug and Dolce were snapping at each other over the best strategy for winning chicken, and Pico wasn’t helping cement their team-up as she was buzzing around the two of them probably whispering threats to poor Doug or teasing poor Dolce – most likely both. Dylas and Margaret had partnered, the two of them looking rather focused as they prepared for battle and sized up their only real opponents, Frey and Leon.

Arthur’s heart gave a funny lurch was he watch Leon lift Frey up onto his shoulders and he laughed and pulled gently at his ears. It was just a game. The two of them teaming up for chicken didn’t mean anything. Frey was dating Arthur, and quite happily so. She and Leon were friends, but really that was in between them.

Forte nudged Arthur with her shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to join in?”

He laughed, “No, I think if the two of us paired up we would be the shortest-lived team.”

Forte nodded and laughed in agreement. “Probably true. Those weak things you call shoulders wouldn’t hold me for very long.”

“And it’s a little too deep for you.”

Forte nodded, still smiling as the competitors squared up. “Wanna take bets though? Bet Vishnal and Xaio Pai don’t last five seconds.”

“There’s no contest there.” Arthur scanned the others again. “Hmmm last groups will probably be Dylas and Meg, and Leon and Frey.”

“I don’t know, I think Amber and Kiel might have some tricks up their sleeves. They might make it to the final two.”

The Chicken Fight began. As predicted, Xaio Pai tumbled off Vishnal’s shoulders before she really even had a chance to try and shove anyone else. Doug and Dolce didn’t last much longer, though Arthur suspected there might have been some Pico-interference in that regard. The other three couples grappled for a bit, and Amber and Kiel put up a rather good fight, but in the end, they were upended and eliminated from the competition. The final two couples were left, Dylas and Leon circled each other, saying nothing, while the girls on their shoulders traded taunts. Their former competitors were watching, egging on whoever they decided was more worthy of a win. Then with a battle cry, they charged at each other, locking into a grapple as both the boys and the girls tried their best to send the other topping into the water. The fighting may have gotten a little dirty under the water, Arthur was certain Leon and Dylas were kicking each other, but as neither of them were complaining, nobody was going to call foul play.

Then with a yell and a surge of power, Frey gut the upper hand on Meg and sent the elf tumbling off Dylas’ back and into the water with a splash. The winners hooted and howled in victory to a chorus of cheers or jeers. Then with a grin, Leon let go of Frey’s legs and she let herself fall off his back and into the water. Leon scooped Frey from the water, loudly declaring them the champions, while she laughed, and then, in true Leon fashion he unceremoniously threw the Princess back into the water. Frey reemerged laughing and wiping hair and water from her eyes. She playfully shoved the guardian, making half an effort to dunk the much taller man beneath the water. When he didn’t budge, the other men in the water saw fit to ‘avenge’ their princess and they piled onto Leon. A scuffle broke out and a lone figure quickly retreated, stumbling on laughter-shaken legs into shallower water as she wrung out her long green hair.

The men’s wrestling match continued as the women decided it was time to take a break and get a drink or have a snack. They migrated back to the blankets and settled in the sun or under the shade of the umbrellas.

Frey plopped down right next to Arthur, pressing her cool, wet body against him. She pecked him on the cheek. “Enjoying the shade?”

“Actually, it’s quite lovely.”

“Hmm,” she poked his shoulder, watching a white mark appear and then fade quickly. “You are looking a little pink. Let me put more sunscreen on your back.”

She turned to dig through the collection of bags and supplies and said with a small huff, sitting back on her heels, “Huh, it looks like we’ve used up what we brought.” She grinned at Arthur. “I do have more back at the castle. Come with me.”

Arthur opened his mouth to inform her that actually he had a bottle in his bag, but Frey was on the move before he could get a word out.

She took his hands and pulled him to his feet. They both stepped into their sandals and promised the others that they would be back soon, they just needed more sunscreen. Then they were hurrying away from the lake, back into town, and towards the castle. While most of the townsfolk were at the lake today, not everyone was, and Frey looked distinctly disappointed each time they rounded a corner and saw someone outside enjoying the beautiful summer day.

They did end up all the way back at the castle, slipping through the door into Frey’s quarters and finding it blessedly empty.

“Finally,” she sighed, spinning around and pulling Arthur close. “I love Beach Day, but it gives us so little time to spend together.” Frey leaned in close and brushed her lips against Arthur’s once, then twice before stepping back a little.

Completely unnecessarily, Arthur said, “Something tells me you didn’t actually drag me back here for sunscreen.”

Frey grinned impishly. “I mean, you’re inside, technically you’re protected from the sun.”

“Ah, well my complexion thanks you then, darling.” Arthur put his hands on Frey’s waist and pulled her close to him. She twined her arms around his shoulders as he leaned in for another kiss. Her bare skin was warm under his hands, and smooth, though he felt goosebumps erupt from where his fingers grazed. Frey pressed against him; her still damp swimsuit was cool against his flush skin.

They broke apart just for a moment to breathe, and Frey whispered, “I thought you would prefer this to me throwing myself at you on the beach. I know how much you value your privacy.”

Arthur chuckled. The whole town knew they were dating, but sometimes, being a Prince, there were certain rules of conduct he was expected to follow. And making out in public was on the no-no list. In private, though, hidden away from prying eyes…

He bowed his head to plant a kiss on Frey’s neck before whispering in her ear, “Well, we all know how much you love a public spectacle.”

He could feel Frey grinning before she said, “Let’s save that for the firefly festival, shall we?Really blow this town away.”

She hated public spectacles almost as much as Arthur did.

He pressed another kiss to her lips. “As you wish, darling.”

#replies #anonymous #becky writes things #rune factory 4 #rf4 #rune factory #smooch prompt #if you squint maybe there's a little crack shipping with the chicken team dynamics. or maybe I was just making pairs for funsies

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.17

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2294

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean’s been put on a stretcher, he still has a pulse and they are driving him to the nearest hospital while Y/N has to stay behind.

She knows that Dean’s in good hands, knows that he’s being taken care of but still, she wanted to go with him. Benny held her back, though.

“Hey, Y/N, watch this,” Benny winks at her as he slaps some handcuffs on Chuck's wrist and forces him to limp out of the studio on one leg.

Benny leans closer to her in passing, winks at her another time before he says, “The press has been informed and they’re waiting outside. Bet he likes that, huh?”

She follows them out, but steers clear of the press. One police officer is accompanying her to a vehicle, and has to go into the next police station to give her statement.

They release her after a couple of hours because she said that everything’s in the cabin but only Dean knew where it was and he has all the evidence on his phone and on his laptop. They would have to wait until Dean wakes up, and she hopes he does.

Benny had been with her the whole time, so at least she didn’t have to face the interrogation alone. It’s weird that Dean’s friends all care more about her than her own friend or husband ever did. Benny has also told her that they took Dean into surgery and he later also told her that he’s out but he’s not stable and they don’t know if he’ll survive.

She walks out of the police station ahead of Benny, and then it suddenly hits her. It hits her that she’s all alone. She doesn’t know where to go. Doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have money or a phone on her. Her home is some odd hundred miles away, too. She wraps her arms around herself, wondering what she should do.

“I’ve arranged a hotel bed for you. It’s close to the hospital. And I got Cas to drive Dean’s car out here, so you can take him home when he can be released.”

“You’re very optimistic,”

“If you’ve been through what we’ve been through, hope is all you have and nobody can take that away from you.”

Y/N cries without meaning to and Benny takes her into his arms. “Hey, he’ll wake up, alright? Dean’s a fighter. Always have been. And really, it’s not much that I can do for you, but I hope it’s enough.”

Brushing her tears away from her face, she looks up at Benny, “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Oh, I do,” Benny chuckles, “Dean saved me more times than I can count. One time he got shot because of me. So yeah, that’s the least I can do for him.”

“Thanks.” She says again, doesn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” He holds out his hand, brushes a tear away with the pad of his thumb, “I can drop you off at the hospital if you want?”

“Yeah,” She smiles then, “I’d like that.”

The woman at the front desk wouldn’t let her go in to see Dean unless she can prove that she’s a family member. And she has no backup either because Benny’s needed back at the police station. He just dropped her off with the name of the hotel, and slips her two fifty dollar bills to tie her over until Cas gets here.

But then she remembers. She remembers that she still has the ID in her pocket.

She takes it out, slams it on the table, “Here, I’m his wife. So please, can you tell me where my husband is?”

Y/N runs, runs as fast as her feet would take her, got shouted at too, because apparently you aren’t supposed to run in here. She just really doesn’t care. She finds his room, knocks at the door, but there’s no answer. Her hand twists the doorknob, opens it hesitantly. She’s nervous as hell.

The room is lit in a dim light, he’s alone because the other bed is empty. She hears machines beeping but that’s not the thing that makes her heart stop beating. It’s the sight of Dean who’s laying there, a tube in his mouth, and there’s a ventilator that pumps air into his lungs. His chest moves up and down.

Y/N takes a seat on the chair next to Dean’s bed. He looks so fragile. She absolutely hates how it physically hurts her to see him like this.

Taking his hand in hers, she squeezes it before she lays her forehead onto his arm. “I’m here,” She whispers, and she’s trying not to cry. Tries to be strong because he would want her to be strong, “Come back to me, do you hear me, Dean?” She pauses, takes her time to breathe like he taught her to, “I don’t know what to do without you, so you have to wake up, okay? Wake up and help guide me.”

She takes his hand in hers, rubs her fingers along his, feels the roughness of his palms. She kisses his knuckles, “Chuck’s in custody. Benny said he’ll most likely never get out again. I’m sorry about what happened, okay? And I know that you’ll be angry at me if I tell you that I’m sorry. I want you to come back and scold at me, okay?”

A nurse stands in the doorway, “Mrs. Winchester, I’m sorry but you have to leave. You can come again in,” The nurse pauses to look at her watch, “Four hours.”

“Sure,” She says, “I just—“

It’s like the nurse knows that Y/N needs a couple more minutes because she nods at Y/N and walks out. She’s sure that the nurse will come back soon.

“You know,” She whispers, “I know why you were looking at me the whole time. It’s me you wanted to see, right?” Her voice gets shaky again, “You wanted me to be the last thing you see.”

She sniffs, brushes at her eyes and nose, “Come back, Dean, you promised. You’re going to take me out, remember? I want that. I want all of it. I never said it, because I was confused about my feelings, but I love you, Dean. I really do. I’m the happiest when I’m with you.”

When the nurse shows up the second time, Y/N gets up and looks at him again. Dean’s not here, he’s still far away. She places a kiss onto his forehead before she slips out of the room.

Y/N takes a taxi to the nearest store that’s still open to buy essentials. She needs tampons, toothbrush and toothpaste, and water. Maybe a chocolate bar. And it should be dark because it should calm her down.

The taxi driver saw the state she’s in, and decided to stay and wait for her to take her to the hotel safely.

When she steps into her hotel room, she finds a couple of gray and black shirts, POLICE DEPARTMENT written over it. And there’s a note.

Thought you might need a change of clothes. Sorry they didn’t have pants in your size. - Benny

After she takes a shower, she gets into bed but sleep is a thing that never came.

***

Y/N told the hotel to wake her up on time to be at Dean’s side as soon as she can. She didn’t really have to because she’s been awake all night, zapping through TV channels. Chuck is the breaking news on every one of them.

When she arrives at hospital, she sees Cas waiting in the reception area and runs to greet him.

He takes her into his arms, rubs a hand over her back, “I’m sorry,” Cas says and he sits down, pulling her down with him, “Is there anything you need?”

“The police need Dean’s laptop, and I’ll probably need new clothes soon,” She says with a chuckle.

“Bobby went to the cabin last night. He’ll bring it here,” Cas says and then he smiles, “And we’ll go shopping as soon as Dean wakes up.”

Cas is so optimistic, too. It blows her mind. It’s as if they don’t accept anything else than Dean waking up and coming around again.

“Yeah,” She smirks, “Have you been to see him?”

“No, only family allowed and they said that he’s having a check up. Apparently he started to breath on his own about five minutes before I arrived here. Everyone was in a rush. I don’t know what’s going on now.”

“I’ll go ask,” She says, and walks over to the desk.

After a while she sits back next to Cas and starts to cry.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Cas asks, pulls her into an embrace.

She cries but she’s smiling at him, “They said he’s awake.”

“Oh, thank god,” Cas places a hand on her shoulder, “See? Everything’s going to be okay,”

It’s another agonizing thirty minutes until the nurse who’s working the front desk walks towards them.

“Mrs. Winchester?”

Y/N looks up from a magazine she tried to read but didn’t get anything into her head anyway, “Yes?”

Cas’ eyes widen but she ignores him, ignores the grin on his face.

“You can go see him now,”

“Thanks,” She says and puts the magazine away. She takes a look at Cas.

“It’s okay, you’re his wife, you go first,” He winks, too.

She nods at Cas, and makes her way to Dean’s room. While she walks along the corridor, her heart thumps ridiculously fast in her chest.

The door stands ajar so she gets in.

Dean turns his head towards her, when he hears her. He flinches a little before his face turns bright. The crinkles start to crease around his eyes.

Y/N sits down, and bites back her tears. Fails, because one tear makes an escape and rolls down her cheek.

“Hey,” Dean chokes out. His voice is hoarse and she can tell that it hurts to speak from the way he flinches, “You okay?”

At that, she cries some more. How can he be the one that almost died and still asks her if she’s okay?

She nods. Because she is. She is, because he came back.

He brings his hand to her face, brushes at her tears, “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Y/N has to chuckle at that, “I’m a mess.”

“You’re a hot mess,” He says and has to cough because he wanted to laugh.

“You’re here,” She stands up, and leans over a little, trails her fingers over his face, and feels the prickly stubble, “I thought I lost you.”

She kisses him then, first his cheek, his nose and his forehead. Dean leans towards her kisses, he grins at her affection, clears his throat and pushes the words off his tongue, “I would never leave you like that.”

“I’m sorry,” She says as she sits back down, “I didn’t know that Meg would betray me like that.”

Dean listens, he doesn’t say anything because it hurts, she knows. It’s enough that he listens. She needs to get it off her chest.

“I’m sorry that you got shot. If it helps, I shot Chuck.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Right over his kneecap. Because I wanted him to live and rot in jail.”

He grins and then he speaks, even though it hurts him, “That’s my girl. And where did you aim?”

“His kneecap?” She shrugs.

Dean raises his eyebrows again, frowns a little, too.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, “Yeah, alright, I aimed at his crotch.”

He tries his best not to laugh, the vein on his forehead showing.

“What happened?” He asks after a long while and he holds her hand, squeezes it.

“Chuck promised Meg a million dollar. And she betrayed me by shooting you. Chuck shot her right in her face. He wanted to blame it on Meg. That she tried to kill me and to reach me she had to kill you too. Chuck wanted to play the hero, coming to our rescue but it would have been too late. Benny and the police showed up right after I shot Chuck. I was about to shoot again.”

“Benny looked after you?”

She nods, “He did.”

“Good. Cas?” Dean tries to keep his sentences short.

“Cas drove here with your car.”

“Oh no,”

“He’ll take back your motorcycle.”

“Oh no,”

She chuckles.

“Right, Cas’ right outside but you need to rest. We’ll go clothes shopping and we’ll be back.” She stands up and kisses his forehead.

When she’s about to turn to go, Dean pulls her back by her arm so hard he makes her stumble and fall back, landing half on top of him. He flinches but composes himself. For someone who almost died, he still has so much strength.

Dean doesn’t say anything, he just looks at her and then he kisses her bruisingly hard. When they part he looks at her again, “I saw you. I only saw you.” He says and she knows what he means. She nods with tears in her eyes, sees him smiling, “I love you, you know?”

She nods again, smiles, too, “I know. I love you too.” He kisses her again and then she gets off him. Dean’s eyes are wary, he’s visibly tired.

“Sleep, I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t flirt with Cas.”

She snorts at that, “I won’t.”

“You’ll be back when I wake up?” His lids are heavy, they’re almost closing.

“I’ll be right here. You won’t get rid of me so easily.” She smiles from the door.

“Promise?” His words are slurring.

“Cross my heart,” She says before she slips out of the room.

CH.18

@dean-winchesters-bacon @waywardbaby @flamencodiva @maddiepants @notyourtypicalrose @satans-0-spawn @foxyjwls007 @cosicas-cuquis @destielhoneybee @musicalmuffindog1410 @adoptdontshoppets @mariekoukie6661 @4fareader @deansyahtzee @onethirstyunicorn @deans-baby-momma @team-free-will-you-idjiot @sadbitch89 @becs-bunker @weepingwillowphoenix @deanwanddamons @miraclesoflove @atc74 @michellethetvaddict @traceyaudette @olichat @thevelvetseries @laphirablack @deansenwackles @winchesterxfamilybusiness @akshi8278 @jensengirl83 @squirrelnotsam @whatareyousearchingfordean @janicho88 @beautifulbowleggedangel @mylovelydame21 @gabavaldman @invisiblexnobodyximportant @vicmc624 @starryeyeseunbyul @parinarain @busy-bee-angel-misska @pansexualgrapes @addbibliophile @cookiechipdough @fandoms-fiend @coldmuffinbanditshoe @stoneyggirl @rvgrsbrns

#cross my heart #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nahtalie writes

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

The hand around Nea's neck tightened, words choking up and dying inside her throat. Eyes that used to be blue now glinted red in the dim atmosphere of her kitchen, illuminated only by the light coming from the setting sun. No mercy or compassion could be found in those eyes, just a deep-seated hatred that scared her down to her very core.

"I think that's enough of your inane babbling, Nea." Dwight's voice was a purr, low and dangerous, filled with thinly veiled intent. She still manages enough spite to glare back at him.

"Now, now darling, no need to be like that." Dwight clicks his tongue like a disapproving parent. "None of this would've happened if you'd kept your dirty little mouth shut instead of talking shit about MY BROTHER."

The slap comes as a surprise to her, a second going by before the pain finally hits. She tastes something coppery and metallic at the back of her throat and realizes she has bitten her tongue. His hand around her neck has relaxed just enough for her to speak again so she does.

"It's not shit if it's the truth, Dweet." She sneers, eyes hard and flinty with anger. “Your beaner of a brother is a filthy slut who likes to suck PsychoMyers dick - Ack!"

"Shut. Up." Dwight watches her choke on her breath as his hand tightens once again. He's about done bothering with this bitch, and if he wastes any more time he was going to be late for dinner. And while mom could understand murder quite easily, being on time for dinner was a mandatory rule.

Without letting go of his holds, he turns to glance at the boy sitting on a stool by the kitchen island, watching him with an enraptured expression. There are two points of red high on his cheeks, and the hunger in his eyes sends a tentative shot of arousal through Dwight's spine.

"David, the bleach if you will?" The boy shook his head like a dog would before opening the cap of the gallon next to him and handing it over to Dwight. "Thank you."

David only offers him a shaky nod, his gaze shifting briefly to what Dwight thinks might be his lips before returning them to his face. It's a little funny how out of everything, this is what gets to David.

Turning back to Nea, Dwight doesn't even bother being flashy or dramatic. He forces her jaw open and pours the bleach, watching her choke on it. It burns her eyes, her throat, and the stench is absolutely disgusting but he doesn't stop until the gallon is half-empty and Nea Karlsson lies limp in his hold.

------

After the party, when he had called Nea out on her bullshit in front of everyone and promptly vomited on her expensive Adidas sneakers, he had assumed he wouldn't ever hear about the cheerleader clique again. Had even been fine with that. David was with him now, and he would always have Danny in his corner. He could let Nea think she had won, just this once.

Thing was, bitches never quite learn how to keep their mouths shut.

Dwight had gone to her house planning to fake an apology, David in tow telling him how it was a waste of time bothering with someone like her. But of course, Nea had had to mention Danny. Make fun of his little brother, of Michael, even mock Joey, and Susie. His friends. His pack. His family.

He remembered everything of course, to the smallest detail. How he had forged the note saying Nea was running away with another Alpha, thinking she would be hated if she stayed. David helped him carry the body to Max's pigpen. The way David's cock tasted on his mouth and the muffled sounds he had made as Dwight sucked him off in the back of his car.

It had been fun. The kind of heady high he had only felt once before when he had to clean up one of Danny's scenes because he had gotten himself stabbed.

And of course, no one at school suspected a thing. The student body ate up Meg's fake note so easily it was almost laughable. Dwight had assumed that had been it, and focused on his grades, filing everything that went through with Meg, Nea, and Kate to the back of his mind.

That was why Kate’s call took him by surprise.

"Dwight, please, you have to help me." Kate's pitchy, worried voice begged almost as soon as he accepted the call.

Dwight knew Kate, had become accustomed to the different shifts in her voice that marked her emotions more clearly than her expressions did. She wasn’t just worried, she was terrified but there was also an undercurrent of guilt there that made him take her words with a grain of salt.

"It's 11 pm, Kate. My heat only broke yesterday." He said flatly, not at all in the mood for her bullshit. Despite his heats being a mellow affair, his body was still sore and he wanted nothing but to bury himself back in his nest.

"Please." She was begging now and Dwight swore he could hear Ace's and Ash's drunken babble in the background. "Meg left me alone with Ash and Ace as one of her pranks, and they are really drunk. I'm... I'm really scared Dwight, please."

Oh. Yeah okay, he couldn't say no to that. Out of the three of them, Kate had always been the nicest, relatively speaking. She went along with whatever the other two told her to do sure, but that was about it. He was gonna regret this later for sure but right now all he knew was that he needed to get her out of there.

"Fine, okay. Lemme grab my mom's keys and I will be there. Text me your address in the meantime."

She thanked him profusely before cutting the call and Dwight sighed. With luck, Uncle Herman might be awake and could lend him two bottles of vodka laced with sedatives.

------

It had only taken a day. Just one. Now all the school was gossiping about how much of a slut Dwight was, having spent his heat with not one but two Alphas.

Ash and Ace had no proof of course, other than their words but this was high school. The veracity of things didn't have to be proven for people to believe them and as it was, Dwight had become an absolute social outcast in the last party. If the star Alphas of the football team claimed it was true, of course, it was.

"Danny, leave it. They are not worth it." He said for the second time as a group of cheerleaders went past their pack's table and made faces of disgust at Dwight.

"But Dwickyyyy ..." Danny pouted, and Dwight knew this was his brother's best front. Knew that there was fury and venom in his brother's dark eyes. Knew there was already a plot brewing there too. "I d-don't wanna."

But Dwight was adamant about this, shaking his head again and turning to face the whole pack who had different expressions of anger among them.

"No one gets to lay a hand on those two, you hear me? I will personally deal with them, myself. Is that clear?" Some of them nod, but others like Frank and David still snarl. This made Dwight frown, holding their gazes until they lowered their heads. "Good."

It was only later when Dwight was heading out of the locker room after a particularly tense cheer practice, that things started to get out of hand.

"What the bloody fuck did ye say about my boyfriend, ye git?" David's accent was unmistakable but the kind of vitriol that filled his voice was completely new to Dwight. It had him instantly separating from the team and making his way over to the source of the commotion.

There was a throng of people gathered around the base of the bleachers making it unable for Dwight to properly see what was happening. He was about to push his way through when the crowd suddenly parted, giving him a perfect view of the bloody mess that was inside.

Ace was bleeding profusely from a broken nose, his left eye was swollen almost shut, Ash was next to him, knuckles scraped and bloodied. He seemed fine, for the most part, his lip was split and there was a smear of bloody saliva on his cheek. Dwight didn't care about them though. It was who he saw in Joey's arms, nearly unconscious, that caused him concern.

From what he could see David had ended up almost as bad as Ace, blood running down his nose, lip split, right eye already swelling up, and knuckles scraped. If the way he seemed unable to walk straight on his own was any indication, Dwight fears he might have a concussion too.

"Fuckers started it," Joey said as soon as Dwight was close enough to listen to him. "Caught up with us just at the start of practice and started spouting shit about you. Bet they just wanted to get a rise out of him."

Dwight sighed, helping Joey sit David down by the benches. The younger Beta left to go pick up their things and Dwight busied himself cleaning off the blood caking his boyfriend's face and knuckles. He was frustrated, bordering on angry, and David must've scented it off him because he managed to frown despite the obvious pain it put him in.

"Ain't gonna say sorry for showing those gits what they get for slagging you off." He rasped, having to stop midway to spit a gob of congealed blood into the grass.

"Wasn't going to ask you to," Dwight said simply, prodding at his nose with careful fingers to make sure it wasn't broken. "But you need to trust me when I say I will take care of it."

"I trust ye, sweetheart. But I can't just sit back and do nothing when they come looking for a fight." David shot back, wincing slightly despite the softness of his boyfriend's touch.

"Technically, you can." David gave him a glare that Dwight matched with equal intensity until the Alpha looked away first. "Look, I'm not mad at you. They provoked you knowing full well you would react. I just hate it when you get hurt because of me."

"...Even if it's kinda hot?" David grinned.

"Even if it's kinda hot," Dwight confirmed, offering him a small smile.

-----

Three days later, Dwight finally enacted his plan.

He'd left a note for Ash and Ace to find, inviting them to the cemetery so they could reenact their threesome fantasies with him. The idiots had believed it all, hook, line, and sinker. It was almost funny how easy it had been.

Flattering clothes, and heeled boots, things that would look sexy but would be easy to clean afterward. Danny had done his make-up, something deadly that would match his leather gloves, brimming with excitement because Dwight finally got to enjoy a little murder.

So now he waited patiently for them to arrive, sitting primly on a headstone like the image of a proper Omega one would see in cheap romantic novels. David waited in the car, parked by the entrance of the graveyard, only because he had refused to allow him to do this without any backup.

At last, the two of them appear, looking awkward and nervous and a little drunk already. They reek of interested Alpha pheromones, which in turn threatens to make Dwight throw up but he kept his pleasant facade for now.

"Boys, you're here! Fantastic. We can finally start this." He chirped, voice high and happy.

Ash and Ace smirk, step closer, crowd him in the middle of the two like Dwight would try to escape or something. It irked him but he remained calm, rising a bit to wrap his arms around their necks and pull them closer. Neither of them noticed the thin syringes until it was too late.

"What the-" It was the only thing Ace managed to get out before he stumbled on his feet, falling on his ass. Ash didn't even manage to say anything before his knees gave and he fell to the ground face first, body a messy heap.

They were still conscious of course, his mom's special brew numbing their limbs but allowing them to stay awake. It was not something that showed up in general toxicology reports either, and thus had quickly become Dwight's favorite.

"You tried to rape Kate, almost got away with it even, had I not come help her out. Not satisfied with that, you chose to slander my name in front of the whole school." His voice was flat, emotionless, clinical. Rage simmered under the surface but there was no point in letting it drive his actions. Passion crimes were always the easiest to spot, and Dwight was not about to get caught over two idiots like these.

"That was the biggest mistake you could make." He positioned Ash's body so he was sitting with his back to a tombstone, facing Ace. Their terrified eyes stared at him horrified but he once again felt nothing, his mind an unperturbed lake. "Don't you think so too?"

When he was satisfied with how the two of them were posed, he slipped a folded note inside the pocket of Ash's varsity jacket, glad that his leather gloves would leave no remaining evidence on the soon-to-be corpses.

With the same overwhelming calm, he pulled out his custom-made colt 45, a gift from his mother. It was black with a white grip, engraved with golden vines over the barrel. A pretty little thing he rarely ever used, but it seemed fitting this time.

No more words left his mouth as he placed the gun in Ace's hands, making sure he'd got a proper grip on it before raising the gun to Ace’s head. There was no dramatic pause before he pulled the trigger, no tentative build-up. One moment Ace was alive, the next the left side of his head looked like hamburger meat.

Dwight made sure that none of the blood had gotten on him before moving over to Ash and doing the same thing. Worldless and instant. There was no point in stalling or watching them try to beg for mercy.

Once he'd triple checked the scene was flawless, he silently made his way back to the car where David was waiting for him. The swelling in his eye had gone down at last but he still looked worse for wear. Still, he grinned when he saw Dwight slide into the driver's seat.

"All done?"

"All done," Dwight confirmed, allowing his body to relax. He required a serious shower and even then he wasn't sure he would be able to scrub the hideous Alpha scent those two had covered him with.

"C'mere..." David murmured, pulling him closer so he could nuzzle firmly at both sides of Dwight's neck, marking him with his scent. It wasn't enough to completely dispel Ash's and Ace's scent, but it managed to take the edge off and settle Dwight's stomach.

"Thank you." He said honestly, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's uninjured cheek. "Um..."

"What is it, darlin'?"

Dwight didn't want to appear needy or like he needed to be babied after kills. But the way Ash and Ace had crowded him, rubbed their scent over him, bothered him greatly. The Omega in him protesting with the hostile scents.

"Do you think you could stay over tonight?" He asked quietly, face once again tucked in the crook of David's neck. "I'm not bothered after killing them, it's just... I feel dirty with their scent all over me."

David hummed, threading his fingers through Dwight's messy hair. "Sure, sweetheart. Ye just need a little scenting, I can give ye that."

#adopted au #dbd #dead by daylight #dwight fairfield #david king #nea karlsson #ash williams #ace visconti #drabbles #dwight and danny are brothers in this au if that wasn't clear #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

couldn’t make it more obvious could you (be any more obvious)?

this is my birthday present for the wonderful brilliant @clumsyclifford i don’t wanna get too emo in the a/ns especially because i just wrote an incredibly long a/n out and then accidentally deleted it still slyly fuming about that but anyway enough about my technological incompetence i love you so much you deserve the entire world and i’m sorry this is all i can give you of it i’m so grateful i know you and so honoured to have you in my life loving you truly is a privilege i adore you and i hope you have the best birthday you can possibly have also can you BELIEVE i found vegas lyrics that i haven’t used for a fic title yet this is the EIGHTH fic i’ve ever written named after lyrics from vegas THE EIGHTH

(also i have to give a cheeky thank you to @kaleidoscopeminds for listening to me scream about this tonight and watching me slowly spiral while listening to right here right now by fatboy slim on repeat for like an hour straight ily meg you do gods work you truly do)

It all starts by accident.

They’re in Paris, or maybe Rome, or maybe Budapest, when Luke decides the bad mood Michael’s been in all day will be greatly improved by him tossing an opinion about Red Rock chips into the mix. Calum and Ashton both groan loudly as soon as he’s said it, knowing what’s coming, and Michael’s head snaps up from where he’s been scowling at his phone in the corner, eyes already narrowed, finally getting the fight he’s been spoiling for all day.

“Are you fucking serious?” he demands. “Sea salt is better than sweet chilli?”

“Well, yeah,” Luke says, with a shrug, like he hasn’t noticed the way Michael’s brow has furrowed, or the glower he’s sending Luke’s way. “It’s the simplicity, y’know?”

“The simplicity?” Michael echoes incredulously. “The simplicity?” He stares at Luke for a moment, righteous anger etched on his face, and then turns back to his phone, and starts typing something furiously.

“What’re you doing?” Calum asks, a little warily. Michael, a bad mood, Luke riling him up and the internet are usually a bad combination.

“Adding to my list of reasons I hate Luke,” Michael says, and Calum’s face clears, and he nods. Luke frowns.

“What d’you mean, your list of reasons you hate me?” he says, like he’s not sure whether he should feel offended or upset. “You have a list?”

“You don’t?” Ashton asks, sounding a little surprised. Luke stares at him.

“Why the fuck would I have a list of reasons I hate myself?” he asks. Ashton shrugs.

“It’s good to be self-aware,” he tells Luke, who stares at him for a moment, looking torn between indignation and disbelief, before rounding on Michael

“What’s on your list?” he demands.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my list. Keep your own.” Luke opens his mouth, brow furrowed, ready to make some kind of furious retort, but Ashton gets in before he can succeed in his mission to piss Michael off further.

“D’you want to hear mine?” he offers mildly. “Yours is the shortest of my lists.”

“You have lists on all of us?” Calum says, and Ashton nods. Calum just hums, mulling it over. It’s fair enough, really. He’s only got one on Luke, because the things that annoy him about Ashton are so few and far between that they don’t warrant a list and the things that annoy him about Michael are so well-worn that they’re imprinted in the very fabric of his soul. Michael, though, whips around to face Ashton at that, with a deep scowl.

“What the fuck?” he demands hotly, and puts his phone down. Calum eyes it in trepidation, knowing that if Michael’s freeing both hands up to gesticulate, he’s going to fucking mean what he says next. Sure enough, both hands come flying up in indignation as he says: “You have a list of reasons you hate me?”

“You have a list of reasons you hate Luke,” Ashton points out.

“Yeah, but who doesn’t?” Michel says, waving a hand dismissively.

“Me?” Luke says, a little stroppily, but Michael’s not listening.

“What’s on your list?” he wants to know.

“I’m not telling you.”

“You offered to tell Luke his,” Michael points out.

“You’re not Luke.”

“How many lists do you have?” Calum asks curiously.

“One on you, one on Luke, two on Michael-” Ashton starts reciting, cut off by a noise of indignance from Michael.

“Two?” he says. “Why the fuck would you need two?”

“You’re really fucking annoying,” Ashton tells him, and Calum groans when Michael’s eyebrows knit together further and his mouth twists in an angry grimace.

“Why’d you say that?” Calum says to Ashton, gesturing at Michael. “He was pissed off enough already.”

“Luke started it,” Ashton says, and both of them turn to Luke, who crosses his arms sullenly.

“You’re the ones who keep lists of reasons you hate me,” he says sulkily, like that’s at all relevant to the fact he’s just made certain that the next two days of their life stuck in a cramped tour bus with Michael will be hell.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a list,” Ashton says, shaking his head.

“Why the fuck would I have a list?” Luke says, a little upset. “I love you guys.” There’s a pause, and they all look at him. “Well-” he starts to amend, and Michael lets out a triumphant noise and sits back against the sofa again.

“See?” he says, a victorious edge to his voice.

“Maybe we should go to relationship counselling,” Ashton suggests.

“We don’t need relationship counselling,” Luke says. “You guys just need to stop being dicks.”

“You just need to stop being fucking annoying,” Michael says, pointing at Luke with one hand as he picks up his phone again with the other. “Then there wouldn’t be any need for the lists.”

“What about Ashton’s other lists?” Calum points out, and then immediately regrets it when Michael’s eyes flash with irritation again.

“It’s healthy,” Ashton objects.

“Healthy?” Michael echoes in disbelief. “It’s healthy to keep a list of reasons you hate me?”

“What about me?” Luke protests, but nobody’s listening.

“Two lists,” Ashton corrects, and Calum pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s going to have a word with him about tact. “I bet everyone in a band does it.”

“I don’t,” Luke says pointedly.

“Well, maybe that’s why you’re not a well-adjusted individual,” Ashton says, with a shrug, and Luke stares at him.

“Are you trying to tell me Michael’s well-adjusted?” he says.

“What the fuck?” Michael starts indignantly, but then there’s a loud cough from someone that’s none of them, and they all start in surprise, whipping around to try and find the source.

“Mike?” the voice says into the silence, sounding a little far away and tinny. “Did you mean to call me?” Michael looks down at the phone in his hand in bewilderment, frowning at it for a split second before lifting it to his ear.

“Alex?” he says, a little perplexed. The rest of them all look at him, waiting as his eyebrows furrow further for a moment before his face clears. “Oh.”

“What?” Luke wants to know. Michael shoots him a glare, and points at the phone in his hand, mouthing I’m on the phone dramatically. Calum rolls his eyes.

“It’s only Alex,” he says. Michael raises his eyebrows. Only Alex? he’s saying, and Calum sighs, exasperated, because Michael knows full well what he means, he’s just being difficult. Maybe Ashton has the right idea, keeping a list about Michael.

“Put him on speaker,” Ashton says, and Michael flaps a hand at him and shakes his head, listening to whatever Alex is saying. “Put him on speaker, Mike,” Ashton says again, a little more insistently. Michael throws him a glare too.

“No,” he hisses. “He called me, not any of you.”

“He only has one phone,” Calum points out.

“He could have started a group call,” Ashton says fairly. “And anyway, he said Michael called him.”

“Whose fucking side are you on?” Luke says, and Ashton holds his hands up in defence, leaning back a little in his seat. Calum makes a mental note to add learn when the appropriate moment to be diplomatic is to the conversation he’s going to have with Ashton later.

“What?” Michael says suddenly, eyes darting to the wall opposite him. He listens for a second as Alex speaks, and then makes a noise of triumph, a smile spreading across his face. “Hang on, hang on, let me put you on speaker.”

“Are you serious?” Luke says in disbelief, as Michael tears the phone from his ear and presses the speaker button.

“Say that again,” Michael says to Alex.

“Michael’s right,” Alex says, a little tinny and edged with static. “It’s bad practice to keep lists of things you hate about all your band members. You’ve each got to pick one.”

“How’s that make any sense?” Luke demands, at the same time that Calum says: “Who’s yours about, then?” and Ashton hums thoughtfully.

“Mine’s on Rian,” Alex says.

“Why?” Calum can’t help but ask. He’s not sure why anyone would keep a list on Rian, least of all when Jack’s right there.

“He needed an ego check,” Alex says.

“An ego check?” Calum echoes. “What does Rian-”

“That’s not important,” Michael interrupts, before Calum has a chance to ask what’s on the list, waving his hand dismissively, because the fucker can’t stand going more than thirty seconds without everyone’s attention on him. “The point is I’m right.”

“This time,” Alex says, and the triumphant smile on Michael’s face turns into an indignant scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean, this time?” he demands hotly, and Calum snorts. Serves him right, really.

“See?” Luke says, sounding incredibly satisfied. Michael glowers at him.

“He still said I was right, though,” he says.

“Conditionally,” Ashton says, and Michael whips around to glower at him too.

“You guys should try relationship counselling,” Alex remarks, and it’s Ashton’s turn to sit back and raise his eyebrows pointedly, looking pleased. Calum feels a bit left out, now; he’s the only one that hasn’t had his moment of triumph. “Anyway, I’ve got to go and stop Jack.”

“Why, what’s he doing?” Calum asks curiously.

“No idea, but I bet he needs stopping. Hey, text me when you’re in the States, yeah?” And with that, he’s gone.

The four of them stare at Michael’s phone for a moment, before Michael sits back and stretches.

“I’m right,” he tells them, just in case they hadn’t heard. Luke scoffs.

“So, what, Alex’s word is law, now?” he says. There’s a moment of silence. “Alright, yeah,” Luke relents, and Calum snorts.

“At least we know how to sort any arguments, now,” he says. “Ring Alex.”

“Y’know, in a way, that’s sort of like relationship counselling,” Ashton says thoughtfully, and Luke sighs, loud and exasperated, and Calum and Michael both chorus: “Shut the fuck up, Ashton.”

-------

It becomes a thing after that.

When Luke and Michel can’t agree on which of MarioKart Wii or MarioKart 8 is the better game, they call Alex.

(“Obviously MarioKart Wii,” Alex says, sounding almost offended that the question’s even been asked.

“What d’you mean, obviously?” Michael says, outraged.

“When was the last time you played MarioKart 8?” Alex asks pointedly, and Michael opens his mouth furiously, and then stops, and closes it again.

“It’s still a better fucking game,” he mutters, and Luke grins.)

When the four of them can’t decide whether they should get takeaway McDonald’s or go out to eat at a proper restaurant, they call Alex.

(“Well, this is easy,” Alex says. The four of them frown. How the fuck is this easy? They’ve been arguing about it for twenty minutes.

“How?” Luke says.

“Who’s paying for Luke if you go out?” The four of them look at each other. They’ll split the bill, surely?

“Well, I thought one person would-” Luke starts, a little defensively, which is all they need to hear.

“McDonald’s,” Michael, Calum and Ashton say decisively.)

When Ashton and Calum argue about whether or not Ashton functions well on four hours’ sleep, they call Alex.

(“How long did you sleep last night?” Alex asks, after humming, like he’s having to think this one through.

“Four fucking hours, Jesus Christ,” Ashton snaps. Calum throws him a pointed look.

“Y’know what, you don’t even need me for this one,” Alex says delicately, and hangs up.)

Alex always has an answer for them.

“Why the fuck aren’t you in this band?” Ashton laments one night, when Alex has successfully convinced Calum to go on his third night out in a row, and on an empty stomach, no less. Alex laughs, bright and easy.

“I can’t leave Jack on his own for more than fifteen minutes,” he says. “Contractual obligation.”

“What d’you do when he’s asleep?” Ashton wonders.

“What d’you think?” Alex says, words curled around a coy smile. Calum frowns, and opens his mouth to say something - what, he’s not entirely sure; are you implying sleep with, or sleep with? maybe - but then there’s a crash, and Alex swears loudly. “Shit. See, it’s been seventeen minutes. I’ll send the bill for whatever that was over to your management.”

“Send it to Luke instead,” Calum says. “We shouted him at least six rounds last night.” Alex laughs again.

“Got it,” he says, and then he’s gone. Calum’s frown doesn’t go with him, though.

“D’you think he was being serious?” he asks Ashton, who’s already engrossed in his phone again.

“Hm?” Ashton says, without looking up. “‘Bout what?”

“Jack.” That makes Ashton look up, brow furrowed.

“What about him?” Calum hesitates.

“Y’know,” he says, a little uncomfortably. Ashton cocks his head, raising his eyebrows in an I don’t know sort of way. “About them. Sleeping together.”

“Oh,” Ashton says, shrugs, and turns back to his phone. “Yeah, obviously.” That’s all he seems to have to say on the matter, and Calum decides not to push it. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to, because right then Luke wanders into the lounge area, frowning at his phone.

“Hey,” he says. “Why the fuck has Alex just sent me a bill for a new drum kit?”

-------

Alex doesn’t mention it again, but Calum can’t stop thinking about it.

He’d said it so casually, so easily, a lick of wicked humour to it. What do you do when Jack’s asleep? Calum had asked. What do you think? Alex had said, like it was nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a joke. Ashton hadn’t seemed to think anything of it, had he? Maybe Calum was just reading into it. Yeah, that was it, surely; Calum was probably just protecting. It’s not like everyone’s in love with their childhood best friend that they happen to be in a band with, is it? God knows Calum’s shared a bed with Luke and Ashton enough times without wanting to fuck them.

(He’d never get that coy edge to his voice, though, if he were talking about Luke or Ashton.)

He manages to push the matter to one side for a few weeks, until one day when he and Luke are arguing about whether the lyrics to Some Kind of Disaster are ‘I let the sun rise up’ or ‘I let the song rise up’, and they ring Alex, but Jack picks up.

“What’s up?” Jack says casually, like it’s perfectly normal for him to answer Alex’s phone.

“Where’s Alex?” Calum says.

“Hello to you too,” Jack says.

“It’s important,” Luke adds, leaning over the phone like it’s not on speaker. Jesus Christ. Calum wonders whether the boy was born in ‘96 or ‘56, sometimes.

“You don’t need to lean over it, Luke,” Calum tells him, wrenching the phone away. “He can hear you.”

“I’m just making sure,” Luke says, scowling.

“What d’you want Alex for?” Jack asks.

“To decide something for us,” Calum says.

“Oh,” Jack says, brightening. “I can do that. I make great decisions.” There’s a pause.

“Yeah, no,” Calum says, and Luke says: “Just give us Alex.”

“Fuck you two,” Jack mutters, but there’s a rustling sound and then the sound of footsteps. Calum and Luke both wait, listening to a door open and close quietly, and then they hear a soft: “Hey, baby, wake up.”

Baby?

Calum’s head jerks up to look at Luke, who’s still staring patiently down at Calum’s phone, like he hasn’t just heard Jack call Alex baby. Maybe he hasn’t. Is Calum hallucinating? Shit, he doesn’t have time for a mental breakdown; they’re playing a show in three hours, and they’re supposed to start recording their next album soon.

“Mm,” Calum hears Alex groan. “Wh’s’it?”

“Cal and Luke,” Jack says.

“Tell ‘m to fuck off,” Alex mumbles, and there’s more rustling. “Come t’ bed.” Come to bed? Calum shoots Luke another glance, but he’s still just waiting for Alex to say something. Maybe Calum is going insane. Maybe he should’ve listened to Ashton about that whole seven-to-nine-hours-sleep thing.

“I’m cooking,” Jack says, and his voice is gentler than Calum’s ever heard it, edged with a smile. Alex makes a noise of discontent, then a deep sigh, and then there’s some very loud static as he raises the phone to his ear.

“What?” he says, sounding simultaneously sleepy and annoyed.

“Some Kind of Disaster,” Luke says, getting straight to the point. “Is it ‘I let the sun rise up’ or ‘song’?” There’s a pause.

“I don’t know,” Alex says, through a yawn.

“What d’you mean, you don’t know?” Luke demands. “It’s your fucking song.”

“It’s both,” Alex says. “It was sun, and then I changed it to song.”

“So it’s song?” Calum says, because that’s what he’s been arguing.

“Well, it’s sun too,” Alex says.

“Well, it’s not,” Calum says, “because you can only sing one of them at a time.”

“Exactly,” Luke agrees. “So which one is it?” Alex sighs, all long-suffering, and there’s a shuffling sound, like he’s sitting up in bed.

“You’re both right,” he says. Calum and Luke exchange a look. They’re not really sure what to do in this situation.

“But on the album version-” Luke starts, and Alex makes a noise of exasperation.

“Fucking hell, I sang ‘song’ on the album,” he says, and Calum sits back triumphantly and throws his hands up in a see, I told you gesture, forgetting that he’s got his phone in his hand and sending it flying. Luckily, it doesn’t go far, lands somewhere on the sofa to their right, and Luke reaches over, inspects it quickly and dusts it off before handing it back to Calum, who inspects it again, because Luke’s managed to get through three phones in the past year alone, so he’s clearly not a trustworthy source when it comes to phone maintenance. It doesn't look scratched, though, but when he lifts it back up to his face to apologise to Alex for the disturbance, it’s on the home screen, and Alex is gone.

“If ‘sun’ was the original, though, I think that’s the right answer,” Luke says, and Calum shakes his head as he pockets his phone again.

“You heard him,” he says, letting the vindication leak into his voice, because Luke had been making fun of him for at least fifteen minutes before they’d called Alex. “The final version’s ‘song’.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Did you hear him and Jack?” Calum cuts in, not wanting to get caught in another argument when they’ve just settled it.

“What about them?”

“Well, did you hear them?” Luke stares at him.

“Yeah?” he says, like he doesn’t quite understand the question. Calum stares back. Surely he hadn’t misheard what they’d said, not twice. Baby, Jack had said, and Alex had asked him in a sleepy, needy voice to come to bed.

“Well?” he asks. Luke blinks at him.

“Look, I know I said I thought I had tinnitus, but that was on a bad day after Michael had been yelling in my ear all day-” he starts, but Calum shakes his head, a little impatiently.

“Jack called Alex ‘baby’,” he says. Luke frowns.

“Yeah?” Yeah? Yeah? What the fuck? Is Calum abnormal for not going around calling his bandmates ‘baby’?

“So, is that, like, a Baltimore thing?” Calum asks, as casually as possible. There’s a pause.

“Is...having a boyfriend a Baltimore thing...?” Luke says slowly, and Calum frowns right back at him.

“A boyfriend?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Cal?” Luke says, brows now so closely knit that he sort of looks like he has a unibrow.

“What are you talking about?” Calum asks, because Luke’s the one that suddenly brought up boyfriends and is now acting like Calum’s the idiot in this conversation. “What have boyfriends got to do with this?” Luke looks at him for a moment, like he can’t tell whether Calum’s being serious or not, and Calum raises his eyebrows in a what? sort of way.

“Cal,” Luke says slowly, like he’s still not entirely sure whether Calum’s taking the piss or not. “You...you know Jack and Alex are together, right?” Calum stares at him.

“They’re what?” he says.

“Are you being serious?” Luke asks, frowning.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They’ve been together for years, Cal.” Calum blinks.

“How the fuck didn’t I-” he starts, somewhere between shocked and affronted that everyone seems to have known except him.

“I have no idea,” Luke says, sounding completely bewildered. “Jesus Christ, Cal.”

That pretty much sums it up.

-------

That night, Calum can’t stop thinking about it.

He stares up at the ceiling of his bunk, hands clasped over his chest, and replays memories of interactions with Jack and Alex, memories of them grinning fondly at each other when someone told a joke, of them stood off to the side at a party, Alex’s hand resting gently on Jack’s elbow as he stood far too close for comfort and told him something with an earnest expression on his face, of them declining nights out because they ‘want to rest, guys, we’re getting old - or at least Alex is’ and Rian and Zack exchanging a look and wordlessly going to secure their bunks. Calum had just thought it was because they didn’t trust Alex and Jack not to fuck around if left unsupervised, but maybe there was another reason, the reason everyone else snorted or smirked when Rian and Zack stood up and raced to their bunks.

It feels like something slotting into place when he thinks about it. Of course Alex and Jack are together; how could he have ever thought any different? How could he have thought those fond looks and gentle touches, those private smiles and shared frowns, those lazily tangled fingers and open-mouthed kisses ever meant anything else?

He knows why. Because he and Michael do all those things too.

But it’s not the same, right? Or, well, it might be from Calum, but it can’t be from Michael. Michael probably just thinks they’re friendly gestures, too. The two of them have been so intertwined with one another for so long that they’ve forgotten how to live apart, how to exist without the other’s touch, and that’s all it can be to Michael. Maybe Michael doesn’t even know about Jack and Alex. He probably wouldn’t act like he does with Calum if he knew it could be misinterpreted like that.

Yeah, Calum thinks, rolling on his side and folding his arms, staring at the wall instead of the ceiling, and trying to let the white noise of the bus calm his churning stomach and slow his racing heart. That’s what it is. Michael doesn’t know. He can’t.

-------

A few weeks later, Calum and Michael are sat on a pier in England while the bus gets serviced, legs dangling off the edge as they smoke in silence. It’s quiet here, nothing but the sound of the waves and the wind (and the odd screeching seagull), and Calum lets it wash over him with every drag of his cigarette, letting it go with every exhale.

“We shouldn’t be smoking so close to a show,” Michael murmurs, and then immediately proceeds to take another drag of his cigarette. Calum raises an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. “What? It’s already lit. Shouldn’t waste it.” Calum huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes, and exhales his own cloud of smoke, watching as it curls upwards and disperses to join the clouds above them.

“You shouldn’t be smoking at all,” he tells Michael, because Calum’s a lost cause, but there’s still hope for Michael.

“You shouldn’t be giving me cigarettes, then,” Michael retorts, which is fair enough.

“I won’t next time,” Calum says, which is a flat-out lie. They both know Calum would give Michael the world, and the stars and moon and sun too, if he wanted them.

They smoke in silence for a while, and Calum watches as his clouds of smoke mingle with Michael’s as they tip their heads back and breathe up at the sky, and thinks there’s maybe some kind of symbolism in it that he can’t quite make out through the grey haze. Ashton would know, would say something like it means your mothers are twin flames with a dead straight face and mean it, and Calum would catch Michael’s eye over the top of Ashton’s head and share a quick look with him, something so brief that Ashton wouldn’t even notice it, something only Michael and Calum would know about. He’s seen Jack and Alex do the same thing hundreds of times when Luke’s made a stupid comment, or when Rian’s giving them a lecture about not pulling pranks on the tour bus that everybody has to share, or when they’ve passed a stranger on the street that had been wearing something crazy.

“Did you know Jack and Alex are together?” he blurts, before he’s had the time to process the thought and stop it in its tracks on its way to his tongue. Michael throws him an odd look.

“Yeah,” he says, as though Calum’s just asked did you know my name’s Calum?

“Oh,” Calum says.

“Why?”

“I didn’t.” Michael stares at him.

“How the fuck-”

“I don’t know,” Calum says quickly - too quickly, because Michael stops, looks, narrows his eyes, gaze flicking from Calum’s eyes to his lips and back again, and then opens his mouth.

“You thought they were just friends?” he says slowly. Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably, and stubs his cigarette out on the pier just for something to look at that isn’t Michael. “You think friends just- just, what, look at each other like that?”

“Well, to be fair-” Calum starts, a touch defensively, but Michael interrupts.

“Or, or, what, hold hands and make out?” he says.

“We hold hands and make out,” Calum points out.

“Exactly,” Michael says. There’s a pause.

“What?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Michael says. “Friends don’t do that.” Calum frowns.

“...but best friends do?” Michael throws him a strange look.

“What?” he says. “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. My only other best friends are Ashton and Luke, and I’d rather make out with a pig than either of them.” Calum pulls a face.

“That’s illegal,” he says.

“Well, I didn’t say I was going to,” Michael says, exasperated, like Calum’s derailing the conversation. “The point is, friends don’t do that.” Calum looks at him for a moment, looks at the certainty in Michael’s eyes, and then looks out at the sea, stomach matching the tidal current.

He doesn’t get it. Michael and Calum are friends, he knows they are, knows it from the way Michael snuggles into Calum’s chest as soon as he spots him lying or sitting anywhere with a space next to him, from the way Michael stays up all night rubbing soothing circles on Calum’s back while he throws up everything he’d drunk on the empty stomach Ashton had convinced him to go out on, from the way they laugh and joke and cry and hold each other, foreheads pressed together, or sometimes cheek-to-cheek, or sometimes Michael’s face pressed into Calum’s throat. Michael loves Calum, and Calum loves Michael, and Calum’s entire system of faith is built around that. It all starts with Michael, and Calum and Michael, and builds out from there.

So why is Michael saying friends don’t act like they do?

Sure, Calum only holds Luke’s hand as a joke, or when he’s in his darkest moments, and only kisses Ashton chastely on the lips, and usually only when he’s drunk, nothing like the casual and easy hand-holding and the kisses with tender hands cupping each other’s jaws or with fingers curled lightly in each other’s hair he has with Michael, but it’s still friendly, isn’t it? It’s what he and Michael have always done, finding respite in each other, building a home in each other’s hearts and hands and mouths. That’s just how they are, Calum’s always thought, when Michael’s slotted his fingers between Calum’s confidently, like they were made to be there. That’s just how things are with them. But they’re still just friends, aren’t they? It’s not like Calum fucks Michael, or anything. They both go out and get laid, come back to their shared hotel room smelling like girls and boys neither of them will ever see again. But, Calum thinks, when he stumbles into their hotel room at God knows what time in the morning and falls into bed next to Michael, he’s the one that’ll press soft kisses to the bruises already blossoming on Calum’s throat. And maybe that’s what it’s about.

“But we do that,” he says again, trying to understand what Michael’s saying.

“Yeah, I know,” Michael says, sounding a little annoyed now, like Calum’s being wilfully ignorant. “What’s your point?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” There’s a pause.

“Oh,” Michael says, and it sounds small, and hurt, and raw. “Is- oh.”

“Is what?” Calum tears his eyes away from the sea, looks over at Michael, who’s hunched into himself a little, shoulders sagging and knees drawn close to his chest. He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at Calum, and Calum’s heart lurches. He’s fucked up. He said something wrong.

“Hey,” he says gently, and reaches over to put a hand on Michael’s arm, but Michael flinches away. Calum frowns. “What’s up?”

“I just-” Michael cuts himself off, shakes his head again, and stands up abruptly.

“I’m going back,” he says shortly.

“Okay,” Calum says, and makes to get to his feet too, but Michael stops him.

“No,” he says. “I- you stay here.”

Oh.

Okay.

“Okay,” Calum says, and he can’t help the bit of upset that leaks into his voice at that. Michael looks like he’s torn for a minute, like maybe he wants to stay, but then he balls his hands into fists at his side and walks off, fast and stiff. Calum watches him go until he’s all the way off the pier, until he’s turned past the shop at the corner and is heading back up the hill to where they’d left the tour bus, and then, when he’s blocked by a row of houses, turns back to the sea. It looks greyer than before, but Calum doesn’t mind. It means he won’t have to see the smoke curling up into the sky without another cloud to join it as he smokes the rest of his pack.

-------

Michael’s not on the bus when Calum gets back, and, surprisingly, neither are Luke or Ashton.

There’s a note on the table that says gone w/mike, wtf did u do, burn this before we get back in Luke’s hasty scribble, and Calum’s stomach drops as he picks it up and reads and re-reads it. What the fuck did he do?

He heads back out of the bus with the note clenched in his fist, both to burn it without setting the fire alarm off and because the bus feels oddly claustrophobic on his own, too many floors and ceilings and walls and reminders of Michael plastered all over them. The fresh air feels a little calming, even though he’s just come in from outside, and he lets the breeze steal over his face as he gets his lighter to the paper and watches it burn itself out in his hand.

All he’d said was we’re friends, aren’t we? He doesn’t understand why Michael’s taken such offence to that, like he doesn’t crawl into Calum’s bunk three times a day and demand to be told he’s Calum’s best friend. Maybe it was because Calum had only said friend that time, not best friend. Michael can be oddly sensitive about these things; Calum remembers a time that he’d told Ashton he was in love with him with a completely sincere expression on his face because Ashton had made him a coffee in the morning, and Michael had stormed out of the room and spent the next three days steadfastly keeping his hands to himself around Calum, no heads on shoulders or in laps.

But he’d said it all of two minutes earlier, hadn’t he, and even Michael’s not stroppy enough to get that fussed about wording, so that doesn’t make any sense. And he can’t be upset about the hand-holding and kissing itself, can he, or he’d’ve stopped doing it by now. So it’s got to be something to do with the fact that Calum had been confused about the fact that they did what Jack and Alex do, but that they’re friends, and not boyf-

Oh.

But surely not. Surely-

Calum racks his brains, heart racing, palms sweating, trying to come up with some other explanation for the hurt etched on Michael’s features, the anguish in his eyes, the way he’d stood up so abruptly and stiffly with his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands, but there’s nothing.

All he can think, echoing loudly in his mind, is that maybe Michael thought they were- well, not quite boyfriends, but not quite friends, either.

The thought bounces around Calum’s head like it’s trying to find a way out but is trapped in a panicked bubble of Michael and shit and no no no that won’t let it escape. Calum’s breath is coming in short, sharp bursts, and he leans back against the bus, staring unblinkingly at the sky as he tries to wrap his head around what’s just crossed his mind. Fuck. Fuck. Maybe it had meant something to Michael, too. Shit, of course it meant something to Michael, what the fuck was Calum thinking? Of course it did, because it meant something to Calum. Calum never kissed Luke like that, or let Ashton hold his hand until it was slick with sweat on a hot summer night, and neither did Michael, so of course it meant something to him too. God, Calum’s an idiot, so fucking stupid; of course it meant something to Michael. And Calum’s just thrown it in his face.

He’s fumbling for his phone before he’s even really processed the desire to do so, stabbing at the last number he’d dialled and muttering c’mon, c’mon while he waits for Alex to pick up. He does, on the third ring, making the dial tone cut out with a click when he raises the phone to his ear and says tiredly: “Who’re you fighting with this time?”

“Alex,” Calum says, and he hears the desperation and confusion in his own voice.

“Shit, Cal, what’s up?” Alex says, suddenly alert and serious. “You okay?” Calum almost laughs. No, he’s not fucking okay, because he’s just fucked something up that he’s always wanted and didn’t even know he already had.

“No,” he says, feeling a little hysterical. “I- it’s- I was with Michael, and-”

“Oh, shit,” Alex says. “You haven’t- like, did you break up, or-”

“What?” Calum says. “No, we- what? We’re not together, Alex, but we-”

“What?” Alex says, in disbelief. “What d’you mean, you’re not together?”

“I mean we’re not together, but-”

“Yeah, but that’s what I’m not getting,” Alex interrupts. “How are you not together? Physically? Like, right now?”

“What?” This phone call was a mistake. Calum’s even more confused than he had been at the start. “No, we’re just- we’re not together, we’re single, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“What?” Alex sounds absolutely dumbfounded. “I- what? Wait, okay, no, sorry, you were saying?”

“I think that’s the problem,” Calum says. “I- we were talking, about you and Jack, because I didn’t realise you were together, and-”

“You-” Alex stops himself. “Never mind, never mind, carry on.”

“-and I just said I didn’t realise you were together because me and him do all the same things that you two do, and we’re friends, and he got upset and left.” He’s expecting another interruption, or at the very least an immediate rushed sentence, but instead all he gets is a long, long silence.

“Oh, Cal,” Alex says eventually, exhaling heavily. It makes Calum wince, far too loud in his ear. “You fucked up.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Calum says. “I just- I don’t know what to do now.”

“Just tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That you didn’t realise. That you mean it. All of it.”

“I can’t,” Calum says. “He’s gone. Ashton and Luke, too.”

“Gone?” Alex sounds horrified. “Where? Aren’t you on tour? How are you going to finish-”

“No, like, just gone out,” Calum says hurriedly, although his stomach drops at the prospect. Surely he hasn’t gone. Luke and Ashton wouldn’t have left with him, would they, wouldn’t have left Calum to try and perform some kind of one-man She Looks So Perfect with his bass slung over one knee, guitar over the other, sat at the drums with a mic in front of him. Or would they? Calum feels like he can’t be certain of anything anymore, not when the one constant in his life has been tipped on its head, his world tilted sharply around on its axis.

“Oh,” Alex says, sounding distinctly relieved. “Well, just call him, then.” Oh. Yeah. That would probably have been the best first port of call, rather than ringing Alex.

“I don’t know what to say,” Calum says, a little desperately, and hopes Alex will hear what he’s really asking. Tell me what to say.

“I can’t help you with that, Cal,” Alex says gently. “It’s gotta come from you, man.” Calum knows he’s right, knows it has to be what Calum thinks and what Calum feels, but it doesn’t stop his stomach flipping unpleasantly as he thinks about it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, inhales deeply, and closes his eyes.

“Hey,” Alex says, kind and warm. “It’ll be alright.” Calum huffs out a humourless laugh at that.

“Will it?” he says. It’s not like him; he’s usually the calm one, the rational one, the one who says yeah, man, it sucks and then shrugs and takes another swig of his beer because what good’s worrying about it going to do? This is different, though, the core tenet of his world shifted off-kilter, panic blooming in his lungs as scenes of a life without Michael flash through his mind. He’d challenge anyone to remain calm in the face of a life without Michael.

“‘Course it will,” Alex says, sounding far more confident than Calum feels. “It’s you and Michael, isn’t it? It’ll always be okay.” That soothes Calum a bit, that Alex has so much blind faith in the two of them. He wouldn’t say that unless he meant it, and he wouldn’t mean it if he didn’t believe it, so there’s still someone out there who has trust in them.

“Okay,” Calum says, more trying to convince himself than anything else. “I’ll call him.”

“Okay,” Alex says, still in that gentle, kind voice that Calum’s sure he reserves for small children, animals and Calum in a crisis. “I’ll stay by my phone in case you need me, yeah?” Calum loves him.

“Thanks,” he says, and Alex murmurs a no problem back at him. Calum hesitates for one more second, savouring the last moment of the safety of knowing he’s not on his own out here in the chilly English town that he can’t remember the name of, and then hangs up and scrolls down his recently contacted list to find Michael. His heart’s in his mouth as his sweaty fingers press on the contact, and he brings the phone back up to his ear. It rings once, twice, three times, and then-

“Cal?” It’s not Michael. It’s Ashton.

“Where’s Mike?” He can hear the urgency in his own voice, but doesn’t even have the time to care. All that’s going through his mind is I’ve hurt him and I might lose him.

“He’s here,” Ashton says slowly, delicately, like he knows the next words are going to hurt, “but he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

(They do.)

“Please,” Calum says, a little desperately. “I- I honestly didn’t realise, okay, and I need to tell him, and-”

“Woah, woah, hey,” Ashton sys, and Calum can picture him frowning, concern etched into the lines in his forehead. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean to, like, friendzone him, or whatever, I just didn’t think it meant to him what it means to me, and-”

“Hey,” Ashton says again, and Calum falters. “Breathe, Cal.”

“‘M breathing.”

“Breathe slower.”

“Just let me fucking talk to Mi-”

“Breathe.” There’s a pause.

“Shut the fuck up, Ashton,” Calum says fiercely, “and fucking let me speak to Michael.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Ashton says, a little apologetically.

“Can I- shit, okay. Can you just tell him something from me, then?”

“What?” That’s a good question. He’s not entirely sure what sums all of it up. I’m sorry doesn’t quite cut it, doesn’t make it clear enough that Calum’s sorry for misinterpreting, not that he’s sorry that he doesn’t feel the same way. I love you is the same; it’s not clear enough, not without the stricken expression on Calum’s face and the distraught look that he’s sure is in his eyes. He needs something that works only through words, that won’t get lost in translation somewhere along the phone line or in Ashton.

There is something, something that nudges at the tip of his tongue, a gentle reminder that it’s there, always has been and always will be, but Calum pushes it aside, doesn’t want this to be the first time he says it. There’s got to be something else, something like I need you - no, too selfish - or come back, please - no, too ambiguous, or- shit, no, that’s it, Calum’s all out of ideas.

So, he takes a deep breath, tries to use the cool sea breeze to quell the panic still rising steadily in his lungs, and says it.

“Tell him I’m in love with him.”

He’s expecting it to feel monumental after he’s said it, like a seismic shift will have occurred on Planet Calum, expects a gasp and a dramatic response from Ashton, but all he gets is a feeling of slight fear and an “Alright, sure.”

Is that it? Is that what Calu’s been afraid of all these years? A nonchalant remark from Ashton and a bit of stale fear? Jesus, Calum’s a fucking idiot. If he weren’t so blind, if he weren’t so stubbornly set on forcing things to fit the way he thinks the world is rather than simply letting the world be what it actually is, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have overlooked Jack and Alex, and he wouldn’t have overlooked him and Michael, and he wouldn’t have waited nearly ten years to say hey, Michael, I’m in love with you.

“Okay,” Calum says, testing the word out on his tongue to see how it feels. Surprisingly good, actually. His stomach’s still churning, and his heart is still clenching with something between panic and despair, but the weight pressing down on his chest is a little less heavy, his lungs a little less constricted. He’s said it, now. It’s up to Michael what to do with the words.

“I’m going to come back,” Ashton says. “I- sorry, Michael was panicking and we didn’t think you’d be-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Calum says hurriedly, because it is. He gets it. Luke and Ashton would spring straight into best-friend mode upon seeing Michael upset and panicking, would take him out and away and calm him down, too preoccupied with the there and then to think about whether Calum might be in a similar state. “Don’t. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Ashton says, but it’s not unkind, and he’s not entirely wrong.

“Just- just...tell him, please?” Calum says, and Ashton exhales, and Calum can imagine him nodding.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, ‘course, Cal. I’ll call you back.” He knows Calum doesn’t want to stick around, doesn’t want to hear what Michael has to say just in case, and Calum’s grateful, loves him for it.

“Love you,” he says, because he does.

“Love you too,” Ashton says, and then there’s a click, and he’s gone.

Calum sinks to a crouch, staring at the houses lining the steep hill opposite him, and then sits down properly, exhaling a little shakily as he does. It’s getting colder, he notices, pulling his coat around him and shivering a little. He thinks the sky might be getting darker, too, or it might just be getting greyer; it’s always hard to tell in England.

His thoughts are racing so fast that he’s barely thinking at all, doesn’t have time to process one before the next one pushes it out of the way, so all he can focus on is the guilt and the panic and the worry blooming in every inch of him and try to quell it, try to think about the cool breeze and the hard metal of the bus pressed against his back and the scratchy gravel under his legs. It’s sort of better this way, though, he thinks, as he lets his eyes flutter shut and tries to think about the sound of the seagulls squawking above him. It’s better that he doesn’t know what’s going through his own mind.

He’s startled out of trying to count his breaths - seven in, eleven out, Ashton always says - by the shrill ringing of his phone, and he jumps, phone slipping out of his fingers and onto the gravel between his legs. It’s cracked when he picks it back up again, but he doesn’t even care as soon as he sees the Michael UK New on his screen, can’t care about anything other than the way his heart’s suddenly jumped to his throat and is beating faster than Calum had thought humanly possible.

“Ashton?” he says, expecting a yeah, listen, mate- but there’s nothing. He just gets silence. “Ash?” he tries again. “Can you hear me? What’d he say?”

“D’you mean that?” It’s not Ashton. It’s Michael, and he sounds completely blank.

“Mike,” Calum says, both relief and fear spiking in his veins. “Mike, I’m sorry, I-”

“D’you mean it?”

“Mean wh- oh,” Calum says. “I- yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Say it.”

“Michael, I just-”

“Say it.” It’s softer this time, less insistent, a little more pleading. Calum swallows. Who is he to say no to Michael?

“I’m in love with you.”

There’s no cosmic shift this time, either. The clouds stay grey and the air stays cool, and Calum can still hear nothing but his own breathing, ragged and echoed down the phone line.

“Okay,” Michael says, carefully even.

“Okay?” Calum echoes, a little incredulously. “I just told you I’m in love with you.” The words don’t get any harder to say as he repeats them, nor any easier; they’re just there, as though they always have been.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“So?” Calum prompts.

“So what?”

“So, are you gonna say anything about it?”

“Yeah.” Calum waits. “Not here,” Michael adds, like he knows what Calum’s thinking, and then it clicks.

Michael’s coming back.

Well, of course Michael was going to come back - they have a tour to finish, don’t they - but he’s coming back for Calum.

“Okay,” Calum says. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll be five minutes.” Michael doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t hang up either, and Calum just stays on the other end of the line, listens as Michael’s breathing speeds up and as shoes hit pavement, letting his heart slow to the beat of Michael’s footsteps. It feels like two seconds and ten years have passed by the time he sees Michael rounding the corner, phone still in his hand, eyes automatically searching for Calum, and then Calum watches his step falter as he sees Calum slumped against the tour bus, sat on the floor.

“Hey,” he says, when he gets close enough, and hangs up.

“Hi,” Calum says, eyes following Michael as he hovers above Calum for a minute, and then sits down next to him. Their arms are pressed together, which is a good sign, but Michael doesn’t hold his hand out for Calum to take, which isn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Calum says, when Michael sits down. “I didn’t- like, I didn’t realise. I didn’t think. I should’ve known you wouldn’t do this with just anyone.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Michael says. “But I should’ve known you wouldn’t know. I should’ve told you.”

“I should’ve told you too,” Calum says. “I should’ve told you years ago.” Michael turns to look at him, a little bewildered, and Calum clarifies: “That I’m in love with you.”

“Oh,” Michael says, and turns away again. “Yeah. I should’ve told you that too.”

“You’re in love with me?” Michael turns to look at him again, a little incredulously.

“What the fuck do you think we’re talking about here?” he says. “‘Course I am.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Calum had sort of known it, as soon as he’d realised. He’d sort of known that it meant there was something soft and warm and cosy thrumming under the surface for Michael too, something that had only taken Calum until the age of seventeen to place as love. It’s different hearing it, though, different when Michael looks at him like he’s an idiot for not realising Michael’s in love with him, like it’s easy and simple and just something that is, no question of whether it should or shouldn’t be.

“I’m sorry I ran off,” Michael says quietly, and now he holds out his hand, and Calum almost wants to sigh in relief, but settles for threading his fingers through Michael’s and squeezing as hard as he can instead.

“Don’t be,” Calum says. He probably would have done the same in Michael’s place.

They sit in silence for a moment, staring out at the grey sky and the sliver of shimmering grey sea in the distance, and Calum counts Michael’s heartbeats as they pass against his fingers, one-two, one-two. The seagulls are still squawking, and the breeze is still cold, and Calum’s still in love with Michael. Nothing’s changed.

“Maybe we should kiss,” Michael suggests suddenly, and Calum turns to look at him, a little confused. “What?” Michael says, a little defensively. “Feels like the natural next step after admitting you’re in love, right?”

“Well, we kissed before we did that,” Calum points out.

“Okay, but we should still kiss now,” Michael says agreeably, and Calum hums.

“Yeah, probably,” he says, and Michael’s lips quirk up in a tiny grin, and Calum’s stomach bottoms out, all the panic and fear and anguish flooding out of him. It’s okay, he thinks, as he grins back and leans in, their heads tilting just the right amount at just the right angle as their lips touch, a well-worn move done by muscle memory, not by thought. Calum’s still smiling as they kiss, and it’s a little awkward, a little uncomfortable, but it’s okay, because it’s Michael. It’s always okay if it’s Michael.

He brings his hand up to cup Michael’s jaw, thumb stroking across the soft skin there, and Michael sighs, a content, happy little noise that goes straight to Calum’s heart, makes him smile back and kiss Michael a little slower, a little sweeter. Of course Michael’s in love with him, he thinks a little giddily, as Michael winds his fingers into the hair at the nape of Calum’s neck and pulls him closer. How could this ever be anything else?

The kiss isn’t new, and neither are the grey sky and the grey sea beyond them, nor the seagulls that circle them, squawking loudly and incessantly. It’s all familiar, known and comfortable, and Calum can’t help but breathe in the scent of the sea as he pulls away and rests his forehead against Michael’s, grinning at the softness - no, the love - in Michael’s eyes.

Nothing has changed.

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#malum #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos slash #ok if you saw this before it got formatted you didnt see it close your eyes #i put right here right now back on while manually backspacing all the line breaks #and meg goes for the love of god stop listening to right here right now its not good for you #looks like its back to oasis for me then its on megs orders #ALSO can you eblieve there is not ONE SINGLE mention of britpop in this fic <3 #it was hard but i did it for bella

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thedeviltohisangel · 4 years

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I Know It’s Too Late//1

There was something good about being with Jay. About being with Jay again. It was different than the good that was falling in love with him in the desert. That had been necessary for survival. It hadn’t been soft or romantic but raw. Like it was the most fundamental pieces of them that were coming together.

masterlist is my url/writing

let me know if you wish to see more of these two

She thinks that was why it didn’t work once they had returned home. There was less adrenaline and more time to be alone with their thoughts. It was hard enough as individuals to find a place back in society but as a pair it proved impossible. The shared experiences that had brought them together were ultimately what drove them apart.

Meg had heard that Chicago could be compared to a warzone. But she didn’t think she would ever be in the middle of it. She had taken the paramedic job as a way to escape. As a way to chase those happiest moments that she had had overseas. It was like an addict chasing their high. But she didn’t expect hers to come this close to killing her.

She and her partner had been called to an apartment where the person on the line suspected an overdose. Her neighbor was unconscious on the floor when she opened the door to leave and go grocery shopping. It was after Meg used the first dose of NARCAN that the shot rang out and the bullet whizzed above her head.

“Shit!” she cursed as she took a second to understand her surroundings. There was an open door a few feet away and that was the only semblance of cover she could see. “On my count, stay low and help me drag him over there.” Another shot rang out but Meg didn’t see the bullet this time. She counted to three before her partner lifted the patients feet while she dragged his torso towards the open apartment door.

“PD is on their way. Not sure how we get this guy out before the guy with the gun gets out,” her partner huffed. Meg peered out into the hallway but it was empty. The person pulling the trigger was behind one of the apartment doors.

“Well he should be waking up soon-” True to word, the man lying on the floor began to stir. “Sir, we are with the Chicago Fire Department. You overdosed on opioids and we administered NARCAN but recommend you go to the hospital for further treatment.” Meg had seen someone going through withdrawal before. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“I don’t need no fucking hosptal.” She moved backwards slightly as he began to appear agitated. There was then the sound of footsteps in the hallway then a door crashing down. “You called the police?” Before she could even answer, he was now pointing a gun at her.

“One of your neighbors took a shot at us. We didn’t think we had a choice if we wanted to get you out,” she said with her hands up.

“The police aren’t here for you, man. No need for that.” It was then that Meg heard the absolute last voice that she was expecting to.

“Chicago PD. Put the gun down and lets talk, Aidan.” Jay Halstead. She wanted to turn around and make sure her ears weren’t betraying her but she was scared to. What would she do if it was him? That almost seemed like the harder task than getting the gun out of her face.

“I’m not talking. How about I shoot her instead?” To be fair, it was not the first time she had a gun pressed to her skin. But it was the first time since she had become a mother. So it felt a little bit different than it had last time. She could feel the air stiffen around her as everyone in the room adjusted to the change in circumstance.

“Safety’s on,” Meg muttered as she took a second to focus. It wasn’t a bluff or attempt to distract him. He had actually left his safety on.

“What-” He pulled the gun from her in order to see if she was telling the truth, a look of confusion on his face, which she used as her opportunity to give him a piece of her mind. She swung her legs into his knees, which buckled, causing the gun to drop from his hand into her waiting one. When she turned to hand it to the cop behind her, she had forgotten her suspicion as to who it was.

“Meg?”

“Jay.” It came out in a breath. Saying his name was as natural as breathing. It settled in her chest like it was meant to and warmed her from the inside out.

“What are you doing here?” He relaxed his stance as other cops swarmed into the room and put handcuffs around the man on the floor and her partner got taken outside to be looked at for injuries.

“Well, I got called here,” she said while motioning to her uniform like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes.

“Sure. But why Chicago? Why now?”

“Why now? Is it a bad time?” He made it sound like something was going on in his life that her being here would complicate. Like she was doing this all on purpose.

“Just wasn’t expecting to see you again is all,” he said quietly as he offered his hand for the gun she was still holding.

“Yeah. Me neither.” She held his gaze as long as she could before someone called his name out in the hallway.

“Wait here. I’ll walk you down to get checked out.” Jay couldn’t stop himself. His hand moved without his knowledge and tucked some hair behind her ear before he pulled back like he had been burned. And it had felt like fire against her skin as well. White hot intensity that still lingered even after his hand was gone.

“I’m happy I was wrong,” she whispered in reference to their statements that they didn’t think they would see each other again.

“That’s a first,” he replied with a smirk. His conversation with Voight was quick, the sargeant noticing his detective’s eye drifting to the new paramedic in the other room more often than it was focusing on him.

“There something I need to be looped in on?” Jay was one of his best, a leader of the Intelligence Unit. If his mind was going to be elsewhere, Hank needed to know.

“We served together. Haven’t seen her in awhile is all.” Hank knew that wasn’t all, Jay knew that wasn’t all. But it was easier than trying to explain the history between the two. His relationship with Meg was tucked away with the rest of his stories and feelings from his time with the Rangers. Maybe one day.

They walked slowly and silently out of the apartment building and to the back of an ambulance so Meg could get her clean bill of health before returning back to her station. “That was smart what you did back there. With the safety being on,” Jay said as she took a seat on the bumper and he leaned next to her.

“Thanks. It all just comes back to me sometimes, you know? Like I never left and am still in it.” Jay nodded because he knew. And it was nice to hear someone say it out loud so he didn’t have to. Nice to know someone knew what he was going through without words. Nice to just be with Meg again. “You’re giving me that look, stop it,” she said as the paramedic took her vitals.

“The one where I ask if you want to get dinner with me tomorrow night?” he replied with a smirk.

“Good one. But I need at least a couple of days to get a babysitter.” That furrowed his brow.

“Babysitter?”

“Yeah. A lot has changed since the last time I saw you. Becoming a mother is the biggest one but also the best one.”

“You’re a mom, wow,” Jay said with a smile. “I bet you’re the fucking best one ever too.” There had been a time when he thought he would be the one to make her a mother.

“I try. Her dad is a piece of shit so I just need a bit more leeway on dinner but I’ll make it happen.”

“Okay. You let me know when you’re ready.” Something stirred at the idea that the father of her child was less than perfect but it wasn’t his place. He had a lot of questions but asking them wasn’t his place. Jay couldn’t just jump right back in and pretend everything was normal and always had been. There was a reason they weren’t together anymore.

“I will, Detective. Be safe until I see you again.” Meg was genuine with her words.

“You do the same.” Last time Jay had watched her walk away from him, his heart shattered into a million pieces. This time, it felt like everything was coming back together.

#jay halstead #chicago pd #halstead #jesse lee soffer #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction

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seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana · 4 years

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@catlovingwitch asked me why Diego was my favorite character and I decided to make a post about it :)). And @megatraven LOOK!! I was able to be like you and made a whole post about why I love Diego and this isn’t even all of it either. And if anyone wanna asks me why I love my favorites, then ask me again and I’ll say why! Even if it’s Diego bc I have more to say!!

WELL!! It’s hard to explain why. I haven’t played him in awhile bUTTT IDK WHY FNWBE. I just love him so much. It’s the way that even when he and MC are strangers, he cares for her. Ik he’s a doctor and he’s supposed to care but he wasn’t on duty and didn’t have to care. He doesn’t pry, even if MC does sometimes, AND he feels remorse PLUS he actually does enjoy being a doctor. Not just to do good but also because he enjoys helping people!

The way he puts his doctors coat on MC when she’s sleeping in the bowling alley. He didn’t have to do that, but he did. He put it in her so she would be comfortable while sleeping. He let her sleep in his bed and he may have been a little rude with his responses about “does this look like a bed and breakfast?” But he still offered her comfort and ordered her food and didn’t really judge her for it bc it was a pizza. He worried for her before they became a couple. He’s strong and doesn’t like to show it often because he doesn’t want to hurt people and that’s so sweet. He doesnt take blood from people themselves because he sees it as wrong. He takes her when she wanted to see Victor and when she broke down about Grace, he didn’t judge her. He just held her softly and said “it’s okay. You have to get it out.” And he just held her gently and let her cry because he knows she needs it and because he cares about her.

When he kissed her and noticed his fangs were coming out, he noticed it immediately and stopped because he can’t hurt her. He wouldn’t forgive himself. I bet it was tempting but he couldn’t do it. And when he found out that Victor found her, HE LOST IT ON HIM!! The kind and patient man lost his control on Victor because someone he began to love is in danger and he can’t let her get hurt because of him. I haven’t played him in awhile but I believe he kinda pushes her away at times, but it’s not because he’s angry but it’s because he doesn’t know what to do.

He’s new to this. He hasn’t loved someone romantically in a LONG time so it’s hard to know what to do. PLUS, he doesn’t want to turn her into a vampire because he’d worried about her and doesn’t want her to regret anything. He just wants her happy and tries to teach her about EVERYTHING. Whenever Dracula is coming for him and her, he protects her and is literally like “she is my lover and you WILL treat her with respect.” He was a little afraid of Dracula but he wasn’t afraid to say that he loves MC and will make her be respected.

And when Antonio is like “leave her” Diego is just saying “NO.” The game made it seem like he would, but he couldn’t. He loves her so much and asks her to go with him because he wants to protect her. He doesn’t do the thing where they break up and he disappeares. He took her with him and swore to protect her and it’s just so sweet to me. He loves her and can’t leave her alone. And when he sees Eva again, he notices MCs problem and he’s like “oh, sweetie,” and doesn’t call her ridiculous for her jealousy and worry but comforts her and is saying “I love you and no one can take that love away from me.” AND OH GOD,,

When she was thrown off the roof made me love him more. One of the wives had MC by her neck and Diego is PANICKING. He loves her. He can’t lose her. “Please let her go,” he says trying to make a deal, willing to lose himself, but she drops and he screams. He screams like he is dying because he most likely is. He tells her, “I don’t know what I would do in a life without you in it,” OR SOMETHING ALONG THOSE LINES. HE CANT LOSE HER BUT NEVER FORCES HIS DESIRES ON HER. And when they’re fighting the wife, you can tell Diego is going at it. She just DARED to hurt his lover and he’s not letting her get away with it. He only lets her go bc MC is sick and needs care. AND THATS WHEN HE TELLS HER HE CANT BE WITHOUT HER IN THE HOTEL. HE LOVES HER SO MUCH!!

And when she got stabbed by Dracula, Diego saw it and witness it happen. He saw the claws go through her back and heard as she screamed. She was dying but he ran with her. He ran for somewhere safe for her. Somewhere where he could hold her. And he realizes he has to turn her. He’s worried for her. His desires of wanting her to live by his side is still pushed aside because he can’t force this on her and is like “Don’t ruin your life for someone else’s happiness” telling her that she doesn’t have to do this!! He will be so sad, probably depressed for eternity, but he can’t force her to do anything because he loves her. And when he turns her he helps her with everything!! Teaches her, comforts her, tells her it’s okay, and even when he pushes her away you know he misses her.

He loves her so much and is so in love that he doesn’t think about himself sometimes. He thinks of her and tries to make sure he isn’t forcing her to do something. He just loves her,,,so much,,and he cares for her and when he’s controlled by Dracula, the most powerful vampire, MC snaps him out of it and he realizes and he loves her so much that he snapped out of it for a moment. His pupils become so wide because Diego is telling himself to STOP. He’s looking at the love of his life and he CANT DO THIS. HE CANT HURT HER. HE WONT HURT HER!!

And away from MC, he cares for everyone! Even JD!! They don’t always get along but he cares and makes sure JD is happy too. Like when JD is missing because of their father, Diego comforts MC and is saying that it’s okay and does his hardest to help everyone!

And my favorite moment of Diego out of his own route, is in Razis route when Baba Yaga (is that her name?? I forgot) has Razis bottle and MC is having nightmares from the laylines, and Diego watches over her. It’s his turn because everyone have shifts, yet he doesn’t stay in the hallway when she wakes up. He comes in, eyes filled with concern and scaring her for a moment, but he apologizes and calms her down and he sits in front of her and says he’ll stay until she goes to sleep. He tucks her back into bed (which is so wholesome of Diego...), and stays for a moment, and MC breaks down. She’s crying and is scared to show it because she doesn’t like to, but once again, Diego doesn’t judge her. He leans in and hugs her to his side. He wanted to make sure she knows she’s loved. That it’s okay to feel sad and show it and say how much he cares for Razi. And he’s like “I’m Razi’s friend and I’m yours as well, you know that, right?” Stating that he cares for her and MAKING SURE SHE KNOWS!! He just cares for her and Razi so much and will make sure she’s safe. And whenever she goes to bed and they wake up in the morning, Diego doesn’t say a word about her red eyes. He keeps it between him and her and I feel like he would comfort her more if she needed it,,,

Mackenzie and Razi are his best friends and he WILL make sure they’re okay. When Mackenzie is hurt in her route he rushes over and is like “don’t you die on me Mackenzie!” And when Razi is hurt in his route, he reacts immediately and helps him as best as he can. He goes to New York in an AFK special to help someone, in Dukes route it’s stated that he loves his wife (who is MC) and watches movies with her every Friday even if he finds them a little ridiculous!!

He wanted to give her The wedding SHE desired, he offered to help Antonio and he cared about him even when Antonio was being basically a little BIH. He cares for everyone and how can’t I love someone like that? And in JDs route when they’re in hell and he’s being controlled, he almost bites MC but gets it under control and he apologizes to her after it and feels truly guilty. He cares and he spreads that love to everyone he knows (and everyone he doesn’t) and how can’t I love him?

How can I not fall for this vampire who cares for his wife, his friends, Antonio who is almost like his brother because they want to kill each other, AND THE WORLD!! HE LOVES ALMOST EVERYONE!! Anyways, that’s a little as to why I love Diego and there’s so much more,,,I said what he did because it’s why I love him. His actions are why I love him and I hope I said it all correctly here in this Chili’s tonight. And Meg I wanted you to see this too bc I’m becoming like you but instead of Alex it’s Diego (I still love the posts of why you love Alex. They’re adorable and wholesome,,,).

If y’all want more reasons tell me bc I hAVE A TON!! AND FOR OTHER CHARACTERS!! IM UP FOR QUESTIONS FOR EVERYONE I LOVE!! ASK ME ANYONE THATS ON MY WHO I WRITE FOR!! I’m always up for talking about my babes😌.

Some proofreading but I may have gotten stuff wrong bc I got homework to do,,,

#lovestruck #my writing #havenfall is for lovers #Havenfall is for lovers Diego #diego escalona #hifl #thank you for the ask in DMs. I just couldn’t explain it all in a DM conversation so I HAD to show it in here. I hope you like it :))).#I love Diego SO MUCHHH #he’s just amazing and deserves love in this world GUYYYSSS

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canarhys · 5 years

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valdangelo headcanons

hey guys. so... i reached 500 followers last night. and i’m really happy that you fuckers can deal with my dumbass posts because jesus, i never thought i’d get this far.

so in return for the amount of souls i have stocked up, i have redone the valdangelo headcanons i did for 100 followers a long time ago.

let’s fucking go.

• the two of them are meant for each other simply for the fact that nico sleeps all the time and eats so much junk food he has cavities while leo hasn’t slept for an entire month and hasn’t eaten in three days.

• they don’t like grand, fancy dates and instead go for drives through the city at night and hang outs at a fast food joint. (“nico stop saying mcdonald’s we’ve been eating there for the past week i’m starting to hallucinate ronald mcdonald.”)

• they don’t show much affection in public. usually it’s just hand-holding (it’s basically their second nature) and cheek kisses but when alone they’re touch-starved and cuddle all the fucking time.

• they play video games together obviously. when they compete (say, mario kart), it’s a ruckus because they’re both equally good so the entire camp watches and places bets because it’s so intense. when they play together, it’s usually nico on his nintendo 3ds playing pokémon with leo resting his head on his shoulder, making jokes and occasional pointers.

• i’m all for the idea that they two of them could hold conversations without even talking. nico and leo share a look, nod, and somehow they know what the other is implying. it’s insane.

• they get matching tattoos not just because it’s a couple thing but because it’s fun. they decide to get star tattoos on their ankles.

• nico: lend me a hand.

• leo: throws his prosthetic arm to him

• nico: thanks.

• i just love the thought of them having such funny ass laughs. nico cackles and it almost resembles a wicked witch. leo wheezes like a balloon losing air. also nico slaps people whenever he laughs while leo is stuck in a position for a fucking hour.

• and i just imagine when one is laughing the other is silently watching them with an adoring smile. despite the fact that the one laughing looks so fucking stupid.

• when they laugh at the same time it sounds like a hospital delivery room, ngl.

• they argue all the time but it’s over stupid shit like which superhero wins or who can be the most edgy/annoying. it’s all playful banter but it goes on for hours on end and everyone is about to kick them out.

• they’re fucking dorks; they watch jojo’s bizarre adventure and binge stupid instagram videos and recreate tik toks that are somehow worse than the original.

• they can’t give each other flowers because nico always ends up with lifeless, drooping ones and leo somehow manages to set all of them on fire so they just pack snacks and lunches for each other.

• they have to coax each other into taking care of themselves because they’re self-destructive little shits. nico often drags leo to bed when he’s working on a project. leo cooks nico healthy foods and forces him to brush his teeth. when one of them is sick, the other is by their side all the time.

• they share earbuds a lot. they both really like the arctic monkeys, they’re basically their soul band and whenever one of them is listening to them, the other senses it and immediately grabs the bud out of the other’s ear.

• i like the thought of them trying to be like buzzfeed unsolved and recording videos of themselves strolling through haunted houses and searching for cryptids but it would be so... disastrous.

• nico, playing don’t mine at night on a stereo at goatman’s bridge: come out, bitch.

• goatman: i’m fucking begging you to stop.

• leo, recording: fucking wheezing

• or they would try to be like game grumps and record themselves playing retro games like donkey kong or sonic but it also yields some fucked up results.

• leo, playing sonic adventure dx with tears in his eyes: screaming at the tv and trying not to have a nervous breakdown because the game is so fucking bad his brain functions have gone haywire

• nico: laughing so hard he knocked over twelve vases on the table

• they call each other by their last names a lot. it used to be an insult when they were arguing a lot back then, but now they use it as fun little nicknames with mild malice (unless one of them fucked up).

• they also have some personal ones for each other! nico calls leo “firebug” and “bombshell” and leo calls nico “sunshine” and “angel.” (they totally call each other “amor” and “bébé” as well.)

• they have small picnic dates at the strawberry fields in camp since leo loves strawberries to death and nico likes seeing leo’s adorable face as he eats them. usually they eat those along with chocolate dip and some milkshakes.

• leo has tried to teach nico how to cook in the past but it resulted in the inflammation of the argo ii’s kitchen and buford sending nico angry “glares” due to leo having to scrub off all the excess smog off of him.

• leo buys nico a fuck ton of hawaiian shirts as a joke but nico had worn all of them in less than a month and rocked all of them. leo now has taken the duty of buying as many as he can because damn, if his boyfriend didn’t look so cute.

• the two of them wear each other’s clothes all the time. leo uses the excuse “i’m cold” in order to achieve nico’s jacket or sweater. nico has started using it as well and leo hands him his hoodie or mittens. it’s cute.

• also i love the idea of them either wearing complementary clothing or drastically different ones, with no in-between. one day leo is wearing a soft rainbow-striped shirt under some overalls while nico wears a floral striped hawaiian tee, the next nico is in all black and leo is wearing a neon green jumpsuit. everyone gets whiplash from it.

• i feel like after the giant war and during apollo’s mortal quest, they go with him to indiana to search for meg. and they find themselves at the waystation and after the entire commodus fiasco, the two of them decide to stay and live there. both of them are going to visit chb in the summer but they like the thought of having normal lives and being normal teenagers, plus jo and emmie basically adopted them into the family and all of the kids there love them (especially georgina).

• at camp, they usually hang out in bunker nine or the hades cabin since both of them don’t like crowds and get overwhelmed by them. also they talk about conspiracy theories all the fucking time.

• leo: what if... in a parallel universe... we were straight...?

• nico: holy shit.

• they’re such horror movie fanatics. leo’s favorite is texas chainsaw massacre and nico has a heart for alien. both of them have confirmed that killer clowns from outer space is the best horror movie of all time and have watched it exactly thirty-six times.

• they both had serious discussions of which horror tropes their friends are. they are still categorizing to this day.

• nico: piper would be a final girl, that’s clear. what about jason?

• leo: first one who dies. that fucker is literally dead and hanging in a hotel.

• i also think the two of them love horror/thriller shows. stranger things, tales from the crypt, ash vs. evil dead. especially ash vs. evil dead. leo literally dressed up as ash for halloween, chainsaw hand and everything. nico, in turn, dressed up as a deadite.

• speaking of halloween, it’s like the culmination of their entire beings. because they both a) like dressing up, b) like free food, c) love halloween decor and shit, and d) love seeing each other’s happy faces during the holiday.

• both of them are incredibly dedicated to it, wearing black and orange and hanging up the majority of the decorations around camp. they buy the candy, organize the activities, and take a roll of what campers are dressing as so if someone is worried that they’ll have the same costume as another person, they can check with them. percy says they should get married on halloween just because they’re that into it.

• both of them hyper-fixate a lot. leo gets so invested in a project that he forgets to eat or sleep or even acknowledge anyone else around him, so nico makes sure to not disturb him unless it’s time for lunch or bed. he wraps his arms around leo as he works and buried his face in the crook of his neck and leo always smiles.

• leo does the same for nico, as the guy is incredibly invested in nerdy things that he tries not to tell anyone lest they make fun of him. so leo lets his boyfriend infodump as they lay in bed together, stroking his dark wavy hair and watching nico’s mouth move and continue to describe a dnd campaign he’s been watching recently. leo has to use all his will to stop him and get him to brush his teeth.

• they’re not really much to make future plans as they’re pretty pessimistic about everything due to their pasts but one day they found themselves discussing about getting an apartment or even a house together. leo said he’ll probably open a garage if they become the next caretakers of the waystation or even get a house and ask annabeth to help with the design. nico joked that they could have a floral shop there too since they’re both bad with flowers. and suddenly the conversation shifted to them planning a round-trip across the world on festus and one of them mentioned “kids.” then the two realized what they were doing and stopped, albeit hesitantly.

• i love the idea of persephone being a total mom to them (i don’t care about canon, she loves hades children no matter that her husband cheated) and having garden parties with them down in the underworld. she started teaching them how to take care of flowers better — which was sort of relevant since nico brought up the flower shop at home thing — and soon their blossoms almost stopped wilting or catching on fire.

• persephone: hey, you guys want some pomegranate?

• leo: yeah s—

• nico: n o w e ‘ r e g o o d .

• persephone wasn’t trying to trap leo in the underworld but nico couldn’t take chances.

• leo’s pretty good with instruments because of tool proficiency and is a master at the drums and guitar. nico actually has a nice singing voice and recently got into guitar as well, so you bet your ass that they have jam sessions constantly.

• leo is the gay that can drive while nico should not be within a steering wheel in any circumstance, so leo usually drives them to their dates. that, or they enlist the help of nico’s zombie chauffeur to drive them there.

• both of them share this soft and tender expression with each other that they don’t express towards other people, not even their other friends. it’s sort of like a face saved for them, for their little world and it’s cute.

• nico is way more touchy than leo and likes to wrap his arms around leo’s waist a lot. he often peppers his face with kisses and shit and leo gets really shy about it. when this happens, he nuzzles his face into nico’s shoulder or chest to stop his boyfriend but nico is resilient.

• i just... love valdangelo being so soft towards each other. every single banter they have they do with heart eyes and they usually just cuddle in content silence because they’re not big on talk, communicating better by actions. when they kiss, it’s like a perfect mix because nico is cold while leo is warm. they often lay in bed, smiling as their limbs are tangled together. maybe they’ll start up another conversation or game file. but for now, they like the quiet.

#pjo #nico di angelo #leo valdez #valdangelo #headcanons #home depot intercom #follower milestone #thank you guys!!

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mustangshelby04 · 4 years

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Boston Boy - Marriage Advice

This is just me being a little catty towards a certain ex while giving you guys more looks at our favorite couple’s married life.

Kate played another round of peek-a-boo with her and Chris’ nine-month-old daughter. They were in LA for the premiere of Gifted, Chris’ movie that he had been filming when he and Kate met. He had been super nostalgic over this press tour. When he had filmed Ellen the day before, he had actually opened up to her about what it was like being a newlywed and new father to their daughter. It had made Kate tear up.

Her excitement was through the roof for today, though. After the premiere, she and Chris were taking Madison over to Twitch and Allison’s house for dinner. Twitch had remembered their talk from the year before and had invited them as soon as they had walked into the studio.

“Kate, we need to get you dressed and finished, babe.” Jenn said, walking over to Kate and making faces at Madison.

“Ok.” Her hair was up in rollers, but her makeup had been done already. “Mom!”

“On it!” Helena came in and took Kate’s seat while her daughter kissed Madison’s cheek and went back to the master bedroom.

Chris was working on tying his tie and Kate nodded appreciatively. “That suit is going to look so good on you, baby.” She said.

“Not half as good as you will in that dress.” He winked and she grinned. Jenn made a gagging sound as she grinned at the couple and got to work on Kate’s hair. “Seriously, Jenn, this dress is gorgeous.” Chris ran a hand over the forest green fabric of the A-line, deep V-neck dress with a beautiful train and a high slit.

“I thought it would accentuate her hourglass figure and show off her amazing shoulders and legs.” Jenn said. “Seriously, Kate, you have amazing shoulders and legs.”

“Thank you.” Kate said, blushing. “What shoes did you choose?”

“The nude Filamenta strappy Louboutin sandals.”

“I love you.”

“You get to keep them.”

“Oh my god, marry me?”

Jenn laughed as Chris whipped around. “Um….” He held his hands out in a clear what-the-fuck motion.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be a legal marriage, but Jenn and I are going to have the ceremony. I need to lock her down for life.”

“I’d be honored, babe.” Jenn said.

“Six months in and she’s already moving on to a second marriage.” Chris muttered playfully.

“Ok, go finish getting dressed out there so I can finish getting your wife ready.”

Thirty minutes later, Kate walked out looking like an old Hollywood goddess. She had added some baby-lights to her hair recently to make it a tad bit blonder at Jenn’s insistence. She had been right, of course. The baby-lights looked really good with her porcelain skin and it really popped with the long beach waves that Jenn had done with her hair tonight.

Chris let out a long, low whistle when he saw her. He was holding Madison and looked at the baby with a grin. “Your mom looks gorgeous, huh?”

“I can agree with that assessment.” Helena said, situating her daughter’s train. “But I’ve always thought that.”

Megan walked into the room from Chris’ office. “Good. We need to get moving. We’re going to be running late if we don’t leave now.”

“That was my fault.” Kate said. “I wanted to feed Maddie before we left.”

“It’s ok.” Megan made a beeline for the door.

“Mom….”

“We’ll be fine here.” Helena said, taking Madison from Chris. “I’ll see you later. Have fun.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The premiere for Gifted wasn’t nearly as large as the Civil War premiere. It was much more chill in comparison. Kate felt a lot more at ease and she and Chris posed happily together. The press asked Chris questions about his marriage and baby, even directing questions at Kate herself. Megan was great at helping Kate navigate the press. They stood together while Chris took pictures with the cast and director.

“Is that Jenny Slate?” Kate asked Megan.

“In the floral dress, yeah.” Megan confirmed.

“Hmm….”

“What?”

“I’m not a jealous person by nature, but I don’t like how she’s pawing or looking at my husband.” Megan looked a little nervous. “Meg?”

“Before Chris met you, he and Jenny were very flirtatious.”

“Huh.”

“What ‘huh’?”

“Just…. Huh.” Kate never let her smile waver. She knew the cameras were always watching.

“She’s married.”

“So is he, but that’s not stopping her from trying to flirt with him.”

“She’s not doing anymore press for the movie with him after this. He’s strictly with McKenna and Octavia.”

“Good.”

Megan grinned at Kate and Kate laughed slightly. Chris came over and took Kate’s hand. They finished walking the press line and headed into the theatre. “What were you and Megan talking about?”

“You and Jenny Slate.”

“Really?”

“She said you two were really flirty before we met.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess, but she’s married. I wouldn’t ever….”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“Come on, Chris. Are you completely blind? That woman was all over you.”

“For pictures.” Kate rolled her eyes at her husband. “Kat, seriously…. She’s a nice person.”

“I love you, but you are such a dude!”

“What?”

“Chris!” McKenna Grace came bouncing up and tugged on Chris’ arm. “Is this her?” The little girl’s eyes looked up at Kate excitedly.

“Yeah, McKenna, this is Kate.” Chris said with a big smile. “Kate, this is McKenna.”

“I’m so excited to finally meet you!” McKenna wrapped her arms around Kate’s waist. “Chris came back to set and he just couldn’t stop talking about you. You really are the prettiest!”

Kate laughed. “Thank you! He told me a lot about you, too. I’m really excited to see you in the movie.”

“You are?!”

“I am! Chris couldn’t say enough good things about you.”

“Chris!” McKenna giggled shyly which made Chris laugh. “Kate, you look really pretty. I love your dress.”

“Thank you so much. I love your dress, too. The sparkles are really cool.”

“Thank you!” McKenna’s mother called her over. “I have to go to my mom. I hope you like the movie.”

“I’m sure I will. It was lovely to meet you.” McKenna hugged Kate again before running off. “She is just the sweetest thing.”

“So, I’m such a dude?” Chris asked, steering the conversation back to before McKenna came over.

“Yes. Right now, it means that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that someone is hitting on you.”

“I swear she’s not….”

“She totally was.” Megan said, coming over.

“You’re ganging up on me?”

“Of course we are. Seriously, Chris, watch out for Jenny. She’ll get you in trouble.” Chris threw his arms up in defeat. “Ok, let’s head into the theatre. They’re going to do introductions after the movie.”

As they headed for their assigned seats, Chris looked down at Kate. “I wouldn’t ever pursue her.”

“I know.” Kate said, squeezing his hand. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“Do you want me to say something to her?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Chris helped Kate situate her dress as she sat down before he sat beside her. “Are you planning something?”

“Nope.”

“Kat….”

Kate chuckled and leaned over to kiss her husband, running her fingers along his neck in the way she knew he liked. He shuddered in pleasure and she grinned against his lips. When they broke apart, Kate directed her gaze right at Jenny as she made her way to the seats behind Chris and Kate. She gave Kate a tight grin before sitting down.

“That suit really does look amazing on you.” Kate said, adjusting Chris’ tie as she crossed her legs, using the slit to expose one of them from mid-thigh down.

Chris didn’t miss the bare leg. He reached out and ran his hand along her knee and thigh. “I really love this dress.”

“Me too, but it’s a rental.”

“Can I buy it for you so you can just wear it around the house?”

Kate laughed. “I love you, you big dork.”

“I love you, too.” He leaned over and kissed her again.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate stood with Chris at the afterparty. McKenna wasn’t there, but the rest of the cast and crew were. Chris had proudly introduced her to everyone. Octavia had given Kate the warmest hug and then Kate had promptly expressed her admiration for the actress. The two women had talked about growing up in the South and even picked on Chris for being a ‘damn Yankee. He jokingly took offense to that and corrected them by saying he’s a “diehard Red-Sox fan and don’t forget it.”

Chris looked down at his watch. “We need to leave soon if we’re going to make it home to pick up Maddie and head over to Twitch and Allison’s house.”

“Ok.” Kate took a sip of her champagne and set it down on a nearby table. “I need to pee.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

When Kate walked out of the bathroom, she rolled her eyes. Jenny hadn’t come near her or Chris since the movie had ended. She’d had to watch the couple make doe eyes at each other throughout the film. Chris had kissed Kate’s hand or temple constantly and wrapped her in his arms when she had cried. Now Jenny had slunk over when Kate hadn’t been near Chris.

Poor Chris looked super uncomfortable and his eyes brightened when he spotted his wife walking up behind Jenny. Kate purposely slid between Jenny and her husband, kissing Chris for good measure, and then smiling brightly when he wrapped his arm tightly around her. She finally turned and acknowledged Jenny.

“Hi, we haven’t met. I’m Kate Evans, Chris’ wife and the mother of his daughter.” Kate said, not offering her hand.

“I heard you got married, Chris.” Jenny squawked.

“I did. We got married in October.”

“I bet you looked so handsome.”

“He did.” Kate snapped.

“My wife looked so much better than I ever could.” Chris said.

“Our daughter kind of stole the show, though.”

“She did! That little dress you chose was too cute on her.”

“Thank you, baby.” Kate kissed him quickly. “We need to get going.”

He looked at his watch.“Oh shit! We do. I’ll grab Megan and let her know we need the car pulled around.”

“Ok.” Kate watched Chris rush off and she looked at Jenny. “Look, if you’re not happy in your marriage, leave it. But stay away from my husband. He’s quite happy in his marriage.”

“I….” Jenny started.

“Save it. I know about the flirtatious banter before Chris and I met. I don’t care about that. I care about you flirting with him now. I care about you putting your hands on my husband where they don’t belong.”

“Babe!” Chris called, waving her over.

“If you’re not happy, find a way to get happy. Talk to your husband and stay away from mine. Have a nice life.” Kate gave Jenny a sarcastic smile as she walked to catch up with Chris.

“What did you say?” Chris asked, wrapping his arm around her waist and glancing at Jenny’s stunned face.

“Oh, I was just giving her some marriage advice.” Kate smiled up at Chris. “I think we’re doing well enough that I can dole some out.”

He eyed her for a moment, but relented when she kept her smile at him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. Now let’s go get our baby and hang out with some new friends!” Kate kissed him as they walked through the exit doors together.

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