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somerandomdere · 14 days

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Yandere! actor x crew member! g/n reader

tags: fluff, slight? yandere themes (duh), you can tell I don't know much about how hollywood scandal works, it's my first fic pls feedback

Fame was everything to Gabriel, it's been his whole life. He was a nepo baby, he has seen the cameras the moment he was born. Blessed with a good face, filthy rich parents, and a flirtatious personality, he was everything ladies wanted in a man.

Until everything came crashing down.

He got into a huge scandal he wasn't even aware of. He was accused of sexually harassing a fellow co actress, when in fact he never laid a finger on her. Sure, he was a well known celebrity and has a history of sleeping around, but that doesn't mean he will force himself on someone without consent!

The scandal got so big he was defamed everywhere. His sponsors withdrew, his parents and friends wanted to cut ties with him, and his girlfriend cussed him out before leaving.

It wasn't him! But at this point, no one believed in him. He started being depressed, having suicidal thoughts, and contemplating on quitting his dream career.

Enter you. Beautiful, radiant you.

After a long day of carrying heavy sets and helping out around the set. You were exhausted, so you went out to breathe some fresh air and smoke. As you lit up your cigarette, the main actor of your current show, Gabriel, seemed to be crying. You wanted to smoke, but you couldn't just leave a crying man alone! and you did want some privacy while taking a puff

"Hey... you alright?" You genuinely asked.

You didn't know much about Gabriel's scandal, since you weren't very interested in the affairs of celebrities and thought that fans should just mind their own business.

And you were just here to make extra money, what's the worst that could happen? You'll be gone in no time anyways. He'll just quickly forget you.

"Hey um..." You started awkwardly, and cleared your throat. "I may not be the best person that can comfort, but you can talk to me. I'll listen."

You thought he would be suspicious of you, because of his celebrity status, but he ranted to you and cried. How he was misunderstood. How the people closest to him never believed in him. How he felt so hopeless after he lost everything.

You reached out to touch his hand. You let him know you understood. How painful this period of life will be and how it will all be fine after.

You told him to take a look around him. Look through a different scope, see the people who actually cares for him. You told him how your uncle never believed any of those rumors and took advantage of this to hire him.

He teared up, not from self pity this time, but from realisation. Maybe he should abandon those people who never saw his true self anyways. For the first time, he looked into your eyes. The sunlight danced over your eyes, it reminded him of the warmth his parents used to give him, before they got too busy.

Maybe that's when he fell for you. He couldn't really point out when he fell head over heels, but he can kinda figure he feelings sprouted here.

He came back, stronger than ever. His acting caused your uncle's movie grossing to skyrocket. It hit the box office, everyone was talking about his movie through social media, how he so accurately acted his role, to the point they shivered. He decided to take this opportunity to clear his name. Due to the how overwhelmingly successful his new movie was, people decided to believe him.

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

"Y/N! My name was cleared!" He squealed into the phone. You sincerely felt happy for him and offered to celebrate with him.

He wouldn't let this opportunity go without a waste! He immediately said yes. He wanted to see your beautiful face again, and finally ask you out.

He will finally be yours, and you will finally be his.

@hana-no-seiiki

@lovverletters

@moyazaika

@yxami

@mightypossibly

@suiana

My inspos on how to write fics (and my fav fic writers!) PLS PLS PLS PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACKKK

#male yandere #male yandere cafe #yandere actor #gn reader #yandere celebrity x gn reader #first post #idk what else to tag #i'm actually shaking

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damfinofanfiction · 3 years

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Chapter 14: Hollywood or Bust...er.

Here’s the full and a update to the latest chapter! Just to let you know, having outlined the story for a while, things will get romantic in chapter 16 and will get naughty in chapter 20!!! I don't know if Chapter 14′s good enough but I did my best. Enjoy!

Another note is at the end of the chapter.

As stated in the article of a Local Paper; Five people hurt in a car crash. Two women and three men were involved in a low-rate car crash when they were driving from the Biltmore Hotel for the party in honor of Mack Sennett. There were no fatalities but there were some minor bruises and concussions. Ralph F. Staub, the driver of a T- Ford who suffered a broken nose, blamed the incident on bit player and former Sennett Bathing Beauty Gayle Anders for distracted driving. As a result of the impact, Miss Anders was reported to have injured her arm. While the others had slightly recovered and have been sent home, Anders will be on the mend for weeks following a release from the Good Samaritan Hospital this morning. Her recent project is Harold Lloyd’s upcoming film, The Freshman, due to be out this September. She remains hopeful to be back in the movies after her arm is fully recovered.

Having read this in his office, Buster shook his head in pity, with a notion that she might be unable to work with him. “Oh, Gail.”

**************************

Just as the evening began, Sally ran out of the Bungalow with the burning Trout on the casserole dish. Gail aired out the smoke by opening the windows. As a last resort, she threw the fish from the dish on the ground and used the gravel dug from the area to extinguish the small flames.

“Damn it,” Sally said examining the crisp charred remains after putting it out. She turned to her friend, “Sorry Bae, guess I underestimated the baking time.”

Gail added disappointedly, "And it was a nice fish."

Since Gail came home from the hospital, it wasn’t easy for her to live with a broken humerus. Sally offered to help on the days it doesn’t intervene with her job. Not only the blonde did it out of loyalty but also as a amend to what happened last month.

Upon going inside, Sally threw away the ruined casserole dish and comforted Gail who hunched in despair, “Buck up, We’ll still have dinner. If only Auntie isn’t out playing bridge and Bertha didn’t take a day off.” Bertha, that she referred to was her and Lenore’s Maid.

When the Friends decided on take-out, Sally left to pick up the food while Gail stayed behind because she didn't feel comfortable going out in her state. As the table was already set in advance, the dark-haired woman was left to retreat to her couch and wrapped herself in a blanket because she felt a breeze from the open window.

Gail wasn't feeling herself after the accident in the past week. It was like grief. She barely slept the night, has a small appetite, doesn't smile much, and doesn't say much. Although she has endured a series of unfortunate events for the last few months, breaking her arm was difficult to cope with. Gail tried to sob and cry to let it out of her system, but couldn't do it. That didn't stop her from trying again while she was alone.

Her attempts to release her emotions were interrupted when she noticed a shadow passing by from the front window, "Sal?" she called.

A male baritone voice replied, “Close enough.”

She sat up straight when he swayed to the window, revealing his familiar face, “Buster!”

He chuckled while resting his arms on the windowsill, “Good seeing you too. You seem well.”

Gail would ask him how did he found her site but remembered she had sent him an updated resume with a change of address recently. She nervously said, "I didn't expect you to show up."

He sighed, “I know, I should have told you I was coming, but work was finished early and I thought you could go for a surprise.” Gail found it funny that the last time she had seen him was when he rode with her so she could get home safely and now he was at her window unannounced. He asked, “So are you going to let me in or should I climb through the window?”

“Oh!” She hastily sat up and opened the door and let Keaton in to avoid being mistaken for a break-in if he had entered through the window. After having received flowers and get-well cards from friends and family, she was grateful for a visitor. When she opened the door, he was wearing a hazel suit with a white buttoned shirt underneath and a grey flat cap. He coughed in response to the smoke when he was in a kitchen area.

“Sorry, Sally burnt our dinner.” She explained while closing the door and the window curtains, “She had doused the fire out on the yard.”

“That explains the black mark out on the yard,” he pulled out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket to cover his mouth.

Gail retreated to her bedroom where she traded the blanket for her light blue buttoned sweater while Buster looked around. She called to him, “I guess you must have read about the accident in the papers?”

He responded, “Yes, though they didn’t get your name right.”

Gail intended to write a note to Buster about what happened to her but didn’t have any idea what to say as evidence of the trash bin full of the crumpled-up papers by her bed. “Well, the reporter was in a rush and didn’t have time to correct my name anyhow.”

Then Gail checked herself in the mirror. Her sleeveless day dress was alright. The curls on her locks were uneven, but she didn't mind because he had seen her unkempt hair on the train. Her makeup wasn’t too bad either, grateful that Sally had helped her earlier that day, otherwise, she couldn't do it with one arm. She only reapplied her lipstick before returning to the comedian.

“So this must be your new home,” Buster said as he sat on the armchair while she returned to her couch.

“I came across it in a newspaper. I found the name of the street familiar because I used to go around looking for a part in the pictures.”

“Had the others moved here as well?” he asked.

“No, just me. Sally’s only a helper. She tried her best and I’m grateful for that." Gail turned to the door, “Now I'm worried how she'll react to you once she gets back.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

She leaned towards him, “No no no, unless you have to go home.”

“No, I could stay for a bit at least before your other friend arrives.” it was then Gail noticed that her sling and cast were exposed from her opened sweater and tugged it back in due to her insecurity. From the look on Buster's face, it was obvious he had seen it before, no doubt from peeping at her while she was in the other room, “How long until your arm gets better?”

She was nervous to tell him but does so anyway, “If healed properly, the cast will be removed in a month. I may still wear a sling in addition to physical therapy."

“I’m awfully sorry that happened to you. At least it isn't the ankle.”

“Oh yeah, it happened to you.” Gail had almost forgotten of his injury some years ago before he brought it up.

“How could I forget?” He rested his foot to his knee to massage that very ankle, “There’s a scene from The Electric House where I ran on the moving staircase. That one step caught my slap shoe and before the stagehands could turn off the switch, my foot was dragged to the top, and the next thing I knew, my ankle was fractured.”

“That’s sounded awful,” Her voice was sympathetic.

“Yes, it was. I thought I was going to lose my foot, but thankfully I haven’t. Had to be out of commission for several weeks. They put me on bed rest, at least you can still move around. So anyway, long after my ankle is healed, we threw out the footage and started over.”

“When do you start filming?” What Gail knew from what he wrote to her weeks ago was that the production of Battling Butler was delayed until the end of the year and will be making an original story instead. Also, he’ll be working with a cow to which she thought was too ridiculous, if it wasn't a western.

He explained, “When we find a location for shooting and get everything ready, hopefully in June.”

Gail felt relieved, “Then, do I have a chance to be your co-star?”

He uncrossed his legs, “Well, About that.” Seeing his sullen look, Gail’s heart began to sink as it might be another case of the bad news.

It seemed he couldn’t find the words when he told her, “My boss Joe didn’t want me to hire you.” He sighed, “And he recommended me an actress from Dick Turpin, Kathleen Myers.” He assured her after she turned her face away from him, “It had nothing to do with your injury. It’s just that he preferred someone with experience as a leading lady.”

Gail felt sadness welling up in her throat and clenched her fist, “No, It’s definitely something to do with my arm!” She attempted to retreat to her bedroom, but being blinded by her tears caused her to collapse to her knees, and then she wept heavily. Her sobs made it impossible for her to hear Buster come up to her before he aided her to the dining table. She exclaimed, not making eye contact with the stone face, “I knew it, I knew it! I should’ve left home years ago, but I waited and waited for a chance to take me away like a chump I am!”

“You’re not a chump!”

“You don’t know that! I promised myself I would work with you, but I failed!” There were whimpers in her voice, “I couldn’t get cast in a cast!”

Keaton defended her, “It was only an accident.”

A teardrop ran across her cheek, “Which should I have prevented! This wouldn’t have happened if I was more careful.”

Her body shook as she cried again. Initially, Gail expected Buster to leave her to mourn, then she felt his hand rub on her back, then his arm wrapped around her, enabling her to huddle in for an embrace. With a scent of his cologne coming from between his shoulder and neck, her sobs became softer before they’re diminished. He patted her back a bit. She heard him say, “Gail, I wanted to work with you, I really have. Things aren’t always simple in Hollywood.”

She faced him again. He gave her his handkerchief when she began to rub her eyes. He brought her a glass of water from the dining table which he just filled up.

“Look at me”, he continued, “It took me three years in the film business before I started leading and directing comedies. How long you’ve been working on screen?”

She answered, “A year and a half.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” he placed his hand onto her cheek. “I’m sure things will turn out alright as soon as your arm heals. There’s still hope for us to work together once Schenck sees what you can do.”

With a sniff, she added, “And there’s still Battling Butler.”

“Yup that too.” he gave her a slight grin.

As she finished wiping her tears, Gail noticed the black smudges on his handkerchief “Have I messed up my makeup?” He responded with another nod. “Excuse me”, she got up to the countertop and brought out the bottle of olive oil, a remedy for running mascara.

He told her with the cloth in his hand, “Allow me”

He added a dab of oil to his handkerchief and rubbed it onto her cheeks until they were clear.

“I might have unraveled your hair.” She pointed to the wavy part of his hair “Probably right there” she rose her right hand by his forehead, having her twirl the curl with her finger, “Perfect.” she said after stopping. Their eyes were fixated on each other. It was like that until they heard the key going in followed by the doorknob turning, the two then raced back to their respective seats.

Sally announced while opening the door and holding the big brown bag, “Hey Bae, took me longer to reach that take-out place, better to chow down while the food’s still hot.”

Gail was in her upright posture like nothing had happened, “Sal there’s a visitor.”

The blonde turned to Keaton who had just finished combing his hair, “Oh, shi-” She exclaimed, almost dropping the contents of the bag. Gail stood up to explain that the visit was a surprise to her as well and they were just talking in a professional matter. Buster also got up just to notify them he had to get home since it was almost six o'clock.

he turned to Gail, “One thing before I go, have you seen The Iron Mule?”

“No”

“My pal Roscoe actually directed it with a different name. It features someone I worked with back in the day and also watch out for that Indian.” he pointed to her, “You might find him familiar.”

she smiled, “Thank you for the visit.”

When he turned the doorknob and opened the door she just remembered something, "Wait!," She pulled out a notepad from the side table, wrote down her phone number, and tore it out to hand to Keaton. “No surprise visits next time. Okay?”

Buster nodded once, “Take care” he put on his hat and left her home as she waved.

Sally shrugged at her friend, “How the hell did he know where you live?”

She helped her unpack the take-out containers from the bag, “I’ll tell you over dinner and you owe me a dish.”

Gail was herself again, though embarrassed that she vented her emotions to her favorite comedian. What made her feel better wasn't the crying, but finding comfort in the object of her affection.

(sorry, I posted to my other account. I deleted it though.)

Note: I have to thank @trainrideswithbuster for giving me the idea that buster visits Gail while on the mend!

#buster keaton fanfiction #buster #Buster Keaton #busterkeaton #buster fic #buster keaton fandom #actor RPF #silent comedy

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raindrop-on-a-spiderweb · 5 years

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Mommy Dearest, Part 1

"What if Leonardo was already married when he met Patience?"

****

Francesca ironed her husband's white dress shirt, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles. He was a dapper, handsome man and she wanted him to look perfect. Nothing less would do.

A distant cry made her look up and out the living room window. Her boys were carousing in their roomy green yard. Chris was trying to yank his brother down, fingers entangled in his black hair.

"Bambini!" She called out in warning, but they still tussled, and didn't separate until they heard the engine of their father's black car as he pulled into the garage.

The kids nearly stumbled over themselves, shouting joyously and running in through the back door as the front door opened. Her husband put down his suitcase, picked up Chris and swung him around. "You're being a good boy for your mama?"

As he passed, Leonardo brushed a soft, affectionate kiss on the nape of Francesca's neck. "How is our little Fiorella?"

"Sleeping. Finally." She smiled prettily and tucked a strand of her long, thick black hair behind her ear.

"We're having pasta e fagiole for dinner. No, don't get up. I'll make it. You've been busy all day, deserve a break."

Sometimes Francesca wondered what he did out all day. He said he was managing his father's businesses, but Francesca was from Sicily. And she knew what kind of a man Silvio had been. So sometimes, as she fed the baby or did the laundry, her mind wandered, and she wondered.

But watching her husband's back, head bent and light shining off his beautiful golden curls as he tilted his head to listen to his son's chatter...

She wasn't sure why she would even want to.

***

Patience flexed her fists. In. Out. In. Out.

Fifteen minutes.

Michael had fifteen minutes to plant the wire.

Borghese was lingering by an oak tree, by Central Park. He was carefully watching something in the distance in the grove of trees that surrounded them.

Patience stomped up, gripped his leather-clad coat and turned him around.

"You better LISTEN to me," she spat in his face. "I know what you're doing. You fucking criminal. You can hire as many fancy lawyers as you like--"

His eyes were clear blue and opaque as the day she had stormed up on the courthouse steps and screamed at him. "Ssh," he said, voice a hush. His pupils focused on hers, fixed in a terrifyingly intense way. He pressed a finger to her lips just as a dirty-faced toddler stumbled out of the sandbox and latched on her leg.

"Leonardo, cosa non va?" Chirped a pretty voice. A dainty dark-haired woman was walking towards them, holding the hand of a little boy.

Patience stood there, bare in front of his devouring eyes, the warmth of a child against her leg.

"I--I'm sorry," she stammered, picking up the baby girl and clumsily cradling into her shoulder. "I never meant--"

The woman--Mrs. Borghese--regarding her hesitantly. "Who are you?"

The baby kicked at her chest and babbled. Patience looked down. "I'm sorry. I thought you were--" alone "someone else. What a beautiful girl you have."

"Her name is Fiorella," said Borghese softly, taking his daughter from her arms. "You are good with children. Do you have any of your own?"

His gaze was making her tremble. "No," she said quickly, under the disturbing eyes of Borghese and the more confused ones of his wife. "I need--I need to go now." Michael should have had plenty of time to plant the wire. Plenty. She hurried away, hearing Mrs. Borghese erupt in a chattering of Sicilian behind her. Borghese himself did not answer. He was silent, and the silence echoed behind her, and it disturbed her more anything in her life.

***

Patience stumbled backwards, her torn ankle wrenching in pain. "You disgusting murderer," she spat. "You--you let me go r-right now, I have friends, friends in high places."

"No one's going to look for you, Pazienza, and you know it." He was calmly taking off his jacket.

She cast a desperate look outside the window. They were in an apartment--high up, too high up for her to jump out the window.

"You're a married father, Leonardo BORGHESE! You have a god damn family and you're kidnapping young women! I feel sorry for your wife, I really do, unless that whore is in on it with you."

He didn't seem to be particularly bothered by her spat threats, even when she called his wife a whore. "She's a good wife. That's all she is."

For some reason, that infuriated her father. "Two sons. They're old enough to know what their father gets up to. And I pity your daughter."

That seemed to irritate him. "Lie down and take your dress off."

She spat in his face, and he slapped her without his face twitching or changing. "Oh, dolcezza. You're, as they say, a tough nut to crack."

***

Francesca could not get the worry out from her mind.

"I had the ball!"

"No, I had it!"

Christoforo and Giuseppe. Chris and Johnny. Different as night and day. Both had their mother's thick, dark hair and father's elegant features, but Johnny was loud and rambunctious, his brother quiet and thoughtful. Chris had always been her favorite. He always helped his mama in the kitchen and looking after his baby sister, Fiorella.

"I'm off, my darling," Leo said to her as he shrugged on his dress jacket. He looked so handsome with his hair slicked back, those golden curls teased straight. Where was he going? Why was he dressing up?

"You be careful, dear," Francesca murmured, kissing Leonardo on the cheek. Instead of turning and kissing her back, he simply smiled warmly at her and left through the front door.

As he left, and as she saw him turn, his neck shifted, and Francesca saw a faint bruise on his nape. One that looked like a…

Hickey.

***

A hickey.

Francesca agonized and mulled and worried. The thought festered and nibbled at her even as she fed her baby.

"Mama, Johnny won't let me have the football," whined Chris, who instead of fighting his brother, had come to her. Francesca barely spared him a glance. "You sort it out with him then."

Francesca was from Sicily. She knew what her husband was involved with. He was a good husband--she wanted for nothing. He took her along on his galas, made love to her, bought her jewelry, adored their children. Even if their marriage had been arranged, she had dared to think he loved her.

Until now.

She knew that men--especially men as powerful as Leonardo--liked to have mistresses. It was natural. However much he had spoiled her, he was a man.

But it didn't stop worrying her.

She had been a good wife, had she not? Borne sons, raised them, not complained? What had she done wrong?

The keys to his other houses hung on the rungs by the door. She had not touched them before now.

***

The first house was still shuttered, and there were dead leaves in the driveway. It had not been inhabited for some time.

Francesca almost decided to just go home, but decided to check the apartment building he rented. After that, she decided, she would go home.

The inside of the lobby was cold and quiet, marble floors clicking under her heels. She checked her key. Room 2103.

She took the elevator, nervously worrying if someone should spot her, one of her husbands' "friends". Francesca had never done this before--but she had never mistrusted him like this before.

The silence of the hall rang in her ears. It looked new. Artificial. Like no one lived behind any of the lacquered doors.

She twisted the key into 2103, and slowly pushed it open. The onside stunned her--it was a wreck. It looked like a bunch of hoodlums had come through and trashed it. As she stepped onto the mussed rug, she heard a distant gasp and a moan.

Her heart went into overdrive. She crossed the room in one stride, yanked open the bedroom door, and saw her worst nightmare

Inside the bedroom, on a bed with the sheets crumpled and tossed over the edge, Leonardo, her… her… husband was lying on top of what looked like a young girl, his body between her thighs.

As soon as the door swung open, Leonardo whipped around onto his back, next to the girl, and his eyes displayed a wild panic before they focused on her and recognized her. "Chicca. I can--"

He had not called her Chicca since they had courted. Somehow, that detail made her fury rise to neverending heights. "You disgusting disgrace!" Francesca screamed, tears streaming down her face. Ten years of marriage were slipping down a black hole in front of her horrified eyes.

The girl had rolled over onto the floor, covering her small breasts with the sheet. She had to be in her teens at the very least, early teens if Francesca was being truthful. She felt the disgust roil in her belly.

"Francesca," said Leonardo finally, and he stepped towards her, curving his hand over her tear-stained cheek. For a moment they were back in Sicily again, in Scafapani, at their first meeting in the cathedral, him with his hair in rebellious curls framing his gentle face, her hiding behind her scarf to shield her beet red flush. But he had laughed and taken her hand and kissed it anyway.

And his hand drifted down to her neck.

***

Patience ran out of the bedroom, clutching the sheet around her like a cape, and burst through the front door. She heard Borghese's wife wailing behind her, calling him mixed insults in English and Italian. When she came to the elevator, her high, despairing voice stopped as quickly as it began.

Cut off. Like a pig's throat slit, or a goose's neck strangled.

Tears beaded in her eyes as the silver doors of the elevator opened. When they klinged on the first floor, Patience ran out of the building, never looking back.

***

Chris knew there was something wrong as soon as his father called upstairs. There was a stern, sorrowful edge to his voice. "Giuseppe. Christoforo. Come down here. Your father wants to talk to you."

"I didn't do it, dad!" Johnny protested immediately as their father sat them down in the sitting room. Dad was holding baby Fiorella on his lap.

Chris felt the chill rest over his shoulders before he started speaking. He knew it was more enormous than that.

"You didn't do anything, Johnny. It's about your mother."

"What about mama? Is… is she all right?"

"Mama isn't coming back. She… had an accident."

There was a pause, and Johnny began to howl loudly. Chris's eyes welled with tears, but he didn't speak. All he could do was stare. His brain refused to believe it.

With Johnny's wails, Fiorella began to cry too, and Dad rocked her in his arms, getting up. "I'm so sorry, my darlings. I'm so sorry." He took them both in his arms, and Chris finally let himself weep, face pressed into the breast of his father's suit.

"What are we gonna do?" Sobbed Johnny when his father let go. "What are we gonna do without Mama?"

"Hush now." He gently stroked his son's head, gentle fingers threading their way through his thick dark hair. "Things will be back to normal soon. You won't be without a mother for long."

"Whaddyou mean?" Sniffed Chris. His father smiled a strange, secret smile and looked down at his daughter in his arms, bouncing her.

"There is someone I want you to meet. And I promise you… you are going to just adore her."

#bonus chapter

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spnuncensored · 6 years

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More Than You Think You Are

Series Summary: The boys think they are hunting vampires in a small town, but nothing is what it seems.

*Takes place in a skewed timeline, after Cas retrieves his Grace from Metatron, but without Lucifer's presence on earth (So Crowley lives and there is no Jack)

Characters : Cas x Reader, Dean, Sam, Others

Warning : Mature, Angst, Fluff, implied Smut.

Writer: TinyCas

Chapter 1

Every self-respecting story deserves a little background information. I really don't have much to tell, though. I was born into a small town world, and had planned on residing comfortably in its routine sameness for as long as I could-- preferably forever. I'd done well so far; I was just above average in high school, worked part-time at the private library on the main street until graduation, and then was promoted to assistant librarian. My parents both died suddenly when I was 19. The library owners took pity on me, having nowhere to go, and let me crash in the studio apartment on the second floor of the building. It just kind of... stuck. Eventually they decided to retire, promoted me to manager/head librarian, and let me hire a schoolkid to fill in the blanks from time to time. I'd never had big dreams for myself, and that was the only job I'd ever wanted. My apartment was small but comfortable. I'd dated a little, but got tired of guys getting tired of me. I'd told myself I was okay alone, eventually started to believe it, and figured I'd adopt a mess of cats at some point. Life goals, right?

That's pretty much it. My entire life summed up in a few sentences.

I was 27 when I fucked it all up.

It was a dark and stormy night. Really. It was early winter, and the rain was threatening to level up to snow. It was almost closing time, but I decided to stay open late for these guys who showed up just a few minutes beforehand. They were pretty, and I was bored. We were supposed to close at 5, but I don't know why we bothered to stay open that late anyway. Tiny town where everyone has their very own high speed Internet? I hardly ever saw someone I didn't know from the local schools, and they knew our hours of operation just as well as I did. But the owners didn't want me shutting down early, no matter how dead we'd been, how much electricity we were wasting... whatever, they were paying me, and it's not like I had anywhere else to be.

These guys... they walked in off the street ten minutes before closing. They even brought food in with them, which is against library rule #2 (right under QUIET). I didn't bat an eye. It was Saturday night, I was neck deep in a novel I'd snagged off the shelf earlier that week, and I didn't mind the idea of having three good looking guys all to myself for a little while. I locked the door behind them so no one would interrupt them us-- I wanted to look at THEM, not anyone else who happened to wander in-- and started re-shelving the returns from the day. It was a great excuse to listen in on their conversation while appearing to be otherwise occupied. I even popped an earbud in one ear for appearances. It wasn't plugged into anything, but as invested as they were in their studying, I assumed they wouldn't notice. They'd barely nodded a hello at me when they walked in, anyway.

They were all roughly my age, give or take a few either way. Very good looking. Just enough scruff. All of them considerably taller than me, which at 5'9" I wasn't used to. Two of them were dressed almost identical in jeans, flannel, and coats. The third guy was in a suit and trench coat, maybe a little older than the other two, and he spoke like Batman. When he did speak, anyway. He was definitely the quiet one. I've always had a thing for the quiet ones. And nice coats.

I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell.

They were pouring over a small pile of local history books that nobody had touched in... well, at least as long as I'd worked there. There wasn't much, mostly just the same information compiled by different people. The three of them each had a book open in front of them, occasionally reading passages out loud to each other, scribbling notes onto a yellow legal pad, and then back to reading again. They all looked on edge, like whatever they were looking for in these books was a matter of life and death, not the dry accounts of a town that had been around forever and barely even showed up on Google Maps.

I moved up and down the aisles slowly, loitering a bit at the end of each one, where they were sitting around one of our study tables. Eventually I gave up trying to be subtle. THEY were hanging around late in MY library. I could be nosy if I wanted. I even considered asking them for some of their french fries; I may have been boring, but I'd never had much shame. It was a good hour past closing by then, too, and they were keeping me from dinner. Still, I was mostly content to glance at them from time to time, listen to their murmured voices, try to guess what was so important, what they couldn't just find on the internet.

Then I realized they were talking about vampires.

It took me a moment to be surprised. It was nowhere near Halloween at the time, Twilight had come and gone, and they didn't look like the goth/cult/whiny teen type you'd expect to be obsessing over the undead. They were just... guys.

"From what I can tell, there isn't a history of vamps here at all," one of them was saying. "Not of anything, really. This might be the cleanest down we've ever been to."

"So they wanted a change of scenery?" another asked, pacing around the table. "Couldn't stand the hustle and bustle of the big cities anymore?"

"I don't think so. The body count is higher here, but none of them have been locals. For some reason, this is their dumping ground. Why would they go to the trouble of feeding on out-of-towners, but bring the bodies back here to attract attention? The coroner said they all had been dead for days before they turned up here. I don't get it."

I'd slowed down a bit as I walked up the next aisle, wondering if maybe I'd made a mistake locking myself into the library with these guys-- after all, good looking people could still be crazy-- when I came around the corner and walked straight into Batman.

He was just STANDING there. Like he had been waiting for me to come around the corner and run into him. Just STANDING there at the end of the aisle, with his hands in his coat pockets, head cocked slightly to one side.

I took my sweet time stammering around in my head, trying to come up with something to say that might make any sense; "vampires aren't real" and "it's too warm in here for a trench coat" didn't seem appropriate. After what was probably an uncomfortably long silence, he spoke.

"Are you trying to listen to something?"

Shit.

They weren't exactly speaking quietly, but it must have been obvious that I was eavesdropping. I was preparing to kick them out when he spoke again.

"Your music... you can't listen to it like that."

I slowly looked down to where his eyes were, and realized my earbud jack was hanging down just outside my jeans pocket. No more fake music charade. I wasn't being very smooth, not that I normally am, but my cheeks felt like if they got any redder I could light the whole room with them. I was so flustered that I was almost relieved when, a moment later, the lights went out.

For some reason my gut reaction was hit the deck, as if I'd just heard a gunshot; in reality there was nothing to hear, at least nothing that I could hear over the pounding of my own heart. The world must have stood still for a moment. I'd been in the library at night during power outages before, but something about this felt so different, so ominous. I could feel cold air on my neck from the vent in the ceiling above me. This wasn't just a power outage.

I risked a glace up and all I could tell was how very, VERY dark it was in that corner of the library. The only windows were at the front of the building, and it was pitch black out by then anyway. Since I was effectively blind, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on anything my other senses could tell me.

The silence seemed to last eons, but eventually I could hear light breathing from in front of and above me. Batman guy hadn't moved. I tried to match my breathing with his, and after a moment I felt my pulse slow to something resembling normal.

The rough old carpet underneath me had torn into my bare elbows and chin when I hit the floor. I'd bit my tongue; I wasn't registering pain from that yet, but I vaguely tasted pennies. I almost panicked when, wildly, I was suddenly convinced that my after-hours guests WERE vampires and would smell the blood in my mouth. Fortunately for my state of mind, that thought passed straight through me; whatever was going on, I knew with certainty that I wasn't stuck in a bad TV show. Somehow that realization grounded me.

Past Batman, toward the center of the room, I could barely make out the sounds of the other two guys moving quickly--but disturbingly quietly--around the room. There was the slightest of whispers as one of them approached us and muttered, "Stay with her."

"It's Sarah," I whispered back. I was suddenly convinced that I'd die there that night, and I was determined that it not happen with strangers. If nothing else, they could at least know my name before I croaked.

"Sarah," the same husky voice muttered back. And then, as if he'd read my mind, "I'm Dean. OK. Well now we ain't strangers no more. Stay put and stay quiet." Did this guy just quote Forest Gump at me? I almost laughed at how inappropriate the timing was, but I bit my already-bleeding tongue; this time it DID sting, and I stayed obediently quiet as he crept off.

After that, everything seemed to happen at once.

I smelled smoke, very suddenly and very close by. I could see, but that relief was dampened by the fact that I was seeing by firelight. That and actual damp; the emergency sprinklers in the ceiling came on moments after the flames became visible. The smoke alarm started almost immediately after the sprinklers, but not before I heard the slow, maniacal laughter coming from above me...from the private staircase that led to my apartment.

Someone was in my goddamn apartment.

I wasn't the only one who'd heard it. Over the screech of the smoke alarm, I could barely make out someone yelling "Dean! It's upstairs!"

It?

From a few aisles away, I heard a reply. "I see it. Cas, get her out of here!"

It hadn't occurred to me that I'd need help getting out, but I was still frozen in place, face down on the carpet, NOT doing the logical thing and getting my ass away from the flames. By then I was soaked from the sprinklers, which seemed to be dousing everything BUT the fire. I was tearing my soggy self up off the floor when I was grabbed under the arms and yanked to my feet, quickly enough to leave me momentarily dizzy. Batman--Cas--grabbed my hand and turned to lead us out of the building. There was a shock when our hands touched, like static electricity. His hand twitched but he didn't let go. For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw a strange glow around him, something separate and different than the increasing firelight from behind us. It was gone before I had a chance to study it, and the next thing I knew we were at the door.

The smoke was thick by then, and it stung; I could barely keep my eyes open. I fumbled with the lock momentarily before flinging the door open and gasping in the clean air, then turned back toward the others. Cas remained just inside the door. "Go," he growled, and then disappeared back into the smoke, trench coat swinging behind him like a cape. Damnit, Batman.

I should have run. I should have called 911, gotten in my car, driven...somewhere...

I had nowhere to go.

I had no one to go to.

I had nothing to lose.

I followed him back in.

I knew that place better than anyone. I knew where the fire extinguishers were, and I couldn't just leave three (four?) people in there if there was the slightest chance I could help.

The smoke alarm was still screaming, but I could hear bits and pieces of what was going on further back in the building. If I hadn't known any better, I'd have sworn I was listening to a sword fight. The smoke wasn't as thick in that direction, so I followed the sounds, grabbing the fire extinguisher along the way. As I got closer, I could hear muttered curses, grunts, entire shelves of books hitting the floor, more clanging metal. They were only an aisle away when I heard someone yell, "There's two of them, Sammy!"

The next thing I knew, someone--something--had rounded the end of the aisle and was coming right at me. We locked eyes, and it grinned.

I will see those irregular, needle sharp teeth whenever I close my eyes for the rest of my life.

I didn't have time to think. There were two of these things in the building. One of them was keeping the guys very busy, and from the sound of it, tearing my shelving apart in the process. The other was standing in front of me, breathing heavily, looking for all the world like it was about to eat me for dinner.

So as it lunged at me, bloody fangs dripping, I brought the fire extinguisher up under its jaw as hard as I could.

Between my adrenaline and its momentum, it actually did go down. For a moment anyway. I was standing there with my eyes popping out of my skull as it got right back up and started at me again, when I heard someone yell from directly behind it.

"Get down!"

For the second time that night, I dropped myself straight to the floor. I heard a dull thud in front of me, and when I didn't get my face torn off by those nightmarish teeth, I cautiously looked up.

Cas was standing there, gasping in the smoke, a bloodstained bowie knife in one hand. The... thing... was sprawled, unmoving, at his feet.

The thing's head had fallen inches away from my face.

If I were halfway sane, I'd have screamed. Thrown up. Passed out. Anything other than laughed, which is exactly what happened. It surprised me, not that I could stop it, and the look on Cas' face betrayed his concern at my unorthodox reaction. I couldn't have cared less what this guy--or anyone, at that point--thought of me. I'd just seen a monster die right in front of me. A vampire, if those teeth were any indication. Vampires were real, my life was burning down around me, and I was all out of fucks to give.

My mild hysteria still had me rooted in place when the others came rushing at us from the back of the smoky room. I leapt to my feet and raised the fire extinguisher again in defense, but Cas reached his arm out to stop me before I knocked out one of...the good guys? I tried to breathe a sigh if relief that they weren't being chased, but all I was able to inhale was smoke and ash; the fire was still spreading.

"Out," one of them ordered. "Now. It's gonna blow!"

They weren't messing around. Cas grabbed my hand again (another small electric shock) as one of the others guided me from behind. We didn't stop running as we exited the building; they led me directly across the street toward the public parking lot.

Just a few steps from the sidewalk, the building exploded behind us.

*I will upload the next chapter on 22/2*

I hope you enjoyed reading this. Feedback is really appreciated. There are 12 chapters. If you want me to tag you in the next part, let me know.

@impala-dreamer @samanddeanmyguardianhunters @impalasgirl @deathtonormalcy56 @waywardjoy @crispychrissy @supernaturalwinchesterblog @fandommaniacx @supernaturalsmut1012 @saxxxology-main @winchester-family-business @potterhead1265

#Supernatural #SPNUncensored #spnfanfic #spnfandom #spnfamily #castiel x reader #castiel x you

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