#that last one is so fucking weird too like okay since when is insisting a character is straight in response to them being gay or bi not
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Holiday in... Handcuffs? Pt. 2
Pt 1
“Okay Dustin, tell me one more time why you think Steve was kidnapped.” Hopper says while pinching the ridge of his nose. It’s not that he didn’t believe the boy, it's just, he highly doubts one guy would be capable of taking Steve down easily.
“He told me he was! I heard a struggle, he said kidnapped, I heard the kidnappers voice!” Dustin shrieks while waving his phone at Hopper. Will, Mike and Lucas had come to join him, they were staying quiet though, still in shock. The girls had been skeptical and refused to stop their girls day for what they thought was a cry for attention.
“Did Steve perhaps call you accidentally if he was… busy with someone?” He has caught Steve with his pants down too many times to assume the guy didn’t have varied interests in bed. Dustin just scowls and puts his hands on his hips exactly like Steve does.
“No, he was calling to tell me something. That he wasn’t going to be able to do something and then the struggle started. I heard swearing and panting like Steve was trying to get away, his speaker sounded like it had been hit because all his audio started getting really fuzzy. He was trying to say something about his kidnapper that he was weird or something like that. And then I heard the guy's voice really clearly, he said ‘in you go princess.”
“I understand Dustin, I'm just asking if there are any other possibilities. Steve is an adult man who doesn’t look like he’d be easy to kidnap, on top of that he was on the phone actively talking to a witness which is the last thing a criminal wants. Kidnappers go after people who won’t be missed, who they can convince to get out of the public eye.”
“He said goodbye to me, Hopper. He said goodbye and that he loves me.” Steve normally did this but he just had this gut feeling that something horrible had happened. “If you won’t help me I’ll go looking for him myself.”
“Slow your roll Dustin Henderson. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, I just need as much information as possible. Did Steve tell you where he was when he was taken?”
“His phone tracking shows him around the corner from the shop when he made the call.” Dustin pulls up the map and shows him the screenshot he took of the dot in front of the corner bodega. “Now the tracking on it is spotty, wherever they’re taking him it has a bad signal, and they’re moving.”
Fuck that’s not good. Hopper stands from his desk and grabs his jacket. “Okay, I’m going to check out where Steve was last seen. You tell me if the tracking ever reappears and what direction it’s heading in, that could help us predict where they may be headed. Stay here. Do not, do anything stupid.” Hopper orders before heading out the door and getting in his cruiser to go by the bakery.
~O~
They had stopped at a gas station about twenty minutes out from the cabin because Eddie wanted s'mores supplies and some beers. Steve was kind of hungry so he picked up some snacks for them too. The two of them giggled and playfully shoved each other until the gas station owner, full of fond exasperation, said that she was going to confiscate their ID’s as fakes if they didn’t stop acting like children. Steve looked concerned while Eddie just snorted.
“Like you haven’t been letting me buy beers here since I was 19 Terry.” He winks and she flips him off. They set their haul on the counter and Steve insists on paying, smacking Eddie’s hands away when he tries to steal the other man’s card. Eventually Eddie just folds his arms over Steve’s shoulders and rests his chin on Steve’s head.
“Shall I give Wayne your best then?” He teases wiggling his eyebrows. Terry scoffs and reaches across the counter to swat him.
“You’ll be keeping your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you Edward Theodore Munson. And thank your young man for buying your groceries, what were you raised in a barn?”
“Oh trust me Lady Theressa I would like nothing more than to thank him, long and often but he has rebuffed my advances because all of you keep telling him I’m such a scoundrel!” Eddie dramatically swoons against Steve’s back, swooning a little in reality at how easily Steve holds his weight. “My knight in shining armor has rebuked me, leaving me without favor or token to get me through the dark, lonely nights!”
“Are you sure you want to be seen in public with this guy?” Terry stage whispers to Steve. Steve laughs and rubs his hand over Eddie’s forearms, the metalhead squeezing him tighter in response.
“God help me but doe-eyed, curly hair nerds are kinda my type.” That response has Eddie blushing and ducking his head to hide behind his curls against Steve’s neck. He meant it when he said he’d earn that kiss, whatever Steve needed to know his interest was in something real.
“That’s on you then. You boys stay safe out there, got it?” She gives them both an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture as they gather up their bags of snacks and offer her holiday wishes in return as they head out.
Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand once they’re back in the car warming up. Steve’s eyes are glittering and Eddie squeezes his hand again so he doesn’t lean over and accidentally steal that kiss. “If you’re not completely sick of me after this trip, and you’re willing to give this a shot, I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“I think I’d like that.” Steve murmurs. Honestly if Eddie asked he’d definitely kiss him right here and now. No one has made him laugh this much in a while, has listened to Steve talk about the bakery and the youth basketball team he’s an assistant coach for with such rapt attention. He hasn’t felt this seen since Robin, who is the other half of his brain cell, they are two halves of a whole idiot and they do just about everything together. She knows he’s thought Eddie was cute from the first time he walked into the bakery, with a grease smudge on his forehead and his hair tied up in a clip.
“Is there something on my face, you’re staring.” Eddie asks, he’s actually got a smear of chocolate from a cookie on his lip but Steve just smiles and shakes his head.
“Just think you’re beautiful, that’s all.” And as color floods Eddie’s face, prompting him to hide behind his hair again as he turns to watch the road, Steve can’t help but be unrepentantly charmed. It’s silly to think about but Steve feels like he’s fallen into one of those goofy Hallmark Christmas movies. The ones where unexpected circumstances end up bringing you exactly where you’re supposed to be to meet The One or something ridiculous like that. It’s silly he knows but he has a good feeling about this Christmas.
~O~
Most of the shops had closed by the time Hopper got there, the bodega included unfortunately. But there was a pawn shop across the street that was still open. He walked in and went to the counter where a nervous, sweaty little man stared him down.
“H-hello offfficer. What can I do for you?” He dabs at his receding hairline with a stained hanky.
“That camera out front work?” He asks and the man nods.
“Yes, I-I haven’t had many customers come in today and I have all the goods I’ve had sold to me today right over here if you need to see any of them for any reason. I do feel like I should inform you-”
“I don’t care about possible stolen goods at the moment, does that camera reach to across the street?” Hopper cuts him off not wanting to be here a second longer than he needed to.
“A little. Um, right this way officer.” He scurries over to the door to lock it and switch the sign to closed before taking Hopper to the backroom where the camera controls were set up.
“I want you to show me just before 7 to 7:15 today.” Hopper says and the man is quick to comply. He wasn’t exaggerating about the little, Hopper couldn’t see faces or anything significantly higher than people’s waists. He scanned the footage intently for anything suspicious and then he saw it. An inconspicuous looking black vehicle driving too close to the curb, kicking up sludge as it goes. He sees sharp movements and then two bodies hitting the ground. They’re almost out of frame when the incident occurs but he catches a glimpse of Steve. The young man is indeed on his phone, the device clutched in his hand as a body with its back to the camera lands on top of him. The figure is wearing what looks like jeans and a thick, dark sweater, heavy combat boots and chains dangling from one of the pockets. So definitely not Steve’s usual crowd. He watches Steve’s feet scrabble against the icy pavement before he’s pulled up and out of frame. About a minute later a similar black vehicle drives back in the other direction.
So that must be the play. Knock them off balance by driving too close, then while the victim is disoriented loading them into the vehicle and taking off back in the opposite direction. Unfortunately this camera angle didn’t provide plate details for the vehicle so that would have to wait until morning. He just hoped Steve could hold on that long.
“Rewind a bit, I want you to print out some of these frames for me.” Hopper says, pulling up another chair.
By the time he gets back to the office he’s frustrated and worried for Steve. And he knows Joyce has got to be getting worried about him too, he should have been home almost two hours ago by now.
The kids have all gone but they pinned a map to a whiteboard they commandeered and drew a trail of dots with each check in point where they could get a signal from Steve’s phone. It looks like the kidnappers are headed towards the mountains which is not a good sign for Steve’s life expectancy. He can’t despair yet though and adds the printouts of the attack to the board.
Steve is his boy and if these fuckers have hurt a single hair on his head, they’ll never find the bodies. No matter how much his heart and mind rage though there’s no new information to gather right now. He needs to go home, to tell Joyce what happened. He needs her help to figure out what to tell the kids if the worst comes to pass.
~O~
Wayne is standing in the open door as they pull up. Eddie can barely help the child-like grin on his face as he dashes up onto the porch, ignoring the crack of ice under his boots as he pulls his uncle into a tight hug.
“I’ve missed you.” He groans as Wayne squeezes him back just as tight,
“Missed you too son, now get in here so I can meet your boy finally.”
And oh how Eddie’s heart soared at hearing Wayne call Steve his boy, but first he had to tell Wayne the truth about what happened.
“About that Wayne, this is Steve, he’s a friend of mine. Hector won’t be joining us because he decided to be a two-timing scumbag.” Steve, absolute gentleman that he is, has all their bags with him that he sets down before offering Wayne his hand to shake.
“Steve Harrington sir, Eddie has been telling me so much about you.” Wayne returns the gesture with a small grin, so similar to Eddie’s.
“Just Wayne please, you gonna make an honest man of my boy before these knees are too old to walk him down the aisle?”
“Wayne!” Eddie sputters, resisting the urge to throw himself in the nearest snowdrift and just stay there until the spring thaw. He’s burning up so much right now he could possibly melt through the ice on the lake and just drown there too. Steve barely seems phased though and just gives Eddie a soft look.
“Well, we were going to maybe start with dinner. Save the wedding plans for the third date you know.” He winks and Eddie buries his face in his hands with a whine, great they get along too well.
“I’m going to bed!” He declares loudly, he’s had a shit day and the drive up into the mountains always stresses him out. Wayne just gives him the stink eye.
“You drag this boy all the way out here and just plan on disappearing? Show him around at least!” Wayne turns back to Steve and pats him on the shoulder, “I really tried to raise him with manners I swear.”
Steve throws his head back and laughs, looking so radiant and happy that Eddie barely feels his heart slip from his chest and splat down at his feet. Freely offered to the gorgeous man who offered to come here for him, who looks at him like he’s hoping as hard as Eddie is that this thing starting to take shape between them could be something wonderful.
“I think he’s just the way he’s supposed to be.” Steve says, looking at him so warmly. Eddie flushes and reaches for Steve again, craving the way their fingers feel folded together already and starts showing him around the cabin. It’s not massive or really even anything special. Living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom across the way. There’s a little gazebo outside right on the edge of a lake which was why Wayne wanted the place to begin with. There’s boxes of decorations sitting out but no tree, when Steve asks about it Eddie just grins.
“Munson family tradition, we have to go get one. Then we spend the whole day decorating and drinking and snacking on whatever we have on hand. Sometimes we stay inside and just read while Wayne plays his old records. Or I’ll take the kids out to go skate if my cousins are around.”
“That sounds really nice Eddie. I never really got to have traditions like that growing up.” Steve had talked a bit about his cold, lonely upbringing, and how he’d never had people to celebrate the holidays with until Robin and his group of shitheads. Eddie had suspected that Steve had to be at least a bit lonely to volunteer to go to a practical stranger’s house for Christmas but Eddie was really happy he had.
“Then I’m all too happy to share ours with you.” Steve’s lip wobbles a touch as he pulls Eddie into a gentle hug.
“I feel like a horrible person for crying when you’re the one who went through so much today, but thank you for having me.” Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and holds him back just as gently, fingers sinking into Steve’s thick waves.
“Thank you for offering to come. I feel so much braver, facing everything that happened today because I wasn’t going through it alone.” The held each other for a moment longer before drifting back to their own spaces. “Want some cocoa before we head to bed? It’s a queen if you don’t mind sharing, the couch is…” he inhales sharply, “not great.”
“I feel like we’re going about things in a very weird order. Haven’t kissed, haven't been on a date but going straight to sharing a bed. Yeah, cocoa sounds nice.”
“It’s from a packet so temper your fine artisanal drink crafting expectations.” Eddie says tugging Steve into the kitchen,
Steve just shakes his head and giggles, “Just how pretentious do you think I am?”
Wayne watches them from his seat in the living room, two of them wrapped up in their own little world of new romance as they stand hip to hip in the kitchen, sipping hot chocolate and watching each other with stars in their eyes. They might actually start discussing marriage before their third date.
Pt 3
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#dustin henderson#wayne munson#baker!steve#mechanic!eddie#modern au#no upside down au#comedy of errors#accidental kidnapping#steddiefic chronicles
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A Fic About Dean's 45th Birthday
~3k words | slight angst with a happy ending
Dean never says anything about his birthday.
Sam has weird hang ups about holidays like Halloween and Christmas, and January 24th isn't just Dean's birthday—it was Jess's birthday too. So Dean's never made a fuss. He's asked for Christmas, but he's never asked to have his birthday celebrated. There are many years he can think of where he wouldn't have even wanted to celebrate his birthday anyway—where the idea of it would have felt hollow.
He's said before in front of Sam and Bobby, "I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by God" and he figures maybe Sam has always remembered that, and probably told Cas too (if Cas ever asked).
Right. It all makes sense.
So he has no reason to expect Sam to realize that Dean actually wants to celebrate his birthday now—that he has wanted to for... the last three years, ever since Mrs. Butters insisted they throw a birthday party for Sam.
He can't stop thinking about Mrs. Butters saying they shouldn't celebrate Dean's birthday—or... rather, that she thought he wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday because he's old... and just... fuck that.
The truth is, the older Dean gets, the more his birthday feels... important. For one, he's officially spent more time not in Hell now than he spent in it. For another, 45 just feels... important somehow. It isn't 50—but it's another half a decade? He thought he'd be dead by now (well—he supposes he has been—but it hasn't stuck yet) and he doesn't know—it just feels like... like something to celebrate. He's 45 years old, and he isn't dead. He's alive, and he's happy, and things have been good lately.
He keeps thinking about it every year that passes better than the last. He keeps wondering every year. He keeps hoping every year—even though he knows it isn't rational when he hasn't said anything. He hasn't asked. He hasn't told anyone that anything's changed. He can't expect a birthday party if he doesn't communicate that he wants one. At the same time, asking for one feels weird. It feels... whiney. Nobody else is asking.
Dean's done birthday meals for Sam the past couple of years without Sam asking (stooped to making a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam's birthday last year with minimal grumbling) but it doesn't seem to make much of an impression. Sam is just... not much of a birthday guy. He's quiet, and to be honest, Dean's pretty sure he prefers celebrating with Eileen if he's going to do anything. She usually swings into town around Sam's birthday to take him out drinking. Well. He'll be celebrated whether he likes it or not—at least a little—at least with a meal.
Dean doesn't know when to celebrate Cas. He's asked before and Cas said something about being created before humans or their methods of marking the passage of time existed and... yeah, okay. Dean's favorite local diner sells good pie, and has a nice selection of milkshakes, including a PB&J flavored one. For the last few years, once a year, on September 18th, Dean tries to either take Cas out for one of those milkshakes, or pick one up for him. The date just feels right.
Dean puts the most effort in for Jack, with a full on cake ever since Mrs. Butters. Sometimes, he adds a bag full of Three Musketeers candy bars. Cas and Sam certainly don't raise a fuss. They all silently agree that the kid should get the birthday experience even if the rest of them are too old and jaded to care.
42, 43, 44... every time January 24th rolls around, it's always just like any other day. He thinks maybe when he turned 43, Sam might have wandered into The Dean Cave at night when Dean was watching a movie with Cas and sat for a while, then belatedly said, "Oh. Uh, happy birthday, man," while staring down at his cell phone. That was it.
Dean had brushed him off with a grunt—probably only reinforced for Sam and Cas both that Dean doesn't care just like they don't seem to care. So it isn't rational. It isn't fair. It isn't reasonable for Dean to get upset. But maybe it starts to sting a little, okay? And yeah that makes Dean feel a little embarrassed—sue him. He hasn't said anything... and he shouldn't. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Butters said he's too old for birthdays.
Still, despite his best efforts, Dean goes to bed on January 23rd 2024 wondering if someone will remember—if maybe, this time, they'll do something... because... he's 45. Something simple is all he imagines. They go out to eat, or... someone else makes breakfast (or tries). Sam give him a stupid gag gift. Cas picks up a pie.
As Dean falls asleep, he stupidly imagines the library decorated with a tiny "Happy Birthday" banner. He imagines a stack of pancakes for breakfast with a stupid candle in them. He imagines party hats and Rice Krispie treats. He imagines someone just... wishing him a happy birthday. Just... acknowledge it—that he's 45. That it's important.
Dean wanders into the library in the morning and it's empty and dark. He goes into the kitchen, and Sam is illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean flicks on the light and Sam barely flinches. "Hey," He says, keeping his gaze on his work... and that's it. That's how January 24th 2024 is going to be.
Dean shakes himself out of it—doesn't reply—just wanders over to the coffee pot to pour in grounds and get a drip brew going. Who knows if Sam has even slept—he's been deeply fixated on a cataloguing project for two weeks straight now. It's entirely possible he pulled an all-nighter. He might not even know what day it is anyway.
Dean opens the fridge and drags out the bacon. He considers toast too, but then decides that... well—he can celebrate his own birthday at least by making it special himself. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a boxed pancake mix he picked up who knows how long ago.
Just add milk and eggs.
Dean eyes the half-burnt-out pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer, stored there last May 18th. He closes the drawer, rolling his eyes at himself, and flips his pancakes as they start to bubble.
When breakfast is finished cooking (enough for Sam and Cas and Jack too, of course) Dean makes himself a plate and plops down across from Sam at the kitchen table.
"Big stack of pancakes," Sam murmurs—and Dean could swear there's a vaguely judgmental lilt to it.
Dean's eyes burn, which is stupid. He cuts through all five pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, staring at Sam across the table stonily as he chews.
Sam glances up and makes a bitch face, but doesn't say anything, returning his focus to his laptop
"What are you doing that's so damn interesting anyway?" Dean grumbles.
"Still cataloguing. Actually, Eileen is coming over to help me. We're gonna drag that last shelf of books into the library from the archive room and scan it all—finally have everything digitized."
Dean's heart sinks. It's gotta be at least 1,000 books.
Sam gets up from his chair. "I was gonna wheel everything in from down there and stack it on the tables before she gets here. You wanna help me?"
"Uhh..."
"Right," Sam scoffs lightly, making his way over to the coffee pot. "No problem."
"Look—I'm glad you enjoy that shit," Dean poorly pronounces through a mouthful of chewed food, stabbing another bite before he's finished this one. "Because someone has to—but moving and cataloguing books is the last thing I wanna do on my birthday."
It slips out without Dean really meaning for it to. He feels like the pancakes he's eaten are crowding his throat. He grabs his glass of water and swallows quickly, watching Sam over the rim of his glass.
"Oh," is all Sam says though—glancing at Dean, then his watch, before pouring his coffee into a mug. "Uh... happy birthday."
Dean looks down at his plate. "Thanks."
Sam clears his throat unusually loudly. "You know—I'm gonna be busy, but maybe... you ought to make a day of it," He suggests suddenly, leaning against the counter with his mug in a way that does not look comfortable or natural.
Dean immediately smells deceit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "What do you mean?"
Sam opens his mouth then closes it—shrugs. "You know—go out on the town... see if Cas or Jack wants to do something together. I mean—I can't go—can't back out on Eileen, but..." He interrupts himself with a sip of coffee.
Dean narrows his eyes. "Are you... trying to get me out of the bunker right now?"
"What? No!" Sam has always been terrible at lying to Dean—always seems too indignant. "I just—maybe you should celebrate. You're like, 46 or something, right?"
"45!" Dean's voice goes up a whole octave, suspicion momentarily forgotten.
"Whatever," Sam waves him off. "Go get a nice drink somewhere or go see a movie."
Dean glowers.
Sam stares back at him, before opening his mouth and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Me and Eileen uh... need the library."
Dean cocks his head to the side a little, processing, before the realization hits. A big grin spreads over his face. "Sammy, you sly dog..." Dean chuckles. "I know what this is."
"Uh...?"
"Yeah you and Eileen are gonna catalogue some books, huh? Heheh..."
Sam scowls and rolls his eyes. "Gross, Dean."
Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Message received. I will uh... clear outta here..." Dean gets up, collecting his empty plate. "And... make myself scarce until say....?" He looks at Sam expectantly.
Sam looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling—anywhere but Dean, before saying, "...6:30?"
"I'll make it 7:00!" Dean declares, setting his dishes in the sink then striding out.
Jack turns out eager to go do something in town, which bolsters Dean's spirits. When they go looking for Cas though, and find him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he says gruffly, "I have judo practice."
Cas has run through a stream of contact sports over the last three years, and so far, he's stuck with judo the longest. He's very good at it, and he takes it very seriously. It's kind of funny but also kinda... well—adorable at the same time.
"Why the fuck did you take a shower right before judo practice?"
Cas spits into the sink. "There is a man attending now whose gi is off white. Off white, Dean. Not because that is the color of the fabric, but because he never seems to bathe or wash his clothing."
Dean stares at him.
Cas shakes his head, seething at his own reflection in the mirror. "I know what he's doing... It's a strategy. He and I are enemies... and I will defeat him without stooping to his level."
"You are bathing before practice as a 'fuck you' to a smelly guy?" Dean clarifies. Suddenly Dean feels offended. "Wait a minute—how come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"
"He's new," Cas grumbles. "He just moved here, and he smells, and he tries to tell the instructors they're doing things wrong. He's annoying and I hate him. Defeating him at this practice is very important, Dean. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could join you later."
"But it's Dean's birthday," Jack pipes up.
Dean looks at Jack, surprised, but also... touched.
Jack gives Cas a pleading look. Cas looks... put upon. He's giving Jack an almost... warning look, which is weird, but... bad day for Cas, maybe.
"No no—it's fine," Dean waves Cas off, and puts on an excited smile on for Jack. "You know what, Jack? All this means is that the two of us can go fishing."
"I hate fishing..." Cas grumbles.
"Exactly," Dean says. "So you won't miss out. Join us after your practice or whatever if you want. Sam wants the bunker to himself 'cause Eileen's coming over."
Cas tilts his head at him in confusion. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"
Dean gives him a look.
Cas stares back, then realization comes over his face. "...Oh," He says, glancing between Dean and Jack. "Uh... yes... so. Perhaps I'll join you after... fishing."
Jack seems eager to do a lot of activities. It makes Dean feel kind of good that Jack seems to appreciate birthdays, because Dean is the one who made sure they kept celebrating Jack's.
They pack sandwiches and eat them by the river while they fish, and then Jack says he wants to see a movie so they go to the theater, and even though it doesn't matter because it's all the same cash at the end of the day, Jack insists on buying the popcorn when Dean reaches for his wallet.
They still haven't heard from Cas by the time they get out of the movie. His practice should have ended hours ago.
"....What if we go see the world's largest ball of twine?" Jack asks. So okay. They do. Then after that, they go play mini-golf. Dean keeps checking his phone, hoping maybe Cas will call or text for their whereabouts and join them, but a message never comes.
Dean feels not only a little stung, but also kind of worried. He ends up texting Cas.
Dean: Just checking in.
Cas replies about 20 minutes later.
Cas: I apologize, Dean. Sam has roped me into actual research.
However much he doesn't want it to, it puts a damper on things—makes it hard for Dean to keep smiling. Sam just... didn't want he and Jack underfoot? Is that it? He thought they'd... get in the way? It kind of offends Dean. He and Jack are both perfectly competent at researching and Sam knows that. Dean just doesn't like this kind of project. At worst, he would have stayed out of the way—holed up in The Dean Cave or in his room to watch movies. If Sam's goal was getting them out of the bunker so they wouldn't bother him, it doesn't feel fair. It seems... mean.
Dean's throat feels tight. He puts his phone on silent before they get to the burger joint in the evening—tells himself he's jumping to conclusions—he isn't being fair.
At least... at least Jack is having a good time—smiling ear to ear. It's good to see him happy—especially after that upsetting stint as God. The responsibility of it... the weight... thinking about it had twisted Dean's stomach in knots some nights so bad he could hardly breathe, even if he never spoke to anyone about it.
Dean pulls into the garage right about 7PM, determined not to let any disappointment or hurt toward Sam or Cas show—reminding himself again that it's his own fault that they didn't know this day was important to him.
He decided on the drive home he'll say something about celebrating birthdays from now on... around late April, right before Sam's birthday so no one catches on that he's hurt. That'll... it'll make it easier to get it out anyway, Dean thinks—that this is something he wants—if it's first in the context of Sam's birthday instead of his own. He'll say he'd like to start making celebrating everyone's birthday a habit—say it's important to him. He'll ask, and plan a party for Sam, then they'll do one for Jack, then Cas... then, when Dean turns 46... maybe they can celebrate Dean's birthday all together then. Everyone being celebrated... it just feels right. It's something Dean just... wants.
He's also cooled off on Sam—convinced himself that Sam probably just didn't want Dean to feel obligated to help on his birthday while Sam was determined to be a bore—thought he'd have more fun getting out of the house. He just wishes Sam had the sense not to rope Cas in too.
Jack pushes open the stairs that lead down into the map room, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a very loud chorus of voices exclaiming, "SURPRISE!"
Jack grins widely then, and says, "Come on, Dean!" He races to the bottom of the stairs, motioning for Dean behind him.
Dean can hardly believe it when the library comes into view.
His family is there. Not just Sam and Cas, but Eileen, and Rowena, Donna, Jody, Garth and Bess and their boys, Claire and Patience and Alex. Some of them are wearing party hats, others just smiling. Donna scoops him into a hug first, then Jody.
Dean is overwhelmed by the attention as he trades hugs with so many of their friends. His eyes are drawn to actual decorations. There are streamers hang from the ceiling, attached to brown balloons. There's a banner attached to a wall that says "It Is Your Birthday!"
"Alright—so I left Cas in charge of the decorating while I went to get the cake," Sam admits as he walks up and places a cup of punch in Dean's hand.
"I already told you—the balloons are the color of Scooby Doo!" Cas scowls.
"Oh yeah? And why are they so under-filled?" Sam says back, but he's laughing.
"They're perfect, Cas," Dean chokes, looking at all the effort Cas put in—overwhelmed.
A cake in the shape of Scooby Doo's face is laid out on one of the tables, surrounded by paper party plates and napkins with The Scooby Gang on them. There are... there are actual wrapped presents sitting on the the table further back. Like... a lot of presents.
"You... you did all of this for me?" Dean asks, looking at Cas and Sam.
"We lied so we could stay here and prepare," Cas admits. "Jack was supposed to keep you out of the house while we worked."
Dean glances at Jack then, who beams.
"I'll be honest though. I really thought you had me figured out this morning in the kitchen, Dean," Sam shakes his head, grinning.
Dean's eyes well up with tears. "You're still a bad liar," He croaks.
He doesn't even know if it's him or someone else who starts it, but suddenly they're all in a group hug.
"Happy 45th birthday, Dean."
"You deserve it."
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somebody to lean on
Summary: Bucky gets a surprising phone call and finds out you’re in the hospital.
Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader
Word count: 2.4K
Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 36), angst, teasing, language, pet names, boobs play, no mention of y/n.
story masterlist
Bucky Barnes masterlist
This is dedicated to @es1dit and @marvelouslizzie!
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission! I really hope you’ll enjoy it, I can’t wait to read what you think.
He can understand, right? He doesn’t even look that angry.
You sigh, trying to fix you T-shirt and hair before approaching them. You expected Steven to wait for you since he’s the one who drove you here, but Bucky? He was working for the whole day. Did someone from set call him? Do they somehow have his number?
You shyly step forward, and Bucky turns his head. It’s like he’s a different person. He looks so sweaty and tired and you don’t know if the filming was hard or it’s because he had to come here.
“Hi.” You welcome him and get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m all good now.” You try to take your bag from Bucky’s hands but it’s not possible, his grip is so tight. You look at Steven. “I’m all good, we can go back.”
“Look-”
“You’re not going back. Not today.” Bucky pauses after every word as if he’s trying to keep his composure.
“But I’m fine,” you tell him, trying to find his eyes. “I promise. I don’t want to delay anything.”
“It’s okay, they started to film with your double so no delay,” Steven gives you a sweet smile. “But you should take today off at least.”
“But-”
“Let’s go home,” Bucky answers without hesitating, and you don’t get to even say goodbye to Steven properly as Bucky simply leads you toward the exist.
“James...” He is so quiet that it makes you feel weird. “I’m sorry they called and interrupted you. I had no idea they will... they insisted to have this checkup, but the set doctor said-” you stop when he opens the door for you without saying anything. Was he even listening?
You get in and take your bag when he hands it to you as quickly as possible.
The last thing you want is to be a burden for him. You don’t want him to see you as a kid. And you don’t him to get called every time you do something. He’s not your parent.
As soon as he’s in the driver seat you try to reach for his hand. “I apologize a hundred times; I really didn’t want to disturb you. I know you are busy...”
Bucky lets out a puff and finally looks at you. “Is that it? You’re sorry for disturbing me as if you’re my employee?”
“I don’t know what to say.” You’re on the verge of crying now, and Bucky can see it.
“You got hurt.”
“I am fine...”
And you really are, you’re not lying.
Bucky sighs. “Just... let’s just talk home.”
His home that became yours too or is he going to drop you off to your apartment?
You cover your face, trying not to cry.
*
Bucky’s opening your door before you get to finish taking off your seatbelt. You let him take your bag and help you get out with a sigh.
“Thought you’re gonna drive me home.”
He looks at you with raised eyebrows. “We’re home, aren’t we?”
“I mean my apartment.”
“Is that your home?” You can sense the hurt in his tone even though he tries to hide it. He still cares at least…
“No, bubba, you are my home.”
His eyes seem slightly warmer as he takes off your coat and your shoes despite your protests, and then his.
“Are you gonna talk to me now?” You ask softly.
“You lied to me.” He isn’t accusing you, he simply states it. “And you hid. And you put yourself in danger.”
“James-”
“Let me finish, okay?” He’s looking at you without trying to pretend he isn’t about to cry. You fucked up... “You put yourself in danger, and I had no idea what you were even doing! I had no idea you even trained, I had no idea you had to be checked by the set doctor, then you went to a hospital.”
You bite your lip ashamed, but you don’t open your mouth. He asked you to listen to him.
“I went crazy when your sister called me all panicked, accusing me of not telling her you’re hurt!” He’s pacing around the living room as he speaks. “Natasha told her. Natasha knew... yet she didn’t call me. You know why?” He isn’t actually waiting for your answer. “Because she thought my girlfriend would call me first.”
“Jamie-”
“You didn’t call me.” He stops walking and kneels in front of you. “You didn’t trust me, did you? You don’t trust me. At least not enough to share this with me.”
“No, don’t say that, I trust you.” You reach to touch his face and when he doesn’t pull back. you cry happily that he didn’t reject you. “I trust you and I love you.”
“Then why did you not tell me, huh? You were in the hospital and I... I thought I’ll die. Right there on set. You have no idea what type of thoughts had been in my head. I thought I will never see you, and I didn’t get to say...” He closes his eyes. “Do you understand how fucking terrifying that is?”
You’re fully crying by now, imagining what he’s saying, picturing yourself in his place. You’d die, too. Right on spot.
“I didn’t think. I wasn’t thinking like this. I wanted to prove that I can do this.” You take a deep breath. “That I can do a fucking fight scene. It’s just work. You’re so busy and... important, and you don’t have to deal with my silly work things. I don’t want to be your burden even though you didn’t make me feel like this. I didn’t mean to lie or worry you. I am dumb for not realizing how this is for you, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to push my limits. And I just slipped today. It’s not a big deal, I swear.” You keep stroking his cheek as you move your T-shirt up and your pants a little down with the other hand to show him your scratches and bruise. “It’s not that bad, see?”
He chokes, bringing his flesh fingers to your bruise before caressing your skin. You close your eyes enjoying his touch.
“You don’t have to prove any fucking thing, do you hear me? You’re incredible. You’re so smart and intuitive, and I am never fucking busy for you!” He sighs. “If that’s how I make you feel, you should leave me, okay?”
You open your eyes, panicked. “What? Are you breaking up with me?”
“You don’t deserve to live like this. You are not just enough, you are everything.”
“James!” You start sobbing, bringing your lips to his face, then down to his shoulder as you hug him. He’s absolutely the most wonderful person in the whole world, and he didn’t deserve this. “Don’t say that. Ever. Don’t ask me to leave you ever again!”
“You’re hurt.” He repeats.
“I’m sorry I hid it from you. It’s not something you did, it’s never about something you did, you’re perfect.”
Bucky snorts. “Lies.”
“Except for when you leave the lights on in the bathroom.”
This makes him laugh, and you laugh too, happy that he’s in a better mood. You do hate telling him to turn off the light every day, but that’s not the point.
“Please, don’t lie to me... don’t hide. This is unbearable.”
You lean back, letting him go. “I promise. I didn’t want to hurt or worry you. Or interrupt you.”
“Bubba, it’s work. It comes on second place. Always! I want... need you to call me. We are a team, not strangers.”
“I am sorry,” you whimper, emotional after hearing him. He’s absolutely right, you’re a team. He always got your back, and you got his.
“It’s alright as long as you understand what I mean. We can try to work on it together.”
You melt, looking at him, still not believing how beautiful he is. How smart he is. How he cares more about you than his job.
“You’re all mine,” you say without thinking.
“What?”
“You’re all mine and you care about me more than directing.”
“Did you really question that?” He asks surprised.
“I mean... you’ve been directing before you met me. That’s your priority because that’s your passion.”
“You are my passion and my family. You are my priority,” he says it so fiercely and firmly that the need to kiss him overwhelms you.
“God, you’re so hot!”
He smiles. That smile you love so much…
“How are you doing this? I cannot stay upset with you even for a minute.”
“I’m your family,” you proudly repeat and teasingly peck him.
“You are. You are my reckless baby.” He tries to kiss you this time, but you turn your head. “What was that?”
You giggle, and when he tries again, you give him your cheek. You know this is gonna drive him crazy a little bit, and that’s exactly what you want.
“This is not nice!”
“But you know what is?” You smirk. “You coming all over my boobs.”
His eyes immediately fall on them, and you make sure to push him further by getting your hands under your shirt, unhooking your bra and taking it off awkwardly but quickly before bringing your tits together and presenting them to him. “They’re all yours if you want.”
Your hard nipples are visible through the thin material of the shirt, and you see him fully distracted.
“Come on, daddy!”
“The buttons look quite sturdy.” It’s all he says before they’re flying across the living room; your shirt ripped and pulled until it reaches the floor. He looks drunk as he stares at your chest, and when he leans in, you grab your left boob and feed it to him before he can do it himself. You let out a long moan at the same time he does.
He places his head on your other boob, tickling you a little as he sucks on your nipple with desperation.
“God, sooo good!”
His hand on the side of you tit gives him more control, and you moan every time he squeezes and licks your skin.
“Daddy, please...” you didn’t know what you’re asking him to do. But you feel so sensitive and wet, and his tongue is incredible.
But he knows. He knows! He lets go of your nipple with a pop and turns to the other breast, giving it the same treatment, while, at the same time, he wraps his hand around your hair and pulls.
He tightens his grip, then loosens it. He’s playing with both: your nipple and your hair, and you’re almost floating.
“Pull h-harder!”
He doesn’t edge you, thankfully, even though you expected him to, and pulls your hair just the way you like it and brushes your nipple with his teeth at the same time before sucking it with force. And you come before you can warn him.
Your head falls back more and you instinctively wrap your hand around his hair, trying to keep his mouth there. As if he wanted to move…
“Thank you, I really needed that.”
Bucky understands he has to let go and he kisses your boobs one last time before you pull him up by the shirt until you can kiss him.
“I didn’t know you can come like this.” He looks like an excited kid. You had no idea, either. You never came while playing with your nipples only.
“I didn’t know, either, old man.”
Bucky groans. “Old man again?”
“My old man.”
He kisses your neck this time, careful not to leave hickeys. He did it once right before a filming day and you were so embarrassed when they had to put extra make up on, but it still didn’t get covered, so they gave you a polo T-shirt.
“You know I am gonna try this again, right?”
“Sucking my nipples?”
“And making you come.”
You smile, touching his bottom lip with your thumb. “Beginner’s luck.” You tease and he instantly gasps.
“You did not say that to your old man!”
He intends to tickle you, you can sense it right away, but he stops himself as soon as he notices your bruise on the hip. His face falls. Shit...
“Hey, it’s okay!”
“No, it’s not.” He leans in to kiss all over it so softly you barely can feel it.
“God, I love you. I cannot believe how soft you are right now after you pulled the shit out of my hair!”
Bucky’s eyes lighten as he looks at you. “You act as if you don’t want it rough. Do I have to remind you how you begged me to fuck your throat?”
You groan, feeling how your cheeks get hot as you remember the night he probably refers to You really did. You were so turned on by his look that you were ready to jump on him right there at the table. “You don’t remind a lady of things she does when she’s weak. It’s rude!”
“Weak?” Bucky laughs. “Then you are weak almost every day.”
“I love you and I am sorry.” You let your lips linger on the dimple of his chin that you adore.
“I love you, too.”
You look around. “You ripped my good shirt!”
“Not again,” Bucky snorts. “Why do you act as if it doesn’t make you horny, huh?”
“You cannot be serious. Of course not!” You’re lying through your teeth and he knows it.
“For this lie, I’ll tie up your hands nicely next time.”
“James!” You gasp. You wouldn’t be able to touch him. “You cannot do this to me!”
Bucky’s metal thumb touches your bottom lip.
“Keep going and I’ll blindfold you too. Then edge you, then-”
“I get it!” You interrupt him, aware of where this is going.
“Do you? Cause you’re quite a brat.”
“You love that I’m a brat, don’t lie.”
Bucky’s smile is so cute that it makes you smile, too. “I do. I really do, now let’s take a shower.
“What?”
“What what?” He asks you as he stands up.
“Aren’t you going back to work?”
“Nope.” He’s so casual as he says it, and you can’t believe it.
“Bucky...”
“It’s James, and I’ve already told them. Nick will take care of it, don’t worry. You’re my priority, I’ll keep reminding you until you stop forgetting.”
You feel yourself melting again.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#celebrity!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#dilf!bucky#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#director!bucky barnes#director!bucky#dilf!bucky barnes#my stories#my fanfics#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#sebastian stan
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KARMA— JACK HUGHES
jack hughes x fem!reader
part of the Midnights Fic List
summary: in which y/n’s ex-best friend has been gossiping behind y/n’s back saying that Jack should be with her instead, so y/n shows that karma goes both ways.
specific lyrics: “you’re talking shit, for the hell of it. addicted to betrayal.” and “ask me what i learned from all those years. ask me what i earned from all those tears.” and “karma is my boyfriend, karma is a god, karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend, karma’s a relaxing thought”
warnings: toxic friendship mentions, light profanity
notes: this is pretty short, i didn’t feel like this one should be too long, i wanted it to be pretty simple just like the song
“did you hear about what Carley said last week?” i hear as soon as i sit down in my seat at brunch.
“no.” i shake my head. “what did she say now?”
“she was out with her friends, and Nicole and Jesper were sat by her at the restaurant; overheard her saying that Jack should be with her instead of you. apparently she’s convinced that he’s only pitying you and she deserves him because she’s ‘richer, prettier, and has more followers’.” Ryleigh says. “what a bitch! i can’t believe you were ever friends with her.“
“karma is a bitch, it’ll get to her one day.” i shrug. “she wasn’t much different when we were friends. claimed i ‘stole’ Jack from her because ‘she saw him first’, but he and i had already been dating by the time she saw him. we just hadn’t been public yet.”
“but, you’re literally the sweetest person i’ve ever met. i’m just saying, i don’t understand how you could’ve been friends with her for so long.” Darya chimes in, setting her mimosa down in front of her.
“i was friends with her since we were ten, she’s always been this way. a lot of my tears were from her hand. she insisted she would do things in the name of friendship and ‘bettering me’, but eventually, i learned that she was just a horrible person and i should stop excusing her actions. as i said, karma will get to her eventually.” i explain as i scan the menu in front of me. i know how Carley is. it doesn’t exactly surprise me that she’s talking bad about me, she used to do it even while we were friends.
“well, karma isn’t coming fast enough. that girl needs to be humbled soon.” Ryleigh exclaims and Darya nods in agreement. before i can respond, the waiter comes to take our orders and the subject changes.
**
i’m sat in glass seats at a Devils home game, waiting for them to come out for warmups. i switch between glass seats and the WAGS box every few games. i like hanging out with the girls but, i love to see the smile on Jack’s face when the Devils score. especially when he scores and he gets to look over at me and see that i watched and that i’m cheering for him. it’s not too long before warmups start that someone sits at the end of my row, and i look over to see Carley and one of her friends. i choose to ignore her and the looks i know she’s giving me. i have a right to be here, and she’s allowed to come to a game if she wants, i don’t control that. it’s when the warmups start that i have a problem with her. i’m looking down at my phone, texting Ryleigh when Jack skates by, banging a hand on the glass in front of me to get my attention. i startle, jumping in my seat and dropping my phone, and he laughs.
“hi baby!” i immediately recognize the voice yelling down the row. i look over to see Carley staring straight at Jack as he skates past her. he turns around, skating backwards and giving her a weird look before looking at me with a ‘what the fuck?’ face. i shrug my shoulders. what possessed her to make her think that calling my boyfriend ‘baby’ is okay?
i let the comment roll off my back, it’s whatever. i know that Jack has tons of fans, he’s talented, he’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a total package, i get it.
“score a goal for me tonight, babe!” i hear her call out. that’s when my problem starts. and my anger only increases after warmups, when i overhear her talking to her friend. “eventually, he’s gonna realize how much better he can do than y/n. and i’ll be there with open arms when he does.”
i remind myself to stay in my seat. i’ve turned a blind eye to her glares, i’ve let her gossiping fall on deaf ears instead of making a scene or causing drama, and i know it’ll be worth it in the end. i was raised to remember that karma is a powerful thing, and that it goes both ways. you do bad things, something will knock you down a peg. you do good things, you’ll have good luck. it’s common sense. but apparently she didn’t get the message.
**
“babe, come look at this!” Jack calls to me from our bed. it’s officially the off season and Jack and i have been at the Hughes lake house for the past couple days. it’s been nice being surrounded by his family and even a few of our friends.
“what’s up, love?” i ask, walking out of the closet where i was picking out a cover up to wear out on the boat. i slip the sundress i chose over my head and pull it down over my bikini.
“come see what Bratter just sent me.” i flop myself down on the bed next to him, laying on my side and cuddling into him, an arm wrapping around his torso. he tilts his phone screen towards me and i read the text that Jesper sent him.
—
From: Jesper Bratt
took Nicole out to lunch and she pointed out a girl that she said is obsessed with you. said her name was Carley. heard her talking to someone, saying you guys were destined to be together 😂 even heard her say that y/n isn’t good enough for you? does this girl have nothing better to do?
—
“she really just won’t stop, will she?” my question is rhetorical but Jack answers anyways.
“she’ll get the message soon enough. i don’t want her.” his words make me furrow my brows but i nod anyways. “you ready to head out?”
“yeah, let’s go.” we stand from the bed, making our way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, meeting the others in the living room before heading down to the dock and onto the boat. i sit and watch as all the guys take turns wakesurfing, choosing not to participate and instead enjoying the summer evening air.
“babe! babe, c’mere!” Jack calls from the back of the boat, where he’s currently wakesurfing. i stand, walking over and bending over the back of the boat so i can hear him.
“look at you, superstar!” i chime, grinning at him. he laughs and shakes his head.
“no, i wanted to say that i wanna take you on a walk around the lake when we get back.” i admire his smile for a few moments, just nodding in response and watching his face all lit up with joy. this man makes me so happy.
i keep myself rooted in that spot until he decides he’s done and gets back on the boat, letting Luke take his place. he looks at me with a wicked grin and i know exactly what he’s planning to do, but the boat is only so big and he catches me quite easily. pulling me to him, getting me wet with the cold water dripping from his hair and body. i shiver and let out a squeal; halfheartedly attempting to push him away. i feel my feet lift off the ground as Jack moves over to the bench seats, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap.
“now my cover up is all wet!” i feign a pout, but all he does is laugh, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.
“i’ll make it up to you. promise.” he squeezes me tighter to his chest and i shuffle down in order to lay my head on his chest, getting the side of my face wet in the process, but i don’t care. “i love you.”
“i love you too.” i smile, turning my head slightly to lay a kiss on his chest.
*
when we park back at the dock, Jack lets the guys know we’ll be back up to the house soon and pulls his hoodie over his head. he slings one arm around my shoulders, holding me to his side, and sticks his free hand in his hoodie pocket. we continue to walk along the lakeside in silence, just enjoying the last moments of sunset and the sounds of nature. i stop Jack a few times in order to point out pretty birds or various other beautiful nature moments. i let go of him once more, stepping closer to the water and letting him fall behind me.
“Jack, look at the way the sunset is reflecting off the lake! it’s gorgeous.” i turn to look back at him, checking to see i have his attention, but when i catch sight of him, one knee on the ground with a ring box opened in his hands and a watery smile on his face, my hands fly up to my mouth.
“y/n, i texted Quinn right after i met you, telling him i just met the love of my life. at the time, i thought maybe i was over exaggerating, but then i got to know you, and i knew i wasn’t. these past two and a half years with you have been the best of my life, and i was hoping you’ll choose to continue that. y/f/n, will you marry me?” his voice wavers, laced with emotion, and tears spring to my eyes.
“yes. god, yes! a million times yes!” i exclaim and he takes my hand, slipping the ring in my finger as he stands and i pull him into a kiss. my hands hold his face to mine and he grips my hips. pulling away, i wipe the tears from his cheeks and then mine. “i love you so much.”
“i love you so much more, pretty girl.”
—
@itsmey/n just posted
Liked by @_quinnhughes and 26,372 others
@itsmey/n summer nights 🤍
karma is so good to me
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@user1 THEY’RE ENGAGED?! THIS IS SO EXCITING
@_quinnhughes congrats guys! welcome to the family y/n
@itsmey/n thank you huggy!
@user2 OMG!
@jackhughes my forever girl ❤️💍
@itsmey/n so grateful for you
@trevorzegras congrats you two! happy for you guys!
@itsmey/n thank you, z! better clear some time from your summer golfing schedule next year!
#jack hughes#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes x reader#nhl fic#nhl imagine#nj devils#faithlynn’s writings <3#midnights fic list#babydollmarauders
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So I’m aware it’s no longer Valentine’s day but enough people liked part one so here’s part 2 of my Valentine’s Post
———————————————
The past couple days had not been fun for Steve. It started on the 12th when Eddie went on a tirade about how much he hated Valentine’s day and wouldn’t ever celebrate it. Steve knew his crush was hopeless already but that was just painful to hear, especially knowing that Eddie didn’t even know it was Steve’s birthday.
When Eddie had left to go help Nancy plan her date with Robin, he had dropped his head onto the counter with a groan.
“It might have been easier if he said he didn’t like me at all.” Robin rubbed his back gently.
“I know. How does he not know it’s your birthday though? Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I don’t like celebrating my birthday usually. I mean, most of the kids don’t even know when it is, but I was going to tell him on the actual day, maybe guilt him into hanging out with me and I could pretend it was a date.”
“Dingus, Steve, platonic love of my life, that is sad.” Steve just groaned again and Robin moved away from him to get back to stocking the shelves like she had been. “At some point you need to just tell him how you feel.”
“Thanks but no thanks, I’m okay existing in ignorance.”
“Steve.” He sat up and turned to her, crossing his arms.
“Robin. You know why I don’t want to take the chance.”
She sighed, looking at the case in her hand briefly before turning to him again. “I know, and as unrealistic as it is, I do wish that the conversation you and Nancy had fixed your insecurities so you could be happy. But I know there are other insecurities there, I just wish you could get something good for yourself.” He gave her a small smile, but he knew she could see how fake it was.
Now, two days later, they were back in Family Video. Robin had insisted that she had to sleep over the night before because it was his birthday and she had woken him up with (thankfully) store bought cinnamon buns and coffee. She had also thrown glitter over him as soon as he was dressed for work, telling him that it was to set the mood for the day.
He hated it then, he still hates it now as he bends over to pick up a tape and glitter falls out of his hair even hours later. It was just after the lunch rush had ended and Steve was dreading the dinner rush, especially since it meant a hoard of boyfriends coming to get last minute movies for Valentine’s day. He just wanted to curl up on his couch with ice cream and the bottle of wine he bought himself.
Robin had been weird all day too. First it was picking out his outfit, including his so-called “ass jeans”, then it was the glitter, then she had been playing the weirdest romcoms in the store. She had somehow been slipping little origami hearts into his pockets all day without him noticing. Things really got weird when he reached into his pocket and found something that wasn’t a little paper heart - it was more solid and felt metallic. Taking it out, he found a Hersey kiss and a note taped to it.
“Rob, I know you feel bad about me not having a date but you don’t need to sneak me chocolate.” He looked over at her for her response and immediately clocked her scheming face. “Robin. What are you doing?”
“Nothing! Just read the little note! I was paid handsomely for that so you better open it.” He just rolled his eyes and looked back at the chocolate. Deciding that he might as well, he opened the note and read it.
“Sweetheart, normally you get spankings but I figured a birthday kiss was a better way to start <3”
“Robin, why the fuck did you give me this?!”
“I’m not super happy about being roped into this, I promise, but I was paid for my time. Just wait, there’s more to come apparently.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Much to his disappointment, Robin refused to say anything more. And she stayed that way for the rest of their shift, including up to the moment they parted ways so she could get into Nancy’s waiting car.
He ended up forgetting all about it when he opened his wine and started in on the ice cream, until he heard muffled music from the backyard. Climbing out of his blanket nest with a frown he worked his way over to the back door and saw Eddie standing there with a boombox raised above his head. He was looking up at Steve’s bedroom window, and he had Madonna, of all things, blasting through the speakers.
“What the hell are you doing, Eddie?” Clearly Eddie hadn’t heard him open the sliding doors and he jumped, nearly dropping the boombox.
“Steve! How did you-were you not upstairs?”
“No, I was watching a movie on the couch. Still not answering the question though.” Steve crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame to look Eddie over. For once his jeans weren’t ripped and he had a plain t shirt on under his jacket. He looked more put together than usual but Steve couldn’t figure out why.
“Shit, uh, that sort of changes my plans but I can work with this. No tower serenade, that’s fine-“
“Sorry, serenade? What is going on, Eddie?” Eddie just sighed in response before seeming to steel himself.
“I fucked up, badly, the other day. I got wrapped up in my own opinions and I didn’t even consider how you felt about Valentine’s day - let alone that it was apparently your birthday. Nancy was actually the one to let me in on it, she asked what I was planning. And uh, well, I got her to help me plan this whole thing, but I was kind of hoping that you would be in your room so that you couldn’t see how terrified I am-“
“Wait, Eddie, I’m confused, why-“ Eddie just held a hand up to stop Steve before continuing to speak.
“I was going to give you this whole speech about how I’ve been in love with you for months now but I’ve been way too scared to say anything and even though I seriously messed up, at least it gave me a kick in the ass, so uh-“
“Wait.” Steve had to stop him there, because he was getting the picture but he needed to do a couple things first.
The first thing was rushing forward, grabbing Eddie’s face in his hands and kissing him right on the mouth.
The second, while Eddie was still shocked from the kiss was to say, “hold that thought. I’m going to run up to my room and we can try again.” Grinning like an idiot, Steve ran back into his house and up the stairs. He had never been serenaded before but he was excited to try it.
Taglist
@nburkhardt @i-less-than-three-you @nelotegreitic @liketheocean @darkwitchoferie @4nemo1egend @scarletyeager @the-redthread @thev01dd
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#and here it is almost a week late but I thought it was cute#i just see eddie as a ”pebbles at the window after dark” boyfriend so a boombox serenade felt on brand
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Meant To Stay The Worst - Pt. 5
Alastor x reader
Marriage ♡
Tags: ongoing, marriage, confessions / proposals, manipulation and toxic relationships, canon typical violence and language
((<- Pt. 4 - Pt. 6 ->))
*
After being together for about 8 months in total, the two of you started seriously planning your wedding together.
While things weren't going well in the world right now, it only brought the two of you even closer.
Alastor and you had been planning your future home together for quite some time now. While the complicated things... like electricity or heating systems were left to Alastor and your father, you spent much more time with Alastor's mother and even his friend Mimzy.
Alastor's mother in particular was extremely happy for you and her son and always invited you to excitedly talk about Alastor's childhood and showed you a few photographs of him as a child. You could tell that she already loved you really much and saw you as part of the family. Which was further proven with how she insisted you call her 'mother'.
What you appreciated the most though, was that you had much more time to spend on your art and thoughts, and for the first time in your life you weren't put down for it. In fact, Alastor genuinely made an effort to let you know how much he appreciated your mind, art and the way you think quite often.
He even talked about you and why he likes your art on his radio show.
You were plannig to have a small radio station for Alastor on your future property, too.
While he was obviously not perfect: he definitely had some fucked-up morals at the very least; you were almost completely sure of his loyalty towards you at this point, despite your trust issues.
He never gave you any reason to think he'd even look at another woman or man in a weird way. In fact, he even went out of his way to express his extreme dislike towards cheating and betrayal.
(He once recommended a book to you where the husband cheats on his wife and she murders him, cooks him and eats him in response-)
While you never planned to; you were extremely sure that if you were ever to make the mistake of betraying Alastor in that way, you would definitely not survive it. Obviously this would be an extremely red flag in like... every situation.
But since you never did plan on betraying him and you were sure of his loyalty because of it, you digressed
The two of you had an unspoken understanding between each other: one that would be seen as problematic by almost anyone else.
You supported each other in everything.
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"Y/N, my love..." You looked into Alastor's eyes, who recited his wedding vows to you.
Your heart was beating louder and faster than it ever has and you tried holding back tears to not look like a pussy or ruin your fucking make-up (it was very expensive).
And Alastor looked at you with pure love in his eyes. Which touched you to your core, since even when it was just the two of you he had a hard time letting his mask slip completely. But now it did.
"I love you. And I'm beyond grateful, to have you in my life and to have you want me in yours. So thank you, for giving your heart to me. I promise I will treat it like the most precious thing I have ever received. And I promise I will spend my entire life to protect you and make you the happiest woman in the world. I love you. So thank you for choosing me, being with me, and taking my last name."
You tried blinking away your tears and cleared your throat, so your voice wouldn't break.
"Alastor, I... I love you. More than I ever thought I was capable to love anyone-" You paused for a second, suddenly forgetting the lines you prepared and your heart started beating even faster - you thought you were actually going into cardiac arrest for a moment.
"I- I.... I'll-" you gritted your teeth and cleared your throat again.
Okay, get your fucking shit together now, Y/N.
"I will always stay with you. Through life and death. And I promise I will always be by your side. Through health and sickness; even if the whole world was against you." You managed to somewhat stutter out the rest of your speech.
And eventhough you fucked up, Alastor seemed to be geniunely touched by your words and gently moved his hand to hold your cheek.
The officiant probably told Alastor he can kiss you now, but you weren’t completely sure - it was like there was only static in your head, sending you on the verge of passing out.
You only regained the full awareness of your surroundings again, when you felt Alastor press his lips on to yours while the audience in your wedding cheered.
Even your family was there and you had to admit, that even when most of them were assholes and didn't care about you, they at least knew how to behave in a social setting.
Your offical wedding went better than you thought it would, your father led you to 'give you away' to Alastor and also held a speech later on.
(Your brother did too, but it was way more embarrassing since he insisted on bringing up embarrassing childhood memories and mentioning how he thought you'd die alone over and over again.)
When the official ceremony was over you held an after party with only your closest friends and Alastor's mother.
That part of the day was even more enjoyable than the first one. With a lot of music and dancing and only your closest friends giving you heartfelt words and gifts.
On the wedding night both of you treated each other patiently and lovingly.
...
During your marriage you tried the houswife / cooking and cleaning part as best as you could.
Though the cooking part went badly most of the time and Alastor ended up cooking dinner anyway...
(Though you did pride yourself on the fact that eventhough you couldn't cook very well, you could make good sandwiches. And Alastor was at least polite enough to pretend like that was at least somewhat comparable. )
The cleaning part went a little better. Although you did tend to hyperfixate on certain parts and neglect others from time to time...
All in all both of you had a very happy marriage. You loved each other. Even after the 'honeymoon phase'.
You always had enough money and supported each other's hobbies, while following your own.
Your own drawings and writings changed to be of or inspired by Alastor. Which was something he noticed (because he sniffed around your stuff), although he never mentioned it to you. And it did inflate his ego even more than it already was.
At the same time you knew, that his 'hunting trips' weren't for hunting animals, at least 9 out of 10 times.
But you were already sure of that before you even married him.
And since his radio studio was right next to your house right now, you could spend most of your time together.
You knew when he was going out to kill someone.
In fact you sometimes almost casually, although subtly, chatted about it with each other.
Talking about another bad person who would be better off dead. And the next day they were.
You liked this way more than you should. And Alastor obviously did too, since a lot of your most passionate nights ignited right after one of his 'hunting trips'.
You watched him clean off blood when he came back and helped him doing so more than once.
Alastor also made a great deal out of showing you actual self-defense and teaching you how to shoot, in case he wasn't there.
After a couple of years, you talked about expanding your family and even trying for a child.
Until one day the police knocked on your door.
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Tag list:
@cryptidghostgirl @adeadreader @yourdoorisunlocked @spirit-of-the-hollow @droopingdatura @reikamasama @over-the-little-blue-house @wonderlandangelsposts @mysterypotatoink
(♡♡ thanks sm for your support! Tell me if you want to be added or removed)
A/N: Thank you for reading :D
Next chapter will be here soon and angsty.
Btw, I think this should be obvious, but I still wanna say that actually marrying someone in these circumstances would be quite stupid. This is like the perfect set up for an abusive relationship. But! This is fictional, so I'm writing this in a way it just works out for the two of them.
+ my girls, my boys, my nonbinary friends!! If you want me to actually write out the smut pls tell me if u actually want that. Bc I can, but I'm not sure if ppl actually want that. So comment pls (or write anonymously in my inbox) I'm just gonna do whatever I wanna do otherwise obviously, but I'd like to hear feedback anyways lol.
(On this note: thanks to 🍷 anon for your message :D I appreciate it. I'm just not answering publicly to avoid spoilers in case I'm using one of your suggestions(: )
Also this is obv to 90% an Oc/self-insert, so don't kill me if it's not 100% neutral, just change it in your head or don't read idk.
#x reader#fanfic#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor
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okay but - hear me out,
Steddie au where after the upside down, Eddie survives, all is well, and he and Steve end up getting closer (what with helping the kids heal and what not, and if they happened to start focusing on healing with one another, well who had to know?) but with the amount of head trauma Steve had, he slowly starts losing his memory piece by piece. Eventually Eddie catches on, and it’s just the little things that give it away (I.E Steve not remembering stuff he normally would, and yeah, Eddie passed it off a few times because Steve’s forgetful, but never like this). Eddie finally makes Steve schedule a consult with his doctor and wouldn’t you know it, Steve’s memory is slowly deteriorating. The doctor says he has a couple months before Steve’s memory is completely gone, blank, a fresh canvas. And maybe this could be a fresh start, but steve doesn’t see it that way. In a fit of panic, Steve makes Eddie vow to not tell the kids or Robin or Nancy, makes Eddie vow to take this to the grave despite Eddie’s claims that this isn’t what they’d want. Eddie wakes up one day a few months in to Steve’s side of the bed completely cold, the sheets frozen and smoothed over to the touch like they’ve been void of warmth and weight for well over a few hours now. All that’s in his place is a stack of envelopes, all in Steve’s sloppy hand writing Eddie’s come to know so well. There’s letters addressed to all the kids, to Robin, to nancy, there’s even one addressed to hopper and Joyce. And lastly, Eddie’s name is scrawled out on the very last one.
Fast forward roughly around 2 years later: Eddie tried to move on from Steve, he really did. It was rough. God it was so rough not only for him, but watching his friends and family go through losing their Steve too. Eddie would be lying if he said he gave up on looking for Steve, god he’s been looking for Steve since he opened up that god forsaken envelope. And yet, despite searching high and low, Steve pops up when Eddie was least expecting.
Corroded Coffin hasn’t made it big yet, but they’re slowly gaining traction as they make it around to different towns to do small gigs. They’re currently stationed out in butt fuck nowhere in a small town in Indiana, and Jeff insisted on walking around the town. Eddie eventually wanders off on his own, claiming if he doesn’t get caffeine in him in the next 3 minutes he’s gonna fall asleep to the sound of Gareth’s rambling. He walks up a block until he finds a small coffee shop. It’s not the cutest thing, obviously is being worked on and reconstructed, but as long as they have coffee, Eddie could care less. The bell rings to the small glass door as Eddie pushes it open. There’s paintings lying on the booths and the smell of fresh paint hits him. Maybe the open sign in the window was put up too early?
“Be right with you!” A soft voice calls from the back, and Eddie shrugs off his previous thought, shoving his hands in his pocket as he takes a look at the (incomplete) chalk board above the counter. Eddie turns to look at the paintings scattered across the small shop, taking in the hues of different colors and landscapes. They’re good.
“Sorry about the clutter, renovating. I just opened” the voice from the back says, now closer. And maybe the soft scratchy drawl should’ve been more obvious, or maybe the weird presence eddie feels sitting hot on his gut, but Eddie almost pukes when he smells Farrah Faucet hairspray in his vicinity, and that should’ve been sign enough. But still, Eddie turns to the sound he used to fall asleep to, and the overwhelming smell that once used to sweep his pillows, and everything in him plummets to the floor because standing in clear daylight is Steve fucking Harrington. Eddie thinks he’s gonna be sick.
Something must register in Eddie’s demeanor, because Steve is saying something, but all Eddie can hear is static.
“Steve?” Eddie asks out shakily, reaching out before thinking better of it and moving his hand back like he’s been burned.
“Uh, yeah that’s me? Do I know you?” Steve asks, and Eddie’s heart plummets even farther. A wet chuckle makes its way up Eddie’s throat, and yeah, not his best move, but it’s better than the bile that was following close behind.
“I uh - I-“ and this isn’t happening right now. This is some fucked up dream Eddie’s having, a figment of his fucked imagination. A bad trip. He has to leave. But he can’t get his legs to work.
“You okay sir?” Steve asks gently, putting his hand delicately on Eddie’s shoulder and it takes every fiber and being in Eddie not to break down in sobs over the contact. A part of Eddie wants to yell at Steve, wants to scream and cry and ask why, but the other part, the more… logical part, knows why. Knows why Steve did what he did. Knows that the Steve standing in front of him isn’t the Steve he was 2 years ago. So Eddie does the only rational thing he knows how to do and he asks a detour question.
“Where are the paintings from?” He asks shakily, and Steve gives him an odd look, as if trying to read him. But he dismisses it and Eddie thanks a god he doesn’t quite believe in.
“Oh, um, here actually. Or, well my studio.” Steve says shyly, a blush coming to sit high on his cheeks and yeah, Eddie fucking missed that color.
“Studio?” Eddie asks, trying to calm his racing nerves
“Yeah, I uh, I painted them” Steve says, and Eddie’s heart breaks because here’s another piece of Steve eddie doesn’t know anything about. He doesn’t know anything about his Steve. What kind of world is he living in when he knows nothing about him? And maybe what he does next wasn’t throughly thought out, and yeah, maybe Eddie is chasing after a dead star, but Eddie also thinks he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t do what he does.
“I uh, I’ll be right back. I have to make a call outside.” Eddie stutters out, slowly walking back towards the door. He hastily grabs his phone out, almost tripping over his own feet as he gets ahold of it. He calls the band, calls his manager, and calls the kids and Robin back home. He doesn’t tell them why, or how long he’ll be, only tells them he’s on a mission. And when they ask if this mission will be worth it, Eddie has no idea, but he thinks falling in love with Steve Harrington once more might be pretty well worth it.
Or: basically eddie learns how to fall in love with the new Steve and Steve has no idea he’s already fallen in love with Eddie once before
#ignore spelling mistakes I scrambled to write this#I need this#my poor babies#steve harrington#stranger things#eddie munson#steddie#steve stranger things#eddie stranger things#steve x eddie#robin buckley#steddie angst#steddie drabble#steddie fic ideas#steve harrington whump#steddie fic#steddie au
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The evans about PDA?😀
The Evans + PDA
Tate:
tate is all talk no game. like literally when he’s talking with all his other nerd friends he’s like ‘yeah lmao i get bitches i smash all the time’ and then somebody would be like ‘prove it’ and then he just can’t. you make him nervous, he can’t help it, especially when around others. the most he’ll do is hold your hand sometimes, but when you initiate any form of pda, he’s more lenient, he’s just too scared to start it himself. you can kinda do whatever to him and he takes it like a champ, especially if you do it quickly and don’t give him enough time to get flustered, like things that come second nature to you. for example, picking something out of his hair or wiping something off his face, or pulling out one of those cheesy tricks to put your arm around someone, if you’re smooth enough with it he won’t complain.
Kit
hmm kit is just. he is so. he’s traditional in his pda. he enjoys it but not like some of the weird shit people do in public. he holds your hand, puts his arm around you, gives you a kiss no problem, and he’s fine if you reciprocate these things in your own time, but he has some boundaries for things that go down in public. things like sitting in his lap, cuddling in a room with other people in it, etc somewhat pushes them but ultimately he allows it, but then things like full on make out sessions or any type of groping he doesn’t let slide. he won’t be rude about it or embarrass you or make a scene because he is the perfect man, but he’ll just hug you tight and whisper ‘later, hun’ because he can tell if you started it, then it’s something you need, so he lets you know he’ll attend to you and your needs later, in private where those things are supposed to happen.
Kyle
frat kyle for sure loves it when you pay attention to him in front of his frat buddies because it shows how he gets bitches, which he pretends is his main agenda. since he got bitches (you) his new agenda is to maintain bitches (keep you happy). especially at parties and stuff, he’s always down for a good make out session, he doesn’t care who sees because he wants people to see you with him because you’re so goddamn hot, particularly if you’re both a little tipsy, he’ll let basically anything slide. he’s not super handsy all the time, but he’ll grab you every now and then on a regular day in public, maybe giving a little kiss on the cheek or forehead.
franken kyle though. he insists you be touching, any time of the day, any occasion, regardless of who is in the room or what’s happening at the moment. it could be the end of the world and he would still want a cuddle and a little kiss. it’s cute but sometimes it can get a little annoying because say you’re trying to pay attention to something like homework or something important like that and he’ll just come over and sit right on top of you, regardless of if you’re bigger or smaller than him, he doesn’t care he is just a big lap dog, and he’ll whine at you if you don’t hold him whenever he wants it (which is always). or you’re trying to have a conversation and he comes over and kisses you. luckily, he’s not that into deep making out so it’s usually just a quick kiss but it gets on one’s nerves every now and then.
Jimmy
jimmy gets embarrassed about it a little easily. like he could fuck a girl in front of a thousand people fine but as soon as you hug him and kiss his cheek, he gets all shy and stuff. he’s so used to his every move being on display that he tries to keep the most important things private, like you. he doesn’t want the world gawking at you together like he knows they would if they saw you. he’ll offer a quick kiss in passing if you’re both busy but happen to run into each other somewhere, but he doesn’t want it to last too long.
James
james is a very traditional man in romance, but also loves to rebel from societal norms in some ways. he is okay with a small act of public groping as long as it’s him to you, but if you ever get too close to his no-no square (why did i say that i’m sorry) at the bar or something, he will just grab both your wrists in his hands and set them back down in your lap. but he will come up behind you and fondle your boobs if he wants to. it’s his hotel, so he will express his undying love to you whenever, wherever, and however he chooses. sometimes is a spontaneous romantic, like the interrupt your conversation with someone else with a passionate kiss, then leaving just as sudden as he came. he’s also oddly into skin caressing (idk if this is a serial killer thing or just a james thing) and it’s something he does to you in public, even when you find it strange and as does everyone else in the room now watching, he does not care one bit.
Kai
probably the least into pda on this list. can’t have the divine ruler looking weak and vulnerable under the touch of someone else. he is not very tolerant at all on pretty much anything. he doesn’t mind when other couples display pda, but for personal reasons, he does not support it for himself. and he doesn’t care if he’s being rude about it. if you grab his hand to hold it, he’ll shoo your hand away, he never lets you cuddle up next to him in a chair or on a couch, NEVER hug him, and he’ll even be petty enough to wipe your kisses from his skin once you’ve placed them there. not to say he doesn’t love you, you’re one of the things in this world he cares most about, and in private, he’s fine with being vulnerable with you, he’ll be the little spoon, let you touch his hair, kiss him, cuddle him all you want, he just can’t have people knowing he lets that happen (and how much he enjoys it).
#evan peters fanfiction#tate langdon#ahs#tate langdon x reader#american horror story#evan peters x reader#evan peters#evan peters x you#fluff#fanfic#kit walker x reader#kit walker#kyle spencer x reader#kyle spencer#jimmy darling x reader#jimmy darling#james patrick march x reader#james march x reader#james patrick march#kai anderson x reader#kai anderson
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Okay, divorce lawyer Hob has been rattling in my brain since you posted the original prompt. Gotta say I think he would make the best family lawyer. He's fiercely protective, worldly and street smart, and definitely has done terrible things for money.
I'm thinking he met Dream in college after the other kinda laughed at him getting his juris doctor at a mixer. Which lead to a highly competitive relationship of anything you can do I can do better when it came to grades and extracurriculars. Dream even joined the rowing team when Hob joined the swim team.
They've remained friends since. Hob is used to girlfriends and wives come and go. It was his idea to protect the Endless family money, which is most of Dream's wealth, behind a prenup. He's the one who drafts letters and notarizes things that need notarizing. He was also the one who set up a trust for Orpheus when he was born.
He comes over every summer to the annual family barbeque and has definitely helped keep Desire out of legal trouble when they've screwed the pooch. He also helped Destruction change his name and keep his portion of the inheritance when he left the family. He's just a damn fine lawyer and friend.
But he's not just a friend. What people don't know is that himself and Dream keep a relatively low key affair going on. It started in college when Hob came home drunk and interrupted a date between Dream and a girl from his art class. He scared her away with his gross manners and then started fighting with Dream. Things escalated from screaming to making out. They fucked that night with Hob being the one bent over the coffee table.
Every month since then they make their excuses and spend an extended weekend together. They go far for their little weekend getaways, so nobody sees them or knows them. They fuck all weekend long and then head back to live their boring, everyday lives.
That's not the only secret. Hob is also the one behind every break-up and divorce. It used to be just running the girls out of the college dorm. Then he had to use more indirect methods. Planting fake evidence of cheating, hiring men to seduce his friend's wife, playing mind games with Dream and telling him that he doesn't really love his wife/girlfriend. After all, why does he need them when he's got Hob?
Dream will never see his best friend, his other half, the smartest man he knows as he truly is and that's fine with Hob. Just as long as Dream keeps coming to him with messes to clean up. After all, he just loves his favourite client!
- 🤜 anon
Oh, Hob. You bastard. I love EVERYTHING about this. Law is the perfect profession for Hob (especially when he's breaking it).
The thing is, you can't feel too bad for Dream. The red flags are RIGHT THERE. Hob covers his tracks well in front of other people but with Dream, he doesn't even bother! So Dream knows every slimy, underhanded, down right nasty thing that Hob has ever done to him/for him, and he just... he's blinded ok. By platonic affection for his friend, or by sexual desire for the most fulfilling lover he's ever had, or maybe just dirty ole romantic love. He simply chooses not to see.
Its a weird, almost sadistic little game at this point. Dream finds a new obsession, a woman who is FAR too good for him but is unfortunately charmed by his passion. But even though the obsession never lasts, Dream insists on following through. This time the marriage will work, he insists. Hob doesn't even bother to hide the smirk. Sometimes he shows up at the wedding (they have absolutely fucked on Dream’s wedding day, more than once), sometimes he waits for Dream to come to him after a few weeks of wedded bliss.
Then comes the inevitable collapse of Dream’s relationship and Hob’s favourite part, the divorce. He's had Dream sign the papers while Hob is balls deep inside him. And he always likes to take a picture. Another one for his collection. And so the cycle begins anew.
They're awful. The only hope for decent society is that they'll eventually marry each other. But that wont happen for a bit - not before they've had their fun...
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okay so I had a really terrible thought and I’ve been following you for a while and I wanted to hear your thoughts (maybe i’m just in a place of doubt rn) BUT
since they’re basically writing the episodes as they go, and are seeing fans reactions (and possibly taking them into consideration as they write), do you think if they see such a positive reaction to buck/tommy, they’ll make him more long term (and possibly endgame)…? again, I could be overthinking it but I’ve been seeing a tON of buck tommy stuff and idk if they’re going to consider that when they write the upcoming episodes for the rest of the season…like buck/tommy is cute ig don’t get me wrong bc we see bisexual buck and him enjoy his first male relationship and like i’m so proud, but…i’m an eddie-girl and buddie has always been my endgame
Okay, hi, ngl, I had this exact thought too when Tim kept insisting there's no plan. But the thing is, I don't believe him. I believe he doesn't have the full plot locked and loaded, but I doubt he doesn't have any idea where the story is gonna take him. Personally, I doubt that a few weeks of excitement over Buck being bi will be louder than 5 years of people BEGGING for buddie to happen. Buck and Eddie have a compelling relationship that's been cultivated for YEARS. And, look, far from me to make Buck's bisexuality about Eddie, but making a character who's HEAVILY shipped with another man for years queer in season 7 while having no plan on following through with the love story they've been building for 6 seasons would be dumb. Buck with a new guy and Eddie doubling down on being straight and ending up with some random woman is the worst case scenario here. This fandom is weird in the way that most of it is mono shipping. It's Buck and Eddie together or nothing. So they would piss off the homophobes, who are already pissed, and a solid amount of the people who have been following buddie for years and that's bad for business. They have the power to have a ridiculously compelling queer love story that's built on a foundation that's been there for 6 seasons. Buck and Eddie getting together could be EPIC. And they made the move to make Buck queer. They didn't have to. I love that Buck is getting a queer storyline, but if we are going there with Buck, what's actually stopping them from going there with Eddie? I don't see how you can have one of them being queer and not go there just because people are excited that Buck is bi. Tim can't say it's gonna go there. That would be a spoiler. A huge spoiler. But narratively speaking, or from a business perspective, Buck being bi has to mean buddie getting together. Because that's what people have been wanting from them. And honestly, if they wanted to play Tommy as having any chance of being Buck's endgame, he wouldn't have so many parallels with Taylor. The TK of it all, the helicopter of it all, the kiss that happens because Eddie is injured, Buck is even wearing a shirt that looks like the one he's wearing when Taylor comes back, like, seriously, what the fuck? And that's not going into the symbolism they have to know is there on the way the loft itself is a symbol of romantic doom, because Buck got it in a relationship that instantly Ended and the 2 times he started something there it went up in flames, so like 🤨🤔 I'm curious to see where it's going, but, personally, don't see them actually lasting the rest of the show. At least that's what I'm telling myself to calm down when I panic and trip into the bad place lol
#i wanna trust ryan wouldn't be acting the way he was if what happened was just eddie being a Great Best Friend ™️ about Buck being by#but thats just my current line of thinking#i did lose hope yesterday for a while but im back in a better place#911#911 speculation#911 spoilers#i really need a tag for asks#i-love-tacoss
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A friends to lovers with Jason Todd. Pretty please 🙏
A/N: Thank you for the ask! This seems kind of off-topic, but if you'd like, I could write a sequel. Enjoy! :)
Update: Here's the sequel
To say it was weird would be an understatement. Dick was so used to seeing Jason and you glued to the hip, doing everything together, never growing tired of each other's presence. It drove him and the rest of the family crazy because it was so fucking obvious to everyone but the two of you how much you cared for and loved each other. The two of you were too clouded by your respective insecurities to understand.
So it was weird seeing Jason without you during his trip back to Gotham. He wanted to ask, but Damian had given a small shake of his head when Dick asked, stating that the situation was so trivial, that he wanted it to come out of Jason's mouth so he could see how childish it was.
He was able to find him in the greenhouse, occupied with Alfred's latest hobby that would entice him to visit the manor more. He'd seen Jason work with the plants; he was usually meticulous and gentle, sometimes talking to them as he repotted them and separated stubborn roots from the soil. The person he was staring at, however, was a terrible substitute; soil was strewn everywhere, and broken pots lay on the table as Jason harshly repotted some monsteras.
"Alfred's not gonna be too happy." Dick ignored the sweat rolling down his neck. He was never too fond of the stifling humidity.
"I'll buy him new ones," Jason grumbled, grunting when he finally got the monstera into its pot.
"Okay, okay, put the poor plant down before I call Ivy," He sighed when the pot was placed on the table, "You wanna tell me what's going on?"
It was Jason's turn to sigh as he tugged his gloves off. "It's nothing."
"You sure?" Jason nodded. "Then where's Y/N?"
"Fine, it's something." His brother sighed again. "You remember the new museum exhibit?"
"The mythology one? I remember you said Y/N and you were supposed to go yesterday." Dick paused, his eyes widening in realization. "Jason!"
"I know, I know! Okay, I'm an ass, but Black Mask had a last-minute shipment coming in. I had to be there."
"What did you tell them?"
Jason lowered his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. "That I didn't wanna waste my time."
"Jason!"
"I panicked, okay?! They called me right when the shipment ended and I needed to get down there," He groaned, "I've been trying to call, but I'm pretty sure I've been blocked."
"What'd you expect? Hey Jason, you were an ass to me, but that's okay."
"You're not making it any better."
"Why didn't you tell them what you were actually doing?"
Jason shook his head. "No, no. I can't. I can't- if they get hurt because of me, I'll never forgive myself. I can't-"
"Jay," Dick spoke softly to soothe his brother's worries. "Y/N deserves to know. Hell, out of everyone we've brought to the manor, they're at the top of the list. You've known them for ages and you trust each other. I'll be damned if you let your friendship end because you're scared."
Jason was quiet as he thought.
"I can't lose them, Dick."
The last time Dick heard Jason so vulnerable and honest was when he told him about his mom, about what happened to her. It had been ages since he let his guard down and Dick knew it was difficult for him, but he also knew how much Y/N meant to him, even if he didn't sometimes.
"You won't," He insisted, "Y/N's stubborn, they can handle themselves. I've seen them physically and verbally hand people's asses to them. If anything, any goon who tries to hurt them will probably leave once they start cussing out their haircut."
Jason snorted. "I think they'll start with their life choices 'fore going for the looks."
"True." Dick looked at Jason with a small smile. "So, what's the plan?"
"First, figure out where they are. I called their work and they said they called off. Second, apologize endlessly until they accept. Then... then I'll tell them. And after, if they still wanna be around me, we'll go to the exhibit."
Dick clapped him on the shoulder. "Sounds like a plan. I can call them, say something about needing help finding something for my apartment."
"Alright, 007. Let me know what they say." Jason reached for the gloves again. "I have some cleaning up to do."
Dick nodded and started towards the door. Jason didn't trust easily. He said he'd learned his lesson with his mom in Ethiopia. It took Dick months, if not years, after his death to regain the sliver of trust he'd been given when Jason first came to the manor. He sees it when he interacts with Bruce and when Alfred calls him for holidays and family dinners. But there was never a moment of hesitation with you.
The two of you met on the streets when you protected Jason from being attacked by the older kids after he managed to steal some groceries from the supermarket. He disappeared and came back with a chocolate bar, which you shared in the corner of Gotham Library while you tucked into your respective groups. Since then, the two of you were inseparable. You knew everything about each other and it disturbed Bruce and Alfred the first time they met you. After Jason was adopted (you were offered the same deal, but refused), he'd swing by every minute he could, bringing you food, new clothes, small knickknacks for your hidey hole, whatever to make you more comfortable. Dick would say that in times of separation, your bond was stronger than ever. That's why he couldn't let Jason give you up. Both of you meant too much to each other.
"Jay?"
"Yeah?"
"If you trust them this much, I think it's time to tell them the truth."
And by the look on his brother's face, Dick knew he understood what he meant.
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Part 1 ✧ Part 2 of Harrington Charms Hellfire! ✧ Part 3 ✧ Part 4 ✧ now on AO3
It's not much consolation, not when he gets nightmares and sometimes Frank or Robin have to knock him out of an impending daze when he remembers the bites, the screaming, pain, the p a i n, god it hurt, it hurts so much, it -
Yeah, getting a house (like a real, not to mention fucking massive, house) from the government (the fucking government) isn't much consolation because he still freaks out but he could definitely get used to having so much more space to just - just exist in. And Wayne's got a bed now too! Ain't that something fucking grand, they got enough room for Eddie, Wayne AND visitors if they don't mind a couch. It's just - not complete consolation, but it's just a sweetness after a world of monsters, death and blood.
Plus, it's closer to Dustin and Gareth and - well, everyone basically. Even Steve, in that big ol' mansion he calls a house (not a home, Robin tells him, I don't think it's been a home for a while) that Eddie is on his way to right now. The streets of the refined (snobby), cultured (judgemental) and luxurious (that one's accurate) neighbourhood have emptied out since the whole averted-apocalypse-thing. Most rich folks don't wanna stick around after so many "gas leaks" and earth-shattering quakes apparently. Who knew.
It's a walk he enjoys, not too much effort on a good day, because it means he gets a little fresh air and daylight and that's pretty nice after spending a near-death experience thinking the last thing he'd taste was ashes and stale air and the world is a horror-infested black mirror wrapped in a fucking nightmare and Dustin oh Dustin -
But that's all fine because now he is breathing the fresh air and is walking in the daylight and he's on his way to the sun incarnate himself.
Ugh, the things love does to him.
Okay, still definitely not love but like, more than an infatuation. It's just - there's not a lot of good words in the English language okay, not enough to describe his heartbeat when Steve smiles at him or how those scars, peeking out from a stupid polo riding up, light something sad and soft in Eddie's chest, a crooning that begs to touch and soothe and not love, not love, nope.
God damn it.
Eddie sighs, shaking out the insistent thoughts (touch, soothe, love) as he approaches Steve's place and sees -
What the fuck, is that Jeff?
"Eddie!" He smiles, giving a small wave while he's standing outside his car? Parked outside Steve's place? And is that - that's the big-city brother standing with him? That's - not - that's weird, right?! "Hey man, what's up?"
"Uh, nothing much," Eddie comes to a stop and smiles back, glancing between the front door that's clearly fucking open and Jeff's brother, what was his name? "Hey..."
Big-City-Bro smiles a small thing and brings up his hand. Eddie shakes it gladly, who knew he'd feel such elation from being treated like a normal fucking person (not a killer, not a rebel, not a martyr). "Hi Eddie. I'm Trey."
Eddie's brain snaps its imaginary fingers because yes, Trey! Jeff and Trey, the Brothers Brave and the brothers that still won't tell Gareth which of them is older. Frank is adamant in his "they're fucking twins" bet.
"So," Eddie raises his eyebrows, because this is Steve's house right? Eddie didn't just enter (another) alternate reality where Jeff -
"Eds!" And that's when Steve comes barrelling out the door almost tripping on his way over before Jeff was able to catch him in time. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie, I completely forgot about our plans, fuck I'm so sorry dude."
Wow. Even panicking and flustered, Steve still manages to look stunning, god look at the crease of his worried little forehead.
"No worries, Stevie," Eddie grins, because look at him. God he's so fucking cute. Look at his sheepish little face, those scattered little moles, that hand still on his little forearm - wait. Eddie eyes the pair of them, Jeff and Steve, both looking back with apologetic half-grimaces. Big-City-Bro seems quietly amused over all. Terrific. "I am curious about this little get-together though."
"Well, Steve and I were on the phone last night -"
Hang on, what?
"- and Jeff thought he could come along since he's dropping me -"
Last night? As in, a late night call? As in, like, twirling fingers around phone cords and "no, you hang up" and a late night call, is that what they're saying?
"But I just called and then Wayne said you were already on your way over and now..."
Eddie blinks. The Brothers Brave are glancing at each other but Steve is just looking at him with big, soulful eyes and his head is tilted in just the right way that the brown of his hair turns gold in the afternoon sunshine.
Last night?!
"You guys talk at night?" Eddie manages to squeak out, the something ugly in his chest rearing its head to hiss at the - the implications of that, like - what the fuck?
Steve huffs a chuckle awkwardly, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Eddie tries not to zone in on the (totally unsexy of course) scar circling under his collar because last time he did that, Steve misunderstood and it was a whole thing. (A whole thing that ended up with Robin helping comfort Steve because Eddie couldn't properly articulate just how fucking badass that scar was, a symbol of survival, how it keeps reminding him of that time Steve tore a hellish winged demon with his bare hands and bared teeth and he was at least able to tell Steve he just thought the scar was cool).
"Uh, not like - not like that," Steve clears his throat. "Just sometimes...music, y'know?"
"Yeah!" Jeff nods earnestly and the something ugly softens because it's Jeff, who could ever be upset with Jeff? "Steve's got some great ideas and a good ear, Eddie, which is why I keep saying you should stick around our practice!"
Steve ducks his head, cheeks flushing a pretty, pretty pink, his smile something sweet and bashful and god fucking damn it. Eddie clears his throat and gives Steve an encouraging smile, making the sun incarnate glow ever brighter and the rays of light around him are wisps in comparison. Fucking hell.
"I really did forget, Eds," Steve says mournfully, his eyes practically begging Eddie for forgiveness from under his lashes. "I'm so sorry."
Eddie shrugs, because well. Yeah, Stevie's always had a bit of a problem with memory, it's why he writes everything on his fridge-calendar. Eddie gets it. "'S alright, dude, it happens. Are you guys heading out now?"
"Yeah but -" Steve cuts himself off and starts grinning excitedly, oh no. "You should come with us! There's space, right, Jeff?"
Jeff's earnest nod does a good job of hiding the clear trepidation that peeks through his expression, but technically, Eddie made plans to hang out with Steve first (last fucking week, take that "last night" Jeff) so this can't really count as intruding, right? Plus why would Jeff feel nervous about Eddie coming along to some music record store in the city? It's not like he's gonna be interrupting like - like a date or anything! This is just some plans they made (with Jeff's strong, silent type brother so it's fine) and now Eddie is invited. Steve looks super happy to have Eddie come along anyways so. Fuck yeah.
"I'm humbled by the offer to accompany you on your quest, my liege," Eddie gives a bow, laughing when Steve gently pulls him up and fusses over his scarring (how does he make wounds feel so sweet). "It would be an honor."
Trey gives a chuckle and clasps Eddie's shoulder before heading over to the passenger seat. Steve grins and opens the backseat door with a bow. What a flirt (Eddie has to hold in the giggle bubbling up his throat).
"So!" Eddie slaps his palms on his knees as Steve settles in the seat next to him, internally screaming because shit, this is very close quarters. "Whose music are we scoping out?"
The engine's already started but that moment of silence in the car? That's worth some kind of pin drop. Jeff's shoulders are tense, the way they are when he's about to investigate just about anything during a Hellfire session, but Trey and Steve both seem pretty...chill?
"Just gonna get some Dolly," Steve smiles and shatters something intrinsic in Eddie. "I kinda lost my only tape after the, uh, the earthquake." He laughs, like he hasn't crushed Eddie's perception of the Good Sir Steve with a single sentence.
"You -" Eddie clears his throat, pointedly ignoring his shaking leg and looking out the window. Think about the reconstructing houses, don't think about Steve liking Dolly Parton of all artists, fucking hell - "You a fan of country then, Steve-o?"
Steve eyes him warily in the window reflection but Eddie keeps looking at the lovely and slightly broken homes they're speeding by. Almost out of Hawkins with a country fan - "Yeah, I mean...I wasn't like a huge fan but after Jeff lended me a couple tracks -"
"Jeff did that, did he!" Eddie says brightly, staring at Jeff with bright, oh very bright eyes. He can practically smell the sweat (ew) pouring off him as he pointedly avoids Eddie's gaze in the mirror. So this is what he's been keeping from Corroded Coffin (aka their fucking metal band, Jeff) this whole time! And to think Gareth was betting on a secret third sibling this whole time (maybe they should cut back on the betting...at least when Dustin is around).
"Yeah!" Steve grins and oh fuck him no Eddie's lost all feelings for that beautiful glow of a smile because he likes fucking country music, goddamnit Steve - "Jeff's showed me tons of cool songs! Hey, how come you don't recommend me anything?"
Eddie sputters when Steve nudges him because um, ex-fucking-cuse you? "I recommend you songs all the time! Black Sabbath! Judas Priest! Overkill! Hell, I even told you KISS was a decent warm-up!"
"Hey, I tried KISS!" Steve's pout holds no power over Eddie, none, that's why he quickly looks away to stare right past Jeff's ear. "It's just...they're just all so, like, headbang-y. Jeff gave me songs I could, y'know, wash the dishes to."
"Ha," Trey's soft laugh snaps Eddie's attention because if there is another traitor in this car, Eddie will not hesitate to open this fucking door - "You put on Dolly Parton, Queen of Country, to wash the dishes of all things?"
And that hum, that damned sheepish chuckle, means that Steve's face is flushing and his eyes are avoidant and fuck. "It makes it more fun to do 'em, y'know, like I'm scrubbing and I'm begging Jolene to leave my man alone."
His. His man? As in, his man? Steve's man? Steve would have a man?
"Oh, I hear you," Trey laughs, fiddling with Jeff's fancy cassette player. "Me and Jeff used to belt out to Dolly all the time and if this is still in-"
Steve gasps as the opening notes to what Eddie assumes is a fucking Dolly Parton song. He wouldn't know because he has real taste and doesn't listen to -
"I'm begging of you, please don't take my man," Steve sings along to the music, his voice soft and crawling across Eddie's spine like a warm campfire in the cold desolation of a forest. "Jolene, Jolene -"
And then Trey is singing along too and his voice has more range but Steve's got the emotions. They're - it's like he's genuinely begging, crying out for a lover's loyalty, for a seductress to back away, to let him have this one man who means everything to him.
Fuck, Eddie's feelings are roaring real sweet and wild in chest as he stares at Steve's heartfelt performance, his focused brow, his wavering bottom lip -
"That was amazing!" Trey exclaims as the final Jolene peters out and he laughs along with Steve, with the breath-taking Steve Harrington. God, fuck. The something in his chest is crooning again and his fingers are itching to stretch into Steve's hair and - "You really can sing, Harrington!"
"Thanks," Steve nudges Eddie again and he doesn't even look away, doesn't try to hide his staring because god, fuck. "Not so bad for a country song, right, Eds?"
With the biggest sigh he's ever exhaled, Eddie nods and bangs his head against Jeff's headrest. He knows Jeff is laughing at him already. "Not bad at all, Stevie. Not bad at all."
I plan on uploading this to AO3 soon, although I'm still debating between posting the rest of the chapters exclusively on there or cross-posting the whole thing on both sites because I have behind-the-scenes things i like to put in the notes, so if anyone has any preferences, let me know! i'll probably do both but add some little author's thoughts to the AO3, maybe some Steve POV on there too
if anyone else had wanted to be tagged but wasn't, my apologies
tag list: @ramyayaya @alienace @5pac3g1r7 @emly03 @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @maya-custodios-dionach
#sailor✧writes#steddie#writing#ficlet#jeff stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#au content#sailing✧harrington charms hellfire
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You want old men thoughts?? Hmm.... Right now I can't think of much, but I'll give you the little things I got XD
- Imagine in the Norman and Inkubus imagine you made, it's actually Norman that gets you first. You two have an established relationship before Inkubus came along, and started trying to seduce you. You insist to Norman that this new guy is 'just a friend', but even blind he can see that this guy has no good intentions towards his little wife.
- Imagine that you were the one victim of the Fireflies that managed to escape, and now Otis is obsessed with 'finishing what he started' with you. At first, it was with the intention to kill, but he just can't stop thinking about you lately (I'm not sure how in character this is, but I hope you still enjoy it XD)
- Ok this isn't sexual, but imagine you and Jim share a bed together, and in the middle of the night, you at first feel your husband shaking. You look over your shoulder to see his still sleeping face, and it looks scared. Pained. And you hear him muttering... You know what he's dreaming about. It's the same dream he's had ever since that God forsaken poaching trip he went on that almost killed him.
It's not much, but I hope you enjoy these imagines! ^^
OLD MEN-
Norman Nordstrom x Reader x Inkubus-
I loveee this prompt XDD Its like:
Y/N: *Introducing their husband and their nice new friend 'Klaus'* And like I said Norm, we're just goin' to the shops for a bit.
Norman, getting bad vibes off of this... 'Klaus': I don't want you goin anywhere with him.
Y/N: ... :D *w h a t... *
Y/N: *Eyeroll* Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^
Inkubus, who has been quiet up until that moment.: ... excuse me I'm what-
OR
Y/N, explaining to Norman who's at the door (You're lovely new friend obviously XD ) and that you two are just going out shopping: Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^ He doesn't have any weird intentions, don't be possessive.
Norman: Hmm... I gues-
Inkubus: *'Absentmindedly' tapping his foot on the porch outside- you cant hear it but Norman with his exceptional senses sure can. And why is it significant?... its Morse code for 'OH YES. I DO.' *
Otis B Driftwood x Reader-
Its totally in character!! I can absolutely see Otis being pissed and obsessing until, like, Baby mentions that she swears he has a crush~~ And he obviously curses at her and the fight because no way in hell does he have a fucken crush, but then when Baby skips off- he has an epiphany~ Like hm... (: Maybe I do have a thing on the slippery little fuck-cunt... Oh, heh heh, even better.
CUZ HE KNOWS, he KNOWS, being in a relationship with him is the worse sentence he could have ever dreamt up even on the purest of LSD.
Warnings; Capture, restraints, (Light) non-con touching/sexual assault and heavy allusions to rape. Just because I wrote this under your ask, does not mean you have to read it if you are uncomfortable. Technically all this can be sub-categorised under Otis' name, but I want to be clear XD My head goes to a darkkk place when I write Otis, okay? I'm sorry-
The old fucker's huge hand was tight over your mouth and nose as he leant in and grinned with dirty teeth at you. "... congrats, for what its worth. Its never taken me this long to find someone. Heheh, you're a good runner, gingerbread. Too bad you're not so good at hiding."
In responce you struggle once again against the restraints keeping you down on your knees; bare skin digging into the gravel parking lot beneath you. The tag ties around your wrists keep your arms stuck painfully behind your back as well as your ankles rubbing raw against each other.
"... lemme explain to you why you don't wanna fight me, alright?... " His hand squeezes you jaw, and you just wonder why he seems in such good spirits. The last time you saw him you were in the bed of a truck racing away from his crazy ass Texas chainsaw-style and he looked about ready to rip your throat out with his gross teeth. What changed? Why is he smiling, now? "... you see, uh... oh shit, I'm a little nervous!" there is not a single sign of nervousness in his eyes; Just a cruel amusement. "Okay, here we go- I like you." Immediately you try to struggle again but his other hand clamps around your arm and holds you still- and close. "Yeah. And well I usually don't take so well to, um... you know, little fucken bitches like you gettin' away... ehhhhh, I'm mellowing out in my old age, I guess. So! Here's the deal,
"I'll play nice. You know, I wont uh... hurt you, I guess. I promise, okay? Scouts honour, or whatever. But you... you gotta play nice too, k? You gotta... " Otis eyes flicker, moving purposefully from where they had been steadfast to yours for the past few minutes... down your body. The hand on your arm moves and ever so gently his knuckles graze against your chest. You jaw would drop if it wasn't restrained. You would shiver. You would hit him. With another creepy chuckle, Otis gives a grimy smirk to you. "You gotta be realll nice, to old Otis. Yeah?
"That's the only way yer gettin' outta this alive, sweet thing. Take it or leave it; its up to you. See? I'm nice!"
Jim Bickerman x Reader-
That's okay, it doesn't need to be sexual! We also love old men XD
We have had the comedy, we have had the horror... now we get the angst and the fluff XD Here we go-
You're slowly roused from sleep by the cold, Jim assumedly hogging the blanket (Though that's not a thing he does, he usually doesn't even care about the blanket) so you sit up turn your head to look down at him; And immediately you wince.
"Oh, no... "
With his good hand clamped over his own mouth and his skin looking pale, its obvious exactly what he's dreaming about. His eyebrows are furrowed in his sleep and the lines in his forehead and the bridge of his nose are deep, his breathing is haggard and you know it has to be a nightmare.
This has happened before, ever since that trip back to Blackwater you wish he hadn't taken, and every time seems even worse then the one before. And they change him; The bags under his eyes haven't ever been deeper then they are these days; at least not as long as you've known him.
The worst part is knowing you cant wake him up, you can just be useless there beside him wondering what he's seeing. What part of him the teeth are ripping apart this time. Whether he's getting out alive, this time.
Taking a deep breath yourself, you carefully peel his fingers off his mouth so he can breath properly, holding it tight in your own hand instead. And then you just sit there, in the dark (The only light in the room being what the moon creates, coming in through the window Jim broke a couple days ago.), squeezing his hand and hoping he'll wake up soon. That he'll wake up.
When finally he lurches up beside you, breathing heavily as he wakes up and crushing your fingers so hard his knuckles go white and so do yours, you just let him calm down on his own. Just hold his hand and try to give him space while not giving him space at all; wanting him to have room, but not wanting him to feel alone. You're right here and you're not going anywhere. You feel absolutely useless, but... you're not going anywhere.
A few heavy moments pass where he just breaths, and you just watch him with worry-filled eyes, until the pulse you can feel in his wrist returns to close-to-normal, and you give his hand one final, hard squeeze before letting it go. Instead you silently enfold enfold him in your arms, him immediately dissolving into you; wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your shoulder, slowly taking some more relaxed breaths.
"Heh... not a fan of those nightmares peanut but I gotta say I like the service I get afterwards."
"... are you okay?... "
"I'm fine." He always says he's fine, but fine would mean no more nightmares. Jim says that he's fine when he has shrapnel in his knuckles, Jim said he was fine the other day after he fell off the roof- you do not trust his fine, at all. Crazy bastard that he is; His 'fine' is completely without basis in reality.
"... you're fine?" You ask, an obviously-dubious look on your face as you lean back and tilt your head at him.
Jim smirks, something you can just see in the dim-lit room. "With my flask and possibly a little under-the-covers action sweetheart I could be better then fine." The smirk transforms into a whole grin and you cant help but roll your eyes; Grinning yourself a little, despite yourself.
He's nuts, but you kinda love him for it. "How about water, and some ice cream?"
Eyes hardening, Jim gives you a 'you cant fix my liver' kind of look. You're very familiar with it; It makes you want to laugh. "How about homebrew and ice cream?- and, also, where the hell are we gettin' this ice cream from missy?? I didn't think we had any more. Either you're makin' empty promises to an old cripple with ptsd or you've been holdin' out on me."
-oh damn. Quickly you let go of him and hop outta bed. "... uh... well no we dont have ice cream... not that you know of, anyway." Avoiding eye contact, you busy yourself collecting the half-empty cups of water off of both of your night stands. "So you- uh- wanted moonshine?? Great, sounds fantastic, lets go- "
He's not to be deterred, an amused glint in his eye as he watches you. "Where are you keeping this ice cream, dumpling? I know theirs none in our freezer."
"Uhhhm... "
"Hmm?"
"... fine I have a secret mini freezer in the back. You kept stealing my Ben & Jerries, I had no other choice! Now, do you want some or not? Because if not, I'll just go eat it myself!" With that, you grab a discarded flannel off the floor for the chill and rush out of the bedroom- but its not long before you hear the sound of his prosthetic leg hit the ground.
... Its not long later after that when Jim has you backed up against the cold brick wall just outside the back door; Leant in close and with one hand and one hook on your waist. As well as a devils look in his eye that makes you grin under its scrutiny.
"I believe we made a vow, sweetheart, somethin' like what's mine is yours??... "
#I LOVE ALL THESE PROMPTS/IMAGINES THANK YOU SO MUCH!#these were so fun too XD#i hope you like them!! ^^#Norman Nordstrom x Reader x Inkubus#Inkubus x Reader x Norman Nordstrom#Norman Nordstrom x Reader#Inkubus x Reader#Otis B Driftwood x Reader#Jim Bickerman x Reader#Drabble#Excerpt#Incorrct Quote#IQs#Incorrect Quotes
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Robin and steve accidentally join the mafia
I couldnt stop thinking about this post by @qprstobin so wrote a lil bit based on an idea in there
It's been about two years since vecna's defeat, and after two years of some of Robin and Steves most awful jobs in chicago. One month into this one and they've finally found peace.
"Okay can we be real here?" Rob waves a slice of pizza as they sit in the store room of the warehouse-like antique shop they work at. "The boss is lovely, I mean seriously! But isn't it weird that we've met his entire family?"
Steve squints at Robin from the couch. "I don't think so? Maybe this is what, like… Italians are supposed to be like."
"Aren't you Italian?"
"Yeah but my family was fucked up. Everyone's so close with Boss it's like, a clan almost." He settles his hands on top of his chest. To be frank it's the best couch he's ever been on.
"I think it's about time we start accepting the fact that they might be like. Mafia." Steve looks at her to continue. But she's too busy eating the last of her pizza, avoiding the crust.
She finishes and hands the crust to steve.
"I mean, the store is practically empty! Barely anyone shops here!" Okay that's true, it's almost like family video but instead of stocking shelves for new movies, their boss Mr. De Luka or one of his 'cousins' will drop off something so they can slap a price tag on it and find a good place to put it.
"Mmm but why would we care? We're not doing anything wrong! Plus are you gonna look Mrs. De Luka in the eyes and say 'oh sorry ma'am' which you know she hates! And go 'we won't come to dinner tonight on account of maybe you being the Italian mob!"
Robin cringes hard. Steve huffs in victory. Mrs. De Luka was a tall and beautiful woman with angular features, a roman nose, and hair the exact same color as Steve's. She was a force to be reckoned with. She may bake some of the best cream cake but she's also steadfast and can settle a table of eight full grown men with just a slap of her hand against it.
"Ugh. That's not fair, saying no to her is impossible, she's like… so incredibly hot."
Steve scrunched up his nose. "Ew robin dont say that she's like a parental figure."
"She's more like a friend's mom!"
"Yeah! My mom!"
Robin points an accusing finger "Ahah! So you admit it. She's practically your mother!"
Steve chokes on the last bite of his pizza crust, he sits up and hammers on his chest. "Jesus Christ, no robin she's not my mother!" He coughs out
Robin throws her hands up "I didn't say that. I said practically! Hell, Angelo calls you cousin!" Steve narrows his eyes… Angelo Ricci is their boss's cousin, actual, biological cousin. Because as Steve and Robin have learned, some of the cousins or aunts or uncles are just unrelated people they call family.
"Should you be calling him by his first name? He's old enough to be your dad."
Robin actually stops and sits back in her chair. "If he was my dad that would be weird." Steve nods.
"Because of Amara?"
"Yes."
Amara Ricci… Steve can still remember the first time they met.
[-]
It had to be at least a week after they were hired. Mr. De Luka thanked them both for being great employees and asked them if they would have dinner with his family. Mr. De Luka wasn't like Keith, and neither was his store. It seemed genuinely family owned, and Mr. De Luka himself was much kinder, and seemed to actually care. Which was novel considering their last boss told one of them if one of them got killed during a stick up, to not sue him because 'he warned us'."
They both took a cab to the house, which wasn't really a house but a manor. It was huge, and Steve thought he had seen huge. Turns out Midwest standards are nothing on city ones. Robin and Steve knocked on the door, that's when they met Mrs De Luka. She was harsh but loving, and most importantly. Insisted on being called Helena, or Ma.
There were so many people in the house, they only set about trying to find their boss and at least get to know his immediate family. Sure enough, halfway into the conversation with the man. Another man walked up to him and clapped him on the back. This man called their boss 'Carlo' and introduced himself, Angelo, his wife Luna, and finally their kids.
Behind them was a girl just about their age maybe a few years older. She was short and had Angelos curly black hair, Luna's tanned skin, and an arched nose that clearly came from Mr. De Luka. Robin lost her breath, and stumbled. She stumbled so hard her shoulder bashed against Steve and he got to witness his best friend make possibly the most hurried introduction ever. Luckily the girl, Amara, just laughed.
Next to him was her brother Dante, who was notably younger. When Steve looked at him he felt a pang in his chest. If he squinted his eyes and tilted his head to the left he almost looked like Dustin. And just about the right age too.
Finally they all sat down for dinner. Robin and Steve sit shoulder to shoulder. Robin across from Amara and him across from Angelo. An older woman sat at the end of the table. Helena's mother, Mrs Ricci, and to her left her husband Mr. Ricci. To say Steve was shocked was.. an understatement, in any dinner parties his family had him attend, there was always a man at the head of the table. Steve likes to think that that's when he started to feel a bit more comfortable.
The dinner went on incredibly long, eating was interrupted by conversations, bickering, and drinking. But it was amazing. By the end of the night, when Mr. De Luka and Angelo walked them out; they were both smiling. exhausted, maybe, but happy. Angelo slapped his shoulder and said 'cousin, come by anytime.' Mr. De Luka had walked back inside at Helena's call so the other man leaned forward. 'you two make my little brother happy, I've not seen it in a while.'
#robin buckley#professional problem stevie#steve harrington#stranger things#mafia au#and not really#comedy#short ficlet#ficlet#fanfic#fanfiction#dustin henderson#mention#calling people unrelated to you cousin#which I stole from the bear#because im not even close to Italian#seriously im Asian what the fuck is with this is it even real?
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nostalgia - part 3
Kane(Annihilation) x afab!reader
summary: Kane begins to remember something. (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Fusion + soulmates)
word count: 900
warnings: The end! (I initially wanted to do more with this story but my adhd says no :( so this is it)
you can also read it on ao3
part2 - masterlist
“It's really solid this time of year.”
This could be dangerous. “Oh, I don't know.”
“Come on.”
She is very persistent.
“Oh. So beautiful.”
“Isn't it?”
She starts to run towards to the center of the frozen river.
What is she doing? “Uh, don't go too far.”
“Whoo! Oww! Ow!”
Aaand she fell. “Are you okay?”
“Ouch! Ohh! Oh, my ass!”
“I think I should go back.”
“Oh come on. Come on! Come here.”
He walks towards her reluctantly.
“What if it breaks?”
“What if? Do you really care right now?”
No. No, he doesn’t.
“Here, let me show you this one thing.”
She lies down.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on.”
He sits on the ice.
“Think I heard a crack.”
“It's not gonna crack or break or...It's so thick.” She says as she pulls him down to lie down too.
“So, show me which constellations you know.”
Does he know any? Did he use to?
“Um... Oh.I don't... know any.”
“Show me which ones you know.”
“Okay.” He hesitates for a second “Oh. Here's Osidius.”
“Where?”
“Right there. See? Sort of a swoop and a cross. Osidius the Emphatic.” He just really made that up.
“You're full of shit.” She giggles. It’s a really nice sound.
“Nope. Osidius is right there. Swoop and cross.” He insists for… fun?
“Shut the fuck up!” She cracks up.
***
“Hey…” He gently wakes her up.
“Hey.”
“Sorry to wake you, but we're... here.”
“Ahh. Can I come over to your house...to sleep? I'm so tired.”
He freezes for a second. Is Lena at home? No, she’s at work. Does he care what would Lena think of this? The answer doesn’t bother him as much as it should for some reason…
“Okay. Um, yeah. Sure.”
“Let me get my toothbrush.” She jumps out of the car.
He waits.
A knock on the car’s window makes him jump.
“Yes?
“Can I help you?” The man says.
What? “What do you mean?”
“Can I help you with something?”
“No.”
“What are you doing here?”
What is he on about? “I'm not really sure what you're asking me.”
“Oh.” The man deflates “Thanks.” The man walks away.
That was weird, he thinks.
“Vámonos, señor.” She announces her presences suddenly.
She’s really lively. It makes him warm inside somewhere deep.
“I-I had a really nice time last night.” He says hesitantly.
“Nice?”
Oh, that word again!
“Okay, I had the best fucking night of my entire fucking life.” Not knowing if it’s true… but he believes it.
She grins “That's better.”
She look at some documents on her lap.
“This is weird. To all patients of Dr. Howard Mierzwiak. My name is Mary Svevo. "We've met, but you don't remember me. I worked for a company you hired to have part of your memory erased. I have since decided that this is a horrible... In order to correct this, I'm sending everyone's files back to them.”
She puts the tape that came with the file.
Her voice rings through the speakers.
“I'm here to erase Kane”.
What? ”What is this?”
“I don't know.” She’s unsure of herself for the first time he notes.
“He's boring. Is that enough reason to erase someone? I've been thinking lately how I was before and how I am now, and it's like he changed me. I feel like I'm always pissy now. I don't like myself when I'm with him. I don't like myself anymore. I can't stand to even look at him. That pathetic, wimpy, apologetic smile. That sort of wounded puppy shit he does, you know? “
“What is this? What are you doing?”
“I… I'm not doing anything!”
“Are you screwing with me?”
“No!”
“You are screwing with me.”
“Kane, I'm not!”
“You clearly are.”
“Look, let's just take a minute and...”
“Get out.”
“Kan-“
“Out!”
She gets of the car.
Is this anger he feels?
***
“Hi. The door was open…“
She’s here. At his house. How…ah.
“Look what I found.” He points to the tape player that is currently playing his interview with the doctor. “I'm sorry I yelled at you.”
“It's okay.”
They look each other for a while.
“Kane, I really like you. I hate that I said mean things about you.”
“Let me turn this off, okay?”
“Hey, it's... it's only fair.”
“You want a drink or something?”
“Do you have any whiskey?”
The things he says in that record are… cruel.
“Hey. Sorry. I thought there was more.”
They both try to ignore the words but…
“I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about all this.”
“I think i'm gonna... go. I'm a little confused. I don't really think I can be here.” She says.
He can’t argue.
“Um... bye.”
“Bye.“
She walks out the door.
A moment later he decides to follow her.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I don't know. Just wait. Just… wait.”
“What do you want, Kane?”
“I don't know. I want you to wait for... just a while.”
“Okay.”
“Really?”
“Look, I'm not a concept, Kane. I'm just a fucked-up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind. I'm not perfect. “
“…I can't see anything that I don't like about you.”
“But you will. You will. You know, you will think of things, and I'll get bored with you and feel trapped...because that's what happens with me.”
“Okay.” He wants this.
“Okay?”
“Okay.” He smiles.
“Okay.” She smiles too.
#onevolon fic#kane annihilation#annihilation kane#kane x reader#kane#oscar isaac characters#oscar isaac fic#oscar isaac fanfiction#oscar isaac hernandez estrada#oscar isaac
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helloooo bottom!john truther and enjoyer and apologist and whatnot here. can we please please please get john fucked on his hands and knees by another hunter in exchange for information/weapons/help on a hunt? (extra extra love if dean or sam is aware of it & has to keep their mouth shut but feels TERRIBLE)
Thanks for the prompt Angel, I loved this idea. I wrote this very quickly so I hope it's alright!
cw: extremely dubious consent, pretend sam's already 18, nsft
Most kids Sam's age are at parties tonight. Celebrating the start of spring break, trashing the houses of unsuspecting parents and throwing up on each other's shoes. You know, normal stuff.
Sam? Sam barely set foot out of the school gate before Dad was upon him, ushering him into his truck, spewing precious few, undetailed words about some urgent job down south, Dean already on the way, everything so urgent - and yeah, it's not like Sam has ever been invited to one of those parties. Honestly, nothing about them even sounds appealing. But just for once, for once, he'd give anything to be at one of them. To be somewhere normal, doing something normal. Anything that's not sitting in Dad's truck with hair metal thrumming low on the radio, waiting in some low-lit motel parking lot for Dad to do some shady sounding business with some shady sounding sounding hunter. Something about silver bullets. Something about best quality, last minute, no one else holding. And something - something off.
Dad's been gone a while. He said he'd be a few minutes, but that could be hours in Dadspeak, because he never says what he means - and it's just one of the many big and small resentments snowballing in Sam's head with all the others that made a home there during the six hour drive down here. Dad's inability to keep one radio station on for more than two minutes. Dad's little pop quizzes on various monsters, with no sign of him actually telling Sam what they're hunting right now, because that would make too much sense. Dad's too-fast driving, his chain smoking, and the car stinks, Sam's hair stinks, even with the windows right down - and Sam sits in the passengers' seat, he waits for Dad, he's always waiting around for Dad, and he's trying to read a book, trying to pass the time, but his eyes are strained in the low light and his mind just won't focus and he keeps getting distracted. He absently watches the neon signs for air conditioning and cable TV flicker, hears their low buzz. There's a sad, wilted palm tree outside the reception. The door is open, leaving a cutting rectangle of grainy light on the ground, and somewhere, someone is shouting, because in motels, someone is always somewhere, shouting.
And this feeling growing like mould in the bottom of Sam's gut, this weird feeling that's starting to supersede that constant feeling of unfair-unjust that lives in Sam like blood; this feeling that his common sense tells him is stupid. But his intuition disagrees, it's kicking up a fuss, and he hasn't been able to settle since Dad got out of the car.
Because maybe there was something off about Dad's energy that fizzled with those weary neon lights; and Dad still didn't say much, and Sam still can't read the man's mind, but you don't live for eighteen years close enough to rub up against each others last nerve without learning how to spot when something might be wrong. And theres always something wrong with Dad - he's sour faced and miserable, the cause of that changes day by day - but he'd been so insistent. You don't leave this car, Sammy, okay? This guy's a loose cannon. I don't want him to see you.
Sam had snorted, and Dad had looked at him with resigned contempt; but it had faded quickly, and there'd been that something Sam couldn't put his finger on as Dad had got out of the car. Something about the way he didn't look to check Sam was obeying, something stilted in his footsteps. Something that made Sam log the path he took across the parking lot, register the room number he knocked on. The door had opened, and Dad had gone inside, but it had closed so quickly that Sam hadn't been able to see the guy. The loose cannon.
Sam didn't bother asking to go with anyway, because Dad would have said no. He didn't feel much like arguing and insisting at the time, because he was pissed about the quizzing-smoking-Dadness of the entire miserable journey up here. But the longer Dad doesn't come out, that something-weird-not-right feeling gets bigger. Loose cannon could mean anything, absolutely anything. I don't want him to see you - that phrase is really gaining traction in Sam's head. Why not? And what the hell is taking so long?
The thing is, Sam knows some hunters aren't - well - right. He knows it from the things Dean tells him with dark glee, from the way Bobby has warned him to trust anyone in this life very, very cautiously. Dad has always told him not to trust anyone at all, but Dad is paranoid and thinks in extremes, and Sam never listens to him all that much.
As time rolls on, right now increasingly becomes no different.
There's a pistol in the glove compartment. He conceals it at the small of his back, and glances around like he's being watched as he gets out of the car.
He's worried. He's only a little worried, because Dad's only been gone a little longer than reasonable, and this is stupid anyway; and Sam's only a little worried because Sam's not letting himself be scared, Dad's fine, he's always fine, and Sam is not letting images of Dad stabbed or shot by one of these not-right, untrustworthy loose-cannon hunters flood his mind until he's sick with panic - and he moves quietly but quickly across the parking lot, takes the path Dad had followed, expecting him to emerge from that quick-open-shut door any moment and chew Sam out for disobeying a direct order. Sam would welcome it. He'd let Dad smoke and fidget as much as he wanted for the rest of the journey, he wouldn't bitch about it once, he'd sit shotgun and he'd be the best, most obedient kid in the world, whether Dad deserved that or not. So long as Dad was okay, so long as Sam knew he was safe.
He stops outside the door, dead of night quiet; he can't hear anything from inside. His heart beats out strange rhythms. He's sure this is the right room. The curtains are drawn over windows bordered by flecks of mould. They're ill fitting, don't quite come down all the way.
Sam swallows. There's a tremor in his hands. Maybe Dad and this guy went elsewhere. Maybe Dad's slumped over the bed with a knife in his back, on the floor with his brains all over the wall. Or maybe Sam has just got the wrong room. Only one way to be sure.
He draws a breath, cool-spring night air. Touches the concealed pistol for comfort as he crouches down to peer beneath the crack in the curtains. Braces himself for what he might see, all the awful things he's gone from avoiding truly considering to entirely convinced of.
His heart rate kicks up faster. Then stops. He can't see everything through the crack beneath the curtains. He can see more than enough.
He can see an unmade bed with holes in the frame. He can see Dad on that bed, on his hands and knees. He can see two hands on Dad's bare hips, his jeans hanging loose halfway down his thighs, open belt swinging in rhythm with - oh, god.
The curtain cuts the guy off at the waist. He's much the same - clothes only off as much as convenience requires - but Sam can see enough thigh, enough hip, to know that he's younger, possibly much closer to Sam's age than Dad's. Sam doesn't know why that makes it worse, but it does.
His hand quivers around the gun. He's frozen with shock, with this innate gut-deep disgust at seeing his father being, doing... and with anger too, at Dad, for giving Sam some sinister, hard to decipher warning to keep him away so he could apparently get his fucking rocks off. With a guy. A younger guy. And on the job as well - but then again, that doesn't really sound like Dad.
And maybe getting angry is easier than considering what's in front of him, because the longer Sam stands there, frozen, disgust, what-the-fuck - the more weird this gets.
Dad is - Dad's very still. Rigid, unnerving still. His back is slightly arched, and his hands are flat on the mattress, bunching the sheets between fingers that are bloodless at the knuckles. His face - god, Sam doesn't want to look at his face, not right now, not for this - but Dad is - well, clearly not enjoying himself. His eyes are open, focused on the wall ahead like he's zoned out. His nostrils are flaring faintly. His mouth is in a tight line, somewhere between a grimace and a fixed wince. He looks - irritated, is the closest Sam can come to describing it. Impatient.
His body moves like it's weightless with the force of the hunter's thrusts. His - and Sam doesn't mean to look, but it's kinda hard not to see - Dad's dick is soft. Hanging limp and sad between his legs.
Sam's guts twist, shooting bile to the back of his throat. Fuck, no kid wants to see that. Sam could've gone his whole life without ever knowing what that looked like, what any of this looked like. Without having to consider, with his bones locked together, what he might be seeing.
The guy looks not only younger, but smaller. There's no gun to Dad's head, no knife to his throat. If Dad didn't want to be there - exactly there - well. This guy would be the one bleeding out with a knife on his back. Then why does Dad look - well - like that?
Unless he's being threatened in some other way. Unless Sam is standing here gawping while Dad's in genuine danger, not knowing what the fuck to do. He feels paralyzed, and utterly confused.
Sam's eyes stray to the guy's nightstand. There's a bag there, a brown, straw-like bag with a pattern Sam recognizes. The bags silver bullets sometimes come in, which is all Sam knows, they sometimes come like that, because he doesn't think much about where they do come from. He'd forgotten all about the bullets.
Next to it, Dad's gun.
A disembodied hand comes down on the back of his father's neck, a fierce grip. Dad's brow knits. And for all Sam couldn't hear anything through the door, he's certain he can hear everything now. Grunts, pants. Loud, like they're exaggerated; and as that hand pushes Dad's face into the mattress, Sam definitely hears the slap to Dad's ass, even more clearly than he sees it. Dad flinches, and Sam feels very glad that he can't see his expression anymore.
His thighs are starting to shake from crouching, but he's shaking anyway. There's a cold layer of sweat breaking out on his skin. He watches those faceless hips stutter, then slam to a stop. Sam can see the disgust shudder through Dad's body. He feels it in his own.
For a moment, nothing happens. No one moves. Sam becomes aware that he's stopped breathing, maybe a while ago.
The guy, the loose cannon, the hunter Dad was nervous about, pulls - he pulls out of Dad. Dad doesn't move. Sam watches half a strange arm reach out, grab the bag on the nightstand. He watches as the guy throws it onto the mattress, watches it land an inch from Dad's face.
Dad flinches again. And then, with slow, creeping horror, Sam thinks he might understand.
That bile-rush returns, burns the back of his throat. There's a part of Sam that would like to believe Dad would never be that desperate, that he'd never - do this, let someone do this - just for fucking supplies. But then again, Dad is Dad. The job comes before everything, and it gets done. No matter the cost.
He thinks about how many times he's seen that specific bag among their possessions. Wonders if - if every time - if Dad has done this every single time...
Sam's knees feel rubbery. He watches the guy get off the bed, leaving Dad on the mattress alone.
Dad doesn't move for a while. Sam stays frozen with him, until finally, he uprights himself onto his knees, slow, heavy, baring his teeth like it hurts. And it must.
It's that thought that spurs Sam to get out of there. His quiet-fast walk back to the truck is unsteady, and his head pulsates in rhythm with his stomach, and it's all he can do not to throw up. His thoughts feel jumbled, his head all over the place. But Sam can at least feel pretty strongly that if he ever finds out who this guy is, he'll kill him. Slowly. Excruciating.
It's rage he can't do much about. He can't exactly express it to Dad, humiliate him like that, because if getting fucked for goddamn bullets isn't bad enough, the thought that his son saw the entire thing, stayed to watch what the hell is wrong with Sam he feels dirty and sick, will no doubt kill him. So Sam cans that rage inside of him, saves it for another day. It'll come out the next time a jock thinks he's an easy target, or during a fight about something unrelated. Although, right now, Sam kind of feels like he can never bring himself to fight with Dad ever again.
He waits for Dad in the passengers seat like he hadn't moved at all. His fingers tremble around the corners of his book. Those lights keep on hissing, hissing.
I don't want him to see you. What had that meant?
Sam thinks he might know.
He wishes he could wipe his memory. He wishes he wouldn't keep thinking about it. He wishes Dean was here.
Dad comes back a short while later. He goes to the trunk first - storing that bag, Sam assumes, the bag that guy had fucking thrown at him - before getting back into the car.
Sam closes his book. Dad reaches for his cigarette on the dashboard. His fingers are unsteady when he lights up. He doesn't say a word, which isn't unusual, because Dad never says much; he smells like Dean does sometimes when he stumbles in at 4am. A hint of something else, something like shame; but Sam's imagining that. Shame doesn't have a smell.
Sam watches him, doesn't quite meet his eyes. He feels out of his depth and very, very young. "Are you okay, Dad?"
He asks it casually, in too small a voice. Dad grunts, non-committal, equally casual. "Let's go find your brother."
Sam nods. It's the best idea he's ever heard. And maybe Dad throws him a glance, a confused glance, at the complete absence of Sam's attitude; but maybe he doesn't acknowledge it, because it's easier for them both if Dad acts like he doesn't suspect a thing.
But the job comes first, so Dad starts the car. That smell lingers.
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