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luci-in-trenchcoats · 23 hours

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The Pathology Murders

Summary: When the reader and the boys stumble across a gruesome scene, they get the feeling that the monster they're hunting is of the human variety...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, lots of mentions of gore/death, trauma, accident, fluff

A/N: This fic was inspired by this imagine (which makes an appearance in this one shot) and also by the horror movie Pathology!

________

“What the hell…” Dean and Sam looked around the abandoned house, pausing like you had when they got to the kitchen. Your boys weren’t wimps by any means. They’d seen some serious crap. Done some serious crap. But that kitchen?

It took Sam all of three seconds to step out of the room and upheave his greek salad from lunch.

Meanwhile Dean took it all in before his eyes landed on where you were trying to work the scene, fighting back another dry heave.

“You alright?” he asked. You knew he was concerned. You weren’t one to puke up your guts either. But the poor soul on the kitchen table, or rather what was left of him…twisted wasn’t even the right word for it.

“Not particularly,” you said, pointing at a glass jar that housed a pair of kidneys on the stove. “Not all the organs made it into jars. Pretty sure the liver is in the sink.”

Dean cautiously took a step inside, swallowing thickly. Unlike you or Sam, who had your own experiences with hell, Dean’s had been far more…interactive. Sam’s soul was battered around by Lucifer but it’d been more psychological than physical. You’d spent an unpleasant night with a hellhound in the same cage and while it hadn’t been fun, you’d been able to stay in a corner and out of harms way. Dean though…Dean had been sliced and diced and hacked and every other possible horror, imaginable or not. And then he’d performed the acts himself. You never blamed him for giving in, for breaking. You’d told him time and time again he was, and always would be, a good man.

Some days, more often lately it seemed the older he got, he seemed to believe you.

“Whoever did this performed an autopsy on this guy. While he was alive,” said Dean, leaning over the body to get a closer look. “Huh. Anybody see a heart around here?”

You surveyed the bloody room, finding more than a few peculiar shaped body parts but nothing resembling a heart. Sam finally made his way in, taking a deep inhale as he got used to the gore before him. “I got nothing over here.”

“Could be a werewolf,” said Dean, cocking his head as he straightened, brow furrowing. “Or a witch.”

You knew he wasn’t buying that though, neither of you were. You tore your eyes away from the search to watch Sam’s expression flare up with a strange look of familiarity. “Sammy?”

“I think a person did this,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“No shit Sherlock. Someone used a knife or-”

“No, jackass,” said Sam, shooting Dean a harsh look for a brief second. “I mean I think this was a human, like an actual human. They were just talking about a cold case like this on a podcast I listened to during my run last week.”

“You and your fucking serial killer obsession,” muttered Dean. Sam’s eye twitched, the tension rising in the room. “It’s fucking weird, Sammy.”

“We hunt monsters, dumbass. How is that any different?”

“That’s our job. You don’t see me watching murder documentaries like a certain someone in my free time.” Sam got closer to Dean, Dean taking one to match, both boy’s jaws clenching.

“Hey,” you said with a snap of your fingers, the pair reluctantly turning towards you. “Dean, plenty of people are interested in cold cases and as long as Sam isn’t a serial killer himself, his hobby is fine. Sam, Dean just gets concerned that you don’t take enough of a break from hunting but he can’t come out and say that. So hug and make up. You’re on the same side.”

They both grumbled and gave each other a half-assed embraced but it made you smile regardless.

“So what’d your murder podcast say?” asked Dean, walking around to the other side of the cut open body. Sam’s face soured. “That good, huh?”

“They called them the Pathology Murders. A string of five victims about ten years ago that went unsolved. The killer performed live autopsies like you said about this guy earlier. The only lead they ever had was that the killer must have medical training, like a doctor, based on what they did to the victims. Oh, and all the murders took place in the Seattle area.”

“Which downtown is only twenty minutes from here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Was the heart missing at the other scenes?”

“I’m not sure. They could have skimmed over that,” said Sam. Your gaze followed Dean’s, his green eyes laced with uncertainty. “I can do some research back at the motel. You guys could check in with Seattle PD, see if the case files have anything useful.”

“We should double check that it’s not our kind of monster and if it really is a person-”

“We’re not working this case,” said Dean. Your eyebrows shot up, Sam’s face already frowning. “We do not investigate serial killers. Save it for the police.”

“Uh, what the hell is going on? You would never let a killer, monster or human, stay on the loose,” said Sam.

Dean’s gaze shot to you and quickly away, his eyes turning sharp as they zeroed in on Sam. You scoffed, Sam cocking his head in question.

“It’s because my mom was murdered. By a serial killer. Isn’t it, Dean?” Dean’s lips pressed into a thin hard line and you shook your head. “They caught her killer which you know. What does that have anything to do with-”

“You caught the killer, you did that,” said Dean, Sam completely lost. He knew your mom had been killed but not the gory details like Dean.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing then?” he asked. “Y/N has experience with this sort of thing then.”

“Why don’t you explain to Sammy just exactly what you did to ‘catch’ her killer then, sweetheart. Go on. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” You glared at Dean, feeling an unpleasant prickling in your eyes. Dean didn’t back down as you teared up though, instead focusing on Sam. “She let herself be bait. She let herself get caught by the son of a bitch. She almost died because she doesn’t see when she’s going too far with serial killers. The same thing happened on that Tulsa case five years ago.”

You could sense Sam had shifted very quickly to being on Dean’s side of this argument. You’d been young and reckless with your mom’s killer, barely a day over eighteen. That was years and years ago. You’d learned since then to use more sense. Tulsa…well your plan as being bait would have worked if your former hunting partner hadn’t been more focused on getting some ass that night than watching your back.

“Yeah, that’s how we met, Sam. Not working a case. No, Y/N was fucked and if I hadn’t been driving back from Jody’s that night and saw the fucking asshole grab her, she’d be dead. Wouldn’t you?” Dean snarled. You narrowed your misty eyes at him, Dean lifting his chin. “We will make sure this isn’t our kind of deal and if it is in fact a run of the mill serial killer, we are getting the fuck out of here, understand me?”

“I fucked up once. Once,” you breathed out. You swallowed thickly, wiping off your face with your jacket sleeve. “Just how many times have you been kidnapped Dean in the five years that I’ve known you? I’ve been taken once. You? How many times have I cut you loose? Taken out the monster with a knife to your throat? A gun to your head? How many times have you gotten lost in a case? Gone on a rampage? I never realized we were keeping score.”

Dean’s gaze fell to the floor, his hand running over his jaw, searching for the right words.

“Sam, go back to the motel and research. Dean and I’ll do the fed schitk and get the files we can. Whoever’s behind this, I’m going after them. You two can do whatever the hell you want,” you said, storming out of the room and out of the house.

“You look pretty,” said Dean softly a few hours later as you exited the motel bathroom in your fed suit, a light blue button down blouse with your charcoal gray suit jacket and pants. You ignored him as you dug through your duffel for your pointed black booties. Professional but also you knew for a fact you could run and fight in them. You growled in frustration when you couldn’t find them though, hearing Dean clear his throat behind your back. You glanced over your shoulder, following Dean’s gaze to where he’d set them down by the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you grumbled, slipping them on and pulling up the side zipper. Dean was sporting his navy suit today, the one he looked extra hot in. You ignored that fact as you tucked your gun into the back of your pants, fixing your suit jacket over it.

“Y/N.” You sighed, giving him a look that you really didn’t want to do this right now. He took a long breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Sam quietly slinked out of the room into his adjoining one. Most of the time the three of you shared but when you could swing it, Sam got his own next door to give you and Dean some privacy.

Privacy you didn’t necessarily want at this moment.

“You do good cop, I’ll be the hardass if it comes to it,” you said, shoving your phone in your pocket. You tried to walk past him for the door but he caught your hand, stopping you after a few feet. “Dean.”

“I do not, and have never, thought you were weak. But serial killers are a blindspot for you. Sam and I both have them. This is yours.” He lowered his head, like he was fighting the words that were coming out.

To your surprise, he dropped your hand and stood.

“Be careful on this one, sweetheart.” He walked past you to the motel door, cracking it open and pausing. “We should get going.”

“You sure I’m not going to lose it? Get too carried away and get myself captured?” you said, unable to stop from poking back after his earlier insinuations. Dean’s shoulders rose and fell, one hand going to the doorframe to grip it as you watched the back of his head lower.

“Y/N, don’t you know by now I’m an idiot that’d rather lose you because I’m a dick than find you in the hands of some monster like whoever did that to that poor guy? Don’t you know I know you’re stronger than me? Don’t you think I realize how hard it is to be with someone like me?”

“You don’t stop Sam from doing dangerous things,” you said. “You don’t bring up the past to him.”

“Yes I have,” he said quietly. “And convincing Sam to stay in a motel room where it’s safe to research has never been hard thankfully.”

“You don’t treat me with the same respect though,” you said softly. “It hurts to know you never will think of me as being as capable as he is all because I’m your girlfriend.”

Dean shook his head, straightening his back. “You are more than capable, sweetheart. But sometimes…I just want to be a man that protects his girl. I don’t want to be scared of failing you for once…because if that monster got anywhere near you…”

You took quiet steps over to him, staring at his broad shoulders as they sagged.

“Eventually everyone I love dies or has something awful happen to them. Maybe I don’t say it the right way but fucking hell, all I want is for those things to not happen to you.” He spun around, green eyes full of worry. You nodded, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He squeezed them gently, the warmth of it pleasant.

“Our job is dangerous, Dean. We hunt the monsters, supernatural or not. I love you but you don’t get to keep me locked away.” You ran your thumb over his scuffed up skin, still healing form last week’s hunt. “That said…I promise not to get so angry if you promise to just say you’re scared for me. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, a flicker of a smile on his face. “I just have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Then we’ll be smart, okay?” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And don’t call yourself an idiot. I don’t like it.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on.”

Two Hours Later

“This guy’s a fucking psycho,” you said into your phone while Dean came outside with a bag of burgers and fries. “Apparently he sends the hearts to the victims families in a little box with a bow.”

“Sounds about right for a guy who cuts people open for fun,” said Sam on the other end. “I’m gonna pour through the records you just sent over.”

“Alright. Dean and I should be back in fifteen-”

“Why don’t you guys have a date night? I got this for a few hours.” You bit your bottom lip, Sam’s silence going on. “Come on, Y/N. You guys should talk about Dean’s protectiveness and your stubbornness.”

You wanted to argue that fact but sighed, closing your eyes.

“Any suggestions on how we find that line when our job is to hunt killers?” you asked.

“Maybe remember that he’s your boyfriend first, hunting partner second. Most boyfriends wouldn’t want their girlfriend near a serial killer either, no matter what their job.”

“Don’t have good points, Samuel,” you said as Dean took a seat next to you on Baby’s hood. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

You hung up and dove your hand into the bag of fries, smirking when Dean presented you with a chocolate milkshake. He grinned as you dipped the fry in it and tossed it back, giving him a big thumbs up.

“I love you,” you said, Dean smiling as he dug out his burger. “I always love you, even when we fight.”

He glanced at you, landing a gentle kiss on your lips in the next moment. He barely moved his lips, letting them linger instead. He moved back only an inch and nodded. “I was a dickhead earlier. All because I’m afraid of finding you with a serial killer standing over you with a giant ass knife again. I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say that shit in the moment.”

“Because you’re human,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And you’re so much better at talking to me than five years ago. The old you wouldn’t have even been able to say that to me.”

“I try,” he said, letting you kiss him, your own a tad more forceful than his had been.

“That’s all I ask for,” you said, Dean’s phone going off at that exact moment. He sighed as he took it out, Sam’s name appearing. He tapped it onto speaker and took a bite of his burger. “What’s up Sammy?”

“Guys, I think I figured something out. All the victims were patients at Mercy West hospital back in the day and this latest guy? He was a patient there last week.” You and Dean shared a frown. “Yeah, I know. The cops investigated all of the hospital staff there back then but they never came up with anything. They thought maybe a doctor was behind it but he died in a car accident between the second and third vics.”

“It could have been him and he had a partner. Definitely is someone with access to records so they have to work there,” said Dean as you held up a finger. “What?”

“I could have sworn I’ve heard about this hospital in the news before. Something to do with a boat accident?” you asked. You heard Sam typing loudly before he hummed.

“Yup. They made national news about six months ago when seven of their medical students died in a boating accident. Explosion apparently when they got boozed up and had a bonfire on the boat. The bodies were so bad they couldn’t identify the remains,” said Sam. Dean took another bite of his burger and swallowed. “Already checking through the police files. Shit.”

“Shit what, Sam?” you asked, dunking a fry in your milkshake.

“Shit as in the boat accident wasn’t an accident at all. There was definitely an explosion but they found damage on the bodies indicating some injuries occurred before death. Like being carved up alive. They don’t want the public knowing the killer is still active in the area.”

“It’s gotta be someone linked to that hospital. Only question is why can’t the police figure out who?” asked Dean.

“Good question,” said Sam. “I’m going to keep digging, see if there’s a connection between the two we missed.”

“Thanks Sammy. We’ll be back in twenty to help,” said Dean, hanging up. He glanced at you, biting the inside of his cheek.

“This isn’t a monster,” you said quietly. “At least, it’s a human one.”

Dean polished off the rest of his meal quietly, the air still for a few beats.

“When you get too worried about me on hunts, you put yourself in danger,” you said, slowly sipping from the shake. His heated gaze was on you as you handed him the drink. “You have to trust that I’m strong enough to do this. Careful and capable. We both need to work on that.”

“Alright. But do me a favor? Stick close to me or Sammy on this one. You’re just…” You waited, let him find his words. He took the drink and finished it off, shoving the trash in the bag. “You just got over that shoulder injury. Your punches don’t hit as hard as normal right now. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just-”

“Okay,” you said, finding his hand, slipping yours inside. “Now let’s figure out who this bastard is.”

He hummed, letting go of you for a brief moment so he could toss the garbage away. You slid inside the passenger seat, Dean back and behind the wheel after the blink of an eye. Approximately ten seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot and on the road, headed down main street and for the motel.

“So I was thinking this guy does autopsies on victims right?” said Dean, turning the radio down low on a soft rock station. You glanced out the window on the dark night, a rumble of thunder overhead. “But the cops can’t find him. Well, isn’t there someone that sometimes works at hospitals and for the police that would be able to fuck with a body after the fact and hide traces of their involvement?”

“A pathologist. I was thinking that too but wouldn’t that have been their first look? I mean they literally call them the Pathology Murders,” you said, waiting for the the light to turn green. “It could be someone that knows someone at the department covering for them. Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe. I get the gist this guy works alone though. I only clocked one set of boots at the scene this morning,” he said, the bright green light illuminating the dark interior.

“Same. It’s absolutely someone associated with that damn hospital-” you said, Dean’s arm shooting in front of you in your peripheral. A millisecond later, something slammed into the right side of Baby, your side. Your lap belt tugged on you hard as your body lolled to the side, weightless for a moment before gravity reared it’s ugly head and slammed you down. Your head smacked something hard and it all went dark.

You could hear Dean asking a paramedic a million questions, not a single one concerned about himself. You opened your eyes to find yourself in the back of an ambulance, Dean lying on a stretcher beside you. He could tell you were awake and struggled to reach over to you but couldn’t. Instead he thrashed his head back against his pillow in defeat, straining against the straps that held him down.

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” said the paramedic as you blinked slowly at Dean. You knew something was wrong with you, with both of you, but you weren’t quite sure what that was yet. You struggled when you saw Dean upset. You wanted him to feel better. “You need to relax, she’s seeing you panic and that’s making her do the same.”

Dean stopped as he took in how your heart rate had skyrocketed, how scared you looked. He sighed and forced himself to stay calm. You saw him relax and heard him say it was okay. Neither of you enjoyed the feeling of being tied down, especially when the both of you were in plain view of one another and couldn’t reach each other. You tried to speak but couldn’t as you felt how raw your throat was.

“We’ll be at Mercy West in just a few minutes,” said the paramedic to Dean as you half-listened.

“No, take us somewhere else!” yelled Dean suddenly, fighting again. The paramedic sighed as you both started struggling once more. You didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on but if Dean didn’t want to go there, it wasn’t safe.

“I’m going to give each of you a sedative and by the time you wake up, you’ll be in your hospital beds feeling a lot better,” he said gently.

“No, don’t you touch her,” said Dean as you started to get very sleepy. The last thing you saw was Dean shutting his eyes as you finally remembered what had happened.

If Sam didn’t get to you soon, you were screwed.

Your eyes wearily opened under bright lights that made your head hurt. You winced and turned away from it, limbs heavy and still. Dean’s voice echoed somewhere, to your left maybe? You forced your eyes open again, Dean strapped down to a metal table with metal drawers behind him, the look on his face like he was screaming at you. You blinked, the ringing in your eyes loud and obnoxious, droning him out.

“Get up, fucking get up!” Dean shouted so loud you shook your head, a splitting headache cracking over you. “Y/N get out of here!”

It took only a moment to discover that unlike Dean, you weren’t restrained in what was most likely the hospital morgue. Something was wrong though. A sedative? No. You were becoming more alert if anything but your arms were growing more tired, head becoming too heavy to lift.

“Something’s off,” you tried to say, the words caught in your throat, unable to be voiced. Your eyes flared wide, Dean’s drifting past you.

“Someone took a long time to wake up,” said a voice to your right. Suddenly a hand was under your head.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean snarled, your head set on a…stand? Something to keep it elevated and from rolling to the side. You tried to move but the message wasn’t getting to your body, your eyes glued on the handsome face with a just slightly off smile leaning over you.

“You were in a nasty accident, Agent Carlson. Unfortunately for you, your head trauma was too severe and you coded in the ER. Meanwhile Agent Manns in his grief unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. At least that’s what the autopsy report will say,” he said, inspecting what felt like a cut on your temple. “Such a shame. It won’t be my best work but you’re not the first law enforcement to cross me. Sadly no one will be able to discover your remains once you’re accidentally incinerated as John and Jane Doe but it’s good practice.”

“Let her go you fucking psycho,” growled Dean when the doctor moved out of view and returned with a pair of shears.

“Psycho? I’m Dr. Thomas, ER Trauma physician and part-time pathologist. I’ve saved far more lives than I’ve taken, Agent Manns,” he said, snipping through your blouse.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Dr. Thomas bagged your shirt in a plastic bag nearby, doing the same with your pants and boots once they’d been removed.

“Paralyzing agent. Hard to come by but it has it’s advantages. No messy straps or ropes in the way,” he said, lifting your arm as you watched helplessly, cold metal against your skin as he cut through your bra straps.

“I swear to god I’m going to rip your spine out of your fucking face. If you touch her-”

“Not my style,” said Dr. Thomas, pulling away the fabric, sending a chill down your back. He gave you his focus again, a smirk on his face as he put two fingers to your neck. “Your heart is hammering away, isn’t it? Biology is fascinating that way. It’s so strange how an emotion such as fear can cause physical reactions in our bodies.”

“Get the fuck away from her!” shouted Dean. Dr. Thomas’ smile towards you dropped when he looked at Dean. He sighed and set the shears down, walking out of view.

“You’re really starting to irritate me,” he said, the distinct sound of tape being ripped from a roll filling the room and then Dean’s cries became muffled, only quiet thumping as he struggled coming from him now. Dr. Thomas appeared again wearing another smile. “Sorry about that. It’s always the men that get all squirmy. The women always live longer. Now, one could argue that’s because women have on average more blood in their bodies than men but I’ve gotten a fairly large sample size over the past decade to believe they’re psychologically stronger and therefore last longer.”

You tried hard to move your hand when he held up a scalpel near your face but nothing worked.

Fuck if you could move anything you’d be shaking harder than a tree in a damn hurricane. Dean struggling right beside you with a front row seat was not helping.

“Now I like to explain all of my procedures to my patients beforehand. While you are paralyzed to a degree, you will still feel things. That’s perfectly normal.” You were wide eyed, Dr. Thomas chuckling. “The procedure typically takes me around thirty minutes. However, you’ll die from the blood loss or shock after roughly seven so don’t worry about that aspect. Considering you were in an accident less than an hour ago, I suspect it’s more like four or five for you which is unfortunate for me but it is what it is. Perhaps Agent Manns will give me more time.”

He lowered the scalpel to your shoulder and dug in hard to the skin, dragging it inward towards your chest. Your scream was caught in your throat as he did it on the other side to match.

Dean was shouting and thrashing on the table beside you but you couldn’t even turn your head to look. Dr. Thomas started talking about incisions and procedures and then you felt something completely unnatural against your arm, another shout trapped in your lungs. Forget the brave face. You would have been full on wailing if you were capable of it.

Crack. Snap. Shudder. Rip. It was around the time that Dr. Thomas held up something dark red and sticky looking that your body decided passing out was the best course of action. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing that for some reason and you were stuck on the edge of consciousness, terrified and wishing something would come along and smash your head in to end this.

A loud bang shot out and something heavy smacked your leg, something else skirting against your side.

“Dear god,” whispered Sam. Your eyes were locked open as you heard Sam rush over, staring down at you for only a split second before he moved to Dean.

That was not good. You were far more injured that Dean, somewhere on the verge of death if you figured. Sam would have stopped to help you first.

Unless you were beyond saving.

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, grabbing one of your blood covered hands in both of his. Fuck he was crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so totally fucked. He looked over to Sam, Sam staring back with an open mouth. They couldn’t fix this. Shit, shit. You were going to die cut open like a Thanksgiving turkey. “W-What about Cas?”

“Dean,” said Sam, an air of resignation in his voice. “He’s in Kansas.”

“Jack then.”

“He’s with Cas. He doesn’t know how to-”

“A spell, a cure, something! Take her upstairs to a fucking doctor!” shouted Dean.

“De. Half of her organs are…” said Sam as you got light headed, Dean’s hand running over your head. Dean found your face, his chin wobbling. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Then we sit with our girl,” said Dean softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. “And you fall asleep, sweetheart and when you wake up again, you’ll feel all better. I’ll come find you someday. Okay? Just close your eyes and try to sleep for me.”

Dean lowered his head, kissing your forehead as he fought back the tears that wanted to spill over. Sam took your other hand, squeezing it gently as you tried to do what he asked.

“Bloody hell, of course a Winchester took out a nutter like that. I’d have thunk he deserved more than a bullet,” said a familiar voice.

“Rowena?” both boys echoed. She didn’t respond though, Sam’s hand dropping yours as a flash of red hair moved in front of you. You stared up at her, her hands cradling your cheeks.

“Dean, let go.” He did and about two seconds later you were shot straight upright, body in one piece, full of feeling and horror as you wrapped your arms over your chest, looking all around.

“What the hell was that?” asked Sam while Dean shrugged out of his fed jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, buttoning you up before he picked you up and was cradling you in his arms.

Rowena faced him with a hand on her hip, your own gaze falling down to where a dead Dr. Thomas lay on the floor, blood oozing from the back of his open head.

“Do you boys still not see me as a friend?” she asked, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice. You were shaking in Dean’s arms, clutching to his shirt with your too long sleeves.

“You’re the queen of hell. Why would you stop a death?” asked Sam. She rolled her eyes and approached you, resting a hand on your arm.

“Because I’m the queen of hell and I do as I please, Samuel.” You wanted to say thank you but all you could manage was a few jumbled words as you buried yourself in Dean’s neck. “She’s in shock, quite bad. Best to take her home and let her rest.”

“Thank you Rowena,” said Dean, walking past her, stopping near the entrance to the room. “Next time you need something, just let us know and we’ll help.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of this mess. Oh and Y/N, dear?” You managed to lift your head, grateful to find Sam was right on Dean’s heels. “This lad is going to be spending a lot of time on the receiving end of what he gave out up here down in hell. I promise you that.”

You nodded, giving her a thumbs up. Dean kissed the top of your head, his hold on you tight.

“You’re going to be alright, sweetheart. Just give it some time.”

“How’s that feel?” asked Dean for what felt like the twentieth time back at the motel. You’d showered, took another another shower, took a bath, took another shower and currently were wrapped up in a mess of Dean’s pajamas on the bed with a big towel in your hair.

“Better,” you said, your voice back with you once you’d gotten out of the hospital morgue. Sam was off relaying what he’d found to the local police. Apparently Dr. Thomas had worked on a few cases for the county but his sister it turned out was a hot shot detective who’d been covering for him for years. It was how he’d found out about you and Dean investigating.

Honestly that woman would be better off going out like her brother. She’d covered up a lot of murders for her brother. It’d be a miracle if someone didn’t take her out before then. Not that you particularly would mind that.

You patted the bed beside you, Dean taking a seat and pulling you into his lap. He removed the damp towel and nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, strong arms wrapped all around your body.

“So we really nailed that whole careful thing, huh?” you said. Dean chuckled deeply, inhaling the scent of your damp hair, a pretty lilac and vanilla blend you knew he liked.

“How do you do that? Make me laugh when I don’t feel like ever laughing again,” he said, tightening his hold.

“Because I’m hilarious,” you said, closing your eyes, wrapping your hands around his forearms. “You might not understand this but what you said when I thought…you made me feel safe even when I was scared that was it. You were a guy protecting his girl tonight, even if it’s not the way you meant it.”

“Meant every word,” he whispered, breathing slowly.

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for not stopping it. There’s no way we saw that coming.”

“Okay,” he said, draping his legs over yours, leaning back against the headboard with you. “How’s that feel? Comfy?”

You smiled as you rolled your eyes at him, tucking in closer. “I got you, Winchester. I’ll be alright. A chocolate milkshake and order of fries wouldn’t hurt though.”

“You’re hungry? After all that?” he chuckled.

“Yup. Ask Sam to pick some up on his way back,” you said, tilting your head back, kissing under his jaw. “Our date got cut short after all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You couldn’t talk earlier,” he said, taking your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll have nightmares, I’m sure, and all the other crap we get. But right now in this moment, with you, I’m okay.” He smiled, holding your body against his.

“I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if you do get kidnapped by serial killers.” You whacked his leg, Dean’s laugh rumbling against your back.

“Love you too, ya dork.”

_________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn fanfic #dean spn #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot

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hi18364 · 2 days

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In the blink of an eye

People often use the saying "your life can change in the blink of an eye" a lot. Six weeks ago, you understood what the saying meant. One day, you were taking a silly DNA test for fun with your friends. The next thing you know, you find out your whole life is a lie when you get the DNA results back. It turns out the people who said they were your birth parents are not, in fact, your biological parents; they kidnapped you.

For six weeks, you've kept a huge secret. It's eating at you. Leah Williamson is your sister. For six weeks, you've been going to training, playing, eating, and talking with your biological sister, and she has no clue about your secret. How were you supposed to tell someone they're your sister when you were kidnapped at six months old? You can't even look at her. People have started to notice that you can't look at her and that you are avoiding her as much as possible.

You have been staying with Beth and Viv for about five weeks now. You couldn't go back to that house, not after what you found out. Beth and Viv don't know the real reason; they just think that your mum and dad went back to live in Spain. Your head is a mess, questioning who you are, why did they take you. Would your life have been different? Would you have gotten into football? All these "what ifs," you would never get the answers to any of them.

It hurts, knowing that you would never get the answers to why they took you and stuff like that. Hearing a knock at your door, you get up. Standing in front of you was the one person that you didn't want to see. “Hey, you ready to go? Beth and Viv are waiting in the living room.” Nodding your head, you walk past her and into the living room where you see a bunch of footballers walking over to where all the shoes are kept. You pick a random pair.

After you put them on, you walk over to where Beth and Viv are, giving a weak smile to Viv. She looks at you; it's clear you had been crying at some point. “You ok, kid?” Giving her another weak smile, you nod your head. Hearing Kim shout, “We will all meet at the restaurant, everyone drive safe,” as all the footballers pile out of the tiny apartment. You, Viv, Beth, Leah, and Jordan are the last to pile out. Walking to the car, Beth and Leah were whispering to each other about something.

Pulling out your phone, you take a picture of your outfit, posting it on your Insta and Snap stories. You stop at the car, waiting for Viv to open it. When she does, you get in; Jordan was in the middle, and Leah was on the other side. The car ride was quiet for the most part. Getting out of the car, you walk into the restaurant. Beth, Viv, Leah, and Jordan weren't that far behind. Alessia and Ella come over; you know them from England.

You got your first call-up two months before the Euros, and I guess Sarina liked the way you play, as you got the call to join the team for the Euros. It's now November 1st; life has been crazy since you won. Walking to the table, you sit more away from your Arsenal teammates. The night went well; everyone was happy and talking to each other. It's now the next day; you had a game today, so you need to get there at 5 am because it's a 12:30 kick-off.

Getting up, you slip on a hoodie and joggers, trying to shake off the weight of your secret. As you head out the door, you walk to the kitchen where some of the Arsenal girls are; some stayed over last night. Beth passes you a coffee. "Hey," she says, her voice soft and it has a hint of tiredness in it. "Are you okay? You seemed a bit off last night." You force a smile, hoping to deflect her worry. "Yeah, just tired, I guess. Big day ahead."

Giving another forced smile, you walk over to the couch and flop down next to Jen. The news was on the TV; nothing interesting, so you just go on TikTok and watch some fan edits showing Jen. A few here and there were of to the training center; it's cold as it's like -4. As you arrive at the training center, each step you take is heavier than the last, burdened by the weight of your secret. Your mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Jen's concerned gaze follows you, her eyes silently pleading for you to confide in her, but you just can't bring yourself to do it. Not yet. Inside the training center, the familiar sights and sounds offer little comfort. Your mind keeps drifting back to Leah. How do you face her knowing what you know? The guilt threatens to consume you whole. As the bus parks up, you catch Leah's eyes. For a moment, it feels like she can see right through you, like she knows the truth.

You quickly look away, unable to bear the weight of her gaze. She was just a teammate six weeks ago, and now she is your sister. Well, I guess she always has been, but you didn't know. Getting on the coach, you sit next to Katie, Catlin, Steph; you don't really talk to them. The game was a blur; yous won 2-0. After taking photos with fans, you walk down the tunnel where Leah, Beth, Katie, and Georgia Stanway are.

Leah walks over to you; as you try to walk away, she gently grabs your arm. “Hey, can we talk?” You just shake your head, and you try to pull your hand away. “What have I done to you to make you hate me?” You shake your head. “I don't hate you, Leah.” She still has your hand in her grasp. “You can't look at me; you don't talk to me, and you won't tell anyone what's going on.”

You do the only thing you can think to get her to let go of you. The connection of your hand connects to her face echoes through the tunnel. The girls come over and quickly separate you. Beth comes up to you and pulls you around the corner. “What's going on? Leah just wanted to know if she did something; why did you slap her?” Looking at Beth, the concern for you and a bit of anger for slapping Leah, you couldn't bear it any longer.

You let all the emotions out, letting a sob rip through you. Beth steps forward and gently pulls you into a hug so your head is resting on her shoulder. “She-I'm-” She tries to calm you down. “She's my sister.” Letting another sob rip through your body, you feel Beth tense under you. “What are you talking about?” Wiping your head around, you see Leah standing there.

#women’s football #women’s soccer #women’s super league #woso community #woso imagine #wsl #barclays wsl #georgia stanway #beth mead #viv miedema #vivianne miedema #leah williamson #katie mccabe #caitlin foord #steph catley #kim little #woso soccer #arsenal

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disregardcanon · 1 day

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this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

#anons #writing things #ao3 things #the case for commenting

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deadnametrading · 2 days

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I've been reading people's interpretations of this scene, and while I agree with the substance of the take that "Laios is quite isolated and his party often don't understand him", it's not the reading I get from this scene in either the manga or the anime.

So let's review the board, spoilers for episode 18 of the anime, obviously

Senshi's Laios: very cute, a reflection of his standards of masculinity. Possibly influenced by him being older, by Dwarven ageing, and the fact Laios is clean shaven. He projects similar notions on Chilchuck, and other biases onto Marcille. I feel this can mostly be chalked up to how brief his time with the party currently has been (1-2 weeks).

Chilchuck's Laios: Dangerous, unreasonable, unhinged, and coloured by his long time experience of Laios.

At this point in the story Chil's perception of Laios has changed rapidly due to both the reveal of his monster obsession (back in episode 1, previously suppressed) and the confrontation with Shuro, among other things. As seen in episode 13, he think's Laios is going to suicidally chase Falin to his death. He also thinks his monster obsession is a sign of a disturbed mind (not a suprise given his own experiences of the dungeon).

Marcille's Laios: Quite the opposite of Senshi, Laios' masculinity is exaggerated, which does reflect her Elf beauty standards (male and female Elves are often similarly feminine ).

Specifically for Marcille, she was told Laios looked a lot like Falin, and before meeting him, her opinion of him was really low (see the Falin makeup extras and her retelling the story of being alone after Laios left home, to Marcille).

Now, I've hated people in my lifetime, there's an inclination to be more critical of them than you would other people. Marcille didn't like the comparisons between the two siblings, and so fixated on their differences.

For review, here is there first meeting:

Marcille came for a fight, clearly her letters didn't tell Falin the whole story. She HATED Laios in this scene. Everything in the three years after was clawing back from this mess.

Look at Laios, not a button a stubble, and neither person got any short or taller in the intervening years. When she gets irate over people saying Falin and Laios look similar, it's because of that mental image broadcasted by the Shapeshifter. That's how she sees him in her mind, the man who took Falin away from her, who made Falin unhappy, and who others have the gall to compare to her dearest friend Falin.

Conclusion: Laios and Falin, their emotional and social alienation, and how they each influence others like Marcille and Kabru; these things are central to the story, and to Laios as a protagonist. The last thing I want it people thinking I'm dismissing that.

But at this point in the story, focusing on that narrative, it's proverbially putting the cart in front of the horse. Structurally, this encounter is a review of party stability moving forward. The previous battle with Chimera Falin put everyone on edge, made them uncertain of their future, and distrustful of Laios.

Laios came out of his fight with Shuro (Toshiro) appearing unobservant to people's appearances and feelings. Marcille and Chilchuck recognise Kabru and Laios didn't. They're suspicious of his abilities. Laios, in turn, knows he has the chance to win them back, knows he fucked up with Shuro (Toshiro) and ruined their friendship.

This encounter is about Laios' shortcomings, reflective of his neurodivergence, the doubts of his party, and how Laios uses his strengths to compensate, and even solve problems his party members can't. Ultimately, this chapter is saying, Laios is different, but he is not lesser, and in a battle against monsters he excels.

The others can point out differences in clothing and speech easily, but those were the tools the shape shifter easily used against them. Laios succeeds precisely because he's focusing on the things others don't pick up on.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi ep 18 #laios touden #long post

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intheholler · 2 days

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what do you think of all of the people being scared of appalachia? i don't know if this is recent or not, but currently i've been seeing a ton of shit online like "never go to the appalachian mountains, it's so dangerous", and i just don't understand it. my family's lived in appalachia for forever, and none of us have experienced anything paranormal or endangering to us. you're one of my favorite blogs on here and i'd just like to hear your thoughts on it

first off, it means a lot that i'm one of your favorite blogs and im really happy i can contribute something to your experience here :') thanks so much for being here <333

but ok so.

my thoughts on it are many. it's been bothering me a long time and i've been meaning to get it off my chest. this will be long and probably ranty, so it won't hurt my feelings if anyone skims lol

lemme preface this little diatribe by saying the obvious: folklore is an integral part of any culture. the mythos of a place/people is tied directly to their histories and unique experiences and struggles and they are enriching. this is true of appalachia too.

oral folk traditions especially are incredibly historically appalachian.

i mentioned in a post i made yesterday about murder ballads, how the purpose of these was to warn kids away from doing dumb shit and getting lost in the hollers--falling down cliffs n mineshafts and shit at night. gettin got by wildlife.

it spooked us safe. they served a purpose, and once you got old enough to realize they're as real as the tooth fairy, they just become enjoyable and nostalgic. because they're you're culture.

probably every mountain kid has stories about haints n boogers that were told to them by their grandparents, and they grow up to tell them to their own kids, and so on. some of it stuck with me because i grew up with the folklore.

by that i mean, i'm a whole 31 year old woman and i still avoid looking out a dark window at night cause it gives me the shivers. i still get spooked when i hear a big cat yowling in the woods. but the difference is i know there's not really haints out there crying--it's just a product of my childhood. ghost stories are fun.

the problem comes in when someone outside the culture gets their hands on appalachian oral folk traditions. then, it becomes a familiar problem: outsiders cherry picking appalachia and harming us with the mess they make rifling through it all.

it's all about the surface level and the visuals. they all love a good aesthetic blog, run by some local from out west or some shit who's never stepped foot here.

but as soon as the spooky photo filters come off and the real life marginalized person is left standing there just out of frame, we go back to being disgusting examples of what not to be. decrepit churches n buildings are aesthetic and quirky until they stop being on a pinterest board, and then they just become damning images of an impoverished region who deserves to be laughed at.

now, not to holler 'splain you--this is more for anyone not from here who might read this: it's been a systemic issue for decades; there were literal government campaigns to demonize us to the rest of the nation so they could garner support to cut into our mountains and exploit our labor and resources.

well, they were fuckin successful, and we have been falsely made out to be this homogenous nightmare of a place--"welfare exploiting" maga country who deserves everything we get, and nothing we don't.

by going so far as to take appalachian folklore that we tell each other and picking out the "aesthetic" stuff--the haints and general paranormal--they are pruning what they like from our culture--the safe things, like ghost stories--for their own aesthetic use.

but not only that, they are using it to demonize us… yet again.

'appalachia is scary. it's full of things that will kill you. don't look out the window at night cause a booger will get you.' only they don't call them boogers cause they ain't even from here. ask them what a haint is and they'll ask if u mispelled 'haunt.'

it gets even worse when you consider that so much of it has roots in native american culture, and how that continues to be exploited and misrepresented.

i'm not even innocent of that. a while back i had to check myself because i made a comment on here about ~spooky appalachia~ ignorant to the fact that what i was commenting on was actually a deeply important cultural and spiritual element to local indigenous tribes. my comments were harmful by my failure to educate myself and know better, thereby saying things carelessly.

my point being--i'm from the area. i should have known better.

when outsiders start saying the kind of shit they say about what they think they hear in the woods without even knowing where such an idea comes from, they're disrespecting a displaced, abused and exploited people, harming real cultures just for clicks without even knowing. that's on top of the damage they're doing to greater appalachia.

it's fuckin gross.

i think my favorite one i ever seen was this middle aged white lady going through her pristine mcmansion somewhere in suburbia, pulling the million curtains and locking the million doors, going "nighttime routine in appalachia!! 🤪🤪"

i could be wrong about this particular person--i didn't check their other tiktoks because im sick of them accounts and tired of giving them the benefit of the doubt--but it immediately came off as a transplant because:

1) mcmansion, 2) i dont know nobody here that locks their shit down like that (not locking up could even be argued as a part of my local culture, a reflection of our deep sense of community and trust in our neighbors).

and then the comments was all like "i don't know how you guys live there" and it actually broke my heart and pissed me off because even if--especially if--you're one of us, why the fuck are you harming us for likes? why are you turning people against us in a brand new way?

and to the transplants that do this--why?

you're not even from here, you moved here to this place you hate and made it worse just so your front porch would have a nice view, and are now benefiting socially from perpetuating bullshit about us?

you buy up all the land, land we often had no choice but to sell in the first place to survive instead of passing it on to our families, land we originally took from the indigenous peoples your content comes from.

you overdevelop it and turn it unrecognizable to make it more like the comfortable cities you come from. you gut a mountain town of its local businesses and cultures, you price people out of their homes...

...and then once you settle in all cozy like, you go tell everyone else how scary it is? how you can't trust the hills? like it's a cool paranormal bravery badge to wear? fuck off entirely.

so idk, in short my personal thoughts are: i personally enjoy a little myth as a treat, because the folklore is a part of the gothic, a part of our culture and a part of my childhood. i don't (intentionally) wield it as a weapon or use it as a pedestal to get the weird brand of attention that people like them are after.

and those who do this can get got by them haints for all i care.

#asks #appalachian culture #spooky appalachia #appalachian folklore #appalachian myth #appalachia #appalachian #txt

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quin-ns · 2 days

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The blue II (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

The light chatter filling the restaurant buzzed around you. You leaned on the bar, a rag in your hand as you lazily wiped off menus, your mind yet again wandering back to a few mornings ago.

Ever since you’d woken up on the couch on the Chateau porch, your step brother in the chair across from you, John B in the doorway, and the morning sunlight warming your skin, things seemed off.

John B had been announcing breakfast. It wasn’t anything malicious, but you saw the way JJ eyed him, and John B’s uncomfortable smile in response. Tension was the best way you could think to label it.

You didn’t think anything seemed different between them that night itself, but guys were weird. Their interactions the rest of the day turned back to normal, but that moment stuck in your head for some reason. You couldn’t quite explain it, not even to yourself.

You had a harder time explaining it to Kiara.

“I think you’re just reading into stuff that’s not there,” Kie insisted, passing by you with a platter. She could see the thoughtful look on your face and had probably had enough of your worrying. “Don’t stress out.”

You had to wait until she returned from the table she was waiting on to respond. You helped her out at The Wreck sometimes, picking up a few shifts a week when it was busy. You’d done it just to be kind and give your friend some company, but the paycheck was pretty decent for the hours you worked. You kept a secret stash Luke couldn’t get his grubby hands on, and it helped. When you and JJ weren’t mooching off of your friends for the food in their fridges, you could use the money to stock yours.

JJ used to complain about you working, but not so much anymore. It had mainly been because he didn’t like you working late into the night on days when Kiara got off earlier than you. She always came back to give you a ride home so you didn’t see the big deal, but then JJ started showing up on his bike to escort you himself so she wouldn’t have to. At least it eased his concern enough to let you keep your hours.

You were working the barely populated counter right now, watching Kie zip around, trying to formulate a response in your head.

Maybe you were just overthinking, you were the first to admit you tended to do that. You and JJ practically lived in each other's pockets, if something was up he would tell you… wouldn’t he?

“So you didn't notice anything? Nothing at all?” you asked Kie, the words jumping off your tongue the moment she returned to your side.

The other girl shrugged, stealing two of the menus you had just cleaned.

“JJ just seems like JJ, but… I mean, John B has been looking at you more.”

Your brows curved down. “Looking at me more?”

“Not trying to make him sound like a creep, but yeah.” She smirked, a hand landing on her hip. “Maybe he’s into you.”

“Into me? John B?” It sounded like a joke. “You can’t be serious.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, menus waving like a flag. “You asked what I thought,” she defended as she walked away.

Did she actually think that? If JJ was suspicious, that might explain things, but you couldn’t be sure.

Kiara stuck around and pulled a double since her parents asked her to, and it worked out well so the two of you could ride together.

That’s why when the restaurant was closed and you and Kie were heading out to her car, you were surprised to find JJ waiting in the parking lot with his bike.

He was leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest. The blonde smirked when he saw you, a quip about making him wait on the tip of his tongue

You were about to make a dumb joke about him trying to look like a bad boy stereotype to counter—the white T-shirt and boots really added to that—but Kie beat you both to the punch and spoke first.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when the two of you approached him.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” JJ said to Kie, standing up straight and tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I texted you she was gonna give me a ride.”

You were certain you had.

“I didn’t see it,” JJ said with a shrug. “You wanna ride with me to the Chateau then? Since I detoured all the way here.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic tone and looked to Kie.

“I’ll see you there.” You climbed on the back of the bike, waiting for him to hop on the front. “Come on, since you’re in such a rush.”

“You’re so bossy,” he taunted, but climbed on nonetheless. The bike grumbled to life and he revved the engine. “Hold on.”

You wrapped your arms around his midsection, scooting close enough to him to look over his shoulder. Not seeing where you were going gave you a bit of anxiety, even if JJ did tone down on his recklessness when you joined him for a ride.

The bike zoomed off, taking the lead, with Kie driving behind.

You thought of asking him about what had been on your mind, but the wind in your face and the roar of the bike didn’t really afford you the opportunity to make a lot of conversation.

So you clung to him tight, not bothering to try. If anyone else had been driving you would’ve wanted to get off immediately, but you knew JJ wouldn’t let you get hurt. He always looked out for you, the same way you did for him. He was the one constant you had been able to rely on this past year, but you shook your head before you could delve further into that.

You let yourself be distracted from the thought of prison cells by the security of having JJ close and the knowledge that you’d see the rest of your friends soon. It didn’t stop your heart from racing with every sharp turn you took.

“You alright back there?” he questioned over his shoulder, slowing enough for you to be able to hear him. He must’ve noticed the way you held him tighter.

“All good,” you replied, and it was about 80% the truth.

“I’ve never crashed this thing, you can trust me,” he reminded.

“I know,” you said as he started to speed up again. “I do!” you added, having to yell over the engine.

You felt JJ’s body ripple as he chuckled to himself. It was silly to think you were nervous, you’d been on the back of his bike maybe a hundred times by now.

You truly did trust JJ. You didn’t think he was going to crash or anything, it was just that natural adrenaline paired with your racing thoughts of, well, everything, that made your heart slam against your rib cage the way that it did.

You were safe with him. You always were. JJ wasn’t going to crash, and he certainly wasn’t in a fight with John B. Everything was fine.

Getting close with JJ was one of the best things that happened to you, and it came at a necessary time. Your mom going to jail was hard enough, but your friends turning on you and demonizing you was just salt in the wound. Luke, your step dad, was an asshole and a drunk, and it only got worse when he was left without her.

If it wasn’t for JJ you would’ve run away. You had a bag packed and everything, but no one ever knew about that. Nobody but JJ, and that wasn’t until later. Even if he wasn’t the kind of guy to talk about feelings, he saw you were hurting, and made himself more present. He even introduced you to his friends, who you grew close with quicker than you thought possible. It made you realize what real friends were.

You had never been a fan of Luke, but you didn’t realize how truly awful he was until one night you woke up to an argument, and not too long after JJ found you in your room with a bruise on his cheek. You begged him to leave with you, you told him about your plan and how it wasn’t too late, but he wouldn’t. Maybe he was too loyal to his friends, or at the time he didn’t believe you could make it. Either way, he wouldn’t go. So, you stayed for him.

Your bond strengthened quickly and you soon became a lifeline for one another. You’d had best friends before, but it was different with JJ. You needed him, and he never deprived you. You had a brother and a best friend and a partner in crime wrapped all up in one. Life wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t seem so bad after a while. You had JJ to thank for that. You honestly didn’t know what you’d do without him.

You recognized the yard of the Chateau as JJ turned into it, even though it was dark. You’d been here enough now to feel familiar with it—almost more familiar than your own house. To you, JJ, and your other friends, this was your second home.

With John B’s dad missing, you all tried to be there for him as much as possible. It was the least you could do.

You were especially sympathetic. Even though your mom was gone under different circumstances, you understood what it felt like to have a parent be there one day and gone the next. At least you had the comfort of knowing where your mom was, even if she was locked up hours away. John B had no idea, and that broke your heart for him. Big John was a good guy, you only knew him briefly, but you hoped he was alive somewhere, even just for John B’s sake.

The other night when you’d fallen asleep on the couch with him, the two of you had talked about it. Without the others around, the topic turned a little less lighthearted and both of you opened up about your troubles. Not that the others wouldn’t listen or that they wouldn’t be kind, it was just different with only him. Easier, somehow, in an unexpected way.

JJ stopped the bike and helped you off before letting it rest against a tree. He took you by the hand, making sure both your feet hit the ground.

“Thanks,” you muttered, eyes drawn to a glowing orange light in the distance.

“Campfire, nice,” JJ said, mostly to himself, heading for the other two boys that were waving you over.

It took you a second to notice he had yet to drop your hand, just holding it in his as he led the two of you to John B and Pope. You didn’t say anything about it. His skin was a bit calloused and his palm was warm, but you didn’t mind. You tried to recall if he’d ever held your hand before but you couldn’t seem to remember for certain.

“Where’s Kie?” Pope asked when he spotted the two of you, but not the other girl.

JJ snorted. “Nice to see you too, Pope.”

“She was right behind us,” you recalled, turning to see if she had pulled into the yard yet. In the process, you dropped JJ’s hand, not thinking much of it. You saw her headlights briefly, then they shut off. “Let's get this party started.”

Of course wasn’t actually a party, just the five of you sitting around a small fire on various chairs, lightly sipping beers, discussing whatever random thoughts came to mind.

JJ was on your left, and Kiara was on your right. John B was across from you and next to JJ, and Pope was in between John B and Kie.

You only made mental note of the seating arrangement because you still held your suspicions. You had a hard time letting things go.

At first you picked up on the way JJ was in his seat at an angle, facing more towards you with his back to the boy next to him. You also noticed that John B was smiling at you more than he usually did. Not to say he didn’t smile, and you did consider yourself to be at least mildly amusing, but even you knew you weren’t as funny as he acted like you were tonight.

As if that wasn’t enough, you caught the way Pope kept glancing at Kie, but she was oblivious.

After a sip of your beer, you let out a huff. Not quite a laugh, not quite a scoff. You’d meant to keep it in your head, internally mocking your friend group for being so weird tonight, but it slipped out.

“What’s on your mind?” John B wondered, raising his brows at you. He looked amused already, like he assumed you were going to say something good without even knowing.

You shrugged, not about to admit your thoughts out loud.

“What’s on yours?” you countered, matching his curious expression.

He leaned forward a little and smirked at your deflection.

“If El Dorado is real,” John B quipped.

“It’s definitely not,” Pope added despite John B’s clear teasing tone.

“You don’t dream of gold and riches, Pope?” JJ joined in, unable to resist mocking the realist of the group.

Pope just rolled his eyes, but you smirked.

“Your turn,” John B told you.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Where I’m gonna go on vacation. What do you think—Cancun or Bali?”

John B shrugged. “Cancun is closer. What kind of room are you booking? Ocean view would be nice.”

“Why, you wanna come with?”

John B grinned a little too wide and looked away bashfully.

“I don’t know.” His eyes met yours again above the fire. “Do you want the company?”

Something akin to excitement filled you. It was just a silly conversation, but since when did John B turn the charm on with you?

You couldn’t resist playing into it.

“Maybe I do.”

“Can you two quit it?” Kiara piped up, clearly over the bit you and John B had dragged on. “All the flirting is making me nauseous.”

You knew she was just giving you a hard time, and probably couldn’t help but mess with you two about her suspicions, but it still made your teasing smirk drop. You swallowed and sat back in your seat, looking away from John B to her. Your face felt incredibly warm, and not because of the flames.

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Kie,” John B taunted lightly, able to play it off better than you. “You can come with.”

Kiara rolled her eyes so hard you were sure you heard it.

“What is with everyone today…” she muttered. You might’ve been the only one who heard, because no one reacted to her. She didn’t really want an answer anyway.

“Barring the fact that this vacation is hypothetical,” Pope started, as if you all needed to be reminded. He sat up a little, seeming interested still. “I’d also like to be invited.”

“‘Course you’re goin’, Pope!” JJ announced, clapping a hand down on John B’s shoulder. The boom of his voice was so sudden that you nearly jumped from your chair. JJ grinned at the whole group before focusing on the boy next to him. “You got room for the rest of us? Or were you just gonna steal Y/N and take off?”

Everyone heard the bite in JJ’s tone. The silence that followed was deafening, allowing it to replay in all of your minds before John B spoke. You would’ve thought John B was threatening to kidnap you at gunpoint the way JJ made it seem.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen your friend look so confused as he opened his mouth to respond to JJ, then closed it again. He took another second.

“No one’s stealing anyone,” he clarified to only JJ. The sincerity was a contrast to the ridiculous conversation that had just transpired. “You know that, right?”

JJ clearly wasn’t expecting the question, or maybe he’d planned on making it seem less serious than he was able to. From beside him, you could only see barely the side of his face, but you saw his body shift. He wasn’t sure whether he could relax or not.

You subconsciously glanced at Kiara for confirmation that she too was seeing what you witnessed, and from the pout on her lips and the way her eyes flicked to you, as if asking whether to intervene or not, you knew she did.

“It’s not like we're actually going anywhere,” Kiara pointed out, trying to set their heads on straight.

“Right,” JJ said, as if reminding himself of that. He pulled away from John B completely and slumped back in his chair. He looked embarrassed, throwing you a side glance, but then turned his attention to his beer bottle quickly. “Maybe some other time, when we find El Dorado.”

The joke fell flat

JJ’s gaze stayed on the bottle a second longer before lifting it. He tilted it all the way up, trying to ignore the silence, but with the way he pulled it back and looked annoyed it was clear it was empty.

“I’m gonna get another, you guys want anything?” he offered, already out of his chair and walking across the yard to the house.

When he was out of earshot Pope leaned in to the group. “That was really weird, right?”

You and John B exchanged a look. Then, he stood up.

“I’m gonna…” he trailed off as he pointed towards the house, feet carrying him away from you, Pope, and Kie.

The three of you took a moment, watching John B as he too disappeared into the house.

“Okay, so John B definitely likes you, and I think JJ knows and is pissed,” Kiara concluded, sounding a second away from pulling out a cork board. Except this wasn’t a tough case to crack. “There’s no other explanation.”

“Would JJ even care that much?” Pope pondered aloud.

You looked down at your feet.

“I guess so,” you mumbled, not even bothering to deny either of Kie’s observations.

“I get that he’s being “protective brother””—she did finger quotes around that phrase—“and that’s sweet and all, but he needs to chill,” Kiara said firmly, but the one who needed to hear it wasn’t present.

You wondered what was going on inside. You got antsy just thinking about it.

“Wait, do you think John B likes you?” Pope questioned you.

You felt both him and Kie staring at you, waiting for an answer. When you glanced between them, you grew anxious at the amount of concern in their faces. You especially zeroed in on Kie. The initial teasing giddiness she had at the prospect had long disappeared after seeing how JJ reacted.

You denied it before, and maybe it wasn’t even true, but JJ sure thought it was something. Whatever he thought, he hadn’t been mad at you. No, John B got the brunt of his frustrations. He was protective of you, sure, but… well, you didn’t quite know how to explain it. Your mind was jumbled as you searched for a way to voice your thoughts in an at least somewhat coherent way.

“I—”

Just as you opened your mouth to try, you were cut off by the slam of the porch door of the Chateau.

“Seriously, JJ?” John B called after the blonde, who had barged out the door and was now stomping towards his bike against the tree. “Why are you making such a big deal about this?”

This.

He meant you, didn’t he? You had a good feeling their fight wasn’t about Cancun.

JJ didn’t yell anything back. He just climbed on his bike and revved the engine. You got to your feet just in time to get a clear view as he sped away towards the street and disappeared into the night.

John B looked back towards you. You couldn’t see the face he made in the distance in the dark, but you saw how his hands dropped to his sides in defeat.

“That cannot have been good…” Pope stated uncomfortably.

John B approached you all, his silhouette becoming more illuminated the closer he got to the fire.

“I, um.” He scratched the back of his head. “I think I’m gonna call it a night if that’s cool with you guys.”

You found yourself agreeing with Pope, even though the words didn’t come out.

“Yeah, okay,” Kiara responded first, almost cautiously. She looked to you. “Do you need a ride?”

Of course you did, yours completely abandoned you. It was still nice of her to ask as if it was a polite offer and not a necessity.

“Thanks, Kie,” you told her, forcing a smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

“I need to get home anyway, I gotta work with my dad in the morning,” Pope joined in, trying to make the exit seem more natural. “See you guys later,” he said, bidding you all farewell, anxious to escape the bubble of awkwardness.

Kiara looked between you and John B. You wouldn’t really fix your eyes anywhere, but he was looking at you. You could feel it.

You weren’t sure how you wanted your friend to react, but she took John B’s hint and made an excuse to go to her car—something about getting it started so the AC would flow. It was totally fake, anyway.

You weren’t really listening, more focused on the sound of the crackling fire and nighttime creatures.

John B sighed a little and that caught your attention.

“Sorry he took off like that,” he apologized, offering a sympathetic smile.

You shook your head. “Not your fault.”

He looked down for a second and stuffed his hand into his pockets.

“It… might be,” he admitted, voice holding a guilt that matched his stance. You just watched him, waiting for him to meet your eye and continue. “I kinda have a thing for you and JJ doesn’t exactly like that, apparently.”

You should’ve been more surprised, but you weren’t naive enough to pretend it was some big plot twist reveal.

You nodded slowly instead, unsure how to respond to that.

Sure, you liked John B as a friend, but did you have a crush on him? You didn’t know—didn’t think so. Flirting with him was fun, but you never thought of it being more than that until tonight. If you did like him, or at least if you were starting to, it was now tainted by JJ’s reaction.

“Sorry he freaked out on you,” you said after a long moment.

“Not your fault,” he returned your words back to you. “I wasn’t planning on telling you like this, or telling you at all right now but um… I assumed you probably started to figure it out.”

His awkward laugh eased the tension a little, and you felt your shoulders relax.

“Sorta, maybe,” you confessed. You pointed your thumb over your shoulder to where the jeep was parked. “Kiara kinda suspected it before all this so…”

“Sounds like her,” John B replied easily. “I don’t expect you to say anything back right now, I just thought you might want some sort of explanation for all”—he gestured to the house where what you assumed was an argument between him and your step brother had taken place—“that.”

John B was telling you he had feelings for you, and somehow it had become all about JJ. You bet the blonde would’ve gotten a kick out of that.

“I’ll talk to him, he’ll be fine. He always is,” you told your friend. He nodded, seeming relieved by that. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

As you were passing by John B to leave, you did something you instantly wanted to take back.

You stopped in front of him and pressed up on your tiptoes. You gave him a light kiss on the cheek, more of an apologetic gesture than anything else, but you knew how it would look to him.

He told you he had a crush on you, and you kissed him on the cheek.

Guys didn’t usually appreciate the nuances of things like that, even an intelligent guy like John B. You could only hope he took it for what it was.

Your back was to him before he could question you, and you fought the urge to explain yourself.

“See ya,” John B called after you, sounding like he was about to stumble over his words if he continued.

You clenched your eyes shut for a long moment. It was only because you lost your sense of direction that you opened them again and sought out the jeep.

Kiara was quiet for the beginning of the drive, waiting for you to talk first. When you didn’t, she filled the silence.

“You wanna go to my house? My parents won’t mind,” she offered, sensing the unspoken stress radiating off of you.

You shook your head a little.

“I gotta talk to JJ,” you explained in a few words. It was more than enough. “John B told me he likes me,” you added, laying your head against the window, unable to keep it to yourself.

There was a sort of exhaustion to your voice that didn’t allow Kiara to smile at the revelation right away.

“Told you,” she commented instead, only letting herself chuckle when you cracked a smile at her tone. “Do you like him back?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t think you did but you weren’t exactly sure now. “That’s a question for another night.”

Kie nodded. She witnessed what you had, after all.

“If you don’t know, maybe it’s a sign you don’t,” she suggested, glancing over to you briefly. “But if you do, JJ will get over it.”

Something in you suggested maybe that wouldn’t be the case, but you forced a smile when you tilted your head and met her gaze as if to agree—or thank her, at least, for the support.

When she pulled up outside your house, you had to drag yourself out of the car. A confrontation was coming up, there was no way it wasn’t.

You weren’t going to be able to just pretend nothing happened, and even if you did resist questioning JJ and ignored him instead, he’d sense your annoyance and push you until you talked to him. And talking, in this case, would lead to arguing. You hated arguing.

When you got inside the house, it was dark. The only light came from the TV. With it, you spotted Luke passed out on the couch, so you kept your footsteps quiet as you trekked through clutter back to your room.

Opening your door, you weren’t sure whether to find it surprising or not that JJ was in your bed. He often sought comfort with you in your room after hard times, but you began to wonder if he still did the same even when you weren’t present.

He was laying stomach down, flat on the mattress. His head was to the side, resting on your pillow, and his feet were hanging off the edge. At least he was nice enough to not put his dirty boots on your clean sheets, even if he had invaded your space.

Just like the rest of the house, your room was dark. You shut the door behind you when you stepped in and went for your bedside lamp.

You clicked it on and crossed your arms, looking down at the blonde. You caught him blinking and knew he was awake, although you didn’t actually think he was trying to pretend.

You subconsciously scanned his face—the part that you could see—for new injuries and found nothing.

“That really wasn’t cool,” you scolded him when you saw he was awake. “Fighting with John B then storming off like that.”

He ignored you, just flicking his eyes up to you wordlessly.

You rolled your eyes, frustration brewing. In an instant, you snatched the pillow from beneath his head and tossed it on an empty space on the bed.

JJ sat up with a reluctant frown. “Thanks, I’ll remember that next time.”

Your stomach turned when you saw a new bruise on his cheek. It was on the side of his face he’d hidden in the pillow.

You wanted to help him, to get ice, but his face almost held a warning for you not to.

“Don’t,” he murmured when he saw your expression soften. “It’s fine.”

The way he planted his feet on the ground and stared up at you made him seem like you were putting him in time-out or something. You didn’t like that feeling. Why was he so stubborn?

“There’s not gonna be a next time, you need to fix this,” you insisted, going back to the topic beforehand, feeding the narrative you were trying to resist.

JJ scoffed and even shook his head, it reminded you of how he had acted around all your friends.

“Funny how you seem to think you’re the boss of me,” he challenged, clearly in a bad mood. Whatever anger he’d been feeling at the Chateau had only been amplified by whatever transpired here in your absence. “Why does it matter anyway? Can you just stay out of it?”

“Well, if you weren’t all weird and hadn’t ditched me, maybe I wouldn’t be involved.”

A look of guilt broke through JJ’s rough exterior. His eyes turned to the floor, looking almost ashamed. The room was quiet for a moment, all you could hear was breathing.

“Sorry about that,” he said, voice lower than before. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

You let out an exhale. It was really hard to stay mad at him when all you wanted was to take him into your arms. It must’ve been hard for him to apologize, ‘sorry’ had never been his thing.

“It’s fine, I got a ride with Kie,” you uttered, letting him off the hook even though you should not have. There were more pressing matters. “Did you and John B fight about me?”

That made him look up, a sense of panic in those blue eyes of his.

“Is that what he said?” JJ asked, regaining composure as he stood, but still scanning your face.

“Not in those exact words,” you relayed. “But he told me he liked me and that you weren’t happy about it.”

JJ’s face shifted and he shook his head. He didn’t deny it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed you instead in a way that made it hard not to take offense.

You weren’t used to him treating you this way, like you didn’t deserve to be involved in whatever was going on with him. Not to mention you were directly affected, whether JJ wanted you to be or not.

“How about you don’t worry about it?” you snapped back, defiance kicking in. It was an instinct, you’d never had to talk back to him in this way. Sure, you’d argued before about little things, but this wasn’t that. “If I like him or not, it’s my choice.” You furthered his surprise by jabbing a finger at his chest. “Not yours.”

You saw JJ’s jaw tense. He was trying to find the right words.

“You can’t,” he came up with, spitting it out like he couldn’t keep it in.

You furrowed your brows, the corners of your lips tugging down.

“Can’t?” you repeated in disbelief. “Okay, JJ.”

“I’m serious,” he replied to your heavy sarcasm. “You just can’t,” he argued, with noticeably less power than before. It sounded pleading, even. Like he was begging you not to even consider it.

“Why?” you questioned, less fire igniting your temper. If anything, you were curious now.

“Can you just drop it?” he shot back, running a hand through his messy hair. He appeared more panicked than angry, realizing the corner he’d backed himself into.

“No, not when you made it a thing. Just tell me what is going on,” you pressed, wanting a straightforward answer.

What was so awful about this to him?

The fingers in his hair tightened, like he was going to rip the strands out.

“Can you not ask me that?” he nearly demanded, dropping his hand, fingers twitching at his side. The request was so ridiculous you couldn’t help but laugh. JJ’s frown deepened into something more hurt. “I don’t want to talk about this with you,” he determined, trying to walk past you.

You put a hand out, stopping him by the chest. You tilted your chin up at the close proximity, making him meet your eye.

“Can you just answer the question?” you countered, using little force to keep him in place. You stared up, watching him as he stared at you wordlessly. “You’re not a coward, JJ.” Maybe it was antagonistic, but you wanted an answer. You were at the end of your rope. “You always speak your mind—so do it.”

Then, JJ did just about the last thing you ever expected him to.

He kissed you.

#jj maybank x reader #step brother!jj maybank #step brother!!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #stepbrother!jj maybank #jj maybank x you #step bro!jj maybank #the blue #outer banks #quin-ns writing #obx

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star4daisy · 3 days

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so it's been two months since I've wrote anything and thought this might be a good way to get back into it heheh

may: 1 to 4 prompts: rose, dread, illusion, hopeless words: 731 @rosekillermicrofic

There were a lot of things Barty had been expecting to feel: happiness, excitement, anticipation, love. What he hadn’t predicted was the dread.

The anxiety that was taking over his entire body made him twitchy enough that the flight attendant asked if he was alright. He told her he was fine and asked for another glass of whiskey. In truth, Barty felt like he might throw up at any moment from the prospect of seeing Evan again after a year.

They had parted ways amicably and agreed to remain friends while they were unable to see each other, neither of them knew the amount of time Barty would need to stay away to solve the matters of his inheritance and to whom his father’s company would belong. He tried to do everything as fast as he could to be able to come back home. To Evan.

Nonetheless, it took Barty way longer than he would’ve desired to stay apart from him. Enough time for him to see Evan had gone on a date with someone else. Someone who kept popping up on his social media from time to time, more regularly than Barty liked. Hell, if it was up to him there wouldn't be someone else at all. It made him want to break his phone in half.

Sure, they had agreed they could go out with other people, but it didn’t mean Evan should have wanted to, even though Barty had been the one to suggest it. It had been more out of the idea that he couldn’t keep himself from fucking everything up due to not being able to have sex with other people.

Not because he wanted them, but because it was how Barty dealt with the hard things. It always was whiskey and sex for him. Sometimes coke too, but if he needed to work on serious business he couldn’t be going to the company after snorting. Well, he could. But considering the amount of times he had fucked up due to it while his father was still alive, Barty thought it would be for the best to keep it only on the weekends.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t fucked anyone else all year. He was only human. But he also knew it was different for Evan, he couldn’t have sex with people he didn’t have feelings for. So for him to take that step it meant something completely different than it did for Barty.

To be hurt by it might’ve been hypocrisy on his part, but he had never cared to be a good person. All that had ever mattered to him was to have Evan by his side. Barty had failed utterly like he did with most things in his life, or so his father used to claim.

Barty’s first vision of him looked like a dream, he couldn’t help but wonder if Evan was a figment of his imagination, an illusion that he’d been seeing ever since they had parted. Except that this version in front of him looked nothing like the one he’d been imagining. That version looked exactly like how Evan looked the last time they’d seen each other at the airport, his white dreadlocks pulled out of his face on a high ponytail that made his features even sharper.

Now his hair was shaved but still discoloured, Barty had never thought he could look better and yet, once again, Evan managed. It was only when he was standing in front of him that Barty noticed Evan had been holding something in his hand.

A white rose.

“My rose,” were the first words out of Barty’s mouth.

“I missed you,” Evan didn’t look nearly as unsure as Barty had felt when he extended his hand and offered him the flower.

Barty took it, allowing their hands to brush together, he felt it nicking his skin and blood pooling out of it as soon as he held it. There were remains of dried blood on Evan’s hand too, Barty wondered how long Evan had been standing there waiting for him holding the beautiful rose close to his chest while it tore his hands apart.

Evan hadn’t bothered taking the thorns out of it. He never did. Barty didn’t bother stopping the too-wide smile that wanted to tear its way out of his face.

Perhaps they weren’t as hopeless as he once had thought.

#might do a part 2 #who knows #rosekiller microfic #rosekiller #marauders #evan rosier #ao3 #fanfic #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #slytherin #rosekiller fanfiction #rosekiller fic #barty crouch jr x evan rosier #barty x evan #evan rosier x barty crouch jr #marauders fic #hp marauders #marauders era

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madlori · 2 days

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Here's where I am with Buddie.

[CW: I am using the Buddie tag on this post, even though the gist of it is that I'm increasingly doubtful that it'll ever happen. This is NOT an anti-Buddie essay. If you'd rather not read about this topic, please keep scrolling. The bulk of the essay is behind the cut.]

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I've thought a lot about this over the weeks since 7x04 aired. It's not a secret that I'm wildly enthusiastic about the BuckTommy pairing (as are many fans) but what does that mean for my thoughts and opinions about Buddie, a pairing I still love and for which I am still writing fic (slowly but surely…)?

It's become increasingly difficult to reconcile hopes for Buddie with dread for a BuckTommy breakup, but if the show managed to pull off a breakup that did not destroy me, I would still be all in for a Buddie endgame.

But more and more, I don't think it's in the cards, and I'm increasingly okay with that.

First off, I know it's a common assumption that Buck and Tommy have an expiration date, and that it cannot last. That may very well be the case, but…the show is not acting like it, nor are they presenting this arc as if it's short-lived. Episodes 4-6, while also being about other things (especially the amazing Madney wedding plot in 6) were also a bit of a trilogy about Buck discovering his sexuality and taking tentative steps into a relationship with another man. It didn't go…particularly smoothly, but the events of 7x06 where they were concerned had a completely different tone. They had a much more settled vibe in the karaoke club scenes, from Tommy's very boyfriendly "check-in" look before he had to leave, to Buck's casual/distracted "Be safe" (as if he's said this before) and just how they spoke to each other and touched each other was much more comfortable than in the coffee meetup. Which makes me think it's been a few weeks and they've seen each other a few times in the interim.

And then that kiss. Putting aside that it was juxtaposed with a literal wedding kiss, there was nothing uncertain or hesitant about it. It felt like a very arc-capping kiss, coupled with the reveal to the rest of Buck's friends and family, and the clear message was "Okay, they're done 'getting together' now, they are together and will be together going forward, even if we don't see Tommy every episode (much as we don't see Karen every episode)." We know Tommy will be around through the end of S8, if not in every remaining episode. After that, we'll see.

A lot of fans have viewed one of the guys coming out as queer to be a first step towards a Buddie future, but I have to say I've never been super comfortable with that logic. I've always thought that if they were going to get together, or both be revealed to be queer, it would have to be at the same time, with each other, via them getting together. The minute they pulled the trigger on Bisexual Buck, I immediately thought that this made Buddie far less likely. Why?

Because it would mean that the writers/showrunners would be making BOTH their "hot younger firefighter" characters queer…separately. In separate storylines. Distinct from each other. And I just don't see that happening. I'm not saying it SHOULDN'T happen. I'd be over the moon. I'm saying I think that's unlikely.

As much as it pains me to say it, I think Eddie will be written as straight and will continue to be written as straight. I don't disagree with the many examples of queer coding we've all seen - the problem is all of them can be just as easily interpreted as arising from a different trauma. Almost everything we've seen from him that could very legitimately be read as breadcrumbs for a queer identity for him could also be rooted in his trauma over Shannon's death, his family trauma, his PTSD, or his general anxiety over being enough for people. He can be read as having sexuality crises. But he can also be read as having other crises with the same results.

I'm not seeing a sexuality crisis for Eddie in the future. I just don't feel like that's where they're taking him. They're taking him somewhere -- he's got storylines coming up -- but I think they're going to have to do with his family, possibly his friendship with Buck, maybe his relationship (I think we can all agree Marisol isn't going to last, she's like the anti-Tommy in that she's been around way longer but has infinitely less of a presence), and Christopher. That's a lot to deal with just right there. If I'm wrong, I will be delighted to be wrong.

But.

I think the show will continue to prioritize and showcase Buck and Eddie's very deep and emotional friendship, which is revolutionary in its own quiet way. Another thing that makes me think they're setting Tommy up to be a long term love interest is that one of the first things they did with him was affirm that he will not come between Buck and Eddie, give him his own relationship with Eddie and Chris, and have him show that he understands and respects the depth of their bond. Not to mention they've integrated him with the firefam. No other of Buck's love interests have gotten this treatment (Taylor had the most contact with the firefam, but I don't think anyone would say she was integrated, LOL). And it shows how committed they are to maintaining Buck and Eddie's friendship as a key emotional element of the show. Tim has also said this, repeatedly.

People often say that there's no explanation for how Buck and Eddie are with each other if it's not romantic - I read a fantastic essay that pointed out that this statement is the reason their platonic friendship IS so important. Men should be able to be vulnerable and loving with each other without it being romantic, as women can be. If we're unable to see a loving friendship without interpreting it as romantic or sexual, what does that say about the kind of male friendships we see everywhere, that makes this one so different?

I know this is an old anti-Buddie argument and I'm not anti-Buddie nor do I mean it's wrong to see it as romantic. I still do. I'm saying if it's not, if it never is, what it is, is already valuable and special, especially when one of them is now openly queer and dating a man.

Anyway. That's where I am with it, and my interpretation of where the show is with it.

#buddie #bucktommy #9-1-1 #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #buck x tommy #meta #9-1-1 meta #shippy thoughts

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luna-rainbow · 2 days

Text

Bucky’s metal arm has touch sensors. They’ve just never been calibrated properly. The soldier learned only what was important to him on the field, the cold hard metal of a gun and how much pressure to use when pulling the trigger.

Steve notices this, as he helps Bucky settle in to his new life. He sees Bucky touching the soft flannel bedsheets first with his right hand, then with his left hand, brows knitted in deep concentration.

Uncertainly, Steve asks if he doesn’t like it, if it is too warm or too soft—

“Soft,” Bucky picks up the word from Steve’s ramble. He lowers his head and looks at the pastel sheets between his fingers, and repeats. “Soft.”

The cotton tee, the woollen cardigan, the denim pants, the mesh sneakers, he gently rubs each textile between his fingers with both hands. He does the same when in the kitchen, running his fingers lightly over the coarse heads of a cauliflower, the pockmarked rind of an orange, the sharp stalks of rosemary, the glossy skin of a plum.

His vocabulary recovers more with time, and whenever Steve asks how it feels, he can give a few extra words — firm, smooth, hard, sharp, rough. On the occasions he says the word soft, his whole expression relaxes and all the lines soften, and Steve wishes he could swathe the man with everything soft and fluffy just to keep it there.

They sit down to watch TV after dinner. lt’s their ritual. A time when they sit together silently — when Bucky gets used to being in the same physical space, without feeling the pressure to make conversation. It seems silly but Steve has seen the difference it has made, from Bucky wedging himself into the other end of the couch, to now relaxing next to him, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they reach for the crackers on the table.

This has been a particularly long day, Steve having just returned from a 3 day mission where he barely caught a wink. About ten minutes into the soothing documentary about red pandas, he is fast asleep. He wakes to something brushing against his hand, light and tremulous. Then something a little cooler and a lot harder does the same, and he realises what it is.

Bucky snatches his hands back when Steve opens his eyes. He says guiltily, “Sorry.”

Steve reaches out and rests his palm over Bucky’s metal fingers. “How does it feel?”

Bucky searches his face warily, and then he relaxes. Steve feels a light tickle as the small metal plates whir quietly under his hand.

“Soft,” Bucky answers. After a moment, he adds, “Warm.”

Steve threads his fingers through the metal ones, and hold the hand close. After a little while, he feels the metal fingers curl slowly until they rest, ever so gently, against the back of his hand.

“Tingly,” Bucky suddenly says, out of nowhere.

Steve smiles and answers, “Same.” He points to his chest, “Here.”

He can see the concern and confusion as Bucky glances a few times at his ribs.

One day, Bucky will understand what that means. Steve looks down at their linked fingers and runs his thumb along the metal plates, drawing a slight shiver from the man beside him.

This is a good start.

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky fanfiction #ficlet

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merakiui · 5 hours

Note

psssssssssst which twst boy would probably buy onlyfans from sex worker darling trying to make some money for the week?

All of them. <3 and they all think they’re so unique for supporting you through this means, but it turns out everyone else is subscribed to the highest tier (or whichever tier they’re able to afford). Suddenly Ace is very dedicated to his part-time job as he works to make enough for the highest tier. Even students like Jack buy from you, but it’s only to support you (not salivate over the content you’re putting out… that’s definitely part of it).

Of course Azul has to get the highest tier, as do most of the Housewardens as they firmly believe they’re entitled to the best of the best. And it also supports you much more than the lower tiers! Because Azul is so charitable, he’s even willing to send you more money (please notice him). Vil loves to admire these risqué and intimate photos, as does Rook. Sometimes it’s not even for sexual purposes. They just find you to be the sweetest work of art they’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Idia claims he’s only subscribing so he can get top-tier references for when he’s drawing or practicing lewd anatomy. This is partially true, actually, because he does indeed practice. But then all of his sketches are of you. <3

Riddle had to convince himself over and over that this was okay. He’s not breaking any rules. In fact, buying the highest tier actually helps you! So he’s just doing what any good person and dependable Housewarden would do: support those who require assistance. He spends the entire week feeling guilty and avoiding looking at the photos/videos because he feels like he’s being a gross pervert. But you willingly put this content out there for him and others, and it’s all in accordance with the site’s rules! So… it’s fine if he masturbates to the sight of your nudity.

Floyd has so much fun waiting for the new photos and videos you’ll upload. You always do something different and it keeps him endlessly entertained. Sometimes you even take requests from your subscribers! He wants to see you do all sorts of exciting things. Jade’s much the same, but somehow Floyd’s requests seem so softcore compared to the things Jade wants from you. ^^;;;;

Ruggie buys the highest tier using Leona’s card. Leona did say he could get something for himself, and he never put any restrictions on what could or couldn’t be bought. <3 no wonder why this is the highest tier. The things you put out really are worthy of being in this tier, and he makes sure to save each and every one should a day come when he’s not able to look anymore.

Speaking of Leona, he thinks it’s impressive you’re able to keep up with all of the tiers you have and do something new every time. He won’t settle for anything less than the highest, and he enjoys the things you do for that tier. You never disappoint. Although pictures and videos are only good fantasy fuel. They can’t compare to the real thing. Perhaps he won’t have to wait any longer to meet you in person when you start doing meet-ups with one lucky subscriber from the highest tier.

Malleus doesn’t know how to work lots of technology, so he probably seeks someone out to show him how it’s done. He doesn’t see any shame in it. This is essentially artwork, is it not? The things you do can be appreciated in a unique, romantic light when you’re Malleus Draconia. Either that, or Lilia buys it. And of course if waka-sama has it, then Sebek must as well. He thinks he’s so much better than Silver because he’s subscribed to the highest tier just like his lord and Lilia, and what is Silver? Nothing! Sebek looks ready to crumble into dust when Silver reveals he’s always been subscribed to you from the very beginning. T_T

Kalim most definitely buys the highest tier! He’s probably your most generous subscriber (sorry, Azul). He’s always ready to send you hefty donations. He’s very sweet about it. Jamil would manage his absurd spending habits, but he’s also quite attracted to the types of things you’re posting for your highest tier, and Kalim’s basically funding it. Those shibari and collar posts reeled him in and have since dug their claws into him. He’s down bad…

Omg and Cater!!! He was probably one of the first out of the twst cast to buy your onlyfans. He’s a very loyal subscriber. <3 Cater gets bragging rights because he’s your mutual on Magicam and sometimes the two of you chat. You might even send him a few photos that can’t be seen on any of your tiers yet… a special privilege for your favorite moot. :)

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw

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literaryavenger · 1 day

Text

Stargazing

Summary: You and Bucky are spending some time together under the stars.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: None, just a whole lot of fluff. Nerd Bucky. Nerd Reader. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word count: 1K because I'll kick myself I can't make anything short.

Prompt: we're sitting on your roof at midnight and you're pointing out every constellation but out of every star, you shine the brightest.

A/N: I wrote this story in like two hours, so bear with me. I don't know a lot about Astronomy, so I googled everything I put on here. I do know my fair share of Mythology but I realise some things may be wrong or just simply different from things you know, who knows Mythology knows there are a lot of versions of the same story, anything I wrote here are the version I've learned over the years, so no hate, but I'm always open to talk about it more if anyone wants to. Always respectfully, of course. Also, I wrote and posted this from my phone so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.

Masterlist

“And see those three stars that make an angle?” Bucky points up to them. “That's Coma Berenices.”

One thing not many people know about Bucky Barnes is his love of Astronomy.

Back in the 40s he loved studying the constellations, learning as much as he could. So, after he regained control of his mind and joined the Avengers, he spends his free time catching up in all things space related he's missed since.

You have never been particularly interested in Astronomy, but seeing how passionate your boyfriend gets when it comes to it, you can never say no when he asks you to stargaze with him.

That's why you've spent countless times now in the position you are right now: Laying on a blanket next to Bucky on the roof of the Avengers Compound, looking at the stars and listening to him tell you all about them.

“That one's Cassiopeia…” He points to it. “That one's Lacerta…”

You giggle a little at the funny name and look at him. “Lacerta?”

“It means ‘the Lizard’.” He informs you with a grin while looking at you too.

“Of course it does.” You say playfully and look back up.

“That one is Camelopardalis…” He traces the stars to give you an idea of the shape.

“Now you're just making things up.” You tease him while looking back at his face to find him glaring playfully at you.

“It means giraffe.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Alright, you little geek.” You smile at his indignified scoff but you can see he's fighting a smile, and losing.

You look at each other with goofy smiles for a moment before you softly say, “What else?” prompting him to go on.

He looks back at the stars for a moment before he starts tracing another constellation.

That's something Bucky loves to do, like the most intricate game of connect the dots ever, and he wins every time.

Sometimes you've even made it into a game, trying to find all the stars in a constellation before the other, but he has the unfair advantage of actually knowing them all. But you always have fun playing, even if you end up behaving like children.

And looking at him right now, his eyes on the stars and his hand up to trace them with his finger, you can't take your eyes off of him and you know, out of all the constellations, he shines the brightest.

“That…” He traces the biggest constellation he's shown you tonight. “is the Ursa Major.”

His voice snaps you out of it and you look back up. He's shown you these same constellations time and time again, every time with the same passion and every time you listen intently, just enchanted by his voice.

“And that one…” He traces another one. “is Pegasus.”

Huh, that was a new one. You look at it while tilting your head. “Pegasus?”

“Yeah, that one I don't know what it means.” He chuckles, about to move on to another set of stars when you interrupt him.

“Pegasus is a winged horse from Greek Mythology.” You say before you can stop yourself.

Mythology is something you've always found fascinating and, much like Bucky with Astronomy, you've always tried to learn as much as you could about it.

Unlike Bucky, you've always kept this small passion to yourself, which is why Bucky is looking at you right now with a confused yet amused raise of his eyebrow.

“What? Can't a girl know a random fact?” You say playfully while looking back up at the stars to hide your slight blush.

“So that's all it is? A random fact?” Bucky asks, his eyes still on you and you know he can tell there's more to it. He knows you pretty well, after all.

“Maybe…” You say playfully, finally looking at him with a small smile.

“Tell me more about it?” He says softly, not pushing you to talk but letting you know he's open to listen if you want.

“Well…” You say quietly after a moment, looking back at the stars as you think about what to tell him. “Pegasus was born from Poseidon-”

“Poseidon?” He interrupts you with a small frown. “The god of the ocean?”

“Yeah…” You chuckle, looking at him. “He's also known as the God of Horses.”

“He is?” He frowns more. “Why?”

“Well, according to Greek mythology he invented them.” You explain with a smile. “He created them out of foam from the ocean in order to be elected as the patron god of a new city. But Athena created an olive tree and the citizens saw that as more useful and chose her, naming their city Athens.”

Bucky looks at you with awe, his entire attention on you now as you enthrall him with your words.

“And he was the father of Pegasus?” Bucky asks you, just wanting to hear more of your voice.

“Yeah, Poseidon was his father and Medusa his mother.” You look back up at the stars, trying to recall more details of the story. “He was born when Medusa got decapitated by Perseus. The blood from her neck fell into the ocean and, out of the white foam, came Pegasus, along with Chrysaor.”

“Chrysaor?” He asks, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Another horse with wings?”

“No, he was a boar with wings.” You correct him. “Chrysaor comes from a name that means ‘he who has a golden sword’. Pegasus doesn't have a meaning, but it symbolizes divine inspiration or the journey to Heaven, because…”

You keep talking about Greek mythology as you look at the stars, Bucky’s eyes on you the whole time.

He finally understands why you love hearing him talk about Astronomy so much even though you have virtually no interest in it.

The way you talk about Mythology, the knowledge and the passion you show… It's breathtaking to see, and Bucky never wants to stop listening to you at this moment.

If you were looking at him you'd see the same look you have on your face when you look at him talking about the stars, the same look he has when he's looking at the stars…

He may love to stargaze, but the biggest, brightest of them all is laying right beside him, and that’s definitely his favorite.

#bucky barnes #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfiction

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hippolotamus · 18 hours

Text

Apparently I had one more in me. So, I present Part 3 (Buck's POV) of the cleopatra series (my 911 7x06 codas). This takes place just before Part 1.

my flesh it was my currency | 7x06 coda | 1k | E Part 1, Part 2

“Ohgodohgodohgodohfuck!” Buck babbles, clawing at the bed sheets, panting and gasping, his words slurring and blending even further into a single high-pitched incoherent whine. He’s on that desperate edge, so close to tipping over, all he needs is a little push.

“Christ, Evan.” Tommy adjusts, reaching forward to stroke Buck’s cock in time with each thrust.

After a grueling shift of fighting wildfires, Buck doesn’t even know how Tommy is still standing let alone fucking him into the mattress like it’s his job. It takes three pumps at most before Buck’s vision whites out and he’s clenching around Tommy, starlight and fire and lightning coursing through his veins.

The next thing he knows he’s being gingerly rolled on his side. He doesn’t know which direction he’s facing, is barely conscious enough to open his eyelids more than a fraction of an inch. He clumsily paws in front of him until he’s wrapped around his partner’s torso, one leg slung over Tommy’s thigh.

They haven’t actually defined what they are and Buck finds himself too nervous to ask after blurting out the invitation to Maddie’s wedding. (Thankfully one of the less embarrassing phrases to impulsively leave his mouth.) Regardless, he and Tommy are still getting to know each other, and the idea of coming off as too much, of losing this (again) before it really begins, is terrifying on a different level than he’s experienced in the past.

He nuzzles into sweat slick skin, simultaneously fighting the urge to back away because too many people have labeled him clingy after sex. Not that Tommy’s made him feel that way. Far from it. He hasn’t given Buck the impression that clinging like an affectionate octopus is anything other than normal and appreciated. In fact, he regularly seems to pull Buck closer, inviting him into sharing personal space. But old habits tend to die hard.

“This okay?” Buck murmurs.

“Mmm? Is what okay?”

“Um, cuddling.” Buck feels his cheeks heat, flustered that his insecurities make him want to check in.

The length of Tommy’s body seems to stiffen against Buck and – oh no – he can’t have messed up that badly.

“Evan.” Tommy lightly sweeps his thumb over Buck’s birthmark before tilting his chin, coaxing him to look up. “Look at me.”

Buck complies easily, following the soothing command, meeting bright blue eyes that he’s sure he could stare into for hours.

“Of course it’s okay. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clearer before.”

“No, it’s not you. It’s not that. It’s- this is probably gonna sound really dumb.” Tommy arches one eyebrow, as if challenging Buck to say anything worse than he did on their first date. It’s enough to ease the tension and make Buck smile. “In the past, people have made it seem more like an imposition or obligation. Like once the actual, y’know, sex part was done that the touching was, too. Sometimes – a lot of the time – I felt like that’s all anyone really wanted. Like they didn’t actually want…. me. Just something I could do for them. Like I said, it’s- it’s dumb.”

“It’s not, though.” Tommy counters, beginning to trace random patterns on Buck’s back, using just enough pressure so it isn’t ticklish. “Even though it very much can be, sex shouldn’t be transactional. Unless there’s money changing hands. Well, not really even then- the point is that it shouldn’t feel that way. It’s perfectly normal to want intimacy and closeness. I mean, I certainly do.”

“Yeah?”

Tommy gives him a lopsided smile that never fails to make him feel like a swarm of butterflies have come to life in his belly. “Hopefully I have made it clear that I don’t do casual. I may be a bit older, and not racking up phone numbers or dates quite like I used to, but I promise you wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you to be.” He joins their hands, interlacing their fingers and seems to search Buck’s face. Similar to the charged, nervous, hope filled moments after their first kiss. Just like then, Buck wants Tommy to find what he’s looking for. “Can you trust that, Evan?”

The ‘can you trust me?’ goes unspoken, but Buck hears it anyway.

“Yeah,” Buck whispers. “I can. I can do that.”

“Good.” Tommy’s grin widens, and he scrunches his nose adorably as he leans forward to capture Buck’s mouth in a kiss. It’s slow and languid, but still has his heart fluttering and skipping a few beats.

They wind themselves further together as they continue kissing, creating a cocoon that makes him feel safe and comfortable. Maybe even a little bit wrapped in something that’s far too early to name. Whatever it is, Buck likes it. Likes the way he feels emboldened to take more, attempting to press their bodies even closer despite the clear disagreement from the laws of physics.

“We should try to get some sleep,” Tommy says, smirking when Buck chases his lips. “It’s been a long-” He pauses, glancing towards the golden gray light creeping into the room. “Night, apparently.”

“Oh, shit. Didn’t realize it was so late. Early?” Buck giggles, suddenly recognizing how physically and mentally exhausting the last forty-eight hours have been. “Seriously, how are you even awake right now?”

“Well, rumor has it I’m a beast.”

Buck ducks his head, blushing as a thrilling jolt runs up his spine at the memory.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Tommy warns, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Sleep.”

“Sleep,” Buck agrees. He studies Tommy’s features for a moment longer, wanting to capture one last glance before he gives in. He wonders if the kaleidoscope of joy, awe, excitement and optimism that’s been building, painting every moment since an apology and incorrect coffee order, transfers to his skin with the same intensity. If Tommy can see the effect he has on Buck with this new facet of himself that’s been opened up. He hopes so.

“Not late. Right on time,” he sighs, turning in Tommy’s arms, situating himself as the little spoon and finally submitting to an easy, peaceful slumber.

#911 spoilers #hippo writes #911 7x06 #coda fic #bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy ficlet #tommy kinard #evan buckley #the cleopatra series #i swear i'm done now

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simplyreveries · 21 hours

Note

Hi hi I just seen your new post and I came running.

Feel free to deny or anything like that. This is a platonic Diasomnia with a gn reader who sees Lilia as a father figure and is around Silver's age and sees Silver, Malleus, and Sebek as brothers.

diasomnia

they're already a pretty tightknit group and family with one another, it's no different with you around. in fact, I'd say they have more of a protective nature, that's usually with someone like malleus or silver even if it isn't always obvious-- they're always looking out for you in each of their own ways. whether or not you reside in ramshackle, diasomnia is basically your home now since you're there most of the time.

lilia is his typical playful self with you, but since you're so close you him, yes you are succumbed to eating his "meals" that he so graciously goes out of his way to make for you. I guess it's the thought that counts. but the number of times he has made you treats like a birthday cake on special occasions and it being awful is too many times to count. also, its canon i think that lilia cuts his own hair and does silvers... he will 100% try to do the same to you be warned. he will want to dye it too.

he also gets genuinely proud and praises for things you've done well in... he is so supportive. but he has this attitude of already knowing that you could do it anyway. with all of his energy around you he also can be completely comforting and consoling for any of your troubles. you literally cannot hide anything from him, he knows you too well enough to have you act like something isn't bothering you and making you upset. truthfully, he is so keen and observant he probably will already know what the issue even is- but he'll gently remind you to let it out and be open with him.

malleus is more of the quieter type around you, that looks quite intimidating whenever he is lurking beside you. but he is as doting as he can be to someone like you, he holds dearly. you're one of the few people, along with the others in your little circle of family in diasomnia. he considers it to be precious and very special to him. it's funny how he doesn't seem to react any indifferently if you wanted to something as uncharacteristic for him like you make flower crowns from the courtyard and putting them on him.

as i have mentioned, yes, he does have slight tendency to be protective of you- he certainly has told you some of his... distaste for anyone in the school when it comes to anything romantic for you. and for the love of all things, it better not be someone like leona. I'd genuinely love to thing about how that would play out.

I think silver shows his care for you in ways such as teaching you how to use a sword and defense. he looks out for you like that, he does enjoy having someone to train and practice with anyway. he is slightly awkward when it comes to doing things like giving advice, but he wants to look more respectable and someone you can look up to in your eyes. It's just... he is a sheltered guy who has spent his life living with faes he has no clue how to navigate most social things too. he IS someone who will listen to you always though even if he doesn't have the words.

he trusts you a lot and always asks you to make sure you help him stay awake during the day-- if you catch him dozing off you have permission to shake or nudge him awake. if its you thats dozing off he'll mumble something about you "not getting enough sleep" but he lets you have your peace around him.

you're like the only person who can somewhat get away with teasing or messing around with him. like he'll always react upset btu you still can do it. he slightly changes his negative views and annoyances with humans, you're like this exception he's felt along with silver. he'll still grudging call you human but its not with the amount aggression he may have with others haha. like silver, he enjoys practicing the sword with you, but its more of a challenge that he enjoys having.

he also forces you to study with him if he feels that you're struggling, he tries to make it not seem like he's looking out for you. he always chastises you for always getting caught up into trouble with the other first years like ace, deuce, and grim. may or may not think they're a bad influence sometimes when it comes to what they get themselves in.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #LOL kinda long mb #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver twst #sebek zigvolt #twst imagines #twst hcs #not proofreadd

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estapa-edwards · 2 days

Text

RIVALS - J. HUGHES

paring: jack hughes x reader

word count: 2.3k

requested? yes - jack falling in love with his rival player from the rangers and the media and everyone alwyss comparing the two and they like to tease each other back and fourth and people think they are enemies but really they have been friends since they both moved away from their families to jersey and york, they ended up living in the same building and became good friends despite the rivalry, they just love to tease each other on the ice and making everyone speculate, something important goes on and jack brings her as his plus one and he is like she’s been my gf for years didn’t you know?

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As I lace up my skates in the familiar locker room of Madison Square Garden, I can feel the buzz of anticipation coursing through me. Tonight, like every other night when we face off against the New Jersey Devils, the media will paint our matchup as an epic clash between bitter rivals. They'll hype up the drama, the tension, the supposed animosity between me, Y/N, of the New York Rangers, and Jack Hughes of the Devils. But what they don't know is that behind the scenes, Jack and I are actually good friends.

It's funny how things work out sometimes. We met shortly after we both moved away from home to pursue our hockey dreams. Fate seemed to have a sense of humor when it placed us in the same apartment building. At first, we were just acquaintances, nodding at each other in the elevator or exchanging small talk in the lobby. But as time went on, our friendship blossomed.

Jack is one of those people who's impossible not to like. He's got this infectious energy, always cracking jokes and keeping everyone around him in high spirits. And despite being fierce competitors on the ice, off the rink, he's one of the most genuine and down-to-earth guys I've ever met.

From the moment we stepped onto the ice as rookies, Jack and I knew that we were destined to be compared and contrasted by the media. They loved to pit us against each other, to scrutinize every goal, every assist, every move we made on the ice. And as much as we tried to brush it off, it was hard not to feel the weight of those expectations.

But amidst the chaos of the rivalry, Jack and I found something unexpected: a genuine friendship. It started with small gestures – a friendly nod during warm-ups, a quick word of encouragement after a tough game – but it quickly grew into something deeper. We discovered that we had a lot in common, both on and off the ice, and that despite wearing different jerseys, we shared a mutual respect and admiration for each other's talents.

As our friendship blossomed, we found ourselves gravitating towards each other more and more, seeking refuge from the pressures of the rivalry in each other's company. We'd sneak away from the prying eyes of the media and our respective teams' management to grab lunch together or hang out at one of our apartments, swapping stories and jokes like old friends.

Of course, we knew that our friendship had to remain a secret. Our PR managers made sure of that, reminding us constantly that we were supposed to be bitter rivals, not bosom buddies. But in a strange way, the secrecy only made our bond stronger. It was like we were in on this big, inside joke together, sharing a secret that no one else knew.

And so, we became experts at playing our parts. We'd exchange playful jabs during interviews, making sure to throw in a few subtle digs to keep up the facade of animosity. We'd celebrate our victories against each other on the ice with exaggerated displays of triumph, all the while exchanging knowing looks behind the scenes.

---

As rookies, stepping onto the ice for the first time felt like stepping into a pressure cooker. The weight of expectations hung heavy in the air, fueled by the constant comparisons and contrasts the media loved to draw between Jack and me.

"Hey, Y/N," Jack called out as we lined up for warm-ups before our first game against each other. His voice cut through the tension, and I turned to see him flashing a grin. "You ready to show the world what we're made of?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at his infectious enthusiasm. "You bet, Jack. Just don't expect me to go easy on you out there."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a playful wink.

And so it began – a friendly rivalry that would soon evolve into something much deeper. As the games went by, Jack and I found ourselves drawn to each other, seeking solace from the relentless scrutiny of the media in the comfort of each other's company.

"Rough game out there, huh?" Jack said one night, catching me in the hallway outside the locker rooms after a particularly grueling match.

I nodded, grateful for the chance to decompress with someone who understood the pressures we faced. "Yeah, tell me about it. I swear, they're never gonna let us live this one down."

Jack chuckled, clapping me on the back in a show of solidarity. "Well, at least we can commiserate together, right?"

And so our friendship blossomed, forged in the fires of competition and camaraderie. We'd steal moments away from the prying eyes of the media, grabbing lunch together or hanging out at one of our apartments, swapping stories and jokes like old friends.

"Man, I can't believe we have to keep this friendship a secret," I grumbled one day as we lounged on Jack's couch, watching highlights from our latest game.

Jack shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Eh, adds to the intrigue, don't you think? Besides, it's kinda fun having our little secret."

I had to admit, there was something exhilarating about sneaking around like a couple of teenagers with a forbidden romance. It made our bond feel even more special, like we were part of some exclusive club that no one else could join.

Of course, playing our parts as bitter rivals wasn't always easy. We'd exchange playful jabs during interviews, throwing in a few subtle digs to keep up the facade of animosity.

"Y/N, what do you have to say to Jack Hughes, who claims he's going to outshine you on the ice tonight?" a reporter asked during a post-game press conference.

I shot Jack a knowing smirk before turning back to the camera with a smirk of my own. "Tell him he can try, but he's gonna have to get past me first."

Jack laughed from his seat beside me, the tension in the room dissipating as we shared a private joke

As much as we excelled at maintaining the illusion of rivalry in public, it was behind closed doors where our friendship truly flourished. Away from the prying eyes of the media and the expectations of our teams, Jack and I could be ourselves without reservation. We'd spend hours talking about everything and nothing, sharing our hopes and fears, our triumphs and struggles.

There was a comfort in knowing that we could let our guard down around each other, free from the pressures of being seen as rivals. In those moments, it was easy to forget about the intensity of the rivalry and just enjoy each other's company. Whether we were binge-watching our favorite TV shows, cooking dinner together, or simply lounging around, every moment spent with Jack felt like a welcome reprieve from the chaos of our professional lives.

And yet, even as we reveled in our friendship, there was always an underlying tension – the knowledge that our bond had to remain a secret. It was a constant balancing act, navigating the delicate line between friendship and rivalry, always mindful of the consequences if our true relationship were to be revealed.

But despite the risks, our friendship only grew stronger with each passing day. We became each other's confidants, sharing our deepest thoughts and feelings with a level of trust and understanding that went beyond words. And as much as we cherished our time together off the ice, there was something uniquely special about the moments we shared on it.

On game days, when the arena was buzzing with excitement and anticipation, Jack and I would find ourselves locked in a silent battle of wills. We'd exchange knowing glances across the ice, each one a silent reminder of the bond we shared. And when the puck dropped and the game was underway, it was like we were playing our own private game within the game – a subtle dance of friendship disguised as rivalry.

But no matter how convincing our performance was for the outside world, there were moments when our true feelings would slip through the cracks. A shared smile after a particularly well-executed play, a quick pat on the back after a hard-fought battle – these were the moments when our friendship shone brightest, illuminating the darkness of the rivalry that surrounded us.

The locker room is quiet, the only sound the faint echo of distant celebrations filtering through the walls. I sit alone on the bench, still basking in the afterglow of our victory over the Devils. It had been a hard-fought battle, but in the end, we'd come out on top, securing another win for the Rangers.

I'm lost in my thoughts when I hear the door creak open, and I glance up to see Jack standing in the doorway, a hesitant smile playing at the corners of his lips. Everyone else has already left, leaving us alone in the quiet solitude of the locker room.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey," I reply, returning his smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be with your team."

Jack shrugs, taking a few cautious steps into the room. "I needed to talk to you."

My curiosity piqued, I gesture for him to take a seat beside me on the bench. "What's on your mind?"

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering uncertainly as if searching for the right words. And then, in one swift motion, he crosses the distance between us and takes my face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips against mine.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as the world falls away around us. I'm too stunned to react, too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions coursing through me. But as his kiss deepens, I find myself melting into his embrace, the weight of our shared secret finally lifting from my shoulders.

When we finally pull apart, our breaths coming in ragged gasps, I meet Jack's gaze with a mixture of surprise and longing. "I didn't know you felt that way," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

Jack smiles, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "I've been trying to tell you for months," he admits, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my cheek. "But I never had the courage until now."

I reach out to take his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together with a sense of newfound clarity. "I'm glad you did," I say softly, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Because I feel the same way."

As the seasons passed, Jack and I found ourselves navigating the complexities of our newfound relationship with a sense of cautious optimism. We were no longer just friends who shared a secret bond; we were now a couple, bound together by love and mutual respect.

But as much as we reveled in our newfound happiness, we couldn't escape the ever-present shadow of the rivalry that loomed over us. Our teams, our fans, and the media all seemed determined to keep us apart, to maintain the facade of animosity that had defined our relationship for so long.

We knew that our relationship had to remain a secret, at least for the time being. Our PR managers had made that abundantly clear, reminding us constantly of the consequences if our true feelings were ever to be revealed. And so, we continued to play our parts, keeping our love hidden behind a carefully constructed facade of rivalry and competition.

But as the years passed and our relationship continued to flourish, it became increasingly difficult to keep our secret under wraps. We longed to share our love with the world, to finally break free from the constraints of the rivalry that had kept us apart for so long.

And then, one day, an opportunity presented itself that we couldn't ignore. Jack had been invited to a prestigious event, a gathering of the league's top players and executives, and he had been given the chance to bring a guest as his plus one.

As we stood outside the doors of the grand ballroom, Jack turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nodded, my heart pounding in anticipation. "I'm ready," I replied, squeezing his hand tightly in mine.

And with that, we stepped inside, hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As we made our way through the crowd, heads turned and whispers followed in our wake. But Jack didn't seem to notice, too caught up in the moment to care about the opinions of others.

And then, when we reached the center of the room, Jack turned to me with a smile that lit up his entire face. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice ringing out clear and confident. "I'd like you to meet someone very special to me. This is Y/N, and she's been my girlfriend for years. Didn't you know?"

The room fell silent, the air thick with shock and surprise. But as I looked around at the stunned faces of our peers, I felt a sense of liberation wash over me. We had finally broken free from the shackles of the rivalry, and nothing – not even the expectations of others – could hold us back any longer.

As Jack wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close, I knew that our love was stronger than any rivalry, stronger than any obstacle that stood in our way. And as we danced together in the center of the room, surrounded by the whispers of our peers and the glow of the evening lights, I knew that we were finally free to be ourselves – together, forever.

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