#what are you doing dad why are you walking like that
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Chubby MC: ...
Jade's and Vivienne's parents: *came to visit them*
Chubby MC: ...
Chubby MC: Couldn't you have chosen a different place to do your marriage talks?
Jade's dad: All of you are here, so why bother?
Vivienne's dad: I agree.
Chubby MC: Okay. I guess I can be a witness.
Jade's mom and Vivienne's mom: *chuckles*
Chubby MC: ...
Chubby MC: What's funny?
Vivienne's mom: It's just that... you're part of this conversation, dear.
Jade's mom: Hasn't Jade informed you? Or at least Floyd?
Jade's dad: They were planning to keep it a secret.
Vivienne's dad: Yes. And you found out because of me.
Chubby MC: ...
Chubby MC: I need to drink coffee first.
Jade's mom: Could you make some for us too, dear?
Chubby MC: *is already walking to the kitchen* Yes, Auntie!
Vivienne's mom: I like mine sweet, please~!
Jade's dad: You've got wine?
Chubby MC: This is a poor house, uncle!
Jade's dad: I'll settle with beer then!
Vivienne's dad: ...
Vivienne's dad: I'll settle with water.
Chubby MC: I'm not that poor. What the fuck-
Chubby MC and the parents: *after having their fill*
Chubby MC: Okay. We can continue talking now.
Jade's dad: You are married to my son Jade.
Vivienne's dad: And you are married to my daughter Vivienne.
Chubby MC: ...
Chubby MC: Pardon?
Jade's mom: Dear, I know you have heard it clearly.
Vivienne's mom: We should go ahead to discuss the wedding.
Vivienne's mom: Formality is still needed after all.
Chubby MC: ...
Chubby MC: But I'm single.
Jade's dad: Not anymore.
Chubby MC: That doesn't make sense.
Jade's mom: It does. When you stop denying it. *smiles*
Chubby MC: ...
Azul: Will MC be okay?
Floyd: Haha~ Obviously not~.
Jade: Vivienne,
Jade: How could you?
Vivienne: At least it's not monogamy. *unbothered*
Azul: ...
Azul: *his phone started ringing aggressively*
Floyd: Are you not going to answer that, Azul~?
Azul: No.
Azul: I'll be dead if I do that.
#twisted wonderland#twst chubby mc#twst jade#twst oc vivienne#twst chubby mc x jade#twst chubby mc x vivienne#twst floyd#twst azul
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[12:07 pm]
(cw: f!reader, a child)
a/n: I’m officially out of ideas in my drafts for dad!nct prompts :(((
Who knew that feeding a baby mashed up food could be so difficult? Dad!Jaehyun certainly didn't. Not when he sat down to feed his daughter with a little tub of 'vegetable beef,' but he figured he got the idea when she spit that out all over the high chair, down her bib, and on her dad's face.
She laughed as his face went from one of shock to a deadpan, unamused look. He quickly wiped his face and changed her bib. "So we're not a fan of this one, huh? Let's try peas," he said, more to himself than the baby girl in the chair who was learning to process one syllable words.
"Here comes the airplane," Jaehyun smiled animatedly, feeling quite proud when his daughter opened her mouth excitedly. Very quickly though her face fell into a sad frown, almost like a look of betrayal flashed through her eyes and Jaehyun knew what was coming next. He set the tub of baby food down and used his hands to protect his face from the green, mashed up peas spat toward him.
He sighed when he felt the wetness on his hands and looked up, as if asking why this was happening. You never had these problems when you fed your daughter. She would happily eat whatever you were feeding her with a smile. It didn't matter if it was blended up baby food in a spoon, in the pouch, the puffs, or even teething crackers. What did his baby girl have against him?
He tried again, the airplane sounds leaving his mouth only to be met with the sight of her turning away from him with her mouth clenched shut. He groaned, setting the food and the spoon down on the tray, "stay here, I'm getting your mom."
His little girl sent him a look of confusion before he quickly went to your bedroom where you were finishing up folding a load of laundry. "Well, well, well, it sounds to me like you've come to give up," you smiled smugly.
"She doesn't eat! She spit peas in my face and I can feel it in my hair! Please, just go feed her!" Jaehyun whined.
You smiled victoriously, beginning you walk down the hall, "I told you. It's a very delicate process to feed your princess. You have to- oh my god!"
Jaehyun's jaw dropped at the mess in front of him. Green was everywhere. It covered the high chair, reached the dinner table and the cabinets, and worst of all it covered your daughter from head to toe. The closer he got he could see she had rubbed it into her hair, which you had already struggled to do, and was caked all over her last clean onesie.
"How did this happen?" You wondered aloud, tiptoeing over the mess on the floor to get a sponge and roll of paper towels.
Jaehyun took a second to think and then a vivid memory of him leaving the food on the tray, within his daughter's reach flashed into his mind, "I uh, I think that was my fault. In my defense, I didn't think I'd even be gone long enough for her to make a mess!"
"And look where your thinking got you," you huffed, wiping up the mess on the floor.
Jaehyun's eyes left you and focused on his baby girl seated in her seat. She was watching you intensely and- she was eating the peas of her hands! This was a major win for Jaehyun-but he wouldn't tell you that.
#kpop imagines#kpop au#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#nct#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct timestamps#nct x reader#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun scenarios#jaehyun drabbles#jaehyun timestamps#dad!nct
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The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 7
Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.
Chap 1, Chap 2 , Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7 ,-
Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻
Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️
Victoria wanted to scratch your face with her long nails and pull your hair. She put down her wine glass and stormed toward you, her heels clicking angrily against the floor.
How dare you take her place?
Even as Bucky's official fiancée, she never had the chance to hold him like that. He always pushed her away.
But you… She hated the fact that you were able to stand beside Bucky like that.
Her eyes burned with fury as she approached, her hands clenched into fists.
What did you do to make Bucky look at you like... like he's in love with you? How he looks at you is so different from how he looks at her—as if she's not essential to him.
Victoria could feel the coldness from him but with you? She could sense the warmth in Bucky's gaze toward you, even from afar.
"Wasn't Bucky's fiancée Victoria?" one guest whispered.
"Shhh," another guest hushed her friend.
The judging eyes of the guests felt like needles pricking her skin. She didn’t have to look at them to feel their scrutiny.
Victoria's face contorted with barely suppressed rage with every step closer to you. Her hands shook, her nails biting into her palms as she struggled to maintain her composure.
"Don't do anything," her mom said, grabbing Victoria's hand.
Victoria whispered angrily, "Why?" What reason could her mom have for stopping her?
Genevieve didn’t say anything, just tilted her head slightly toward Jonathan. He was also watching Bucky and you, but his expression was calm, unlike the two women’s.
That means he knew. He knew you were coming.
Victoria stormed over to her dad despite Genevieve's attempt to stop her.
"Why is my fiancé walking with her?" she demanded in a harsh whisper.
Jonathan looked at his younger daughter, who was already panicking because things weren’t going her way. He sighed his expression a mix of frustration and patience.
“Victoria, calm down,” he said firmly. “There’s a reason for this, and it’s not what you think. Bucky has his reasons, and you need to trust the process.”
Victoria's eyes narrowed, her breath quickening. She glanced back at you and Bucky, the fire in her eyes intensifying.
"Trust the process?" she hissed. "This is humiliating. Do you have any idea how this looks?"
Jonathan's gaze hardened. "This isn’t about looks, Victoria. It's about something much more important."
Genevieve, still holding Victoria’s arm, squeezed gently. “Listen to your father,” she urged. “We’ll handle this, but not here and not like this.”
Victoria clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to regain control. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
He sighed inwardly. What was wrong with his kin? None of them had inherited his calmness. Jonathan was a heartless man, and he embraced it. His lack of empathy was the reason the company thrived.
Not wanting to embarrass herself, Genevieve said, "This will ruin our business with the Barnes family."
Jonathan smirked. Failure was not in his vocabulary.
"Did you forget why the Barneses agreed to give their only son to us?" he asked, his tone icy.
Genevieve fell silent.
Victoria, who had just overheard this, looked confused and concerned. "Mom, what is Dad talking about?"
Genevieve hesitated, searching for the right words to explain. She wanted to protect her daughter from the harsh truths.
Flashback Start
After Genevieve suggested the idea of an engagement between both families, Jonathan initially thought it would be impossible. It wasn't a bad idea, but the Barneses were like royalty in the business world.
He didn't expect Bucky's father to agree. However, there was a condition: “If my son has second thoughts before the marriage, he can end the relationship.”
That was the truth of the engagement. Jonathan had told Genevieve to remind Victoria not to get too attached to Bucky.
He had prepared for the possibility that Bucky might want to end the engagement. Even though Jonathan was a cold father, he saw at the engagement party that there was no spark between Bucky and Victoria.
But he never thought Bucky would come to him and ask for you.
His first daughter was wild and always going berserk. How in the world could Bucky be interested in you?
Nonetheless, Bucky still chose someone from the Sinclair family.
Flashback End
Victoria fumed. "Outrageous. This is adultery."
Jonathan sipped his wine calmly. "There's nothing between you and him. Even a blind person could feel it."
"But..." She couldn't deny it.
Genevieve interjected, "Bucky is supposed to be with Victoria." Her plan was for Victoria to marry Bucky. She wanted her daughter to have the best. But you have ruined everything.
"Silence," Jonathan commanded.
That single word from his mouth silenced both women. They could see the unyielding determination in his eyes.
"It doesn't matter as long as he's with someone from our family. Don’t forget, she is still my daughter," he said, giving a warning look to his wife. His voice was low and firm, leaving no room for argument.
He knew everything she did to you. He didn't help you because you told him you didn't want anything from him, so he obliged.
The way you despised him also made him ignore you more.
But now, seeing you and Bucky together, he knew he had to give you more attention.
Genevieve went pale because this meant that Jonathan had acknowledged your position.
The three of them went silent.
In contrast, your heartbeat was racing because everyone's eyes were on you.
You gripped Bucky's arm tighter. “I don't fit in here.”
Bucky felt it too. He gently patted your hand and said, “Don't worry. It's time for you to claim back what's yours.”
He was right. You used to dream of this moment. It seemed impossible, but now you're here because of Bucky.
You got this!
Author Note: I learned it too late that I made Bucky's mothers name is the same as the reader's grandma. Lol. 😂 So, I changed Bucky's mother's name to Juliana, while the name Cassandra belongs to the reader's grandma.
Taglist:
@thezombieprostitute
@thetravelingtyper
@scott-loki-barnes
@mostlymarvelgirl
@chemtrails-club
@dexter99
@seresingirlie
@missvelvetsstuff
@kjah97
@tfatwsoldir
@itsteambarnes
@toldyouitwasamelodrama
@sapphirebarnes
@thedonswife13
@angelbabyyy99
@cjand10
@esposadomd
@buckitostan
@wh0reforbucknasty
@bada-lee-ily
@evie-119
@mrsstuckyboo
@ghalouha
@iamasimpingh0e
@loki-laufeyson68
Author Note: Hey friends,
If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.
Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.
Only if you feel like it!
Here's the link: Ko-fi
Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes au#james bucky buchanan barnes#buckybarnes#james bucky barnes#rich!bucky#ceo!bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#sebastian stan character
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Joost Klein x OC!single mom
Chapter 1
Warnings: divorce mentioned, smut in later chapters.
This is just for fun, don't take too seriously.
Chapter 2
I scroll through Joost's Instagram realising I don't actually know anything about him.
A DM from the man I am currently stalking pops up at the top of my screen.
Hi
So, a singer, huh?
Surprised?
Honestly yes. Thought you would be a builder with such a strong back.
Still can't believe I almost knocked someone out just by standing.
Well, I did most of the work.
Joost Klein sent a post by ria3.jpg
ria3.jpg endless walks
Where was this taken? he asks.
I was visiting a friend and we would go on these long walks to catch up on everything.
He types, but then stops. Types and stops again.
Come for a run with me tomorrow morning?
Oh.
Define morning..
Like 8am? It will be more of a light jog, just something to start a day with a clear head.
I have to be back by noon.
Deal. Meet me next to the same coffee shop tomorrow 8am.
I put on my comfortable sneakers preparing for "a run" and head out. I am excited to see Joost again. Yesterday we spent a few hours sending each other's posts asking questions, sharing stories. I was complimenting his every outfit. It's been a while since I met a new friend, I don't usually have a lot of free time to maintain a new relationship.
Elliot is coming back today from staying at Nicholas' place. I thought I would have a relaxing time, which turned out to be a complete opposite. I miss Elliot too much and can't think of what to do with myself without him. Can't wait to hear about all the fun things he was up to, for his young age he is an incredible storyteller.
"There you are." a voice which already became familiar calls out. Joost is wearing a hat, black red hot chili peppers t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I can't fail to notice how much I like the shirt clinging to his body.
"Nice to see you early bird. So, where are we heading?" I block the sun shining in my eyes with my hand.
"I've been running every day since I arrived here, I already know a few good routes. Let's go." He waves a hand motioning for me to follow.
He leads, I follow.
"What thoughts are we running from?" I ask keeping up with him.
The corners of his mouth turn up into a slight smile. "It changes from day to day, just general anxiety I guess." He turns to look at me. "Do you not feel that way?"
"I do." I confess. "My way of coping is less active though - I journal." It is so easy to share things with him. It feels like he truly cares.
We continue running talking about what we did last week, he shares that he is here to write a song. We talk about music and his career, while pointing out various beautiful views. He stops a few times to snap photos.
"Stay like this. Looks really good." he points his phone at me. "You can capture this one endless runs." I laugh and he takes a photo. He puts his phone back in the pocket.
"Did it turn out good?" I ask.
"There is no way it didn't." He looks at me squinting from the bright sun.
"Because you are such a talented photographer?"
"Sure. Because of that." he smirks and continues walking.
"What are your plans for today? You said you have to be back by noon." he asks as I catch up to walk by his side, our arms slightly touching. I pull back.
"I have to get back home, my son is coming back from staying with his dad for the weekend." I say.
"How old is he? Your son."
"Recently turned 6."
He turns to look at me and smiles, continues walking forward.
"What?" I ask.
"Still can't believe you are someone's mom."
"Why? How do you imagine a mom?"
"I don't know." he looks forward. Silent for a moment. "Are you one of those milfs everyone keeps talking about?"
I push at his arm immediately getting an ick at what he said. "What the fuck dude" He bursts out laughing. I laugh too.
"Can't believe you just said that. What is wrong with you." I push him again, his arm feels tense under my touch.
He fixes his hat, turning to look straight ahead. "Sorry, it just slipped out." He smirks. I shake my head and laugh.
We continue our run.
"Thank you for agreeing to join me." Joost says as we come back to where we started.
"You are welcome. I had more fun than I expected." I say taking out a bottle of water.
"It was actually the first time I invited someone. I usually prefer to spend the morning alone." he says smoothing out the hem of his t-shirt.
"Oh." I look up at him. "An honor to be your first companion." I smile at him.
"Yeah so, head is cleared. I need to take a shower and head back to the studio." He takes off his hat to run a hand through his hair. It looks incredibly soft. I catch myself imagining how it would feel to touch.
I shake my head. The run did the opposite of clearing my head.
"When can I see you next?" he asks.
"I am not sure yet. I'm gonna be spending some time with Elliot."
"Sure." he smiles and pauses. "I have a concert coming up later this week. I can get you tickets, if you will find time for it."
"I will let you know." I return his smile.
"Hope you do." he stretches out his hand for me to shake like last time. I take it. His hand is firm to the touch and so pleasingly warm. After a moment we pull apart and go our separate ways.
I spent the last couple of days with Elliot. We played video games, went to the park for a picnic eating ice cream and laughing at each other's remarks about the movie we watched earlier. He truly is my best friend. I am so happy he turned out the way he did. I was worried me and Nicholas separating would affect him negatively, which I do notice some signs of, but me and Nicholas keep it friendly and keep him out of our differences.
As I get into my bed, I realise it has been radio silent between me and Joost after our run. To be honest he has been the first one to start the conversation the last time, I need to put in the effort too.
How have you been? I type.
No...too formal. I delete it.
Hi.
No, that's boring.
Any progress in the studio?
I hit send. No need to overthink it.
As I wait for the reply, I decide to check out his music. I put on my earphones and turn on the first song on Spotify.
My phone chimes as I listen to the songs and read the lyrics.
Joost Klein
Actually yes. We finally recorded the chorus.
Joost Klein
What is new with you?
I open the DMs.
Glad to hear that!! ❤️
Just living my milf life, you know how it is.
LMAO
I'm actually pleasantly surprised to hear from you. Started to think I scared you away last time.
You would have to do a lot more to scare me.
Oh yeah?
I was just listening to your songs. I have to say I really like them. I was bopping my head along.
Some really serious topics hidden behind fun melodies. Feels strange to say I am getting to know you through your songs.
You could hear them live, you know? My offer still stands. It's on Friday.
I pause to think about it. Elliot will be with his dad again, I could go technically. Do I go alone?
Ok. One ticket please. How much do I owe you?
He read the message, but is taking his time to reply. I look at the typing bubbles appear and disappear.
Don't be silly, I already said I will get it for you. Tickets are now secured.
Good Night, Ria. Talk to you tomorrow.
Good night, Joost.
Chapter 3
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boston pride is today so here have an edited repost from when i walked in the parade last year
Steve is getting boring in his old age (forty-four, almost).
It was inevitable, he supposes when he looks back, and he likes being boring.
He likes the steady routine of the life he and Eddie (married for seven years, now) have built with their three daughters (four, seven, and nearly ten, a notion Steve is choosing to ignore because there’s no goddamn way Moe nearly has an entire decade under her belt already), and he doesn’t find himself making attempts to mix things up all that often.
Naturally, Eddie is the one to suggest they make the trip into Boston with their daughters for the annual Pride parade, and when he does, Steve isn’t automatically inclined to agree.
Look – Steve knows it’s important for kids to see the world and do new things and all that enriching shit, but maybe he still bears some of the scars from keeping a semi-feral pack of teenagers alive amidst the eldritch hellscape of their hometown, and it’s not like they don’t keep themselves entertained at home – Hazel had finally got the gist of Go-Fish not too long ago and that’s been a whole new ballgame Steve is perfectly content to continue exploring.
In the end, however, the logical side of him (and Eddie’s ever-persistent badgering) wins out, and come mid-June of 2011, they all make the drive into Boston to see the parade.
It doesn’t take Steve long at all to acknowledge that it was a good idea. He hadn’t been to Pride in many years (again – he’s boring in his old age), and he’d forgotten how much fun it is – a true celebration of love and happiness in the face of a lot of fucked up shit and all that. The parade’s pretty good too (definitely a few floats he hopes the girls are too distracted chasing after candy to notice and ask questions about later, but only time will tell), and so is the festival afterwards. It ends up being a really great time for all of them.
Of the whole day, though, Steve’s favorite part is the trip home, a drive that should have only been thirty minutes, but turns into nearly two hours with all the traffic on I-90.
The girls are still riding the sugar rush of an afternoon’s worth of lemonade and fried dough and candy thrown from parade floats (Hazel might be succumbing though, if Steve’s quick glances in the rear-view mirror at the way her eyes are drooping closed are anything to go off of), and it seems as if the day’s contagious joy had followed them into the car. Robbie and Moe have been asking a lot of questions – mostly chatter about what floats were everyone’s favorites and who got the best face paint until Moe, perceptive as she’s always been, hits them with, “What’s Pride for?”
Which turns into, “Why do people think it’s a bad thing?” and that becomes, “So how did you and Papa fall in love?” at which point Eddie, who’d been fielding their daughters' questions so Steve could keep his focus on the stop-and-go highway traffic, launches into a dramatic and involved retelling of how their relationship had begun nearly eighteen years ago.
“So I told him that I liked him and what do you think Papa said?” Eddie eventually asks as he approaches the end of the story.
“What?” the girls ask with eager smiles and wide eyes.
“Nothing,” Eddie says ruthlessly, a wicked grin on his face.
“Alright,” Steve cuts in over the laughter coming from the backseat, “Let’s not be dramatic. I said something...eventually, and it wasn’t even that long later – four hours tops.”
“That’s right,” Eddie concedes, “And then we all lived happily ever after and all that jazz.”
“Good,” Robbie says, “’Cos if you hadn’t, today wouldn’t happen.”
“Hate to break it to you, sweet pea,” Steve replies, “but I’m pretty sure Pride would still happen even if Dad and I weren’t there for it.”
“We wouldn’t be here," Moe corrects him, "All together.”
Steve blinks.
Jesus Christ, these kids are gonna be the death of him. Can’t drive the damn car if his eyes are misting over, can he?
“Yeah,” Eddie says as he reaches over to curve his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, “Yeah, bug, that’s true.”
And thanks goodness for that.
#it's a very sweet moment and then robbie hits them with “so am i gay because you're gay?”#and eddie has to be like “uhhhh no it's not like genetic or whatever”#eddie: also......you're adopted so that's not relevant either#and then they have to explain to hazel what being adopted means (again) and she cries about it (again)#liv's steddie dads verse#steddie#steddie dads#steve harrington#eddie munson
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The Fuck Up Chapter 4
Summary: Bucky fucked up. A few times. Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?
Warnings: language, smut, mentions of war, injury, pregnancy
Becca scoured the internet, trying to think of anything that could help her find Y/N. She searched local records and tried to find state records to see if her name would pop up anywhere. As she scrolled through her Pinterest one day she had an epiphany. She went to Y/N’s deactivated Pinterest page and looked at her username. It was a play on the nickname “honey” Bucky had given her and her favorite band. Becca started typing things in the search bar of her browser with that username or a mix of the two until a website popped up. It was a photography studio that looked like it had been started a few years ago, but its contents had picked up in the last ten months. Becca looked through the pictures then froze, gasping at one picture in particular.
It was a baby. A newborn baby with a full head of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes and Bucky’s nose. Becca stared at it, reading the short caption below it that just said: Avi. Becca looked for the contact information on the site and copied the email address. She made a new email under a different name and sent an email to the address asking about setting up a meeting to discuss pricing and ideas for a family portrait. She got a reply about twenty minutes later, and set up a meeting the following day.
Becca drove an hour away to the address the person gave her on the email. When she arrived she saw a small house that looked like one of the dream homes that Y/N had on her Pinterest and dream boards. She went up to the door, knocking firmly and waiting. She turned away from the door as she heard footsteps walking up to it on the other side, afraid of what she might see.
“Hello! You must be—” Becca whipped around to see Y/N standing there. Y/N gasped, her eyes widening and her body tensing. “Becca.”
“Y/N!” Becca cried and flung herself at her, hugging her tight. “We’ve been looking for you. Why did you…” she pulled away and held Y/N’s face, who looked like she was in shock. “I know what happened the night before Bucky left. He was such an idiot. But Mom and Dad and I have been worried sick wondering where you were. You’re family, you can’t just up and disappear—”
A baby cry came from inside the house, snapping Y/N out of her stupor and she closed her eyes as the crying continued. Becca froze at the sound. “Come in. I need to go get him,” Y/N instructed and turned back inside the house. Becca did as she said and walked in, closing the door behind her and looking around as Y/N moved to the side where a hallway led to some bedrooms. She went into one bedroom where Becca heard her speak softly. “Hey now, little man, what’s the problem?” Y/N came out just a few moments later holding a baby that must have been about a month old.
“You…you have a baby,” Becca said.
“Yes,” Y/N said as she walked past her to the kitchen on the other side of the house, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle.
“And it’s your baby?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s…a month old?”
“He will be in three days,” Y/N said, putting the bottle in the baby’s mouth, his little whimpers dying down as he ate.
“Is he…Bucky’s?” Becca finally asked, though already knowing the answer.
Y/N breathed deeply before looking back up at her. “Yes.” She walked over to Becca and moved so she could see him. “This is Avriel James Barnes. Avi for short.” She looked down at the baby and cooed at him. “This is your auntie Becca.”
Becca’s tears flowed freely as she held a finger out to Avi and caressed his soft, tiny hand. “Hey. Hey little guy,” she whispered. “He’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Y/N said, giving Becca a small smile.
They both sat on the couch in the living room. “Do you want to feed him?” Y/N asked.
“Yeah, can I?” Becca asked. Y/N nodded and moved Avi into her arms, helping her get into a position comfortable enough to hold him and feed him. Becca stared down at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” she whispered, sniffing hurriedly. “We would have helped you. We would have supported you.”
“I know,” Y/N said quietly, looking away. “I just…after he left without saying goodbye I couldn’t face anyone. I understand why he did it the way he did, I just couldn’t do it again. Writing the letters, doing the weekly family phone calls, waiting to hear if he’d made it another week. He promised me he was done, and he lied,” she stopped, fighting back the lump in her throat. “So I kept my distance from everybody. I needed a break. But then I started to feel off, and I realized we hadn’t been smart that night.” She laughed bitterly. “It was just so spur of the moment, we weren’t thinking. I got tested and…here he is,” she gestured toward Avi.
Becca nodded. “I get it. But, we miss you,” she said, looking at Y/N pitifully. “Mom has been freaking out, Dad’s always looking so dejected. Bucky is beating himself up real bad about how he handled it. And I’ve missed my friend. I don’t expect you to come home but…”
Y/N sniffed as a few tears of her own fell. She wiped them quickly. “He fucked up. I fucked up. It’s all just a really fucked up situation,” she chuckled. “I planned on telling him, but I didn’t want to distract him while he was out there.”
“Can I tell everyone?” Becca asked as Avi finished the bottle. She pulled him up to burp him as she looked pleadingly at Y/N. “Just to put their minds at ease.”
Y/N looked hesitant but nodded. “Yes please. And depending on how he reacts, you can give Bucky my information and he can reach out when he’s ready.”
Becca smiled wide, nodding enthusiastically.
“I found her,” Becca announced later that night.
“Y/N?” George asked, Winifred gasping and Bucky standing up from the couch.
“Where is she? Is she okay?” Bucky asked, his eyes widening as he walked toward her.
“Buck, sit down and let me explain,” she instructed. He frowned but sat back down and waited. Becca sat across from them all and took a deep breath. “She’s fine. After you left she said she needed a break. She was upset and just needed some time, and moved about an hour away from here. Then she found out that she was pregnant.”
Bucky felt like he was going to throw up. He thought back to their night together and realized that they hadn’t protected themselves. It had all been so unplanned, so passionate, that it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He let out a shuddered breath as he felt his mind short circuit. Winifred and George were speechless next to him.
“She gave birth about a month ago,” Becca said, watching Bucky intently. Bucky looked back at her, his eyes filling with unshed tears. “It’s a boy,” she said, looking at him with a small smile on her face. “She named him Avriel. Avi for short.”
Bucky broke down, his tears spilling over as he hung his head in his hands. Winifred held him, whispering soothing words to him as George reached over and put a hand on his knee. Becca moved toward him, kneeling in front of him. “She didn’t tell anyone because she wanted to handle it, she didn’t want to be a burden, and she didn’t want to distract you while you were out there.” Bucky shook his head, crying harder thinking of the fact that Y/N had been alone the whole time, going through a pregnancy and then giving birth by herself with no one there to help or support her. “He’s beautiful, Buck. Look,” Becca pulled out her phone and held up a picture to him. Bucky and his parents gazed at the picture of the baby, curled up in Becca’s arms. He looked like a carbon copy of Bucky, and he took the phone from her and stared at the picture, a small smile lighting up his face.
“Y/N is still angry, but she wants to see you. She says you deserve to know and be a part of his life if you want. She wants all of us,” she looked at him and their parents, “to be a family again. But we need to take it slow and do this right.”
“Please,” Bucky said as his finger grazed the baby in the picture. “Tell me where they are.”
Becca gave him a small smile and took her phone back and texted him Y/N’s contact information. “Text her, don’t call, and see when you can come over.”
Bucky nodded as he received the text and stared at her name on the screen. He contacted her there and then, with his parents watching him:
Y/N? It’s Bucky. Can I please come see you?
He waited until three dots popped up.
Yes. Tomorrow at 3?
Ok. See you then.
#marvel#smut#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#series fanfic#chapter 4#buckywiththelonghair#soldier!bucky barnes#marine!bucky barnes
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𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
↳ notes: happy birthday to me! when this posts i'll officially be older, and celebrating by being cringe (writing this). i also love that picture of misha. it's him at my birthday party for real. he told me himself (lying)
↳ warnings: none!
↳ song: rock your body—justin timberlake
masterlist | commissions | carrd
• Special occasions like this are few and far between
• The Winchester family hadn't had a proper birthday in decades. While Dean clung to memories of gas station twinkies in replacement of a birthday cake, Sam remembered most of his birthdays with a sort of sad animosity. Up until walking out on his dad for Stanford and spending his birthday that year with Jessica, he hadn't had a single enjoyable birthday party. Maybe that was part of the reason he refused to let you feel the same way about your own birthday—even if none of you were kids anymore
• Worst case scenario, the world is ending again and you all have little time for delicacies. If that's the case, you'd get a quick pat on the shoulder from Dean, one excited bear hug from Sam, and very confused Cas wishing you the best of births before being told to continue packing the shotguns with salt rounds
• "With age comes responsibility, so keep loading those guns. Spider-Man said that."
• "For someone that watches so much trash tv, you know so little about media, Dean." You snorted at your friend, fingers nimmbly crushing salt into a line of rigid red shells before moving onto the next group
• "Shut up before I decide to give you your birthday noogies." He pointed a finger at you from across the room with a single raised eyebrow. Off to the side you saw Cas ask Dean what birthday noogies were not-so-quietly, and you struggled to hold back a laugh
• Even in the worst situations, they could always manage to make you smile
• Best case scenario, however, it's a free day. Nothing to do, no devils to fight, no ghouls to stop—nothing. Just you, the guys, and time on your hands that you all normally never have. So what better way to utilize it than with a little surprise party?
• Sam would be the most into the whole birthday party shtick. He'd insist that it was the least they could do for you after all the years on the hunt together, and even got Dean to budge after a few minutes of petty debating
• "It's stupid and cheesy, Sammy. We're grown adults. We've fought the devil beforr for christ's sake." Dean gave his brother the stink eye from his spot in the drivers seat. Groceries stores and Mom & Pop stores passed them by as they ventured into the nearest town, but neither of them paid attention to their blurred surroundings
• "Come on Dean." Sam twisted his torso and turned to face him fully. "Don't tell me you don't remember the look on their face last month when we brought them back a souvenir from our hunting trip in Alabama. You would have thought we brought them a new car. Besides, this is the one chance we've had in a while to actually celebrate something." Sam's eyebrows tilted up as he recalled the memory, shooting a knowing look at Dean's side-profile
• "So what? I say we just tell them happy birthday like a regular person and call it a day." Dean grumbled
• "Is that why you're driving in the nearest direction of the bakery here?"
• Dean didn't respond
• "That's what I thought."
• "Shut your pie-hole or I'm kicking you to the curb."
• Once the boys get back to whatever new place you all are holed up for that week, a couple of crinkled bags in hand, they call on Cas to help out with setting up whatever decorations Sam had forced Dean to throw in the cart
• Cas didn't take nearly as much convincing to partake in the setting up of festivities, but he certainly did need a lot of it explained
• "I thought angels were familiar with the concept of birthdays?" Dean asked at one point while watching Sam pull part of a cake out of the oven. His hand was slapped away when he went to grab at it, and he glared at his younger brother momentarily
• "We are." Castiel's gruff answer came shortly. "But we stopped keeping count after the first couple thousand years. And it was never done like—" He flicked the party hat atop his head curiously, "—this."
• "What did you guys do to celebrate?" Sam asked while popping the lid to a can of store bough frosting open
• "Pray."
• "Naturally." Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically. A blanket of silence fell over the room after that as Sam set out to frost the first part of the cake. Then—
• "Hey. How come none of you are wearing paper hats?"
• "Oh, trust me Cas. It'll mean a lot more to them if you were the one wearing it." Dean's grin was borderline evil as he looked at the angel
• It's safe to say that you laughed the hardest you had in a while once seeing Cas looking so hesitant in a mini cone hat
• Overall, it's the best birthday— the best day —that you've had in a long time
• You didn't need much, and as a hunter you'd come to expect almost nothing. But knowing that your friends— the short tempered, college dropout, otherworldly friends that they were —took it upon themselves to set all this up for you was the emotional equivalent to a punch in the gut. A lovely emotional punch in the gut
• "If you start crying, I'll leave." Dean snapped at you when you eventuallyvoiced how much this meant to you. But the threat was empty, and you all knew it
• Sometime during the party, you had managed to wrestle a paper hat of his own onto his head, and how it sat on the side of his head like a crooked unicorn horn. Occasionally he'd reach for it as if to take it off, then lower his hand with a small smile
• "Shut the fuck up and give me a group hug, Dean." You grinned with teeth, gesturing at him to stand up
• "Wait, no, I take it back that's worse."
• "I will kill you, Winchester. I swear I'll do it."
• You ended up getting your group hug that day, even if it took Castiel trapping Dean between you and him to get him to stand still
• "I hate it here." He griped with a groan. Sam could only laugh as be watched his brother struggle in Cas's iron grip, and said angel was smiling a bit to himself. You felt your heart swell; even if the look on Dean's face was downright murderous
• "Smile or I'm egging Baby on my birthday night." You said before setting the camera's timer and holding it up above you all
• "You wouldn't—"
• "Watch me."
• All four of you have your own copy of the photo from that night, kept in your seperate pockets and bedside table drawers. To this day you find yourself smiling when you look at it, and even if you'd never know it, so do they
#supernatural#supernatural x reader#supernatural x you#supernatural x y/n#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x y/n#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester x y/n#castiel#castiel x reader#castiel x you#castiel x y/n#x reader#headcanons#fluff
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Fight ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets
Summary: You get into a fight at school, your brothers find out and aren't happy, until you tell them the reason.
Warnings: Fighting, violence, drama, bullying, name calling, shouting, sorry to all the Jenna's, angst with a happy ending.
~~~~~~~~~~
You didn't mind school that much. Sometimes it was hard, especially with your brothers' fans. You had a few friends who were real with you and didn't care who your brothers were, however, many tried to be your friends due to you having famous brothers.
However, today was a rough day. Your maths teacher was being a right bitch, your best friend was off sick so you couldn't talk to them and your hockey practise had been cancelled, which was one of your favourite things about school. You were planning on just going home at this point, already about to cry. That was until you saw Jenna at your locker, her little posse laughing as they crowd around her.
Jenna was your worst enemy. She wasn't a fan of your brothers, which you were quite grateful for, but she took that as an invite to hate you, which you gladly returned.
"What the fuck are you doing around my locker." You called, walking over.
"Oh, just a bit of, redecorating." Jenna said with a smirk.
She moved out of the way and you saw writing all over your locker. Lots of hateful words and names. Slut. Clout chaser. Dumbass. Many more. Which made your blood boil.
"What you gonna do, go cry to your brothers. They don't give a fuck about you, that's why they left when they could." She said laughing.
"Fuck you." You spat.
"Aww is the little baby gonna cry~" She teased.
"I've had enough with your shit, Jenna! Don't have to like my brothers I don't like you! But you don't have to a fucking asshole!" You shouted.
"Your just an attention seeking whore." She called. Which was the last straw.
You threw your bag down and shoved Jenna into the lockers. She screamed as you punched her in the face and then pushed her to the ground. She tried to defend herself, getting a few punches and scratches here, but you were stronger, you grew up with four older brothers after all. You didn't stop, seeing the blood pour from her nose and lips, until you were pulled off by a teacher.
"Principles office now!" They shouted.
You sighed and grabbed your bag, ignoring the blood on your face from Jenna's nails scratching you.
"Your being suspended for two weeks. You can't go around causing fights. This is your third one." The principle said.
"She fucked up my locker and said shit to me and about my brothers!" You screamed.
"You threw the first punch." He responded.
"Take the two weeks, we'll have you back and you'll still be on the hockey team." He added.
You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off.
"Argue with me and you'll be benched for the season." He said.
You sighed and slumped down in your chair, watching as he rang home. Nick, Matt and Chris were home in Boston for a while, but you thought they might be hanging out with Nate. So you expected your mum or dad to answer the call. You listened to your principle explain that you needed picking up about a fight. You looked at your shoes until he hung up the phone.
"Your brothers are coming, I will have a talk with Nick." He told you.
Shit you thought. You knew they would probably be mad, but you knew your mum would be upset as it was your third one.
"When you come back after your two weeks, your on thin ice. One more fight will lead to being expelled and off the team." He said.
You sighed again and sat quietly. About twenty minutes later, Nick walked in. You saw he wasn't happy. The principle explained the fight and your punishment before you were allowed to leave. Nick placed a hand on your shoulder as he led you to the car, where Chris and Matt were waiting.
"We'll talk once we get home." He said, his voice scarily calm.
You got in the car, both Chris and Matt gave you a look of disappointment before Matt drove home. It was a quiet ride home.
When you parked up and headed inside, Matt made you sit at the kitchen island as Chris grabbed a first aid kit, ready to clean up your scratches.
"It might hurt." Chris mumbled as he cleaned up the open wounds.
You stayed still, not wanting to make them more angry as he cleaned them up, the blood now removed from your face.
"What the fuck happened?" Matt asked, running a hand through his hair.
You started to explain what happened, from your bad day, to Jenna pissing you off. You were about to explain how she said shit about you and about them, but Nick cut you off.
"You can't go around starting fights just because someone doesn't like us!" He shouted.
"She said shit about me! Wrote stuff on my locker! Said shit about you! I wasn't going to let that slide, Nick!" You shouted back.
"You were defending us." Chris replied.
"Yeah, so what she doesn't like you. But it doesn't give her the right to say shit about you." You responded.
Your brothers fell quiet as you held your head in your hands. A few tears slipping down your cheeks.
"Mum and dad are gonna be so mad." You mumbled.
"I mean....we're not happy, but we get it." Matt said gently.
"It's my third fight." You admitted.
"What?" Nick called.
"Principle said if it happens again I'll be off the hockey team. Mum said if I had another fight I'd not go with you to LA this summer." You answered.
"We'll talk to mum and dad, okay. But what you need to do is find a way to release this anger in a different way. People don't like us, that's fine, we don't care. We have real fans and one is right in front of us. That's all that matters to us and your safety. You can't lose hockey, that's your safe place. But if this Jenna is a real problem, then we need to have a meeting with her parents too." Matt said.
"I'm sorry." You apologised.
"We understand why you did it. It's not the right thing, but we get it. So we can't be fully mad. Plus your not that injured so we taught you well." Chris said with a cheeky grin.
You smiled a bit as you looked at them, the three of them hugging you tightly.
"Well....I now have two weeks off school, so what should we do?" You asked with a small laugh.
"Your most probably grounded, kid. Don't push your luck." Nick answered.
You sighed as they laughed, but you knew they were right. You were just happy they didn't get really mad.
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo triplets oneshot#sturniolo triplets fanfic#sturniolo triplets x reader#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo oneshot#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo oneshot#nick sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#brothers!triplets#sister!reader#younger sister#fight#drama#high school#angst#fluff#angst with a happy ending
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Summertime wuth Joel as DBF!?!?! Yes please two of my absolute favorite things. Which I guess isn't an ask just a "yessssss" that you have that in your brain!
I'm so glad its a yesssssssssssssss. I wish I could stop writing Joel Miller, I really do, but the muses deny this request at every turn . . . So here's a snippet:
The sun bleached boards creak under your feet as you walk to the edge of the deck, eyes scanning the fairly calm waterfront. In the light of day you can really see how gorgeous a location this is.
A thirty second walk to touch the waves, a private dock with a kayak perched on the end of it. It's fairly idyllic, and quiet this time of morning. The nearest home is quite a bit away, separated by greenery and trees. You guess that the beach is public property for everyone.
You consider walking down to the dock when movement in the water stops you.
Broad shoulders and golden arms slice through the water ahead of you. The figure moves fluidly, so quickly he could be propelled. You can't help but be transfixed as the man moves, his back muscles rippling beautifully as he nears the shore. He stands when it's shallow enough to do so and wades towards the shoreline.
His biceps swell as he pushes the wet curls from his face and you feel your breath leave you.
It's Joel Miller.
He's clad in only a pair of swim trunks that cling obscenely against his body. Water beads and drips down him, his hair pushed back and curling at the ears.
You feel a familiar tug below your navel and are embarrassed to realize that your thighs are pressed tightly together as you devour him with your gaze.
Broad shoulders, trim waist, arms that curl into deliciously perfect biceps. The kind of hands that would-
Enough of that! He's almost fifty.
He's your dad's college friend.
What the fuck are you thinking?
You watch as he leans over to grab his towel from where it lays in a heap on the dock and hold in a sigh when the damp swim shorts strain over his muscled thighs in the process.
"I need to get laid," you murmur.
"You sure fuckin' do."
You spin around to see Dylan leaning against the counter watching you with a knowing smirk. He's wearing his pyjamas and has a serious case of bed-head. He gives an amused chuckle at your reddening face.
"You gonna hit up the retirement home next time you feel like a good fu-"
He runs back inside and ducks as you rush after him, grabbing a pillow from the couch and throwing it at his head.
I blame this exact moment in the series for stirring this entire story up in my pervy lil brain:
Why does he look so good wet?
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller#pedro pascal#dad joel miller#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#wip game
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˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗
Chapter Seven: You Are Going to Hate This
Kyle Broflovski x fem reader
Blackout and I need to sit and I wrote this, but it don't mean shit. Why can't I be like you? I miss you and I let you down and your voice is the perfect sound. Why can't I be so cool?
Premise: No one thought the school lock-in would go well, they just didn’t know poorly it would play out.
Warnings: mentions of blood and injury / mentions of disease / crude language and humour
MASTERLIST
There wasn't much you had been looking forward to about the school lock-in, the only thing that had slightly piqued your interest was competition. While various activities were being hosted in numerous classrooms, you were prepping yourself for the volleyball tournament in the gym.
A large sum of your friends were on the volleyball team and were also warming up. They had all paired up with each other and as you arrived at the school late, everyone already had a partner, leaving you with Andrew who was talking himself up but didn't have the skills to match.
"What's straight edge?" Annie asks from next to you where she spikes the ball across the net to Nichole, her eyebrows furrowing as she reads your shirt "You're not straight."
"No, it's like a punk movement from the eighties that was against drinking and smoking," You toss the ball high into the air and send it over the net with a satisfying smack. Andrew fumbles the return, the ball bouncing off his forearms and rolling away. He jogs after it, muttering an apology.
"So why are you wearing that?" She's even more confused at the answer. You were wearing a black loose T-shirt made of soft, high-quality cotton. The front of the shirt prominently features a bold white 'X' across the chest, above the 'X' where the words 'STRAIGHT EDGE' in bold lettering. The design includes a small graphic of a broken cigarette and an overturned bottle beneath the text. The back of the T-shirt has a minimalist design with the phrase 'LIVE CLEAN'. Anyone who knew you well had been casting you questioning glances.
"It's a thing for my dad's work, he asked if I could wear it and I said yeah," Your dad worked at a non-profit youth center and that week they were promoting drug abstinence. Weston was also given a t-shirt though he threw it at the back of his closet where it would never see the light again.
"But you aren't actually quitting smoking?"
"No, he was just so excited about it and I felt really bad because no one wanted to wear these goofy ass shirts." You serve the ball again, but Andrew misses the return once more, the ball sailing past him and thudding against the gym floor. A small knot of frustration begins to form in your chest.
"Oh my god, you're learning empathy," Annie turns her gaze back to Nichole, when the ball is headed for her, she braces her arms and bumps it perfectly back over the net.
Everyone else participating in the tournament seemed to have no issues with their partners while they practiced rallies. You take a deep breath and serve again, but this time the ball barely grazes his fingertips before hitting the ground. "Do something, bitch!" You throw your hands out, glaring at Andrew.
"Okay, never mind," Annie sucks a breath through her teeth, taking back the words she said just moments prior. She had been wearing her pink pyjama shorts with little daisies on them and a white tank top, curly hair pinned back into a French braid. Almost all of the students had arrived in their pyjamas which was the majority of some form of flannel pants and a t-shirt.
Despite your efforts to stay calm, Andrew's repeated fumbles and missed returns chip away at your composure. Each errant ball hits the gym floor with a dull thud, amplifying your growing irritation. "Andrew, get your balls in order."
"Jesus, it's not that easy," He tosses the ball up, smacking it in a feeble attempt. His hand lands on the top and sends the ball flying below the net.
"You're supposed to hit it over," You walk over to pick up the ball. Earlier when you had been looking for a partner Andrew couldn't stop talking about how good he was at volleyball but now that you were seeing him in action, you wanted to wrap your hands around his throat or maybe spike his head over the net instead of the ball.
The bandage over your nose was finally gone and the bruising was almost gone completely, all that was left was a little nick on your nose. Without the painkillers making you lethargic, you were back to being hostile.
He rolls the ball back over to you after missing another perfect serve. You move slowly to make sure he's ready for the next pass. You take a deep breath, focusing your energy on the perfect serve. You toss the ball high, your eyes following its arc. As it descends, you leap slightly, making contact with a resounding thud. The ball grazes over the net in a graceful, powerful trajectory, spinning slightly as it cuts through the air.
It's the kind of serve that you know is perfect the moment you hit it.
Instead of moving to meet the ball, Andrew freezes. His eyes widen in a moment of panic, his feet glued to the spot. The ball hurtles past him, as he shrugs away from it. You watch as the ball lands just past him with a thump. "I want a new partner, Andrew fucking sucks."
"Well, you aren't giving me much to work with here," He shoots back.
Slowly, your head turns to look at him "The only thing I would give you is a handful of antidepressants so no one else has to put up with your bitching," You say, pointedly "Get out of here."
"Eat shit and die," He stuck up his middle finger.
"Eat shit and live, Andrew," you returned the gesture, dropping the volleyball and hurryingly scattering to the whiteboard that held every pair's names. With your forearm, you wipe Andrew's name off and think of another replacement to fill the blank space. You glance around the gym seeing Stan on the bleachers and immediately mark down a name with the pink pen.
He was locked in on watching his girlfriend, he sat with Jimmy, the two chatting amongst themselves until you strolled up at record pace "Hi?"
"Hey," you smile, hands on your hips.
"W-what's with the sh-shi shirt?" Jimmy was the fifth person to question the straight-edge shirt laid over your torso.
"Where's Kyle?" You ask abruptly, ignoring the question.
"I'm pretty sure he's in Mr Dubois's classroom," Stan had been wearing thick grey sweatpants and a hoodie layered over a long sleeve despite the warm weather. You could only imagine he was suffocating under there "Why?"
"Thanks," You look towards the large digital clock mounted above the entrance of the gym, ten minutes until the tournament starts.
You sprint out of the gym, your footsteps echoing in the deserted hallway. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz softly as you race past the rows of lockers and closed classroom doors. You dart around a corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with a group of students heading toward the gym.
Pulling your phone from your pocket, you dig around for his number while rushing through the hallway.
New Message-Kyle Broflovski
You: Mf where r u??????????????
You: This is super urgent
You: Right hand to god
You: I'm gonna keel haul you
You read each number carved into the plaques on the doors, searching for room 116 where Mr Dubois taught French. In almost every room there was a different group of kids doing different activities, you pass the drama room where people are huddled up in the dark and watching movies.
The art room had of course been doing pottery and miscellaneous forms of art where everyone had their headphones stuck in their ears and didn't utter a word to anyone else in the room. There were always the kids bumming around in stairwells and corners, scrolling on their phones or hitting their vapes. There was an absurd lack of chaperones.
Finally, you reached classroom 116 where the door was decorated in prints of the French and Canadian flags as Mr. Dubois hailed from Quebec and would never let you hear the end of it if you asked.
Prying the door open, you were slightly taken aback by the sight. You had anticipated it would be a couple of guys sitting around and doing nothing in particular but you were met with the sight of six desks pushed together in the center of the class to form one table and eight guys pulled around it in chairs. They all had a plethora of sheets and colourful dice lying between them.
No one noticed you come in, they were deep in a game of Dungeons and Dragons and chatting amongst themselves. Butters noticed eyes on the back of his head and turned to face you, a smile on his face "Hey," He was one of the few people who turned up in a matching pyjama set, it was light blue and satin almost matching the stark paleness of his eyes "We already started but you can join if you want."
"No, she can't," Cartman countered immediately, he was taking the role of dungeon master. He turns his attention from Butters to you "You can't play."
"I don't wanna play your gay-ass game," You wrinkle your nose "Where's Kyle? Stan said he was in here."
Glancing around at the guys sitting down at the makeshift table, there wasn't even a lock of ginger hair in sight. "Oh, he went to the bathroom," Butters said "So you're not playing?"
"No, I'm not," You say, turning and leaving the door ajar behind you while you continue your way down the hallway once again.
For a beat you stand outside of the boy's bathroom and debate whether or not to enter, glancing around to make sure no one can see you. You rush into the bathroom, slipping through the door and immediately hearing the faint sound of music. You follow the noise, rounding the corner to find Kyle standing in front of the mirror, phone in hand, filming himself lipsyncing.
The very second you laid eyes on the scene before you, you erupted in laughter like a hyena. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she gasped for breath between fits of laughter. "What are you doing in here?" Kyle quickly turned his phone off, tucking it into his pocket while heat rose to his face.
"Are you making a thirst-" You couldn't even finish your sentence before breaking into giggles again. Still laughing uncontrollably, you stumbled backward, your legs giving way beneath you. You reached out instinctively, hand grasping the edge of the bathroom counter to steady yourself. Your body shook with laughter, and you leaned heavily against the counter, your face flushed and eyes sparkling with mirth.
"It's not that funny," Kyle said with a straight face.
Your hand moved to clutch your stomach where your ribs were beginning to hurt from laughing so hard, a single tear spilled from your eye. "Can I watch?" You say between chuckles.
"Fuck off," he muttered under his breath and moved to push past you.
You quickly straighten up, rushing to block the door "Woah, woah, woah."
"What do you want?"
"Let's just talk for a second," Slowly you put your hands out in front of you as carefully as a bullfighter would.
"You're in the boy's bathroom," He points out.
"What? Would you rather talk in the girls?" You retort and the annoyance is clear across his face as he reaches past you for the handle but you put your hands on his chest in an attempt to keep him away from it "Okay, sorry. My volleyball partner bailed last minute," You lied, trying to make yourself sound as convincing as possible "And the tournament starts in like, five minutes. Can you fill in?"
"No," His body language was slightly tense, his shoulders hunching forward as if trying to shrink away.
"What?" You sound genuinely shocked "Why?"
"Why would I want to play volleyball for two hours?"
"Because it's with me," You try for a sweet smile but it comes off insincere. You could tell Kyle wasn't buying it as his face remained unmoved and unimpressed "Okay, well, why would you want to play DnD for like eight hours?"
"Oh my god," He turns away from you, running one hand through curly locks while he does a small pace before stopping to face you once more. Kyle hadn't anticipated making a fool of himself in front of you "No."
"Please?" You clasp your hands together like it's going to do something.
"You're friends with everyone on the volleyball team, ask one of them."
"I did and they have partners and I already put your name down to play," you suck a sharp breath through your teeth.
"Just find someone else," He dismisses and you were suddenly wishing you had knocked and avoided embarrassing him entirely. Not only was he naturally athletic but part of you just wanted to be partners with him.
"I'm actually really sorry for laughing at you, I'm learning empathy."
"You don't learn empathy, it's something you're born with."
"I'm defying the norms," You say "I swear to god I will never laugh at you again. You're right, it wasn't even that funny just a little, not a lot."
"Christ," He mutters, one hand pinching his nose bridge.
"You're the only person I trust to actually give it a shot. Please, Kyle?"
Kyle presses his lips into a thin line, rubbing the back of his neck. You can see the gears turning in his head. All he does for a minute is look at you with narrowing eyes before he finally speaks again "Okay, sure."
"Thanks," You smile brightly, opening the bathroom door and ushering Kyle out.
"When does it start?"
"Like three minutes," You shrug.
The two of you pass the door of Mr. Dubois's classroom where Cartman glares at you and Kyle "Kyle, get back here." Cartman pushes himself from his chair "We're in the middle of a campaign!"
"I don't fucking care!" You call back. When you notice Kyle pauses for the briefest moment to look into the room, you grab his wrist and pull him along. He seems a little taken aback but doesn't argue as you drag him through the hall even though he's perfectly capable of finding the gym without contact with you.
"Oh my god," Cartman utters, sitting himself back in his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. "First we lost Stan, now Kyle."
"And Kenny," Butters adds.
"And Kinny," Cartman repeats in solidarity.
"Are you straight edge now?" Kyle furrows his eyebrows as he reads the back of your t-shirt.
"No. God, why does everyone keep asking that?"
"Maybe because you're wearing a straight-edge shirt." He states the obvious.
"Oh shit, yeah," you turn back to briefly to face Kyle and crack a small smile.
You step onto the polished gym floor, the bright lights overhead casting a warm glow that reflects off the glossy surface. The chatter and laughter of other students echoed through the room.
The second you were noticed you were met with odd glances like you were dragging a corpse behind you. Everyone was already beginning to take their places for the tournament or finding a spot on the bleachers "Shit, hurry up, Goliath."
"Goliath?" He narrows his eyes at you as you begin to walk away.
"Dude, just get over here,"
Stan quirks an eyebrow, watching the two of you settle in the center of a court while Coach Dawsey barks out the rules of the tournament. "Alright, everyone, listen up!" Coach Dawsey's voice booms across the gym through the crackly microphone, immediately silencing the chatter. "Before we get started, I want to make sure everyone understands the rules for tonight's lock-in volleyball tournament."
You glance over at Kyle, who's focused on trying to decode whatever Stan is mouthing to him, his eyebrows are drawn in. You nudge him lightly, and he straightens up, shaking his head at Stan and turning his attention to the coach.
"First and foremost," Coach continues, "This is a friendly competition. Sportsmanship is key. No trash-talking or unsportsmanlike conduct will be tolerated unless I can't hear it. Understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, Coach" echoes around the gym.
"Good. Each match will be played to ten points, win by two. We're using rally scoring, so a point is scored on every serve. You all know your positions, but remember to rotate clockwise after winning the serve."
Kyle nudges you back, whispering, "You got all that?"
You shoot him a look but can't suppress a small smile. Coach Thompson's eyes narrow in on the two of you, and you quickly return your attention to him.
"Communication is crucial," Coach emphasizes. "Call for the ball, and make sure you cover your zones. Stay alert and work as a team."
You nod, glancing around at your teammates. Their faces reflect a mixture of determination and nerves, but there's also a spark of excitement. You catch Kyle's eye again, and this time he gives you a serious nod, signalling that he's ready to contribute.
"Lastly," Coach Dawsey says, "Remember to have fun. This is about building teamwork and enjoying the game as well as winning, which is of the utmost importance. So erm, do your best out there."
With that, Coach blows the whistle, signalling the start of the tournament. Each of the four courts is split in two with two teams in each of the half courts. From the other side of the net Heather and Jenny stand, Jenny regards you with narrowed eyes "Isn't Andrew your partner?"
"What the fuck, no," You huff a laugh like the accusation was ridiculous. Jenny looks at the bracket scrawled across the whiteboard for confirmation.
The referee signals the start of the match, and the first serve comes sailing over the net from the opposing team. You spring into action, bumping the ball up to Kyle, who's already moving into position.
"Kyle, yours!" you shout, setting the ball perfectly.
Kyle leaps into the air, his form impeccable, and smashes the ball over the net. It hits the ground just inside the line, scoring the first point for your team. In truth, you hadn't expected him to be so good, the last time you played volleyball with him, you were on a family camping trip and in a continuous loop of trying to beat each other. You can't help but grin.
"Nice spike," you say as Kyle jogs back.
"Thanks, Captain," he replies, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
The game quickly turns intense. Heather and Jenny are good, but you and Kyle find a rhythm, communicating effectively and covering the court with dexterity. Kyle's spikes are powerful and precise, while your sets and saves keep the ball in play.
"Cover left!" you call as the ball comes over the net.
Kyle dives, saving it just before it hits the ground, and you quickly set it up for another attack. The back-and-forth rallies are exhilarating, each point hard-earned. Despite the competitive edge, there's a surprising synergy between you and Kyle.
As the score nears the winning point, tension mounts. It's 14-13, and you need one more point to secure the win. The opposing team serves, and the ball comes at you fast. You manage a perfect pass to Kyle.
"Yours!" you shout, adrenaline pumping.
Kyle takes to the air, his spike aimed with an almost lethal precision. The ball slams down on the opponent's side, untouched. The final point is yours. A few of your friends on the bleachers give you little cheers as the whistle blows, signalling the end of the match.
You turn to Kyle, breathless but elated. "Good shit, man."
"Thanks," He grins.
With the thrill of your first win still buzzing, you and Kyle barely have time to catch your breath before the second match is called. The gym seems even more charged now, the energy from the first game amplifying the anticipation for what's to come.
Coach Dawsey gives you both a thumbs-up from the sidelines as you step onto the court for your next match. This time, you were against Jason and Daniel. You knew Daniel was on the volleyball team, you had seen him a handful of times and he was good but you couldn't speak for Jason who seemed much more out of place than his friend. You glance at Kyle, who glances back at you.
"You good?" you ask, a competitive gleam in your eye.
Kyle gives you a little thumbs up, one hand resting on his hip. The two of you watch as your names are moved up the brackets on the whiteboard while Heather and Jenny's get erased.
The referee blows the whistle, and the game begins. The first serve from the opposing team rockets over the net. You move quickly, receiving the ball and passing it to Kyle. He leaps and spikes it down hard, but the other team manages a quick save, returning the ball with a strong hit.
"Got it!" you call, diving to keep the ball in play. You manage to pass it back to Kyle, who sets up for another spike. This time, the ball hits the ground just inside the line, scoring the first point for your team.
The match is fast-paced, the ball flying back and forth as both teams fight for dominance. You dig, set, and spike with precision, each point driving you a little more.
At one point, the score is tied at 8-8, and the tension is palpable. The opposing team serves, and you receive the ball, setting it perfectly for Kyle. He slams it over the net, but the other team is ready, sending it back with equal force.
You dive to save it, barely managing to keep it in play. "Kyle, heads up!" you shout, scrambling to your feet.
Kyle jumps, twisting in mid-air to adjust his spike. The ball flies over the net, too quickly for the opponents to react. It hits the floor. This was the part of Kyle that you admired, the competitive nature and the drive, on occasion the hot-headed insults even though you spat them right back at him.
As the match progresses, you both dig deep, pushing through the fatigue. The score inches up, point by point, each one harder to earn than the last. Daniel is relentless, but so are you and Kyle.
Finally, it's match point. The score is 14-13, and you have the serve. You take a deep breath, focusing on the target. The ball leaves your hand, sailing over the net. The opponents scramble to return it, but Kyle is already in position.
He jumps high, timing his spike perfectly. The ball slams into the floor on the other side of the net, and for a moment, there's stunned silence. You turn to Kyle, a huge grin on your face, almost vibrating with excitement.
For a brief moment, he catches himself smiling at you, the thought that an act as simple as hitting a ball over a net would make you so happy when he had seen you surrounded by everyone you've ever known with a cake in front of you and still frown.
"Got a couple more rounds in you?" You ask.
"What did you just say?"
When the match ended you had settled back into your separate groups on the bleachers and pretended that you weren't sneaking glances at his little group while you were looking at Wendy. What had really been grating you was that the doors of the school had been locked as per the name of the event, this meant that there wasn't anywhere to smoke without getting caught and you were increasingly growing desperate for that nicotine buzz, so much so that you had chewed you lip until the taste of iron flooded your mouth.
"You don't like Miles anymore?" Nichole looks towards Lola with furrowed eyebrows. Last week she wouldn't stop talking about him.
"What?" This was news to Annie "Why?"
Lola shrugs "Because he's weird, he's an asshole."
"What did he do?" Heidi asked. Everyone paid their full attention to Lola who seemed to squirm a little more with every pair of eyes on her.
"Nothing, he's just, I dunno- he's a dick."
You and Red share a look, this was code for Lola liked him a lot and he didn't return the feelings.
"Where did Wendy go?" You ask abruptly, noticing the disappearance of the girl and glancing around the gym for her.
Nellie sucks a sharp breath through her teeth, quickly looking to Lola for unspoken confirmation if she should say or not "She's with Bebe and Jenny."
"Oh, okay," You say and silence falls over the group, waiting for a bigger reaction. "I don't really care."
"It's okay," Annie nods and places a hand on your shoulder.
"Yeah, I know?"
"Yeah," Lola draws out slowly.
"Um," You brush Annie's gentle hand off and push yourself to your feet "I need to ask Kenny something, I'll be right back."
Feeling more awkward than you should've, you walked over to the group of boys enamoured in what was seemingly a deep discussion until you heard a snippet of the conversation "You're saying that if you could only eat one animal for the rest of your life it would be fish?" Kenny asks with quirked eyebrows and a slightly wrinkled nose.
"Yeah," Kyle says with a knit brow, not understanding why the boys seemed so disapproving.
"Dude, he said animal not sea creature," Cartman says bluntly.
"A fish is an animal."
"Don't start," Cartman's voice is accusatory, you can see him getting riled up already.
"I'm not starting, a fish is an animal," Kyle retorts.
"I'm talking animal-animal."
"And I'm saying fish-fish."
"That's like saying ant, that's not an animal." His face is flushed a stark contrast to the pale, blindingly bright lights overhead.
"Ants are animals, they're arthropods," Kyle's voice raises just the slightest.
Cartman huffs laugh "No they are not, fish and ants are not animals that's like saying bugs and insects are animals."
"Cartman, you are in AP biology," Tolkien throws in as a reminder.
"Yeah, that's how I know what I'm talking about."
"We are in the same class," Kyle says slowly to be sure that it sinks in.
"At least one of us was paying attention."
"A fish is an animal."
"Yeah alright buddy, you don't go to the zoo and see fish hanging around. There aren't zoo fishes."
"There's actually so many fish at zoos-
"There's fish zoos?" Cydle abruptly cuts him off, voice raising "You go to fish zoos?"
Kyle regains himself "There's so many fish at zoos that they have their own attraction called an aquarium."
Cartman shakes his head "Nope, not the same thing, that's for sharks and shit."
"Yeah, for fish."
"A shark is not a fish," Cartman starts laughing. "And an animal is something with paws and shit."
"Is a lizard an animal?"
"No, it's an insect."
"Jesus Christ," You mutter "Cartman, what's a reptile?"
"What's a human?" Cylde asks "Are we animals?
"They are literally classified as Cartilaginous fishes," Kyle ignore Cylde, his jaw is clenched tight and it's easy to tell that such an idiotic argument is grinding at his skull.
"Define fish," Cartman leans back and crosses his arms, waiting for the answer.
"You did not just say that," Kyle deadpans.
"Define fish," He says again.
"You define fish," Kyle almost spits with how fast he's speaking.
"Aquatic."
"Aquatic what?!”
"Aquatic creatures."
"So by your definition, fish are aquatic creatures but a shark isn't a fish?" Kyle asks. The vein in his forehead became so prominent you thought it might burst.
"Please tell me how a shark is a fish," Cartman tilts himself forward, closer to Kyle "Tell me what a fish is."
"They're aquatic vertebrate animals that have gills but lack limbs."
"So I was right."
"No, you aren't, lobsters are aquatic creatures, do you think they're fish?" Kyle asks and Cartman falls silent "Cartman, lobsters are not fish."
"Then what are they?"
"They're a sub-group called decapoda in the malacostracans class but they also classify as phylum Arthropoda."
"I thought they were Crustacea?" Stan chimes in for the first time since you came over.
"They are," Kyle glances back at him then to you then back to Cartman.
"So then how are they all that other stuff you just said?" Cartman asks this like he's finally got Kyle in a corner.
"Because animals are classified under taxonomic categories."
"What is that?"
"Oh my fucking god," Kyle runs his hands down his face.
"Hey, Ken," You put one hand on his bicep and leaned in to whisper into his ear "Do you have any Zyn?"
He turns to face you, looking down at your choice of clothing "There is no way you're in a straight-edge shirt and you're asking me for Zyn."
"Do you though?" With a sly smile, you straightened your posture.
He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, cut into a mullet "Pretty sure I left it in my car,"
"Fuck," Your face drops immediately, unintentionally forming into something of a pout for the first time in what must've been years.
"If you come with me we can grab it."
"Erm, I'm pretty sure all of the doors are bolted closed." You raise a brow, hand still absentmindedly resting on his arm.
"Don't worry about it," He waves you off. "But what do I get in return?"
"How about my undying gratitude?" You offered, your tone laced with mock seriousness.
"Oh, word?" He cracks a grin "I'll be back in a minute," Kenny addresses the group.
"Cool," Stan doesn't even look up at him but Kyle's eyes are trained on the way your fingers trail Kenny's arm, the touch light but lingering as you begin to walk away.
Kenny's beaten-up sneakers squeaked as the two of you crossed the polished hardwood floors of the gym and made your way into the somehow even brighter hallway "So what are your plans for the summer?"
"Mostly working I guess, I haven't made any plans so I guess I'll just figure it out as I go." You really hadn't thought about it. You knew that your parents planned a trip to Mexico to which you and Weston were not invited so the only thing that had come close to a plan in your mind was the thought crossing that you would take Weston on a camping trip while your parents were away.
"Same over here," He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie "You still working at that restaurant?"
"Yeah, you still working at that gas station?" It had been a hot minute since the last time you had really talked to Kenny and with that simple question, you were beginning to feel guilt pile onto your shoulders.
"Yup, been thinking about picking up a second job for the summer, got nothing better to do."
"Oh, you should apply at my work, I know we're hiring prep and dishwashers," You peeped up. It would make your summer just a little better if you got to work with Kenny. Even if you weren't anywhere near to how close you used to be, it might make those tiring serving shifts covered in steak sauce, garlic butter, and tears just a little better.
"For real? Maybe I will."
You had always thought Kenny was handsome in a scrappy way like a stray dog, it was his disjointed manner that made him so endearing. "So how are we leaving the school?"
He tilted his head, gesturing for you to turn down the hallways with him "There's an emergency entrance in the woodshop but you need to stay by the door and keep it open because it'll lock me out."
"Sweet," You smile up at him, the thought of a nicotine pouch resting on your gums brought you a little bit closer to satisfaction. "We should hang out soon, it's been a while."
"Jeez, I guess it has, a month is kinda long for us or has it been longer."
"I dunno, I lost track," You narrow your eyes, trying to think of the last time you had been with him one-on-one.
He acknowledges this with a hum "There's something I had to grab from my car at some point tonight anyways so this kinda works out."
"What is it?"
"You'll see," He shrugs.
"Kenny, what is it?" Your stomach drops a little bit. Whenever he was cryptic like this you knew there was something in the works within his brain.
"Don't worry," Kenny brushes you off, seemingly unbothered as he usually was.
"Dude, I'm worried."
"Okay, well I think the Zyn will help you with that," He jiggles the handle to the wood shop and holds it open for you.
Immediately you're greeted with the smell of woodchips and little particles of sawdust finding their way into your eyes, you clamp them shut and squeeze until the burning goes away. There isn't a single person inside, you didn't really expect the dusty woodshop to be a popular place to hang out during a lock-in.
"Don't make this a regular thing, I don't wanna see you abusing nicotine."
"I love nicotine, I would never abuse it," You reach for the phone in your pocket to turn on the flash. You wanted to be as discreet as possible, Kenny quietly shut the door behind the both of you.
The woodshop was eery in the darkness, it felt like you were in a horror movie where something would crawl out from beneath the table saw and maul you into a bloody mass of flesh pulsing on the floor.
"This shit is creepy," Kenny muttered, voicing your thoughts.
"I fucking know," You answer, "You think this is where Jigsaw makes his death traps?"
"Oh, definitely."
Kenny had a hand on your back to guide you to the exit door after you had almost knocked over a shelf of students' unfinished projects. Finally, you saw the exit sign hanging above a grey door, illuminated by your flash.
"Okay, just hold the door open but if anyone comes in, shut it and text me when they leave," Kenny yanks it open and the cold air hits you, forcing a shiver out of you.
"Just be quick, please," You take a spot standing in front of the heavy door while you watch Kenny jog away and disappear into the darkness. Kenny's car was what was referred to as a shit box. Every moment you spent in it you just kept thinking 'Okay, now it's going to give out' but it proved you wrong by pushing through with every rusted turn of the wheels.
His car was at the front of the school while you were stationed beside it, arms hugging yourself as the straight-edge t-shirt wasn't helping much to protect you from the cool night that hung on the other side of the doorframe.
Every passing second that Kenny was out of sight you grew just a little more concerned, constantly glancing back at the door of the woodshop. All of the blades and intricate machines seemed menacing when the only light that gleamed off the razor-sharp edges came from your phone.
"Keep the door open!" You hear Kenny's voice off in the distance.
You squint at the dark silhouette that is coming towards you full throttle with something being carried in front of him "Ken, what is that?" As his figure gets closer you can see the item he's holding is moving and squirming in his grip "What the fuck is that?"
The second Kenny steps foot inside you back away from him and let the door lock. He has a huge smile on his face while holding a raccoon underneath its armpits, his bottom half swaying slightly with every movement.
"That was the thing you had in your car?!" You can't help but shout, face contorted in horror at how easy-going Kenny was about holding a wild animal.
He grins mischievously. "Thought it'd be funny to let this little guy have a stroll, he's chill, he'll probably just walk around. Just a harmless prank."
Before you can protest, he loses his grip, and the raccoon drops to the ground with a thud. For a split second, it looks stunned. Then it bares its teeth, hissing angrily. Panic sets in as the raccoon charges toward you both.
"Fuck!" You shot away, weaving through the rows of workbenches and tools, careless not to knock anything over. You kept looking back at the feral animal charging you, bumping down projects and bottles of wood-blinding glue.
It was moments like these when you were glad that you ran track, not that you had ever been pursued by a feral animal before. You had started track initially to be sure you could run in a zombie apocalypse scenario and this was similar enough.
You throw the door to the woodshop open, Kenny follows behind you, regret obvious on his face. The hallways echo with the sound of your footsteps and the angry chittering of the raccoon. You glance back to see it gaining on you, its eyes glinting in the dim light.
Kenny splits down another hallway while you keep running straight, the raccoon chooses to follow you. There isn't anyone in the halls, all you can hear is the chatter within the classrooms. While you were sure you could fight a raccoon, you didn't want to risk the chance that it could bite you and you would forever be the girl who got rabies from a raccoon.
Kyle casually walks down the hallway in your direction, waving when he spots you "Why are you running?"
"Fucking run!" You shout gesturing for him to move in the other direction. He doesn't fight you on this, instead running next to you, trying to decode why you were frantically shifting your gaze all over the place.
"What's going on?" He asks, confusion clear across his face.
You ignore him, eyes catching on a classroom door which is slightly ajar, you snatch his hand and make a B-line for the class, yanking him in after you and shutting the door. You run your hands down your face, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.
"Is there a shooter?"
"No," you say "It's a raccoon."
Any worry on his face drops immediately "Be serious for a minute."
"I'm so serious Kyle and that thing is insane, it's out for blood."
"Did it bite you or something?"
You yank out a chair from beneath a desk and plop yourself down in it "No and thank god." A scream sounds from somewhere down the hallway and Kyle's eyes widen "We gotta let them fend for themselves, don't be a hero."
"I wasn't planning on breaking any doors down and fighting a raccoon," He retorts "How did it even get inside?"
"Pfft, I wouldn't know man," You shake your head, making forceful eye contact.
"You let it in?"
"Kenny did."
"Mother fucker," he mutters. "That asshole."
"It's really not that big of a deal," You cross your arms and lean back in the chair, quick to defend Kenny even though you weren't thrilled about a wild animal set loose in the school you would pretend to be for his sake.
Kyle turns to face, jaw clenching tightly and you already regret your words "It's not that big of a deal?"
"Yeah," You say, firmly "It's really not."
His voice steadies, the rise of anger ringing clear in his tone "Do you have any idea how many people could be hurt because of this?"
"It's fucking funny, Kyle," You exasperate, standing up from the chair and taking a stride toward him.
"How is this funny?"
"It's a raccoon that terrorizes a school, how is that not funny?"
"What if it had rabies?"
"Kyle, that's life. Sometimes a raccoon is gonna break into a school and attack teenagers," You try to sound nonchalant but there's agitation clinging to your words "Life ain't all cookies and cream, lil fella."
"Do not ever call me lil fella."
"Sorry, lil fella," You shrug.
"Don't act like you weren't shaking in fear two minutes ago."
"I was and two minutes later it's hilarious, I would be laughing my ass off right now if you weren't about to punch a wall."
"I'm not going to punch a wall," Kyle sneered.
"Are you gonna make a TikTok about it then?"
"Jesus fucking Christ," He uttered looking away from you.
"Acting like you've never done stupid shit before," You spit, moving closer until you're inches away from him. You felt that familiar surge of anger catching fire in your lungs, one that was sure to never be smothered "Pulling the fire alarm, punching Stan, taping porno magazines on Mr. Garrison's car-
"Those were ages ago," He cuts you off "At least some of us actually grew up."
"It's a fucking raccoon!" You throw your hands up in the air "And you're seventeen, you should think this is funny because it is and one day you're going to be an old wrinkly boney fuck with rotten testicles and wish that you revelled in this a little more."
"You aren't listening," His voice raises. Every few moments, he runs a hand through his hair in a quick, jerky motion, adding to the sense of barely contained rage.
He was right, you weren't listening. Kyle was hastily spitting out words while you just stared at him like his words were muffled to your ears. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, muscles tensed with barely contained frustration. His brows are furrowed deeply, casting a shadow over his narrowed eyes that stay trained on your face. His jaw is clenched so tightly that a muscle twitches in his cheek, and his lips are pressed into a thin, hard line.
The sleeves of his hoodie are rolled up and you can see the veins and the muscles flexing. His face was almost flushed red with rage, for the first time you had noticed the light dusting of freckles spread over his nose. You remembered him having them as a kid, they came around in the summer when he would spend hours in the sports court and chasing his friends through the woods. His face was spotted like a fawn, though they dwindled with age they always got dark after he bathed in sunlight.
"What?" He snaps, breaking your immersion "Are you going to say something?"
"Your freckles are coming in."
"What?" His eyebrows draw together even further. "What are you-
He is cut off by a sudden, sound of a heavy thump and metal hitting the linoleum and clattering in its place. You turn towards the sound and see that the vent covering has fallen off and something dark scuttles across the ground, catching only glimpses of it between rows and rows of desks. "Holy shit, it found me!" Without warning, the raccoon crashes against a desk with a ferocious growl, causing you to scream. Acting purely on instinct, you leap towards Kyle, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate bid for safety. His eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, his anger is replaced by shock as he catches you. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck."
"What are you doing?" he exclaims, but his voice is less harsh than before, more surprised than angry though the irritation still hangs in his tone.
"I don't want to look at it," You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into Kyle's collarbone. "This is gonna be really funny in a week but I'm actually really fucking scared right now."
Kyle has one protective arm over your midriff as he leans forward the slightest to look at the raccoon that stands between the pair of you and the door. The raccoon hisses and bares its teeth at you, slobber foaming around its mouth "It has rabies," He says, backing away "It actually has rabies."
"Fuck!" You shout, breaking away from Kyle and trying to scramble onto a desk, so panicked your legs keep slipping until Kyle lifts you by your waist until your feet are flat on the surface and hops on a desk himself. "What the fuck do we do?"
The raccoon circled around the door, staggering like it had just drunk a forty. You fumbled for your phone in your pocket, looking up what to do when you encounter an animal with rabies. "What are you doing?"
"Okay, um, Reddit says to shoot it dead, bag it, and burn it," you look over at Kyle.
"Do you have a gun in your pocket?" He says with an antsy sarcasm.
"No."
"Well, that's super helpful, thank you," His face flat and voice mocking.
"Not the time to be an asshole," As the raccoon snarls and regains its footing, you fumble for your phone, your hands shaking. "I'm calling the police," you tell Kyle, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and adrenaline.
Kyle nods, his eyes never leaving the raccoon. "Fucking hurry."
With trembling fingers, you dial 911, praying for a quick response. The raccoon begins to inch closer, its eyes locked onto you. "911, what's your emergency?" comes the operator's voice.
"We're trapped in a classroom with a rabid raccoon at Park County High," you say, your voice cracking. "It's really fucking gross looking like it's covered in mud and it had matted fur and shit." You shudder as it nears you "And it's pretty fucking fat, it jiggles when it walks."
"Okay, ma'am, I need you to stay calm," the operator replies, her voice steady and professional. "Can you confirm your location one more time?"
"Park County High, room 112," You wrinkle your nose as it begins to sniff up the desk you standing on "Its hands are dirty as shit, probably from being greedy and eating too much."
The operator starts to ask for details, but the raccoon lunges forward, coming dangerously close. Panic surges through you. Without thinking, you scream and hurl your phone at the animal. The device smacks the raccoon on the head, causing it to stumble and momentarily back off. Upon impact, your phone shatter, the screen glitching with colour before going black completely.
The raccoon stumbles for a second before hissing and lunging at your ankles again. You retract your feet, trying not to tip onto the ground. You can tell the raccoon is charging up to attempt another jump onto the desk, you leap down in a moment of panic and kick the desk into it. The desk drops to its side and squashes the raccoon which lets out a yelp before squirming it's way out.
You ran to the front of the class grabbing any stray books off of desks and chucking them at the raccoon. Snatching the metre stick from the spot where it rested against the whiteboard, you begin to swat at the raccoon "I actually will not survive if I get rabies," Your voice shakes with every word.
"Yeah, no shit!" Kyle retorts, his hands flying arounf frantically and his mind paniced to do something.
The metre stick only seems to make the raccoon more angry "This feels like animal abuse!"
"It is!"
"Should I stop?"
"Do you want rabies?"
"No."
"Then no!" Kyle climbs down from his desk and frantically looks around for something to throw at the raccoon, he grabs a thick textbook from the teacher's desk and throws it down at the rabid creature. It squeaks, staggers, and snaps its jaws, ignoring Kyle and staying focused on you.
"Kyle, open the door!" You shout, prodding at the raccoon in a feeble attempt to keep it away from your flesh.
He jiggles the handle to no avail, it doesn't budge. There's nothing but a familiar snigger on the only side of the door. "Cartman, open the door!"
"If you pay me twenty bucks right now." His irritating voice answers.
"What? I don't have money on me." He lifted the little shade that covered the glass panel on the door and of course, there was the back of Cartman's head.
"You're Jewish, that's impossible."
"I'll fucking Paypal you the money just open the door," Kyle's voice rises with every word.
"Jewrat, I know you have your little gold pouch on you."
"Did you put the fucking raccoon in the vent?"
"That depends," His voice is as smug as ever.
"I'm gonna kick your teeth in!" He slams his body against the door but Cartman is without question the heavier one leaning on the other side. "Open the door!"
"Is it ethical to kill it?" You crawl on top of the teacher's desk, kicking random items down every time the raccoon attempts to jump. It hits the creature's head with a little thud though it's only stunned for a moment before it goes back to attacking like it shot up some kind of drug.
“That doesn’t really matter,” Kyle does a run against the door, it looks like it's going to cave inward.
You had run out of supplies to knock on the raccoon's head, it grabbed hold of your shoe, getting more agitated with every attempt to shake it off. "Fuck, fuck, shitballs, fucking cunt licker!"
In mere seconds Kyle grabs a chair by its legs and bashes down onto the raccoon which claws into your shoes in an attempt to stay on you but the force of the chair brought it barrelling to the ground. It twitches under the chair, ragged breathes and squeals. "Did it bite you?"
You shake your head, a hand slapped over your mouth as you look down at the animal writing below. "Where the fuck are the police?" You scream. Kyle helps you down from the desk and you immediately spring towards the door, banging on it with all of your force "Eric, open the door or I'm gonna throw rocks through your window, you dumb whore!"
"Tell the jew to slide a bill under the floor," He says nonchalantly. Through the glass panel on the door, you can hardly see the rest of the hallway past Cartman's head which appears to be vacant. You turn back to Kyle who throws his hands up in exasperation then look to where the raccoon begins to stir on the floor and find its footing.
"I'm going to ask one more time, open the fucking door," You try to keep your voice as still as possible despite shaking with rage and biting the inside of your mouth so hard that blood mixes with your saliva.
"I'm going to ask one more time, tell Kyle to-
You ball your hand into a fist and rear your elbow out, connecting your knuckles to the glass panel that was once separating the two of you from Cartman. It shatters on impact, sending a spiderweb of cracks radiating outwards. The sound of breaking glass fills the room, echoing off the walls. You reach your other arm through broken glass and wrap your hands around Cartman's pudgy neck.
The panic is evident, his hand moving quickly to try and pry your hands away from him. You refuse to let go, holding him against the door despite his choking sputters and the urgent tapping over your hands.
"Open the fucking door!" You shout again, wringing Cartman's neck like a soaked towel, ignoring the little shards of glass stuck in your hands and the jagged edges of the frame cutting up your forearm. You were a lot less scared of Cartman than you were of the raccoon carrying a deadly illness.
He coughs, each breath becoming shallower and more desperate than the last. His hand fumbles for the door handle and the second you see the light from the hallway spill through a crack, you let go of Cartman and slam your body on the door which finally lets out.
You stumble through the door and into the hallway, watching your shaking hand engrained with little shards of class. Cartman's breathing heavily against a wall, his face the brightest shade of red you had ever seen on a human.
Kyle walks through, eyes wide and brows furrowed at the sight before him. He looks at you, shutting the door behind him "Is it funny now?"
"Kinda actually, yeah."
#south park#kyle broflovski#kyle south park#south park x reader#south park x y/n#kyle broflovski x reader#stan marsh#eric cartman#kenny mccormick#kyle brovlofski#kyle broflovski fluff#sp kyle#south park kyle#south park fanfiction
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I wake up on the morning of fathers day. Only to see my cousins walk in saying "Happy fathers day, dad" holding a cup of tea. I'm confused. But I play along. So i give a "Thank you" to them. And they leave my bedroom. I look around. Only to find it's not my bedroom. I look down and see my body is border. I drink my tea. And go to the bathroom. Only to see my unlce Elijahs body. I'm now uncle Eljah?. I'm uncle Elijah. I look down at my new body. I stripped off any clothes I was wearing. As I don't know how long I would be in Elijahs body. And to save any embarrassed later. Walking is going to be fun. Elijah junk is bigger than mine. And more sensitive.
I get changed and go downstairs. I text Elijah, who's now in my body.
"Elijah. What are we going to do?"
"Beau. Don't worry. Act like me. Until we figure this out. It will be great for you anyway. Peeta and Grace will make today special. As it's fathers day today"
"I forgot about that."
We spend the whole day having fun. Going to the beach. Eating ice cream. Enjoying eachothers company. Being Elijah. Being my cousins dad. It's fun.
"Dad?"
"Yes Peeta"
"What's it like being a dad?"
Fuck. He's got me. I don't know.
"It's the best thing anyone could ask for"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes Grace. I'm sure."
This went on for ages. Then we carried on with our day. We had a beautiful meal. I ordered Elijahs favourite, lamb vindaloo. It would be too spicy for me in my body. But as my uncle Elijah, its actually quite nice.
At the end of fathers day. My cousin, or kids, went to bed. It was juste me and my aunt, 'wife', Luna.
"Elijah. Today was great. The kids planned everything them selfs."
"It was. I loved every second of it."
"That's great." The processes to kiss me.
I freak out. Then I proceeded to kiss her. As I don't want her to wonder why I'm (Elijah, her husband) is acting weird.
We have a little snuggle. Watched TV. Then, I went to bed. I must confess. It was weird. But I need to act like Elijah. When I woke up. Luna went to work. She left a note.
"Elijah,
Worked phoned and want me in. I will be home in time for Patrick, Millie, Beau, and Jack.
Luna"
I forgot. We always come over after Father's Day. This will be the first time I'll see Elijah in my body. My dad is now my younger brother. My mum is my sister in law. My brother and my uncle are my nephews.
"Elijah. Are we still going to act like each other today? At the family event."
"Yeah. It's weried calling your dad, 'dad', How was it yesterday?"
"Great. I had a vindaloo. It was great. See you later"
"See you later. Beau. I mean Uncle Elijah."
God, that's another thing I've got to get used to other than being called Elijah and Dad. Being an uncle. Jack always calls Elijah, uncle, or uncle Elijah
So my dad, mum, brother, and uncle. Wait, no. My brother, sister in law and my nephew come over. Just in time, Luna comes over. Peeta and Grace immediately go and take 'Beau' and Jack. And as I'm Elijah. I'm with my dad (brother), mum (sister in law) and my aunt (wife). I'm going to have to call my parents by their names. So Patrick was telling me all the things 'Beau' and Jack did for fathers Day. I had to act like I didn't know. He genuinely sounded excited. I said all the things 'my kids' done. When 'Beau', Jack, Peeta, and Grace returned. I do what Elijah normally does. And lie on the sofa. The night went well. Me and Elijah kept looking at each other and smirking. It was weird talking to him and having to say my name.
Peeta, Jack, Grace and 'Beau' went upstairs. So me, Patrick, Millie and Luna in the living room. Me and Luna on one sofa. Patrick and Millie on the other sofa. So I acted like Elijah. Pretending I love Luna. After a few hours. They went home. The amount of times I've nearly said Mum and Dad to them.
The next day, I was still in Elijahs body. He texted me saying
"Beau. You're going to have to do my job. Luckily I'm working from home. So you don't have to socialise with my colleagues. Remember what I taught you."
God. I was hoping I wouldn't have to. But I'm willing to learn.
So I got washed and dressed. Then I logged on. The first email I see is a meeting. So I text Elijah,
"Elijah. I've got an email. It's a group meeting on video call."
"Beau. Don't worry. Don't say much. I don't normally. Just say, 'I'll get back to you'. And text me. Then I can run it with you"
"Ok. Thank you."
Elijah is a works in the tech industry. After a long day. I pulled through. Many conversation about fathers day. Many boring conversation about life.
As summer went into autumn. As autumn went into winter. I was still uncle Elijah. I've gotten used to this. So has Elijah. The snow came down fast and thick. So I wrapped up warm. Luna, Peeta and Grace done the same. And we went out in the snow. We had the best time.
Christmas came. We went over to Patrick's. This is the first Christmas where I'm his brother, and not his son. It feels weird. But I love it.
A few months later. Luna, Peeta and Grace were going to be out. In a couple of months it would be 1 year since we swapped bodies. So I invited Elijah, or now Beau, over to play some games. We had a blast. Talking about life. Talking about the swap. Talking about its weird calling family members different names. Talking about how we done well in fooling them.
Now it's fathers day. I'm uncle Elijah. Uncle Elijah is me.
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just thought you might be lonely
— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (part of a series)
— summary: billy comes to see you again, bringing you dinner & the two of you share hard truths
— tags: billy pining
— tw: mention of drugs, mention of domestic violence, eating
— word count: 4,117
— a/n: finding gifs of billy that even somewhat fit my posts for this series is gonna be difficult as hell
Billy struggles to get to sleep that night, because every time he begins to drift off, his heart starts to pound as he thinks about seeing you again the following day.
He feels like a damn teenager again at the excitement that fills him at the prospect of it—finally learning more, anything—about you. You clearly were not a social butterfly. Content to be left alone was more your style. That much was easy to detect right away. And, normally, he would respect that. But there was just something there that drew him in, left him wanting for more.
He was lonely. Had been his entire life. Even when he was surrounded by people worshipping the ground he walked on. And it didn't take much observation to reach the summation that you were as well. Why else would you be spending your spare time in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere?
He wonders where you come from. Is your dad, or even your mom, like his? Surely you're not homeless, and he hadn't chased you out of the only place you had to call home, right? He frowns at that thought.
The least he could do to make it up to you was offer you...something. Money? He has a feeling you may be insulted by that. What if he offered to work on the house, then? Just some general repairs. Were you going hungry? He could always bring you something to eat—whatever you wanted.
He sighs, rolling over, squeezing his eyes shut. And is then greeted by the sight of you staring up at him from inside that closet.
It was going to be a long night.
Billy drags the next day at work. Thankfully, he doesn't commit any screw-ups, but he does end up cursing a bit more than usual while working on the undercarriage of a Pontiac.
He's beyond relieved once the workday is through and he can leave. He has half-a-mind to head straight home, desperate for a hot shower and a lie-down, as well as dinner, but instead opts for a brown bag filled with greasy diner food, and driving up that dirt road yet again.
"You here? I brought dinner!" Billy calls into the empty house.
He heads upstairs, same as yesterday, and the room with the mattress—as well as the closet—is empty.
He turns back around, trying the door you had locked yesterday...and finds it unlocked.
He steps inside, and finds furniture covered in stained white sheets, and there is indeed a window on the wall opposite him, which is now shut.
So, you'd been back. He wonders if you're here now, then decides he's not leaving until he's looked through every room.
A normal person wouldn't be trying this hard—honestly, a normal person wouldn't have cared this much in the first place about you coming here—but he was committed to getting answers now. No matter how long it may take.
The next room he tries has nothing more than a broken bedframe in it, a wooden bedside table with a lamp set atop it beside of it—the shade hanging loosely from it, and a shattered window. The one past it is a small bathroom, with a clawfoot tub against the left wall, a toilet and sink against the other, which all need a good scrubbing.
He sighs, going to try the room to his left now—the one before the room with the mattress—and finds the door locked.
He smiles. "Found you," he mutters.
He doesn't bother with knocking; he knows you won't open it. So, he instead kneels, setting the brown bag on the floor, and retrieves a multi-purpose knife from his pocket, pulling out a miniature blade from the side, then jamming it in the lock. He doesn't bother trying to jimmy it open; working with the doorknob. Perhaps he was being an ass right now, but once he was done, the handle would never lock again.
If it meant that much to you, he'd replace it with his own money—his own two hands.
He hits the butt of the tool with the palm of his hand once, twice, three times, and then he twists, biting his lip, shoving it in further, hitting it again and then the door swings open.
He stands, pocketing the knife, picking up the bag, and finds you sitting on the other side below a closed window, back against the wall, arms crossed, legs outstretched, and by the look on your face, he can tell you're not pleased with him.
He gives a small smile, holding the bag up. "Brought you something to eat." He hopes it will now serve to warm you to him even just a bit, given what he'd just done to your new hiding place.
You continue to stare at him for a moment, before narrowing your eyes. "Has no one ever taught you the meaning of a locked door, or do you just not know how to take a hint?"
He smirks, shrugging one shoulder lightly before crouching down and settling himself beside you, back pressed firmly to the wall as he opens the bag, pulling out a cheeseburger. He holds it toward you.
Your hands remain in your lap, resting atop an open book as you merely glance to him. "I'm not eating that."
He frowns. "I got it for you."
You can't imagine why. What was this guy's problem, anyway? The fact he had apparently been watching you for two weeks had already set you on-edge. But this? He'd busted the damn lock just to get to you. Who knew what was in that burger.
You grab your novel, picking up where you'd left off as soon as you heard boots heading up the stairs again, just like yesterday.
That had certainly scared the living daylights out of you. If only you'd initially bothered hiding in the room with the window—the one also with a lock on the door—that you'd finally climbed out of. Then he most likely would've left this place and never come back.
Ruined. Now everything was ruined because this creep wanted a piece of jailbait. Not like he's the first.
He sighs, unwrapping it, suddenly understanding why you refuse to eat it. He takes a bite, chewing, swallowing, and then he holds it to you again. "There's nothing in it, if that's what you're-"
"I'm not eating after a stranger."
He pulls out the second burger, offering it to you.
You don't bother even looking at him as you turn a page, saying, "Maybe that one is drugged, and this was all a ruse to get me to take it instead."
He sets his hand in his lap, leaning his head back against the wall, but still looking at you. "If I wanted to have my way with you, I'd already have you on your back, y'know?"
You side-eye him at that comment, before returning to your book. "Think awful highly of yourself."
He smirks. "I think you know what I'm referring to."
A beat of silence, then, "That's creepy. What are you, anyway? Thirty? I'm seventeen, you know."
He scoffs. "Thirty? Knock a decade off that, hon'. Well, nine years."
You shrug. "Look old to me."
His lip twitches. Were you ribbing him? He tosses the burger in your lap then and you roll your eyes, leaving it.
He then takes another bite of his, then another. He swallows. "What're you reading?"
"A book."
His lip twitches again as he fights against a smile. You were being curt with him in a desperate attempt at getting him to leave, clearly, but what you didn't know was that being unwanted wasn't a new thing for him.
"Does it have a title?" He pushes his luck further—now, for some reason—wanting to get under your skin. Which he knows is just...wrong, as you'd done nothing to deserve it. Except drive him mad with questions. If not a bit of longing that he'd told himself more than once he didn't really feel. It was imagined. Or, rather, not about you at all.
Maybe he should just hire a hooker, and then he'd feel better. He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous idea.
"Yes."
"Well, do I need to guess it, too?" He asks, taking another bite.
You shrug, turning another page. "If that'll make you happy, Willy."
"Billy."
You finally look at him, then, and his heart jumps when your lovely eyes meet his own. "Hm?"
"My name. It's not Willy. I mean, William is technically right, but no one calls me that. Billy."
You study him for a moment. "Uh-huh."
He smirks. You were entertaining, if nothing else. God, he wants to fucking touch you.
"You really going to let it go to waste?"
"I never asked you to bring me food." You turn back to your book. "Or come back here in general. Incase it isn't obvious, as it seems most things must not to be to you: I come here to be alone. Your presence is sort of defeating that purpose."
You were such a smartass.
"Just thought you might be lonely. Thought that maybe my thrilling company would be preferable to-"
"It's not."
You stop reading then, only pretending to. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, for whatever reason. Maybe...maybe he was lonely, too. But if he wanted back in your good graces, he was going to be replacing the lock.
You shouldn't feel guilty for your shortness with him. You'd not asked—or, much more, invited—him here. He'd just given himself permission to intrude on what you'd eventually come to consider your domain. Your place of peace.
You sigh, shutting the book, picking up the burger.
He smiles as he watches you take a bite, and then another. "Can I ask you somethin'?"
You swallow, looking at him.
"How'd you even find this place?"
"Walking." You take another bite.
"You don't...live here, right?"
You're silent for a moment, continuing to eat—the burger now halfway gone. "No. But if you even want to attempt at getting on my good side, you'll be replacing the lock."
He turns the least bit more toward you. "Happily."
You roll your eyes, biting then chewing again.
"Anybody else know about it?"
You shrug. "I've never ran into anyone else here. Until yesterday." You give him a glare and he chuckles.
You speak again. "So, you've been stalking me, huh?"
He blanches. "I haven't."
You glance to the knob, then back to him.
He smirks, looking down, rubbing his thumb into the callused palm of his other hand. "Guess I got a bit carried away, huh?" He looks at you from under his lashes.
"Why do you care in the first place?" You ask, genuinely curious about his...motivations.
"You fascinate me."
You quickly swallow. "Why?"
He shrugs. "Why not? Honestly, for the last couple of weeks, you're all I've been able to think about. For the most part, at least."
You grow quiet at that. You're not sure whether you should blush or balk at such a statement. In all honesty, it makes you feel a tad uncomfortable. All of it does, really.
"Can't find a girl your own age?"
He leans his head back, smirking. "Funny. Now who thinks highly of themselves?"
You cross your ankles. "So, instead of finding a hobby, you develop an infatuation with a random teenage girl, track her down to an abandoned house, and break into the room she's hiding from you in. I shouldn't find that weird? Maybe I should call the police."
Hearing it put like that makes him feel...not well with himself. It makes him sound...he doesn't want to think of what it makes him sound like. He's not...like that. He just wanted answers. That was all.
"You're the one living here, and you call me weird? And with what landline, sweetheart?"
"I told you I don't live here," you quickly shoot back at him, not replying to his comment about the non-existent phone.
"Ok, spend spare time here, then."
"You're avoiding what I said," you reply, burger now nearly finished.
He stares straight ahead, out the now-open doorway. He'd have a stop to make after work tomorrow now. Well, an extra one. "I don't have many friends, incase you can't tell by now. Well, none, really. Not anymore."
Quite a pair, you muse, taking your last bite.
He continues. "I'm not saying that's what I came here to find. I just..." He sighs, leaning his head back, shutting his eyes, utterly fucking exhausted. Not even he knows what the damn hell he's doing here. "Couldn't let it go, I guess. I wanted to meet you. Don't ask me why, because your guess is as good as mine."
He feels something bounce off his face then, and when he opens his eyes, the silver wrapper from your burger is now resting in his lap.
He looks at you with a raised brow.
You have a small smile on your lips, and you look at him for only a moment before picking your book back up again.
"You live in town?" He asks.
"I don't know, do I?"
He rolls his eyes. "I haven't followed you anywhere but here."
"Where do you live?"
He crosses his arms. "Outskirts of town."
"Why not in it?"
He becomes quiet then and you can tell there's something there to be discovered.
"Just don't like living on top of everybody else."
You hum your response, not really buying that answer.
He speaks again. "You still live at home?"
"I'm seventeen, so what do you think?." You turn a page.
He shakes his head. "So, you go to Hawkins High?"
"Mhm."
"Me too. Well, did. Graduated four years ago." He looks at you. "You like going to school?"
You shrug. "I don't much care either way. I'd rather be here, but..."
"Why not spend your time at home instead?"
"You sure do have a lot of questions."
"Plenty more where that came from. Never did answer." And he truly means it.
You sigh, shutting your book once more. "You're making it very hard to concentrate."
He nearly makes a flirtatious comment at that. It was only four years between the two of you. Occasionally, he still felt your age. Sometimes, however, he felt twice his own. He refrains. "I'll leave you to your reading soon enough. I only have a few dozen questions."
You blink at him.
"That's not sarcasm, by the way," he states.
"I promise I'm not nearly as interesting as whatever story, or version of me that you've come up with inside your head."
He waves a hand. "That's to be determined."
You turn more toward him then with an interested look.
He smiles. "I didn't really come up with a story about you, exactly. Just about what might be out here. Maybe you were camping, or swimming, or climbing a treehouse everyday."
"Well, you're at least somewhat right."
He raises a brow. "Oh?"
"There's a swimming hole not far from here."
He nods for a moment, then, "Should we go?"
You snort, standing. "So the strange man can drown me with no witnesses? Not likely."
You exit the room then and he quickly stands as well, following after you. "Where're you-" He's cut short by the sight of you disappearing around a corner, heading downstairs.
His boots thump loudly against each step as he tries to catch up to you. "Hey!" He groans as he reaches the first floor, turning toward the back of the house, watching as you exit through the rear screen door.
"The fuck am I doing," he mutters, following you outside.
He finds you seated on a porch swing that's missing a couple pieces of wood, the white paint nearly gone.
You stare up at him, watching as he positions his hands on his hips, only glancing momentarily to his partially unbuttoned shirt. You slip off your sneakers, crossing your legs before you as you begin to lightly swing yourself.
He looks off into the distance and sees the place is surrounded by yet more tall grass, but there's also a few apple trees. Surprising, he thinks.
He walks out, you watching him, as he pulls two ripe green apples from branches, heading back in your direction.
He sits, placing one on the banister behind the two of you before retrieving his pocket knife and slicing off a piece, handing it to you.
Gingerly, you take it from him, your fingertips brushing against his own, sending a jolt of excitement through him. Good lord, it'd truly been a long time, hadn't it? Since he had any form of female attention. Other than occasionally being ogled at the shop by women standing next to their soft-handed, clueless, accountant husbands.
You chew slowly, studying him.
And he just stares back at you doing the same. Only difference is, you don't seem bothered by the eye-contact. Four years ago, he would've known exactly what to do with you. Now? Not so much.
"Anything you want to ask me?" He says, eager to break the silence.
You consider for a moment, him now lightly rocking the both of you, pushing against the wooden floorboards of the back porch with his boots.
“Your accent—you’re not originally from here, are you?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “No. My old man moved us here when I was seventeen. From California.”
Long ways, city boy, you think. “Where is he now?”
He slices off another piece, popping it in his mouth, and then another one for you. He shrugs. “Still living in town. I run into him every now and again after work.”
There’s a story there. “Do you not get along?”
He’s silent again, slicing off another piece and then another. He has no idea why he chooses to divulge it to you, but if he wants you to trust him—to continue giving him answers as well—he has to give you something in return. “We never have. He used to smack my mom around. Until she left. Then it was just me, and I started getting the brunt of it. He remarried. Got a new step-daughter, which became my fuckin’ problem to look after. Once I was eighteen and out of school, he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”
You see the pain of it in his eyes, this truth he’s shared. You weren’t used to such honesty, because honest people were not the types you typically kept company with. By any means.
He looks at you again, handing you another slice.
You take it, chewing thoughtfully for a moment.
“What about you?”
You stare at him for just a moment, wondering if you were really about to do this. Tell him this most dark, hidden truth about your life. One that…if it reached the wrong people—cops that weren’t already in the ‘right’ pockets—it could mean the end. For many. Not that you’d shed a tear to watch a single one of them fall. At least that way, they’d never touch you again. Ever.
“What do you do for a living?”
He frowns. “I asked you a question fir-”
“And if you want me to answer it, you’ll tell me what I’ve asked.”
His brows furrow. “I’m a mechanic.”
You sit forward then, holding out your hands. “Give me your hands, then.”
His confusion only grows. “What?”
“If you’re a mechanic, it means you work with your hands all day. They should be rough—callused. Otherwise, I’m going to assume you’re lying. Maybe you’re a cop. Maybe that’s why you’ve been watching me. Maybe you think you know something. So, you either give me your hands, or I leave, and this conversation is permanently over.”
He suddenly wonders just who the hell he’s talking to. What it is that you’re involved in, exactly.
He gives you his hands, and you turn them onto their palms. Callused most certainly, dirt—perhaps oil—seeped into the cracks, even. Rough like sandpaper. A familiar sensation that you’ve felt across every inch of you and then some.
You glance up to him, squeezing them tighter. “Are you a cop?” You ask with a raised brow, almost certain he isn’t.
“Do I look like a cop?”
You continue to stare.
He sighs. “No, I’m not a fuckin’ cop.”
You let him go then, leaning back, crossing your arms. “My dad and I…we keep our distance from one another. I do as I’m told when he does occasionally tell me to do something—mostly helping him with the…family business, or household chores, and in return, I can do as I please without him bothering me.”
He takes one of your feet into his lap then, gently tugging your sock off, laying it to the side and massaging your sole. “And what is the ‘family business’, if you don’t mind me asking?”
You’d not been expecting the tender gesture on his part. But, you spent a lot of time walking. For various reasons. So, your feet aching was a regular occurrence.
This was nice of him to do. Or perhaps he had other motives. Not that you'd be surprised. Men always did. Especially with you.
You’d not told this truth to anyone. And you’d known this man for perhaps an hour and you were ready to tell him this? Maybe you truly were a stupid girl. You’d heard as much a time or two.
“He’s a dealer. Meth, mostly.”
His hands falter. “And you help him by…?”
You shrug, reaching for the extra apple, taking a bite. “Like I said, doing as I’m told. That’s all you get for today. In regards to that question, at least. That subject.”
“And where is your mom in all of this?”
Another shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Where the damn hell had you come from? You seemed intelligent enough. Too much for your own good—or, perhaps, just enough. You did not come off as the daughter of a drug dealer.
He just looks at you, and you at him. His gaze softens. “You come here to get away from it. Does he make it in the house?”
You shake your head. “There’s a shed. Not that he doesn’t sometimes do it in the house, but it’s not often. That much he bothers with trying to keep away from me. He’s stressed time and again that he wants me to stay away from it, even if I’m surrounded by it…”
Your tone has grown quiet now, even perhaps a bit sad.
You’re no longer looking at him.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can think to offer, and he knows it falls woefully short of what you deserve to hear.
You take another bite, a small one. “Me too.”
He leans his head back, closing his eyes, hand resting atop your ankle. “Just when I thought this shithole couldn’t get any worse.”
“You asked.”
His lip twitches. “I guess the only difference now is that I know.”
You notice the swing has stopped rocking. “Been here the whole time.”
“I guess so.”
After a handful of minutes, he begins to snore softly, and you know it’s time to go. You gently remove your foot from his lap, then reach over, retrieving your sock, and slipping it back on, then your sneakers.
You walk over, shrugging on your backpack, and then you stop and stare at him for just a moment.
He truly was very…pretty. For a man, that is. The types you were often around were typically more on the rugged or rough side. Handsome could be the adjective used to describe one or two. Pretty, however? Never.
Long, dark lashes, full lips, bright eyes—when they’re open, that is—a sharp jawline, and dark stubble, hard planes across his abdomen; what you can see of it, at least. He almost looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine. Perhaps Popular Mechanic, you think with a smirk.
You step over to him, then lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. And then you consider for a moment, before brushing another over his lips before pulling back, whispering ‘see ya’, before heading out.
When Billy wakes again, it’s not quite an hour later, and when he looks to the side of him, you’re gone, an apple core sitting in the spot you’d previously occupied.
He rises, stretching, then heading inside, calling for you. To no avail.
He heads upstairs, and finds every room and closet empty. So he heads back down, exiting the house, knowing: he’ll see you tomorrow—his mystery girl.
#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x you#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you#stranger things x reader
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Season 2, Episode 4 - Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things
Series Masterlist
Deans POV (surprise!<3)
"Come on, guys. I'm begging you. This is stupid" I plead with Sam and Y/N as I drive down the road with Y/N lounging in the back. "Why?" Sam asks. "Going to visit Mom and Mrs. L/N's graves? They don't even have any graves. There was no body left after the fires" I point out. "They have headstones" Y/N pipes up from the back.
"Yeah, put up there by our uncle and your aunt. People we've never even met. So you guys wanna go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a bunch of strangers? Come on." I scoff. "Dean. "That's not the point" Sam exaggerates. "Well, then, enlighten me" I roll my eyes. "It's not about a body or a casket. It's about their memories, okay?" Y/N tries to reason with me.
"Yeah, and after Dad and F/N, it just feels like the right thing to do" Sam adds. "It's irrational, is what it is" I grumble. "Look, man. No one asked you to come" Sam retorts. I just roll my eyes, "Why don't we swing by the Roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately? We should be hunting that son of a bitch down" I suggest to them.
"That's a good idea. You should. Just drop me and Sam off at Bobby's. We'll take Quinn and we'll meet you there tomorrow" Y/N shrugs nonchalantly. I give her a knowing look through the rearview mirror to see a little smug smile on her face. "Right" I respond ironically. "I'd be stuck with those people, making awkward small talk until you two show up. No, thanks" I huff.
A victorious grin takes over her face, "It's settled then, " Sam chimes in. Mouthing a 'Thank You' to Y/N, which he probably thought I didn't notice.
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Now in-front of Mom's headstone, Sam begins to dig into the grass with a knife while clutching one of Dad's old marine dog tags. I sighed and walked over to Y/N who was sat crisscrossed in-front her moms headstone a couple plots down from Mom's, her back turnt to me. Her head was tilted down towards her feet, her voice was shaky as she spoke,
"Since Dad....I wonder sometimes if he'd be happy to know I'm becoming more like you everyday. I'm trying to make sense of it all, figure out how to control it without scaring the boys. I'm terrified that they'll look at me as some freak, sure Sam might get it a bit but...." She tears up, taking a deep breath. "It's really fucking hard, mom" She sniffles, a pained chuckle escaping her throat.
My heart panged painfully hearing how broken she sounded. She's worried about us more than herself. Worried we'd see look at her differently and see her as some freak. This hurt me inside out that she could possibly think I would love her any less....I mean we. Me and Sam. Yeah. That's what I meant.
I decided to take a seat next to her, she turned her head away and quickly wiped away her tears before turning back to me. "Hey" She croaked, feigning a smile. "Hey" I respond softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She gently laid her head on my shoulder, sniffling back her tears. Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she moves her head to get a more comfortable spot, her eyes not leaving the headstone.
My heart pace quickened at this, her hair nuzzling lightly on my nose when I turned my head. I smiled a bit into the gesture, the scent of tobacco mixed with coconut from her shampoo filled my nose. The aroma alone sent a blush creeping up the back of my neck. My breath hitched in my throat, sneakily whiffing her hair, whilst trying not to make it obvious. It calmed me down, as much as I didn't want to come here.
I'm glad she was here with me...and Sam. My chin lounged on the crown of her head.
God she's so heavenly.
"Are you sniffing my hair?" Her amused tone broke me out of my trance, my eyes snapping open, wide in shock. "Uh...no...." I sheepishly responded, an embarrassed smile taking over my face. Y/N raised her head to look me in my eyes, an amused look in her eyes. "Did it smell nice?" She chuckles, a mischievous grin danced on her plump lips as she pumped her eyebrows smugly. Tears still glistening in her eyes.
"Don't be smooth, that's my thing" I chuckled. She threw her head back laughing lightly, a genuine smile on her face. Something I hadn't seen in sometime, instantaneously, it made a grin break out on my face. The sight of her smiling, the crinkle of her cute nose, the creases at the corner of her eyes, made my heart swell.
God I'm whipped.
Get your head in the game, Dean!
My eyes scanned the cemetery and landed on an out-of-ordinary tree. It was the only tree in the area that was dying, leaves brown and falling. Y/N asked me when she felt my body stiffen, "What's wrong?" She asks me concerned, her eyes followed the direction mines were aimed at. I then got up from the ground and helped her to her feet.
We both dusted ourselves off and began to walk towards the tree. We both eyes the tree as Y/N leaned over and knocked the hallow bark of the tree with her knuckles, "Uh...Dean..." Y/N says to me nervously, pointing to the ground. "Wha-?" I go to ask but my eyes widen when I see what she's pointing at. Around us in a perfect circle, the grass was dead. Brown like the leaves on the tree, while the rest of the cemetery was green as usual.
"What the fuck" I mutter to myself, my eyes flicked to a presumedly new headstone by the state of it. Next to it was dying flowers, probably a couple days old. Y/N knelt down next to it to get a better look at the headstone. We shared a look at this, both freaked out.
"Thank you" I thank the groundskeeper of the cemetery after finding out about the headstone and who's grave it is. "Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college. Funeral was three days ago" I explain to Sam and Y/N as I walk over towards them. "And?" Sam asks halfheartedly. "And? You saw her grave. Everything dead around it in a perfect circle. You don't think that's a little weird?" Y/N points out the obvious.
I nod in agreement. "Maybe the groundskeeper went a little aggro with the pesticide" Sam suggests in a plain tone. I shake my head, "No, I asked him. No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it" I tell him. "Okay, so what are you guys thinking?" Sam asks. "I don't know" I sigh. "Unholy ground maybe?" Y/N suggests. "Un-?" Sam cocks his eyebrow at us.
"What?" Me and Y/N ask in unison. "If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground" I say defensively. "Remember the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?" I ask Sam. "Yeah" Sam responds. "Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or the Angela girls spirit if it's powerful enough" I add. "I would've felt it though so..." Y/N says trailing off.
"Okay, maybe it's something else" I shrug. Sam rolls his eyes and walks off towards Baby. Me and y/n share a tired look at this. "Well don't get too excited, you might pull something" I scoff sarcastically at Sam. "It's just, stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places?" Sam shakes his head, not convinced. "So?" Y/N counters, going over to the backseat on my side. His eyes flicker between the two of us.
"Are you sure this is about a hunt? Not about something else?" Sam says in a knowing tone. This dude just won't stop bringing up our dads death as a reason to pull shit out of me, I swear. I see Y/N roll her eyes at the corner of my eye before muttering to herself, "Oh dear god" She holds her head, probably thinking the same as me. "What else would it be about?" I press as I lean against Baby, clasping my hands on her roof.
Sam just shakes his head, his hands on his hips as he lets out an exasperated sigh, "You know, just forget it" He sighs, opening the passenger door. "You can believe what you want, Sam. But we dragged his ass out here. The least we can do is check this out" Y/N tries to reason with him, taking my side. "Yep, fine" Sam agrees, a blank look on his face as I give Y/N a grateful smile which she returns.
"Girls dad works in town. He's a professor at the school" I smirk at Sam, opening the drivers door and jumping in.
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We were all now at the community college, knocking on the dead girls fathers office door. An age-able man opened it, a distressed look coating his face. "Dr. Mason?" I asked. "Yes" The man confirmed. "I'm Y/N, this is Dean and Sam" Y/N introduced herself and then us sweetly, "We were friends of Angela's. We....we wanted to offer our condolences" Sam says in a sorrowful tone as me and y/n nod.
"Please, come in" Dr. Mason invites us in. We all walk in one by one before he closes the door. We began to play at his sympathies, asking him about his daughters death. He then pulled out a photo album of some recent pictures of his daughter. Both Sam and Y/N were sat besides him on a couch while I looked around the office, my gaze landed on a weird book on his table, with a gold symbol engraved into the cover.
I've never seen before that symbol before, and the title in what seemed like a dead language. So I decided to take a look at it. "She was beautiful" Y/N says gently. "Yes, she was" Dr. Mason croaks. "This is an unusual book" I say to them, before closing it shut and turning it to everyone. "Oh, it's Ancient Greek. I teach a course" Dr. Mason says. I nod before placing the book back onto his table.
"So, a car accident, that's....That's horrible." I say sympathetically, walking towards them. Dr. Mason looked down in despair, "Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh..." He trails off, his tone pained. "It's gotta be hard...losing someone like that" I say in an understanding tone. "Sometimes it's like they're still around...almost like you can still sense their presence" Y/N adds, looking down at her hands.
Sam's gazes shift over to us, both knowing she's talking from experience. "You ever feel anything like that?" She asks curiously. I shake my head at her not so subtle way of putting it. I noticed Sam shot us his classic side glare bitch face, "I do, as a matter of fact" Dr. Mason nods. Y/N then looks over at Sam with a smug tone, his glare not faltering. He then shifts over to me and I give him the same look.
"That's perfectly normal, Dr. Mason. Especially with what you're going through" Sam says in a slightly condescending tone, his words definitely aimed at us. "You know, I still phone her. And the phones ringing before I remember that, uh..." Dr. Mason admits tearfully, "Family's everything, you know?" He adds, taking a deep breath.
That I could definitely relate to. "Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now, well, I'm just lost without her" He sniffles, looking down at his hands. Sam looks over at me and Y/N with a look of sympathy but I don't dare to look him in the eye, neither does y/n. "We're very sorry" Y/N offers her condolences to Dr. Mason.
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It's now late, the sun was set, "I'm telling you. There's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet" I try to convince Sam, now back in our motel room. I'm searching through Dads journal while Sam is at the sink in the bathroom washing his hands and Y/N is by the window-still smoking a cigarette. "So far, all you guys got a patch of dead grass and nothing" Sam huffs, wiping his hands.
"Something turned that garage into unholy ground." Y/N pipes up defensively, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her lips. "There's no reason for it to be unholy ground. Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father." Sam points out the facts, shaking his head not convinced.
"Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" I quip back, walking over to y/n by the window still, taking a seat across from her on the chair. "You know what? We never should've bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore" Sam scoffs. "So what, Sam? We just bail? Without even figuring out what's going on?" Y/N retorts back, crushing her cigarette butt in the tray.
He gives us a knowing look, his hands on his hips before saying, "I think I know what's going on here" He sighs, we cocked our eyebrows at this. "It's the only reason I went along with you guys this far" Sam adds. "What are you talking about?" I ask confused. "This is about Mom and Mr. L/N's graves." He puts it bluntly.
My heart pangs as Y/N looks down, "It's got nothing to do with it" I scoff, shaking my head. "You wouldn't step within 100 yards of moms grave. And y/n, I saw how pained you were when you sat at m/n's grave. And I get it, I do." Sam further presses. I don't dare to look him in his eyes, not answering. A lump forming in my throat, "Look, maybe you guys are imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about our parents" Sam says gently.
My eyes snap over to him, along with y/n's, both of us glaring at him as I roughly tossed Dad's journal on the window still next to her. My jaw clenched. Her fists balls up on her lap. Sam sighs, "You wanna take a swing at me this time, y/n/n? Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better. You too, Dean." Sam shakes his head tiredly. "We don't need this crap" I grunt, going over to pick up my keys and jacket, along with y/n's jacket.
"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asks exasperatedly as I hold up y/n's jacket towards her. "I'm gonna go get a drink." I say firmly. "You coming, Princess?" I ask her gently. She looked between us hesitantly before sighing with a nod. I help her put it on and then we both make our way out of the motel and over to the Impala, words not leaving either of our mouths.
"We're not going to get a drink, are we?" She breaks the silence, giving me a knowing look as I start the ignition. My eyes shift over to hers, a slight smirk on my face. One hand on baby's steering wheel, the other on her gear shift. "You know me so well" I smirk, earning an eye-roll from her as I pull out of the parking lot.
________________________________
The sun was almost risen, both Y/N and I were at Angela Mason's house. Y/N was on her knees picking the lock while I was on lookout. My hands were buried in my jacket pocket, fiddling with my lighter. "You almost done?" I asked her a bit impatient. "Chill your tits, dude. I almost got it" She retorts sassily, in a couple seconds, she got it unlocked and gestured for me to come.
She slowly opened the door, the both of us peering through the crack to make sure no one can see us. We walked in to see some boxes on the kitchen counter, I spotted a picture of the dead girl, picking up the frame. "She was pretty" Y/N commented, as we both looked at the picture. I sighed nodding, we both panicked when we saw a reflection of a girl in the picture.
Both turning around in shock, "Who the hell are you guys?" The girl panicked, running into her room. "Wait, wait, wait!" I try to stop her as me and y/n ran to the door. "Hold on!" Y/N pleaded, but she locked the door. "I'm calling 911!" The girl announced terrified. "I'm Angela's cousin!" I came up with a lie on spot. "What?!" The girl yelled through the door. Y/N shot me a 'Wtf?!" look and I just shrugged.
"Yeah, her dad sent us over to, uh, pick up her stuff" Y/N adds, trying to convince the girl. "My name's Alan. Alan Stanwyk. And this is my wife Gail" I fumbled using a name from the movie Fletch. Y/N cocked her eyebrow like she usually does, "She'd never believe we're married. We're too young" Y/N whisper-grumbles at me. "Give it a second" I whisper back.
The door then unlocked and I shot her a smug grin while she rolled her eyes. "Her dad didn't say that you were coming" The girl says to us suspiciously. "Well, I mean..." Y/N clears her throat, before sticking her hand into my back pocket to pull out my car keys. "We also have the keys to your place" She smiles awkwardly, I chuckle a bit but the girl takes the bite.
________________________________
Angela's friend, Lindsey, sat across from us in her living room, blowing her nose a bit exaggeratedly as she sobbed, "So, I'm sure you got a view of Angela that none of the family got to see. Tell me, what was she like?" I ask curiously. The friend smiles tearfully, "She was great. Just great. I mean she was so...." Lindsey responded, nodding, trailing of as she took a deep breath.
"Great?" Y/N deadpans. "Yeah" Lindsey sobs, blowing her nose again. I raised my eyebrow at this suspiciously, noticing Y/N narrow her eyes at Lindsey. I then pull out another tissue from the box on the coffee table before handing it to Lindsey, "There you go" I say gently, feigning a small smile. "You two must've been really close" Y/N assumes.
"We were" Lindsey nods. "But it's not just her, it's Matt" She sniffles, shaking her head. "Who?" I ask curiously. "Angela's boyfriend." She says as if we're supposed to know. "Yeah, right. Matt" Y/N says in fake realization. "Um, what about him?" I ask. "He killed himself last night" She tells us, placing her hand on her throat. "He cut his own throat. Who does that?" She asks terrified.
Y/N and I share a look at this, "That's terrible" Y/N says sympathetically. "He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess..." Lindsey says tearfully, trailing off before thinking for a bit. "I mean, he's be messed up about it for days" She informs us. "Messed up how?" I ask. "He kept saying that he saw her everything." She further explained. This sent up red flags in my head immediately.
I knew it. Take that Sammy.
Me and Y/N share a look of recognition ay this. "Well, I'm sure that that's normal. I mean, with everything that he was going through" Y/N tries to assure her. "He said that he saw her. As in an acid trip or something" Lindsey says fearfully. Huh, well that's some compelling information. "Were Angela and Matt a happy couple? I mean, was there any reason Angela would be angry with him?" I ask. "What? No, of course not" Lindsey shakes her head in disbelief.
"Why do you ask?" She asks. "We're just asking" Y/N smiles tightly shooting me a warning look. "Where did Matt live?" I ask again, with an awkward smile. By the look on Y/N's face, I could tell she wanted to tap me across my head for not putting it subtly.
We left Angela's house, and as we were walking back to the car, just as I expected. A hand struck me across the side of my head. "Ow!" I groan, chuckling to myself. "What was that for?" I grumble at Y/N. I turnt around to be met with a glare from her. "Be more forward, why don't ya? You suck at being subtle, I swear" She snaps back, jumping into the passenger seat.
I chuckle, then jumping into the drivers seat. "Subtle or not, I got the address" I smirk, shaking the paper with the written address in her face. "And I got..." I reach into my jacket and pull out the brown leather book. Y/N's eyes widen, "You stole the girls diary!" She was agape. "Yep" I responded in a cheeky tone, popping the 'p' at the end. "Do you not have a soul?" She scoffs.
A smirk spreads across my face, my mind going wild, "Oh I do, it's big, and long, and- OW!" I clutch my arm from where she smacked me again chuckling. "You're a perv" She laughs loudly. "Me??? I'm a saint" I feigned innocence, giving her a small pout. "Whatever" She grumbles, crossing her hands over her chest in fake annoyance. I shake my head in laughter at her adorable posture, "You should smile more" I tease.
"Gosh, you sound like a creepy old man" She groans, chuckling. A smile spreads across her beautiful face. I felt a sense of warmth and victory at the fact I made her smile. I flash her a wink, "There's that gorgeous smile" I retort cheekily before putting the Impala in drive. She scoffed a chuckle in response as we drove down the road to Matt's apartment.
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Third Person POV
After getting tired of waiting for Dean and Y/N to get back. Sam decided to indulge in the cheap porn the motel offered, sat on his bed in-front of the crummy old TV, "Next on the Skin Channel. Casa Erotica 4: A Tale of Two Latin Beauties." Sam's ears perked up when he heard the door opening and quickly turned off the TV.
Tossing the remote behind him as Dean and Y/N enter the motel room, their eyes trailed to the tv and back to Sam. "Hey" Sam greeted them awkwardly. Dean and Y/N shared an amused look at this, "What?" Sam feigned confusion as they give him a smug look. "Awkward" Y/N said in a singsong tone.
Sam cringed internally, "Where the hell were you guys?" Sam changed the subject. "Just working our imaginary case" Dean responded in a condescending tone. "Yeah, and...?" Sam asked. "Oh, well, you were right. We didn't find much" Y/N sarcastically responded. "Yeah. Expect Angela's boyfriend died last night, slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal" Deans sarcasm matched Y/N's, Sam sighed, knowing they were still pissed.
"Uh, let's see. What else?" Dean taps his pointer finger to his chin, "Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I'm sure we're just looking for a hunt where there isn't one" Y/N narrows her eyes at her best friend. "Yeah, I'm sure that means we're just transferring our own feelings" Dean adds condescendingly.
Sam chuckled a bit at his brother and best friend's habit to hold a grudge, "Okay guys, I get it. I'm sorry. Maybe there's something" Sam admits as they strip off their jackets. "Maybe?" Dean huffs, turning to his brother. "Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think. And I know well so does Y/N" Dean snaps at Sam.
"We should check out the guys apartment" Sam ignores Deans snapback. "We just came from there" Y/N tells him as she takes off her combat boots on the couch next to Dean. "Pile of dead plants just like the cemetery" Dean informs him. "Hell, dead goldfish too" Y/N scoffs. "So, unholy ground?" Sam queries. "Maybe" Dean sighs.
"I'm still not getting that powerful angry-spirit vibe from Angela" Y/N says, "No chills, no nothing" She adds, leaning back into the couch. "I've been reading this" Dean says, taking out Angela diary from his jacket on the bed and showing it to Sam. "You stole the girls diary?!" Sam is agape, his reaction mirroring Y/N's earlier. "That's exactly what I said" Y/N snorts.
"Yeah, Sam. And if anything, the girls a little too nice" Dean says, flipping through the diary. "So, what do you guys wanna do?" Sam asks them. "We should keep digging, talk to more of her friends" Y/N suggests. "You get any names?" Sam asks her. "Are you kidding me?" Dean smirks. "I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world" He shakes the book in his brothers face before tossing it on Sam's lap.
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"I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors" Angela's friend Neil says suspiciously to Sam, Dean and Y/N. "Oh yeah. Yeah, you talk, we listen. Maybe throw in a therapeutic collage. Whatever helps jumpstart the healing" Dean says in a fake encouraging tone, earning weird looks from Sam and y/n. "Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks." Neil says before turning to walk back in his house.
"Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" Y/N says, Neil then turns back to her. "Yeah, I did" Neil responds. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay. Grief can make people do crazy things" Sam says genuinely. Neil gives them a weird look as Dean and Y/N feign smiles at him. Y/N noticed Neil seemed a bit cold towards the mention of Matt.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself, it wasn't because of grief." Neil says firmly. "No? Then why?" Dean asks curiously. "It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it" Neil informs them. This sent up red flags in their heads. "How was Matt responsible?" Y/N asks in confusion.
"She really loved that guy. But the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl" Neil tells them. Sams eyebrows raised at this is shock as Dean and Y/N listen on. "She was really torn up. That's why she crashed the car " Neil further adds. "Um, look, I gotta get ready for work. So thanks for the concern, but seriously. I'll be okay" He excuses himself, assuring them he'll be fine.
After Neil Walker back in. The trio made their way to the Impala. "Maybe it is a vengeful spirit and you can't feel it Y/N? I mean, hell hath no fury" Dean suggests. "Yeah, you could be right... but I don't know man" Y/N says not convinced. "What else could it possibly be?" Dean asks. Y/N shrugs, stumped. Still not sure how. "So, if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you guys think it's over?" Sam asks them.
"Well, there's one way to be sure" Dean says, opening the drivers side door. Y/N jumps in the back, allowing Sam to take shotgun as Dean hops in the drivers side. "What's that?" Sam asks. "Burn the bones" Dean says. "Burn the bones?" Sam and Y/N say shocked, in unison chuckling. "Are you high, Dean?" Y/N scoffs. Dean gives her a 'Maybe...' face, causing her to roll her eyes.
"Angela died last week" Sam emphasized. "So?" Dean scoffs defensively. "So there's not gonna be bones. There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in a coffin" Y/N further emphasizes, cringing in disgust. "Since when are you two afraid to get dirty, huh?" Dean cocks his eyebrow at them. They look at him in distaste at he puts the Impala in drive, making their way to the cemetery.
Now nightfall, the three hunters are digging up Angela's grave. All grunting as they shovel out the dirt from the six feet deep hole. After hitting the coffin, Dean takes the flashlight along with Sam and flashes it over the fresh coffin. "Ladies first" Dean smirks at Y/N. She rolls her eyes, "Hold that" She shoves her shovel against his chest, Dean takes it as Y/N stoops down to open the top piece of the coffin.
Y/N grunts as she lifts it up, only to reveal and empty coffin. The lights from the boys flashlights shone, the three looking at each other in absolute astonishment. "They buried the body four days ago" Dean says, his eyes wide. "I don't get it" Sam says. "Me neither." Y/N sighed, her eyes then landed on a weird engraving on the inside of the coffin lid.
"Look, shine the light on the lid" She points to it, the boys do just that. All stopping down to take a proper look. "What is that?" Y/N asks. "I'm not sure" Sam says. "I've seen these kinds of symbols before" Dean says in recognition.
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The sun has risen, after they got some sleep. The three hunters did their research and marched right over to Angela's fathers house, Dean pounded his fist harshly on the front doo. "Dean, take it easy. Okay?" Y/N pleads with him, he just huffs. Pounding on the door again, Sam and Y/N share a look of worry at Deans clear aggression. A couple seconds later, Angela's father opens the door.
"You're Angie's friends right?" Dr. Mason smiles at them. "Dr. Mason-" Sam goes to say but Dean cuts him off. "We need to talk" Dean says in a standoffish tone, his face stoic. Dr. Mason seems taken back by this, Sam and Y/N share his look. "Well, then. Come in" Dr. Mason invites them in. "Thanks" Y/N says kindly as they all walk in.
"You teach Ancient Greek. Tell me...what are these?" Dean says a bit angry, pulling out a drawing of the engravings on the coffin. Handing it to Dr. Mason. "I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angela" He says confused. Sam and Y/N take in Dr. Masons body language, for someone they think did something so horrid. He sure seems innocent.
"It does. Please, just humor me" Dean says. Dr. Mason nods, then takes a look down at the paper. "They're part of an Ancient Greek divination ritual" He tells them. "Used for necromancy, right?" Dean narrows his eyes at Dr. Mason. "That's right" Dr. Mason nods, a bit confused by Deans hostility. "See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and didn't a little homework ourselves" Dean begins smugly.
Sam and Y/N look between the two, "Apparently, they use rituals like this one for communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life, full on zombie action" Dean says. "Yeah, I mean. According to the legends." Dr. Mason says firmly, before handing the paper back to Dean. "Now, what's all this about?" He asks Dean.
"I think you know." Dean snatches the paper from his roughly. "Dean" Sam's tone is warning. "Look, I get it. Okay? There are people that I would give anything to see again. But what gives you the right" Dean says accusingly. "Dean!" Y/N pleads with him. "What are you talking about?" Dr. Mason gasps. "What's dead should stay dead!" Dean grunts angrily. "What?!" Dr. Mason gasps again.
"Stop it!" Sam and Y/N yell at Dean. "What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore. These things are vicious. They're violent! They're so nasty, they rot the ground around em. I mean, come on, haven't you seen Pet Cemetery?!" Dean continues to lecture Dr. Mason angrily. Thoughts of his own family coming back to him, of Mary, John, F/N and M/N.
"You're insane" Dr. Mason grits his teeth at Dean, walking over to his table with his landline. "Where is she?" Dean turns to him, continuing to press on the subject. "Get out of my house!" Dr. Mason orders them fearfully, dialing in 911. But Dean snatches the phone from him, "I know you're hiding her somewhere. Where is she!?" Dean shouts, grabbing Dr. Mason by his collar but Sam and Y/N hold him back. "Dean, stop it!" Sam yells.
"That's enough! Dean look!" Y/N turns his face by his chin, using her pointer finger and thumb. "Beautiful, living plants!" She points out to the very much alive plants at the window. "We're leaving" Sam says calmly to Dr. Mason. "I'm calling the police" He growls at them. Dean snatches himself from Sam and Y/N roughly and marched to the door.
"Sir, we're sorry. We won't bother you again" Y/N says apologetically before walking out behind Sam. "What the hells the matter with you, Dean?!" Sam lectures his brother as they all walk towards the Impala. "Back off" Dean grunts. "That man is innocent. He didn't deserve that!" Y/N yells at him. "Okay, so she's not here. Maybe he's keeping her somewhere else" Dean suggests. "Stop it! That's enough, okay! Enough!" Sam snaps.
"Guys, I know what I'm doing!" Dean assured them. "No, you don't. At all!" Sam huffs as they walk down the sidewalk. Dean smirks at this, "Charming, I don't scare easy. But man, you're scaring the crap out of me right now!" Y/N adds, a twinge of fear in her voice. Deans smirk drops, stopping in his tracks. He scared her. That's the last thing he ever wanted.
"Don't be over dramatic, Princess" Dean says calmly. "You're scaring me too Dean!" Sam adds. "We're lucky this turnt out to be a real case. Because if it wasn't, you would've found something else to kill" Y/N gets up into his face. He's taken back by this, "Wha-" He goes to defend himself but she cuts him off. "You're on edge. You're erratic. Except for when you're hunting, because then you're downright scary" She points out the obvious problem.
"You're tailspinning man. And you refuse to talk about it, and you want let me help you" Sam adds frustrated. Dean nods, clench my his jaw, "I can take care of myself, thanks" He grunts, beginning to walk again. "No, you can't! You don't have to handle this on your own, neither do you y/n. No one can" Sam tries to reason with his brother.
"Sam, if you bring up Dad and F/N's deaths one more time-" Dean warns his brother, but y/n stops him. "Stop. Please Dean. I get it, okay? But it's killing you. It's killing all of us. Please" Y/N pleads with him, understanding his pain. He stops in his tracks to turn to his, a look of anguish on his face. "We've already lost Dad and then John. We've lost Mary and then mom" Y/N says calmly. "I've lost Jessica" Sam adds, tears welling up in his eyes.
Deans heart pangs at this, tears welling up in his eyes also. "We can't lose you too" Y/N says a bit pained at the thought of losing him or Sam. Dean huffs a bit, not wanting to talk about this anymore. "We better get out of here before the cops come." He dismisses the subject. Sam and Y/N's faces drop at his dismissal.
"I hear you guys, okay? Yeah, I'm being an ass. And I'm sorry." Dean admits, apologizing. "But right now, we got a fucking zombie running around. And we need to figure out how to kill it" He adds firmly. Sam let's out a humorless chuckle at his sentence, looking over at Y/N. "What?" She asks him confused. "Our lives are weird, man" Sam chuckles unamused.
"You're telling me" Y/N mutters to herself. "Come on" Dean ushers them to the Impala.
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They're all back at the motel, looking for anything in the lore to kill a zombie. "We can't just waste it with a headshot?" Dean asks, pacing the room. "Dude, you've been watching way too many Romero flicks" Y/N scoffs, sat next to Sam in the bed, "So you're telling me there's no lord on how to smoke them?" Dean asks again, a bit frustrated. His hand on his hip as he paces the room.
Dean then walks over to the table and settles in one of the chairs. "No, Dean. We're telling you there's too much" Sam says, getting up to sit at the table with Dean. "I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods of killing them" He adds. "Some say setting them on fire." Y/N begins to list off, also getting up from the bed. She walks over to them, her eyes buried in the book.
"Others say- Where is is?...Right here, feeding their hearts to wild dogs." She scoffs, taking a seat across from the boys. "That's my personal favorite" Sam chuckles. "Mine is drenching them in virgin blood and pig intestines" She chuckles, rolling her eyes at the idiocy. "Who knows what's real and what's myth?" Sam says frustrated, banging the table with his fist. "Is there anything they all have in common?" Dean asks.
"No. But a few said silver might work" Y/N tells him, flipping through the book. "Silvers a start" Dean says hopefully. "Yeah, but how are we gonna find Angela?" Sam asks. "We gotta figure out the person who brought her back" Dean answers. "Any ideas?" Y/N asks them. Dean thinks for a second, "I think if it's not her dad, it might be that guy Neil" Dean says, then getting up from the table.
He walks over to his bed and grabs Angela's diary. "Neil?" Sam says unsure. "Yep" Dean answers. "How'd you come up with that?" Y/N cocks her eyebrow. "Well, you got your journal. I got mine" He smirks, flipping through Angela's diary. He begins to read aloud from it, "Neil's a real shoulder to cry on. He SO understands what I'm going through with Matt" Dean then snaps the book shut.
"There's more in here where that came from. He holds up the book. "That's got unrequited duckie love written all over it" Y/N agrees. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead" Sam says unsure. "Hmm, did I mention he's Professor Masons TA. Has access to all the same books" Dean adds smugly. Y/N leans forward in her seat.
"Impressive" She mutters to herself. Dean smirks at her praise.
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Nightfall came, they're now prying open the door to Neil's house. "Hello?" Dean calls out into the empty dark house. Sam gently shuts the door behind them. "Neil?!" Y/N calls out for Neil. "It's your grief counselors. We've come to hug" Dean says in an amused tone. Y/N holds back a snicker as Sam rolls his eyes. She then pulls out her gun from the back of her jeans.
"Silver bullets?" Sam asks. "Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse" Y/N remarks wittily. The boys look around cautiously as they walk deeper into the house. Y/N draws her gun when Sam notices the dead plants. Drawing their attention to it. They stumble upon a locked door. Sam and Dean go on either side of it as Y/N stands in-front.
Aiming her gun dead-center, they all share a look. "Unless this is where he keeps his porn" Dean mutters. They shrug in respond. Sam then quickly picks the lock and Y/N runs in swiftly, aiming her gun down the stairs the door lead to. The boys follow her down the stairs steadily only to be lead into a basement with a cot on the ground. "Sure looks like a zombie pen to me" Y/N says.
"Yeah. An empty one" Sam agrees, looking around the basement. "Think Angela's going after somebody?" Sam asks them as Dean walks over to a tiny window with a wooden cover. He lightly touched it and it came hanging down on one side. "Nah, I think she went to rent beaches" He sarcastically remarked.
Y/N rolls her eyes at his untimely humor, "Look, smartass. She might kill someone" Sam snaps back. "We gotta find her fellas" Y/N urges. Dean nods and closes back the window, "Yeah" He sighs. "Alright, she uh, clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?" Dean began to think. "Yeah" Sam and Y/N answered. "Well, it takes two to, you know...have hardcore sex" He shrugs as Y/N shakes her head at his choice of words and Sam cringes.
A thought pops into y/n's head, "You know....it seemed that Angela's roommate was pretty broken up over Matt's death" Y/N suggests, giving Dean a knowing look. "Yeah, she was really broken up" He adds. Looking over at Sam who still seemed confused. "What do you- OH!" It took him a second but where they were coming from hit him like a truck.
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Y/N's POV
The boys and I headed straight to Lindsey and Angela's house. The second we broke in, we saw Angela holding Lindsey by her neck with a sharp pair of scissors in her hand ready to stab her friend. I drew out my gun and pushed the boys behind me, aiming straight at her back since she was turnt away from me.
Shooting twice, the gunshots rung loudly throughout the dark house, Angela screamed in pain along with Lindsey, stumbling back. She turnt swiftly to me which resulted in me emptying my clip into her chest but she was still standing. Angela ran through the door so me and Dean ran behind her but she was already gone.
Same stayed behind to console Lindsey, "Damn, that dead chick can run" Dean mutters to Sam as we go back into the house, both of us out of breathe. "What now?" Sam asks panicked. "I saw we go have a little chat with Neil" I suggest.
Now driving to head over to the college, "So the silver bullets, they did something right?" Sam asks me. "Yeah, something. But not enough" I grumble. "What else you got?" Dean asks Sam. "Um..." Sam responds, opening the book we were reading from earlier. "Okay, besides silver, we have nailing the undead back into their grave beds. It's mentioned a few time. It's probably where the whole vampire-staking lore came from" He reads from the book, explains to us.
"Their grave beds? You serious?" Dean scoffs. "Yeah" Sam sighs nodding. "How the hell are we gonna get Angela back to the cemetery?" I ask frustrated, leaning back into the backseat.
We eventually made it to college, luckily, the door was unlocked. Neil was at his desk, his eye widen in fear when he saw up. "What are you guys doing here?" He asks us a bit fearfully and confused. Sam locked the door as Dean begun to speak, "You know, I've heard of some people doing some pretty desperate thing to get laid, but you..." Dean clicks his tongue, "You take the cake" Dean chuckles darkly as me and Sam glare at Neil.
"Okay, who are you guys?" Neil asks us shakily. "You might wanna ask Angela that question" I growl at him. "What?" He feigns confused, earning a disgusted scoff from Sam. "We know what you did" Sam narrows his eyes at him, shaking his head. "The ritual. Everything" Sam adds. Neil shakes his head chuckling, "Crazy" He scoffs.
This just adds to the fuel of rage I was feeling, "Your girlfriends past her expiration date, and we're crazy?" I lean down towards him, getting in his face. My tone unamused, "When someone gone, they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff" Dean adds, his tone matching mine. "Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey" Sam growls, his tone matching ours.
Neil forces a confused look still, "I don't know what you're talking about" He continues to deny it. Dean snapped and reached over his desk, pulling him over it by his collar, "Hey!" Neil yelps fearfully, "No more crap, Neil. His blood is on your hands!" Dean growls in his face. "Now, we can make this right, but you gotta tell us where she us" I say calmly, Neil doesn't answer so Dean shakes his roughly.
"Tell us!" He yells at Neil who's shaking with fear. "My house. She's at my house" Neil breathes out. Dean let's him go and nods, he goes turn to leave with us but I stop him because my eyes flickered over to the dead plants on Neil's desk. "You sure about that?" I grit my teeth at Neil, he nods shakily but I'm not convinced. Dean gives me a 'Wtf?' look so I using my eyes, I dart them towards the dead plants.
His face drops angrily, his eyes flickering over to the door. "Listen, it doesn't really matter where she is. There's only one way to stop her" Dean begins to lie, the both of us walking over towards Sam. "We've gotta perform another ritual over her grave. The reverse the one that you did" He continues to say. "We're gonna need some black weed, some scar root, some candles." I add, looking over at Sam who is beyond confused as to why we're lying.
I do the same thing I did with Dean, using my eyes to draw Sam's attention to the dead plants. His eyes widen but quickly reciprocates, "It's very complicated but it'll get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple hours" Dean says. "I think you should come with us" I tell Neil. "No...no" Neil meekly says, shaking his head. "We're serious, Neil. Leave with us, right now" Dean says to him warningly but he still shakes his head. I lean in closer to whisper to Neil.
"Listen to me. Get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool. No sudden movements. Don't make her mad" I warn him, giving him a fake smile before turning to the boys. "Let's go" Dean says to us. While we were walking back to the Impala, I scoffed shaking my head. "Demons I get, but people are fucking crazy" I grumble, repeating Deans words from last year when Sam got kidnapped by those psycho hillbillies.
"Amen" Sam sighs in agreement as Dean put the impala in drive, backing out of the parking lot so we could head over to the cemetery. While on the way, the boys and I concocted a plan, hoping it'll work.
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"You guys really think this is gonna work?" Sam asks us. We're all lighting candles around Angela's grave to do the 'ritual'. "No, not really" Dean admits. "But it was the only thing we could come up with" I add, lighting the candle. The rustling of some leaves not too far away caught our attention, our heads darted to the same direction. Closing up my lighter, Sam draws his gun from the back of his jeans.
Aiming it in the distance, heading towards the sound of the rustling. Me and Dean moved over behind some headstones to conceal ourselves. Not long after, the sound of a gunshot ringing out made me and Dean a bit startled. I drew out my gun along with him when we heard running towards us. We saw Sam running from Angela, who had a bullet wound in her forehead. Sam tripped when Angela caught up to him.
Grabbing him by his shoulder, straddling him from behind. She held his neck, ready to snap it so me and Dean took instant action and shot straight at her. Angela jump off of Sam, near the grave so we emptied our clips into her. The last shot she collected, landed her straight into her grave. Dean and I ran over in a bolt with Dean wielding the blade to nail her back in his hand.
Dean jumped into the grave, straddled and stabbed her without hesitation. "Wait don't!" Angela pleaded but soon fell dead again as Dean sunk the blade further into her. "What's dead should stay dead" Dean growls.
Morning came and the boys and I were just finished recovering Angelas grave. Patting the dirt with the back of our shovels. "Rest in peace" Sam mutters. "Yeah, for good this time, okay?" I add out of breath. I picked up the duffel bag from the ground and Dean took my shovel from me as Sam threw his over his shoulder.
"You know, the whole fake-ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery....pretty sharp you two came up with that so in sync on the spot" Sam compliments us, impressed. "Thanks" Dean smirks. "Yeah, appreciate it" I smile, "But did we have to use me as bait?" Sam chuckles. Me and Dean laugh along at this, "Figured you were more her type. She had pretty crappy taste in guys" Dean quipped back.
I bursted out laughing at this, "I think she broke my hand." Sam mutters in pain. "You're just too fragile" Dean jokes. "Don't worry Sammy, we'll get it looked at later" I pat his shoulder. Dean then turns to look at Mary's grave, a bit of anguish and pain in his eyes. My heart pained for him. Sam and I share a look at this, "You wanna stay for a while?" I ask him gently.
Dean took a second to answer but he said, "No" before turning back, the three of us make our way to Baby. Tossing our stuff into the trunk. Then jumping into our respective seats.
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We were driving down the empty road, Dean with a clear look of frustration on his face. Sam and I chose not to say anything, not wanting to anger him further. He then suddenly stopped the car at the side of the road, getting out, he harshly slammed the door shut. Sam and I shared a look before getting out. Dean sat on the impalas hood, deep in thought, anguish etched over his face.
"Dean, what is it?" Sam asks concerned. "I'm sorry, guys" Dean says sincerely to us after a long pause. We're both taken back by this, "For what?" I ask a bit confused. "The way I've been acting." Dean sighs painfully, I then moved to take a seat next to him on the hood and Sam sat next to me, sandwiching me between the two of them,
"And for Dad" Dean adds, tears welling up in his pain stricken eyes. Our heads darted over to him, "He was your dad too. And it's my fault that he's gone" His head drops to his feet. "What are you talking about?" Sam shakes his head in disbelief. "I know you guys have been thinking it. So have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out" Dean mutters.
My gaze drops to my hands, "Back at the hospital, you know, full recovery. It was a miracle" He turned to us, "And five minutes later, Dad's dead and the Colt's gone" Dean continues. "Dean-" I try to assure him it's not his fault but he cuts me off.
"You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down, exactly. But dads dead because of me, and he gave up the thing that f/n died getting to save me. That much I do know" Dean says solemnly, his hands stuffed in his jacket. My heart panged at the mention of my father.
"We don't know that. Not for sure" Sam tries to comfort him but Dean shakes his head, "Sam. You two, dad and f/n....you're the most important people in my life" Dean admits, a tears threatening to roll out of his eyes. My heart swelled at this, "And now, I never should've come back. It wasn't natural. And now look what come of it" Dean shakes his head.
"I was dead, and I should've stayed dead." Deans lip quivers, "You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it....so tell me" Dean looks over at us. "What could you possibly say to make that alright?" He sobs, his beautiful face now drenched. My breath hitched in my throat, a lump grew from seeing him so pained.
Sam couldn't answer and neither could I. Gently, I laid my head on his shoulder, linking my arm into his. Trying to comfort him, I clasped my hand into his. My thumb caressed his knuckles as he laid his cheek against the top of my head. The dampness from his tears soaking my hair and he shook, sobbing. We all sat there, mourning the loss of our fathers as we looked out into the mountains.
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Authors Note: Surprise again!! I know it’s random but I thought it would be nice to do part of an episode in Deans POV for once, get a bit of his perspective lol. I was nervous to write in his POV mainly because I don’t think I could get into his head as good….you know?? Lol.
Anyways, does everyone like the new cover??? I made it myself and I’m so proud! Because I’ve never edited in my life🤣😭this took me TWO HOURS. That’s a lot for me because I’m very lazy XD. Hope you guys like it, I tried to let it match the theme of the first five seasons since I’m going to be splitting the series into three books on Wattpad, five seasons each because Wattpad only allows 200 chapters per book.
Besides the point, hope you guys enjoyed. Thank you so much for your support and note that this chapter is unedited.
Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19 @deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur
Xoxo
#dean winchester#spn#supernatural#sam winchester#dean and sam#sam and dean#dean winchester fanfiction#supernatural fandom#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#spnfandom#supernatural tv show#supernatural fanfiction#dean x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#x reader#the winchester brothers#supernatural reader insert
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STAYING IN TWISTED WONDERLAND
Y/n signed as she paced around her living room, stressing about the meeting with all of her friends this afternoon. {flashback to monday} Crowley had finally gotten off his lazy butt and found her a way home, “I'll give you until next monday to decide, and to say goodbye” Crowley said as he waved y/n out of his office. As y/n stood outside his door, her mind was racing so many thoughts ran through her head, she had just been adopted by crewel only a few days ago and she hadn't told anyone yet. Y/n slowly walked to her fathers classroom, even though it's her choice and she has her heart set on one answer she would still like her fathers opinion. After a few minutes y/n had found herself infront of her fathers classroom door, before slowly reaching up to knock on the door. “Enter” her fathers voice said behind the classroom door, which she slowly opened the door and stepped in before shutting the door behind her silently “ah hello pup! I was going to track you down after I got done grading these tests, I want to take you shopping!” Crewel said with a smile as he looked up from the paper he was grading, y/n pulled up a chair “papa i need to talk to you about a conversation Crowley and I just had” y/n said as she sat down “ Do i need to get violent with a crow?” crewel asked putting his pen down, y/n laughed slightly before shaking her head “not today papa” y/n replied Crewel turned his chair to face his daughter he gently took her hands in his “what’s wrong pup?” Crewel asked his voice filled with concern y/n took a deep breath before speaking “Crowley found a way for me to go back to my world, he’s giving me until next monday to decide” Y/n felt Crewel freeze up she looked up at her father to see his gray eyes wide and started to fill up with tears. Crewel lowered his head “the choice is yours i’ll be happy for you no matter what.” Crewel spoke with a shaky voice. “Dad I have a week to decide I'm not going to tell my friends until Sunday but-” y/n started before leaning and whispering into crewel's ear. Crewel gasped tears falling from his eyes before hugging her tightly. {end of flashback}
The week went by like normal y/n went to unbirthday partys, Spelldrive tournaments, helping out at the Mostro Lounge, helping jamil prepare for parties kalim threw, suffering with epel as Vil rants as rook chuckles behind them, gaming with Idia,Ortho and Lilia, Pranking sebek with ace and grim, falling asleep beside silver under a random tree, and late night walks with malleus. Sunday had finally came around faster than y/n was ready for but today was the day so y/n had gone around to all of her friends telling them to come by the ramshack tonight at 5pm, telling them it was very important and EVERYONE needed to be there.
Grim yelling y/ns name had brought her out of her thoughts “y/n! Henchmen someone at the door!” grim yelled y/n quickly went to the door and opened it seeing everyone heck even Idia was here in person “Yall came!” y/n smiled as she opened the door wider as she stepped aside welcoming everyone in “of course shrimpy!” Floyd said as he picked her up and brought her in for a tight hug y/n laughed as floyd carried her to the living room as everyone else followed in close pursuit. Soon everyone was seated in the living room looking at y/n who was standing in the middle of the room “so child of man I’m happy to be included, but why have you called us here all of a sudden?” Malleus asked y/n sighed “ok i have something important to tell all of you but i need you all to promise to stay quiet until i am done ok?” y/n said looking at all her friends Everyone nodded agreeing with her terms y/n took a deep breath before looking at all her friends before starting to speak “so on monday crowley called me into his office and he had told me he had found a way for me to go home and he gave me until monday aka tomorrow to make my decision” everyone froze and stared at y/n with wide eyes “I didn’t want to stress anyone out so i didn’t tell anyone about it, i wanted this week to be normal.” y/n had sat down beside a tearful grim “and i wanted you all here to hear what i had decided” y/n said looking at her friends everyone was looking down ready to be heartbroken “I’m staying here” y/n said with a smile “WAIT WHAT?!” Everyone yelled y/n laughed “Professor Crewel and I had this conversation on Monday grim and I will be living with him because he had adopted me last friday.” y/n said hugging grim “i already wanted to stay here i guess i just needed more of a secret push from you all” y/n said ace got up and walked over to her “You jerk! You worried everyone!” ace growled as he punched y/n in the arm y/n just laughed. Everyone was happy y/n was staying, everyone took turns hugging y/n. She was staying in twisted wonderland because of them.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst x y/n#twst wonderland#chubby reader#disney twst#female y/n#twst comfort#twst x reader#twisted wonderland imagines#disney twisted wonderland#twst heartslabyul#twst savanaclaw#twst octavinelle#twst scarabia#twst pomefiore#twst ignihyde#twst diasomnia#twst papa crewel#my original writing
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Twisted Wonderland Incorrect Quotes 20
Yuu & Malleus: walking together
Bully: points at Yuu You look unattractive >:D
Bully: Drives off in bike HAHAHAHA!
Yuu: D':>
Malleus: >:0 …
Bully: still driving away on bike Nothing better than bullying without consequences >:3
Malleus: Teleports in front of his bike
Bully: HUH!?-
Malleus: grabs the bully by the face and let's the guys bike crash
Bully: scared shitless OAO'////
Malleus: calm angry … I'm gonna need you to apologize…
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Mrs. Shroud: Your Grounded Young man D:<
Mrs. Shroud: No going out for a month >:(
Idia: Really?! OwO
Mrs. Shroud: Yeah and no leaving your room either >:(
Idia: SWEET!
Mrs. Shroud: And no electronics UvU
Idia: reading manga Your the boss :D *closes the door
Mrs. Shroud: >A> !?
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General Lilia: HEY! Wake up! >:D
Human! Y/N: Jerjogsejgwe! >A>'///
General Lilia: I just murdered your entire family! >:D
Human! Y/N: B-But I live alone OmO'///
General Lilia: Wah?! Then who are these people in your house?! >m>
Human! Y/N: There's People in my house?! OAO'////
General Lilia: Well not ANYMORE! D:<
General Lilia: DUMB BITCH! D:<
General Lilia: YOU COULD HAVE DIED! D:<
General Lilia: gives middle finger Your Welcome >:( leaves
Human! Y/N:… WTF?! OAO
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Yuu: Dad can I turn up the heat up? :D
Crewel: Don't touch the thermastat Yuu your father gets upset U_U
Yuu: Come on this thing goes up to 90 =v= turns dial
Crowley: PUT BACK THE THERMASTAT!!! D:<
Yuu: EEP! OAO
Crewel: told you =n=
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Yuu: how the hell did you get over here? :0
Malleus-Tsum: panic squeaks OMO'////
Yuu: you ran all the way here ._.
Malleus-Tsum: squeaks yes >m<'///
Yuu: That's a good 2 or 3 blocks OnO
Malleus-Tsum: squeaks he knows
Yuu: please tell me you weren't followed >.>'///
Malleus-Tsum: squeaks he was ;n;
Yuu: You were? =n='///
Malleus-Tsum: squeaks yeah ;m;
Dragon! Malleus: angry knocks with claws on Yuu's front door
Malleus-Tsum: EEEEEEKKKKK!!! hides
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Floyd: Coffee boys?
Ace: I'm good
Jamil: I have tea so it's fine =v=
Floyd: more for me! UvU
Floyd: I hate this part put coffee beans in mouth >m<
Floyd: puts the hot water in his mouth and is screaming in pain
Ace & Jamil: FLOYD NO!!! OmO'////
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Gn! Yuu: Finally my very own money X>
Gn! Yuu: The world is my oyster! >:3
Gn! Yuu: I can finally really start living >X>
GN! Yuu: spends it all on anime stuff I'm living the big life XD
--------------------------------------------------------
Malleus: turns on his computer and it breaks OMG! H-Hello!? OAO
----later----
Idia: Dude here's what I recommend you do…cause clearly you've been having trouble with the double computer set up for like- =-=
Malleus: No the dual PC is great I haven't had like a single problem with it yet >v>'///
Lilia: what do you mean you've never had a problem with it!? Explain all the reasons why you need Idia to be your F*cking Tech Support!?! D:<
Idia: and I'm not even good at it =n=
Lilia: Idia your the only one he needs but like you gotta use smaller words for him. Don't use the words RAM or CPU he'll get confused =v=
Malleus; Ram is memory and CPU is how computer run right? :D
Lilia, Idia, and Yuu; >.>' ....
Idia: *pinching the bridge of his nose* do you use google chrome?
Malleus: I use the basic built in internet-
Idia: What....Stop... >:(
Lilia: What does that mean? >n>
Idia: You use internet edge? >n>
Malleus: Edge yeah :D
Yuu: NOOOOOOOOO!!
Lilia: YOU USE MICROSOFT EDGE?! D:<
Malleus: *akward laughing*
Yuu: Idia. Can you go to Malleus's house and open up his computer and make sure he didn't put beans or something in there please? =m=
Idia: *Dead pan stare* So...Before Edge Did you just use the internet explorer
Malleus: :0 ....
Idia: Brooooooo....nooooo=m=
Malleus: *awkward laugh* <XD
#twisted wonderland#twst ocs#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#ace trappola#twst incorrect quotes#idia shroud#floyd leech#jamil viper#dire crowley#divus crewel
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ℭ𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱
Part 4:
Part 3:<
“If there was one thing I learned about your father, is that he had the worst work ethic I’ve ever seen.”
“You knew my Dad?”
“Mhm, always trying to slither his way out of doing the work the elders gave him, it was only ever when he personally wanted to work towards something that he’d put quite the effort.”
Charlie looked down at the floor, looking as though she was deep in thought after hearing your words. You wondered if possibly you had offended her, talking about lucifer in such a way.
“Sorry, but my Dad’s busy at the moment. Y’know, being the King of Hell and what not.. He asked me to attend to the meeting instead.”
You looked down, following Charlie’s gaze to see her fidgeting with her fingers under the table. Due to her reluctancy, you could sense something was up. Did Lucifer drop out of the meeting to avoid you? Did he even know you were the one attending? You couldn't imagine that after so many years he'd try to simply avoid you like that, and instead send over his daughter to pick up the work for him. If you could easily get over what happened so many eons ago so should he. Despite Charlie's hesitance, you made it clear you were being stubborn on the matter.
"Buut he is staying over at the Hotel for now, if you came over he would surely be there."
Walking through the portal you made, both you and the princess found yourselves in the hotel. Once entering, rich, crimson walls envelop all around you as the crystal chandelier above with gold fittings hang from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden light that complements the rich red tones. The chandelier not only being used as a light source, but a decorative central piece of the lobby. Before you stood the reception desk, possibly crafted from dark mahogany wood with a crimson leather inlay and gold detailing. Behind the desk, a large, backlit panel showcases an exquisite piece of art in gold, depicting a serene landscape that contrasts beautifully with the vibrant red surroundings. One artwork that particularly caught your eye was a portrait of the newly ascended sinner you had just met merely yesterday afternoon, you took down a mental note to ask Charlie about it later.
To the left of the room was occupied with an elegant bar made with the same details as the front desk, a rich, dark mahogany counter that boasts a glossy finish. The front of the bar is adorned with crimson leather panels while the barstools are high and plush, upholstered in deep crimson velvet with a golden trim. The bar lights shone the same warm toned light as the main chandelier, keeping that same warm and inviting glow over that casted down at the bar and the shelves behind it that were lined with different kinds of spirits, wines, and liquors. While observing the intricate designs of the room, you didn't notice until that it had a couple demons occupied at the bar, one behind the bar while there was two sat before him. You only noticed when you had all three of them completely gawking at you, making you feel really awkward and uncomfortable.
"Wow Charlie, this place looks stunning. Even with magic I can't believe you built all this in a day"
"Yeah, I guess having the Devil as your dad has a few perks."
As you and Charlie both laughed at the joke, you could still feel those same eyes burning a hole at your back that was turned to them. Feeling uncomfortable, you tried keeping up conversation about the hotel while fidgeting where you stood, refusing to move and risking making eye contact with the men behind you. As you were fidgeting with a feather attached to your wings, you realised that you were an angel. An angel sent from heaven with huge ass wings that reached to the floor, and that is probably the leading reason as to why you had three demons gawking behind you. While in thought, Charlie had stopped talking and looked up enthusiastically right behind you, where you could definitely feel a demonic presence behind you.
"Alastor! I am so so so SO happy to introduce you to Y/N, she's here from heaven to learn more about the Hotel!"
Instantly turning behind you, you were faced with a tall man who had quite a slim build and a huge ass devilish grin that stretched across his face. His hair is dark with red streaks, styled in a neat, vintage wave and he was clearly dressed in 1930's attire, featuring a long red coat with black and crimson stripes, a high collar, and matching red gloves.
"It's quite evident she's from Heaven my dear! Though sending down angels that weren't exterminators is very out of the ordinary."
If it wasn't his appearance that got to you first, it definitely would be his voice. The static of his voice was enough to irritate you.
"I wasn't sent down here, I came here out of my accord"
Alastor's smile just got wider and way more creepy when hearing you came here on your own. You couldn't decipher what he meant by it. That smile was like the demons very own poker face.
"Alastor here is the hotels Hotelier and top manager, after me of course. He's helped a lot around here and I'd honestly be lost without him."
"Why Charlie my dear there's no need to talk so highly of me! What I do here is merely the bare minimum, wouldn't you agree little angel?"
Oh you could see the resemblance in tone straight away, the condescension was wayy to similar to Sera's, and it quite literally gave you the ick. You hardened your gaze towards him, about to respond when instead you were interrupted by the two other demons making themselves known, introducing themselves to you. One was a twinky, tall, fuck ass demon like Alastor, resembling a spider and a lot more easier to talk to. He was the only other resident that was staying here with Sir Pentious before he quote on quote "died". The demon that was behind the bar was the Hotels barkeep. He was significantly shorter than the others, but was also significantly taller than you too. Both of them were quite fun to talk to and didn't have annoying as fuck glitchy voices, which helped in terms of you being able to graciously join in the conversation. Whilst in the midst of talking to the others, you noticed Charlie was on the phone to someone and you were praying to God she wasn't calling down Lucifer. That's a type of awkwardness you couldn't deal with at the moment. However, instead a young girl came down walking down the stairs and she had a pair of wings??...
"Hey babe, how did that meeting-"
She completely stopped talking and just stood there, staring at you. Everyone is the room had gone silent, waiting for one of us to say something.
This is so awkward.
Her gaze hardened towards you as you just stood there, too scared of breaking the thick tension in the room.
"Why the fuck are you here?!"
"Do I know you?"
You can admit that the weird, possible angel, did look familiar to you but overall you couldn't you a name to the face. She scoffed in response, crossing her arms in front of her as she continued to just stand there..
"Uhm...Vaggie-"
"VAGINA! Yesss I remember you now, it's been a while how have you been?"
Angel and Husk behind you start hollering with laughs, Charlie however looks absolutely horrified and alastor just stood there with the same weird grin on his face. Vaggie stood there, vexed as hell giving you the biggest death glare.
"My names Vaggie. You know this Y/N."
"Noo what I know is that I was there when Adam named you, and he did in fact name you Vagina, which I'll continue to refer to you as."
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