Warning: This has a little of everything. Angsty hunt, fluffy makeup, and Impala smut. You know, the works.
A/N: So I don’t know what the hell happened but this one just took on a massive life of its own.
I combined the following two requests: Anonymous said: Hi! First of all I love your blog! I was wondering if I could request a smut/angst deanxreader fic where they’re both hunters and have been dating and she has to flirt for info on a case with a sleazy guy and dean gets riled up and jealous? Thanks! AND Anonymous said: If you have fic requests open I would love a fluffy smutty comfort fic with dean after a particularly bad hunt.
Hope you both like it! Enjoy!
“A ghost? Seriously? All the way to South Dakota, for a ghost?”
“Yeah! I want something fun and easy. We can go bug Bobby after too. Plus, I think Sam is taking that case in Minnesota, so he can meet up with us after.”
Dean just shrugged and finished filling up Baby. “Fine by me. It’s pretty messed up though that a ghost is something that’s ‘fun and easy’.”
“True,” you laughed as you shifted in your seat, “but then again, our lives are pretty messed up, so there’s that.”
Dean laughed, leaning across the seat to kiss you sweetly before revving Baby to life and screeching out of the gas station.
Hey there beautiful!! Could you write some Shance for "things you said with too many miles between us" please? <3
“Hi, you’ve reached Takashi Shirogane, Garrison Pilot, SG-Class. Please leave your name, number, and a detailed message and I will return your call as soon as possible.”
Lance’s breath shook before he could even force any words out. He was being stupid; they hadn’t even been dating for very long before Shiro left on the Kerberos Mission. He just missed his voice. Part of him wanted to hang up and call back again, just to listen to Shiro’s voicemail greeting.
He jumped when he heard the sharp beep that indicated his message was recording. Lance exhaled in a gusty whoosh of breath and searched for something to say.
“Hey, Shiro,” he started. He picked at the hem of his shirt as he flopped back on his bed. “The Garrison doesn’t feel the same without your shining presence here.”
Lance broke off with a weak laugh, trying to put on his usual front. It died off quickly.
“Sorry, uh,” he paused to clear his throat, “I miss you. I know it’s a little silly, it’s not like we were in love or anything. I just…I miss you. I hope you’re safe and enjoying the view of the stars. My view of them isn’t quite the same without you by my side.”
He traced his lips with the pads of his fingertips and pressed gently, trying to imitate the last time Shiro kissed him before he left. “I know what you’d say: Lance, you’re being dramatic,” he said, imitating Shiro’s voice. “Well, maybe. Cut me some slack, I miss my handsome boyfriend, okay?”
Lance’s hands shook as he jabbed his fingers against the dial pad on his cell phone. The report had only been released an hour ago, but he had to—he couldn’t just—
His breath caught in his throat as Shiro’s voice sounded in his ear.
“Hi, you’ve reached Takashi Shirogane, Garrison Pilot, SG-Class. Please leave your name, number, and a detailed message and I will return your call as soon as possible.”
Lance swallowed thickly, his heart jumping into his throat. It wasn’t real, Shiro wasn’t—there was no way the Garrison didn’t know more. He would know; he would feel it if Shiro was gone, wouldn’t he?
The end-recording signal sounded before Lance could even say anything. He clutched the phone in a grip that was too tight and was surprised when he saw wet splashes landing on his screen. He reached up and swiped at his eyes—oh. He was crying.
Once it started he couldn’t stop the flood of emotion that crashed through him. He collapsed against his bed and sobbed into his pillow, hyperventilating in painful, broken gasps until Hunk found him an hour later, exhausted and drained. His thumb was still hovering over the redial button, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Hi, you’ve reached Takashi Shirogane, Garrison Pilot, SG-Class. Please leave your name, number, and a detailed message and I will return your call as soon as possible.”
Lance sighed heavily and tossed his arm across his eyes to block out the early morning sunshine. It had been months since he called to hear Shiro’s voice, but he had news he wanted to tell him.
“Hi,” he said in a thin voice. “Uh—the Garrison they…they said you were dead.”
Lance paused to swallow the bile that always rose in his throat when he thought about it directly.
“I don’t really buy it, but there isn’t much I can do at the moment, other than hope that you’re okay, wherever you are. I made fighter class,” he admitted with a twitch of a smile. He frowned after a moment. “Um, they kicked your friend Keith out for insubordination or something. I heard he got in a fight with Iverson.”
Lance moved his arm to rub a hand over his face. “They gave me his spot, I guess.”
He let the line go quiet for a moment and sighed when the end-recording signal sounded.
Lance’s life slowly returned to a semblance of normality over the year that Shiro was missing. When he was having hard days, he called Shiro’s voicemail. When he had something exciting to tell him, he called. He had the greeting memorized by now. Even though it was bittersweet to listen to it, it always felt comforting to listen to his voice.
He waited while he listened to the line ringing.
“Hi, you’ve reached Takashi Shirogane, Garrison Pilot, SG-Class. Please leave your name, number, and a detailed message and I will return your call as soon as possible.”
Lance waiting for the recording signal so he could leave a message. A different one than he was used to sounded instead.
“What?” Lance frowned and held the phone away from his face.
“This message box is full. If you are the owner of this message box, please archive your messages to be able to receive incoming messages again.”
Lance’s heart dropped into his stomach like a stone plummeting to the depths of a lake. No, no no no. Lance’s thoughts raced frantically as he re-dialed Shiro’s number. For the first time ever, he listened impatiently to Shiro’s voicemail greeting and got the same error message about the inbox being full. Lance felt tears well up in his eyes; his throat closed up and he collapsed weakly in a defeated slump.
Without Shiro’s voicemail, it really did seem like he was gone.
—– *clutches chest* this turned out so angsty, I’m sorry? ;A; I also made up Shiro’s pilot class (SG stands for Star Galactic here) because I have no idea about military rankings.
Also, obligatory statement: Lance is 18/19, Shiro is 21/22.
Draco poured himself a glass of his favorite whiskey, and walked into his and Harry’s living room. He grabbed his cellular device, that Harry had insisted upon him getting, so they could keep in contact easier when Harry was on a particularly long raid or when Draco was trying to track down a rare ingredient for his potions.
Draco sighed, looking at it and then dialed his husband’s number, putting it on speakerphone because he never put muggle technology that close to his face.
Harry didn’t pick up, and instead his voice rang throughout the room when his voicemail picked up, “Hi, you’ve reached Harry Malfoy, I can’t come to the phone right now,”
Draco’s lips twitched into a smile, as it always did when he heard Harry call himself a Malfoy.
“If this is Hermione, please limit your message to less than four minutes, I really don’t have time to listen to you read me your new book,
If this is Ron… Come on, I know we have lunch plans and chess on Tuesday, you don’t need to remind me every week, I will call you if I can’t be there,”
Draco snorted into his glass as he took another sip of his whiskey.
“If this is Ginny, congratulations on whatever match you just won! But please stop trying to make me deaf by screaming in my ear,
If this is Luna, my Quibbler subscription is still active, tell your dad I said hi,
If this is Nevile, um… I’m sure that new plant is awesome, can’t wait to see it,”
Draco rolled his eyes, he heard all the sarcasm dripping from the message to Longbottom, but he knew that the poor Professor would never get it.
“If this is Draco,”
Draco looked at the phone again at the laughing tone in his husband’s voice, and could picture the huge grin plastered on his face.
“I’m okay, don’t worry, I’m eating just fine and no baddies have gotten me yet. Make sure you turned off the stove after dinner, I know you forget sometimes when your mind is on the potion you’re working on, which is always.
I’ll be home soon, I love you.”
Draco could no longer hold back his sob, and it tore through his entire body at the last two statements, almost making him drop his glass. He looked over at the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, sitting next to each other on the coffee table, both blaring the titles “THE BOY WHO LIVED, KILLED IN THE LINE OF DUTY”
Draco felt another sob rip through him and he hung up the phone, setting down his glass and with shaking hands he re-dialed Harry’s number, knowing that Harry would never again answer his phone, but that listening to his voicemail was the only way that he could ever hear Harry’s voice uttering the words,
Jungkookie or hoseok with the very last one on the list (whichever you feel is best) it seems super sweet and I feel like both of them would do it without a second thought -E.M.
Anon, my dear, you just made me get the worst jungkook feels. i really feel hobi would just call the police and tell reader to stay on the line tho, whereas jungkook would be the one to actually spring into action like “I GOT IT”
“it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and
there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i
found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my
best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the
wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au
Walking home from work after a late shift was never your favorite thing to do, and you doubted it ever would be. Especially now, considering you’ve seen the same figure in a dark hoodie following you for the past ten minutes.
Growing panicked, you picked up the pace, your heart leaping into your throat when the figure followed your lead. All the shops were closed this late at night, the only light coming from a phone booth just ahead of you. Darting inside, you locked the door and picked up the phone with shaky hands, watching the unknown person slow to a stop near a stoplight a few meters away. He was significantly closer now than when you had first began running, and you shuddered at the thought of what may have happened had they caught you.
You did your best to dial your best friend’s number, the silence of the world around you making the dial tone seem deafening. When it finally picked up and you heard the groggy voice of a man just woken from sleep the knot in your stomach tightened, and you prayed that it was just her new boyfriend.
“Hello?” The man asked, yawning right after. You pursed your lips as the you felt the burn of tears against your eyes.
“Is Eunmi there?” You quietly inquired, doing your best to keep your voice level. Your efforts didn’t come to much, and you didn’t doubt the panic lacing into your voice made it through the phone to the man on the other end.
There was a long pause on the other end, the only thing reassuring you that the man didn’t hang up being the sound of his breathing.
“I think you’ve got a wrong number.” He told you. You struggled to suppress the sob trying to break it’s way from you at his answer. “But you don’t sound all that great. Are you okay?”
“I- I was on my way home from work and someone followed me all the way to the phone booth and I was trying to dial my friend’s number but my hands were shaking so bad I guess I accidentally called you and I- I’m sorry. I’m really scared.” You blurted in one quick breath, a few tears escaping you as you explained your situation to the stranger.
“Is he still there? Where are you?” The man questioned, now sounding much more awake. You nodded, only belatedly realizing he couldn’t see.
“He’s been standing maybe four meters away since I locked myself in here. I’m in the phone booth in front of Bok Chicken. In Seoul.” You could faintly hear the man murmur something before replying to you.
“I’m near there. I’ll be there in a few minutes to get you, okay? Just stay there. What’s your name? I’m Jungkook.”
“Alright. I’ll be there soon.” And the line went dead.
Now feeling more vulnerable than ever without someone on the other end of the phone, you hung it back up on the stand before curling up on the floor of the booth, head on your knees. You weren’t sure how great of an idea it was to rely on the help of a stranger you accidentally dialed, but you used the last of your change to make the botched call and your cell was dead, so you couldn’t just re-dial the police. You didn’t know what else you could do at this point without leaving the phone booth and essentially delivering yourself to the shady figure stalking you.
You don’t know how much time passes before there’s knocking on the glass, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You look up to see another man in a black hoodie, but with the bottom of a long white shirt peeking out from it and still donning pajama pants. The hood is up and he’s wearing a mask, but his wide eyes seem to bore into your soul.
“Y/N! It’s Jungkook!” He informs. You rise back to your feet and unlock the door, seeing the creepy person who had been following you with their back to you, already walking away. You release a breath, and with it comes tears of relief.
Jungkook shoots a look over his shoulder and juts his chin in the direction of the dark-clothed person.”Is that who was following you?”
You nod, wiping your cheeks vigorously with your sleeve to rid yourself of the water trails painting them. Jungkook nods, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders as he tells you he’ll walk you home if you just lead the way.
The rest of the trip to your apartment is uneventful, and your savior does his best to keep your mind off of the situation that led him to you. You invite him inside for a drink once you arrive, but Jungkook politely declines, citing the fact that he didn’t want to put you off as reason why. When you insist on repaying him in some way, a shy grin rises to his face.
“A date.” He says. “Let me pick you up for a date sometime.”
Your face heats up and you avert your eyes. He had pulled his mask down after a while of talking with you, and you couldn’t deny he was handsome. Plus, he dragged himself out of bed to help you- a stranger- out of a crisis, so he couldn’t be too bad.
“Okay.” You nodded. “Tomorrow at seven sound okay?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
You exchange numbers before bidding each other goodnight. As he walks away, you take a final peek at his retreating figure before closing your door. Your heart is light considering the frightening events that had transpired. And looking back, you only think fondly of how the cute, sweet stranger rescued you.
Damn this got long. I love it. I love you anon. Requests are still open! I’m going to sleep now, but I’ll get to whatever I can in the morning.
This is Tony’s view, and I tried to keep some things the same, as it’s take away the effect I wanted. If there’s any mistakes, I apologize! I’m quite tired, and am trying to post for you guys! As always, this is on mobile! But, I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated!
There wasn’t a specific plan set in Tony’s mind as he pulled open to the door to Monet’s, allowing him and and Brad to enter. He’d hoped that Clay would finally answer him, after weeks of being brushed off. It wasn’t a delightful experience. Brad gave him a small smile before leading them both to the counter. As Brad ordered, he scanned the room, stopping at someone in the corner. He tilted his head and almost laughed when he realized it was Clay.
He looked like a pouting child, chin to his chest, hood up, as he seemed to slip further into the chair he was sat in. Tony shook his head and tapped Brad’s arm and pointed.
“Is that Clay?” Brad questioned, moving to grab his drink. Tony nodded.
“Looks like him,” he moved towards the corner, but paused upon Brad wrapping his hand around his wrist.
“Don’t. Tony, this is the first time you haven’t blown me off in the past week. We can drink our coffee, and then you can go talk to him,” Brad begged, Tony only pulled away and continued on, much to his dismay.
“Clay?” he felt himself smile when the name left his lips, and he heard Brad cough. Clay looked up, eyes wide. He looked tired, and he seemed nervous. It took Tony a moment to realize Clay was trying to look surprised, but if was obviously a fake look.
“Tony, hey. Brad, hey,” Clay greeted, bouncing his leg nervously as he spoke. Tony tilted his head slightly, trying to see if he could read any of Clay’s emotions. For the first time, he couldn’t. Clay’s eyes were as expressive as usual, and it only increased his worry.
“Do you want to join us?” Tony hoped his tone was soft, and welcoming, as he desperately wanted Clay to agree. Clay sucked in a sharp breath before glancing to where Brad lingered behind him.
“Uh, no, I can’t. I was actually just leaving, enjoy your date,” Clay stuttered and tried to get up quickly, and Tony noticed him sway as he stood. Something wasn’t right. He heard Brad sigh in relief and turned around and narrowed his eyes.
“Hey Clay, we can hang out later, yeah? I haven’t seen you around lately,” he continued pressing, seeing if he could get anything out of him. Clay shrugged before running into the door, eager to leave. Tony blew out a breath as he watched Clay flee. Brad pulled him towards a table. “Why were you being such an asshole? He’s obviously not okay,” Tony snapped as he sat down across from Brad. Brad held his hands up in a defensive position.
“I sincerely apologize for wanting to spend time with my boyfriend without someone ruining it,” Brad snapped back, sipping at his drink. Tony ignored his, watching as Brad seemed quite happy that Clay had rushed off. He reached for his phone only for Brad to grab his wrist. When Tony looked to him, his eyes were hopeful. “Tony, don’t. If you call, I’m done,” Brad pleaded, and he bit his lip when Tony pulled away and sent a quick text before calling. He held the phone up to his ear, watching as Brad pursed his lips. “That’s alright. You seem more in love with him, anyway,” Brad abandoned the drink and walked out. Tony didn’t bother following.
His goal was to find Clay, and make sure that he was alright.
He focused on the ringing, and how it didn’t end until his voicemail answered.
“Hey, it’s Clay. Uh, leave a message after the beep? I guess,” Tony laughed at how unsure he sounded, but wasted no time re-dialing. Voicemail. Re-dial. Voicemail. Re-dial. Voicemail. He made his way to his mustang and sat there before deciding to head home.
Clay was stressing him out, more than usual.
His best bet was to go home, where he’d continue to try to call, but at least get something done.
It was only when he was checking the engine of the mustang when Clay finally picked up.
“Clay? I called like eight times!” he tried not to sound angry, but he was aggravated. Something was wrong, and he just wanted his friend back. He heard a sigh come from the other end, and it was full of stress.
“Actually it was eighteen times, Tony. I was doing something,” Clay snapped from the other end. Tony glanced to the phone in surprise at the outburst.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” he stated, moving to tighten a bolt. He heard Clay sigh again, and could hear him scuff his feet on the ground.
“Not ignoring you… just dealing with things on my own,” Clay lied. Tony knew instantly because Clay’s breath had hitched when the last word left his mouth. Tony tightened his jaw but let it go.
“Clay Jensen working out things on his own? That sounds unheard of,” he joked, he tried to laugh but it wasn’t there. Something was wrong and it didn’t seem right to try and play it off.
“I’m sorry if it seemed like I was ignoring you, I could come by and hang out for a little bit,” Clay offered, but he left a pause at the end. Tony could tell he hoped he’d refuse, but he wanted to fix whatever went wrong.
“Okay. I’ll see you in a little bit?” he knew his tone was lighter when e responded, because he was happy that he could finally fix the mess it’d become.
“Of course,” came Clay’s defeated response. Tony couldn’t help but grin. He could finally fix it, and get his friend back. Make things right, and make sure Clay was okay.
Tony had seen Clay coming, and pretended not to notice. He needed to calm down or he was going to upset Clay even more. He watched from the corner of his eye as Clay pulled into the driveway.
“The scar is healing nicely, Clay,” he remarked as he wiped his hands on the rag he’d grabbed. The skin was slightly pink and raised, much better then anyone thought it’d be.
“Yeah, yeah it is. So what’s up?” Clay breathed out. He had blinked a couple times quickly, hinting at a headache. The anger he’d held onto dissolved and turned to concern.
“Is everything alright, Clay? You haven’t been yourself,” he murmured as he stepped back to the engine. Clay laid his bike down and sat down on the driveway, watching as he worked. His gaze made him nervous.
“Just working through some stuff,” Clay replied shortly. His tone said, “Just drop it.” Tony wasn’t giving up that easily. He was going to fix this.
“Anything I can help with?” he questioned, cocking a brow as he glanced back to Clay. Clay shook his head and shrugged. At the response, Tony turned away, trying to stay calm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
There was a long, empty pause.
“It’s feelings, Tony. You don’t seem like the type of guy to really want to discuss those,” Clay remarked, leaning back on the driveway, soaking up the sun light. Tony swallowed and tried to stay calm, because there was something about the words that made his heart flutter.
“Feelings? Talk to me, man,” he pushed humor into his response. Clay wrinkled his nose and tilted his head to look at him as he leaned against the car. Tony could feel himself smiling, but tried, and really, really tried to stay calm.
“Just I’ve liked this guy for a while, but he has eyes on someone else, and so I’m working on getting over him,” Tony noticed immediately that Clay chose his words carefully as he slowly explained his dilemma. He was honestly surprised that Clay had told him. The relationship wasn’t the best at this point in time, and he assume some of the trust had deteriorated.
“Have you tried talking to him?” he inquired, taking a seat next to Clay on the driveway.
“No,” he responded shortly. “He wouldn’t be interested in me, so I’ll silently let the feelings die,” Clay continued, looking to where Tony sat. He was deep in thought, though. He was trying not to let his heart get the best of him as he began to imagine the possibilities.
“Maybe talking it out would be a good idea?” he finally replied, looking to Clay. “Let him know about your feelings, and try to explain that you don’t want to interfere?” he offered, shrugging. He wanted to appear that he cared, but not to the point to scare Clay off. “That’s what I’d do,” he finished, watching as Clay shook his head before standing up, glancing at him for a long moment.
During that moment, his heart skipped a beat.
He was so sure that this was the moment.
“I’m a ball of anxiety, I don’t think that’d go over well,” Clay replied, reaching for his bike. he sighed.
“I offered some help, man,” he shrugged, trying to hid his disappointment before he stood up moving towards the mustang. Clay pondered for a moment.
“Hey, Tony?” he looked towards Clay to find him staring.
“Yes, Clay?” he raised his eyebrows as he awaited the response.
Was this the ending of their friendship?
Was he going to tell him something terrible?
“I’m in love with you, and I understand you’re in a relationship, and I don’t want to interfere. So I’m going to go.”
His heart stopped, and his eyes widened as Clay sped off. He could only stand and watch him go, as he tried to comprehend the words as fast as his brain would allow.
He wanted to call after him, but Clay was long gone.
His heart was pounding as he drove. He was trying to call him, to tell him that he really wanted to talk. That there were things that needed to be worked out, but there wasn’t an answer. Every time his voicemail would greet him, he’d think it was him.
Tony admired the bravery, as he didn’t think Clay could ever do that. Thinking about it made his heart beat a little faster.
He could’ve sworn he saw him.
But just as fast as he’d seen him, he’d disappeared.
He was heading to Monet’s, hoping Clay would try to hide there. When he pulled past a side street, a biker turned the opposite way. He glanced in his mirror and at the familiar hoodie, he groaned.
He was going to lose him, again.
He continued to try to call, and all of a sudden it automatically went to voicemail.
He sighed and leaned back into his seat, not bothering to try and call anymore.
Clay was making this difficult.
If he could calm his breathing, and get his heart to slow down, maybe he could clear his head.
He knew he could find Clay, most likely at his house, but he did want to give Clay a moment to himself.
He’d realized that after he’d raced after him.
Clay did deserve a moment to comprehend what happened.
He pulled into Monet’s parking lot and killed the engine. He watched as most tables were filled.
He’d grab a hot chocolate, and leave. Off to find Clay once more.
He opened his car door and stepped out, walking towards the entrance. He saw Ryan and Alex sitting together, both of them staring at the empty table where Hannah would sit.
Tony shook his head, focusing on getting the drink and leaving.
“Tony?” Alex questioned, he looked genuinely surprised. He gave them both a tight lipped smile as he waited for his drink. “What are you doing here? Other than getting a warm beverage,” Alex did seem genuine.
“Just grabbing a drink and going on a little trip, that’s all,” he offered, shrugging. Alex pursed his lips and nodded, he watched as Alex settled back into his seat.
He left quickly after that, not wanting to be pulled into a conversation.
He quickly climbed back in, but stopped as he took a breath. Calm, cool, collected.
If he went storming over to Clay’s, he’d be met with a couple different options.
He’d storm in, terrifying Clay’s mother.
Or he could knock on the door and be polite, as usual.
He chose the latter.
He took multiple, unnecessary turns, just to let more time pass. He’d assumed Clay would be upset, and if they both were upset, it’d be a big mess that no one needed. If they both had time to calm down, it’d be much easier to discuss what needed to be discussed.
It seemed like the drive to Clay’s took hours, but it was actually only five minutes. He breathed, in and out, in and out, in and out. He climbed out and climbed the stairs, knocking on the door. Clay’s mom greeted him with a warm smile.
“Tony! Clay’s upstairs, last I checked he was napping,” she greeted. He had to bite back a laugh, because he knew if Clay knew that his mother greeted him with ‘He’s napping,’ he’d throw a hissy fit.
“Thank you, Mrs. Jensen,” he nodded to her as she let him in. He slid his shoes off, trying not to annoy her too much. He made his way upstairs and noted how the house was such a strange form of quiet. There didn’t appear to be a hum from an appliance, nor did any boards creak under his weight. He frowned slightly. Living in such silence can’t be great for someone. He pushed the thought aside as he leaned against the door frame, watching the rise of fall of Clay’s chest.
It wasn’t long before Clay began to stir, and upon seeing Tony, he paled. Panic became etched over Clay’s features, and he almost felt bad. Almost.
Clay pulled the blankets tighter as he watched Tony.
“You aren’t feeling well, Clay?” he greeted, taking a seat at the bottom of his bed. Clay remained silent, watching him as he back with a cocked brow.
“Uh, yeah,” Clay cleared his throat. “Just came down with something,” he finished.
“You took off pretty quickly, quick enough to where I lost you when I tried to follow,” he remarked, watching as Clay awkwardly shifted. Clay had gotten up, and he honestly thought he was going to try to run again, but instead he just closed the bedroom door.
“The last thing I need is my mom being anymore concerned,” Clay sighed. He moved and sat back on the bed, and he began nervously twisting his fingers as the silence became heavy. It was beginning to be awkward.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say I’d run away after,” he stated. He’d known it’s confuse Clay, but it’d get the conversation started. Clay glanced at him in confusion.
“When I was telling you what I’d do in your situation, I wouldn’t have run away,” he clarified, smiling when he watched as Clay rolled his eyes. “So that’s why you were ignoring me the past couple weeks,” he stated, smiling slightly. He was happy to know, and he was happy that the feelings weren’t just his imagination. Clay narrowed his eyes.
“You didn’t catch onto that?” Clay snapped back, and it was obvious he .wasn’t in the mood to talk. Tony didn’t expect him to because he was probably embarrassed. He sent him a surprised glance.
“I tried calling you, but you never answered, and soon enough it was just your voicemail. You turned your phone off, I’m assuming,” he gave him a small smile. It was more of a 'This is awkward as hell, but I’m trying here,’ then anything else. Clay nodded.
“You’d be correct,” Clay answered, moving to pick at a loose thread on his blanket. It was obvious that things were going i be difficult to talk about. He looked away, trying to think of something to say, or something to do, something to kill the silence.
“I broke up with Brad this morning,” he told him, watching as Clay’s head swung around to look at him in shock.
“What? Why? Weren’t you guys happy?” Clay stumbled over his words, and his reaction made him laugh. A genuine laugh this time.
“The relationship ran its course. I think we both knew starting out that it wasn’t going to last, but it was fun while it lasted,” he replied, and he reached for Clay’s hand. “And if you wouldn’t have sped off, I would’ve told you,” he continued, watching as Clay’s skin started to turn pink.
“I warned you it wouldn’t have gone well, and I told you I was a ball of anxiety!” Clay defended. He squeezed Clay’s hand tightly, and Clay smiled.
“If you wouldn’t of sped off, you would’ve also found out that I have feelings for you, too,” he added, watching as Clay bit back a grin. Clay set a hand on his cheek and pulled him closer, pressing their lips together.
He was happy to know that their relationship would be back to normal, actually, even better than normal.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought! And as always, I do take requests!
yoo this was requested and i combined it with an idea i had so here ya go its super cheesy and gross and long
like 4k words
Hey! This is Stiles, you just missed me- you know what to do.
The generic beep of the voicemail sounded loudly through the phone and you hiccuped in surprise at the noise, clearly not expecting it. A small giggle slipped past your lips at the hiccup which you wouldn’t have normally found funny but to put it lightly- you were drunk out of your mind.
In your drunken state you were very easily distracted which you demonstrated as you nodded to a song that was playing your head, trying to remember why were you calling Stiles in the first place. As Stiles’ voicemail recorded your unusual and pitchy humming, you racked your brain to try recall why you were on the phone when it hit you: you had to tell Stiles you were in love with him.
If you were in the least bit sober, you maybe would’ve had the senses to realize that this wasn’t a good idea (no matter how much you drunken mind was saying it was.)
But, then again, sober-you didn’t have the sense not to drink that unattended bottle of gin when home alone, especially when you were feeling rather emotional about being in love with your best friend- smart definitely wasn’t the word to describe your decisions.
And so, here you were: leaving drunk voicemail’s to your best friend who you were hopelessly in love with.
HC that the vex find the old AOL screeching noise in a human database and basically go "wow early humans feared this noise lets make it our battle cry". And now Venus is just echoes of horrible dial up tones.
YES 100 TIMES YES
omg what if as they’re dying the dial up sounds get slower and slower until it’s this creepy cacophony of high pitched crackling noises with an underlying current of “You’ve got mail!” just. Echoing over and over and over and holy shit this is how Pahanin went crazy
Ok guys, all kinds of warnings as we finally get into the mature territory in this chapter. Hope you like it! :p
- - - - - - - - -
In the middle of an extensive crowd, you’re pushing your way forward. Past myriad of people, you’re trying to get through. There’s a great feeling of excitement in the air, people are impatiently waiting for something grand to happen. It’s a hot summer day, and the smell of sweat and incense, flowers and smoke mix in the air.
The crowd erupts into an unanimous cheer, the noise and elation buzzing in your ears. They’re all waving their hands, clapping and throwing flowers over their heads. A young boy grabs your arm, tugging it enthusiastically.
“Look, there he is!”
You lift your gaze from the boy to see a glimpse of the figure passing the crowd right in front of you.
A/N: Okay so this is short because I’m going to keep their first date in one part. I’m a details freak so that will probably be kind of long. Also I 100% believe Dean would be this awkward if he really liked someone and wasn’t looking for a booty call…just go with me here.
Sitting at the library table, Dean stared at the screen of his phone and fiddled with the slip of paper holding Y/N’s number.
Sam entered the library after grabbing some coffee. “Dude.” He noticed the slip of paper in his hand, he’d been carrying it around like a little kid since the other night. “Seriously? You still haven’t called her?”
Dean just looked at him.
“Hey, she gave you her number and usually that means she actually wants you to call her.” Sam sat down to resume what he’d been working on.
Name: I Am Here For You Pairing: Castiel x Reader Comment: After a long week, you call Castiel to make sure that the Winchesters are alright, but he realizes that you are upset about something. For @zoevesper. I am sorry it took me so long, hon.
You fall on the couch in your apartment and sigh heavily, exhausted after the terribly long week. You take the phone and first dial Dean’s number, then re-think it and dial Castiel’s.
“Y/N,” Castiel picks up his phone. His voice is just as usual - calm and serious. “How are you doing?”
“I am fine, just tired,” you answer quickly and change the topic. “How are you, guys? Everything ok?”
“Yes. Dean and Sam are asleep now, they have just exorcised two demons. Y/N, you sound strange,” before you tell him that everything is alright, Castiel hangs up and appears in front of you with the phone in his hand. “Do you need my help?”
“Hey,” you move your legs to make space for Cass, as he sits next to you.
“You sound strange,” he repeats.
“No, I am ok. Just very, very tired,” you sigh and lean against the back of the couch. Castiel takes your hands and looks you in the eye.
“Can I help?” you shake your head, and rest your head on his shoulder, breathing quietly. “Did someone hurt you?”
“No, just life is hard,” he smiles and strokes your hair. “Can you just stay with me? I really don’t feel like being alone now.”
“Of course, Y/N,” Castiel nods and carefully puts his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Do you want me to put you to sleep?”
“No… Let’s watch something. Have you seen Sherlock?” he shakes his ahead, and you shine a smile at him, taking your computer and opening the first season. “Let me show you the show of all time,” you proclaim proudly, not telling him about all the tears and pain. “You’ll love it.”
You were wide awake as soon as you heard the opening riffs of Foreigner’s Hot Blooded blare through the speakers of your phone.
Today was the day!
You hopped out of bed, unwilling to let your mind wander to Dean, you immediately busied yourself as the maid of honor. All of the dresses and shoes were at Meg’s house. Normally you would have offered to sleep over but with the amount of stress she was under and the work you had to do the following day it only made sense to surprise her with a coffee and a pastry.
Meg barely had a moment to hug you tightly as she dragged you into her home. She clearly hadn’t slept. Everything you did, all thoughts you had, were comfortably centered around your best friend. It was easy to lose yourself in the basic needs of her day.
“Oh fuck, where is my mascara?!” She screamed in panic.
Distracted with fifteen other responsibilities you had been tasked with you made eye contact with Meg and pitched your make-up bag across the room like a football. “Right here honey, I’ve got you.”
“Where are my shoes?!” She cried, a twin to her previous anxiety.
You were her best friend, you had all of the bases covered. You were prepared for anything.
“Right here, peanut! Gimme your feet!” Right as you were sliding the ebony straps around Meg’s ankles you heard the vibration of your cell phone against the bedside table.
All this time you spent selflessly on her, your mind had not taken a stray moment to think about how you would appear next to her as her maid of honor. Oh my God, you hadn’t even started getting ready!
Your fingers fumbled to grab the phone as it slid across the tabletop, your fingers covered in hairspray and glitter, “Yea?” You sighed into the receiver, using the heel of your free hand to rub your eye, giving Meg the thumbs-up at her gorgeous reflection.
Everything around you came to a grinding halt, the flowers, the glitter, the bridal glory - you physically winced at the familiar gravelly voice, one you hoped you wouldn’t hear again.
Today of all days.
“Howdy!” Dean’s voice purred.
You replied in a steely tone, “Not. Fucking. Cute.”
“Well now, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” The rough velvet voice made you sit straight up in the makeup chair, clutching the phone so tightly your knuckles turned white.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been…busy.” You decided that regardless of how much your heart throbbed, how much you missed the sound of his voice, how much you needed to hear him, this was Meg’s day.
“Hold, please.” You spoke into the mouthpiece with a falsetto secretarial proficiency, waiting to hear him bark into the counter as you set the phone down on the marble surface. You almost hoped he thought you had hung up on him.
You could still hear him rambling, damned if he hadn’t heard your request.
“I gather from your silence that you’re still angry and I know you don’t wanna talk to me. I get it, I do. I screwed up. I lied to you, and I shouldn’t have, and I regret it everyday. God, you have no idea how much I miss you.” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I just couldn’t leave us where we ended it. I’ll see you later.” The phone clicked off.
“Dean, wait!” You cried in desperation, grabbing the phone and not caring about not needing him. You cursed and re-dialed his number. “Fuck!” You tried him again twice more before giving up and throwing the phone across the room.
“You okay?” Meg asked, cocking an eyebrow. You swallowed and nodded, pushing back your own anxiety to focus on her.
“Yep.” You gave her a bright smile. “Is there anything you need right now?”
“No, Y/N. But uh…” she trailed off, looking you over, “you need some help.” She ushered you to a chair and made you sit, grabbing a brush. “Sit still.”
“No, Meg, it’s fine, really.” You tried to wave her off, but she dug her fingers into your shoulder, keeping you anchored.
“Let me help you.” She raked the brush through your hair. You sighed and settled in, letting her twist your locks into an updo.
You breathed a sigh of relief after you were finally able to sit in a chair and not be needed for five minutes. You sipped at your glass of champagne, your eyes stuck to the newlyweds dancing under the colored lights.
“Place looks great, Y/N.” Sam smiled warmly, leaning over to give you a rib crushing hug. A gorgeous brunette stood behind him and you shot her a wide smile. “Thank you, for everything.” he whispered, his breath fanning across your neck.
“Who is that?” You murmured in his ear as loud as you dared.
Sam pulled away, a nervous smile on his lips. “Uh, this is Cait. Law school friend that I lost touch with.”
“A friend, huh?” Your smile grew on your face when Sam linked their hands together. You addressed Cait directly. “This one’s a keeper. Trust me.”
Cait smiled but said nothing, tugging Sam away and towards the doors, clearly ready to get out of there. You took a minute to think before Meg could screech for you again.
The ceremony had gone just fine; you had forced yourself to keep your eyes on the back of Meg’s head, a smile fixed to your face as you pretended Dean wasn’t sitting in the 3rd row of chairs, Abby at his side with a smug smile and dark red lipstick.
Gabriel, Cas’ brother, landed in the chair next to yours, grinning widely. “I just wanted to say thanks for helping Cas so much. He gets a little anxious when the family gets together, and this has been a great evening.”
“Thanks, Gabriel. Means a lot for you to say that.” You smiled warmly at him.
“Whoa, whoa.” He held his hands up, palms out. “Call me Gabe. I hate Gabriel.”
“Okay, Gabe.” you grinned wider. “Thanks anyway.” From the corner of your eye you saw Dean watching you and shook off the shiver that ran down your spine. You had seen the pair of them a few times throughout the evening, but had avoided them like the plague, only meeting his eyes a few times.
“Want to dance? I figure the best man and the maid of honor should at least share one.” He stood and extended his hand, which you took immediately. You let him spin you around the dance floor, his movements easy and graceful. “So,”
You smiled up at him. “So?”
“Uh…” a blush colored his cheeks. His next sentence was rushed, as if he had to get it out before he lost all courage. “Would you want to go out sometime?”
You stared at him, stunned. Thankfully Meg sauntered over just then, the skirt of her dress forcing you and Gabe apart as she moved in closer to you. “Y/N/N! I just…I love you, baby cakes! I never could have done this without you!” She threw her arms around your neck and you shot an apologetic glance at Gabe, who just smiled and nodded, moving around her dress to talk quietly with Cas.
You talked with Meg for a few minutes, noting that she was already quite tipsy.
“Meg, honey, please sit down. You’re making me nervous.” You led her to your vacated chair, forcing her to sit as Cas took a seat next to her, lacing their fingers together.
“Y/N, don’t be so dramatic!” Meg glanced over your shoulder, her smile faltering for a millisecond before she fixed it back onto her lips. “Dean! So glad you came!” She reached out and he hugged her, but the motion seemed stiff, and you wondered how well they were getting along. Dean glanced to you and opened his mouth speak but Abby beat him to it.
“Darling what a lovely ceremony, your dress is fabulous. I wonder, did you let the bridal party pick their own outfits or did you do it for them?” Her eyes slid derisively over your gown with the barest glance before she returned her gaze to Meg, smiling widely.
“Oh, I picked the colors but I let my ladies choose what looks best. I didn’t want everyone to look cookie cutter. Didn’t Y/N pick a great one?” Meg brought you directly into the line of fire and you groaned inwardly. This would be good.
Abby’s eyes lingered judgmentally, looking you over from head to toe, “Well of course, we all know that Y/N has great taste. Wouldn’t you agree dear?” She gently nudged Dean, begging him to comment.
“Of course, always.” Dean murmured.
“Thank you, Abby.” You smiled graciously, determined to take the high road. However…. “I must say the accessories you’re wearing this evening are absolutely charming.” You eyed the hand that held Dean’s, “ I think I had a bracelet like that one there once upon a time.” You sniped. “Can’t remember what happened to it. Must not have been important.”
You saw Dean’s face as your snide comment hit home. He knew exactly what you were doing, and while it was beneath you, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying watching you make Abby suffer.
Oh, well. This might be a good time after all.
You watched as Abby’s cheeks flushed to match the crimson color of her hair. Thankfully everyone at the table was a few too many drinks in to recognize what was happening. You stood, kissing Meg on the cheek and gently hugging Cas as you made to leave. “Always a pleasure, Senator. We should make a point to do this more often.”
Rounding the table, and passing Dean a little too closely, you felt the electricity between you. As you walked away in the glorious heels Meg had thankfully forced you to purchase you heard Dean snicker, then groan as Abby smacked him discreetly.
You stepped confidently up to the bar and ordered a Whiskey Sour, the bartender taking an extra moment to stare at you between your order and turning to the shelf, deftly grabbing the liquor you requested.
He paused mid pour and reached across the bar, “Call me Zar.”
You arched an eyebrow and took his outstretched hand tentatively. “Zar…? I’m Y/n.” The man peering at you from over the counter was intriguing. He stood just a little taller than you, in your heels, with sandy blonde styled hair. He wore tight black pants with nice black dress shoes. Most intriguing of all was his shirt; the plain black cotton was too tight as it clung to every crevice of his chiseled upper body. The sleeves strained against his biceps as he moved with fluidity to make your drink. You paused before your curiosity got the better of you. “Zar?”
He looked over the bar and snickered as he mixed your drink “Yeah. Dad had a sense of humor. Mum was passed out when they signed the birth certificate, that was a shocker when the meds wore off.”
“Oh wow, your Dad’s a brave man.” You snorted as he poured your drink, “No, really, what’s your full name?”
Zar rested his head on his fist, taking an extra moment to stare adoringly across the bar, “Darling, you’re going to need a couple more of those and maybe some shots before I tell you something I definitely don’t want you to remember in the morning.”
You cackled, you couldn’t help it. He was clearly a career wedding bartender. Such a flirt, and a natural talent for it. What was wrong with a bit of harmless wedding affection? You spent the better part of fifteen minutes chatting with Zar before you saw a familiar form sidle up to the bar.
“Oh fuck.” You could feel the burn of his intense green eyes from over fifteen feet away as he stood opposite your seat at the bar.
“What? What are we fucking? Me, I hope.…” Zar exclaimed, overhearing your comment.
“No. No, no-no-no.” You snickered into your drink, slightly beyond the point of tipsy. “It’s nothing. Really, it’s nothing.” You murmured, taking a sip of your drink.
“All right then. Does ‘nothing’ happen to be wearing a navy blue suit with a gray tie about ten feet on my five o’clock?” He leaned in, whispering across the bar as if that made it any less obvious.
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” You murmured, staring at pattern of the wood grain in the bar, tracing it lightly with your painted nails.
“Well….” Zar looked surreptitiously over his shoulder, making sure to make eye-contact with Dean before cheekily turning back to face you, “How about we play a trick on Mr. Nothing and you give me your number?”
You snickered, peeking over the rim of your glass at Dean as he stared you down with a hunger you hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. “Okay.” You grabbed a napkin and looked around the bar for something to write with, “Do you have a pen?”
Zar quickly snatched a writing utensil out of one of the recently discarded checkbooks and he handed it to you tentatively. As you made to take the pen you hesitated, furrowing your brow, “Oh…wait. How can I give my number to someone who’s name I don’t even know?”
Zar’s shoulder’s sagged and he defeatedly muttered, “Balthazar.”
“Balthazar!” He nearly shouted.
Your drink almost left your body through your nasal cavities. “Oh, honey…..”
“Yeah, yeah. Ha ha. Now I want those ten numbers. Ready? Go!” Balthazar spun, leaving the pen in your possession as he made to address the line of drink tickets that had accumulated while he was flirting with you.
Without the company of someone to distract you from his attention, once again you could feel Dean’s eyes burning holes into the back of your neck. You tried desperately to ignore him but between the drinks and the wedding atmosphere, what harm would one peek do?
As you looked over your shoulder, just barely glancing in his direction, his eyes caught yours in a carnivorous stare. His eyes were dark, predatory and…jealous? You saw Zar take his order, Dean’s glare focused on you the entire time.
His stare was unrelenting, watching as you broke away from the bar and forced yourself to leave the charming Zar and a seething Dean. You swaggered through the crowd of happy wedding attendees with drink in hand a satisfaction that could only be described as a win in your book. After waving at a couple of Meg’s family members, you stopped at the edge of the dance floor, peering as the happy couple laughed when Cas clumsily slid on the polished wood. It was then you realized you needed to pee. You set your empty glass down on a nearby table to go to the restrooms, finding them in a semi-secluded alcove.
After relieving yourself, you made your way to the sink to wash your hands, glancing in the mirror and using your finger to fix a small bit of smudged eyeliner. As you exited the bathroom you bumped into someone else, muttering a rushed apology, looking up to meet angry brown eyes. “You again!” Abby exclaimed, fake happiness written all over her face.
“Me, again,” You sighed, stepping around her. She grabbed your bicep, spinning you around to face her.
“So, you’re still pining for Dean, how sweet.” She grinned, her teeth a glowing white against her burgundy lipstick. “You know he’s mine, right? He’ll always be mine. Because I have legal, binding documents, love.” She wiggled her left hand, the diamond on her finger glittering in the dim lighting.
“You can keep him. Been there, done that.” You smirked, letting your double meaning sink in.
“Well, he seems to have lowered his standards since moving to this God forsaken city.” She eyed you almost curiously. “So, did you enjoy my husband while you could?”
“Oh yea. Lots of times.” You gave her a genuine smile. You hoped you were doing a passable job of hiding how panicked you were, Abby had pressed you into a corner, and there was no escape in sight. “Did he tell you all about how I let him-” you were cut off as somebody stepped into the alcove.
“Abby?” Dean’s voice reached your ears and you breathed a sigh of relief. “Y/N?” Confused colored his tone. “What’s going on back here?”
“Nothing dear. Just getting to know your girlfriend.” She purred. “You know, the worthless slut you fucked for a few months while you were off ‘finding yourself’.”
You saw Dean’s expression change from confusion to anger, his posture changing to one that you recognized instantly. He was pissed. You made to move around Abby, ready to get away from them. “I’m just gonna head-”
“Don’t move.” Dean snapped impatiently. You glared at him but remained where you were. “Listen, Abby. I can deal with you being a bitch to me. But Y/N hasn’t done anything. She didn’t know I was married, okay? So just step away and go back to the bar.”
“Oh, Dean.” She laughed arrogantly. “I just wanted to talk to her!”
“Get away from her.” Every word dripped with a silent threat, and you stared at him in awe.
“Don’t tempt me, darling.” She took a step towards him. “I’ll tell everyone here about your dirty little secret.”
That got your attention, your eyes darting to his.
He looked away, back to Abby. “Look, I don’t care anymore! You tell whoever you want to tell! Hell, I’ll tell anyone you want me to!”
His sudden aggression had thrown her, that much you knew. “Dean, baby, you don’t want to do this here.” She tried to hold onto her dominating charisma, but Dean spoke up, cutting off any possibility of her speaking.
“Oh, I think I do. I’m done, Abby. Done with the lies and the bullshit! Done with pretending to be in love with you! I’m just…done with you.” The look of relief on Dean’s face as he said the last words made you smile, a sick sense of satisfaction at Abby’s discomfort spiraling through you.
“So you go ahead and tell them. But please, please tell them how you helped me cover up the mess I made. Then they can throw us both in prison, and I’m damn glad we won’t have to share a cell.”
“You wouldn’t.” Her eyes narrowed menacingly.
“Oh, yea I would.” Dean’s eyes are lit, a daring smile painting his face. “There’s a microphone right at the front of this ballroom. Leave now, and don’t make a scene or I’ll make sure we’re both being hauled off in cuffs.”
Abby drew herself up as straight as she could, gathering up the skirt of her dress.
“And don’t forget to thank the bride and groom on your way out.” He smiled graciously at her as she passed him.
Once he had made sure she left he stepped over to you, concern etched into his features. “Are you okay?”
“Dean, what is going on?” You stared up at him, wanting desperately to reach out and touch him, not quite sure how shaky the ground was underneath the two of you.
“I’ll tell you everything later, okay? Can we just enjoy what’s left of Meg’s wedding?” His eyes pleaded with you to drop it, and you conceded with a sigh.
“Fine, I need a drink. But you owe me an explanation, Winchester.” You shoved past him, not able to keep the smile off your face as you sauntered up to the bar. Zar greeted you with a smile.
“Whiskey Sour?” His blue eyes took in the look on your face, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips.
“Yes, please.” You grinned widely, settling onto a barstool. Dean sat next to you, looking more relaxed than you had seen him all evening. You turned to him, a serious expression on your face. “Explain. Now. Or I walk away forever.”
Dean nodded and ordered a glass of whiskey, Zar sliding it across the bar with a knowing smile, winking at you. Dean downed most of his glass before sighing. “I fucked up.”
You waited a little impatiently, drumming your fingers against the polished wood surface of the bar. He was silent for several minutes, and you saw party goers starting to file out a few at a time, Meg and Cas wishing them all a safe trip home. Your eyes were drawn back to him when he took a deep breath.
“I uh, I was an accountant at a company back home. And I fucked up. I fell in with the wrong people; used the client’s money to cover my debts to them. The clients lost everything, and I would have lost everything too, but…” he cleared his throat.
“Abby. She uh…she used money from her campaign to cover the losses, and the clients weren’t any wiser. I left the company and moved here, and that’s when…I met you.” He sighed. “I thought I could make everything go away, but once Abby figured out I wasn’t coming back, she threatened to out me, have me thrown in jail, and I couldn’t let her. So I withdrew from you. I canceled dates, tried to make you leave me first and save you the hurt.” When he looked back up at you his eyes were bright with unshed tears, and you felt your heart break for him.
“I just thought I was doing the right thing by pushing you away, and I’m so sorry for putting you through all of that, Y/N. But I don’t care anymore. I just want you, damn the consequences.”
“Dean, I don’t-”
“Don’t say that! Please, please, don’t give up on me, I-you can’t!”
You looked around the room, unable to hold his gaze any longer, and realized there were only about 10 to 20 people left, and they were all helping Zar clean up the leftover decorations. “I’m not giving up on you! I never said that! But with you being married to Abby.. and how do you know she won’t out you now?”
“Because I’ll take her down with me. Using her campaign money to cover my losses would get her tossed out of office faster than you could blink. And with her being up for re-election, she can’t let this out now. I’m sure she’s already scheming, coming up with a way to explain where I am, because I can tell you now; I won’t be caught standing next to her anytime in the near future.” He finished off his drink.
“As far as the divorce papers, consider them signed. She doesn’t have any leverage over me; I don’t care if she tells the friggin’ President what I did! It can be me and you now! And I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but please, give us another chance. I promise not to fuck it up.”
You smiled. How could you stay mad at him? “Take me home, Winchester. Before I come to my senses and change my mind.”
The grin that spread across his face was infectious, and you found yourself laughing uncontrollably. “Just let me tell Meg and Cas goodnight, okay?”
Dean waited while you said goodbye, Cas’ hug leaving you breathless.
Once you were at his car you sighed tiredly. “This has been the longest day of my life.” You spied what looked like folded up papers under the windshield wipers. “What is that?”
He grinned and grabbed the papers. “Well, this just got a whole lot easier, sweetheart.” He held them out, showing you where Abby had signed on the dotted line.
Holy Moly It’s Done! Thank you to everyone who sent in ask after ask, and reblogged the shit outta this, without all of you I never would have gotten this done!
I reach for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting in line. Hmm… Who did I last call? Was it José? Before that a number I don’t recognize. Oh yes. Grey, I think this is his number. I giggle. I have no idea what the time is, maybe I’ll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the cryptic message. If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the automatic re-dial. He answers on the second ring. “Anastasia?” He’s surprised to hear from me. Well, frankly, I’m surprised to ring him. Then my befuddled brain registers… how does he know it’s me?
Summary: I just wanted to try writing for Sherlock for once. I dunno. Anyways Sherlock is infatuated with the reader, and because she has social anxiety she doesn’t really show that she likes him back and it drives him bananas.
Warnings: The reader has social anxiety, that’s it I think?