When you are paired up with Kevin Owens for a crack-match, Finn is smuggled in to have your back.
Pairing: Finn Balor x Reader
Warnings: language, wrestling violence, fluff
Word Count: 1860+
Note: This came out of nowhere. So did the fluff. Sorry (not sorry) about the cheesy bits. Please let me know how you liked it by commenting (even if it’s just asvdgfbghuj), liking and/or reblogging. My requests and tag lists are open!
As you walked down the back corridor, you saw Xavier Woods poke his head around the corner in front of you. He ran the other way. You could hear his whispers bouncing off the cinderblock walls, “she’s coming.” You picked up your pace. If there was a prank headed your way you wanted to outrun him.
In the lounge area, The New Day was circled around something.
“You’re too late. I’m already here,” you started.
Kofi glanced up at you and said into the circle, “but she’s teamed up with Kevin Owens tonight.”
You heard a growl. Then Finn pushed the others away.
“You’re what?!”
“Finn? What are you doing here?” What was he doing here? You were moved to Smackdown during the shake-up, despite your teaming up with the Demon King.
“They kidnapped me after Raw last night for what turned out to be a good reason. But I asked you first. Why are you teamed up with Owens?” His voice wasn’t dangerous yet, but it was getting there. You were slowly learning his various tones in a relationship you had mostly been able to keep from the fans.
“Becky Lynch and I aren’t the best of friends at the moment, and she’s teamed up with Styles… who hates Owens. Shane wanted a co-ed match… and I got shanghaied into it. Looks like there’s been a lot of that around here of late.” You shot a look at the trio, reminding them that they were still in trouble. Xavier stepped forward.
“We thought you could use some extra back-up. Owens has a history of turning on his partners, even ones who thought they were his friend.”
“I suffer from so such illusion.” You turned back to Finn, who was looking at you with a hard look on his face.
“He’s a snake.”
“Technically, ‘Viper’ Orton is the snake,” you chuckled. “Either way, I’ve got this.” You groaned as Finn clenched his jaw. “You’re not leaving till after my match, are you?”
“No, Y/N.” He held up a hand to stop you from talking. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m going to have your back the second Owens turns on you. Deal?”
“Only if you promise not to interfere unless absolutely necessary. If you do it too soon and get the match disqualified, I’ll have to team up with him again. As for you three… you can’t do anything either. If anything, I don’t want to see you guys by the ring at all.” You sighed. “You could have just called Sami. He knows Finn would kill him if anything were to happen to me. Even if he is busy dealing with Baron again.”
“Now he can focus,” Finn said. He pulled you close and kissed your temple.
“And promise you’ll keep out of sight. You’ve got a lot of enemies here, too.”
“Promise.”
You stayed on the stage as your music morphed into Finn’s. AJ and Becky were livid, and Kevin didn’t look so happy either. It didn’t matter if they approved or not. For all you said earlier, it felt good to know Finn was watching your back.
He emerged from the smoke a few seconds later. The crowd erupted as he took your hand and walked with you down to the ring.
“I still don’t like the idea of this alliance,” he whispered.
“It is not an alliance. It’s… business.”
Finn gave your hand a tight squeeze before holding the ropes open for you. He dropped to the floor and backed off like you asked him too. Hopefully, you wouldn’t have to risk any management backlash if he did have to get involved.
The bell rang, starting the match.
Kevin ducked under the ropes to let you fight first. AJ backed away with a smile, which Becky mirrored as she walked towards you. The two of you exchanged fists and slaps to each other’s chests till you staggered back. Already your breath was coming out in short bursts.
“Come on, Y/N!” you heard from ringside. Finn continued to shout encouragement and shot up a ‘too sweet.’ You took his words to heart and surged forward, chasing Becky to an open corner. You jumped up on the ropes. The crowd counted the blows you rained on her to ten before you jumped back. You couldn’t help but grin as she sagged on her feet. She cried out in alarm as you pulled her from the corner, feigning a slingshot. Instead, you jumped up and kicked her in the chest. Becky bounced off the ropes and sent you to the canvas with a clothesline.
By the time you got to your feet, she had tagged in AJ. He sauntered into the ring, waiting for you to tag in Kevin. His eyebrows shot up as you stayed put and raised your fists. He looked past you and you followed his gaze. Kevin was angrily straining against the ropes, arm outstretched and ready for a tag.
A tag you denied him.
Instead, you jumped to roundhouse AJ in the face. He staggered back with a growl, then ran at you. A light breeze blew over you as he swung and missed. You hit the deck and rolled out of the way of a kick. If he caught you, the match would be over too soon. In rolling, you accidentally found yourself in your own corner and felt a slap on your shoulder as Kevin tagged himself in. He and AJ had at it while Finn came to stand by your feet.
“You really do have this under control, don’t you?” he called up to you.
“Was there any doubt?” You grinned at him but had to break away as AJ kicked Kevin into the corner, almost knocking you off the edge. You took the chance to tag yourself in and leaped over the ropes, nailing AJ in the chest.
He went flying towards the middle of the ring. He scrambled to his corner after he landed, and tagged in Becky again. She entered quickly but danced around the ring. She pulled back for a strike, then retreated while looking past your shoulder.
“Y/N, watch your six!” Finn shouted.
You turned just in time to see the fist coming, and to take evasive action. Kevin stumbled when the punch collided with nothing but air. He looked up at you, then glanced at AJ and Becky on the other side of the ring.
“Give us a moment, please,” you asked the opposing team. Then you launched the hardest hit you could muster into Kevin’s jaw. He spun with the hit and landed on the canvas hard, making it bounce before he rolled under the ropes. You turned back to AJ and Becky and raised your fists. “Guess I’m on my own now.”
Becky jumped back in. You met her in a headlock before she shoved you down into the canvas. From the corner of your eye, you saw Kevin stand on the outside of the ropes. Becky fell on top of you for the pin, but you twisted and trapped her feet above her.
The crowd counted with the ref, “One! Two! Three!”
You released her and let the ref raise your hand. He reached back to pull in Kevin as Becky and AJ rolled out of the ring. Kevin refused to let his hand be raised and moved to stand with them outside the ring. The ref left quickly. Finn was by your side in an instant, ready for any tricks.
Then the arena swelled with a mix of cheers and boos.
“It was a trap,” you murmured, feeling your blood run cold.
All around the stadium, the heels of Smackdown started to make their way to the ring. A few faces too that had bad blood with Finn or you, or both. They each found a spot in the growing circle around the ring but didn’t move to get in.
Finn pressed his back against yours. You could feel the adrenaline flowing off him.
Your heart leaped in your chest as Sami began to make his way down the ramp. At least there would be three of you.
He slowed as he neared the circle; Randy and Naomi stepped away to let him through. Finn met him at the ropes, but Sami didn’t step in. Low words were exchanged. Finn’s shoulders tensed. They shook hands. Then Sami jumped back to the floor and joined the circle, sending a collective gasp through the crowd. Finn quickly backed up to you again as Sami received a mic.
“Any last words, Demon King?” He grinned as a few people chuckled. The arena was silent as he tossed the mic towards Finn’s feet.
You wanted to kick it away, but Finn swept it up off the canvas. He nodded at Sami, who had a huge knowing grin on his face, and turned to face you, holding the mic between you.
“Y/N, we haven’t been together long, but I knew from the first moment I met you…” Finn ran his hand through his hair. “I… we… oops. This is not going anywhere near as planned.”
What was he doing? Smackdown’s roster wasn’t going to kill you. Even the heavy amount of bruising and imminent internal injuries wasn’t worth this speech.
“I’ll try again. Before I met you, I found it difficult keeping Balor fully at bay. I would lose control and put myself and my teammates’ lives at risk. You brought a calm with you, Y/N. Then my heart began to wonder, ‘why is Y/N so perfect?’ The way you laugh and smile in and outside of the ring glows all around you every day. I could study the stars for their entire existence and never find a light as perfect as yours.”
Your heart thundered in your chest. What the hell was he doing?
“That leaves me with just one more question for the rest of eternity.”
Finn sank to one knee and your heart stopped.
“Y/N Y/L/N, would you grant me the greatest honor of being my wife?” Finn dropped the mic and held up a small black velvet box. He popped the cover to reveal a red diamond ringed in tiny pearls. His grandmother’s ring.
Your hands flew to cover your mouth, muffling “you bastard!” Finn smiled and stood as you shook your head yes. He slid the ring on your finger and held you close.
“You better watch your language, love,” he murmured into your hair, “that’s your future mother-in-law you’re insulting.”
As he spun you around, you saw familiar faces from Raw hidden in the cheering crowd. Your whole family was there while you held your whole world in your arms.
“How’d you sneak in the ring?”
“Sami gave it to me just now.”
“The kidnapping?”
“A ruse to explain why I was on Smackdown. Though I was ready to have your back against Kevin.”
You laughed through the tears beginning to blur your vision. “So we don’t have to fight everyone?”
Finn set you down and stepped back. “Not unless you really want too.”
You covered up his smug smile with a kiss that was to be the first of many.
Agent Dean Winchester and Y/N celebrate a completed mission with a steamy night in.
Pairing: 007Agent!Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: Action violence, SMUT, blindfold, slight Dom!Dean, little bit of spanking, oral (both receiving)
Word Count: 1700
Note: Whew. After that season finale, I needed a happy Dean. We all do. Please let me know how you like this by commenting, liking, or reblogging, or all three!
He rolled as the wood paneling exploded above his shoulder. Half an inch lower and Dean wouldn’t have a shoulder.
Dean Winchester. 007. Agent.
You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact you were working with him.
“Y/N, it’s getting tight in here. Type faster.”
“Trying.” Your fingers flew across the keys as you watched the green script appear on the screen.
In and out, he said. Hack an email. Simple, he said. 007 said a lot of things.
“You ready, Q?” you asked the coms.
Sam’s voice crackled in your ear, “send it through.”
You tapped the enter key and the text spiraled down into the secure link you coded in.
“Got it. Now get out of there.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean echoed with you. He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the side exit. The bookshelf slid shut behind you just as the enemy operatives rushed the room. You could hear them scrambling to find the latch as Dean pulled you out into the night.
At the safe house, Dean’s keys clattered into the alcove bowl then he took your stealth coat. You smirked at him as you unlaced your boots and he shed his mission gear.
“I don’t see how you get around so conspicuously in that car, Winchester.” The Impala was beautiful, but it seemed to attract a lot of eyes rolling through town.
“Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight, sweetheart.”
Both of you flopped onto the couch and let out heavy sighs. You were content to close your eyes and breath slowly till maybe you fell asleep. Forget the coms on the coffee table and leave the paperwork till morning. Dean’s fingers had another plan. You grinned as they feathered up your bare arm.
“Not back for five minutes and you’re already trying to seduce me.” The couch’s fabric was cool on your face as you turned to look at him. His lips parted as his tongue darted out to wet them. Freckles danced across his face and his afternoon stubble coming in.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing.” You averted your gaze to the window as rain began to beat against it. “What are you thinking about?”
“Something incredibly sinful.”
Your eyes darted to his and found them lust-blown. The mixture of the storm outside and your quickened blood pounded in your ears as your breath began to come out in short bursts. Your skin prickled with a sudden chill, even as you felt a rush of warmth all over. After a shuddered breath, you leaned close to him and put your hand on his chest.
“Show me.”
You were expecting him to push you into the pillows of the couch. You were expecting his lips to latch onto yours. His hands everywhere. Clothing to be removed hastily. But none of that happened.
Instead, he reached up and loosened his tie before pulling it from around his neck.
“Do you trust me?”
Agent instincts kicked in. Dark rumors rushed in. You considered telling him no. But knowing him, if he wanted you dead, you would be. Blindfolded or not.
“Yes.”
Dean helped you stand and held the tie over your eyes without tying it. With one hand in yours, he led you through the safehouse, murmuring commands so you wouldn’t stub your toes. Light stopped seeping in over the edges of the tie. There was a moment where you couldn’t sense anything except his hand holding the tie behind your head, then he let it drop.
“I requested it specially in hopes that the mission would end well,” he said.
In front of you was a low four-post bed draped with dark, soft fabric. The cloth swayed in the breeze coming in through the seemingly open windows. Safe house smoke and mirrors, but effective. You walked to one corner, swaying your hips a little more than usual. It was unnecessary as Dean caught your wrist in his tie before you got too far.
“So, it’s going to be one of those nights, is it?” you asked cheekily. Dean hummed in agreement and brought your wrists together behind you around the post, securing them with his tie. He breathed hot air over your lips and backed away. You watched hungrily as he shed his holster and his shirt. You hoped he would let you lick your way up that soft stomach one day. Those thoughts changed as he pulled his belt out in one sweep. Dean let his pants fall and stepped closer to you clad in only his straining compression shorts.
Electric shocks coursed through you as he finally pressed his mouth against yours. It was rough. Starved. More intense without the option to touch him. You whimpered as his evening stubble scratched your cheek while he nibbled on your ear. His hands squeezed your hips before reached back to cup your ass. He pulled you closer, pressing his hardening length into your clothed stomach.
“What if I said no coming till I said so tonight?”
You pulled away from him with a groan and a pout. “But I did everything right.”
“You were a little slow with the coding.”
“Next time you can code, and I’ll shoot the bad guys…” you gasped and rested your head on his chest as he slapped your ass. When you caught your breath, you looked up to see his arched eyebrow. He rubbed the ache away but kept staring at you till you made a decision. Either way, you were going to have a good night. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. If your arms start to hurt, let me know, and we’ll figure something else out.”
He pushed you down till you were eye-level with his pelvis. He worked his thumbs inside the hem of the shorts and inched them down till his cock sprang forth.
You didn’t wait for a command. The salty taste of his precum made you hum around his head. Dean stifled a groan as you began to bob up and down his length, taking him deeper little by little. With a final deep breath, you pushed as far as you could go before your gag reflex would take over. Dean braced one hand on the post and the other behind your head. He gave a shout as you alternated sucking and hollowing your cheeks around him. His hips jerked, following your mouth as you backed off, running your tongue along his vein. You pulled off with a pop and a wink. Before you could move to start again, Dean pulled you to your feet.
“Enough.” He winked back. “My turn.”
With a tug, your wrists were released. He rubbed the ache out of your shoulders and wrists while peppering kisses along your jawline. His hands rubbed their way to your chest and down your front, pulling the fabric up and over your head before unclasping your bra. Your own hands worked to get off the stealth pants, but they hugged your thighs too much for you to remove them by yourself. You fell with a giggle onto the bed as Dean pushed you down. He tugged on them and your panties till he could throw them on the floor, then pulled you by your ankles to the edge of the bed. He ran a finger up your slit, making you shiver. You watched as he licked away the slick.
He leaned over you and whispered in your ear, “Remember, don’t come.” Dean tossed you further up the bed before following you. He laid in front of your parted legs, grinning like a proud panther. You weren’t sure if you were the cream or the canary. Dean gave a delighted hum as he ran his tongue up your slit.
Cream then.
Your hips bucked as Dean began to lap and suck and pull every moan from your lips. He splayed a warm hand over your abdomen, pinning you into the sheets. His teeth grazed your clit and you out let out a mangled cry. A finger began to work in and out of you as he continued to suck and kiss your clit.
Release was right there. You could feel it building.
Dean laughed into your heat before pulling away. Your legs quaked as he crawled up your body, planting open-mouthed kisses up your stomach and over your breasts and up the side of your throat. You were so sensitive you could feel him throbbing against your stomach. Your eyes fluttered shut as you panted.
“Y/N. Look at me.” Dean tilted your chin up as you forced your eyes open. “Can you hang on a little longer?”
“Yes,” you croaked.
You gasped as Dean began to work himself into you an inch at a time. Again, he pinned you down, keeping you from speeding up the process. You both gave a soft ‘umpf’ as he bottomed out. Your walls contracted around him, making him shiver and growl.
Then he let loose.
Breathless gasping gave way to cries of pleasure as Dean thundered into you. The earlier spiral that had faded into a dull ache came back in full force. You focused on how tight he was holding your hips to keep from coming. There wasn’t air enough to beg.
“Come, Y/N,” Dean grunted at last, “come for me.”
He twisted his hips till your cries heightened in pitch. You clawed at his shoulders as he continued to ram your g-spot. With a final guttural cry, your muscles relaxed throughout your body. You were flying, soaring. Dean kept going till his grunts faltered with his hips. His hot cum coated your walls, jolting another spasm through them again.
The bed was suddenly cold when Dean got up. He came back with a towel to clean you up, then again with a glass of water. You could barely keep your eyes open to drink.
“Here’s to another mission well done, 007.”
Dean leaned in to nuzzle your noses together. “And here’s to many more celebrations, Agent Y/L/N.”
He guided you under the sheets and wriggled close till your back was flush with his chest.
The morning would bring another mission, but for tonight, Dean “007” Winchester was all yours.
Note: Trying something new. Let me know how you like it by commenting, liking, and reblogging. And my requests are open!
Natasha giggled when she walked into the room and saw you surrounded by craft supplies. “How’s the project going?”
“Fine,” you answered, focusing on measuring a length of ribbon. “It’s almost done.” With a flick of your wrist, you wrapped it around the jar you painted and tied it into a bow. “There.” You marched into the common room where the rest of the team was relaxing after dinner.
Well. “Relaxing” is relative. Clint and Thor were engrossed in a video game while Tony was “upgrading” their VR system. Rhodey was watching him and shaking his head, hiding a tool behind his back. Banner sat in a corner reading. Sam and Bucky were laughing with Steve over stories.
Wanda looked up from her conversation with Vision and grinned. “What do you have there, Y/N?”
Natasha answered for you. “A swear jar.”
All activity in the room ceased. Your cheeks warmed up as the team looked between you and the bright pink jar with purple ribbon.
“Aw, come on! We’ll all be broke before we get through a mission,” Clint whined. He wasn’t actually that bad unless Tony did something incredibly annoying. Which was often.
“There are options. I’m still making up the list, but common words are twenty-five cents, bad ones are fifty, and really bad ones are a dollar. Alternately, you can keep a subscription for two dollars a day and continue as you do. If you feel like you are starting to swear less, due to cost, then you can cancel and pay as needed. Proceeds will be donated to a center voted on by the team. The idea is to calm the language down enough so you don’t have to work hard not to cuss during interviews and debriefings to governmental officials.”
“Some of those bastards need to hear it,” Tony mumbled.
“That will be fifty cents, Mr. Stark.”
Steve coughed to keep from laughing. At the same time, he made eye contact with you and motioned you to the bar. You left Nat to deal with Tony and collect the first installment to the jar. Steve leaned against the bar, watching as you started to sway your hips a little more. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he brought his attention back to your eyes.
“And what kind of walk was that, Agent Y/L/N?”
You hooked a finger into one of his belt loops, using it to pull yourself closer to him. “The right kind I hope.” You bit your bottom lip as Steve arched his eyebrow. A giggle escaped as he slid an arm around your waist and led you to the elevator. He descended on your lips as soon as the doors closed.
“Do I… still have… to… pay… after we have… sex?” he asked between breaths.
“Yes.” You knew what was coming. In front of the team, he barely let anything slip. In the bedroom… maybe starting a jar just for the two of you wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Date night funding.
You squealed as Steve hoisted you over his shoulder to carry you to his room. He locked the door behind him before dropping you on the bed. You laughed as you bounced. He pulled off his shirt and dropped his jeans before crawling over you. Cool air hit your skin as he dragged your top over your head and then pulled down your sweatpants. You failed to hide a smirk as he gasped at the sight of your matching red lacy set. It was no coincidence that you’d finished the jar today.
“Fuck.”
“That will be fifty cents.”
“Like hell it will.” Steve leaned down closer to your face, stopping just before your noses touched. “I plan to fill that jar in one night. But first, how about I fill that smart mouth of yours?” You nodded and wiggled your way to sit up against the headboard. Steve followed you after kicking off his boxers. With the way his length bobbed in front of your face, you weren’t sure if your face or sex felt more flushed. You reached out, but he caught your wrists and held them as he braced himself on the headboard. “Open,” he commanded.
You parted your lips and stuck out your tongue. A soft sigh bubbled up as you wrapped your lips around his cock. You twirled your tongue over and under his head, relishing in the taste of him and his precum.
“Such a good little cock whore, aren’t you Y/N?”
You answered by pulling him further down your throat. You bobbed up and down, going further and further till he bumped the back of your throat. Steve growled and clenched everything to keep from thrusting into your mouth. The game began anew of who could hold out the longest. With your hands above your head, you couldn’t relieve any of the pressure building between your legs. Steve muttered incoherent sounds above you as he took the full brunt of you hollowing and sucking your cheeks. It was new, but you tried swallowing more of him. Tears squeezed out of the corners of your eyes as he sank further down your throat.
“Fuck and shit, Y/N.” Steve maneuvered to hold both your wrists with one hand while the other flew to the back of your head. His fingers wove into your hair and protected you from slamming your head back as he began to face fuck you. A string of curses rained down, mingling with the sound of you gagging and trying to breathe through your nose. You took a split second before he thrust into your throat to curl your tongue under where his vein would slide against it. He gave a shout as he rolled his hips. “Neat trick,” he rasped. Steve pulled out as you kept your lips tight around him. You slurped the spittle that dangled from your lips, leaning into his chest as he sat back.
Steve rubbed the slight ache out of your shoulders before laying you into the pillows. He ran a finger up the outside of your panties, chuckling as he pulled it up to eye level to show you how slick it was.
“I’m going to sink right into that tight cunt, aren’t I?”
“Yes, Steve,” you moaned, “want to feel you deep in me.”
He rumbled in the back of his throat before pulling your panties down your legs. He nodded towards you and you arched to reach back to undo your bra. His lips latched onto a free nipple, tugging on it till you were squirming and clawing his back.
“Please, Steve.”
“Please, what?” He kissed between the swell of your breasts and moved on to the other one.
“No more teasing. Just fuck me, Steve.”
“What if I like playing with you?” He reached down and played his tip at your entrance, coating it in your juices. “I like the way you beg and squirm. Might have you do that all night.” His eyes, darkened blue with desire, watched as you mewled and pleaded with him. “So what if I give you my cock? I could edge you for hours till you are completely undone and ready to fly apart at the slightest touch on your clit.” Steve grabbed your wrists, keeping you from wrapping your hands around his length. “Talk to me, Y/N. Use those dirty lips to tell me what you want.”
Your blood pounded in your ears. Your breath hitched as he leaned down and blew hot air onto your neck.
“I’m waiting, Y/N. And I’ve got all fucking night.” You cried out as he mouthed over your shoulder and back to the hollow of your throat.
“Fuck me till I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, Steve. Give me your cock. Hard and fast, or slow and as torturous as you like. Just please give it to me!”
You gasped as he began to sink into you an inch at a time.
“Needy little whore, aren’t you?” Steve released your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his waist.
“Yes. So needy. Such a whore.” You scrambled to feel every inch of his skin as he finally bottomed out.
“Gah. So tight.”
He didn’t say anything else coherent for the rest of the night.
The slow and torturous route was his favorite, and arguably yours as well. In and out felt as one, more intense than chasing an orgasm. It also forced you to find something to focus on. Your mind reeled as everything flooded your senses. The stretch of Steve; ready as you were, he always burned pleasantly just within the side of pain. His scent, rich and overwhelming. The way his chest would rub against your nipples, pecs pressed into your breasts as you bounced on his cock. Through your lidded eyes, you could see how his skin glistened, and how his hair stuck out in odd places. His face taunt with focus, and his arms bulging on either side of your head.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper in you. His hips jackhammered into yours as his pace picked up, but just barely. You were close what felt like hours ago, but now everything burned and threatened to explode.
“Let go, Steve,” you whispered. “Please.”
He shouted hoarsely before resting his forehead on yours. He slammed into you, pushing you over the edge. Steve’s eyes snapped open as you clamped around him, watching you fall apart. His hips jerked as he spilled into you. Together you rode out the high. The air filled with heavy breathing and soft groans as he pulled out and fell to one side.
You were almost asleep when he whispered, “how much do I owe the jar?” He chuckled when you hummed non-responsively. “Would a twenty be enough?”
One snarky comment after another come to you. I probably owe ten myself. You might want to try closer to forty. In quarters or in bills?
You chose, “depends. Are you going to try to pay some of that debt in the morning?”
He pulled you back into his chest and murmured into your hair, “Y/N, abso-fucking-lutly.”
Y/N is new to WWE, but she was going to inevitably show up on Creed’s gaming show. She has no idea how much Fergal is going to take delight in helping her fill the full VR experience.
Pairing: Finn Balor/Fergal Devitt x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: scary clowns, FLUFF, giggles, and tickles, and frights (oh my!)
Word Count: 650+
Note: My first Finn fic! Please let me know how you like it by leaving a comment and/or liking and reblogging. Enjoy:
“Welcome to Up Up Down Down! I’m your host, Austin Creed here. We have special guest Y/N Y/L/N in the house! And today we are introducing Y/N to virtual reality gaming… with Until Dawn: Rush of Blood.”
You laughed and hid your face. “Is that the one Big E played?” Austin wiggled his eyebrows at the camera. “My very first episode and you’re starting me on that?”
Flashbacks of how scared Big E was fighting VR clowns made your heart rush. You were scared just watching. How was this going to go when you were wearing headphones and everything? No use putting it off.
“All right. Let’s get this thing going.”
He showed you which buttons to push and you picked a nickname for the show. The tutorial was easy enough. And you had an okay aim with the guns.
“Is the first round the same every time? Same jump spots?” you asked, hopeful. Not that you would scream any less.
“I… don’t remember. After we film, we’ll compare and I’ll add a thing at the end.”
You groaned as the game took over. The dip in the coaster made your stomach lurch almost as much as a real one. You shot every box that had a gun on it, suggesting ammo. No way were you going to lose because you couldn’t reload if that was even going to be an issue.
The first wave of clowns had already passed when Fergal walked into the room. He laughed silently with Austin when you squealed about something on the screen. With a grin, Fergal mouthed to Austin “I’m going to scare her,” and emphasized with motions.
“She’ll punch you in the face,” he motioned back.
“I know.” He moved to stand close behind you, but far enough away where you couldn’t feel his presence. The mixture of the VR headset and headphones canceled out any defense mechanism you had; you were completely focused on the game. You shot one clown and started looking around for another. As another set of red eyes started to advance from the darkness, Fergal suddenly gripped your shoulders and shouted. You whipped your elbow behind him, connecting with his ribs. He doubled over with laughter and hurried out of the room as you yelled at him.
“Fergal Devitt, you get your hot ass back here! How do I pause this? Screw it. Ferg!” You tossed off the gear to Austin and ran after him.
Austin grabbed the camera that was formally videoing you. “This should be good,” he said into the lens. He caught up just as you tackled Fergal to the floor.
You ignored the other WWE occupants and got to work pinning him. “You big jerk,” you laughed, “I’m going to hide all your LEGO’s!”
“Nooooo,” he mocked as you sat on his chest. His voice jumped an octave as you began to tickle him. He giggled and laughed and tried to roll out from under you. He begged and pleaded with you to stop before finally flipping you over. Now it was your turn to laugh till your chest was heaving and your sides hurt. He fell to one side and laid next to you on the floor.
“Now will you guys just kiss already?” Austin asked.
You turned your head to Fergal and smiled. “Should we tell him?” He winked at Austin.
“Are you guys dating?” He went crazy when you nodded. “They’re finally dating. Praise- alluia!” Someone else in the room added an “amen” and another “took you guys long enough.”
“If I kiss you, will you promise not to hide my LEGO’s?” He pouted and you kissed his nose.
“No. But I will if you play the scary clown game. All the way through the first level.”
“Deal.”
He did pretty well. There were a few Irish curses, but most clowns barely made it to the cart. And you were able to hold off scaring him back till the very end.
You doubled over with laughter as he fell out of the chair.
Prompt: “My request is this: DeanxReader where the reader has Endometriosis but she’s hiding it from Dean but one day on a hunt when it gets bad she collapses and finally has to tell him and lots of fluff and so on and she explains how painful it is and he helps her and is supportive. I hope it’s something you’ll want to write! I’m trying to bring awareness to the disease.” – @destielshipper222
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: period stuff (to the extreme), angsty beginning, eventual fluff, mild language
Word Count: 1500+
Quick Background: Endometriosis is when uterus tissue grows where it shouldn’t be. It can cause cysts and fusing of the uterus to other organs. The tissue reacts to the menstruation cycle and leads to interior bleeding because the broken-down tissue has nowhere to go. This leads to intense pain before/during periods and during everyday life. It affects millions of women around the world and is often waved off by doctors as “normal pain.”
Note: I had no idea this disease affected so many women before doing a little research for this fic. I’m not a huge blog yet, but I hope this gets the word out there. Incredibly painful period pains are not normal, so if any of this sounds familiar you might want to consider talking to someone.
You hoped to finish the case before it hit. You hoped it would hold off for a few more hours. You hoped the monster couldn’t sense the pain you were in. It was unlikely it wouldn’t. Vampires had a way of seeking out such things.
“You ready?” Dean asked, handing you a machete from the trunk.
“Yeah.” A jab inside your abdomen made you steady yourself on Baby, playing it off as casual leaning.
“What’s wrong with you?” His brow instantly furrowed. That’s how he was every month. So far, you’d been able to hide the truth from him.
“Just cramps. It’s a good thing I’m the bait. Sam, do you have any other info?”
“He seems to be a loner, maybe trying to start a new pack. Another casualty of the British Men of Letters probably.”
You grunted as another pain shot through you. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”
The three of you avoided the main drive towards the house. You signaled the boys when you saw the vamp walking around inside. Sam broke off to find the back door. You and Dean made your way to the front, crouching under the window sills. Dean mouthed “be careful” when you found the door was unlocked.
At the center staircase, he went left, you went right. The vamp had wandered into another part of the house, leaving the picturesque country living room empty. You ignored the dust fairies swirling in the sunlight, choosing instead to focus on the next doorway. It was getting harder to hold the blade up high enough to hit anything. Wave after wave of pain surged through you as your cramps hit near peak intensity. As usual, the morning meds weren’t doing much. Between the cold sweat and the pounding heart, you were sure the vamp would find you soon enough. The goal was to distract him enough to take him out, but your sight was beginning to tunnel to five feet in front of you. You never saw the fist coming.
The vamp sent you sprawling and your machete clattering under the couch. He pinned your arms to either side with his knees and clamped his hands over your mouth, hovering just above sitting on your chest.
“Well hello there. I didn’t think I was expecting visitors, but you’ll do.” He leaned down and took a long sniff up the side of your face. “Hmm. There’s something wrong with your blood, love. You know, one little bite will fix all that.”
“Ngho Phank Wu,” you mumbled through his fingers. You kicked your legs, hoping to get the boys’ attention.
“Don’t worry. Your friends will be down shortly, but with a new stamina I’m sure you’ll appreciate.” He laughed openly as you struggled beneath him, intent on signaling Dean before he or Sam went upstairs.
“Hey, douche bag!”
The vamp looked up just in time to be beheaded. You were sprayed with blood and yelled to Dean, “there’s more upstairs!” He dashed off, leaving you to gather yourself and follow him.
Only you couldn’t.
The cramps controlled your body now. Your skin felt like it was vibrating. You could hear your breaths coming out in short bursts. The air that should have been coming in was nowhere to be found. Ceiling turned into wall and turned into floor as you curled into a ball praying, willing the agony to go away. Dean came thundering down the stairs covered in blood and proud of himself. Then he saw you.
“Y/N!” He kneeled by your side and cradled your head in his lap. “What’s wrong? Did he turn you?”
“No,” you gasped out before curling up again.
“I’m taking you to a hospital, now.”
“No. We’re covered in blood. Too many questions. Just get me to the car and my bag.” His face hovering over you upside down was the last thing you saw before blacking out.
The tree line breezed by in brilliant shades of green.
“Hang on, Y/N. We left your bag at the motel. Just, hang in there. Please.”
You mentally compared his irises to the trees before fading out again.
When you woke up Dean was sitting next to you with your meds and a glass of water. You felt warm and appreciated that he had dressed you in your usual sleeping clothes.
“Steady,” he murmured while he propped you up. You took the pills and the water, swallowing both in turn and not looking at him. You could feel him practically buzzing with questions, but he waited for you to finish the glass. You sat up further on the bed and realized he had also found your heating pad. He sat against the headboard next to you and put his arm around your shoulders. “How are you feeling?”
“No worse than usual.” You found a stain on the wall to focus on when his eyebrows shot up.
“What was that, Y/N? That can’t be usual!”
Unfortunately, it is. “Dean, I’ve been living with this for a while. It’s not something you get used to, per say, but there are ways to circumnavigate the pains.”
“Why didn’t you ask Cas to do something?”
You found a different spot on the wall. “We’re busy fighting things a lot bigger than my Endo.” Shit.
“Your what?”
“Endometriosis. It’s what my disease is called.”
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “The second Cas gets enough mojo back, we are zapping it away, no matter what. Deal?”
You curled into his chest as the meds kicked in, easing the pounding in your stomach. “Deal.”
Sleep was probably a few minutes away when there was a knock at the door. Dean leaped out of the bed and pulled out his wallet. “In the meantime, I ordered food.” He paid the pizza guy and turned to show you the pie with all your favorite toppings, even the ones he doesn’t like. “And when we’re ready for dessert, the motel office had an ice cream cooler.”
Pizza and ice cream. Your usual go-to cramp food. He’d been paying attention.
“What did I do to deserve you?”
Dean chuckled. “The real question is who did you piss off to get stuck with me?” He pulled the covers over his legs as he joined you in the bed. “Because you are stuck with me, sweetheart.” He took a slice and began to pick off the undesirables. “So, how long have you had endomet…metro… the thing?”
“Since I was about twelve. I was in class thinking they were normal pains, then I woke up in the nurse’s office. That was long before I started hunting. I learned how to deal with the pain in a normal life.” Your voice dropped off to barely a whisper, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been hunting alone and collapsed like that.”
“What do they feel like, if you don’t mind talking about it?”
“Like getting stabbed. And considering that I know how that feels, it’s accurate. It’s never just one jab though. It’s all day, and usually lasts the whole week.”
Dean leaned his forehead against the side of your head. “Shit, Y/N. I had no idea. Besides the food and the meds and the heating pad, what do you usually do to keep them at bay?”
You smiled. “Sleep usually. Focus on being research central for you and Sam. Some of the yoga Sam taught me helps, but I have to be willing to move in the first place.”
“Next time you need someone to motivate you to do yoga, I’ll join you. Only if we do it in the garage, where Sam can’t see!”
You giggled at the mental image of Den trying to hold tree pose and not fall over. You would definitely find the effort just to see that.
“Now what? Do you want to sleep?”
You shook your head. “Pizza was too good. But… can you…” you hovered between wanting to be pampered and not wanting to be a bother. “Can you get me some more water… please?” Out of nowhere, Dean handed you another glass. You peeked around him to the lamp table between the beds to see a small army of glasses filled with water. And one with what looked like whiskey.
Dean shrugged with a nervous grin. “You were out for a while. I may have panicked a little.” He smiled in full when you giggled. “Okay, what’s your usual next step?”
“Netflix.”
You were a sucker for Bollywood films, and “Bang Bang” was probably your favorite. Dean kept his mouth shut about having to read the movie, but he laughed more as the film pulled him in. Even your favorite songs weren’t enough to pull your focus back to the laptop screen. Dean was pressed close against you and steadying the tech on his knees. You slept perfectly that night curled into his chest. No sex, minimal pain, just cuddling into his warmth better than the best heating pad. Having him next to you, knowing what you were going through and being supportive, was more effective than any medical remedy.
Rain smut with any male character or actor you want to imagine.
Pairing: open
Warnings: SMUT. Rain sex
Word Count: 390 (Short, but intense)
Note: There was a thunderstorm. I was inspired. I’m not sorry. If it’s sunny where you are, I recommend using: Rainy Mood. NSFW below the cut.
Petrichor they call it. The smell of the earth when it finally rains after a dry spell. When the trees and flowers and grasses shed their protective layers of self-made wax that formally held in moisture.
That’s what he smells like. The musk of fresh earth rejoicing in rain.
It comes out the most when he loves you during a thunderstorm. He starts with misting kisses across your lips and your neck. Then he lands big, wet open-mouthed ones as he leans closer to you. You are surrounded by him. His arms. His legs. They are always tangled in yours not matter if you’re sitting on the couch or hiding in a dark corner. Static builds between you like clouds rolling into each other. Then lighting strikes. A tweak of your nipple. His fingers digging tighter into your skin. His hips jumping against yours so you can feel him. As the storm rolls in, he dips his hand down your sweatpants or under your skirt to tug your panties down your legs, if you’re wearing any. You feel his chest rumble when he finds how pleased and ready you are. Like how the wind stirs into a frenzy he pulls moans and gasps and soft cries from your lips, all the while swallowing them with his. You reach the eye of the storm as he crescendos his movements.
For a moment, the air is still as he works your through the high, pulling you back to the ground. Or further into his bed.
Then the next wave starts.
The end of a storm is the fiercest, for it has to be strong enough to push forward everything that has come before. He pulls you closer, pushes you under, smothers you with his warm breath on your neck as he sinks into you. Lighting strikes you again as he stretches you. Angles to crash into the place that makes you cry his favourite sound. His hips thunder into you. The air heats up as you both near the end. Rain and lightning and thunder cease as you both still, feeling the high of the other and flying off the feeling of the other soaring.
You smell him as he pulls you to his chest and falls asleep. It glistens on him in the moonlight, sunlight, or no light at all.
Y/N walks down the aisle to marry Theoric, and Loki is nowhere in sight…
Characters: Y/N, Theoric, Loki, Frigga, Odin
Warnings: fluff
Word Count: 1570
Note: Here is the final instalment of Promises! I might write a honeymoon *eye wiggle* epilogue if enough people ask for one. Otherwise, I hope you all have enjoyed this series as much as I have writing it. Please do not hesitate to give constructive criticism, like, reblog, or shoot me a request. Enjoy!
Frigga stood under an arch set up on the edge of the Bifrost. The courtiers stood in a semicircle with a gap down the middle from where you stood to the arch. Banners fluttered in the wind as your parents walked on either side of you, holding your hands in theirs. In front of you, Frigga stood waiting with Theoric. He smiled at you, eyes gleaming. You beamed back at him but searched with the corners of your eyes.
Green and gold were nowhere to be seen.
You stepped onto the edge of the Bifrost feeling less content and more unsure. Theoric took your hands from your parents. His felt like ice against the nervous heat in yours. He gave them a squeeze as Frigga began.
“There is nothing more perfect in all the branches of Yggdrasil than the coming together of two souls. Two pasts becoming one future. Lord Theoric, please present your future to your bride.”
Theoric reached to his side and unclipped the scabbard there. He unsheathed the blade halfway and held it out in front of his face. “This blade of my ancestors I pass along to you to one day pass along to our sons. May you keep it as a sign of my love and trust for you.” He sheathed it with a click and handed it to you. You, in turn, handed it back to your parents in exchange for another blade.
Holding the blade out like Theoric did you said, “this blade, newly forged, is a symbol of my love and my trust in you to defend me and our children.” He took it and clipped it to his side.
Frigga took a brightly coloured ribbon from an attendant. She brought your and Theoric’s right hands together and began to wrap the ribbon around them. “Do you, Theoric Sindrison of Anaheim, take Y/N to be your wife in all things wonderful, and all things terrible, till eternal separation?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Y/N of Asgard, take Theoric to be your husband in all things wonderful, and all things terrible, till eternal separation?”
“I do.”
Theoric took your other hand so all twenty of your fingers were intertwined.
“Then I now present you as wife and husband. You may seal this bond with a kiss.
You felt lightheaded as Theoric slipped off your engagement ring and kissed you. The air around you shimmered but gave you the sense of flying.
When you stepped back Loki was looking down at you.
Angry voices echoed through the halls before bursting into Frigga’s audience hall. Your parents and Theoric’s parents, Sindri and Erna, followed her closely and bickered between themselves. Loki was still tied to you, hindering him from hallway carrying you in your lightheadedness.
“Loki, what is the meaning of this?” Frigga turned, livid in a way you had never seen before. “Of all days for tricks, this was not one of them. Y/N is your best friend; how could you even conceive to…”
“Mother, my queen, hear me out. Test this ring.” He tossed her the band of gold that Theoric gave to you. You felt steadier on your feet as she carried it away to an onyx dish.
She spun it, like a child with a coin. The ring twirled faster and faster till it levitated above the dish and began to shine brightly. “Stars above…” she whispered. She looked up at you with shame creasing her brow. “I am sorry, my child. I should have sensed something this powerful.”
“What does this mean?” your mother begged, wringing her hands.
“It means Theoric enchanted her.” Loki looked back to you. His eyes were not proud like they would be in triumph. If anything, they looked sad. “Here,” he handed you Theoric’s translated notes.
You felt your cheeks flush as you skimmed them and the enchantment crumbled apart in your mind. Threads wove together and you gasped. “He was planning something. With the Fire Giants. All those spells he helped me translate. They felt simple at the time, but… they still should have been over his skill level.” You leapt to stand before Frigga, dragging Loki behind you. “Portals. He was translating spells about portals. Using the Bifrost shards in the palace’s foundations. We have to seal them.”
Frigga marched past you, “I’ll send for the other sorceresses. Keep reading to see if he marked where in the foundations these portals could be summoned.”
You and Loki moved to follow her, but Sindri blocked his path. “Where is our son?”
The hall fell silent as Loki found his words.
“He is where his allegiances lie, in Muspelheim. Possibly in one of their dungeons.” You saw the grin he tried to hide. “They think he is me.”
Erna had to be caught by Sindri as her knees gave away. Frigga conjured a cup of water and led Erna to a window seat. “We will get him back, Lady Erna. But we must act quickly to protect everyone here. Can I depend on you to help and not to hinder?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
Within an hour, the sorceresses had been gathered and Odin was sent for. You watched from a window in the hallway outside as the Bifrost roared to life and Odin came across with a few chief officers, but not including Thor. A short time later, he stormed into the hall where the mechanism had been built.
“I thought you said the test was a failure, Frigga, so why are you trying it now on a full scale? I won’t have your protégé destroying Asgard before the Fire Giants get here.”
“It will not be a full-scale test. Show him, Lady Y/N.”
You stepped forward with a new palace model built on a Bifrost shard. “We are going to try again with this. If it fails again, then our only line of defence will be you and the warriors stationed along the Musepelheim convergence. While I do not doubt their skill, if this works I would like to keep this magic secret from our enemies for as long as possible.”
Odin sighed. “So be it.”
You joined the other sorceresses around the small round table set up to one side. “Again, is everyone enchantment and jewellery free? Even the small spells to alter perception?” The women nodded. A few looked a little tired in the face where they weren’t before, but they looked stronger as a whole. “Then let us begin, and pray that Yggdrasil grants us this victory.”
As one, you all lowered your arms and turned your palms to the center. You started the chant first and the others fell in with their phrases, newly memorized. Gold light eased out of your palms like a mist, then turned red as each formation spread to touch the others. It danced and slithered along the table, reaching the Bifrost shard and the model. It began to spin faster and faster as your voices echoed louder in the space. Again, the orb formed around the model, turning back to gold as the strands touched at the apex. The chanting reverbed into silence as you all stopped.
You waited tensely for the explosion, but it never came. The orb, golden where it was blue in the last attempt, continued to spin.
“Stöðva,” you said, tapping the apex. The orb slowed and melted away, revealing the intact palace model inside.
“Does that convince you, Odin?” Frigga asked, turning to her husband.
He nodded. “You may proceed after we have traveled through the Bifrost.” He gave you a curt bow and then turned on his heel.
Loki was by your side in an instant. He lifted you into his arms and spun you around. “That was wonderful, Y/N. I caught the end of the test. The convergence that Theoric used has been warded, and his room has been shielded from receiving messages.”
One of the other sorceresses stepped up. “And Odin has left through the Bifrost.”
“Then let us begin,” you said with a smile. You led the sorceresses to stand around the mechanism and started the chant. It worked as with the model. As the orb spun, a golden curtain rose from the Bifrost material in the ground around the palace to the top of the center tower. The mechanism continued to spin as the curtain closed.
“It worked,” you whispered.
A second later the hall rang with cheers. You could hear other such cries of delight echoing through the palace.
Loki wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. “It worked. You are absolutely brilliant, Lady Y/N.”
“You can drop the title you know. We are married after all.” You stifled a giggle at his confused face. “We went through the ceremony, even if you had a different face for the most of it.”
“For nearly all of it,” he chuckled.
“And we sealed it with a kiss, which brought you out into the open. By all legal standards, we are married.” You laughed as he spun you around again, steadying yourself against his torso as he set you back to your feet.
“I promised I would marry you by the next Belewe moon!”
“And you kept your promise, no matter how many times I tried to push you away.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. “I love you, Loki.”
Prompt: “Hello! Can I have a Sherlock smut image based on the song Show Me by Bruno Mars? Thank you!!
Pairing: Sherlock x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: SMUT, intellectual smut
Word Count: 800+
Note: Thanks to @moonlight-dean for this request. Sorry it took so long, but hopefully it’s worth the wait. I hope you all enjoy it. Please reblog, comment, or like to let me know how you feel about this fic. If you have an idea, send me a request!
She looked perfect. Her hair ringed her face, which was glowing in the moonlight. Her lips were plump from the kissing they just broke away from. Sherlock wanted to taste them again, engorge himself on her flavour and move with her like they did when lost in one another.
“Sherlock?”
Her voice pulled his eyes up to hers. They were gleaming.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head. Why don’t you show me what you’re thinking?”
He growled low. There were so many things flying through his mind, too many to do all at once for it is impossible to move fast and to move slow. Or is it?
Y/N reached up and twirled her fingers in his hair, then tugging just slightly. In an instant, Sherlock was sucking at her neck. She squirmed underneath him, gasping and pressing her chest up against his. He snaked a hand up under her top, spidering touches across her skin till it raised in chill bumps. Sherlock’s lips honed in on her pulse point as he kneaded her breasts. She lifted up so he could remove her top and toss it somewhere in the room. She took that moment to rub her hand over his erection. The pull of the boxer fabric and the warmth of her hand sent him crumpling to one side.
“Mmm,” she hummed, working her fingers under the waistband. “Let’s relieve some of that tension, shall we?” She sat on his chest once he was free. Her weight pleasantly rubbed her core up and down against him till he broke out into a sweat.
She was good. And she knew it.
At this rate, he knew he wasn’t going to last ten minutes.
She giggled as he flipped them and pinned her arms underneath her. He watched her face as he played his fingers up her leg and her thigh to her sex. She moaned at him, pleading, as he ghosted over her mound. Y/N gasped as he began to pump his middle finger into her, curling it and playing. She cried out when he found the right place. Sherlock gently pressed against her hips, preventing her from bucking. He noted how her skin glistened brighter than his own sheen. He could never voice the words to her of how much he loves seeing her this way.
Lost in euphoria. Shivering with rising anticipation. Eyes fluttering and asking “please” over and over again till he gives her what she wants.
Sherlock adds another digit, widening her and curling them alternately till her walls clamp around them. She cries out in pleasure. His favourite sound.
He guides her through the aftershocks, stroking her to sooth her shivering. She sinks into the sheets with a sigh. Her eyes open to find his staring down at her, memorising the lines of her face. How long did he dream of this? Memorising how her cheeks flush when she smiles at him? How her eyelashes curl and meet one another as she blinks? How her brow creases just a little as he leans down to press his forehead against hers?
“I could memorise you forever,” he murmurs.
Her arms wobble like jelly as she pulls them to her sides, then up to his shoulders. She drags her legs open so he can slot himself between them. Her fingernails rake at his back as he slowly sinks in, relishing in the warmth and the grip she has on his cock and his mind.
He focuses on how her chest is flushed with heat as it presses into his.
She bucks her hips up to meet him, mewling for him to move. He pulls out and slams back into her. He tries to keep focused on her, on his favourite sound that she’s making, instead of losing everythig to himself. Y/N. Gasping and moaning. She curls her legs around him, pulling him further into her. Digging her fingers into his back.
Skin on skin and their mingled mangled breaths echo in the room. The build is coming to a head. The pull of her walls around him pushes away every mental faculty. Even to breathe.
He forces her arms into the sheets, holding his palms against her wrists. Her pulse is quick. Stuttering as her walls clamps down on him, pulling a cry from him.
Time dilates.
He spills into her, stilling as each rope throbs through him. She jolts as he continues to thrust as each one coats her insides.
His muscles fail him as he falls to one side, panting. She wiggles closer to him, curling into his chest. Her breath is faint and silent and cool on his chest.
He can feel her heartbeat with his. He counts beats like seconds till his vision fades out, lost in her scent and the feel of her skin on his. An island of two.
Pairing: Reader x Jack Gallagher, appearances by Roman Reigns and Xavier Woods
Warning: Snow fluff, giggle alert
Word Count: <500
Note: My first WWE fic! This came out of nowhere but made me giggly. I’m using everyone’s wrestler names for clarity. Please let me know what you think of it! And please like, reblog, and send me more WWE fic ideas.
Roman nearly collided with you around a corner. “Y/N, it’s snowing outside!”
You raced Roman to the arena garage, trying to be the first one out in the fluff. It was falling heavily and sticking to every surface in sight. You spun around in it, giggling as the cold stuck to your cheeks and hair.
It seems it had been falling for a while because the cars outside were already heavily dusted. Dusted enough to clump together.
“Hey, Ro…”
He didn’t have enough time to react till the snowball hit him full in the face. You bent in half with laughter as he sputtered and shook.
“Oh, it’s on now, little girl.” He raked his big hands over a windshield and made a ball twice as big as yours. Thankfully you were always good at dodgeball.
“Snowball fight!” Xavier ran out and caught a hit in the chest meant for you. In minutes, there were at least ten wrestlers in the parking lot throwing everything they could at each other.
A spark of red hair caught your attention, becoming your next target.
“Bloody hell!” Jack said. The snowball had hit his shoulder, spraying his face as it broke apart. He glared at you till it morphed into a smirk. “Do not think I will go easy on you just because you are a lady.”
“Please don’t,” you sassed. You ran further into the parking lot, laughing as the snow began to fall heavier in big wet clumps. You turned with fresh ammunition, only to drop it as your face was filled with snow. Jack crowed with delight as you shuddered. He was by your side in an instant.
“Let’s get that warmed up, shall we?” He pressed his nose to yours, then tilted to kiss you. You would have been warm had the next snowball not caught the both of you.
Roman stood frozen, waiting for your paired reaction.
You looked at Jack, and he smirked at you. As one you each formed a snow ball.
“Oh, shi…” Roman dashed to one side, missing Jack’s throw. Yours, on the other hand, hit him in the chin. He recovered quickly and dove into the fray, peppering The New Day with snowball after snowball behind their car fort.
“What do you say we find a warm corner and have some cocoa?” Jack hugged you close.
“It’s going to be quite the gauntlet.” You nodded towards the volley of snowy projectiles between you and the gate.
“Then I suggest we run.”
You squealed as he pulled you after him, shrieking when you got hit. You dumped one last handful of snow down the back of his neck before he reached the gate, then raced away with him close on your heels.
Notes: I am describing Michael Mulligan more towards the way the archangel is depicted in art. Adam would not be in the same weight division as Dean, and I couldn’t find a good way to explain otherwise. Either way, I liked giving Michael Adam’s last name. Please enjoy and please like/comment/reblog. As always, my requests are open, and I’m going to need some as this series comes to a close. Bring me your obscure characters and receive a fic in any style (fluff, smut, angst) you like.
Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”
For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.
Sam’s face was swollen from the repeated blows. His neck was in a brace. With the pillows wrapped around him, he looked smaller. No mean feat. Cas and Bobby stood to one side of the room, looking between the brothers. Y/N could feel Dean’s grip tighten, so she squeezed back. He blinked and looked down at their hands. He ran his thumb over her knuckles as he put on a smile.
“Heya, Sammy,’ he said softly.
Sam opened his eyes, which were thankfully not swollen shut.
“Hey, Dean. Y/N.” He tried to sit up further in the bed but Dean rushed forward to push him back down.
“You don’t need to move at all.”
Sam grunted in agreement. “How’d the after party go with Raphael?”
“I’m supposed to lose. Mulligan is one of theirs too.”
Bobby groaned. “Michael Mulligan?” He growled as Dean nodded. “I was afraid of that. Raphael’s got the northern canvas so tight I couldn’t get any information about the head of the ring. Style-wise, he’s good. He took out the Prince of Darkness in the south to win semifinals.”
“The finals aren’t for another week,” Sam said. “You’ll have plenty of time to…”
“To what, Sam? I’m supposed to lose.”
Sam looked at Dean with his nose wrinkled in confusion. Then he looked at Y/N, who focused her attention on the floor. “Oh.”
“And if it’s not Y/N, they’re going to come by the hospital for a visit. I can’t win.”
The hospital room swelled with silence as everyone tried to come up with a solution. No matter which way they turned it, an answer did not present itself.
All through the week, Cas left the Winchesters, Y/N, and Bobby at the hospital while he went back to the ring. His former injuries kept him from competing, but he still had his hearing. He talked to boxers from before the reign of Raphael, people who were still allies, but none of them knew any more information about Michael. He knew who he had to talk to, but it wasn’t going to be easy.
Uriel watched Balthazar like a hawk.
His only chance was to find him outside the ring. It was a weekend, and Balthazar wasn’t due to show for another hour, so Cas found a quiet corner and watched the others train. Even with a match that night, the guys were trying to keep loose. A while later, Cas knit his brow in confusion as a visitor came in followed closely by the boss’s satellite himself. Cas guessed the big man was Michael. He was broad shouldered and narrow waisted, strong but hard to hit. His knuckles were thick from breaking repeatedly, something Cas could see on several of the better boxers in the ring. He knew Michael was good, and Cas had never even seen him fight. If Uriel was with him, then Balthazar was without his traditional guard.
He left for Balthazar’s usual back entrance and waited outside. He grinned as the referee quickly rounded the corner and bumped into him.
“Castiel! Um, I’m going to be late for… something. Excuse me.” He tried to shoulder his way past, but Cas blocked his path.
“That something wouldn’t happen to be a meeting with Raphael’s northern progeny, would it?”
Balthazar was taken aback. He started to form an excuse but sighed instead. “What happened to this city, Cas?”
“Men with too much power and not enough chin took hold. What’s Raphael’s play?”
“You know I couldn’t tell you that, even if I did know.” Again, Balthazar tried to step by, and again Cas kept him from taking another step.
“Would you tell me if you knew? We used to be ring brothers.”
“I know that, but Raphael is different. I know I can trust you, but he’s got so many guys scared or in his pocket that I can’t trust my own shadow. If you make me late, I won’t even have that.”
Cas kept him from opening the door, drawing out a frustrated groan. “A hint. A guess. What do you think is going to be the plan?”
Balthazar sighed, kicking himself for not using another door. “I don’t think Dean is going to make it out of this fight. What nobody knows about the Prince of Darkness is that he’s tied up in his own hospital, practically in a coma. Michael fights for himself as much as he does for Raphael. If he knows Dean is public enemy number one, and that he’s going to get paid to make it look good… Dean better hope he’s got life insurance.” Balthazar took the moment of Cas’s shock to make his way inside, leaving Cas with a brain full of dark, swirling thoughts. Then he was off like a shot, only to lose consciousness as something hit him in the back of the head.
It was getting close to when Dean was supposed to show up to the ring, and they still had not heard from Cas. The final match was to be in the center of town, “neutral ground” between the rings. And it was in the middle for ease of fan access, meaning more money.
“Where is he? I told him hanging around the canvas all week wasn’t a good idea.” Dean was leaned against the wall, but Sam was counting down to when he would start pacing.
Y/N saw the look and stood to keep him from starting. “Maybe he’s found something out. You know we could use the information, and good information takes time. If you don’t think he’ll make it back in time…”
“No. If Castiel doesn’t show up, you are going to stay here with Sam.”
“Like hell, I am.” She poked him in the chest, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “No more polite doormat, remember? And that goes for speaking to you too.”
“The plan is to not let them catch us together.” He took her hand from its position on his chest and held it in his, noting its delicateness. His voice fell, borderline to a breaking point. “I’m not going to let them force you to watch the match from the office. And I don’t trust Uriel not to…” Dean glanced at Sam, who nodded in agreement.
“I’ve convinced one of the nurses to bring in a radio,” Sam said. “You won’t miss a second of the match, and afterwards Bobby is going to sneak in some drink from his prohibition days,” he added with a grin.
Dean looked down at her, his eyes begging her to stay. She shook her head, punching out as much air from his chest as a blow from Cole.
“I am not staying here. Now, Dean Winchester, are you going to let me ride with you, or are you going to call me a cab?”
He sighed and walked over to the phone, dialing the number. “Hello, I would like to call a cab to Southern Indiana State Hospital.” He looked at Y/N one last time as the receiver asked how many passengers.
“Just two.”
Black faded into a bright white before fading once again into black. Castiel continued to blink slowly, bringing the world into focus. He found himself laying under the stars in the back alley. He launched to his feet instantly regretting moving too fast. He steadied himself against the wall while thinking over what Balthazar told him. As soon as he could see straight, he made his way to the street and hailed a cab.
“So, are we undercover, or…?” Jo whispered to Y/N. She took the bag of popcorn from the vendor and passed it to Claire.
“No. Dean didn’t want to leave me alone. He’s so sure the opposition will do anything to get to him, even if we haven’t been seeing each other long.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough when coupled with free tickets to the fight.
“Do you think we could continue to get tickets even if he loses? Ouch.” Claire rubbed her shoulder where Jo smacked it. Y/N grinned. The world could be ending and these two would never change.
From the corner of her eye, Y/N spotted a ruffled top of black hair towering over everyone else. “Castiel!” She waved at him till he located her, but took as step back as he stormed over to her.
“Y/N, where’s Dean?” He gripped her arms tight and pulled her to one side of the crowd. “Why are you alone?”
“He’s in his locker room getting ready. And I’m not alone, I’m with my roommates. Castiel, this is Jo and Claire.” She nodded to the girls as they caught up.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he rushed out. “We’ve got to get to Dean.”
“Why, what did you… hey girls?” Y/N turned to Jo and Claire as Cas let go of her. “Go ahead and claim our seats. They’re assigned for the night, but people might try to fight the system.”
“What about… sticking to you?” Claire asked, looking leerily at Castiel, who mirrored her expression.
“I’m with Cas. You had to hear some of that, he’s a friend of Dean’s. And he’s a boxer, so I’ll be well defended.” She laughed when they didn’t budge. “Just go.” Y/N waited till they were halfway to their seats before continuing. “Okay, so what did you hear?’
“Balthazar thinks Dean’s not going to make it out of the fight alive.”
“Balthazar Smith? The referee?”
“Yeah. He’s usually under Uriel’s thumb, but he’s been getting squirrely lately. He doesn’t like how the matches have turned in this last season.”
Y/N hummed in thought. Mostly to herself than to Cas she asked, “would he be squirrely enough to…?”
“No.”
“What?” She brought her attention back up to Cas. “I didn’t even finish my thought.”
“Dean told me about that face. He said you promised him…”
“I did. But he claimed nobody would talk. If Balthazar would talk, maybe he could inspire the rest of the guys too. Do you know which ones would be willing?”
Cas pursed his lips. “I can name several, but a greased palm could take this plan out before it got started.”
“And you? If you could help make sure no other boxers get hurt because of Raphael, would you do it?” Y/N watch his face as it contorted between ‘yes’ and ‘hell no.’ She grinned as he slid into a hesitant ‘yes.’ “Good. Now, where’s a phone?”
The door swung open as Bobby was helping Dean into his colors, John’s fighting coat. Uriel floated in. His smug mug made Dean want to punch it. Then again, it could be not smug and Dean would still want to punch it.
“So, tonight’s the night you retire. I’m sorry to see you go, Winchester.”
“I’m sure you are.” Dean turned to let Bobby check his gloves, counting the seconds till he would leave.
“Aren’t you going to ask what the script is? For old time’s sake.”
Dean groaned through gritted teeth. “What’s the script?”
“I’m going to miss that. And I’m going to miss seeing you bloodied in the ring. The fifth, Winchester. And stick to it this time. We’ve got all your aces.” He left before Dean could give a retort.
Bobby let go of his gloves and snapped in front of Dean’s eyes. “What did you decide?”
“Sam says I should fight to win. Y/N says I should fight to win. But I have this stone in my stomach telling me I should follow the plan one last time and maybe nobody gets hurt.” He paused for a moment, letting his next question float around a bit, hoping Bobby would answer it before he could ask.
Bobby knew that look. He’d seen it when John asked him to help him start the ring. He never could turn down a Winchester.
“Balls. I think you should fight to win too.” He stopped a grinning Dean from saying anything. “But don’t let that make you sloppy. Michael’s a hard hitter. Block your stomach and guard your face. You’re buying the first round tonight if you let him cut open your eye again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright. They should call soon, so show me your shadow punches.”
Y/N slapped the side of the receiver. “Please, it’s urgent. I need to speak to the Captain.” Cas looked at her through the door to the phone box. She waved away his worried glance.
“I can’t just let you through ma’am. We have…”
“Oh, just put her through,” an accented voice said in the background. “Line two if you can manage it.” There was a buzz and a click before she heard the voice again. “Captain Crowley of Chicago PD. What can I do for you today miss…?”
“Y/N. You have to stop the match at LaMotta Arena tonight.”
“And why would I do that? Maybe I’ve got some money riding on one of them myself.”
The statement made her stop cold. She pushed through the idea that Uriel had gotten to him. “Because I know you would love a chance for some good publicity. I’ve got songbirds for you, Captain. Good ones. Break up the fight tonight and you’ll have a massive shot at something bigger than you’ve ever caught before.” A little Hollywood, maybe, but it was worth a shot. Y/N waited with baited breath as the line remained silent for a hot minute.
“Do you have a songbird nearby that I can talk to?”
She held the mouthpiece to her shoulder and exhaled. She motioned for Cas to come into the phone box. She handed him the phone and shut the door, taking her turn to stand guard. He came out a few minutes later looking pale and relieved at the same time.
“He’ll do it. He’s rounding up a squad and he’ll be here by the fifth round. He can’t make it any sooner.” Cas chuckled. “Considering the speed of the force in other incidents, this will be like lightning.”
As they walked to the seats, Y/N asked, “how do we get the news to Dean?” They looked up as the doormen gave the five-minute warning.
“We don’t. If this goes south, it will look better on the Uriel side if he doesn’t know. I’ll find a way to signal Bobby.”
Y/N shook her head to silence Jo and Claire’s questions as they found their seats. The buzz was quieting down before the announcer stepped towards the ring. Dean and Michael were still in their tunnels, awaiting the call.
“Remember what I said, keep your face blocked, and jab him before he can jab you.”
“You said that already. Any more times and I’ll hear it in my sleep. Ow.” Dean flinched as Bobby smacked him up the backside of his head.
“Don’t get smart. I was there when you were brought into the world, I don’t want to be here when they take you out. Don’t let it be tonight, Dean.”
They both looked towards the ring, glowing outside the comforting dark of the tunnel. The announcer was calling out the usual pleasantries and requesting that nobody smoked.
“Bobby?”
“Yeah.”
“No matter what happens, thank you for all you’ve done for me and Sam.”
Bobby nodded and patted Dean on the back. Then they walked out into the lights as Dean’s name was called.
“In this corner is Dean ‘Raisin’ Cain’ Winchester! Weighing one hundred and seventy-five pounds and wearing the black shorts with the white stripe. He wears his father’s, John Winchester, colors tonight as he makes his way to the ring.”
Y/N craned her neck to see him, but there were too many people. Even as he made his way under the ropes, people had their arms in the air cheering for them.
“In the other corner is our other semi-finalist for tonight, Michael “Feather Feet” Mulligan. Weighing one hundred seventy-two and a half pounds and wearing the white shorts with black stripes. He wears the red and gold colors on his way to the ring.”
Y/n could see him plain. He was like Cas described to her earlier. He didn’t bounce or shadow-box his way to the ring, just walked. Marched to it. Like this was the battle that he intended to win the war with. Y/N sent up a prayer to anyone who was listening that Dean could hold him off till Captain Crowley and the squad arrived.
Deana and Bobby met Michael and his trainer in the middle of the canvas.
Balthazar swallowed a throat-full of air and asked for a fair fight. He had them bump gloves, then sent them to their corners. The match hadn’t even started yet and he was already sweating. He jumped as the opening bell rang.
Dean bounced out to meet Michael. They jabbed out at each other, testing the range of their opponent. Michael landed the first hit, glancing off the side of Dean’s head. He followed with a quick series of one-twos to Dean’s ribs before Dean could catch him in a clinch. Michael continued to reach up to land blows to his head, which Dean returned till Balthazar separated them with difficulty.
Dean saw his opening as Michael reached in for his face. It glanced off his cheek, allowing Dean to dig in close and land several blows to Michael’s torso before ending with a sweeping uppercut. Michael staggered back. He nodded with a mouth-guard smile.
Y/N sat on the edge of her seat in silence as the crowd around her screamed for their favorite. She kept her eyes on Dean as he circled Michael, bobbing and looking for a way in. She cringed as Michael swooped in to get Dean in a clinch. He thundered hits into Dean’s ribs until Balthazar separated them again.
“Come on Dean,” she whispered. Dean’s reaching blows kept being warded off by Michael’s glove. He stayed just out of reach, circling to Dean’s outside.
The crowd spun behind Michael and Dean watched his gloves for the next blow. Dean reached out as Michael did, giving a glove to the face as he received one. Then he zoomed into Michael’s chest, firing them as fast as he could till the bell rang.
He backed away to meet Bobby.
“That was good. Keep wearing him down. Try to aim lower, more to the stomach.”
Dean nodded as he took his mouth guard back, standing with the bell.
Sam pumped a fist into the air as the commentator relayed the fight.
“The pace is fast as ever, and the fight is even-Steven. Raisin’ Cain trying to drive those hard jabs into the body and face. Mulligan trying to get in murderous body blows of his own.”
He listened to the exchange of hits wired down to him. It sounded like rain on a tin roof, but Sam knew from experience how hard those drops could be. He flinched at a particularly heavy one, only to happily crow as the commentator kicked back in, laughing as a frowning nurse walked by.
“Winchester landing a seriously solid blow to Mulligan, doubling him over. Mulligan retreating to catch his breath. He’s still got that smile, though, enjoying the match. If he turns it one like he did in his last bout, Winchester will have to pick up his step. Otherwise, Winchester’s got this in the bag.”
It was too easy. Dean kept his distance when he could. Michael was encroaching on his space, making himself easy to hit, while at the same time limiting Dean’s ability to pull back for a harder hit. Dean bounced back as Michael round housed a blow into his ear. Dean shook his head through the ringing. He looked over Michael’s shoulder at Bobby to see if the ringing was outside or inside his head. He bit down harder on his guard when Bobby stayed on the floor.
Michael chased Dean to the ropes, cinching him again and hammering blows into Dean’s torso. Dean kept his abs tight, minimalizing the impact. But he took a second to take his breath back as Balthazar pulled Michael away. The bell rang, ending round three.
Bobby continued his flow of advice, but Dean barely heard it. He kept his gaze level as Michael stared at him from his own corner.
As they came out for the next round Dean could feel a shift in the air. Michael twisted his hips, putting his other foot in front. Michael advanced towards Dean quickly, too fast for Dean to retreat. He pulled back then released a hard uppercut into Dean’s chin.
Dean fell back into the ropes. The lights above him swam in circles. He could see a blurred Balthazar racing forward to stop Michael, but the blows to his upper chest hit first. The lights gave way to the canvas rushing up to meet him. He gasped for air, though his lungs burned and sent magma towards his heart. He landed on his gloves and knees, shuddering with the fall. He realized he made a mistake as he looked up, taking Michael’s jab to his face, sending him collapsing onto his shoulder. The world was ringing and glowing and moving like molasses, but Dean fought to climb up the ropes.
Y/N sat down as Dean wobbled to his feet. She could feel three concerned faces to either side of her but kept her gaze on Dean. He stumbled out into the center, pulling up his gloves as Michael attacked him again. She clenched her hands in her lap as Dean sent out weak jabs.
The police will be here soon. The police will be here soon. Please, God, let the police be here soon.
Dean felt Bobby catch him as the bell rang, ending the fourth round. He spat out the guard into Bobby’s hand.
“This guy is incredible,” he slurred, sputtering bloody spittle into the bucket. “It’s gonna be a hell of six more rounds.” He grinned sideways at Bobby, who didn’t fully grin back. He gave Dean back his guard and pulled his gloves over his face. Bobby pushed Dean to his feet as the bell rang. If he wanted to end with any shred of dignity, he would dive this round.
To hell with dignity. Time to clip those Feather Feet.
Dean brought his gloves together to catch Michael’s jabs. He shot out one, landing it to Michael’s crown. Michael rushed in, cinching Dean’s arms to his side and towering over him. He backed off before the ref could intervene, but circled back around. He was able to keep an arm loose as Michael trapped him again. He jabbed at Michael’s upper ribs, but it made his arm shudder to hit him. He was forced back into a corner, his shoulder blades dug into the iron pins. His breath was coming out in pants. Dean could feel Michael grinning at the labored rise and fall of his chest, too punch-happy to see it himself.
Michael let Balthazar push him back and waited for Dean in the middle. He shared a look with Balthazar. Dean wasn’t going to make it out in one piece even if he did fall now, the exchange proved it.
Dean took a breath, then launched himself at Michael. He didn’t keep his hands up as Michael pummeled his face. He didn’t let the blows make him retreat. He didn’t reach to hit back. He just forced his way into the center of the ring and stared Michael down.
“Oh no.” Cas moaned.
“What? What does that mean?” Y/N asked, tugging on his sleeve.
“Please Dean, don’t,” was all she could get out of him.
Dean buckled as Michael rained down hits to his back. He shouldered his way into Michael’s chest, forcing him backwards. He didn’t stop till Michael’s arms flew back as his spine collided with the opposite corner pins. Dean pulled back, then sent in as many punches as he could into Michael’s stomach till Balthazar pushed him away.
Michael roared through his guard and chased after him. He was hunched over, but that didn’t stop him from repeatedly sending his glove into Dean’s face. Dean squared his stance, refusing to give any ground even as his head snapped back with each hit. Michael started using both gloves, the other going into Dean’s chest cavity. His torso rippled with pain till his heart’s thumping turning into one long throb. With a deep breath that burned through him harsher than cheap whiskey, Dean swung. Michael spun and fell.
He turned and walked away a few steps as Balthazar swooped in to count. Dean dropped into the canvas as the bell rang, ending round five and the match. He found Y/N’s face as he fell, missing the swarm of police officers that rushed in through every door and tunnel.
His vision bounced and faded to black as pandemonium erupted around the arena.
Raphael stood by his window drinking his hardest Scotch as someone knocked on his door.
“Enter,” he said, watching the police round up his officials and gamble men. Dean stayed where he fell, unswarmed as people tried to avoid being handcuffed. Michael rolled out of the ring and got caught by a tunnel.
“Raphael, it’s been too long.”
He turned and watched Crowley step into his office. “Evening, Captain. Have I not been paying you enough?”
Crowley shook his head. “Not on your payroll. Not one copper.”
“Shame. Would you like to be?”
He thought for a second, eyeing the liquor stand next to a silent Uriel. “No.” He helped himself to some ice and a drink as two sub-officers walked in. “Cuff ‘em tight, boys. They’re slippery.” His revolver was in Uriel’s chest before he could surge forward.
Y/N fought her way to the ring, sliding under the ropes to get to Dean. Bobby was fighting his through the cops, trying to explain whose trainer he was. Dean’s face was pale despite the beating, and his lips were purple.
“No. Don’t do this to me. Dean Winchester, you wake up right now or… or… or I’m going to slap you.”
She let out a shuddering breath as he continued to do nothing. With a screech, she slapped him across the face, instantly bringing her hands to cover her sob.
“I take it I didn’t win if you’re hitting me,” Dean mumbled with his eyes still closed.
Y/N fell over his chest, crying with an irritated smile. “Don’t you ever fall like that again.”
Dean leaned up with a groan. “Does that mean there’ll be a next time?” His eyes glowed like candle-light through a bottle, mischievous. “You’re not ordering me to stop boxing?”
She sighed. “Hell, no. It’s who you are. Besides, my roommates want free tickets for the rest of their lives. Can’t keep up unless I’m dating a boxer.”
They shared a grin before Y/N helped him over to the edge. They sat and watched the chaos around them. On other sides of the apron, Jo and Claire cheered the police, and Bobby and Castiel laughed.
“I’m sorry you won’t get the belt,” Y/N said. “They’ll probably have a whole ‘nother season to figure this out, won’t they?”
“I don’t need a belt,” Dean said, kissing the top of her head.
“I wouldn’t be so sure that you lost it,” Crowley butted in, fighting with a handcuffed, gagged, and fuming Uriel. “The way that several of the witnesses have been singing, you’ve been fighting for real for the whole season. If that story keeps floating around, you might get the belt by default. Congratulations, Winchester.” He nodded at Dean and winked at Y/N, then disappeared into the crowd.
They laughed and Dean wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder.
“Are we still celebrating with Bobby’s booze and Sam?”
“Yeah. He’s gonna be frosted he missed all this.”
It took an hour or so, but they finally made it to the hospital where Sam was, indeed, incredibly angry that he missed the chaos. They had him calmed down to irritated within a few drinks.
Our Deepest Desires 