#*me running on five interrupted hours of sleep* god I hope this is funny send post

[pain-in-the-butler]

Alois fans: What do you need today, Alois? What enrichment would make your environment more nurturing? Would you like a new outfit? What about some friends and enemies to play with? Or how about a special new alternate universe that we designed just for you? We love you!

Ciel fans: 👈 into the microwave, boy

[tootiredmotel]

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: three years later and yoongi is still very much in love with y/n

according to my period tracking app i’m due in four days so that explains why i felt the sudden urge to sit down and write this 

also i had to go back and read the wedding drabble to double-check a minor detail and.,,.., barfs i am so sorry for all of the ceo!drabbles the writing is so tragic 

i hope u enjoy this small product of my sappiness <3 

➺ pairing; ceo!yoongi x y/n  

➺ genre; idk just very sappy and gooey and if ur a ceo!couple stan ur going to love this 

➺ wordcount; 1.4k

                                        »»————-　💞　————-««

the first thing yoongi finds especially odd when he steps into the penthouse is the fact that it’s a little too quiet for his liking

he purses his lips as he shuts the door behind him, blindly turning the lock with a quiet click as he looks around

sure, it’s almost midnight, but you’re usually tinkering around in the kitchen for a snack or watching netflix on the couch whenever he comes home late... so where are you now? 

he’s about to call out for you when he suddenly remembers that hwayoung’s definitely fast asleep by this hour and that you’d murder him in cold blood if he accidentally woke her up and ruined her sleeping schedule (she gets very grouchy when she’s not following a set schedule - and yoongi knows her sour morning attitude was probably inherited from him but he sleeps more peacefully at night thinking that it’s because of one of your genes) 

yoongi places his keys on the top of the shoe cabinet quietly before reaching down to yank his laces loose

“woah.” he holds his hands out to keep himself steady after he stands up too quickly and his head starts to spin and he starts to see double 

oof 

maybe he should’ve slowed down with the wine at dinner

it’s not his fault he’s so weak for a good red!

“shower time, showah time…” yoongi murmurs to himself as he makes his way up the spiral staircase, gripping onto the railings tightly so that he doesn’t slip on his way up, “would you like to join me? wanna come with? lemme soap you up, girl-” he slurs, smiling cheekily to himself at the possibility of being able to run his hands all over your body in a few short minutes

he gives himself a high five when he makes it to the top of the staircase successfully, wobbling for a split second before nodding to himself and giving himself a mental pat on the back  

B-)

nice

the warm light coming from the crack in the door leaks into the hallway and yoongi shuffles towards it like a moth towards a flame, reaching up to fumble at his tie with boneless fingers-

oh

yoongi immediately freezes once he reaches the door, his heart skipping a beat in his chest when he catches a glimpse of you wearing your wedding dress through the crack

he watches curiously as you smooth your hand over the neckline before turning from side to side to look at yourself in the mirror

he wasn’t expecting to see this when he came up here but he’s definitely not complaining 

yoongi presses his hand against the door frame to keep himself from accidentally stumbling in and scaring you and ruining what seems to be a private moment 

it’s just that seeing you in your dress again is triggering a sudden flood of memories of your guys’ wedding day into his mind and it’s making his heart feel all funny (it’s actually just heartburn from the wagyu steak he wolfed down earlier) 

the corners of yoongi’s mouth immediately raise in a fond smile at the recollection of you staring up at him with so much love in your eyes as he slid the silver ring onto your finger 

it was a beautiful ceremony

the food was great

the champagne was fabulous

the after-party was super fun 

the after-after party where it was just you and him alone was definitely fun as well 

he can still recall the scent of you all over him when he woke up the next morning 

and obviously the honeymoon was great - who doesn’t like paris?! 

not to mention, you still look just as beautiful as you did on the day the two of you said i do

maybe it’s just because the alcohol is making him feel all goopy inside but he wants to be a part of whatever moment you’re having!!! 

“i’m pretty sure it’s bad luck for me to see you in your wedding dress before the wedding, darling.” yoongi pushes the door open with a creak and takes his bottom lip in between his teeth to keep himself from smiling too widely, “want me to close my eyes?”

“yoongi!” you gasp, pulling your veil up and over your head as you spin around quickly, “god, i don’t understand how your footsteps are so quiet- i really think i should put a bell on you or something-”

“what are you doing?” yoongi interrupts, tilting his head curiously as he offers you a soft smile, “hopefully not wearing your dress so you can run off and marry someone else.”

“no, obviously not-” you snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, “i was doing some cleaning earlier and i found the box and… i don’t know, i wanted to see if i could still fit into it and… well-” you sigh, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror before flopping your arms down in defeat, “it doesn’t zip all the way up anymore.”

“to be fair, you’ve given birth to a child since our wedding.” yoongi raises a brow, glancing down at the zipper that’s stuck halfway up your back, “even if you didn’t fit into it at all it would still be totally fine-”

“yeah, but i had to suck in a lot just to get the stupid zipper up halfway-!” you whine quietly, pouting at yourself in the mirror before gesturing to your chest, “one sneeze and my boobs are going to pop out-”

“i wouldn’t be opposed to that-”

“you know, maybe i should’ve had spanx embedded into the dress instead of it being 100% silk because silk is not a very forgiving material-”

“oh, baby…” yoongi chuckles, slinking his arms around you from behind before leaning down to prop his chin up on your shoulder, “don’t be so hard on yourself! your body literally made a human being- forgive it if it can’t fit into a dress from, like, three years ago…”

“i guess…” you trail off, leaning back a little to rest your head against yoongi’s as you continue looking at yourself in the mirror with a pitiful little frown on your face, “it’s just hard to feel beautiful when i can’t fit into most of my old clothes…”

“hey, you cut that out right now.” the smile immediately drops from yoongi’s face and he frowns at you in the mirror disapprovingly, “so what if you can’t fit into the dress anymore? you’re beautiful and like, really hot and- and even after all this time i’m still super head-over-heels in love with you and you could be wearing a potato sack and i would still think you were the most beautiful woman to ever walk the planet and- and i love y-” 

“alright, you drunk, i get it.” you giggle lightly, reaching up to pat the side of yoongi’s warm face, “i love you more.”

“good.” yoongi smiles contently when it seems like you’ve cheered up a little from his (very good and extremely persuasive, in his opinion) pep talk, “love you most.” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your palm

“mhm. you reek of wine, by the way-” you wrinkle your nose playfully, letting yoongi sway you back and forth gently before reaching down to pat at his hand, “i think we should get you into the shower and then into bed.”

“i think we should get we into the shower and then into bed.” yoongi corrects you, pausing for a second to think over his words, “yeah. that makes sense.”

…,..,we should get we into the shower and then into bed…..,,.

that totally makes sense

you know what he means 

“i’m only joining you so that you don’t pass out halfway through and end up falling asleep against the wall like you did last time.” you remind him, though it’s obvious he’s hardly paying attention to what you’re saying because he’s too busy nipping at the side of your neck  

“mm. hey, you know what the best part is about the zipper not going all the way up?” yoongi grins, one of his arms sliding back from your waist so he can reach for the zipper, “it makes it much easier for me to get you out of this dress.”

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!) 

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[polaroid15]

With Great Power...

Chapter Three: With great power comes a great inability to sleep

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30579050/chapters/75545900

TW: panic attacks

------

As requested by Peter, Tony parks two blocks away from the school lot.

He idles his car and waits for the kid to appear with a careful eye in the rearview mirror. It’s just shy of five o’clock. Peter should be out of decathlon by now. His fingers itch to reach for his phone, to send the kid a flurry of texts until he materializes and puts him out of his low patience torture.

But with a righteous amount of self-control, he refrains. After what seems like decades Peter appears at the passenger door. He raps his knuckles against the window before slipping inside. Tony smiles at this, a warm fondness growing in his chest.

“Did you just knock on my car?”

Peter freezes in the middle of securing his seatbelt. “Uh, yeah? It’s polite.”

“Last week you and Thor had a competition to see who could down a two liter of Diet Coke the fastest.”

Lips quirking, Peter shrugs. “Your point?”

“That wasn’t very polite.”

“I won, didn’t I?”

“You sure did kiddo.”

Peter finishes buckling his seatbelt and shoves his heavy backpack down between his legs. The setting sun shines through the windshield into his eyes and Peter winces against it, reaching up to shield them. His hand shakes in the air and Tony’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “You alright kid?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah Mr. Stark. Totally. Long day is all.”

Unconvinced, Tony peels out onto the road. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

Sighing dramatically, Peter settles further into his seat. “I patrolled before school. Stopped a mugging. That was cool I guess. Then I took a couple exams. Decathlon, obviously. Oh, and I totally failed the beep test in gym-”

Tony raises a brow. “You failed the beep test?”

“On purpose!”

“Why the hell would you fail a test on purpose?”

“Because Peter Parker isn’t exactly a track star, Mr. Stark.”

God, this kid. Tony hopes the admiration doesn’t show on his face. “I see.”

“Anyways,” Peter plows on, caught in a yawn. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.”

“That’s a terrible answer.”

“Well it’s the one you’re getting.”

Peter scoffs. His eyes droop against the gentle rumble of the car. “You’re just as bad as Happy.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

Peter only smiles in response, eyes closing all the way. Tony lets the silence sit. He’s read enough of Karen’s reports to know that the kid hasn’t been sleeping well.

And good god can he relate.

They only make it through three Black Sabbath songs before Peter’s head dips down towards his chest. The momentum must shock him back into the waking world because he gasps, flailing out and landing one hand on Tony's arm and the other on the window. Immediately flushing, Peter yanks his limbs back into his chest. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“You can sleep. It’s okay kiddo.”

“No,” Peter says all too quickly. A chord of worry strikes in Tony’s chest. “I mean, I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be polite.”

“Pete, if you say that word one more time I swear I’ll set DUM-E on you.”

“Polite, polite, polite, polite-”

Something floods in Tony’s chest. It feels as if he’s being warmed from the inside out and for a moment, his concern for Peter’s health takes a place on his mind’s backburner. He cracks a smile. “Be sure to remember this moment Pete. You asked for it.”

-----

“Dr. Banner!” Peter drops his backpack heavily on the ground, skipping and stumbling into the lab and towards the man in question. Bruce is sitting in front of a laptop, the buttons on his shirt secured incorrectly and glasses sitting crooked on his nose. He smiles widely when he sees them. “Hey Peter. Tony said to expect you. How’ve you been?”

“Oh you know,” Peter says, giving Tony a pointed look, “the usual.”

Tony snorts as Peter pulls up a chair beside Bruce, propping his chin up on his hands and staring intently at the screen. After a few seconds his eyes light up. “No way! Is this skin-cell regeneration technology?”

Looking surprised, Bruce nods. “How did you-”

“He’s a smart cookie,” Tony interjects, walking up behind them and ruffling Peter’s hair. Peter swats him away, though he’s smiling.

“Is this what you and Mr. Stark are presenting tomorrow? At the conference?”

“Yep. Though procrastination hasn’t really done us any favours-”

“I’ll help!” Peter blurts.

Bruce looks to Tony like he’s a parent to grant permission. Trying to ignore the implications behind it, Tony concedes with a grin. “Oh what the hell. Where do we start?”

“Yes!”

----

The hours blur and melt together. So engrossed in their project, Tony doesn’t really notice Peter losing steam until he’s gripping the counter so tightly Tony knows it can only be to keep himself steady. Only now does he see the deep rings of purple under the kid’s eyes.

The nagging in the back of his mind pulls harder but he lets it go. Peter is running Bruce through a genius theory on how to approach increased somatic cell growth that he would be an idiot to interrupt. Not for the first time, watching Peter work is like looking at a mirror image of his younger self, fresh-faced and enthusiastic at MIT. It’s enough to distract him, a small smile morphing his exhaustion into something softer.

Piggybacking off Peter’s ideas, Bruce proposes his own theory concerning the role of red blood cells and Tony loses track of time in his own contributions. The next time he comes back to himself it’s nearly two in the morning.

And Peter looks dead on his feet.

Bruce must notice when Tony does because he closes the laptop, though with some reluctance. “Well then. There’s history. Or, the start of it at least.”

Laughing softly, Peter rubs at his eyes. He sways and Tony resists the urge to grab him. Bruce stands and squeezes Tony’s shoulder. “He’s a good kid,” he says quietly, privately. Then, louder, “see you both tomorrow.”

And he leaves.

For a moment him and Peter simply stand in silence, relishing in the exhausted high of their scientific breakthrough. Then Peter yawns and it snaps Tony into action. He uses one hand to grab Peter’s elbow and the other to collect his backpack from the floor. They walk in silence from the lab to the elevator and miraculously make it to the outside of Peter’s door.

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter says softly, his words slurred on their edges. He takes his backpack and sinks a few inches into the ground at the weight of it.

“Straight to bed, capiche?”

“Mm. Yep.”

“Goodnight, kid.”

“G’night.”

Tony should’ve known it was too good to be true.

-----

Pepper’s out of town. His bed is big and empty and cold.

He can’t sleep.

He thinks of Peter.

“Hey FRI? Is the kid asleep yet?”

“It appears Mr. Parker is doing calculus homework.”

“Of course he is.”

Tony sighs long and deep. It carries out into the empty room and dies. It’s nearly three in the morning now. He debates getting up and telling Peter off for his wakefulness, but deep down he understands it’s not really his place.

“FRI, let me know when he falls asleep.”

“Of course.”

Tony waits and waits. The alert never comes.

Finally, his eyes droop.

It doesn’t last long.

FRIDAY’s voice jars him back into wakefulness. “Boss, it appears Mr. Parker has fallen asleep.”

“Mm. Good.”

“It also appears that Mr. Parker’s heart rate has risen significantly along with his breathing. He seems to be in distress.”

Damn it.

“Boss-”

“On it, FRI.”

Head rushing from standing too fast, Tony just barely manages to catch himself against the wall as he stumbles out into the hall. Even in the dark he knows the route by heart. One door, two doors, three doors-

“Pete?” Tony stops and hits his palm against the entrance. He’s reminded of Peter knocking on the window after decathlon and his heart seems to twist. When there’s no response, he cracks open the door.

“Peter?”

He expects to find the kid in bed. Instead, Peter is slouched over his desk, his tense face pressed into the pages of a heavy textbook. He’s whining and twitching in his sleep, a look too similar to physical pain for Tony to be comfortable stealing his expression.

He’s at Peter’s side in seconds. However, once there, his own heart rate seems to accelerate. “Uh FRI?” he whispers. “Any tips?”

“Start by waking Mr. Parker up.”

“Right, right. Good plan.” Hesitantly, Tony digs his fingers into Peter’s shoulder. When he doesn’t stir, he opts to shake it instead. “Pete? Hey. You with me buddy?”

“Please. St-stop-”

“Peter!”

“Stop. Stop-”

In a flash of worry, Tony shakes Peter harder. FRIDAY’s warning voice fills the room but it’s too late. Peter wakes up with an earth-shattering gasp, flying back in his chair. It would’ve been funny under different circumstances. But it’s not, because Peter is too pale and covered in a cold sweat. His young eyes are wide and terrified, a weak hand reaching up to wrap around his throat.

Then Tony understands.

“Breathe,” he instructs. “Peter, can you hear me? Look at me. Breathe.”

Peter makes a horrible strangled noise in the back of his throat, his eyes trying and failing to lock on Tony as his chest works overtime to pull in nothing. Tony grabs the boy’s hand away from his throat and places it over his own heart. He uses his other to direct Peter’s face more intently on his own. “You can do this Pete. You’re having a panic attack. I know it’s scary, but you have to focus on getting in some air, okay? I know you can do it.”

Peter tries.

“Listen to my breathing. Try and follow it.” He takes in an exaggerated breath and feels tears bite at his eyes when Peter manages to copy the behaviour. “Good. That’s really good Pete. Keep listening.”

“‘M-m-”

“Don’t try and talk. Focus on breathing. I’m right here.” I’m not going anywhere.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. It’s the longest ten minutes of Tony’s life, but eventually Peter’s breaths even out. Exhausted, he slumps forward into Tony’s shoulder, shaking horribly. “O’side.”

“What was that kiddo?”

“Out-outside.” Weakly, Peter tries to push himself up. His unfocused eyes land on Tony desperately as he continues his struggle. “Gotta- gotta go outside. P-please.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Tony nods. He helps Peter stand, grabs a blanket from off the kid’s bed, and with combined effort they make their way out into the hall. Tony keeps his hands planted firmly on Peter’s shoulders to keep him steady.

As soon as the fresh air hits Peter visibly relaxes. It must not do wonders for his balance because he lists heavily to the side and Tony is too caught off guard to fully catch him. They end up in a tangled heap on stairs. Peter inhales deeply through his nose and exhales out of his mouth, holding his breath in a careful pattern. “Thanks,” he murmurs eventually. “Better now.”

Feeling threateningly close to tears, Tony drapes the blanket he had grabbed carefully around Peter’s shoulder, fussing with it until it’s secure. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks softly.

Looking weighed down, Peter shrugs. He looks up at the night sky, at the stars, and turns up his lips in a sad smile. “I still dream about it sometimes.”

“About what?”

“Mm. The warehouse. Being stuck.”

Tony frowns, his insides turning to ice. Peter’s face is relaxed now, but in the dim light Tony can still make out the underlying exhaustion. The stress and the fear. God, he’s just a kid.

“Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?”

“I know it’s dumb. But I wake up and I can’t breathe and-” Peter frowns. “It’s just not worth it.”

“It isn’t dumb kiddo.”

“I’m just- I’m so tired, Mr. Stark. You know?”

Overcoming the paralysis in his limbs, Tony scoots closer to Peter and pulls him up against his chest. When Peter leans into the gesture he runs his hand through the kid’s hair. “I know Pete. I’m sorry. This never should’ve been you. I hate that it’s you.”

Peter sighs. The usual glint in his eyes is gone. “Occupational hazard, right?”

It isn’t fair, but it’s true. Tony wishes he could fix it. He’ll work his whole damn life trying. “Yeah kiddo. I guess it is.”

Tony shivers. Peter notices and shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. We can go back inside. I’m okay now. I promise.”

“Pete-”

“No really.”

When Peter stands without toppling over, Tony caves and stands too. For a moment they stand still. It’s safe, quiet. Crickets and frogs can be heard from across the dewy lawn. “Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah kid?”

“How- how do I make it stop? The nightmares, I mean.”

It feels like a sucker punch to the gut.

“You can’t stop fear,” Tony says, and it takes a lot of effort to keep his voice even. He thinks of Afghanistan and the Battle of New York, of finding Peter collapsed on the Cyclone after bringing his plane out of the sky. “Every single person on this damn earth is scared of something Pete. It’s part of being human.”

Peter nods, then smiles weakly. “Well technically Mr. Stark, I’m a superhuman.”

“True, but that still doesn’t make you exempt.”

“I know.”

Tony is quiet. The world is quiet. “Talking about it helps too,” Tony says finally. “There are lots of people who want to help Pete. You just- you just have to let them. You have to let us take some of the responsibility too.”

Peter looks at his feet. He rubs a tired hand over his eyes.

“Come on kiddo. You good to go inside now?”

After a slight nod, they walk back into the warmth of the compound. Peter lingers before closing the door and Tony stares at his small shadowed frame. He swallows down a rush of emotion and clears his throat. “How do you feel about a movie?”

Again, Peter seems to relax. Only then does he close the door. “Only if it’s Back to the Future.”

“I’d accept nothing else.”

Peter smiles. For the first time that night, it’s genuine. They sit side by side on the couch and even before the opening credits finish Peter is snoring softly into his ribs. Tony relaxes against the kid’s even breathing. He takes some of Peter’s burden and shoulders it gladly.

He’ll take as much as Peter will give him.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan 

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Or on FF

Tagging:   @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda

Chapter 3: Walk With Me

Emma woke late, feeling seasick as her feet hit the floor of her room. “Oh God.” She jumped up from the bed and ran to the bathroom, releasing the contents of what was in her stomach into the toilet.

“How much did you drink last night, Em?” Ruby staggered into the bathroom behind her.

“Seasick.” She mumbled, leaning against the sink, and splashing water on her face.

“Here, take your pills.” Emma swallowed what was offered to her, hoping they would work quickly, otherwise she was either going to have to spend the next two weeks in her bed or swim home.

“We’re going to take a dance class today.” Ruby announced suddenly.

“Not if I feel like this I’m not.” She looked at her reflection, dark circles under her eyes from her night of interrupted sleep.

“Oh, come on Em, it will make you feel better if you get out of the room.” Ruby pouted and pushed a pink sundress toward her.

Emma weighed her options, spend the day in her room, feeling like shit, or go outside with the sunshine and feel like shit. “Fine, I’ll go, better to go outside than sit in here all day.”

An hour later as she stood in the middle of a large room with Will and Ruby, sunlight dancing in through the floor length windows around her, the ocean just outside, she was starting to feel better, at least physically. The fact that she was now being asked to learn to dance a waltz was a completely different issue. Her stomach was knotted in a bundle of nerves and apprehension.

“Can I have two volunteers?”

Emma stepped backward, hoping to melt into the background and watched as the woman that her brother had been speaking to the night before stepped forward.

“Thank you, dear. Can I get a gentleman to join this brave woman?”

“I’ll do it.” A man shouted from the back of the other side of the room.

Emma watched in a shocked awe as David came out of the shadows to join the woman in the middle of the dance floor.

“Guess he was flirting with her.” Ruby whispered in her ear.

“I didn’t even know he could dance.” She said, amazed as he and the woman flitted around the room as if they had been doing this their whole life together. Her brother was admiring the short haired girl with a look she had never seen him direct toward another woman in his life.

“Wonderful, look how beautifully they glide across the floor.” The instructor complimented them and the girl’s cheeks turned a crimson red, her eyes never leaving David’s. “Now everyone else grab a partner and we will all practice together.”

Emma groaned trying to escape to the door when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “May I?” She looked up to see a handsome man standing beside her.

“Oh um…” Emma felt Ruby shove her forward into the man’s arms.

“Her name’s Emma.”

“Graham.” He said softly before leading her to the dance floor and taking her in his arms, ignoring the frustrated anger Will was directing at Ruby before she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him onto the dance floor.

~*~

Killian watched the scene in front of him with both a sense of awestruck horror and sheer joy. Robin was in the midst of his third try of the day to convince Regina Mills to join him for dinner.

“I will do no such thing.” She spat. “When are you going to stop asking me?”

“My lady, I do not plan to stop asking until you say yes.”

“You are infuriating, and you will die trying.” Killian chuckled and she turned toward him, “Do you find this funny, Captain?”

“Actually…”

“Never mind.” She growled, putting her hand in his face.

“Regina, my love, give me one dinner to prove it to you.”

She pushed away from the desk, “Prove what? That you are annoying, repulsive, and egotistical? Dream on, buddy, it’s not happening. Ever!” She turned on her heels and walked away.

“I shall but try again another day, love.” He shouted after her.

Killian’s smile grew on his face, “Well that was riveting.”

Robin’s love-struck expression was almost comical. “I’m growing on her.”

“How can you possibly believe that?” His look of shock apparent to the confident man standing in front of him.

“She didn’t tell me to go fuck myself this time.”

Killian laughed; his attention drawn to a small group passing them from the corner of his eye. He turned his head away from them as they flitted past the desk, not wanting to run into Emma while in his uniform. She was talking to a man on her right side while walking arm and arm with a tall brunette woman on her left. He wondered if these were the friends who had blackmailed her or if she had finally met someone on this ridiculous cruise.

He found it completely preposterous when he realized that he hoped it was the former rather than the latter.

~*~

“Emma, you look beautiful, and I get to be the lucky bloke that gets to ‘fake date’ you on this cruise.”

“I’m the lucky one, William.” She grinned and took his arm as they headed to dinner. As they got closer to the table, she felt Will stiffen beside her.

“Bloody hell, she’s following me.” Emma followed his gaze to their table, seeing the girl he had been avoiding sitting at the table with David, but she was even more surprised to see her brother sitting next to the woman he had danced with earlier.

“Maybe you should try talking to her. She seems too nice to be a stalker.”

“That’s what a stalker would do, pretend to be nice so they can get close to you.” He whispered.

“There you two are.” Her brother announced as they approached the table, standing up to pull out Emma’s chair for her. “This is my sister I was telling you about. Emma, this is Mary Margaret Blanchard and Belle French.”

Emma smiled politely at the two ladies. She had never seen her brother so enamored with a woman before. “Very nice to meet you,” She turned to her right and yanked Will toward the table, tugging him down into the seat beside her and on the other side next to Belle. “This is Will, you’ll have to excuse him, he’s shy.”

“Bugger.” He groaned as he put his elbows on the table, hanging his head on his fists. Emma reached over and shoved his elbows off the table, giving him a dirty look. He grumbled and hunched into his chair.

“Mary Margaret and Belle are from Maine.” David exclaimed with even more excitement.

“I teach kindergarten and Belle is our school librarian. I won this trip from one of those radio shows. I was caller number five and I got to bring a guest with me. It was so exciting for Belle and I to get away during the summer.”

“Isn’t that amazing?” David beamed and Emma snorted at his enthusiasm.

“Why’d she bring you?” Will said with an air of disgust toward Belle.

“One of us had to have the misfortune of being seated next to you.” The woman replied sarcastically.

“Oh, I like her.” Ruby said with a light clap of her hands.

“Who do we like?” August sounded out of breath as he approached the table.

“Did you run here?” Emma laughed.

“I got lost, again. I don’t think cruise ships are my friend.”

Everyone settled into their seats as the food arrived and introductions were made. Emma found herself enjoying the newcomer’s company. Her brother more than seemed to enjoy Mary Margaret’s attention, which was something no one else had accomplished in many years, the most she had seen him date was a few times with Kathyrn back home. David would return home complaining that her incessant talking the entire evening had put him in a coma.

“So, Emma, what do you do for a living?” Mary Margaret asked her when the dinner arrived.

“I work for August.” She said with a smile in his direction. “I kick the drunks out of the bar when Will gives them too much whiskey.”

“These three are like my kids I suppose.” August looked at Ruby, Will, and herself. “I don’t know what I would do without any of them.”

“Aww, boss, you’re the best.” Ruby cooed.

The longer the conversation went on, the more Emma found herself looking around the room for an exit. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the company, however, her stomach was still turning from earlier and she was tired of making polite conversation.

“If you don’t mind, I need to visit the ladies room.” Emma stood from the table, excusing herself.

Heading out of the dining room, she started to walk back through the ship, however the bright bar at the corner caught her attention and she stepped up to the stool and took a seat. “Can I get something that isn’t served in a fruit.”

The bartender laughed, and set about making her a Cosmo, pushing it toward her.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting alone in the bar?”

“Enjoying my own company.” She growled, looking up to see a dark-haired man in a suit sitting beside her. He was nice looking, but she wasn’t exactly sitting at the bar because she wanted company.

“Walsh.” He extended his hand in her direction and she shook it and turned back to her drink.

“Emma.”

“Are you enjoying the cruise so far?” God was he still talking to her? “This is my third singles cruise.” He said without waiting for her response.

“Three times and yet you’re still single.” She said with a slight mock to her tone.

He leaned in toward her, his breath hot and unwelcome against her neck. “Being single doesn’t mean I’m looking for a relationship.”

Was this guy serious?

“I’m not looking at all.” She said dryly, turning her body away from him. Suddenly she felt his hand on her knee.

“There has to be a reason you’re on this cruise, beautiful.”

She smiled uncomfortably before she felt an arm slip around her waist and soft lips slide against her neck. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you, love.” The familiar voice ignited her entire body, sending shivers down her back. She melted into him, reaching up to slide her palm against his cheek, staring up into sea blue eyes.

“Darling, there you are.” She flashed him her smile before turning back to the man seated at the bar. “Sweetie this is, I’m sorry what was your name again?”

“Walsh, and I was just leaving.” The man scowled as he took his drink and left the bar.

He removed his hand from her waist and she immediately missed the warmth of his body as he sat down in the now vacated stool beside her. “Hope you don’t mind the save, Swan. You looked like you were disinterested in the gentleman’s affection.”

“Thank you.” She said sincerely. “I was about ten seconds away from wasting good alcohol on his fancy jacket.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps I should have waited ten more seconds then.”

The bartender returned to refill her drink and then turned to the man beside her, a nervous jitter suddenly overtaking the woman as she looked at the man. “Oh, sir, I didn’t see it was you, I’m so sorry, can I…”

Killian held up his hand, “just a glass of rum, please.”

“Straight liquor.” She grinned, wondering if perhaps he drank here often. “You’re the type of man I usually end up throwing out of the bar back home.”

“That seems harsh, where is back home, Swan?”

“Boston. I’m a bouncer at a bar. I know, very exciting work.” She laughed. “My boss is the one who actually took us all on this trip.”

“That’s a very nice boss, doesn’t sound like someone who would blackmail an innocent woman.”

“He’s the best boss honestly, just lonely I think.” She said with a laugh, their eyes meeting for a few frozen moments before she shook her head, erasing the hold he seemed to have on her. “Hey, I never got your name.”

“Killian.”

“Nice to meet you Killian, where’s home for you?”

“Most recently, New York.”

“Hmm, so you travel a lot. Let’s see, flight attendant, no, that’s not right.” She looked him up and down. “Construction worker?”

“You’re very bad at this game, Swan.” He held up his hand, and she realized she hadn’t noticed the way he held it closer to his body. “Limited use of my hand, I would be a very dangerous construction worker.” She must have paled because he laughed. “No need to be concerned, I still have proper use of all my other appendages.” She choked on her drink and he reached up to nervously touch his ear with his other hand. “Well, that came out completely inappropriate.”

“You mean you didn’t rehearse that.”

“If I did it wouldn’t have come out like that.” He said with a blush to his cheeks. He picked up his glass and downed the alcohol in the glass and then stood from the bar. “Walk with me?”

“Why not, I’m very curious as to what you’ll say next.” She giggled, immediately cursing herself for acting like a giddy teenager.

Killian led them through the doors to the exit onto the deck. They walked in silence through the moonlit walkways on the outside of the ship, the sound of the water crashing against the hull below them.

“Do you really think if something happened to this ship that we would all fit on these little boats.” She pointed to the life rafts suspended above them.

“Absolutely, did you not listen during muster?”

“I was too busy feeling like I was going to vomit honestly.”

“Ah, I hope you have found your sea legs by now. Sea sickness is nothing to take lightly. I’ve seen it take many a man down.” He paused, concern on his face before he retreated into a lighthearted smile. “However, if you had listened during muster, they would have told you that there are 32 mega life rafts attached to the ship, each fitted to take on 150 passengers. Which is more than enough to handle all the passengers and crew of this ship.”

“You sure do know a lot about this ship.”

He swallowed, “I’m a skipper back home. Of a fishing boat. I know my way around a ship, but I like to know as much as I can about any ship I step foot on.”

“Well, I guess I know who I’ll come find if we start to sink.”

“I assure you, she’s a sound and safe ship. You will have no need to concern yourself with sinking onboard this vessel.”

“Well hopefully we have a skilled Captain to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

He smiled to himself, “I imagine they would not hire an amateur.”

“I wonder which of these boats they put such an important person on if this ship starts to sink.”

“That depends on whether they get everyone else off first. Otherwise, the Captain always goes down with the ship.”

Emma stares at him wide eyed. “That’s just a saying. They wouldn’t honestly expect that of someone.”

“Aye, it is protocol. However, any Captain worthy of his stripes would never leave a man behind.” He said sadly, the face of his brother burning into his memory as he stared out at the ocean before him. “You shouldn’t worry your head about that though, ships of this size are very safe.”

“Ever heard of the Titanic?” She laughed lightly, her bright green eyes glowing in the pale light.

“Much was learned from the sinking of that beast, technology was improved, however, I do not think you are in danger of finding an iceberg on this voyage.”

“Who knew I had such an informed guide. You should do tours while you are on board.” He chuckled, knowing he should tell her that if she signed up for the 10am tour she would find that he joins many of the tours to answer passenger questions.

“Jones, there you are.” Killian and Emma both jumped as Robin approached them. Killian’s eyes went wide, and the man stared at him with confusion. Emma looked between the two of them.

“Do you have the information I requested earlier?” Killian asked and Robin’s nose scrunched and then his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, absolutely, I have that…”

“Billing receipt?”

“Billing receipt, yes because I’m the ship’s purser.” He nodded a bit aggressively with his head and Emma watched them both closely.

“Thank you, I’ll come to your desk to get it shortly.” Robin backed away, staring at Emma with a new curiosity before turning and entering the ship.

“Wow, you must be a big spender if they actually come looking for you to deliver your receipts.”

Killian laughed nervously. “You caught me, VIP right here. I should probably go take care of that.”

He caught the subtle frown on her face before she thanked him for their tour. It excited him that she seemed to be enjoying their short time talking as much as he did. However, he felt guilty not being honest with Ms. Swan about who he was. He knew he was being selfish, but if he was going to have to spend his time onboard watching desperate and hopeful couples hook up, he felt it only fair to get to enjoy the company of the only person who intrigued him here.

Walking her back inside, they parted ways as she returned to the dining room and he headed to the atrium to find Robin.

“What was that?” Robin interrogated him when he approached the desk. “Are you hooking up with that woman?”

“That’s ridiculous, of course not. I was giving her a tour.”

“So, you’re giving personal tours in civvies now?”

“Of course not, but she was getting hit on by some jerk at the bar, I simply rescued her from an embarrassing experience.”

“Uh huh. And then you took her on a tour of your ship.”

“Well, I didn’t tell her it was my ship.”

“She doesn’t know you’re the Captain?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“It didn’t come up?” He repeated incredulously.

“She’s just a passenger I’ve talked to a couple of times.”

“Wait a minute, so she’s just a passenger, who you’ve met a couple of times, while not being the Captain of the ship she’s currently vacationing on.”

“Exactly.” He smirked.

“You like her.” He said with astonishment.

“I do not.” He sang as he turned and walked away from the desk hiding the ridiculous smile growing on his face.

~*~

“My God woman, what did you eat?” Emma stared quizzically at Will as she sat down at the table. “No one takes a piss for that long.”

“Fuck!” She said under her breath, staring egregiously at Will. “I stopped for a drink at the bar.” Emma swore as she grabbed her napkin and put it back in her lap, tapping at her dessert with her fork.

“How long have you two been together?” Belle asked curiously.

“Oh, we aren’t actually dating.” She blurted out and Will stomped on her foot under the table. “Ow.”

“Bugger, woman.”

“I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood, I thought he said you were his girlfriend earlier.” The corner of her lips turned upwards.

Emma stood from the table, looking over at Belle’s drink on the table. “You should ask him to tell you about rum based drinks.” She pointed at Belle’s generic rum cocktail. “He’s brilliant when it comes to picking out cocktails based on your personality.” The woman’s face brightened, and Will groaned.

“Traitor.”

“Live a little, ya bitch.” She kissed him on the cheek and wandered out of the dining hall to retreat to her room.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

“YES, I CAN HEAR YOU”

Johnny “Coco” Cruz x Reader

Anon asked: could you write something angsty with angel or coco?

Warning: a little angst.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes with grammar. Gif isn't mine. Also, I didn't study anything about Medicine, but I like drama.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You didn't see the car, but you felt how you flew off the motorbike, falling into the wet ground. Last thing you saw were two girls screaming and running to you, covered by pain. The agonic kind you feel before die.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

“What happened?!” Coco shouts crying when he finds the doctor. He's being followed by the crew, and Letti being supported by Chucky. She can't even walk without falling down.

“Johnny Cruz?”

“Yes, what happened?!”

“A car crashed her motorbike. She has several bruses, three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and... we had to induce her into comma. The helmet saved her life”.

The world falls down to his feet. His legs trembled. Tranq forces him to have a seat, while the crying of Letti floods thr hallway. The faces of the guys talk for them. Coco is sobbing with his head between his arms, shaking it. No air in his lungs for a few seconds.

“Is gonna get better...?” Creeper asks with trembling voice, something they want and they don't want to know.

“We don't know”.

“What do ya' mean, uh?!” Coco jumps off his sit about to take him by the coat. Taza and Riz hold him apart, trying to calm the youngest.

“Next... hours... are crucial”. The doctor replies scared, walking back two steps.

“Can we... see her?” Letti talks, leaving away Chucky, with her eyes and cheeks covered in tears. The man nods pointing the room. She runs, her father too.

Their lives fall apart when they find you. You're laying in the bed with a tube in your mouth and a lot of cables around your body: connected to some fingers, another in your wrist, two in your nose. The girl has to cover her mouth before start crying loudly. Coco wrapped in his arms tightly, giving her a kiss on top of his head. Angel can't go to the room, he's not ready to see you and it hurts his chest too much.

You've been there for them the last five years, always helping the MC with whatever they asked you for. And Coco's daughter is your bestfriend since you met each other. It's painful can't do anything to help you when you most need them.

“Sometimes, they can listen”. The doctor says, holding your medical record between both hands. “I recommend you talk to her as normal as possible. I mean, talk about how were your day, what movie you saw on tv...”

“Stay with her, brother. I'm gonna do all the paperwork”. Bishop puts a hand on his shoulder, stretching it for a second. “The club will pay everything”.

“You don't ha...”

“She's one of us, Coco. Club decision”.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Yes, you could hear them.

Members of Stockton, Yuma and Samcro went to visit you. They talked you about how was going everything and telling you that, when you came home, a big party would be waiting you. The longest one with the four charters together. And you would like to smile, to say that will be amazing, but you can't.

Bishop, Tranq and Taza visited you every night. They laugh about something funny happened that day. Maybe Chucky left the crane on and destroyed a car. Maybe Angel got slapped by one of Vicky's girl. Or the recurrent story in wich they tell you that a cat went inside the clubhouse and broke a whole box full of beers, before lick it from the floor.

Riz, Creeper and Gilly went often. Every three or four hour you heard them saying “hi, pequeña, we're here again to bother you”. Sometimes they argued about what tv show is better, or talk about they wanted a new tattoo and you should choose it when you're awake.

The Reyes family always went together. Felipe was the optimist one. He used to tell you about his childhood and adolescence. Funny stories of an old man. EZ and Angel are like your brothers, so seeing you in that kind of conditions was painful. But they were there too, telling you everything was gonna be ok and how much they were missing you.

Letti and Coco made the hospital their home. Bishop ‘gave a present’ to have a bigger room with comfy sofas where they could sleep better. The younger was forced to continue with the high-school, being picked up by Chuky to go back to the hospital. Coco never left you, holding your hand, kissing you all the time. He also cleaned your face every morning and every night. Brushed your hair and put some of his cologne in your pillow to make you felt like you were at home. When he wasn't reading you ‘Hamlet’, 'cause EZ told him was your favourite book, making a lot of additionals comments like ‘shit, baby, everybody dies here’ or ‘what the hell is happening’; he mostly was in silence, blaming himself for what happened that night.

It was raining. A rare storm installed on Santo Padre and the surroundings. You were mad because you came home and he wasn't there, even when he promised you to make dinner and have some free time of the chaos. You had the accident on your way to the clubhouse. Two young girls were driving a car without license. They skipped a red light, tripling the allowed speed. You were there. And, like the doctor said, the helmet Coco gave you for your last birthday saved your life. One of those with full structure wich covered your head, face and neck. But your cross motorbike broke into pieces. But this was the less important.

Because of the shock and the pain, you had a kind of respiratory failure. Your lungs couldn't work. You also broke the left wrist and dislocated the right shoulder. Three splintered ribs, bruises around your body and a lash on the neck. The good news were that you only would need three months of rehabilitation and one for rest, after it. The comma was something preventive.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

“Dammit, mami! You look good in this white pajama!” Coco gives you a kiss on the forehead, laying on the hospital bed, when the nurses have showered you. He puts an arm under your neck, carefully, holding you next to his body.

As the days goes by, you have less cables connected. You also don't need a mask to breathe better anymore and the analyzes show positive results. The crew, your family, are happy and feels better.

“You know, we talked about marriage and this... bullshit, and no following traditions, but white is definitely your color, baby”. He has a smile on his tired face, stroking your hair. “We've to marry, you hear me?”.

Tears running again down by his cheeks, pressing his lips against your temple with all the love he feels for you.

“You...” Your throat is dry and it hurts a little, but you're feeling like life is giving you a second chance. So you take it.

“(Y/N)?” Letti jumps off of the couch, Creeper and Gilly walks to the bed. Coco is looking at you with his eyes opened like never before. Everyone is having a heartattack.

“Fuc... Fucking crybaby”. With a lot of effort you smile being sleepy yet.

“Baby! Mami! Can 'hear me?”

You nod one time, drawing a painful gesture on your face. Everyone goes crazy. Creeper shouts calling the doctor, Letti hugs you and Gilly starts to call the crew by phone. You can feel Coco's hand narrowing yours, kissing your lips once and again desperately.

“Shit, mami, you scared me”. He laughs in tears, while you try to put an arm on Letti's back. “How 'feel? Need something?”

“Wa-Water, please...” You mutter clicking the tongue.

Letti, literally, runs to the table three meters away to take a small bottle. Carefully she offers you directly to your lips with soft sips. Oh, god, it feels like heaven when the liquid falls down by your throat till your stomach. The headache is gone, as the pain that involved your body the last two weeks. The plaster in your wrist is a little uncomfortable, taking a look of it raising the heavy hand in air. You look around confused and kinda anxious. It wasn't a dream. You're really there.

“What happened? Where's my bike?” You inquire, turning your face to Coco with your mouth almost open. By his gesture you know he hasn't any good to say. Licking your inner lip, you nod.

“Two crazy chicks ran you ove’, (Y/N)” He stucks both ankles on the mattress, taking your hand between his to gives you some kisses. He closes his eyes stroking one of his cheek with it. You can see the black shadows under his eyelids and the beard in the jaw.

Moving yourself all you can, you take his other cheek with the tiny fingers, inside the cast around your arm, and a wince, bowing to him. You press your lips against his, softly, in a warm way. You need to say ‘thank you for being my anchor’ without words, and Coco can feel it. You love him. You love him the most and nothing else matters. Hugging him, you start to cry. He couldn't felt the pain in every inch of your body, but you felt every day his. And it was horrible couldn't say you were ok, and you were hearing everything he said to you, hold his hand or move your head.

“This wasn't your fault”. You say, brushing his lips with yours. “Don't say that again. It was those girls, not you Coco. Even the storm has more fault on it”.

“Must have been home, baby... Making dinner, waitin' you”. He shakes his chin, closed eyes, noses lifting perfectly as a puzzle.

“Coco, stop”. You demand kissing him again, before be interrupted by the doctor.

“(Y/N), is good to see you awake. How you feel?”

“Like I learned to fly in the worst way”. Trying to laugh, coughs some times. Letti smiles laying next to you. She missed you too a lot and, by difference, she was who talked you the most. Even Gaby went to see you.

“Sense of humor is a good omen. Do you wan...”

“Oh, god, please don't. I heard it a thousand times”. You beg for a moment. “Wrist, ribs, shoulder, neck, blablabla... How many time do I have to stay here?”

“If everything goes as good as now, maybe in one or two weeks you'll be at home”.

“You hear' that, mami? You should have your meds and do whatever doc' says, to come home next week”. Coco sounds excited, smiling for the first time since one month ago. He kisses you again all over your face, holding you in his arms.

“Enjoying your holidays?” Angel's voice sounds agitated, stopping at the door till your eyes meet.

In two big steps he reaches the bed, while Coco gives you some space to be hugged for the man with a biggest smile in his face. The crew start to arrive too. Jokes, laughs and kisses flood the room. You can see some colorful flowers around, even two huge balloons are floating in a corner. That probably was Riz's idea. You're pretty sure.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

“You good, mami?”

Lights off and one of your legs on his waist. Coco has you between his arms, tightly and warmly. You're finally home, in your bed, smelling again like your favourite human being. Happiness isn't enough to explain how you feel, hidding your face under his chin.

“I always am when I'm with you, papi”. You say in a whisper, tangling your fingers in his shirt to put him closer. “Will you read me tomorrow a little more of ‘Hamlet’? It was my favourite part of the day”.

“'Course I'll do, baby. I'll do anythin' ya' ask me for”.

[woogyu]

Funny Drabble Game

Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny (when requesting PLEASE add which prompt list it is from)

Can have up to 3 prompts per request + can send multiple requests.

They will all be written for fem reader. I’m very sorry about this, it is just because of what I know/have experience in writing.

Please format requests as follows; funny member prompt # or #s.

ex. funny member #12 + #15

ex. funny florist!member x student!reader #14

Send your requests/asks: here

~ prompts under the cut ~

crossed out = don’t request, usually for when I’ve gotten tired of a specific prompt coming up too often or I don’t like it

Drabble Prompts [credit; https://justforshitsandcackles.tumblr.com ]

“You’re such a fun drunk.”

“Since my dog likes you then i guess i like you.”

“Tell them to fuck off.”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“I want to strangle you 99% of the time.”

“Could you not suck for five minutes?”

“The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed/bedroom too!”

“You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“Well thats tragic.”

“I’m too sober for this.”

“You are actually insane!”

“I think you’re actually satan.”

“It’s like -50 degrees in here.”

“Laugh at my jokes! They’re funny and you know it!”

“Sorry isn’t going to help when i kick your ass!”

“Don’t let one of them electrocute themselves or something.”

“Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

“Do you find this amusing, fuck face?”

“Holy shit! That thing is huge!”

“Don’t kink shame me.”

“I hope i’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.”

“I just cleaned that!”

“Don’t get sassy with me!”

“What do you have behind your back?”

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but the dog loves me more.”

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.”

“Bite me.” “If you insist.”

“Im not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“I need you to be my fake girlfriend/boyfriend.”

“Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?”

“You snuck into my room, at 4am..to cuddle?”

“If we get caught i’m blaming you.”

“What? No! I wasn’t staring..i-i was looking at something behind you!”

“I locked the keys in the car.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Define normal.”

“Do i get bonus points if i act like i care?”

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and i don’t speak english.”

“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”

“And you wonder why you’re single.”

“Remind me to kill you. Please.”

“I’m listening to you. I’m just not paying attention.”

“She’s crazy. and just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, theres a crazy underground garage.”

“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”

“My middle finger salutes you.”

“I don’t think i could ever stab someone. I mean, lets be honest, i can barely get the straw in the capri sun.”

“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how i feel.”

“Somebodys cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

“All due respect but thats a bunch of crap.”

“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

“What did i tell you about calling him/her the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”

“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

“I’m not weird. I’m limited edition.”

“If history repeats itself, i am so getting a dinosaur.”

“You seem somewhat familiar. have i threatened you before?”

“Even when we were kids, i always kicked your ass!”

“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”

“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”

“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”

“Do i regret it? Yes. Would i do it again? Probably.”

“You’re going to burn in a very special level in hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers, and people who talk at the theater.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress. i’m a damsel doing damage.”

“Sometimes i question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

“Why should we date?” “Because we’re attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but i do not feel the need to date pie.”

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me.” “It saves time.”

“You’ve successfully cured him/her of anything interesting about his/her personality.”

“Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Wow somebody needs a happy meal.”

“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”

“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“You couldn’t handle me even if i came with instructions.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

“I’m so glad you could come.” “Cut the crap. give me a drink.”

“Where have you been all my life?” “Hiding from you.”

“I can tell that you think what you’re saying is funny, but…no.”

“If you pull out my earphones, i will pull out your lungs.”

“Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. thats cute.”

“I feel like a freakin’ soccer mom.”

“My ex? Yeah id still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.”

“Such big evil in such a little thing.”

“For the love of fuck.” “Yep, thats me. i love to fuck.”

“Are you ready to go?” “Yeah. let me grab my machete.” “We’re going to sephora. no machetes needed.”

Clears throat seriously, “Yas bitch.”

“No road trip is complete without the snacks. So go in there and buy everything you can fit in a tiny cart.”

“I’m all for making you miserable by being insufferable, but unfortunately i have things to do today.”

“Come on, you can help me make conspiracy theories. If you make an especially good one, ill pay for dinner.”

“You know what? Why not? I haven’t ruined my life yet this week. Lets go.”

“Do these dark circles under my eyes say nothing to you about how i am doing?”

“If i didn’t know you better, id say you were trying to flirt by giving me books.”

“What are you talking about? Im hilarious!”

“Duct tape? Duct tape is not going to fix this!”

“What did you think? That you were going to fight him?”

“You’re blocking the view.” “I am the view.”

“Why are you on the floor?” “Tying my shoe.” “You’re wearing rain-boots.”

“Cant stop me from slaying!”

“Close your eyes and imagine it, all the dogs in the world.”

“Be careful, he’s so sweet you might get diabetes.”

“Would you reconsider if i was sober?”

“Stop running i’m wearing flip flops!”

“Why are you holding your boobs?”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking, more like far distance admiring.”

“You need to stop making her laugh! you’re ruining her makeup!”

“I’m sure i can get some kind of sexual gratification from just staring at him if i try hard enough.”

“I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not.”

“I’m either in the mood for french fries or to rip someone’s head off. Hmmm. decisions, decisions.”

“If you’re not out of the shower in the next five minutes, i’m going to cut your fucking hair off to make your life quicker.”

“No, i will not dress up as a chicken.”

“I never told my extended family that we broke up, and now they want to know when you’re coming over for dinner again.”

“I need a date to my relatives wedding, and i’ve already asked literally everyone else i know, so i know you probably hate me, but please say yes. Otherwise they’ll try to set me up with someone, and they have awful taste.”

“One more sound and i swear to-”

“Sometimes when (name) texts me, i just pretend they didn’t so i don’t have to respond.”

“You gave our pigeon boyfriend the wrong beans!”

“If i’m like 50 and still single, ill marry you because tax benefits.”

“Please, never have children.”

“I know its like 11pm, but i’m on my way to your house with nacho fries.”

“Sometimes i wish i was gay so i wouldn’t have to deal with all these dumbass boys.

“You know, would’ve been nice if you told me your whole ass family was coming to this dinner! I look like a troll.”

“Im going to the party to pet the dog, no thanks drugs.”

“I hope in college i get some excuse to deck him. Maybe with a bottle or something, ill wing it and be like “oops, sorry shithead, my hand slipped.”

“What is this shit…i’m just trying to graduate.”

“Ooo, i sense attitude in your tone.”

“Guess who only got two hours of sleep? Me, lol, i’m gonna die.“

“I’m gonna strangle you.” “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Superheroes aren’t allowed in my house, especially after they’ve destroyed my living room. go away.”

“oh you’re coming. even if i have to drag you through the snow in your pajamas.”

“i swear you’re gonna end up getting like botox in your tits or something.” “well i mean-” “whAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

[i-know-you-can]

The Story of Us - It takes a village

Time flies and it’s been a little while since I added anything new to my collection of short one shots/drabbles but a few days ago a wonderful idea by @tikigoddess caught my attention and wouldn’t let me go. You can find the original post here or if you don’t want to be spoiled

Read below or on Ao3

“Are you sure you guys are gonna be fine on your own? I can just tell Veronica to reschedule. Or maybe we can stay in. I’m sure she could bring the whole spa over here if she wanted.”

“Betts,” Jughead says, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her nervous rambling, the other hand cradling their baby daughter against his chest. “We’ll be just fine. Mia will probably sleep most of the time you’re away anyway while I’ll try to get some writing done. No need to worry about us.”

It’s been only six weeks since Mia Isabella Jones has entered their lives, causing everything they do to stop and focus on her. And while Jughead is more than willing to do that, assuming the role of a full time dad with pride, he’s also still a husband, one of his duties being that he needs to force his wife to take time for herself and relax.

“But what if...” Betty tries to protest but Jughead stops her.

“No what ifs. You’re only going to Greendale. If something were to happen, which it won’t, Veronica’s driver will have you back in no time.”

With a resigned sigh Betty nods and Jughead knows just how she feels. Every moment spent away from their daughter feels like forever. And for someone as young as her, it probably is. Even though she spends most of her day sleeping, completely unaware of her parents’ presence.

“I’ll miss this sweet face,” Betty says, her lips down-turned as she strokes Mia’s cheek, the little girl rewarding her with a toothless smile.

“I’ll miss yours too.” Jughead grins, making her chuckle. “But it’s only a few hours and you deserve time for yourself.”

Just then a car honks outside of their house, signaling Veronica’s arrival.

With dozen kisses to Mia’s face and a few spare for him, Betty is out of the door, finally leaving the father-daughter duo alone.

“It’s just you and me kiddo,” Jughead whispers and for a moment he worries Mia will feel the lack of her mother’s presence and break into tears. He sure would in her place. But instead she just lets out a quiet gurgle and snuggles into his chest.

“I know, I’ll miss mommy too,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Not sure if more for her comfort or his. “But I promise we’ll have fun.”

Jughead may have exaggerated the term fun when twenty minutes later Mia is sleeping soundly in her crib while he stares at the blank screen of his computer, willing the words to come to him. It’s difficult to get into the zone though, as a thought in the back of his mind keeps nagging him, telling him he’s forgetting something important. He’s ran through the mental checklist of baby care twice already, making sure his daughter was safe and satisfied but the feeling doesn’t go away.

It’s only when his phone rings and a frustrated “Jones, where are you? We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.” comes from the other end that he realizes what he’s been forgetting this whole time. The monthly Serpents’ meeting.

While the previous month, due to Mia being barely two weeks old, Toni, as his second in command, lead the meeting, this month Jughead promised to check back in himself. A thought that quickly slipped his mind in the hustle and bustle of his everyday life.

What was once a five minute bike drive now turned into half an hour as Jughead triple checked the contents of the diaper bag before loading Mia into the car seat and setting off towards the White Wyrm. By the time he arrives, the Serpents are already waiting, faces predictably twisted with annoyance that quickly dissipates and turns into smiles once they notice the sleeping baby strapped to his chest. His daughter does tend to have that sort of effect on people.

“Sorry for the delay, guys,” Jughead says as they all settle into their chairs, “but as you can see, I have a very cute excuse.”

It’s barely ten minutes later when he’s running his hand through his hair in frustration. He’s forgotten how these meetings can sometimes go, especially with new members of the gang and without Betty by his side to shut them up with a single look before they have a chance to say something stupid.

“It’s just weed. What’s the big deal?” the newest member of the gang, a self-nicknamed guy called Sniper, asks, crossing his arms. He looks like a toddler about to throw a tantrum and Jughead hoped he was at least two years away from having to deal with that.

“The Serpents don’t deal drugs. It’s one of the main rules and you know that,” Jughead says, trying to keep his tone firm and serious. He knows that the adorable baby strapped to his chest may be making it a bit more difficult to take him seriously but he tries anyway.

Sniper rolls his eyes with an exaggerated huff, muttering something about the gang being boring. Then he pulls out a pack of cigarettes but Toni slaps the lighter out of his hand before he can light one.

“Are you crazy? There is a baby here,” she says, her eyes flaming with anger.

“Yeah, and Fangs has asthma. The Wyrm is a strict no smoking zone,” Sweet Pea growls, standing up to tower over the new guy for emphasis.

Sniper takes a quick look around him, as if wondering whether anyone will back him up, but the other Serpents just shake their heads and send him disapproving looks. “What kind of stupid gang is this?” he grumbles, kicking a chair angrily.

The sudden noise startles Mia from her slumber, a loud wail piercing through the air in an instant.

“See? Now you made the baby cry. Get out of here!” Sweet Pea snarls, pushing him towards the exit.

Jughead’s hand immediately comes up to Mia’s back, trying to soothe her with gentle strokes. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he talks to her in the softest voice possible, “sorry that poopy head woke you up.” He hears a couple of people snicker at his choice of words but ignores them, bouncing lightly on his feet, hoping to quickly put her back to sleep. The first three weeks of her life, bouncing on a fitness ball was the only sure-fire way to get her to sleep but Betty and Jughead have since moved on from bringing the ball with them everywhere so this is the most he can do now.

The little girl isn’t having it though, her tiny face scrunching up and her cries growing louder. Some of the Serpents, mostly the ones who don’t have kids on their own, start looking uncomfortable, clearly not sure how to deal with the situation. A crying baby is not a common problem during gang meetings.

“Let me hold her. Maybe she’s just sick of all the testosterone in the air,” Toni says and after a moment of hesitation Jughead carefully extracts Mia from the baby carrier.

“Be careful,” he tells her and she shoots him a look that says: “ I know what I’m doing better than you do.” . He supposes she’s right. After all, she has her own tiny person at home and therefore a lot more experience than he does. Still, it doesn’t stop him from worrying whenever he hands his daughter to someone else.

Toni’s presence doesn’t seem to help though, as Mia continues to prove to everyone how strong her lungs are.

“Let me try,” an older Serpent comes up to Toni, reaching his hands out for the baby. “My girls always liked to be rocked in a specific way.”

Jughead runs his hand through his hair, wondering how the direction of the meeting changed so quickly. Ah, right, Sniper was being an idiot.

Betty often teases him about how the Serpents have hardly resembled a gang in the past half a decade. He usually tries to oppose her, saying that a gang isn’t defined by doing criminal activities or riding motorcycles (many of the Serpents have exchanged theirs for family cars). But looking at them now, all he sees is a group of dorks in leather jackets, passing along a crying baby in a poor attempt to get her to stop crying.

“Your ugly face is only making her cry more.” He hears Sweet Pea say to a Serpent called Hisser who is trying to pull funny faces at Mia, before taking the baby from him. “Babies like being sung to,” he says, taking a deep breath before a slightly husky rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star reverberates through the bar.

“You’re singing it wrong,” Fangs interrupts him, starting the song again and several other Serpents start humming alongside him.

To everyone’s surprise, by the time they finish the song for the second time, the crying stops, Mia’s bright green eyes half closed and heavy with sleep.

“We did it, boss!” Fangs whisper yells in excitement as Sweet Pea continues to rock the baby in his arms until her eyes close completely.

As Jughead watches them, he realizes he could hardly ask for a better family for his daughter. Raising a child really takes a village. And sometimes that village is a group of gang member singing lullabies in a bar.

_______________

“Oh my god!” Betty exclaims with a giggle as a video of the Serpents singing to her daughter plays on her phone. Underneath a message from Toni says: "The Serpent Princess already has them wrapped around her tiny finger.”

[oscars-wifeyyy]

Chapter 5 (The Innocent)

I’m lowkey getting a block for Mother Hen. If y’all got ideas then send them my wayyyy. I also finished On My Block so y’know send in them requests!

Jamal and Elizabeth were in school together and saw Cesar so they went to him. However, Elizabeth saw the thin layer of sweat and stress in his body language.

“Wassup,” Jamal said, “You look fried,”

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” Cesar grimaced.

“I’d seriously consider Tempur Pedic pillows. Changed my life,” Jamal tried to be helpful, but took a look at Cesar, “or are we talkin’ non-pillow issues?”

“Just some shit. It’s nothing,” Cesar shrugged.

“Is it drugs? You slinging? You stole a car?” Jamal kept guessing, “held up a store? Drug store? A corner store?”

“No store,” Cesar scrunched his eyebrows together.

“Home invasion? Assault? Assault with a deadly weapon? Oh my God, they made you kill someone, didn’t they?” Jamal said loudly, causing a guy to turn and stare at the three.

“Jamal!” Elizabeth yelled, “shut up,”

“I really hope it wasn’t a white person,”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Cesar took a pause, “I kissed Olivia,”

“What?” Jamal whisper-yelled, “you kissed Olivia?”

Cesar quickly shushed Jamal as Elizabeth facepalmed and thought about why Cesar would tell Jamal and risk his relationship with Monse. “Why tell Jamal that? He can’t keep secrets,”

“I call bullshit. You kept the football secret for months now,” Cesar narrowed his eyes at Jamal, “unless you all of a sudden developed glaucoma or become a pirate,”

“That’s not funny. Piracy’s a problem,” Jamal pointed out.

“Salad, the only secrets he can keep is his own,” Elizabeth held onto her backpack straps, “he has nine hours tops until he tells Ruby and everybody.”

“With perfect conditions,” Jamal interrupted, “if there are any extenuating circumstances then all bets are off. I can’t be hungry or too full or too hot or too cold or feel physically cornered. What about Olivia? She lives with Ruby!”

“Olivia’s cool! She’s tight-lipped,” Cesar whispered.

“You boned?” Elizabeth glared.

“I’m talking about the lips on her face,” Cesar motioned to his own face.

“And we’re in the middle of a freaking heat wave,” Jamal freaked, “there’s no way I can keep this in,”

“Fine. I’ll handle it,” Cesar pulled his phone out.

Jamal snatched Cesar’s phone, “what are you doing? You don’t deliver heartbreak via text! You have to do it in person,” Jamal threw Cesar’s phone to the ground, “ooh, you’ll thank me later,”

Jamal ran, but Elizabeth stayed, “compa, why’d you do that?”

Cesar leaned down to pick his phone up only for Monse to appear, “hey, guys. Woah, you look not good,”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Elizabeth patted Cesar on his back before making her way to her locker. She put in her combination, letting the locker open and taking out her books.

The day dragged on until after school when Monse came up to her and pulled her to go to Ruby’s to hang out with Jasmine, Olivia, and herself.

“I got suckered in and so are you,” Monse said.

“What?” Elizabeth looked at her curly haired friend confused.

“Olivia got suckered into hangin’ with Jasmine then Olivia suckered me. Now I’m suckering you,” Monse glanced at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth shrugged, “alright. What’s up with you and Cesar?”

“I’m ready to take our relationship to the next stage,” Monse smiled.

“Did you tell Cesar?” Elizabeth wondered.

“Yup,” the two continued on until they saw Olivia and Jasmine in front of Ruby’s house.

The moment they walked into Olivia’s room, Jasmine started messing with things, but it went wrong when she started using Olivia’s deodorant. She was talking about something, but Elizabeth was stuck on the girl spreading someone else’s deodorant across her breasts.

“I didn’t say you could do that,” Olivia said, but was ignored when Jasmine continued going through her closet.

“Oh. Yas!” Jasmine turned and showed Olivia’s panties, “yo, what size are you?”

“Oh, honey, no,” Olivia shook her head.

Jasmine looked at her incredulously, “Excuse me for touching the cherished chonies,”

“It’s a pretty normal thing for people to not want you to touch their underwear,” Monse looked at Jasmine weird.

“Y’all too much. I’m using the restroom,” Elizabeth got out of the room and to the restroom.

The moment the door closed, she took out her phone to text Oscar; however, the screen went dark. It was dead. She groaned, but put her phone back into her pocket to do her business. It looked like the text will have to wait for awhile. The sophomore was washing her hands when a bang was heard so she dried her hands and went out to see Ruby and Jamal in the living room.

“This is a serious meeting!” Ruby’s voice raised.

Elizabeth then saw Jasmine standing in front of Olivia’s room with a sulking expression on her face, “What's up with you?”

“I put misters before sisters,” Jasmine pouted.

Elizabeth nodded her head and made her way to her other two best friends, seeing Ruby sitting down and freaking out, “I don’t know what to do. Do I give up? Do I try harder? Jamal, be my compass. Steer me in the right direction! Do you know anything that could Oliviate,” Ruby yelled out, “I mean, alleviate this obsession?”

Elizabeth sat next to her lovestruck friend, “compa, give her time to see how amazing you are. That’s all she needs. Time. you need to focus on you,”

“Jasmine!” Jamal stood up, “come,”

“I can’t. I’m on blast. I was kickin’ it with my bitches when those bitches kicked me out,” Jasmine rolled her eyes, “I guess I was all about the D,”

“Interesting. Ruby is having the same problem, sans the d. He’s making everything about a girl. I’ll leave you two to discuss,” a knock sounded at the door, “screw this. Cesar’s not here. I’m out of here. I don’t need this,”

Jamal was heading to the door so Elizabeth went to the kitchen to find snacks, but stopped for a second when she heard Jamal gasp and the door slam. She paid no mind and continued until she heard the police sirens.

“This is LAPD. This block is on lockdown. For your safety, remain inside until further notice,”

“Fucking shit!” Elizabeth yelled.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck in the house with Oscar!” Jamal yelled.

Elizabeth let the cabinets slam as she made her way into the living room to see Oscar turn his head to look at Jamal, but his attention moved to the sophomore. His eyes changed from stone to relief.

“‘Scar? What are you doing here?” Elizabeth looked at him with confusion.

Ruby’s phone started ringing so he picked up, “Ma! Yeah, I’m safe. No, I’m inside,” Ruby walked away to talk to his mom in private.

“Mamita,” Oscar sighed, “you didn’t answer my texts,”

Elizabeth moved to sit on the arm of the couch before holding up her phone, “my phone died,”

Jamal and Jasmine moved to sit on the couch, but moved a space when Oscar had sat next to Elizabeth. The gang leader sighed, leaning back to relax into the couch and pulling Elizabeth to sit on his lap. The Santo rubbed his forehead when Jamal started talking to him.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?” Jamal asked.

“Personal space,” Oscar kept rubbing his forehead.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand that was rubbing his forehead, resting it on her lap, “fool, you’re gonna make your forehead red,”

Jamal stood and moved to sit where Elizabeth previously had sat.

“Yo, why you so close to me?” Oscar raised his voice, “there is like five other seats,”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Jamal tensed, “if that’s ok. But if it’s not okay, I don’t need to ask, even though I’m dying to know, but I don’t need to die. Not that you’d kill…”

“J!” Elizabeth laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder, “relax,”

“If I say yes, will you shut up?” Jamal nodded, “shoot,”

“Do you know who Lil Ricky is?”

“Which Lil Ricky? You talking about Baby Ricky’s daddy or Tiny Ricky’s son?” Oscar raised an eyebrow.

“Ricardo Galindo,”

Oscar laughed, “ahh, Lil Ricky. What you want with Lil Ricky? He’s the original veterano,”

“The OV,” Jamal moved his arms weird.

“Doesn’t work that way,” Oscar replied.

“My bad,” Jamal stopped, “is there anything you could tell me?”

“Do I scare you?” Oscar looked at Jamal nodding his head, “well he scares me,”

Ruby walked back to the living room, “my parents are stuck, which sucks ‘cause they were on a Costco run. There are no snacks in the house,”

“But...if I don’t have snacks,” Jamal looked at Ruby then to Jasmine, “tell me you have snacks in your purse,”

“Boo, you know I do,” Jasmine smiled, “it’s egg salad, but...it’s warm,”

“I’ll take it,” Jamal whimpered.

Oscar and Elizabeth sniffed the horrid smell, while Oscar grimaced, Elizabeth gagged and tried to push her face into Oscar to try and forget the atrocious smell. Jamal put it up in front of his face.

“Jamal, do not eat that. It is not that serious,” Elizabeth said, but he ignored her as he put it in his mouth and chewed.

“Why are you eating that?” Ruby asked, disgusted.

“For the greater good,”

Another terrible smell came up.

“Is that the sandwich?” Oscar tightened his jaw.

“No. it’s me,” Jasmine winced, “I got the egg booty coughs,”

“Oh, I swear to God if you don’t go away!” Oscar yelled, pointing to a direction.

Jasmine scurried as Elizabeth held onto Oscar’s cheeks, “‘Scar, calmate, por favor,” his phone started ringing so Elizabeth moved off of his lap when he saw it, “where can I take this?”

“There’s no one in the bathroom,” Ruby pointed to the bathroom.

“Que honda?” Oscar made his way to the bathroom.

Time passed, Oscar was still in the restroom and Olivia and Monse came out of Olivia’s room.

“I have to pee so bad and I’m sprouting major turtle head. Will someone please tell Oscar to get out of the bathroom?” Jasmine did the potty dance in the kitchen.

“No. You do it,” Monse said.

“Sure, but he ain’t gonna come out,” Elizabeth walked to the bathroom door and knocked, “Oscar, Jas needs to use the restr-”

Oscar had opened the door and pulled her inside, “‘sup, hermosa,”

“Jasmine needs to use the restroom,” Elizabeth giggled.

“And?” Oscar rolled his eyes, “I don’t really care since she interrupted good air with her farts,”

Oscar lifted Elizabeth up, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist and arms around his neck to keep herself up. His hand were placed under his thighs, moving to hold her up by her butt. His lips went up to a smirk when he felt the muscular butt of the girl he felt normal with, possibly fell in love with, and it grew when he saw her cheeks turn red before she turned to try and hide it.

“Mamita, don’t hide,” Oscar set her on the sink, “tu es muy hermosa when you blush,”

“Shut up, stupid,” Elizabeth laughed, wrapping her arms tighter to push her face into his neck.

The two were together in a comfortable silence as Oscar’s hands began caressing her thighs and Elizabeth’s hands played with the back of his necklace and lightly traced his neck. They stared into each others eyes, slowly leaning in, but the lights had gone out and Elizabeth looked up. Oscar couldn’t leave the restroom without a little taste of her lips, even if it was just a peck, so he laid a hand on her cheek and quickly pecked it to wait for her reaction. Her eyes grew wide open with her cheeks beginning to get red.

“Uhhh. We gotta go back out there s-so they d-don’t think that we’re d-d-doing anything,” Elizabeth cleared her throat, trying to hide her smile, but failing.

“Alright, bebe,” Oscar chuckled, “after this lockdown is over, let’s go to McDonald’s and get nuggets,”

Elizbeth squealed and jumped up and down, “thank you, Oscar,” she hugged him and kissed his cheek.

The two exited the bathroom, Oscar put an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders, but walked in to her friends’ playing a game and Ruby saying, “we’re having sex, and alot of it. She made me get clipped,”

Elizabeth groaned while Oscar started laughing.

“Want to play?” Jamal asked the leader.

“Ok,” Oscar pointed to Ruby, “I’d kill you,” Jamal, “I’d kill you,” Olivia, “I’d smash you,” Monse, “I’d smash you,” Jasmine was next and doing anything to seem sexy to the older man, “fine. I’d smash you too then kill you,” Elizabeth, “now with you, I’d definitely marry you,”

Elizabeth blushed while Oscar pulled her into the kitchen to place her against the wall blocking everyone’s view of them.

“Your turn,” Oscar smirked while he leaned his forearm against the wall and his other hand on her waist, effectively trapping her in.

“I’d marry you, smash you, and kill Jasmine,” Elizabeth winked causing Oscar to laugh.

“Good. I would have killed the pendejos you’d smash or marry if you didn’t say it was me,”

“Oh, shut up,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes as the sound of the door opening and slamming shut rang throughout the house.

“You kissed Olivia?!” Monse yelled.

“Oh fuck,” Elizabeth leaned her head back to rest on the wall.

“Is it true?” Ruby yelled.

Elizabeth groaned, plugging one of her ears and making a finger gun with her free hand, pretending to shoot herself in the mouth. Oscar chuckled and grabbed her hand to walk her to the main room, “y’all messed up!” he yelled making the room stop and looked at Cesar, “we got business,”

Oscar pulled Elizabeth to the door to go to his car, but Cesar’s voice stopped him, “What about the lockdown?” Oscar glanced at the group, “it’s done,”

Elizabeth excitedly follows Oscar out of the house and free from the tension to go to McDonald’s and get her chicken nuggets.

@lostgirl219​ @love-me-91393​

[1000roughdrafts]

Downtime

Square filled: Sex Pollen

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Explicit 18+ / Warnings: language (y/n in this is quite crude and has a mouth on her lol), self-stimulation/masturbation/fingering, smut, vaginal penetration, fluff, 

Word Count: 3.9k 

A/N: incorporating a card from Kink Poker  Poker Card: A♠ (Masturbation, “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”) from KinkPoker

Created for @spnkinkbingo​ 

Hunting witches drug you and Dean across eight different states in a matter of three weeks. Three fucking weeks. No hunt had ever taken so long, and it left you feeling incredibly frustrated, drained, and even incompetent. The bitch was leaving bread crumbs that lead absolutely nowhere, and that was no mistake. No, she knew exactly what she was doing. 

You affectionately nicknamed the first location ‘Ghost Town Fucking Georgia’. You stormed into an abandoned building, guns loaded with witch killing bullets and ready for a fight, only to find a deserted altar with the candles still burning. This last location, Miserable Motherfucking Missouri, you walked into a greenhouse; no witches, just a shit ton of flowers. 

Sam stayed at the bunker with Eileen, with the promise that he’d look further into the case and keep you posted, and you wouldn’t call him after midnight unless it was an emergency. After working non-stop, you needed a break, so Dean and you decided to take two days and one night off; get some drinks, relax, and get right back to it in the morning. 

Right now, you couldn’t even fucking think straight. Not with this - out of nowhere - evocative feeling breathing down your neck. And with the exhaustion that plagues you, you can’t bring yourself to give a shit about the mix up with the motel’s front desk about the bed situation. 

“Looks like we’re finally gonna sleep together,” jokes Dean, but you find no humor in it. Not when you’re feeling the way you have been since stumbling upon the witch’s science experiment. 

“God, I wish Sam were here right now,” you mutter under your breath, kicking off your shoes and leaving them by the door. He would definitely know what to do about this mystery plant. 

“What, don’t like me anymore, Y/N?” Dean says, lips curled up to one side in an intoxicating smirk. Wait, you think, intoxicating? What the fuck is wrong with me? 

You turn your body away from him, trying to place your attention on anything but Dean’s allure. He drops onto the bed, letting his bag fall to the side as he lay back. When you don’t offer a reply, he sits up, rolling his eyes at seeing you at the desk, papers spread out in front of you. 

Even as you’re facing away from him you can somehow still feel his every move as he stands from the bed. From his calloused, yet gentle hands setting down next to him as they lift the rest of his enticing, muscular body , to the way his musk of a long day’s work wafts from him. 

“I thought we were gonna take some time off,” he criticizes, setting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing them tenderly. 

Your eyes shut involuntarily, and you accidentally let out a soft, and thankfully unnoticed, moan. Clearing your throat, you roll your shoulders back to knock his hands from them. 

“Don’t... don’t do that,” you plead. “I’m just trying to figure out what this plant is.” 

“Why?” he asks, moving back to sit on the bed, seemingly indifferent to your rejection. Right. Why does that even bother you? 

“Why what?” you ask, distracted by his smell. 

“Jeeze, Y/N, I know it’s been a while since you’ve had some shut eye, but it’s like your brain is shutting down,” he chuckles, “why are you looking into that plant? There were hundreds,” he says with a shrug. “It was a distraction, another ploy, a wild fucking goose chase.” 

Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, you stutter, “I just... I find this one interesting, that’s all.” 

“Come on, it’s one in the morning. I don’t need you wakin’ me up getting into bed at six when you can’t figure it out.” 

Without removing your eyes from the picture on your phone, you mutter, “you wouldn’t wake up if the room caught fire, Dean. You’ll survive.” 

Coming to stand next to you, his presence feels magnetizing, like you’re full of static electricity, hair standing on end and needy for him to touch you, to release the built up energy. 

“Dean, could you not-” you sigh, shoulders dropping as you let out the breath. “Could you please not stand so close? You’re making me feel... uncomfortable,” you squeak, shifting in your seat when you feel that intimate slick of arousal in your underwear. ‘Uncomfortable’ is a good way to put the way you feel, but not for the reasons he might think. 

“You’ve never felt that way around me before,” he says, almost insulted. Ugh, I can’t help it! God, why can’t I help it? 

“I know, I know, it’s just,” you force yourself to look at him, “I just-” 

“Y/N, you’re sweating,” he interrupts, placing a hand on your forehead, “and you’re hot as hell. Are you okay?” 

“Can you just go to bed, Dean?” you grumble, jerking your body away from his touch and extending your arm straight to point at the bed. “I’m fine, and you’re kind of annoying me right now.” 

“I’m not even doing anything!” he retorts, arms thrown in the air, “fuck. What’s your problem?” he growls. “When was the last time you got some? ‘Cause you’re being a real bitch tonight.” 

The two of you had been in many fights over your five years of friendship, but him raising his voice like this has never given you the feeling it does right now. The gruffness in his quiet shouts only makes you crave more, to have him degrade you while you ride his dick for hours. 

You shake your head, trying to send the thoughts away. It’s not happening. 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“Puts you on edge, leaves you keyed up, jumpy,” the gruff has dropped from his voice, and he stands to grab a beer from the small fridge. “Besides, we’ve been glued to the fucking hip since we started this lost cause of a case, so Lord knows I need it, too,” he says, bringing the neck of the bottle to his lips. 

You groan, “ugh, can we not talk about sex right now, Dean?” I need to open a window, or take a walk. 

Dean grips onto the arms of the chair from behind you, whirling it around to face him. He has you cornered with his arms on either side of you as he stares you down with squinted eyes. You would do anything to avoid this rousing eye contact, but you can’t pull away. 

“What’s goin’ on with you? Did something happen back there that you’re not telling me?” 

You open your mouth to, yes, feed him a lie, but the sharp bastard catches it before it comes out. 

With a tsk and a quick tilt of his head, he brings a finger up, just inches away from your nose. “Ah ah, no ma’am,” he says, dropping to a crouch in front of you. “I want the truth. Now.” 

Feeling yourself get even wetter than before, you bring your eyes into your lap. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you throw your hands onto your cheeks in hopes of cooling them down. 

“Is it hot in here? It’s pretty hot in here, right?” you say, dropping your hands and quickly standing to rush past him for the window. 

You allow the crisp breeze to hit the fire you feel on your face and close your eyes as you revel in the short, but sweet, release from this ravenous and almost uncontrollable desire to fuck your best friend. 

At first it’s his finger that you feel, wrapping around your elbow, and then his palm as he closes his grip on your arm, and why is everything seemingly moving in slow motion? 

He flips you around and grips onto both of your arms tightly, and you’ll be damned if you didn’t at least try to hold in that moan. 

His lips pursed, head tilted curiously. He drops his hands and takes a step back, letting your arms drop to your sides as he lets go. 

“Did you just... did you just moan?” Oh God, oh God, he looks disgusted. Or is that intrigue?? 

Covering your face again, you let out a groan and push your knees together, trying to release some of this tension. 

“Yes,” you sheepishly admit, letting out a whine in frustration. “I don’t know what happened! Like, an hour after we left the greenhouse, I started to feel...” you trail off. 

“Horny?” he asks with a faint smirk. You can only nod, keeping your eyes on the floor. “Well, there’s ways to take care of that, but I’ll tell you right now, it’s not by doing homework.” 

“Yeah, except I’m pretty sure the fucking plant is to blame.” You think for a moment, “you know who would know what to do? Sam. And I know what I promised him, but I think this qualifies as an emergency. Don’t you? Yeah, this is definitely an emergency. I can not be stuck in this room, feeling this way, with you loo-” you throw an arm at him in gesture, accidentally meeting eyes with him as the last word nearly slipped from your lips. 

Hoping he wouldn’t press the matter, you grab your phone off of the desk and search for Sam’s contact. 

Dean’s presence even more alluring now, he grips onto your arm and runs his hand down to your wrist, grabbing the phone and setting it back on the desk. 

“’Loo-’ what?” 

“No, nothing, Winchester. We’ve been friends for way too long, I’m not about to do anything to jeopardize that.” 

“Well, that’s both of our decision to make, don’t you think?” he says, “how are you feeling right now, anyway?” he asks like he already knows the answer, but is just waiting to hear you say it out loud. 

You sigh heavily. Just give it up. “I feel like if I don’t fuck someone soon, I’m gonna die.” 

He laughs, softly but heartily. “It’s not funny, asshole,” you say, trying to lighten the mood with a chuckle, but your dripping pussy clenches at the vibration, and you’re right back to square one. 

“It’s been a while for both of us, you know,” he says, trailing off. 

“I’m listening,” you urge. 

“And... obviously you’re a little bit more in need than I am,” he chuckles, “but we both need this, right?” You nod quickly, “and we both... want this, right?” he asks, an eyebrow raised. 

Ah, there it is, you think, my knight in shining fucking armor, asking for consent. 

“I’ve never anted anything more, Dean,” you say in a whisper, taking a slow step towards him. 

“For how long?” he questions, face scrunched up in intrigue. 

“For about six hours. Clothes off. Now,” you snap your fingers and point to the bed. 

“Woah, woah,” he chuckles, “slow your roll baby cakes. I’m not doing anything unless I get your permission. I don’t want you regretting all this in the morni-” 

“This isn’t a fucking contract, Dean,” you shout. “It’s sex. You down? Cause I might just go to that bar we passed and-” 

“Get on the bed,” he demands. 

Smiling, you waste no time in removing all of your clothes and lay on the bed. Running your hands across your breasts and down your stomach, you focus on keeping them above your belly button. 

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch,” he says, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, drawing back the sleeves. 

“Excuse me?” you say, springing up to sit straight, your hands planted behind you on the bed to hold you up. 

He casually walks to sit in the chair. Resting his forearms on the arms of the chair, he leans back slightly. “I’m serious, Y/N.” You stay silent, mouth agape at the surprise, “look, you want this? Prove it.” 

Scoffing, you scoot down to the edge of the bed. “I won’t lie to you, Dean, I kind of like it when you boss me around,” you say setting your fingertips on his cheek, caressing his face as you bring your hand around to the back of his neck. 

He grips onto your wrist, but leaves it. Without moving his head, his darkening eyes turn to yours, “then prove it.”

“Fine,” you chirp. Leaning back and supporting your upper body with one elbow, you pull your feet as close to your ass as you can, exposing all of you to his viewing pleasure. 

Eyes glued to his, you place two fingers on top of your clit, walking them back and forth and moving slowly down to your entrance. As you flick that sweet spot just below your clit, you watch as Dean’s eyes trail down from yours. They slowly roll down your naked chest, soaking up every detail of you and stopping to watch your fingers as the thrust inside of you. 

The way his eyes widen in lust only intensifies your libido. You throw your head back, arching your back as you continue to fuck yourself, needing for your fingers to go deeper. You feel a stir in your core as you’re slowly climbing towards your orgasm, but as soon as you feel that rise it escapes you. 

You growl in frustration bringing your head back to face Dean. Pulling your hand from yourself, you smile when Dean tilts his head. 

Without saying a word, you scoot to the edge of the bed and let your legs fall between Dean’s. You work his belt, quickly unbuttoning it before unzipping his pants. He lets out a sigh, moaning as you pad his growing dick over his boxers. 

His hands fly on top of you breasts, massaging them gently before bringing his fingers to your nipples. You let out a moan when he pinches them, temporarily stalled in your attempt to undress him. 

With his fingers gripping onto the elastic of his pants, he stands and pushes them, along with his boxers, down to his feet. He leans to press his lips against yours in an intense kiss, surprising the both of you at the jolt of it. You stall for a moment, your lips frozen against his as your mind catches up to what you’re doing. 

When you feel that stir once again, you drop your thoughts and leave them behind as you fiercely kiss him back. With his palms against your chest, he starts to gently push you back onto the bed, but you pull away. 

He looks at you curiously, but before he can question if you want to go further, you place your hands on the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head. Putting your hands on his chest, you push him back into the chair. A smile forms on his lips as it rolls back and hits the desk, causing you both to giggle before you place a knee to one side of him. 

You keep your eyes on his as you bring your other leg up. Dropping down onto him, you use your hand to guide his cock inside of you. Both of you let out a voiceless moan as his thickening member fills you. Your eyes shut as you let out another lust filled moan, and your head tilts back as you lift yourself just a bit. 

Using the arm chairs to hold yourself up, your back arches as you get him to hit your sweet spot. He puts his hands to the small of your back, pulling your chest against his as you ride him. With your hands now on his shoulders, you grip onto him, using them to add more power to your grind. 

Both of you now breathless, the moans come out as croaking pleas for more. His legs straighten out to give you more room to work, so his hands tighten around your shoulder blades to hold you up. He pulls you up and down on top of him, and heat swarms your back where his fingers dig into you, but it only serves to excite you more. 

“Fuck,” you groan, and in hearing your voice, he lets out a low growl, letting his head fall back against the desk. “Oh my god,” you cry, dropping your lips onto his neck.

You only mean to leave pleasurable kisses in a trail to his mouth, but the harder he pounds into you, the more vocal he is, the more your teeth dig into his skin. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t ask you to stop. Rather, he lowers his hands to get a better grip of you and starts to pull you down onto him as he pumps inside of you. 

His name escapes your lips in multiple syllables as you bounce on him. Your legs begin to shake as the earth shattering orgasm hits you. Your mouth freezes on his neck, open but no longer baring any teeth as you squeak out an airy moan. Thrusting into you a few more times he lets out his own deep moan, filling you with hot cum as you collapse on top of him. 

A few silent moments pass, and to you it feels like hours. You keep your face in the crook of his neck as the both of you catch your breath. With wide eyes you stare at the floor, wondering what the hell you’ve just gotten yourself into. 

This doesn’t have to change anything, right? You think, trying to convince yourself that things can easily go back to normal. This doesn’t mean things are different, you affirm. 

You presume Dean feels a similar confusion, as his hands haven’t moved from your back, nor has he spoken a word. Fear of facing him is overpowered by the numbness that fills your thighs from the position, so you slowly lift your upper body to take a peak at his face. 

His eyes are closed, and a slight smile rests on his lips. Before you can think about anything else, you draw your face closer to his, and plant a soft, affectionate kiss on his lips. When you pull away, his eyes open and oscillate between yours. 

“What’cha thinking about?” you ask him. 

He keeps his eyes on yours, carefully calculating a response. “About how absolutely amazing you are,” he chuckles, lightly blushing. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just saying that cause I fucked you,” you laugh, lifting your body up to stand down from the chair. You suddenly feel embarrassed to be naked around him. A heat fills your cheeks, and you turn your body away from him to walk towards the bathroom. 

Grabbing a hand towel you clean yourself up and look into the mirror at your sweaty face, the way your hair frizzed up and flies to and fro. Chuckling at the appearance you straighten your hair out just a bit and walk back into the room. 

Dean, still naked, lies on the bed on his chest. His arms rest under the pillow as his head is turned in your direction. Smiling when he sees you, he lifts his head up just a bit. 

“Should we-” you start, pausing to clear your throat. “Should we talk about what just happened?” you sheepishly ask. 

He pushes himself up with a soft groan, sitting on the edge of the bed as you walk over to him. “What’s there to talk about?” he shrugs with a smile, “you were sick and I cured you,” he jokes, but with the thoughts that circle in your mind, you find no humor in it. The smile drops from his lips when you don’t respond. He grips onto your wrists, causing you to look down at him. “See, this is what I was talking about,” he starts, and you detect a shakiness in his voice that you can’t help but to latch onto.

Is that... hurt? 

Your eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head, “no, Dean, it’s not that,” you say, pulling yourself from his hands to sit next to him on the bed. He rotates his body to face you. “I don’t regret it. I just-” you stop, letting your eyes fall onto the floor. “What if we-” you sigh, reminding yourself that this is your best friend. He’s the only person you’ve ever felt comfortable sharing every intimate detail of yourself, even prior to tonight. He’s been there for you through thick and thin, and if you could get through everything you have been, surely you can overcome telling him how you feel. 

You turn your body to face him, grabbing onto his hands. “I just need to get something off of my chest, and I’m sure we could talk more about this later. I don’t want to spring anything on you, especially with everything that’s going on, and the fact that with the life we live we don’t get to make these kinds of decisions often. I mean, you’ve said so yourself, we don’t get a happy ending-” 

“Y/N, what are you saying?” he interrupts with wide eyes. You haven’t a clue how long he’s been rubbing your finger against your thumb, but you zone into it. Does he even know that he’s doing that? Is it on purpose? Does this just come with sex with a Winchester? 

Your mind reels, heart pounding in your chest as you remind yourself that he’s always been a safe space for you, someone you could talk to about anything, so you take a deep breath. 

“Dean, I felt something when you kissed me,” you say, letting out a breath of relief as the words finally spill out. “I know we’ve been friends for a long time, and I really truly meant what I said about not wanting to ruin that, and I don’t know if you felt it, too, but what if?” you leave it open to let him decide what should come after the ‘if’. 

His hand slips from under yours and he cups your chin, bringing your face to level with his. A smile dances on his lips as if he can’t decide whether he should keep it or not. His opposite hand finds a spot on your cheek and he uses his thumb to rub a soft circle on your face before letting his hand trail to your ear. 

He puts a stray hair behind your ear and brings his face closer to yours. Your breath hitches in your throat and you keep your eyes on him, anticipating his every move, but wondering if this is one of his sick, practical jokes. But he doesn’t stop. The hand under your chin cups around your throat as his lips clash against yours. You open your mouth to the kiss, scooting closer as his hand slides down your throat and onto your chest. 

When he pulls away, he plants his eyes on yours, smiling brightly. 

“Is that a... yes?” you say, holding back your smile until he can say the words aloud. 

He nods, and you let out a breath, the smile forming on your lips as you pull him in for another kiss. 

“We can talk about it more in the morning,” he says, scooting back to fluff his pillow. Motioning for you to lay next to him, he says, “for now, lets get some sleep.” 

Still wearing a smile, you lean over to shut the lamp off before cuddling up next to him. Your heart pounds in your chest as you rest your head against his. As the excitement fades out, sleep fades in, and you find yourself falling asleep in each other’s arms for the first time, wondering what the future holds for the two of you. 

PermaTags<3 @waywardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @flamencodiva 

Dean Queens<3 @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space 

(if your tag is in bold, tumblr won’t let me link your profile, sorry :( ) 

[calumcest]

masterlist

ok firstly please bear in mind most of these fics were written in 2014/15 when i was 16 so please do not judge their quality too harshly

-

ao3

[there are some fics on there that i haven’t put here, mainly chaptered fics but some others too]

-

drabbles (malum, lashton, cashton, mashton)

-

lashton

i can count on the sun to shine

It’s not been the easiest of days, but it’s not been the roughest either, so Ashton’s half-surprised when Luke crawls into his lap and curls up in it, looping his arms around Ashton’s neck and nosing into Ashton’s neck, breath warm and even against Ashton’s skin.

my beating heart belongs to you

“God, you’re all sweaty,” Michael adds, and Ashton snorts because that is fucking rich coming from the guy whose sweat has disintegrated two shirts so far this tour. “That’s how Luke likes me,” Ashton fires back, and Calum pulls a face whilst Michael laughs. “What’s how I like you?” Luke asks, coming up behind Ashton and wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on Ashton’s head.

young and in love (that should be enough)

“Ashton.” Luke draws out the second syllable, pouting to add effect to his words. “Lukey,” Ashton says, stringing out the second syllable too in a softly mocking manner. “What do you want?” “A cuddle,” Luke announces, “from my favourite boyfriend.”

say you’ll never change

@Luke5SOS: It feels like we’re ready to crack these days you & I

it feels like we’re ready to crack these days, you & i [extended version of above fic]

It’s not really that pathetic that Ashton’s got tweet and text notifications on for Luke. Not really.

we gamble with desire

“Guys,” Michael says, making his way into the back lounge. “Have you heard of fanfiction?”

rules of the band

In retrospect, it’s kind of Ashton’s fault that it all starts. He’d eaten the last of the Vegemite, something he knows Michael and Calum feel very strongly about, and it had resulted in a sheet of paper pinned to the fridge by a frog magnet that had ‘Rules of the Band’ scrawled in Calum’s handwriting at the top. Rules of the Band

      NOBODY WILL EAT THE LAST OF THE VEGEMITE!!!

soulmates

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

my friends are a different breed

“What’s happening?” Calum says, walking out into the living room. “Luke and Ashton weren’t kissing,” Michael informs him. Calum nods. “We weren’t,” Ashton says in what he hopes is a believable tone.

i’ve got a lot of friends who are stars

The city’s fucking beautiful at night.

dreams only last for a night

Luke prefers it when Ashton’s asleep.

happy father’s day dad :-)

@Calum5SOS: @Ashton5SOS happy Father’s Day dad :-)

my friends are everything

CH: Who’s eaten the last of the fucking vegemite

AI: wtf that was like rule number 1

my new comfort zone

It’s when it starts getting to the tense, anticipatory bit of the film where the gang of actual idiots are about to enter the house which Luke’s ninety-nine percent sure has a murderer in it, that’s when Luke whimpers and turns away from the screen, burying his face in the crook of Ashton’s neck.

as the night gets older of you i grow fonder

Luke’s eight when Ashton moves in next door. (based on the video for you belong with me)

coffee shop soundtrack

“Mind if I sit here?” the guy asks, and there’s a kind of apologetic hint to his tone. “Everywhere else is full.” Full? The coffee shop's never full- Oh. Apart from today, apparently. Every single seat is taken. “Oh, Luke says. “Uh. Sure.“

taking the long way home

“May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-”

if these walls could talk (they’ve seen way too many things)

The announcement comes late, at eight p.m., interrupting radio and TV broadcasts and flashing up on phone screens. Due to the current pandemic, the state is now on mandatory lockdown for three weeks. All citizens have until midnight to return to their places of residence. Those outside after midnight will be subject to severe penalties. Further information to follow. “You have to leave,” Ashton says. “You have to go.” Luke blinks. “They’re locking down the state.”

as he faced the sun he cast no shadow

Ashton doesn’t really realise he’s fallen out of love until it’s happened. 

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon (soulmate au)

chapter one ~ chapter two ~ chapter three ~ chapter four ~ chapter five ~ chapter six ~ chapter seven

The tattoos appear one Wednesday night. What’s yours?” Michael demands, sounding beside himself with excitement. Luke frowns. “What’s my what?” “Your tattoo.”

fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet

Luke hates a good ninety-five percent of his job. A solid thirty percent of that comes from the fact that he works as a receptionist at a hotel, which he thinks is possibly the most thankless job humanity could possibly have created. A further ten comes from the fact that his desk is right next to the kitchen, meaning mouth-watering smells are constantly wafting under his nose, and Luke’s not allowed to eat on shift. Fifty-five percent of it, though, is Ashton.  

there’s no time for running away now

It’s three a.m., and Ashton’s awake. On the surface, that might not appear to be a problem. And ordinarily, it wouldn’t be - ordinarily, Ashton would either roll over groggily, will sleep to come with every fibre of his being and maybe a quick prayer or two, or read something mind-numbingly boring like his urgent work emails to send him back to sleep. This, however, isn’t the most ordinary situation. Ashton is awake because of Luke.

-------

malum

make me a promise here tonight

“Calum,” Michael says, walking into the bunk area and stopping in front of Calum’s bunk. “Cal.” “What?” Calum asks, not looking up from his phone. “I think we should get married.”

we know this is the way it’s supposed to be

Calum’s always the first person Michael rings in an emergency. Like right now, for example. Right now’s an emergency. “What the fuck do you want, Clifford?” Calum groans, voice tinny through the shitty phone line, but he’s picked up after the first ring so Michael knows he doesn’t mean it. “I need help,” Michael says, trying to stop the phone from slipping down his chest from where it’s pressed between his shoulder and his ear. “Green, blue, or black?“

the first time i’ve seen love (and the last i’ll ever need)

“Tell me a story.” The words are whispered into the fabric of Calum’s shirt, and Calum’s arms tighten around Michael as he hums in response. It’s familiar, the situation, because it’s what Michael always asks for when he’s tired, scared, lonely, or just wants to hear Calum’s voice.

it should be criminal that you could be mine

He can’t help but get a little jealous when Ashton and Luke start properly dating, though. He can’t help but get jealous of the way Ashton’s always taking Luke out for dinner, always holding his hand, always buying him presents, always making these romantic gestures that Michael’s never had from Calum. (or calum’s version of a dinner date)

it always will be you (wherever you are)

It started off as something kind of unnecessary. Calum already had a Twitter account, and he wasn’t someone who was afraid to speak his mind. If he had something to say, he’d say it on his public account. He’d only made the account for when he was in a bit of a shitty mood and wanted to vent or when he had an inappropriate joke that only Michael would find funny.

falling asleep on a stranger

As it is, his bus is running late today and Calum had run all the way to the bus stop from his house (a good two minutes of exercise, at least, which means he’s breathless and almost breaking a sweat by the time he reaches the bus stop) because he’d thought he was late. When he realises, however, that he could have had an extra ten minutes and actually eaten some breakfast, he groans, lets his eyes flutter shut and mutters “fuck me.” “Excuse me?” a surprised voice says, and Calum opens his eyes so fast he thinks he might have accidentally blinded himself. Standing to his left, an amused look on his face, is a boy with fluffy-looking blue hair (blue).

this could be the start of something new

He pushes past throngs of tired-looking businessmen to get into the last carriage, looking around for some seats. He’s not the only one who’s had that idea, clearly, as the last carriage is nigh-on full and Calum has the choice of two seats - one next to a balding man who’s eating what looks to be a tuna sandwich (Calum balks at the very idea) and a tattooed-up-to-hell punk kid with a shock of light pink hair in a suit, jacket on his lap. Calum goes for the latter.

you’re already the voice inside my head

“Michael didn’t say anything, mate,” Luke says, confused. “Yes, he did,” Calum says, exasperated. “I…no, I didn’t,” Michael says slowly. “What the fuck, Mike?” Calum says, perplexed. “I didn’t say it, Cal…I thought it.”

i want to teach you a lesson (in the worst kind of way)

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window. “The new PE teacher,” Michael says. “He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously. “He’s also twice your age,” Michael says. “Go on, off to your practice rooms.” The girls groan, but one by one pull themselves away from the window and start to wander off. Michael stays by the window, one eye on the girls to make sure they actually go where they’re supposed to and one eye on the new PE teacher, who’s dividing the class up into groups and handing out footballs. He is kind of hot, Michael supposes, if you’re into muscular guys who are clearly good at sports. Which Michael most definitely is.

dancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit)

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls. “Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.” “Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees.

only you (and you can hear me) 

“Uh,” Calum says, looking out into the crowd, and Michael follows his gaze, trying to find what Calum’s staring at. “I’m going to go to the teepee with Heather.” Michael’s stomach sinks. “Really?” he asks, before he can stop himself, looking over at Calum. “Yeah,” Calum says, turning to look at Michael, and Michael whips back around before Calum can see the look of please don’t written all over his face. “Alright.” (tiny dancer scene from rocketman but happy)

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back)

chapter one ~ chapter two ~ chapter three ~ chapter four ~ chapter five ~ chapter six 

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed. It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now. But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford. - or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

couldn’t make it more obvious could you (be any more obvious?)

“D’you think he was being serious?” he asks Ashton, who’s already engrossed in his phone again. “Hm?” Ashton says, without looking up. “‘Bout what?” “Jack.” That makes Ashton look up, brow furrowed. “What about him?” Calum hesitates. “Y’know,” he says, a little uncomfortably. Ashton cocks his head, raising his eyebrows in an I don’t know sort of way. “About them. Sleeping together.” “Oh,” Ashton says, shrugs, and turns back to his phone. “Yeah, obviously.”

love would burn this city down for you 

There’s something so comforting about the city. Calum remembers the first time he’d got it, that rush of everything and nothing and beauty and reverence as he’d stared out at the brightly-lit scene before him, overwhelmed and trying his best to drink it all in. Fuck me, he’d thought, a delicious numbness licking at his nerves. I’m fucking irrelevant. (It was the first time he’d ever known peace.)

——-

cashton

‘cause all of the stars are fading away (just try not to worry you’ll see them someday)

Growing up isn’t easy. Nobody ever told him it would be. You’ll get hurt, his mum would say, eyes big and sad, and he’d shrug and say that’s life, not really understanding what she meant because he was yet to spend three nights in a row staring up at his ceiling, drunk and high and so miserable it somehow felt like everything and nothing at the same time. It’ll be difficult, his manager had warned, when they got their first tour with One Direction, and Ashton had shrugged and said isn’t everything?, not realising that what ‘difficult’ meant was sacrifice; his sleep, his home, his self, everything torn out at the roots and tossed aside for him to gather back into his arms again. The hardest part of growing up, though, isn’t when things happen to him, when someone breaks up with him or wakes him up two hours after he’s gone to bed or puts him on another plane six hours after he’s just got off one. The hardest part of growing up is when he looks around him and realises I’m not happy.

[artificialqueens]

You Know You Love Me, Chapter 10 (Branjie) - Kiki

A/N: I cannot believe this is the second last chapter!!! It’s a pretty short one so I hope you guys like it! I’m hoping to have the last chapter up next Saturday so until then, have a good week darlings xoxo

Brooke’s eyes fluttered open slowly and she was convinced that she must be on her deathbed. She hadn’t felt that awful in a long time. She hated that being hungover was a feeling that she was well accustomed to but she didn’t have the energy to process that thought in that particular moment. Her head was pounding and the room was far too bright even though the curtains were closed. She was just grateful that she woke up in her own bed considering she had absolutely no recollection of how she got home.

She turned her head slightly and saw a large glass of water on her nightstand. She thanked her past drunken self for this act of kindness and chugged the water, feeling some relief that the cold liquid brought her. However, her stomach did not react as well as the rest of her body did and she immediately had to jump out of bed and run to the bathroom to empty out the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

After finishing puking her guts out and wishing death upon herself, she walked back into her bedroom feeling like a zombie and preparing to sleep the rest of the day away. She gave a content sigh at the thought of doing absolutely nothing at all and was starting to feel at ease until she saw it.

Someone laying on the other side of her bed. She didn’t know how she had missed it before but she presumed the feeling of wanting to vomit took priority in her mind over scanning her bed for strangers. She couldn’t make out who the person was and she was starting to worry. As soon as she felt a tiny bit of anxiety in her body, her memories seemed to come back all at once.

Getting drunk with boarding school friends. Disappointing Vanessa. Vanessa telling her to leave her alone forever. The feelings of sadness and guilt were majorly overwhelming her and she wanted to throw up again, but not from the alcohol this time. Who the hell was in her bed? Did she seriously bring someone home to hook up with after everything that had happened?

She slowly approached the bed and saw that it was a girl who was about the same age as her. Brooke recognised the pyjamas the girl was wearing as her own and when she got closer, she felt the relief flood her body. No one else in New York had crazy bed hair like Nina West did. Brooke hadn’t prayed in years but felt herself silently thanking God that it was her old friend and not some random girl. Brooke looked down and saw she was wearing her oldest but comfiest pair of pyjamas that she had owned since she was probably fifteen years old. There was also the glass of water on her nightstand and a box of painkillers behind them. Brooke should’ve known it was Nina. A random hook up wouldn’t have got her water for the next morning and put her in her favourite pyjamas.

She took two of the tablets and downed them with water before getting back into her bed and wrapping herself up in her blanket. Nina was still fast asleep but there were so many gaps in Brooke’s memory that it was starting to worry her. The last thing she remembered was doing tequila shots at some random bar she didn’t know the name of and Nina wasn’t there. So how the hell did she find her?

Brooke knew she had to wake Nina up to get some answers. She felt bad about interrupting her sleep, of course, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She was feeling so impatient. She gently shook Nina awake and Nina woke up pretty much straight away.

“Hey…” Brooke mumbled guiltily and Nina smiled at her.

“How are you feeling?” Nina asked.

“I feel like shit…what the hell happened last night?” Brooke asked, dreading the answer. Nina looked at her with eyes full of pity.

“Oh honey, you don’t remember?” Brooke’s heart rate instantly sped up and she held her head in her hands whilst shaking her head.

“No…Nina, the last thing I remember is ordering shots in that bar at like 2am and you weren’t there. What the fuck happened, what did I do?” It had been a while since Brooke had blacked out as bad as she had the previous night. She knew that if her mother found out how bad she had been, she would be in serious trouble but she trusted Nina to be careful enough that her mother wouldn’t have noticed them coming home in the early hours of the morning.

Nina seemed like she was holding something back, like she wanted to spare Brooke’s feelings and Brooke felt like she was about to pass out. She wasn’t good at managing her anxiety at the best of times but right now, she was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Nina…please just tell me.” Brooke whispered the last part, unable to even speak properly. Nina took a deep breath before telling Brooke the whole story. She told Brooke all about how she had been at home and then saw a video of Brooke on Gossip Girl and knew she had to go get her and bring her home immediately before anything else happened. Brooke was mortified. Everyone had most likely seen her act like an absolute drunk mess by now and there was nothing she could do about it. But most of all, she felt disappointed. She hadn’t even got to tell Vanessa she loved her in person; Gossip Girl had beat her to it.

After watching the video on her own phone, Brooke wanted to curl up into a ball and die. She didn’t know how she would ever recover from the humiliation of this. If Vanessa didn’t want to be with her because she showed up drunk, she definitely wouldn’t want to be with her now that she had ruined her reputation like this. She had thought Nina’s story was over, but unfortunately for Brooke, there were more embarrassing details that Nina had forgot to tell.

“When I walked into the bar, I found you in the corner booth with a random Asian couple who didn’t speak any English. You were telling them about how soft Vanessa’s hair was, which would’ve been a pretty funny thing to find you telling strangers about if the whole video thing hadn’t happened.” Nina giggled while remembering that fact but Brooke was not ready to laugh about the whole situation yet. She didn’t know if she ever would be.

Brooke’s least favourite part of this whole situation was that when she felt upset about Vanessa not talking to her, the only person she wanted to go to for comfort was Vanessa. Vanessa was one of the only people who were constant in Brooke’s life, the only person who had always been there for her no matter what. When her parents divorced, Vanessa was there for her. When her grandfather (who was basically like a father to her) died, Vanessa was there to dry her tears. Even when Vanessa’s parents had divorced and she had felt extremely depressed and Brooke wasn’t able to be there for her, Vanessa had forgiven her. Brooke knew that Vanessa had the biggest heart out of everyone she knew and she wasn’t able to just let her go.

Brooke had fucked up many times in her life. You only had to ask her mother and she would be able to tell you many stories of all of the mistakes that Brooke has made in her eighteen years of living. But this had to be the worst thing she had ever done. She tried calling Vanessa’s phone a few times but found that her calls were getting declined almost immediately.

She decided to send her a small text so that Vanessa could read even a tiny bit of how she was feeling and what she was thinking in that moment…but she had absolutely no idea what to say to her. She typed and deleted and typed again for a good five minutes while Nina sat beside her awkwardly. Brooke was in her own world too much to notice.

She ended up sending a text that read: V, please talk to me. I can’t lose you. I just can’t.

“Had you ever told Vanessa before?” Nina asked quietly. Brooke frowned in confusion.

“Told her what?”

“That you love her.” Nina stated it so simply yet it made Brooke’s heart flutter from nervousness and her stomach ache with dread.

“No…I hadn’t got a chance to do it yet.” Brooke said with such sadness that it made Nina worry for the younger girl.

“Can I give you some advice?” Nina asked while stroking Brooke’s shoulder and Brooke just nodded solemnly, not giving Nina a response in words. “Obviously I don’t know Vanessa as well as you do…but I think that if you don’t go and tell her you love her soon, she’s going to be very upset with you.” Brooke knew that what Nina was saying made sense. In a perfect world she could just say it to Vanessa as soon as possible and all would be forgiven. But Nina didn’t see how angry Vanessa was.

“Nina…you weren’t there last night. Vanessa wants nothing to do with me anymore. I think she’d be happy if she never saw me again.” Brooke felt tears spring into her eyes when she admitted that to Nina. It was almost as if she was admitting it to herself for the first time, like it had just sunk in for her. Nina held her while she cried and let her get all of the tears out that she needed to and for that, Brooke would be eternally grateful. She hated being emotional in front of anyone but Vanessa so this was a big step up for Brooke. However, she knew that if she could swap Nina’s arms with Vanessa’s, she would do it in a heartbeat.  

“I’m sure it feels like that right now, Brooke, but come on…when have you and Vanessa ever stayed mad at each other for a long period of time?” Nina asked and deep down, Brooke knew she was right. Her and Vanessa were always a part of each other’s lives no matter what. But this time felt different. It felt like Vanessa was ready to let her go whereas Brooke couldn’t even bring herself to imagine what her life would be like without Vanessa in it. “You just need to do something to get her back. To make her forgive you. She pretends that she has no emotions but we all know deep down she’s a massive romantic. Make a plan to win her back and there’s no way she can say no to you.” It was like Nina’s words made a lightbulb go off inside Brooke’s brain. Vanessa loved big gestures. Surely there was something she could do to make Vanessa forgive her…there had to be something. Brooke seemed so deep in thought that Nina thought it would be better to leave her alone to focus on whatever she seemed to be planning in her mind.

She told Brooke she had an essay due tomorrow that she had to finish and Brooke thanked her before she left. Brooke knew she had to come up with something amazing here. It was Thanksgiving tomorrow and usually Vanessa’s family came to have dinner that Brooke’s mom organised and she knew that they were definitely coming this year. Vanessa loved Thanksgiving and she was sure that she would still come even if she wasn’t speaking to Brooke. Akeria and Silky would still be there with their families Brooke figured Vanessa would go just to see them.

Brooke tried to get into the mindset that Vanessa had when she was planning and organising events. She had to nail absolutely every detail and make everything perfect, up to Vanessa’s standards. She immediately made a list of all of Vanessa’s favourite things that she could get her to make her happy. The icing on top of the cake was going to be that Brooke was going to get her alone, tell her she loved her and ask her to be her girlfriend (providing that Vanessa didn’t storm out and would actually speak to her, of course).

Usually, something as big as this would make Brooke freak out. She usually hated being out of control of a situation and the thought of admitting that she loved someone would normally be enough to send her into a panic attack.

But this time felt different. She was excited to tell Vanessa how she really felt and of course she was nervous that Vanessa would react badly, but she also couldn’t help being positive and thinking about how great it would be if Vanessa said it back.

Brooke spent the rest of the day thinking about exactly what she wanted to say. She wanted it to be perfect. She went to bed early that night thinking about how tomorrow was going to be one of the best days of her life.

—

It was late at night in the Mateo household and Vanessa was sitting on her bed watching Dorota pack her suitcases. It seemed as though Dorota was working a lot slower than usual and Vanessa couldn’t stand it. She wanted all of her belongings packed up as quickly as possible so she could mentally prepare herself for leaving New York.

Her mom had been surprised that she wanted to go live with her dad in France, especially because of how she had said she was leaving last time and all it took was Brooke asking her to stay for her to decide to not go at all. Deep down, Mrs Mateo knew that if Brooke could somehow stop her from going, Vanessa would stay. But that was looking to be a little bit difficult considering Vanessa hadn’t told anyone she was going apart from her mom and Dorota.

Vanessa felt the tears come into her eyes for the millionth time that day but she quickly blinked them away. Anytime she thought of Brooke, she just wanted to call her and forgive her but she couldn’t do it anymore. She had to be strong and stick by her decisions…but she also knew she couldn’t do that by being in the same city as Brooke. There was too much temptation. She knew that moving to France would be the best decision for her, and it would be nice to live with her dad again.

She went to bed that night with an overwhelming feeling of sadness. She barely slept and when she did sleep, she dreamt of Brooke. She wondered how Brooke would react when she found out Vanessa was gone. She tried to pretend like she didn’t care but realistically she knew how much it was going to hurt Brooke and she felt bad about that. She also felt sad that she wasn’t going to get to have a proper Thanksgiving meal, only whatever crappy meal she had on the plane. But that was a sacrifice she had to make. She had to get out of New York and away from Brooke as soon as possible and she stood by that.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Peter Parker and Bruce Banner’s Guide on How To Make Iron Man Sleep

For @sallyidss. Happy Birthday, Sally! This is about 1% hurt and 99% comfort, or in other words, pure fluff and chicken soup. I hope you enjoy it and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading and to @maikkuax for the video game reference.

____________________

Peter wakes up to a dazzling amount of texts on Saturday morning. 

One is from Tony, sent at 3am, telling him that Bruce is sick and might not be able to help Peter with his biology project today as they had planned, but he is still welcome to drop by the tower.

Then there’s another one from Tony three hours later asking him whether he could pick up some soup while on the way; one from Bruce at 8am, telling him that Tony is sick too, but ‘he won’t admit it so just try to somehow get him to rest once you come over’; and then one more from Tony telling him to ignore whatever Bruce just told him.

Peter grins to himself while reading the texts - he can almost hear his favourite superhero couple bantering and fussing over each other. Then he gets up for breakfast with May and a shower before heading down to the corner grocery store. He gets soup (chicken for Tony and vegetable for Bruce), as well as some of the Fairtrade chocolate bars that Bruce buys for ideological reasons and Tony eats en masse because he’s got a secret sweet tooth. Peter stuffs the groceries into his school bag along with his laptop and makes his way to the tower. 

*

Tony definitely looks under the weather when he opens the door; pale and with a very clown-like red nose that is dripping constantly. 

“Hey kid, thanks for the delivery,” he jokes with a raspy voice. He takes the bag and mimics shutting the door in Peter’s face before smirking and opening it fully to let his unamused mentee in. 

“Very funny, Mr. Stark.” Peter removes his shoes and jacket and then stops, frowning. Through the hallway, he can see that the bed in the master bedroom has been demolished into what looks like a heap of firewood. “Uhm, what happened to your bed?”

“Well…” Tony interrupts himself to cough harshly into his elbow. “So, uh, we had a bit of an exciting night. Not in the fun way, unfortunately…” he trails off. “Anyway, Bruce went back to sleep after breakfast, but I thought we could head to the lab and start working on the chameleon fabric you suggested for your suit.” 

Peter is sure that working in the lab is the opposite of what Tony should be doing just now - his mentor looks even more tired than usual and the slightly glassy quality to his eyes suggests that he is running a fever - but Peter also knows that saying this out loud will only be counterproductive. 

“What if we watch a movie instead?” he suggests.

“I’m not watching a movie at eleven in the morning,” Tony protests. “We have the whole day in front of us - time to build, invent, change the world..." He flaps his hand. "All that jazz."

“Okay, okay…” Peter thinks for a second before an idea hits him. “But before we start with the suit, I do need your help with something else.”

“Now what?”

“So, Ned and I have this gaming commentary channel on YouTube where we livestream playing “The Witcher 3”? And it’s going pretty well, but Ned says he needs help developing his stage persona, you know, talking in a way that is interesting and keeps your audience engaged? So, he thought that you might give us some advice because you’ve got a ton of experience with speaking in public and all that?”

(It’s not entirely a lie - Ned and Peter have joked about getting Tony involved in order to increase their viewership, but he is pretty sure that Ned would be mortified upon hearing that Peter actually suggested it to the billionaire.)

“Wait, you and Ned are making videos of you killing virtual trolls while talking about it? And people actually watch that?”

“That’s...another way of putting it.”

“Sounds like a gigantic waste of time.” Tony scrunches up his nose. “Either I play the game myself, or I spend my downtime watching something interesting.” 

“Hey! Our last one has more than 3000 hits!” Peter defends.

“People have too much free time. Including you.” Tony points his finger at Peter before quickly covering his mouth to contain a sneeze. “But I suppose I can take a look if you really want me to…”

Peter grins. Stage one: complete.

They settle on the couch in the living room. Tony can’t suppress a small sigh when he leans against the cushions. He massages the bridge of his nose in a way that makes it clear to Peter he must be nursing a headache. 

“Hit me, kid,” he orders.

“Okay, but before we start, you need to know a few things...” Peter launches into a long-winded explanation of the game’s storyline with more than a few unnecessary details of the characters’ backgrounds. He pretends to concentrate on the screen where he walks Tony through different tutorials, but out of the corner of his eye he sees his mentor slowly sinking deeper and deeper into couch.

“...and then they bring Uma to the witcher school of Kaer Morhen,” Peter goes on as Tony tiredly attempts to follow along, his blinks growing longer and longer each time, “where Yennefer removes his curse and transforms him into Avallac'h...” 

When Peter can’t think of anything else to babble about, he starts playing their most recent video. Tony sits up a little straighter and rubs a hand over his face to concentrate. But at about the two minute mark, he stops the screen with a wave of his hand.

“So, not to be rude, but that was kind of painful, Tony declares. “You guys literally started with a 45 second explanation of why you prefer the old controller design to the new one. No wonder you’re putting people to sleep.”

Peter frowns a bit. “I mean, we weren’t that bad…” he defends. “And the new ones do kind of suck.”

“Sure, kid,” Tony huffs. He shifts position on the sofa with a sigh. “Alright, listen. It’s obvious that you two are knowledgeable about this game, but if you want to engage your audience, you’ve gotta try to establish your credentials in a way that’s still interesting and relatable. For instance, I once started a TED Talk by describing how I hacked NASA during an MIT frat party so that I could send a rocket to draw a dick over San Francisco. ”

Peter snorts at that admission. 

“See? Exactly,” Tony points out. “That’s the kind of reaction you want your audience to have - that’s called a hook, kid.” 

The longer they watch, the more Tony seems to be melting into the couch. His comments become less and less frequent, and at some point he leans his head back against the pillow, barely looking at the screen anymore. By the third video, Peter can see his mentor’s eyelids fluttering shut. 

He waits for a few minutes and then pauses the screen, just to see Tony’s eyes fly open again. “I’m listening!” he assures. 

“Yeah, I know.” Peter hides a smirk. “Just, uhm, relax a bit.”

“I see what you’re trying to do here, kid. I’m not stupid,” Tony protests nasally, stifling another sneeze, but he doesn’t make any move to get up from the couch. 

Peter starts the video again, knowing that the battle has been won. Five minutes later, Tony is asleep. 

Peter watches a few more videos on his own (now that he pays attention, he realises that most of Tony’s suggestions, despite being sarcastic, are actually in line with what the popular streamers do) before FRIDAY informs him that Bruce has woken up. 

He finds the scientist in the kitchen, making tea. 

“Hey Dr. Banner,” Peter greets. “How are you?”

“Hey Peter.” Bruce gives him a warm and slightly sleepy smile. His voice is a bit hoarse. “I’m fine. Is Tony asleep?”

“Yep,” Peter declares proudly. “Used my hypnotically soothing voice. And obscure video game lore."

Bruce heaves out a sigh. “Finally, thank god. I had, uhm… kind of an incident last night and I don’t think he slept at all after that.” 

Peter thinks back to the broken bed frame and chooses not to comment.

“Do you want some tea?” Bruce asks.

“No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Bruce takes out a box of cookies instead and hands a few to Peter. “So, what was this thing you wanted me to look at with you?”

“Oh, it’s just a bio project,” Peter says with a shrug. “But we can do it some other time, when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m okay...” Peter gives him a suspicious look and Bruce’s smile deepens. “No need for that - I’m not Tony, I would tell you if I wasn’t up for it. But I am actually feeling much better after sleeping and I wouldn’t mind some distraction.”

“Okay, well then...”

Peter likes Bruce a lot. It took him a while to get close to him because Bruce is not a person who easily lets people in, but now whenever Peter visits the tower, he looks forward to seeing the scientist almost as much as he does to seeing Tony. 

Tony is brilliant, energetic, and funny, and he constantly encourages Peter to think deeper, work harder, do better - to improve himself. Which is a fun challenge, but it can also be quite exhausting at times. Working with Bruce is the exact opposite. He makes Peter feel calm, slows him down when he overthinks, and makes it clear that mistakes are something that happen to everyone and nothing Peter should be too concerned about. While spending time with Tony is the equivalent of a rollercoaster ride, being with Bruce feels more like a calm day at the beach, and Peter has realised that he needs both from time to time. 

They move to Bruce’s study (since Bruce doesn’t allow food in his lab and they don’t actually need to do any experiments for Peter’s project) with Peter’s laptop, biscuits, and several bars of Fairtrade chocolate. 

*

Tony wakes up with the blurry images of a nightmare still on the rims of his consciousness. He feels cold, achy, and slightly out of breath. It takes him a few disoriented moments to realise that his face is mostly buried into a couch pillow, blocking his mouth and nose. He frees himself and sits up stiffly, wiping at his slightly damp cheeks. His nose is dripping annoyingly and he isn’t sure whether that’s only because of the cold. 

“FRIDAY?” he prompts nasally. 

“It is 1:17pm on Saturday afternoon. Dr. Banner and Mr. Parker are working in the study room. Everyone is safe and well, boss.” 

“Okay. Thanks, FRI.” Tony takes another few moments to ground himself before getting up from the sofa, rather unsteadily. His body seems to have tripled in weight and his head feels like an overfilled balloon that’s ready to burst. He kind of wants to fall back onto the couch and go to sleep again, but at the same time he definitely doesn’t want to revisit the dreams he just had. 

Instead, he ventures into the study where he finds his partner, who is sporting an adorable bedhead, together with his mentee enthusiastically modelling a DNA strand on a laptop screen.

“Coffee?” Tony asks hoarsely.

“Good afternoon to you too, Tony,” Bruce smirks and nods towards a pot sitting on the table. Tony pours himself a mug and downs it in one go, marvelling at how much better it makes his throat feel immediately. 

Feeling slightly more human and ready to deal with the actual world, he leans over Bruce’s shoulder and nuzzles his head against his partner’s ear. “How you feeling, green bean?”

“I’m much better. Sleeping helped a lot, actually.” Tony gives him a critical once-over and seems to accept that. “Peter is doing an impressive job with his project, by the way,” Bruce adds.

Peter blushes at the compliment. “It’s not me - Dr. Banner is helping me a lot!” 

“I’m really just sitting here and watching you work,” Bruce dismisses before addressing Tony again. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m”—Tony’s voice breaks in the middle of the sentence and he has to clear his throat before continuing—“I’m good.”

“Mm-hmm.” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “FRIDAY, what’s his temperature at?”

“100.2 degrees, Dr. Banner.”

“Thanks.” He turns to Tony, who is coughing again. There seems to be a brick stuck inside his chest and it feels like he can’t take a full breath at all. Bruce gives him a concerned look. “This sounds painful.”

“‘S okay,” Tony dismisses.

“Maybe you should try using the inhaler -”

“Stop mother-henning, Bruce,” he grumbles with a glance at Peter, who is very clearly trying to act as if he isn’t listening to every word, but the pain in Tony’s chest is suddenly replaced by a surge of warmth upon realising Bruce’s worry about him. The scientist seems to understand and just squeezes Tony’s hand before turning back to the screen.

Tony pours himself another cup of coffee and grabs a slice of toast as well as two of the chocolate bars before settling into the chair across from the two of them, munching away and watching them work. Seeing them together leaves him with an annoyingly sappy feeling. Bruce, usually rather shy, is much more self-confident around the kid and visibly happy about Peter’s genuine interest in everything scientific. He is also a much more patient teacher than Tony ever manages to be, which seems to be putting Peter at ease. 

After finishing his food, Tony debates moving to his own lab to get some actual work done, but he is so, so tired, and everything kind of hurts. Standing up seems like a lot of effort. So instead, he crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on top of them, closing his eyes for just a moment.

He listens to Peter and Bruce when their conversation shifts from Peter’s project, to May’s new vegan disaster recipe, to the idea of using Peter’s webs in order to create a hammock that can hold the Hulk. Tony smiles into his sleeves, imagining Hulk chilling at the beach between two palm trees, swinging to and fro, to and fro, to and...

“Hey.” Bruce rests his palms lightly on Tony’s shoulder.

He jerks upright. “Wasn’t asleep.”

“What, I would never think that,” Bruce says with a smirk. 

Tony rubs his tired eyes and then his aching forehead. “Where’s Peter?”

“He went to heat up the soup for all of us.”

“Hmm.” Tony grabs Bruce’s hands and presses them against his overly warm cheeks, enjoying the cooling feeling they provide.

“Did you have a nightmare earlier?” Bruce asks, his hand now moving up to cup Tony’s forehead. “You seemed kind of out of it.”

“Yeah,” Tony admits, leaning into the touch. “I don’t remember what it was about, though.”

Bruce hums and presses a light kiss to the top of Tony’s head. “Fever dreams are awful. But at least you didn’t break any furniture upon waking up.”

Tony, sensing the guilt below the light tone, only huffs. “I’d been wanting to get a new bed anyway for a while now. Did you know there are self-making ones now? And levitating mattresses? Or we could go for one of those free-swinging beds, to match Hulk’s upcoming hammock.” 

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. “A normal one would do, Tony. Or we could try something different. Did you know that sleeping on the ground is actually quite good for your back?”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, no. I’m a billionaire, Brucie, we’re not sleeping on the ground because our bed is broken. Levitating one it is.”

Peter comes back with the steaming soup, which does wonders for Tony’s raw throat. At Bruce’s advice, he takes some Advil that muffles his headache a little and remembers the times a few years ago when he would be sick with only JARVIS as his company, feeling a little chilled and very lucky. 

*

In the end, Tony does agree to watching TV, but mostly because Bruce admits to still not feeling up for anything more demanding (which Peter suspects is not entirely true, but he definitely won’t call him out). They let Peter pick, who of course goes for the newest Orville episode, and settle on the huge living room couch with a steaming mug of tea (Bruce), a packet of chocolate (Tony) and another helping of soup (Peter). 

Peter notices after a while that Bruce is gently massaging Tony’s head, playing with his hair. Tony seems to be sort of melting into the touch, his head leaning against Bruce’s shoulder, eyes almost closed. He looks old, but not frighteningly so - more in a serene way that makes Peter want to capture the moment on film. 

In the years he’s known him, Peter has rarely seen Tony anything but buzzing with energy, jumping to and fro between ideas and lab tables. The only person who is able to slow him down and occasionally get him to take a break without having to outright trick him into it seems to be Bruce. And as sorry as Peter is to see both of them sick, it’s also heartwarming to observe how they are taking care of each other. 

Peter knows that most people his age find the idea of spending a lazy movie Saturday with their family kind of boring, but something in him loves the idea of settling down like this. Maybe it’s the fact that it reminds him of how it used to be with Ben and May, or that the time he spends as Spider-Man is already adventurous enough, or the sheer thrill of seeing Iron Man and the Hulk’s alter ego in their pyjamas on the couch, nuzzled up against each other. 

But whatever it is, there’s nowhere else Peter would rather be.

____________________

If you liked this, make sure to check out @twentyghosts‘ beautiful fic Cold, Comfort with a similar setting that inspired me to write this one.

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Common Cold’ square.

[spookblem]

Happy Secret Santa @autumnxsunflower ! I was your secret santa ! I used your wonderful Killua and Gon through the years prompt and came up with this little fic :) I hope you enjoy it! Also I'll post it on ao3 for easier access when I am back at home where my computer is 😅 thank you for the wonderful prompt and thank you

****************

It hadn't been quite six months before Gon and Killua reunited. It seemed to Alluka there was a magnetic force pulling the two boys together. Nanika called her a romantic but couldn't offer another solution. Gon saw Killua first, and even though Killua had relaxed a bit since the siblings had taken off there was no way he wouldn't notice someone staring. Though the moment he saw Gon his shoulders relaxed a little and his face heated faster than Killua would like to admit. The boys both smiled something soft and warm before Gon launched himself at the duo.

"Killua! Alluka! What are you doing here?!" He was practically vibrating with the need to reach out and hug them but something behind his eyes held him back. 

"Hey Gon. We're headed out to a forest Alluka heard about a little while ago. It's supposed to have the biggest Marigolds in the world." Killua smirked, practically oozing adoration. 

"Ask him to come." Killua begged himself.

"Oh wow! That sounds cool!" Gon grinned.

"Ask me to come." Gon telepathically begged Killua. 

"Hey brother can we get lunch with Gon before our ride?" Alluka pulled at Killuas sleeve a bit staring up at him with her biggest puppy eyes. Killua pat her head, how could he say no to her?

"If Gon wants to sure." He looked expectantly up at Gon who was melting at the siblings interaction. How could Gon say no to Alluka's puppy eyes she was giving him, plus he hadn't seem Killua since he left to travel with his dad.

Alluka grabbed Killua's hand pulling him towards a restaurant starting in on what the two would do when the got to the Magnolia forest. As he was pulled away Killua reached and snagged Gon's hand pulling him behind. Gon latched onto Killua drawing Killua's eyes behind him. Gon gave Killua a sweet smile closing tear rimmed eyes. He quickly rubbed the little wet spots as soon as Killua turned away. There was no where he'd rather be than holding hands with Killua.

It seemed like every six months or so Gon and Killua would run into each other. They would exchange stories for a bit before Killua and Alluka would leave and Gon would continue to meander around. It had taken a solid year before Gon realized his dad sending him on solo missions over and over again was just his way of asking Gon to leave. But even after that heartbreak hearing Killua ask him to sit down and eat with them even if it only lasted for a few hours felt like instant relief. Although it took Gon a lot longer than a year to realize Killua was really asking him to stay.

Killua was strolling towards the baggage claim when he was overwhelmed by first someone watching him, then someone shouting his name, and lastly two huge arms crushing his sides and picking him up. Well into his late teens and five eleven Killua was no longer casually picked up or hugged by any of his acquaintances. But one of his friends had no boundaries and would recklessly toss about people like this.

"Gon! What the fuck!"  Killua wiggled out of Gons arms failing to hide a brilliant smile or the fact that his hands rested on the teens shoulders a little too long. Gon released him only to casually grab Killua's hands. 

"Killua! What are you doing here?" Gon motioned to the currently desolate airport. He held on tight to Killua's hands. He had missed the coolness of Killua's skin. Well to be perfectly honest he had missed all of Killua but in moments like these he only remembered the details that he had been craving. The shine in Killua's eyes when he had been up to trouble, the static that clung to his hair and fingertips, and the way Killua chewed his bottom lip when he was trying to hold back words. Gon rubbed his thumb over the back of Killua's hand. Killua flushed a bit on the tips of his cheeks and ears.

"I uh- I actually came here looking for you." He looked at the ground then peered up into Gon's eyes. Gon stilled.

"Really?" Gon choked out. Killua stood a little taller and gave him a soft sort of smirk that Gon swore he could get addicted to.

"Yeah really." Killua pulled him into a hug burying his nose into the soft spot where Gons neck met his shoulders. Gon pulled Killua in practically crushing him. Both on the verge of tears standing in the airport in the middle of the edge of nowhere just holding each other. Promising themselves to never let go.

Leorio and Kurapika were going to owe Alluka so much money. Normally Leorio would have warned her not to gamble but when Killua showed up to the annual Christmas party with Gon a wager had to be placed. Somehow the extra touches, the playful banter followed by soft looks, and when Gon jokingly chased Killua around the apartment holding out the mistletoe Kurapika had set up both boys flushed from more than just the run. Somehow Leorio and Kurapika both had interpreted this to be on a scale of best friends - maybe crush. But they hadn't been there for the past years. They hadn't seen the light touch as they passed walking after dinner, or the one time they had seen Gon only a week later and how even though he claimed it was no big deal Gon had ditched a meeting with his dad to come over and play video games at the siblings hotel room the entire night. And how the next morning Alluka found the two in Killua's bed tangled legs and Killua's head next to Gons heart. Just to make sure he was still there. There had been too much for Alluka to not have laid down a wager when Leorio had bet that in four years the two would date much less when Kurapika had said he thought it would take six years. 

Of course Nanika had always called her a romantic. As did Zushi when she had first started training with Wing-san over a year and a half ago. And well as right as they were it really didn't matter when less then a year after the Christmas party Killua had announced unexpectedly over lunch to the whole group that he and Gon had started dating. As red as the two were Alluka and Nanika thought it was even funnier when they started sputtering and talking over each other when Leorio and Kurapika both handed Alluka a bundle of cash.

Leorio loved Alluka like no one else but when she informed him that she had used the money she had won over five years ago from him and Kurapika to buy her wedding gift he really was tempted to tell Zushi what kind of horrible little devil he was dating. Although the GPS leading to a treasure hunt was really a brilliant gift for Gon and Killua. And really how could anyone be mad with a wedding as beautiful as this? Leorio hummed to himself gazing up to the canopy of leaves covered in pure white butterflies perched on each leaf. Gon had explained to him, when it was Killuas turn to walk down the aisle Gon would give the signal and the butterflies would fly up creating some sort of effect… okay so Leorio couldn't really follow all he really got was it was going to look magnificent and Killua wasn't supposed to know. Leorio turned and looked over his shoulder, behind the last two rows were boxes leaking little clouds of mist. Killua had impatiently explained that he had captured a type of cloud you can walk on and that when Gon walked down the aisle he would release them and you know. Killua had gotten comically redder explaining before he had snapped and said Leorio only need to understand two things; it was going to look beautiful and Gon wasn't supposed to know. Leorio made his way to his seat rolling his eyes at the two. Kurapikas voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"What's so funny?" Leorio startled and reddened. He hadn't expected to see Kurapika here. He looked at his seat assignment. Right seat. He was going to kill those boys.

"Oh nothing just lamenting our loss of cash to a certain Zoldyck." Kurapika laughed. God Leorio could get drunk off that laugh.

"Killua!" Gon kissed his cheek running a hand through white tangles. Hoping to get him up and out of bed.

"Absolutely not. I refuse to get up especially after the thing with the Dragon yesterday. " Killua mumbled into his pillow. Gon frowned a bit pulling back before diving back in and biting his ear gently. 

"Ah! Gon!" Killua waved him off blearily. 

"Please Killua! I'm so bored and I miss you." Gon pouted face in his hands. Killua sighed rolling over to peer through sleepy eyes at his husband. 

"We're literally married and I've been here all night what about you?" Gon rolled his eyes.

"I was here too! But we were sleeping and I miss awake you!" Killua chuckled. He opened his arms inviting Gon to snuggle in. Gon slide into the gap and quickly wrapped his whole self around Killua taking a deep inhale. Killua slowly ran his hand through Gon's hair pulling him into a state of almost sleep. It was Saturday morning and with no commitments Killua was determined to stay in bed all day. What better way to spend your four year anniversary?

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 46

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Canon violence, blood, trauma, feels

A/N: SURPRISE! Remember how I was like there are two more chapters (making this the final one)? Remember how I’m a liar? Yeah. Good times.  There is one chapter after this that will put a bow on this long and winding part one of OFAM. 

I’m deep in my feelings. I hope you all enjoy it. 

And, of course, shout out to @wonderlandmind4​ for being my beta and supporting my bullshit. (God read everything she does it’s wonderful.)

Tags are open!

When Steve offers to drive to the rendezvous with Sharon Carter you aren’t inclined to argue. You’d passed out the night before but it was nowhere near enough. 

In the back of the Beetle, you curl up next to Bucky, not that there was much choice. He tucks you under his arm and the sound of his steady heart paired with the motion of the car lull you back to dreamless sleep. You don’t stir until you hear Steve’s door creak open. 

Bucky shifts a bit next to you, clearly uncomfortable in the cramped space, trying not to jam his knees into Sam’s back as Steve had to him the night before. Glowering a bit at Sam for clearly ignoring his situation. 

He looks in the rearview mirror at Sam, “Can you move your seat up?” His tone measured, clearly trying to sound polite despite his annoyance. 

“No,” Sam says completely deadpan, not even bothering to meet Bucky’s stern gaze in the mirror. 

Silence lingers. Bucky attempts to shift just a little closer to you though there’s nowhere to go. You look between the two men and a laugh bubbles up. You try to contain it but Sam’s expression pushes you over the edge and you cackle, the sound filling the car. 

“You are the smallest person here so I don’t want to hear a thing from you.” His tone is serious but you catch the faintest glimmer of a smile in the mirror. 

Your laughter fades into an uncomfortable grimace as soon as Agent Carter turns her gaze to the three of you. With a tight smile on your lips, you lift your hand in a weak wave.  

“A wave, really?” Sam throws a sideways glance your way. 

“Just trying to be polite.”

“From what I hear you beat her ass yesterday. I think polite is out the window.” Sam gets out to help Steve with the gear. 

“Why’d you attack her?” Bucky asks. 

“She was going for you.” 

“Not like she didn’t have a good reason to.”

“Yeah, well-” you shrug- “I also headbutted the Black Widow so I’m down two for two on my girl power points.” He chuckles pressing a kiss to your temple. 

With the car stuffed with bodies and gear, Steve steers you toward the airport. The closer you get the heavier the silence, each person wrapped in their own fears and concerns. 

In an attempt to calm your racing thoughts you lean your ear back against Bucky’s chest, counting the steady beats. It doesn’t do much but remind you just what you’ll do, what you’ll sacrifice, to protect this heart. 

The moment Steve parks, you feel your stomach flip. Your gaze flits to Bucky’s only to see him looking down at you too. Sam and Steve step out but the two of you linger for a moment, knowing it may be the last time you have alone. 

“We’re gonna get through this. Together,” he says it like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. You try to take a deep breath and nod. 

“We should-” 

“Yeah,” he cuts you off. 

You reach forward to push the driver’s seat up. He pulls you back kissing you deeply. Breathless his lips hover above yours. Your heart skitters, the intensity in his gaze sending chills down your spine. 

Though you both want this moment to stretch, to last forever, you know it can’t. Begrudgingly he pulls back, allowing you enough room to extricate yourself from the cramped quarters. 

As you get out you catch the gaze of someone you recognize from Avenger’s coverage to be Clint Barton. He looks from you to Bucky, eyebrow cocked up in a knowing gaze. Feeling like a kid who’s been caught making out behind the bleachers you quickly turn away, rounding the car to stand beside Bucky as the five of them continue to chat. 

He slides his hand in your’s giving it a squeeze before interrupting, “We should get moving.”

Before anyone can respond a voice crackles over the airport intercom. As the announcer repeats the evacuation notice you glance up at Bucky, the muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Stark,” Sam and Steve echo. 

“You’re not wearing that?” Clint nods to Cap, a smirk on his face. Steve shakes his head and pops open the trunk, stuffed with their contraband gear. 

“Let’s find someplace to get our bearings,” Steve says as he hands Sam his wings. 

You all hunker down in what seems to be a large custodian closet. There’s just enough space for you all but no extra room for modesty, not that it matters much to you. 

Geared up, everyone makes quick introductions, to both each other and who or rather what you’re all facing. The details out of the way Steve begins to layout a plan of attack as best he can, given the limited information available.

“We’ll split,” Steve says. “Bucky, you and Sam head into the terminal. If Stark and the others are here they’ll have the jet. Find it.” Bucky slides you a sidelong glance, drawing you closer, but doesn’t protest. 

“Wanda, you and Clint stick together and be my distance support. Scott, Y/N, you’re with me. They don’t know what either of you can do so the element of surprise will be useful if it comes to that.” 

Steve looks at everyone, every inch the leader, “Ready?” Nods from all, “Let’s make this as quick and clean as possible. No one needs to get hurt.” 

Before you head to follow Steve Bucky pulls you to him suddenly, his kiss fleeting and a touch desperate. His mouth opens as if to say something but he shakes his head. Lifting your hand to his lips he kisses your knuckles. As soon as he releases your hand you turn on your heel and sprint to catch up with Steve, too afraid that if you stop or look back that you’ll lose your nerve. 

From your position behind a storage container, you can clearly hear every word that falls from Tony Stark’s pompous mouth. Somehow each syllable makes you angrier than the last. You know Steve is just stalling but you have to actually hold your tongue between your teeth to keep from telling him to fuck himself.

A voice that sounds far too young to be here hits your ears and you almost peek out. Bigger fish, Y/N, you coach yourself. 

Finally, Sam’s voice comes through the comms, “We found it.” 

“Alright, guys,” Steve says. 

This was your go. The tension in your muscles release, and you spring to the top of the container and over to Steve, your feet never once touching the ground. 

“Who the hell?” The guy you assume is James Rhodes says. His body language showing the surprise you can’t see on his face. 

You couldn’t blame him. Lang, lands by you and Steve, handing him his shield, now back to his normal size in a matter of seconds. It was impressive and a little jarring to even you. 

To her credit, Romanoff doesn’t look the least bit phased. She gives Lang a once over, clearly trying to assess him. When her appraising stare falls to you, you’re a bit surprised to see more admiration than anger in her expression considering your last encounter. 

Stark, however, wastes no time. He heads for Wanda and Clint while Rhodes clocks Bucky and Sam’s position. 

You’re ready to move on Rhodes when King T’Challa growls, “Barnes is mine!” 

“The hell he is!” You wrap your power around his torso as he sprints for the terminal, tugging him back hard, as Steve launches his shield at T’Challa’s back. 

“Cover Rhodes,” Steve says as he pursues T’Challa. 

There isn’t time to argue though you want to. You can better handle someone with air proficiency and Steve is better suited for the ground. Still...

“Got it,” you grudgingly acknowledge turning to face Rhodes as he pulls out an oversized stun baton. Could he have picked a weapon you hated more?

“Look, I don’t know who you are but… I really suggest you stand down,” he says. 

“Thanks for the suggestion,” you say, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. 

Ensnaring the baton in your grasp you pull it from him. Simultaneously you land another invisible blow directly to the middle of his chest that sends him spinning back. The baton comes straight into your waiting palm just before he rights himself. 

“What the hell?!” He exclaims once more as you brandish his own weapon. 

“This thing is hefty-” you give it a once over- “overcompensating?” 

“Real funny,” he quips before shooting straight for you. 

He’s fast, but a big target is easy for you to get a feel of. Thrusting your power before you like a net, he slams into it. The reverberations of the impact thrum through your brain, pain sizzling at the edges of your vision. 

Pushing the discomfort aside you lift yourself from the ground, propelling yourself up and over him by stepping on his helmet. Pulling your power back he tumbles forward, you lasso his ankles, slamming him to the ground as you land behind him. 

The instant he moves to turn you swing the baton with all your force, landing it in his shoulder. Between the impact and the electricity, it manages to short the suit--at least for now. 

You’re going to have to tell Bucky he was right. All those hours of training did pay off. Damn. 

“Uh… can we get some assistance,” Sam’s voice pipes up in the comms. “We’re a little… tied up.”

“Heading your way,” you respond, sprinting toward the terminal. 

You try, you really do, to not laugh when you see them. Despite your best efforts and the absolute shit show of this entire situation you fail. The two of them are stuck to the ground with the same substance that spider kid had shot at Steve. 

“Really boys? You let a 12-year-old get the drop on you?”

Bucky stands, brushing the webbing off his arms. “He may be a kid but he stopped my left hook like it was nothing.” Your brows raise in surprise. “Who the hell would bring a kid into this?” Bucky’s expression is black with rage. 

“Stark,” is all Sam says in response. 

The three of you hustle from the terminal, running full tilt to catch up with the others. You coalesce and for a moment it actually feels like you’re going to make it to the jet, like just maybe this is going to work. That fleeting hope is severed when a beam from somewhere above you blasts a literal line into the tarmac. 

You stumble back a bit into Bucky’s arms. He presses you tight against him as you both look up to see someone straight out of science fiction--Vision, Steve called him. 

Even with the quite literal line drawn you all know there is no turning back now. There is too much at risk if you do. 

Bucky’s arms tighten almost imperceptibly before releasing you, gesturing for you to take Wanda’s side. You do so, the two of you exchanging a meaningful glance. 

“What’d we do Cap?” Sam asks, though his tone says he knows the answer as well as the rest of you. 

“We fight,” Steve replies joylessly. 

Everything that follows happens so fast. 

You and Wanda fall into a fast rhythm, tag-teaming the aerial targets by lobbing projectiles in an attempt to ground them. While your aim is excellent her force far outweighs yours. 

“I’ll hold you land the hit,” you call to her. She nods. You grip the kid mid-swing and she slams a piece of debris into him knocking him down. “Damn you’re good!”

“You’re not too bad either,” she grins. 

Before you turn your focus to Rhodes you glance around to spot Bucky. He’s going hard blow for blow with T’Challa. 

Wanda and you exchange a glance. She nods and you split. 

Running at a dead sprint you try to catch T’Challa’s next blow before it finds it’s target, but you’re too slow. He lands a kick that sends Bucky careening into a stack of crates with a sickening crack. 

T’Challa stalks forward, blocking your view of Bucky’s collapsed body, with claws out. There is no time to consider if Bucky is even conscious. He’ll kill him, is the only thought you have. 

Sending your power out to T’Challa, you’re surprised to only find purchase on the surface, unable to sink under his suit to do any internal harm. It doesn’t matter though. 

Mustering a level of force that sends shivers through your body you hurl him away from Bucky. T’Challa rights himself in the air landing gracefully, claws sparking against the concrete, as you place yourself between Bucky’s unconscious form and him. 

“You,” he growls. The word barely hits your ear before he charges. 

His attacks are painfully quick with a fluidity you’ve never encountered. Even Bucky wasn’t this good. He lands several blows but your power reacts instinctively, cushioning them enough that you aren’t brought down. Soon you are able to hone in on his rhythm, managing several good moments of contact yourself. 

“This isn’t about you!” 

“It is if it’s about him,” you spit back. 

He roars in frustration, his leg swinging to kick your feet from under you. It’s the slightest bit less refined than his other moves, nowhere near sloppy but it’s enough that you’re able to clock it quickly. You kick away from the ground, landing behind him. 

This gives you the advantage you need. You manage a well-placed blow to the backs of his knees and he falls forward. Winding your power around his middle you squeeze tight enough to hear a small gasp and force him away. 

You only glance behind you for a breath, just wanting to see if Bucky was ok. The relief from seeing him get to his feet doesn’t have the chance to sink in. Turning back all to the fight before you all you register is a block blur before searing pain tears through your chest. 

“Y/N!” Bucky screams. 

But you don’t make a sound. Your eyes are fixed on the splashes of red spattering the concrete as you hit your knees, still not registering that it’s yours despite the pain. A shaking hand rises to your chest, coming away covered in blood from four deep gouges.  

A feral sound draws your eyes up to see Bucky attacking T’Challa with a ferocity you’ve never seen. Still, he holds Bucky back until you see a red cloud grab hold of him, throwing him away. 

“Doll!” Bucky calls out, running to your side. He grabs your shoulders, jostling the wounds on your chest. 

Now you scream. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. 

“I’ve got her,” Wanda’s voice from behind you. It’s strange to be moved like this by a force that’s not your own. Wanda’s power—red, warm, tingling like static—gently moves you, resting your back against the crates Bucky had been thrown against a moment before. 

“Y/N’s down,” Bucky says in a tight voice. 

“I’m ok,” you say through clenched teeth. “Go.” Wanda gives you one last look before listening. Unsurprisingly Bucky doesn’t budge. “Bucky-”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, unable to take his eyes from the wounds in your chest.

His hands hover awkwardly over you, unsure where to touch you to avoid causing more pain. He settles on resting a tentative hand on your thigh. When he finally looks you in the face his expression is something you’ve never seen—a terrifying combination of utter fear and abject rage. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes as he crouches next to you both. 

“’ Tis but a scratch,” you say attempting to sit up straighter. Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Seriously, I’m going to be fine.” And you suspected you weren’t lying, the blood had already slowed some even if it hurt like hell. 

“How’re we gonna get her to the jet?” Steve asks. You’re a little touched by the deep concern in his tone. 

“We aren’t,” Sam says over the comms. 

“What?!” Bucky bellows so loud you flinch. 

“There’s no way all of us are getting out of here,” Sam responds. 

“As much as I hate to admit that Wilson’s right-”

“He is right,” you cut off the rest of Clint’s words covering Bucky’s hand with yours. “You two have to go.”

“No,” his voice shakes. 

“We’ve got her back,” Sam reassures. 

“Absolutely,” Clint says backing him. 

“Don’t ask me to do this,” Bucky choaks out. 

With a shaking blood-stained hand, you push a strand of hair from his eyes. “This is bigger than us.” 

“Dammit,” he says through clenched teeth. “Fine. Ok.” 

“Alright, Lang,” Steve confers over the comms, having been laying out a plan while you convinced Bucky. “On your mark.” 

“Help me up,” you ask Bucky.

“You really should-”

“I’d rather be on my feet.” Begrudgingly, he helps you stand on shaky legs. 

Leaning into Bucky for support, you watch in wonder as Lang becomes the size of a jet. An awestruck laugh bubbles up before you can stop it, moving the muscles in your chest causing you to hiss in pain. 

“Y/N?” Bucky asks, tone frantic. You pat his chest reassuringly. 

“Guess that’s the signal,” Steve throws a look at you both. 

Bucky’s eyes are desperate, still, you say, “Go.”

He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before pulling back. “I love you.” 

“I love all of you.”

“Remember your promise.” It’s not a question. 

You nod, “Don’t make me keep it and I won’t make you.” 

“Deal,” he says with a sad smile. 

“We gotta go,” Steve says. 

Bucky backs away from you slowly before turning to run. The wounds in your chest nothing compared to the hurt of watching him go. 

Your fight isn’t done. Cradling your left arm across your chest, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure on the wound you start to make your way forward.

“Nope,” Clint drops down in front of you. “Sit your ass down.” 

“I-” He cuts you off with a look and you lean against the crates until he’s satisfied. It only lasts until you see the blast from Vision sending debris tumbling to block Bucky and Steve’s entry to the jet. 

You hardly breathe as you run, pain searing through your chest, clouding your vision. Wanda catches everything giving them enough space to get through before Rhodes hits her with something sending her to her knees. 

Anger swells within you, momentarily taking place of the pain. You heave Rhodes away from Wanda before collapsing yourself. Clint rushes to your side, holding you up. 

“What did I say?” 

“I’m a bad listener.” 

“Clearly.” He positions himself behind you so you’re able to lean into him. 

The jet bursts from the hanger and you feel yourself relax. They can do this, they can fix this. Steve will bring him back. 

“What now?” You ask Clint.

“We wait.” 

-

None of you fight back when military police descend on the airstrip knowing this is what you signed up for by staying. Medical whisks Rhodes away and sees to the kid in the spider suit while you sit on the tarmac bleeding, breathing through the pain. 

“Anyone, gonna get to her?!” Sam berates the officers. 

“It’s fine Sam.”

“It’s not. You’ve lost a lot of blood, Y/N.” He looks around, “Hey! Come on!” 

“That’s enough,” one of them remarks before grabbing Sam’s arms and forcefully cuffing them behind his back. 

Hands come from behind you as well, grabbing your forearms and wrenching your arms behind you. You can’t hold in the scream as the motion pulls the gashes across your chest open wide, fresh blood seeping into your ruined shirt. 

A chorus of anger rises from your ragtag team, though the words are lost in the onslaught of pain. That is until someone kneels in front of you, pressing a clean towel to your chest. 

“Thank… you,” you manage, trying to gulp in air. 

“You’re welcome,” a woman’s voice says. “Maybe don’t head butt me this time.” You look up to see Romanoff. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Your eyes squeeze shut as your body sways from blood loss. 

She steadies you, pressing the towel tighter against your chest. “What is Barnes to you that he’s worth this.”

You look up into her vivid green eyes, mind clear suddenly. “Everything.”

She stares for a moment to see if there’s more before her brows raise. “Oh… Oh.” Natasha looks back as a jet lands, a few official-looking men stepping off. 

“Can we get medical over here? She needs to be seen to,” Natasha says as they approach. 

“She’ll be seen on the jet,” an older gentleman says in a grave tone. 

“Secretary Ross,” Natasha places herself between you and the man. 

“This the only injury on this side?”

“Side? This isn’t a war, Secretary.” 

“Isn’t it?” He steps around her, looking down at you. You unflinchingly meet his gaze. 

“Secretary, with all due respect, this woman needs-”

“Wilson, I suggest you shut your mouth unless you intend to tell me where Barnes and Rogers are heading.” The Secretary gives everyone a once over, “Load them up.” 

Everyone but you is locked into their seat on the jet. As you climb in altitude your head swims and you fold forward. 

“Sit back,” Clint says gently. “You want to keep your heart elevated.”

You force yourself back, head thudding painfully into the metal of the chair behind you. 

Secretary Ross enters, a med-tech behind him pushing a cart. He stands stoically, looking down at every person in the room. The tech approaches you, irrigation bottle in hand. 

“Come on,” Sam grumbles. “Can’t you at least see her in a med bay?”

“She’s lucky she’s being seen at all,” Ross says in a chilling tone. 

He watches as the tech soaks the towel, removing it from your chest, despite the ache you refuse to make a noise. You’d had enough interactions with men like this Ross character to know that you never show them an ounce of fear or weakness. 

The tech studies your wounds for a moment hands working swiftly to attach a blood pressure monitor to your wrist. He looks at the reading, brows creasing in disapproval.  

“Blood type?” He asks. 

“AB.” He takes a note before turning a more focused gaze to the gashes. 

“We’re going to have to cut the shirt off, likely fibers in the wound.” He turns to the cart and shuffles around, when he turns back there’s a needle in his hand. The blood pressure monitor on your wrist begins to beep as your heart ticks up, the increased blood flow making your chest throb. 

“What is that?” You ask, hating the way your voice trembles slightly. Flashes of countless needles being forced into your veins fill your mind. 

“Morphine.” He reaches for your arm and you pull back as far into the chair as possible. 

“No.”

“Ma’am,” he sighs out clearly annoyed. “You’re gonna need sutures-”

“I don’t need drugs. I’ll be-”

“I don’t think you understand how much this is going to-”

“I’ve had worse,” you say matter of factly. 

“Give her the damn sedative,” Ross demands. 

“She said no,” Wanda says. Ross turns an indignant gaze her way. 

The tech moves to try and administer it again but you latch your power onto the syringe in his hand, crushing it. He stares, confused and a little scared at the liquid dripping down his arm. 

“Maximoff,” Ross starts but then pauses. Slowly he turns back to look at the shattered remains, seeming to realize that Wanda’s signature red glow didn’t accompany that action. 

His cold stare lands on you. “Just get her cleaned up Aarons.” 

“Yessir.”

Ross storms off, pausing at the exit, “I will deal with all of you on the Raft.” 

Aarons pulls two small folding stools from the cart and guides you into one with surprising gentleness. With your back facing the others he cuts open your shirt. You hear him let out a puff of breath as he sees the scars there. 

You have to hand it to him, Aarons works quickly, truly trying to not cause more discomfort than necessary. His eyes search yours on occasion, especially in moments he expects you to grimace or show pain. 

He finishes bandaging you up and guides you back to the chair. “Sorry,” he says, motioning for you to place your arms in a position to be manacled. You say nothing, simply do as you’re told. 

“You’ll need a transfusion. I’ll try to get to that before we land.”

“Thanks,” you say. He nods and leaves. 

They do not get to it. Not that it matters much. You know your body will heal, whatever Hydra had filled you with would ensure that. Your heart though… 

Already the distance and uncertainty weigh heavily. Every few minutes you have to talk yourself down, silently coaching yourself that he will be ok, he must be ok. They will succeed. But if they didn’t… Well, your broken heart would be the least of the world’s concerns then. 

As soon as they land on The Raft you’re shuffled out with the rest. Until now you didn’t understand what The Raft was—a prison, a floating prison for the worst the world had to offer. When you’d agreed that some of you would have to hold back you’d assumed they’d put you all somewhere but never this. 

They march you all down a long corridor, opening into a large space where several other corridors branch off. Everyone else is led to the right while they jostle you to the left. Terror makes alarms sound in your mind but your expression stays impassive.

“Where are you taking her?!” Sam calls out. “Hey, wait!” There’s a thud, you look back to see Sam doubled over, his eyes look up and meet your own. You shake your head no as they lead you away. 

He means well, but you have a feeling he’s never been a prisoner before. You on the other hand… you were a seasoned pro—captivity almost felt like an old, unwelcome, friend. The key was to give them nothing. Not fear, not anger, not even respect. The key was to become… nothing. 

Comply. 

Survive. 

You’re left in a cold room, cuffed to a metal chair--still with nothing more covering your torso than bandages and a blood-stained sports bra--for an indiscriminate amount of time. 

You don’t move, barely flick your eyes around the space, just stare forward. Because you don’t need to move to know your surroundings. 

Sending your power out you find the small pinhole cameras embedded in the metal walls, you feel just beyond those walls other rooms. You push it a bit further, into the corridor, to get a feel for the activity happening around you, and keep your focus there so you will know when someone is entering.

Is it muscle memory that keeps you stiff, upright, expression impassive? You’re bone-tired and should be fighting sleep in this quiet space, body demanding shut down. But no. You’re alert, ready at any moment for anything.

You aren’t startled when the door behind you opens, don’t even turn to look back. It’s not until Ross sits in a chair across the metal table from you that you realize you’d been bracing your body for a blow or the crackling feeling of a shock baton. 

He doesn’t say anything, studying you with a cold appraising glare. After a time he nods to unseen eyes and images fill the wall behind him. 

At first these photos of a woman going about mundane daily tasks—waiting for a train her hair in a messy bun, head thrown back in a laugh with friends around her, standing on a street corner impossibly balancing bags of food and four drinks, sitting on a bench looking out at the water—mean nothing to you. Just still life images. 

Clarity careens into you like a freight train. It takes effort to keep your impassive mask in place as you stare. That woman… that was you. 

How did you not immediately see yourself? How could you not see Nix, a portion of his Cheshire-like grin captured on the edge of one image? How did you not recognize the bright pink of Marcus’ hair in another? How?

Suddenly they’re gone. You want to beg them to bring them back, let you see just the smallest glimpses of the people you lost, the person you were. But you don’t. You sit, like a statue, as a video begins to play. 

A woman with long thick curls hanging around her face stares down an unseen person with a look that could strip paint— That’s me, you remind yourself. The audio is a bit crackly but you can make out the sound of your own voice well enough.

“I suggest you back off, mother fucker,” this past you growls. 

The camera becomes a blur, the sounds of scuffling and fabric obscuring a mic are all that can be heard for a time until—

A loud thud and a groan ring clear, the image clears revealing you staring down at your hands and back at the man. You look horrified and confused, a bit of blood trickling from a busted lip. 

Memory cracks through you like lightning. This was only a few weeks before they took a wrecking ball to your entire life. You’d run home and Nix had been furious that you refused to go to the cops until you told him what you did, how your ability lashed out. There was no more arguing after that, he understood the necessity of this secret. 

Nix helped you get cleaned up, ordered pizza, and braided your hair while you both watched old movies into the wee hours. You could almost feel his sure fingers finding their way through your curls, weaving them together in tight plaits.

Ross’ voice pulls you back from the void of loss threatening to engulf you, “When Ms. Romanoff released Hydra’s files to the public we took special interest in cases like yours. Of course, we assumed that you’d been put down… Reaper.” 

That fucking name. The code Hydra gave you. You hate that you flinch just a bit from it. Hate the burn of bile in your throat. 

“Or do you prefer Sara Madison?” The name you’d taken at 16 when you started a new life. “Or is it Y/N Y/L/N?” The name you’d been born with. New images flash onto the wall behind him. These faces you recognize instantly. 

“I’m sure they’d all say, Reaper, is far more appropriate.” 

It takes everything to fight the nausea, to keep the tremors at bay. Don’t give him the satisfaction, you tell yourself. 

“Nineteen confirmed kills. Given your methods, I don’t doubt there are more.” He opens a folder and lays out several more faces you know. “Heart attack, brain aneurysm, stroke—nothing suspicious about natural death.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “It’s a masterclass, truly.”

Such a good attack dog, that Hydra bastard’s voice rings in your head. 

“All of this is enough for us to try you on everything from first-degree murder to treason. I can assure you that it will not end well for you.” He moves his hands into his lap, “But, we’d be willing to reconsider legal action if you’d simply tell us where Barnes and Rogers are.” 

You almost laugh. Instead, you just raise a brow, continuing to stare straight at him. The quick flash of anger in Ross’ eyes fills you with satisfaction. 

He takes a deep breath, his own composure falling back in place, and stands, circling behind you. A heavy hand lands on your left shoulder, fingers reaching around to the tops of the freshly stitched wounds there. Slowly but steadily he applies pressure to them, pain exploding. You grind your teeth, fighting the scream. 

“I should also inform you,” Ross growls into your ear, “that for all rights and purposes you don’t exist. A trial would be a formality.” His grip tightens suddenly and you can’t hold back the hiss of pain.

“Personally,” his other hand grabs your hair, forcing your head back to look up at him, “I would rather not waste taxpayer dollars on trying things like you and Barnes. If you push me, I’m sure I can find creative ways to extract the information we need.” 

You can’t fully place why your face fills with a smirk or why it grows into a full smile. Maybe you’re delirious with pain and exhaustion because the smile breaks out into a belly laugh. It hurts your chest but you can’t stop. Ross’ backhand cracking across your face doesn’t even stop it. Peals of laughter pour from you. 

“Lock her up,” he barks to someone behind you. 

Rough hands grab you, dragging you from the room. You’re still smirking when they unceremoniously toss you into a cell. 

Stumbling forward you barely catch yourself before crashing into the wall. You rest your forehead against the cool metal until your knees refuse to hold you any longer. Turning you lean against the wall and slide down it. 

Across from your cell you can just see the edge of Wanda’s. She’s staring into your cell intently, arms bound in a goddamn straight jacket. Anger flairs in you—she couldn’t be more than 20 for fuck’s sake. 

She gestures to her chest with her chin then nods at you. Glancing down you notice that blood has soaked through the bandages there. You give her a weak smile and a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes and a true smile lifts the corners of your mouth. 

Muffled sounds outside the cell wake you. Honestly, you hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep on the hard floor. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to focus in on what they’re seeing—Wanda fighting back against guards trying to take her somewhere. She can’t use her ability without her hands you realize. Still, she kicks and thrashes, anything to slow them. 

You stand legs wobbling a bit, and approach the glass and metal door to your cell, letting your anger rise with each step. Taking as deep a breath as you can manage you push a wave of your power out. Unfortunately, it catches Wanda’s footing too but it’s enough to get their attention. 

Startled eyes slide around the room, unsure of where to focus their anger. One of the men stand and you immediately throw him back. Another does the same and you toss him aside, truly surprised at the amount of force you’re able to muster. 

This continues on for a minute before a flurry of new guards, led by Ross, pour into the cellblock. 

“What the hell is-” You grab Ross before he can finish and slam him against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He stares at you, hatred dripping from him. 

“Leave her alone. She doesn’t know shit.” 

Ross clears his throat, “You ready to talk?”

You shrug, “Thought you wanted to get creative.” Ross nods at you and they open your cell, dragging you out.

“No!” Wanda yells as they push her back into her cell. 

“It’s ok,” you tell her over your shoulder. 

While you didn’t doubt that the US Government could be very imaginative you did doubt they were true masters like Hydra. And if they were…you could take it, you already had before. All you needed to do was keep Ross distracted enough that he stayed off of Wanda and the others. 

It was the least you owed them.

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[karmaistheguyonthe1975]

Yeah? Yeah.

Heyyyyyyy this is my gift for @coniello​, who I got in the @sincerely-us​ gift exchange! Sorry I’m posting this so late in the day. The prompt was Evan and Jared going on a road trip, but they’re in a fight so they kinda have to bond again. It was fun to write! 

This weekend was going to be... less than ideal, to say the very least. It was supposed to be fun, according to both Evan and Jared’s mothers, and according to the two boys themselves up until a few months ago.

A trip to a waterpark, the same one where they had shared their sixth birthday party, that had been planned for a year. But now, due to f**k-ups on both their parts, they had barely spoken a word to each other in over two months. A small fight over what movie to watch had turned into a shouting match that brought up every disagreement they had had for the past five years.

Of course, they could hardly tell that to their mothers. So there they were, stuck next to each other in a car for two and a half hours and facing two nights in a hotel room together. On top of that, they couldn’t ignore each other. They had to act as if they were still best friends. G r e a t.

The air between them was thick, and you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Both boys were desperate for some opportunity to relieve it, but unsure of how to.

‘I’m sorry,’ Evan typed into his notes, drafting a message that was likely never going to be sent. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything that I did, and I shouldn’t have accused you of lying about your camp friends. I’m sorry I’ve been forcing my presence on you throughout high school, I know you really don’t want to hang out with me, which is understandable. So yeah... I’m sorry.’

He copy-pasted it into his messages with Jared, staring at the send button and running through every situation he could think of if he sent it and if he didn’t.

Then something popped up on the screen: a meme. From Jared.

Evan deleted his message, instead sending a simple ‘Was that supposed to go to me?’

‘yes?’ Jared replied. ‘who else would it have gone to’

‘Oh... Aren’t you mad still?’

‘arent u?’

Evan glanced over at him, a confused look on his face. ‘No? I’m the one who messed up.’ He heard Jared snort a little.

‘havent changed at all i see. u arent the only one who messed up’

‘Jared, I accused you of lying about your camp friends purely because I was jealous of them.’

‘just shut up we both did a Big No accept it’

Evan laughed out loud. ‘I’m just... still sorry.’

‘well stop. like now’

Evan looked over and smiled at him. ‘Fine.’

Jared smirked back, but there was no trace of malice in it. ‘loser,’ he replied.

The rest of the three-hour drive was filled with memes, small-talk, and laughing, and, although it was slightly awkward, neither boy had been happier in a while.

“Okay, boys,” Heidi sighed once they were at the doors of the hotel rooms, trying to support the weight of her packed bags. “Make sure you don’t go to bed too late and meet us in the lobby for breakfast at...” She looked around, waiting for someone else to suggest a time.

“Nine?” Mrs. Kleinman offered.

“Yes, nine,” Heidi confirmed. “That sound good?”

“Yeah,” Evan replied. “Thanks, Mom.” Jared just finger-gunned.

“See you in the morning,” Ms. Kleinman said, opening the door of the room that she and Heidi were sharing.

“See ya!” Jared called, swinging into his own room and pulling Evan in by the elbow.

Evan leaned against the door uncomfortably, biting his lip and looking anywhere other than Jared’s eyes. The car was much easier than this. He could easily avoid eye-contact in the car, only having to look ahead, or out the window. “So...” he tried. “How are you?” Mentally, he scolded himself. God, that was such a stupid question. “I mean like how have you been? Because obviously we’ve been talking for a while and I know... s**t sorry, I’m bad at this.”

Jared laughed and threw himself into the crappy hotel room couch. “Evan, chill out,” he said. “Like seriously.”

“Right,” Evan mumbled. “Sorry- I mean, um...”

“I get it,” Jared interrupted, holding out his hand. “Do you like... want to put your s**t down and sit? You’re allowed to do that.”

Evan looked down and realized he was indeed still holding his bags, suddenly becoming aware of the ache in his arms. “Oh, right.” He placed his bags in a neat pile by the beds, a contrast to the haphazardly stacked ones that Jared had merely tossed onto the bed he’d claimed as his own. He still didn’t sit, though, even when Jared gestured questioningly at the couch.

“Made a college decision yet?” Jared asked. “You didn’t know, last we talked.”

Evan nodded. “I’m gonna take a year to save up, then I’m probably going to do some kind of biology, maybe. Staying close to home, though. You were gonna go... somewhere in Montana, right?”

“Montana State,” Jared agreed. “Computer science. I got a s**t-ton of scholarships, too.” Although you wouldn’t guess it upon first, second, or third impressions of him, Jared was freakishly smart, maintaining a 4.0 in high school despite sleeping through class 50% of the time and regularly skipping.

Evan smiled. “That’s- I’m really happy for you, that’s really great.”

“It’s school,” Jared grumbled. “I don’t know why I’m paying to go. I should be paid to go.”

As Jared complained, his face shifted into a childish frown. The expression reminded Evan of when they were in middle school, including some, ahem, certain feelings that tended to pop up when a hormonal and bisexual 8th grader had a smart, funny... kind of cute-

Oh, S**T! Evan thought. Those feelings we’re supposed to have been kicked to curb years ago. But apparently not.

“Ev,” Jared called, snapping his fingers. “Earth to acorn.”

Evan looked at him (well, more like started paying attention to him. He had been staring after all). “Yeah? Sorry, I, um... I zoned out. Sorry.”

“You were staring at me,” Jared informed bluntly. “I mean, who could blame you, I am gorgeous, but-”

“No I wasn’t!” Evan lied.

“You were.”

“No!”

“Fine then, keep your crush repressed,” Jared teased, both projecting onto Evan and being characteristically oblivious.

Evan turned pink. “I...”

Jared cracked up. “You’re such a dork!” he wheezed.

“I am not!” Evan protested. “You’re the dork.”

In response, Jared held up a finger as he dug through his pockets, finally pulling out a crumpled yellow card. “Uno reverse card,” he smirked.

“You-” Evan said. “You just keep that in your pocket?!”

“Yep,” Jared replied, popping the p.

Finally, Evan sat on the couch, although he remained tense. “I like hanging out with you,” he mumbled, having a momentary burst of courage that left him with immense amounts of regret. “Oh my God, that was so weird, I’m sorry! I just meant like, you know-”

“Evan,” Jared said, trying to stop the word vomit.

“Because we fought and we have talked in months I just missed you, you know? And I-”

“Evan!” Jared repeated, louder, which successfully silenced him. “I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I missed you too. I shouldn’t have been such an a*shole during high school.”

Evan smiled weakly. “It’s okay.”

Jared smiled back. “Star Wars?” he asked.

“Oh God,” Evan laughed. “We haven’t watched those since we hung out every weekend in 8th grade.”

“You haven’t,” Jared corrected. “I’m not a heathen, I still watch them regularly.”

“Whatever. Let’s do it.”

One movie later, they had assumed a position in which Jared’s head was resting on Evan’s shoulder and their hands were touching in an effort to make the computer stay steady. Jared stretched a little and looked up at Evan, who had a slight glow surrounding his head from the lights shining through his blond hair. Would it be gay to kiss him? Jared asked himself. YES IT WOULD BE GAY, IDIOT!

Holy s**t, he was actually considering this. He had never been known for being open with his feelings, opting instead for sudden outbursts and passive-aggressive remarks. But lately, he had been doing better. He wasn’t as mean, at least, and slightly less scared of feelings. “Evan...?” he said finally, an audible shake in his voice.

“Yeah?” Evan asked, staring at the space between Jared’s eyes, which was the closest he could comfortably get to eye-contact.

Jared’s hands began to shake slightly, never a good sign. “Can I... s**t...”

Evan moved so he was entirely sat up, taking hold of Jared’s forearm to calm him down. “Jared,” he murmured. “Breathe.” Panic attacks, and the preceding moments, were something that Evan had more experience with than he would care to admit. But in situations like this is was undeniably helpful to know how to deal.

Jared frantically searched Evan’s face for a sign of... something. His eyes moved like those of a caged animal, darting back and forth, even though his body was frozen. Finally, possessed by some other force, he pressed his lips up against Evan’s, staying stiffly there for a moment before realizing what he had done and pulling away.

Evan stared blankly at him for a moment, entirely dumbfounded, before leaning down to repeat it. Jared kissed back momentarily, but pulled away and looked down after a minute.

“Sorry,” Evan muttered. “I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean to... crap, I messed this all up, didn’t I?”

Jared distanced himself from Evan, giving him a few inches of space. After a few moments of silence, he spoke quietly. “Was that okay?”

“Was it okay with you?” Evan responded, his usual stutter gone and replaced by a shaky, quiet tone.

“If it was with you... yeah.”

“It was,” Evan replied hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jared looked over at him, biting his lip to refrain from a hopeful smile. He placed his hand half of the distance between them, letting Evan decide whether or not to take it.

Evan moved his hand to cover Jared’s. “Yeah?” he asked, repeating Jared’s question.

“Yeah,” Jared echoed.

And there they sat, comfortably silent, the same thought running through both their heads.

Maybe this trip won’t be so bad.