#And what I hate most its the constant 'hey you have this in the fridge eat it.'

[pupuseriazag]

Nothing like organizing my foods and saving my coke for a day where I dont have snything else to drink but when I go search for it my dad drank it in secret

[reidmania]

KISS IT BETTER !

miguel o’hara

PLEASE READ AN, ITS VERY IMPORTANT TO THIS STORY

summary: reader has never been good at talking about emotions, always dealing with the guilt and feeling as if a burden so it often leads to pushing people away… but miguel wants to know.

warnings: mentions of mental health, mentions of depression and depressive episodes, pushing away, self sabotage etc

I HATE the end of this, it was so rushed im so sorry

an/ i want to start a series where i write different characters comforting readers or characters with certain mental illnesses because i know a lot of people don’t get that sort of comfort and recognition and i know theres a lot that isn’t talked about and i really want to bring awareness to it. this touches on a few topics but im happy to write individual works, and they can be about any character.

this

PLEASE if there is anything you want to see written about in this series send me a message and tell me whatever it is, and any certain details you want included. it would be so so deeply appreciated.

the kiss was soft, so soft you wouldn’t have felt it if you weren’t already half awake, despite your eyes being closed. you knew it was miguel, leaving for work.

you could feel the way he lingered in the door way after whispering that he loved you. you could almost sense the worry in his posture, not even having to look at him.

you stay still, eyes closed. it was early, you had no reason to be awake, yet you were. you waited until you heard the front door close to open your eyes and stir in your position on the bed.

you missed miguel, you were asleep when he got home, from late hours, and you were asleep when he left in the morning. you no longer visited him at the HQ like you use to, purely just not having the energy to even leave the bed most days.

it seemed as if every moment, that should shine in golden colours, had been replaced by grey. the days blended together, you couldn’t remember what day it was or what time it was.

you held it well though, the house was always cleaned by the time miguel got home, his food was ready in the fridge, for when he got home. he had no idea about the constant overwhelming fear of day to day life.

you wanted to tell him, but he was dealing with so much as it was, and the last thing you wanted to do was put more pressure on him then necessary. you grew up in a house hold where talking and showing your feelings was seen as weak, and it had just stuck with you.

it wasn’t that you didn’t trust miguel, you did, more then anything. but you didn’t think it was important, of course you had gone through things like this before, you could get through it.

the day went on, eventually you got out of bed, showering, no matter how shit you felt, you’d shower, if it was just you there, you probably wouldn’t but there was that fear that if miguel saw how bad you were effected by this, he would leave.

the house didn’t need to be cleaned, miguel had cleaned his dish when he finished eating. it was late noon, miguel wouldn’t be home till later, but you preferred ered to cook earlier so you could go back to bed and wallow in self deprecation.

halfway through cooking, just basic spaghetti bolognaise, you heard keys, the front door. you furrow your eyebrows, wondering who it could be since miguel wasn’t supposed to be home till later.

until you heard his voice.

“amor, i got off early” he yelled out, you squeeze your eyes shut, as he yells out your name, eventually finding you in the kitchen, body turned to face the stove where you were making the meat.

“baby- it’s early. why are you cooking so early” he asked, walking up to stand next to you. you just shrug, not saying anything. your mind now linking with your stomach, a bubble of anxiety filling it.

“hey- talk to me” miguel said, grabbing your wrist to stop you from mixing, which was just an excuse to avoid the conversation- he knew you.

“wanted to get it done so i could finish cleaning” you mutter, miguel looks around at the already spotless house. “baby- its clean already”

you just shrug, still not looking at him. he turns the stove off. “miguel” you sigh. you were burnt out, completely burnt out, tired of everything lately, waking up, everything being so repetitive.

“talk to me” he says, his tone wasn’t quite begging yet, but wasn’t demanding either. “what am i meant to talk to you about” you run a hand through your hair as you walk away from the stove, leaning against the counter.

“whats going on with you” he says, tilting his head softly, you squint your eyes. “nothing, miguel” you say.

“obviously it’s something, its like i haven’t see you awake in days, you don’t come to the hq, the house has been spotless lately, which is a massive indication of something being up since you only clean when you’re stressed, just talk to me”

you feel anger, but you aren’t angry, youre so insanely tired and drained that everything is just pissing you off. “can you just drop it, oh my gosh” you say, leaning off of the counter to walk away, miguel only follows.

“i just want to help you, baby.”

you audibly groan. “god!! miguel you’re a superhero, you help people who are being attacked or are in danger!”

“i think you are in danger” he says softly. you scoff, miguel doesn’t take it to heart. he knows something is up, and he knows its bad. you aren’t one to yell or get angry like this.

you cant really explain how your feeling besides wanting to smash your head into a brick wall.

“miguel, can you just leave it alone!”

you walk away this time, miguel doesn’t follow. he runs a hand through his hair, beating himself up on the way he approached the situation.

you sigh as you walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind you, you slide down against it, pulling your knees to your chest, guilt eating you alive at how you reacted.

you hated how your hurt always came out in anger, it was like you had no control over it. this is why you just deal with it alone.

you don’t realise you’re crying until you open your mouth to take a shakey breath, the taste of salt filling your mouth from your tears. you know miguel deserves an explanation, he deserves better.

you want to be better, but you have never been close to anybody like you are with miguel.

its insanely scary, the fear he will leave if he finds out how truely fucked you are.

you didn’t know how to cope with having people close to you, and having people who genuinely care, it had always been a challenge to open to.

you run your hands over your face as you hear a soft knock on the door, “princessa.” miguel says softly, probably the softest you’ve ever heard him talk.

you stay silent on the other side. “you don’t have to talk to me about it, and im sorry i pushed, i just care” miguel said, you could tell he had his head against the door, because of how close his voice was.

“just come out” he says softly. you pause for a moment as you hear the slight crack in his voice, you were shocked that he hadn’t already left, your outburst was embarrassing and you shouldn’t have taken it out on him like that.

you shuffle, miguel hears it, then he hears the click of the lock, he steps back as you open the door.

“im sorry”

“im sorry”

you smile softly as you and miguel talk at the same time, “i am sorry, i shouldn’t take my feelings out on you.” you say softly.

he shakes his head, opening his arms, you shuffle towards him, letting his arms wrap around you tightly. “just want to make sure you’re okay, baby”

you frown, “im sorry-“

“i know baby, ive noticed” he cuts you off, he could sense you didn’t want to talk about everything that was going on, but he wanted you to know he was there.

“im going to have tomorrow off, an us day. lets lay in bed and cuddle all day, do whatever you need to do,” he says.

you look up at him.

“thank you”

“course, cuddles and kisses can almost fix anything” miguel says softly, kissing your forehead.

“not dead, kisses wont fix dead” you say, smiling up at him from his arms.

“yeah, but you aren’t dead, so i can kiss you till youre all better”

[lucy90712]

cravings/mood swings (pregnancy series)

Series masterlist

George:

The hormones from pregnancy have made me an entirely different person at times which was a huge shock to both me and George when they first started to hit because I've always been pretty good with my emotions and hormones even when on my period. To me it isn't as bad because I only notice after my mood swings but poor George has to deal with me during.

George came down the stairs after filming a video and came to join me sat on the sofa. I was eating salty crisps (chips) some of which George stole as he sat down, this really set off my hormones for whatever reason and I looked at him with just pure anger that he would even dare to steal my food that I had been craving.

"George what the fuck I wanted those" I almost shouted

"I'm sorry love I didn't mean to I can get you more if you want them" he said panicked slightly

I gave no reaction to what George said as I came down from my rage because I realised I was being way too over the top. I always feel awful when I yell at George because he doesn't deserve it at all but he just happens to be around all the time so he's the one who bares the brunt of all my emotions. I apologised to George and gave him some of my crisps to make up for it and we cuddled on the sofa for a bit.

Later in the evening George was showing me cute videos he has of cat from when he was in his office which were just so adorable and made me so incredibly happy but then the sadness came over and tears started to fall down my face.

"Hey what's wrong?" George asked

"It's just so cute like how can one small animal be so cute" I sobbed

He comforted me and we spent the rest of the evening doing things that didn't provoke any emotions in me.

Dream:

My cravings have been very strong though my pregnancy so far which is a combination of normal things and weird concoctions just whatever I was feeling in that exact moment and I mean that exact moment. My cravings are things that have to be satisfied within the hour or else it's too late and I get over it.

It's about 10pm and I'm just chilling waiting for Clay to get out the shower so we can watch the office together. At that exact moment a craving for pickles came over me, its not a craving I've had before but its one that I know is kind of common. I checked all the cupboards and fridge to see if we had any but we didn't which made me quite sad.

Clay came down the stairs to see me staring at the empty cupboard with a few tears in my eyes. He came over to me looking at what I was before becoming very confused at what exactly was going through my mind clearly wondering if I was going a bit insane.

"Is everything alright?" He asked

"We don't have any pickles" I whined

"Do you want me to go and get you some?" He asked

I nodded my head and we went to the car to drive to the store to go buy pickles mainly because I didn't want to be left alone. Clay actually went into the store while I stayed in the car because he didn't want me getting cold but he soon came back with two jars of pickles just incase I wanted more another day.

Back at home I ate half the pickles in the jar and very much enjoyed it and so did baby which was the whole point of going to get them. I imagine just like every other craving I will get over it and move on to a new one.

Sapnap:

My mood swings have been insane so far during pregnancy like way morse than they would be before my period is due to arrive. I feel so awful that Sapnap has to deal with me because he used to hate it when I got so very emotional before my period and now its constant and like x1000.

I have been slightly more emotional than usual today which has just been ruining my day because I can't seem to get anything done without crying or raging at myself but I've yet to spend much time with Sapnap so he has been spared from my disastrous day so far. This soon changed when he came downstairs and sat with me on the sofa.

He attempted to cuddle with me but something in my brain told me that I didn't want that and I should be mad at him for even trying to be affectionate even though I love him so very much.

"No get off me" I said a bit too harshly

"Oh I'm sorry baby is there anything you want?" He asked trying to be accommodating

I shrugged him off still slightly angry but getting over it very quickly and feeling bad for half yelling at him. My anger soon completely dissolved and was replaced by sadness at the fact that I had yelled and now wanted to cuddle but he wasn't going to want to now right, I mean I've just yelled at him so why would he want to cuddle.

A few tears started to form in my eyes and soon spilled out onto my face wetting my cheeks which I tired to hide by facing away from Sapnap but of course he knows me and tried to see what I was hiding. As soon as he saw I was crying he put his hands on my face to wipe the tears and gave me a kiss.

"What's wrong babe? How can I fix it?" He asked

"I feel bad for yelling and I want cuddles but you don't want to give them to me because I was mean" I explained

"You are so silly of course I'll still give you cuddles if you want them" he said

He pulled me into a big bear hug where we stayed for the rest of the day and night.

Quackity:

I have been having a lot of odd cravings over the past few weeks most of which are completely unnatural and Alex thinks are gross but they actually taste really good. To me at least.

Tonight I was really feeling like eating chicken nuggets with honey, I really wanted to eat it but I was scared to ask Alex to come to the store with me because he would think it was weird and judge me which my fragile little heart couldn't take.

"Alex will you go to the store with me please?" I asked

"Of course love what do you want this time?" He asked

"Chicken nuggets and honey" I whispered

"What was that" he questioned

"Chicken nuggets and honey" I said a bit louder

"That sounds interesting lets go" he said

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up and to the car where we went to McDonald's for the chicken nuggets and then target for the honey before going back home. Alex was interested to try this combination too so the both of us sat down to try it. At first the flavour was really weird but once you got used to it it was really good actually and now I think I'm obsessed and by the looks of things so is Alex because his face looked like he had just had the best thing ever.

Karl:

Oh my has it been a rollercoaster so far, I've been so over emotional and have been craving so many different things it is so hard to keep up with for me let alone Karl.

This morning I was trying to make breakfast and I couldn't open the milk which upset me but then the bowls were up too high so I couldn't reach which made me even more upset but the last straw for this morning was when I had just sat down after struggling with everything and someone rang the doorbell just as I was about to eat the cereal I had really been wanting. I answered the door to collect the parcel the man had before going back to the living room with tears starting to slip down my face.

I'm not sure why I was so upset but I was which stopped me eating my cereal because I was crying which made me cry more because I really wanted the cereal, it was just an awful cycle. Karl walked in as I was staring at my full bowl of cereal sobbing which caused him to run over to see what was wrong.

"Hey hey whats wrong?" He asked

"Nothing is going right and all I want to do is eat my cereal but I can't because I'm crying which is making me more upset" I ranted

"Oh honey I'm sorry how about you follow my breathing to calm down and then eat your cereal ok?" He suggested

He helped me calm down enough to be able to eat my cereal which was kind of soggy by now but I still very much enjoyed it and soon got back to my normal self.

Wilbur:

My hormones are all over the place which normally I can handle but every now and then I get too overly emotional and just cry over random things, this usually happens when I'm alone so I just deal with it myself.

Today Wilbur took the day off from working so he's here to see the rollercoaster that is my day and believe me it can be a rollercoaster. I had a breakdown this morning when doing chores I was unloading the dishwasher and I kept almost dropping everything I touched which made me so mad at myself and really sad at the same time. I just left the room and sat down for a minute talking to myself to sort my brain out then went back to doing chores.

Later in the afternoon we were watching a nature documentary which we do a lot and there was this lizard and her babies that were being hunted by a large bird, I was willing them to get away but the bird caught the babies and the mother got away. This made me so sad that the lizard lost her babies while I was sat there carrying my baby. I started crying thinking about the fact that anything could happen to little bean once their here.

"It's ok love its just natures way" Wilbur said

"But what if bad things happen to bean when their here obviously not like that but anything could happen" I sniffled

"We will protect bean as best we can to stop anything bad happening but for now their safe where they are" Wilbur said

This made me feel better and luckily the rest of the documentary wasn't sad at all and there was some cute moments which made me forget about all my worries.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic. 

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them. 

-

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately. 

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin. 

This has been going on for days now. 

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work. 

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you. 

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away. 

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell. 

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house. 

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon. 

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out. 

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting. 

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely." 

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend. 

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight. 

Or ever. Forever sounds good. 

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky. 

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire. 

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules. 

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on. 

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future. 

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet. 

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse." 

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is. 

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam. 

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you. 

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King. 

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred. 

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you. 

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?" 

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred. 

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses. 

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house. 

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights. 

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy. 

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either. 

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room. 

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by. 

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow." 

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts. 

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight. 

-

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance. 

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them. 

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP. 

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky. 

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness. 

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.  

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms. 

The sound is coming from Fred's. 

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart. 

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees. 

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him. 

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him. 

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise. 

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me." 

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what? 

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist." 

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively. 

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.  

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!" 

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've - 

"I was right. I'm losing you too..." 

"Uh, what?" 

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you." 

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." 

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths." 

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better." 

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought? 

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up. 

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now. 

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled. 

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything." 

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session." 

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do." 

"Mn." 

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred. 

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze. 

"Mn?" 

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state. 

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all." 

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?" 

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you." 

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated. 

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside. 

They're going to be alright. 

[bunny-script]

Not a date pt.1 ~ Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Y/n and Spencer are inseperable, they're best friends. And they're in love with each other. Problem is, neither of them know about the others feelings. So it's not a date. Or is it ? (basically a really long build-up to something that may or may not be a date depending on who you ask.)

Wordcount: 1342

A/N: omg omg first part of "not a date" !! its part of the reason I created this account ! The idea has been inhabiting my brain for a while but I didn't have a place for it. Anyways this is terribly written, my apologies. Feedback, likes and reblogs are obviously very welcome. Thank you so much for reading, have an incredible day and enjoy ! - bunny

warnings: not that I can think of, if you need me to trigger warn anything please let me know !!

Standing up from her desk in the bullpen, Y/n stretched her arms out and cringed at just how loudly her back cracked, before gathering her paperwork and putting it onto a neat pile at the edge of her desk, rearranging the little fidget toys and pictures in her workspace to be in correct order again and throwing the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

She spotted Penelope in the break room kitchen and skipped over to her blonde, brightly coloured friend. Grabbing an energy drink from the fridge, she turned around to be met by her amused eyes.

“What?” Y/n questioned before bringing the sickly sweet carbonated caffeine bomb to her lips.

“Nothing… Just seem a little more excited than usual ‘s all. Could that be because of her ‘not date’ with boy wonder today ?” Penelope teased.

“God, Pen, It’s not a date!” She responded in a hushed voice. And it wasn’t. Not really, at least.

-

Truth is, Spencer and Y/n were head over heels for each other, and when your closest friends and colleagues are behavioural profilers, it was only a matter of time until everyone found out. And eventually, they all did. Except Spencer and Y/n of course, those two were still so deep in denial they would only scoff and nervously laugh whenever someone made the mistake of assuming the two were a couple. Only to lay awake in the motel room that night, thinking, dreaming ‘what if’.

But honestly, who could blame those people? The pair have been best friends and basically inseparable ever since Y/n joined the BAU around four years ago. They instantly clicked. Constantly touching someone, holding their hand or flat outsitting on each other might give outsiders the wrong impression.

They’d take the same lunch break and go out for coffee together, share rooms on cases, constanly talk on the phone or text each other.

They had sleepovers more times than they cared to admit.

Spencer’s apartment was filled with Y/n’s things, she had a toothbrush there, clothes, her own shampoo and conditioner, for gods sake he even emptied out a drawer in his dresser for her and hung up an extra hook next to his front door for Y/n to hang up her go-bag.

It wasn’t just Y/n inhabiting Spencer’s apartment though, the same deal went for him in her apartment. Only that Spencer is clingy and hates leaving her company for any reason, so the amount of books she never even read, that have been sitting in her bookshelves for so long...She really didn’t know how many there were.

So yeah, it was safe to say the two were inseperable.

Around a year ago during girls night, Y/n decided to come clean to her friends and tell them about her feelings for their resident genius. They all knew obviously. Everyone knew, except for Spencer, which she was incredibly grateful for.

They had all tried to subtly tell her that they knew for a fact he was in love with her too without directly saying “hey actually he confessed to Derek a while back” but she didn’t believe them.

-

“Okay cut the crap, we both know this isn’t just you two hanging out like you usually do. I dont have to be a profiler to know that, because I know Reid and I know you like the back of my hand. You’ve been fidgety and jittery all day and we both know he loves this dress you’re wearing, little miss “we’re just friends.””

-

The first time he’d seen the dress on her was two years ago when he opened the door to his apartment after hearing a knock only to find her outside, dressed in a soft, flowy sundress that suited her perfectly.

“You look lovely!” he blurted out instead of “hello” and earned a laugh from her and his neighbour who had just walked up the stairs behind Y/n. “Not so bad yourself, looking quite hot in that cardigan, Spence. Is it new?” She responded as she came in and put the grocery bags she brought down on his kitchen counter.

He blushed at the blunt compliment and helped her unload the ingredients for the dinner they had planned on making for the team. “No. I just haven’t worn it in a while. You? The dress, I mean.” Spencer explained and heard her say “Yes, I just bought it.”

At the end of that night when Y/n, Penelope and Derek were just about to leave, a tipsy Spence told her she should wear it more often.

She wanted to, but only found barely a handful of occasions to wear it after that night.

-

“It’s not for him. Can’t a girl wanna look pretty without an interrogation?” Y/n lied and excused herself to go and get Spencer. She found him still hunched over his desk, his two pointer fingers typing away on his computer.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Y/n asked as shecame up and hugged him from behind.

“Yeah, just another minute. Almost done with my report.” he quickly said in the most controlled tone he could muster.

-

Spencer had always had a problem with physical touch. He just didn’t like it, every fact he knew about the exchanging of germs screaming at him to not shake other peoples hands. And Y/n was no exception. At first. After they had grown closer and gotten to know each other, he let her hug him a few times. And it was like something in him just clicked. There was no yelling in his head, no fear of germs or letting someone get close.

He wanted her closer and closer, so when one morning hewoke up from one of their sleepovers and she was still sound asleep and snuggled into him, he embraced it with open arms. Literally. He slipped his arms around her and went back to sleep.

After that, it was all he thought about for days. The way her arms wrapped around his torso, her entire face nuzzled into his chest, her hand firmly pressed into his waist. She looked peaceful, so warm and content. Like they had been doing this for centuries. She felt so right in his arms and he never wanted to let her go. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Y/n’s legs tangled with his own that morning and how genuinely right and exciting it felt. Like a firework he didn’t know he was looking forward to finally going off.

And then it happened again a few weeks later, only this time she had woken up before him and found herself being spooned by Spencer.

To her it felt like contentment, finally being at peace with a situation she didn’t know how to feel about. Like finding herself in a field of flowers after wandering through confusing tunnels with only a candle to light her way.

At first, neither of them talked about it, just enjoying it whenever it happened and pretending to be asleep, desperately trying to stay like that forever.

Until one night when they were watching a horror movie. No matter how well she usually did or didn’t handle horror movies, this one terrified her. Unbeknownst to her, Spencer was just as scared as she was, so on one particularly bad jumpscare, they hid their face in the other persons shoulder.

They both laughed and instantly relaxed, just giggling at each other until the credits rolled. After that, he just pulled her into his arms and they went to sleep like that.

But that was ages ago, by now they’re so used to each others constant touch, holding onto the other persons arm, cuddling to fall asleep and laying her head in his lap while he stroked her hair so she could fall asleep on the jet.

But that didn’t mean her touch didn’t make him nervous, sent his head spinning and made his entire body flood with warmth and shivers.

Because it did, and he never wanted her to stop giving him that feeling.

[bi-naesala]

Fox isn’t surprised when he finds someone inside his shitty apartment when he opens the door, not when that someone is Thorn, since he had insisted he gave him and the rest of the Guard - or former Guard you should say - squad a key to it, just as a security measure since he insists on living alone and barely contacts them.

He just went out that day to get some groceries - yes, now instead of guarding assholes for life he just does mundane things like that one - but still, he could’ve warned him that he was going to come.

“Hey, Fox!” he says, smiling warmly at him. Even as the war went on, that smile has never lost its particular shine. How he managed is still a mystery to Fox.

“Thorn,” the other greets him, stepping inside. Despite everything he can’t help an amused huff seeing Thorn all comfortable on his couch. “I see you’ve made yourself at home already.”

“Well, you know, since I was all alone in here…” Thorn replies, before getting up and dragging Fox into a hug. “I’ve missed you, vod.”

Fox doesn’t like how easily he melts at the contact, but by now he’s gotten used to it. He receives so little physical affection that when he actually does it’s so intense that he almost cries - almost.

“I’ve missed you too.”

 Since he’s there, Thorn makes himself useful by helping him with the groceries, putting them in the places they belong to.

“So… wanna come to 79’s later?” he asks, closing the fridge but not before taking a bottle of water and drink it like this was his home and he could do anything he wants with no repercussions. It’s all Fox’s fault: he let him get away with it at first in the name of hospitality, and now it’s gotten out of control. Oh well, it’s not like he can order him to stop now - he doesn’t have a rank anymore.

A sigh leaves his lips then. This isn’t the first time Thorn has attempted something like this, but by now he should know how it’s going to end.

“No.”

 If his dry answer fazes Thorn at all, he doesn’t show any sign of it.

“Okay. How about tomorrow?”

Fox shakes his head. “No.”

Now Thorn’s enthusiasm begins to look a bit deflated, but he still doesn’t lose hope.

“Would you like to come any day this week?”

“No.”

This time a sigh leaves Thorn’s lips.

“Alright maybe let’s not go to 79’s,” he says, “How about somewhere else? Dex? You used to love Dex! Or we could go to this nice place Thire told me about--”

“Thorn.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not coming.” Fox gestures to the other. “If you want to have fun go, I’m not stopping you. Just leave me out of it.”

Thorn takes a deep breath.

“Why are you so determined to be stuck in your little hole?!” he asks, exasperation overflowing at every word, “You have the right to have a life! Nobody’s going to deny you that anymore!”

Unlike Thorn, Fox isn’t a fool; he knows that his situation is not as easy as he makes it out to be: even if the Clones Rights Bill has been approved, it’ll take some time before the rest of the galaxy will see them as actual people, and Fox himself isn’t also exactly loved by his vode.

He doesn’t blame them: he was the one who raised his blaster against one of his own; he didn’t kill him only because he had missed his heart by a small margin.

If he wasn’t exactly well-loved before - it goes with being a Corrie, as they called it - from that point on he became absolutely hated. He doesn’t blame them nor he tries to justify himself, even as he has to admit he doesn’t have many memories of that day in the first place; still, he’s not a coward and he refuses to hide behind such a pathetic excuse.

 The thing is this: Fox doesn’t belong anywhere anymore; he knows there isn’t a place in which he’s welcome.

It’s fine, solitude isn’t that bad, even if it wasn’t supposed to be part of any of their lives, but he’s gotten used to it.

Besides…

 “I do get out. In fact, I just came home after I got out.” It’s a weak retort, but someone has to make that point. As expected in fact, Thorn’s completely unimpressed with that comeback.

“Grocery shopping doesn’t count.”

“Not just that,” Fox weakly mutters.

He’s not lying though! Two days ago he got out to meet with Bly! Sure, they have avoided going to 79’s or any other clone created space, but they still saw each other, they still went for a walk, they still talked, they still acted like friends.

Of his old batch, Bly is the one Fox sees most; it used to be Ponds, but then… Fox doesn’t want to think about that. Apparently Bly has forgotten that his brothers can take care of themselves and has the need to be act like a mother even when that’s totally unnecessary - nevermind how relieved Fox feels when he comes visiting, that’s totally unrelated.

With Wolffe he mostly speaks via comms; they guy is still so busy trying to find a place for the Wolfpack, and although Fox doesn’t blame him - he would’ve done the same for the Guard - he’s glad that his men managed to find it on their own.

Hell, even Cody makes himself known from time to time, even though it’s mostly by sending holos from his most recent travels - yes, he always said that he wanted to explore the galaxy after the war, and now the son of a bantha is truly doing it.

Excluding his batch, the only people that remember his existence are Stone and Thire, who make a point to visit when they can, and Thorn, who is the one who bothers him most often.

 No matter how you put it, in the end Fox is very much alone.

It’s just self-preservation, nothing more nothing less, really: the Coruscant Guard has always been in a weird spot, because they’ve been looked down by the majority of the vode for not fighting frontline.

Now, with the discovery of Palpatine’s true identity, things have only gotten worse because they’ve been suspected of working with him, as if they haven’t been simply other pawns for him to manipulate. Not that they have ever been accused directly - except from some drunk vod at 79’s - but it was easy drawing conclusions with the way they were looked at, or the general distrust that the vode reserved them, like they could still be working against them.

At least Fox has managed to shift the blame around so that instead of “the Guard worked with Palpatine” people go around saying that only Fox did. His reputation is already damaged beyond repair, so why not? At least the others will get that second chance at life that he knows he wouldn’t get either way.

Deep down, very deep down, he envies them, because they truly are free, unlike him, who will be chained to his past crimes until the day he dies and probably even after - he shivers just thinking about how he’ll be remembered by the future generation, if he’ll be remembered at all.

Still, it all becomes meaningless in front of the pure joy he feels when they narrate him the last shenanigans they get themselves involved in. They are truly free and happy now, and Fox is happy for them.

 … If sometimes he wishes their places were switched, that he was the one who could live freely as his heart desires, well, that’s something only for him to know and keep secret.

Sometimes he thought about confiding in Thorn, the only one he’d ever consider burdening with this stuff, but every time he decides to do he quickly changes his mind; it’s not worth it.

Now more than ever he wants to scream, not even at Thorn in particular, just scream, as if all his anguish and problems would disappear just with that. It would be too good to be true

It’s not that he doesn’t want to get out, it’s just that he can’t. It’s not safe, it’s not…

He’s afraid of all the stares he’d get, of all the words that would be thrown at him. Normally it wouldn’t phase him - he’s used to it - but day by day he’s becoming more susceptible to his emotions again; it almost makes him miss that time when he was so detached to seem almost a droid. At least he could get things done back then, not like now that he has to mentally prepare himself to go out at least one day before.

 At least now he’s free, however, isn’t he?

Technically he could go wherever he wants, could do whatever he wants, if only… No, he can’t. People wouldn’t be happy to have him around.

 Thorn tries again. He’s gotten so close to Fox that if he was someone else Fox would’ve already tried to put some distance between them, but with Thorn he’s used to it.

“Fox, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t. I--” Kark, his voice is breaking.

“Nobody’s stopping you. In fact, the only one stopping you is yourself, trust me,” Thorn reassures him. “I know you still feel guilty, but most vode have gotten over it. In the end we were all in a shitty situation. Besides, you did hesitate in the end, didn’t you? That’s why Fives is still alive and why we discovered who the Sith Lord was.”

What Thorn is saying makes sense, but this doesn’t mean that it’s easy for Fox to accept it; after so much time spent with self-hatred as his only constant companion, he can’t act like he never thought any bad things about himself. Besides, he doubts the rest of the vode really have forgiven him.

Still, Thorn wouldn’t lie about this, because as much as the fool still insists on wanting to cheer him up, he knows that he won’t accomplish anything by telling lies - actually, he’d make things even worse - and there’s still the fact that deep down Fox wants to leave his place, wants to do something with his life, but… it’s scary.

 “Even if I decide to leave, it’ll take time before I can organize anything,” he says, because it’s so much easier saying that rather than to admit that he’s the one who needs time.

These last months have been hard for everybody, but nobody talks about how especially hard they’ve been for Fox. He’s just so tired of everything.

Yes, that’s it, he’s tired. If he could he’d disappear without leaving any trace, but he knows that if he does someone would come searching for him; in the end there are some people that care about him, but at this point Fox wishes they didn’t because it would make his situation easier: he wouldn’t hold onto that love he still scarcely receives anymore, he wouldn’t suffer because it’s still so little.

Whose fault is that anyway? It’s his. It’s him the one who keeps pushing people away. It’s just that he craves and hates the attention at the same time, a contradiction that he still hasn’t sorted out.

 He’s so focused on trying not to lose it in front of Thorn that he barely notices him moving them to the couch. He does feel it however when he closes his arms around him, when he kisses his forehead, when he says that it’s fine, that it’s ok, that he’s safe.

Fox has gone so long without allowing this kind of softness in his life, but damn he missed it. If he began to let people closer again it might happen more often, but how is he supposed to do it?

 He doesn’t know how much time passes before he gathers enough strength to speak. He won’t lie: staying like this almost makes him want to curl into a ball and fall asleep in the security of Thorn’s arms, but it’s something that Fox would rather avoid, at least for now. Maybe in the future he might be able to let go and actually do it.

“I want to leave,” he eventually says.

“Leave to where?” Thorn asks.

“I don’t know, but I want to travel.”

“We can do that,” Thorn replies, smiling at Fox, “We can do whatever we want.”

Yes it’s true, they can…

“You think Thire and Stone would want to come? It would be nice having the squad back together.”

“I’m sure they’d love it.”

Fox doesn’t know if Thorn’s actually right, but it’s reassuring to hear him say that.

 For now he’ll bask in his brother’s warmth for a bit longer. They can plan another time - there’s no rush after all.

The idea of the outside isn’t something he’s still entirely comfortable with, but Fox would also be lying if he said that he isn’t looking forward to exploring it. Coruscant is pretty and all… but he’s grown tired of it.

He might still not have found his place in the new word, but who knows, maybe there’s hope for him yet.

[har-rison-s]

your worth

request: Loki Smut please! Perhaps both Reader & Loki are in love with each other but in denial. Loki thinks he's a monster and a human could never love him til she proves him wrong.

A/N: Listen,,,, I live for this type of smut. I don't know why. Something about comforting someone or making them feel like they matter is... I love. God, I probs sound desperate. But honestly, I just want to love someone :> Anyway :D I love this request, if you can't already tell, and I hope you'll like it. I hope the anon who requested this is still following me! Truth is, I started writing this one back in July 2019 and got around to finish it two days ago and I've finally done it! it's been tough, that's for sure, I've had many writer's block moments. And I think this is actually my first ever Loki thing. It must be, yeah. Though I feel like I've wrote his character a million years already. I certainly did my best on this one. Smut is always a tad harder than fluff or angst for me and I wish to improve my skills at writing it.  Happy reading! Love you all!

main masterlist

mcu masterlist

warnings: angst, smut, comfort.

“Oh, Steve! Star-crossed lovers, seven o'clock.” Tony speaks, seeing Y/N and Loki walking - unplanned - together into the kitchen. Loki rolls his eyes while Y/N does nothing, perhaps only glancing at Loki for a split second, in fear. She searches for any shared emotion between them, even if it may be discomfort. Anything they could share. Loki and her are both tired from Tony's and Sam's constant teasing. But, like the mentioned two, the rest of the team also see what's really going on between Y/N and Loki.

Now, Loki is in bigger denial than Y/N, because her feelings are showing more above the surface, easier to read. She’s recently realised it, hence she tries her best to conceal her feelings, her embarrassment, her truth, so no one could ‘crack her’. She would love to share these feelings with someone, scream them from the top of the Stark tower so that the whole world knows of it, and, most of all, to share them with Loki. 

But Loki... He’s cold. He denies her supposed feelings, and his own when asked about it. He himself can't accept that someone like her, a beautiful girl inside out, a caring and loving one, could like, much less love, someone like him. Well, there's no one else like him, but... Loki's a monster. A villain in his eyes and those of others. He’s been cowardly and submissive his whole life, committed crimes in hopes of earning love, attention… Acceptance. He’s betrayed his dearest, and is known as a galaxy-wide criminal and villain. Who and how could ever feel such things as love or affection towards him? 

“Your endless teasing is growing pathetic, tin-man.” Loki says to Tony, grabbing the coffee machine's handle to pour himself a cup of the terran liquid. A liquid he’s learned to love the taste of over these several months he’s spent in the tower. Tony snorts. To that Loki only shoots the man a look, though he wished he hadn’t.

“Tony, you should stop. It is starting to get old, this joke of yours.” Steve points out and turns over a page in the paper he's reading. Y/N makes quick work of taking sandwiches from the fridge. Mainly because she hates to be the topic of anyone's open discussion, but also because she can't bear hearing Loki denying his love for her. Truth be told, it hurts her very much.

Y/N only puts a dirty bowl in the dishwasher and walks out of the kitchen, leaving the others feeling quite empty with her leave. Loki's eyes sadden a bit upon it, though he erases that soon. He would have loved to be alone with her in the kitchen. Merely her presence soothes him, simply the breath that leaves her chest through her nose, her quiet touch of hand on counter and feet on floor. But not when these two are around. Her alone. It's far too many people for Y/N there, too many eyes and needless constant comments of the head of the team, hence she decided to come back later. 

She could always enjoy Loki’s presence in their lonesome, but not with others present. Though when she does have the chance, she cannot enjoy it for her nerves and anxiousness, her insecurities. 

“Not until something happens.” Tony states, his chin resting in his hand. “I believe—”

“Whatever theory you are about to voice, Stark, will prove you wrong.” Loki interrupts him, putting on a false smile and batting his eyelashes mockingly. Tony and Steve both look at the god drinking coffee. Loki’s gaze is unbreakable on the two.

“—that my teasing, as you call it, will do the exact trick that needs to be done in order for you to get over all this and just—tell each other everything!” Tony raises his hands in the air and looks at Steve. The captain shakes his head at Tony and looks back down at his paper, merely as tired of this as Loki and Y/N are. He’s thinking of leaving the kitchen soon, too.

“And what would you call 'everything'?” Asks Loki. The master of hiding anything that comes from his heart or his mind, hiding his true intentions. He's playing them both for fools. And himself. He knows what he feels, but he doesn't want to acknowledge it and is afraid to state his feelings.

“Oh, please,” Tony starts with an eye roll, “do I really have to tell you what you want to tell her? Honesty - is it not familiar in your realm?” A pause. “Your undying longing! You want each other, it's clear as day!”

“You don't know what you are talking about. Your human eyes see what you want them to—which is false—for what reason, I cannot guess,” Loki says, “no one could feel... longing for me. Or want me. That'd be...”

“Impossible?” Steve suggests. Loki gives him a look. “Surprises myself, this what I say, but that’s not true.” Loki now gives him a confused look. 

“What could be so wrong with a regular girl liking you? Or being with one?” Tony questions. “You’re discriminating the human race, huh.”

“What's in it for you, regular man?” Loki asks, squinting his eyes at the two men. Tony laughs, but Loki ignores it and slams his empty coffee mug into the sink, leaving the kitchen afterwards in a surprisingly calm stride. 

“Hey, horns! No dishes in the sink!” Tony calls after Loki, but he gets no response. Steve looks at his team-mate.

“Really think something as big as a god would care about a dirty, empty cup of coffee?” He asks and closes the newspaper he was trying to read. Tony once again is at fault for his failure.

“Worth a shot.”

“You're the worst match-maker I've met.” Steve admits and stands up from the kitchen table, leaving the room afterwards. Tony frowns, but doesn't doubt himself either way. He knows he's right. About the coffee cup and about Y/N's and Loki's probability of being a thing. It'll happen at some point. 

“Wanna bet?” Stark calls out to the hallway Steve walked down, but he gets no response from the super soldier. Instead, another voice speaks.

“Bet on what?” Tony hears Y/N's sweet voice behind him, entering the now empty and lonesome kitchen. Unnoticed, she slipped in the room through another door, good for quiet entries, but far from her own room. 

“Oh, you came back.” Tony states and Y/N eyes him across the table they're at. “Didn't like me and Steve sharing you two's company, huh?”

“Me and who's company?” She asks, confusion riddling her face as she makes herself sandwiches, again. The plate that adorned the previous ones now in the sink next to Loki’s cup. The mischief god has noticed her appetite and skill for handmade sandwiches, and the sight of her making another pair usually paints a warm smile on his lips.

“Just your one and only.” Tony says in a sickeningly sweet sing-song kind of voice, decoratively placing his palms under his chin. 

Y/N scowls. “There's nothing between me and Loki and I doubt there ever will be.” She says and even chuckles at the end, when instead she wants to wallow in pity cause that's the probability that is bound to happen. No happy ending, no love from him, no affection, no reading books together, no gazing at the stars, nothing shared… None of that. Only loneliness and longing now left for her.

“So you do hope for something to happen?” Tony questions and Y/N gives him an angry look.

“Why would I? I'm not ready for relationships.” She replies carelessly with a simple lie that’d struck the god in question straight into the heart. Only she wanted to add, unless Loki would want one with me. But she didn't. She doesn't like him, she doesn't want him. It'd be silly if I did. “Did you talk about... anything with him?” She betrays herself with these words.

Tony nods, grinning to himself. He has cracked her. There are feelings involved. “He said that, and I'm using his words, someone longing for him, wanting him, is impossible. And a human feeling it is even more impossible.” He says. “Basically, he dodged a bunch of questions, but we all know what’s really going on.”

“Sure does sound like him.” Y/N agrees quietly. Silence falls between the two as Y/N slices salad with a knife. Tony sighs.

“Could you please do yourselves and us a favor and cut the damn sexual tension between you?”

“A what now?” Y/N echoes, scoffing, a shocked expression on her face. “Firstly, if I was to do something, it wouldn't be because of you. I do things for myself, thank you very much. I don't need a motivator.” 

“And secondly?” Tony asks, looking strongly at Y/N. She realises after a moment she has nothing to add to her second point. Well, nothing that Tony should know from her. “You'll feel much better if you get everything sorted out.” Tony states and Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Stark.” She says before walking out of the kitchen for the second time this morning. Tony stays in his pose for a few seconds, wondering if he has worked his plan out and if it will work out on its own.

The day goes by and Y/N has found herself suffering from anxiety throughout it. She doubts herself, she worries about, perhaps, showing too much of her true feelings outwardly. This love, this unreturned, one-sided love should not exist. She should never have had such affectionate feelings towards him. She’s lesser than him, and he sees her so, as anyone of his title and kind would. He is a god, a god thrice older than a thousand years, the same amount older than Y/N herself.

She is a simple human girl, she’s only gifted, that’s what could ever make her special in the eyes of someone his kind. She cannot compare to him, or his brother. She’s so little against the metaphorical and physical him, they simply… do not match. He knows this well and could never return the feelings because of this. She’s stupid to even hope for that. 

But she knows little of what he thinks of her. She’d be delighted, to say the least, if she’d ever hear his thoughts aloud. He thinks of her heavenly, much more heavenly than himself and any other creature he’s seen. He thinks of her as sent from the Allfathers, a precious gift to all everyone she meets in her life. She’s truly all grace, love and beauty merged into one human being and Loki longs everyday to be bathed in it. He may only dream of it, though until a point. 

Both of them spent the Saturday in their rooms, in their personal agonies. Many days like this have come and gone in their lives, days when Y/N is not on a mission, going out with the others, grocery shopping or doing anything otherwise productive. Y/N would be ready to write this Saturday down as the worst in her life until a certain minute struck past nine in the evening. 

The team had gone out, an occasion Y/N was not ready to accompany them on tonight. Some type of celebration, maybe? Well, it always is, no matter the reason. So they left Y/N and some other usual sulkers to their own devices, one of them being Loki. Due to his surprisingly kind heart, tonight he decided on going to Y/N’s room, accompany her, if he may, all by her lonesome, and set his mind right by telling her how she feels.

He was pacing a bit before he headed the needed floor up the tower. Hands touching and mushing his own face times and times over, eyes bulging out of their sockets purely out of torturing anxiety. He moved his hair back, he tousled it back into messy locks, over and over. Having no peace in his mind or body. 

Loki could fail miserably, doing what he’s intended to. He could give out his whole heart and soul to her, and she could laugh in his face. Crying would not be as bad as laughing, so he hopes crying is the worst to come of it. But it could not be the worst… The worst of all outcomes would be her inability to return the feelings. Gods, no… Loki hopes to all whose hands it’s in that she does not have this inability. 

A knock comes softly to Y/N’s door. She raises her head from her book with curious eyes and raised eyebrows. She presses the button to open the sliding door, and to her most surprise, Loki almost falls through when the door opens. He is not used to this kind of technology, not yet. He leaves his door open, as in Asgard the bedrooms did not really have doors that can open and close. There were no doors at all. 

Both their eyes meet and Y/N rises from her bed right to her feet, not letting the book go so her fingers would have something to nibble on out of stress. “Loki,” she says, her surprise very apparent in her voice still. The god simply stands in her doorway as the door closes automatically, dressed in… Oh, he looks gorgeous. Loki wears a green linen shirt, his signature colour, similar to those from medieval times, wide sleeves and strings instead of buttons. He does wear dress pants, though, which look like part of a formal suit two-piece, “good evening.” 

“Good evening, my lady.” Loki greets back. 

“What brings you here?” Y/N asks and tries to adjust her pyjama shorts, suddenly realising how undressed she is compared to Loki. Her stripy, loose button up and pyjama shorts are not her best look. 

“Well, I—“ for a moment, Loki looks and acts like his regular self, seemingly about to burst out with a joke or a trick, his mannerisms tell her so. He glances at the corner of Y/N’s bed. “May I sit down?” He asks with innocent eyes. Y/N nods in response, gesturing for him to do so. He nods, sits down on her bed, his pose reserved and a bit stale. Y/N walks now to stand in front of him, but not too close. “I have come to tell you something.” 

Y/N has rarely seen Loki this… gentle, this… fragile, sort of. He does not look like himself, but then again there looks to be revealed more a lot more of him than usual. Purely looking at his face, Y/N wants to whimper ‘i love you’, and she almost does. But thank god for self-control. 

She crosses her arms over her chest out of habit. “I’m listening.” She says, a million positive and negative guesses going through her mind like a thousand volcanoes, making noise and chaos in there, most of all—permitting her to think clearly. 

“I beg you to take this—what I will say—kindly.” Loki says, a saddened expression on his face. “It scares me and tears me apart to say, but I must for my own and your sake.” He starts and takes a deep breath. Here comes ‘i can’t stand you’, ‘i hate you’, ‘i don’t like your company’. Y/N furrows her eyebrows and tries to shut those thoughts out. “I find you, Y/N, very attractive, beautiful, really, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. And not only physically.” Her breath catches in her throat. “You are grace, beauty and wisdom in one body. You are… You are an angel sent from the Gods above to this Earth…”

Seeing the look on Y/N’s face, the look of surprise and confusion and eyes on the brink of crying, Loki’s doubts on himself begin to take over.

“I should not have those feelings for you, it is wrong for me to think of you this way, to,” he gulps, “to want to cherish you day and night, to give you as much love as you give away and deserve in return, and much more; to lay you gently to sleep and give every goodnight to you, as well as see you every morning that I wake. It is wrong.” Loki shakes his head and looks at you, clearly ashamed to have exposed his heart and yearnings like this, to someone, and ashamed of their truth. 

Tears do gather in Y/N’s eyes and she unconsciously drops her book before rushing to stand before the god, carefully cradling his face between her hands. “Why do you think it’s wrong?” She whispers, scared, but searching his eyes for the answer. Loki’s pleasantly taken aback by her action. 

“Because… look at me. You know well who I am.” Loki starts explaining after looking into Y/N’s eyes. “You know what I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt, the way I am, I’m—I’m—I’m a monster.” Loki finishes and guiltily eyes the girl cradling his cold cheeks. She closes her eyes, tears squeezing past her lids, and shakes her head.

“You are no monster.” She whispers even quieter than before. She opens her eyes to press a kiss to Loki’s forehead, which freezes him. She’s in agony, because her greatest love is thinking of himself so low. Loki’s ready to disagree with her, but she speaks before him. “You are not.” She shakes her head again, looking into Loki’s eyes, begging him to listen and believe her, feeling it’s hard to do so. He’s been hurt and he’s been mislead, there’s no wonder he wouldn’t believe every person he speaks with. But with her, it might be different. 

Y/N puts her forehead against Loki’s. “You long for love, and appreciation, and I can relate to that deeply.” She tells him. “But I can also give you that what you desire.” She says and draws back to look into Loki’s eyes once again. He’s unsure, shown by his face, but willing at the same time. 

Loki locks his hand around her wrist, but gently. “Are you certain?” 

“Do not ask me if I’m certain. I have waited, it seems, my whole life, to give it all to you. And you only.” Y/N assures him. Her finger runs along the side of his face slowly, admiring the milky skin adorning his body. “Can I show you?”

“I’d love nothing less.” Loki says, agreeing to give himself to her freely. So she takes him, pushing Loki down on the soft covers and mattress of her bed and balancing herself on top of him. Her knees are on each side of his hips, pressing into the mattress as Y/N straightens her back above him.

Loki wants to keep this exact moment in his memory. She, with tears in her eyes, but with her beautiful hair falling around her face and shoulders, starts unbuttoning her striped shirt. Her face the most beautiful face, as always, and her eyes boring into him. Her crotch pressing into his lower stomach. Loki dares to moves his hands to her thighs, exploring the skin and flesh on her upper legs. Only groping them makes him more hungry and yearning for her.

Y/N doesn’t unbutton her shirt fully, she’s too impatient out of want to know how his lips feel, how he kisses, how his lips would move against hers. So she moves down to Loki, his face showing complete submission to her. Her hand caresses the edge of his hair at his forehead, then her fingers swipe against his cheek. These touches are already almos orgasmic to Loki, he leans into her touch like a kitten who hasn’t known home for long, and he mewls at her feather caresses.

Finally, her hand moves to the back of his neck, the fingertips just trace into the roots of his hair, she’s cradling his head. Their lips almost touch, and Loki can already feel them on his, just a few inches, and he’ll fall in love with her even more than he has already. The fatal kiss, he might call it. 

He leans up out of impatience, but she already presses down, and they meet each other halfway. Whatever Y/N had thought would be kissing him like, what it actually feels like is a hundred, thousand, million times better. It is far better than she has felt in her life. 

Loki’s mind goes numb. He never thought he could get this much satisfaction and pleasure from a mortal being. He never thought his expectations would be out-done. He thinks he’ll never feel anything that could out-do this in his long life. Now this kiss captures everything that they feel for each other intensely. All the love and lust, yearning and hunger, longing and reaching. All of it, in one kiss. How is that even possible? 

Love must be magic.

Instinctively, Loki’s hands grasp Y/N’s thighs harder, pulling her closer to him. But her rolling back into place creates a grind against the god’s slender body, which makes Loki moan and all the more impatient. He longs to feel every inch of her against him, around him, on him, it doesn’t matter. He just needs to feel her.

Y/N presses another kiss on Loki’s lips, and another, and another. When she doesn’t, her mouth open in a gasp, Loki chases her lips and connects them both again. Her hands move to untie the front of Loki’s shirt, but when that is not enough, she untucks the shirt from his pants and slides her hands under the green shirt. Her hands feel warm against his chest, and his skin to her feels a little colder than her own chest. 

The skin is smooth and a little slithery, Y/N cannot guess why. Does he use some special shower gel? Or was he born with skin like that? 

Loki’s fingers cautiously wander around her hips and waist, wanting to explore every inch of her body, to know it, to know it best of anyone. But Y/N feels impatient, teased by his touch, and she grabs his hands in her own, straightening up again. 

She moves his hands under her shirt now, both their actions mirrored, similar as they are both equally curious about the other. “You are not wrong to love me the way you do.” She assures him. “Touch me as you please, I have longed for your complete touch for the longest time.”

Loki would have cried out that he loves her more than anything, but he’s much too turned on to do so. She is sitting right above his growing-by-the-second arousal, causing them both teased pleasure and more arousal. Y/N lets his hands go, lets them wander on their own, feeling afterwards Loki’s touch on her waist, her back, her stomach. While she herself opens the top of his trousers and shrugs them down his legs carelessly, not interested in whether they are or are not completely off. She can only think about him.

His hands grip her back, pulling her down onto him. His next move is to get her pyjama shorts off, and he does so in a hurry. Once the garment is off, Loki grips the back of her head, Y/N’s hair bunching up and twisting under his fingers. Their lips interlock in an intense kiss, so intense, so full of emotion, that both involved shed tears. And the tears wet the other’s cheeks and lips, and they can taste the salt of the drops in each kiss they share.

Y/N thinks Loki’s fingers might dig holes into her back from the way he’s holding her. She pulls away from his lips and locks eyes with Loki again. “Make love to me.” She requests in a hushed whisper. Loki’s eyebrows raise for just a second, but he gets right on it, or rather, on her. 

Loki gently lays her down on her own bed and kisses her neck, her collarbones, his hands already back to her waist. Y/N lets her hands lay by her head, sighs leaving her lips in pleasure, her chest moving up and down in semi-hiccups. Loki’s hair tickles her chest as do his lips, but he decides he cannot watch her from above for any longer.

“I am at your mercy.” He tells her, returning them both to the position they were in previously. Loki’s head now resting against the headboard, looking at her from below again. He loves this much more. Y/N manages a smile, resting both her hands on Loki’s heaving, growing-hot chest. 

“I love you.” She whispers to him, and doing so, she tears up. Loki smiles at her, though a bit sadly, and makes her giggle as well. She takes the back of Loki’s neck again and pulls it towards herself, their foreheads once again pressed together. They pant, they cry and they laugh. It might sound insane, but they don’t much care. 

“I love you.” Loki responds, his eyes looking so sincerely and strongly into hers. Y/N looks over what she sees of Loki an she smiles wide again, disbelief adorning her eyes. She cannot phatom the place and situation she’s in, she cannot phatom the person she’s with most of all. She whispers her love to him over and over, panting breaths interrupting her words, as well as her own kisses on Loki’s lips and cheeks. She pulls him closer to herself, whether it be possible or not, by the back of his neck, gripping his muscles under her delicate touch. 

Loki gives her kisses back, very heated kisses, that each leave her running after fresh breath. Neither of them can wait no longer, and so Loki helps her get her underwear off and Y/N takes his length to line up with her entrance. Her face twists and she draws in a gasp of very high pitch when the tip is teasing her walls, Loki can’t deny his own sensitivity to the feeling. She feels so warm, she feels so silky, and she’ll be around him—

She takes over and pushes him whole inside of her, immediately awakening sounds and feelings in them both they didn’t know they could muster. Both of them freeze, mouths agape and eyes shut tight, their hands interlocked so tightly they might break each other’s bones. 

“Gods, darling…” Loki sighs, speaking finally. She might have thought he went dead for the moment he tried to comprehend he’s really feeling this, he’s really buried himself inside of her, he’s really having this moment with her. Not any other guy or man, him, Loki. 

Y/N shudders. With this first thrust already she can feel him near her spot. His size is incredible, and he’s quite thick. Though a little stretching and stinging at that, there’s pleasure much more than any pain. “C-Can I move?” She asks, opening her eyes to look on Loki. He nods, massaging her hand with his thumb over, readying them both for what’s to come.

She moves upwards, though lazily, and moans at the feeling of him reeling against her walls. She sinks down as deep as she can and lifts herself up again, now pressing their intertwined hands against Loki’s bare chest for support. He lets go of her hands and instead returns them to her waist. Going up and down on him, his hands were extra support. Because, honestly, she’s in such a trance from the feeling that she can barely make herself move. 

Her hands move to his shoulders for even more support and her chest leans towards his, as much rythmically as her hip movements do. Soon enough he thrusts his hips to meet hers, and from then on their movements increase in speed. There is not enough air in the world for them to catch, there is never enough sound for them to show their satisfaction through. Mostly, there is not enough of each other they can get.

Loki pulls her down to himself merely to kiss her, feeling himself nearing the edge. His hand grips her face just right and Y/N clenches around him. It makes Loki accidentally bite down on her lip. She gasps and, oh, oh—she’s coming. She’s coming, and her nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. She is certain she now knows what drugs feel like. But this is certainly better than any drug. Because it’s love, and it’s passion, and it’s wonderful…

“Tell me you’re close,” she begs Loki, mid-orgasm.

“I am,” he confirms, “I love you.” He tells her again, reminding her and himself. He reminds himself because, for the first time in his life, his love and yearning to give his love, has been fulfilled. And returned. And he’s got to keep that in mind. Loki’s eyes look begging, almost praying to her, praying for her love.

He looks into her eyes when they both come, surprisingly in unison, but their eye contact is scarce mostly, her eyes are shut tight. She sings tunes of ecstasy, still barely moving on his length, as best she can. Loki fills her ears with growls and moans he’s finally not afraid to let out. 

When she looks at him and nods ever so subtly, he understands with it that she’s done and he can pull out. So he does, slowly, making her mewl out of sensitivity. She feels a little sore, but it’s an ache she excuses because of who has made her so. She looks at him.

He helps her steady herself on top of him, her nakedness sitting on his stomach. They both do their best at getting their breath back, and as Y/N regains herself, she nears her face down to Loki’s. Their eyes lock. Loki puts his hands on both her cheeks. They share a gentle kiss and lay silently for a few moments, simply looking at each other and marveling in the wonder of one another.

“I never expected someone as delicate and gentle,” Loki admits in a soft whisper, “to love me.” His hand softly moves to caress her hair. She tilts her head. 

“But you’re so…” she whispers herself, then unable to finish her thought and sentence, “you are so…” she struggles still. Loki smiles, even daring to chuckle. She looks at him, more disrupted by his laugh, but a small smile playing on her lips anyway, “you are so everything.” She finally says. “Everything I could ever want.”

“What about what you need?” Loki asks, his hand reaching for hers. She laughs, shaking her head.

“I don’t care about what I need as long as I know that my wants are equal to my needs.” She assures. Loki frowns.

“You needn’t throw yourself away for me, love.” 

Y/N leans closer to him. “I have already done that.” She says and gives his cheek a kiss. “I’ll do that and more for you. And not just because you’re handsome, and not just because of you.” She starts to say and Loki raises his eyebrows, curious. “I knew at some point you’d be the one I love, and I’ve waited my whole life for someone I could love, someone I could give everything to.” She leans back up. “And I feel I’ve been made to love, you know, to love another or many. I guess you came along at the right moment. And even while I doubted you ever returning these feelings, even when I was convinced you didn’t feel the same, convinced you hated me. Loving you was enough for me.”

She looks back at him from looking around the whole time and finds Loki with tears in his eyes. “Sorry.” She says. “That just… came out.”

“Do not be sorry.” Loki shakes his head. “That was very beautiful, I think, because it’s the truth and it’s from you. Your heart’s ways are beautiful.” Y/N blushes at his words. Loki’s head then hangs a bit lower. “I was never sure I could be some who you could love. I’m me, and I may call myself a big chaos. I am not easy to love, so you’ve done a great job.”

“Why do you think so?” Y/N asks, now moving to lay in between Loki’s legs, her chin on his chest. Loki raises his eyebrows. “That you’re hard to love.”

“I have done terrible things, my darling… And I’ve lied. A lot.” Loki nods for effect. “And well, I’m the God of Mischief.” They both laugh. Of course he had to mention that, his arrogance does spring out. “So I doubt anyone could trust me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re no good for me.” 

“Took my words, sweet girl.”

“Loki, I love you.” Y/N looks strongly into his eyes. “And we are good for each other.” She says in an angelic voice. “I know you disagree, but I can learn from you.”

“What exactly, darling, lying? Tricks?” Loki suggests with a sly grin.

Y/N laughs. “No.” She says then. “You’ll see.” Y/N rests the side of her face against Loki’s chest, also listening to his heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his torso and Loki’s hands go to hold her arms, almost protectively. Almost as if she’d disappear if he doesn’t hold onto her. “How much time will it take for you to realise your worth?”

____

Bonus material!

Before falling asleep the night before, Loki and Y/N agreed to making sandwhiches together, more so, Y/N teaching him how to actually make those. He complimented her skill and liking for sandwhiches, Y/N had blushed. So here they were, in their pajamas and in the Stark Tower’s kitchen, cutting lettice and ham and cheese all sorts that Loki’d wish to see in a sandwhich. Some combinations seemed strange to Y/N, but she trusted his taste and decided she wouldn’t try those exact ones.

“No, no, stop!” She scolds in a shushed whisper, with a smile playing on her lips. “Those are too narrow. Salad needs to be big, you know, with volume. Great size!” She decoratively growls at the last two words.

“Like myself.” Loki says and chuckles.

“Yes, mister, thank you for reminding me verbally. This time.” Y/N replies and returns to cutting cheese.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh not-maliciously.” Tony Stark declares in a whisper and takes more nuts from his snack bag. Steve Rogers takes some from the same bag before receiving a slap from Tony for it. 

“Never thought the out-come would be like this.” Steve admits. Both their eyes are hazy while watching Y/N and the god work around in the kitchen. They’re standing in the hallway right where the shadow starts from the kitchen light so the lovers wouldn’t notice them. They won’t be there for a long time, anyway. 

“Who are we watching?” Bucky Barnes asks when he comes up behind them with Natasha, and both grown men squeal in terror from the surprise, Tony dropping his snack bag. Bucky and Natasha burst into uncontrollable laughter while trying to pull the two team leaders further into the hallway to not get noticed. Well, with screams like little girls, that’s a little late.

Loki and Y/N look over their shoulders, spooked from the sound they heard but upon not hearing or seeing anything that could explain it—the former russian assassins did a great job of getting Steve and Tony away—they look at each other and shrug. Then they simply continue their culinary workshop in each other’s company. 

A/N: I really wanna hold Loki like that :/

Permanent tag-list (I hope at least one of you likes Loki :D) : @gabiatthedisco​​​​ @v0idbella​​​​ @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​ @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen​​​​ @stfxlou​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​ @betweenloveandfire​​​​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​@thewinchesterchronicles​​​​ @mavieesttriste16​​​​ @mrsmazzello​​ @benhardyseyes​​​@langdonzvoid​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​ @eddie-spaghetti-boi​​​​@radiantrichie​​​ @terratori812 @urban-dreams​ @shawni-h​

[captainillogical]

Home Ch.2

The domesticity of living with an alien who hasn’t quite had the chance at a normal life.

Distant Lands sequel.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​

The door in front of you is red.

The two of you are standing outside the entrance to, er, what the both of you will now be calling home. It’s.. a strange feeling. You’re excited to be here. And although you’re eternally grateful for the crystal gems for taking you in when you needed it, you’re also happy to be starting a new chapter in your life. 

Pearl should’ve had the last three of your boxes brought up already for you, as you didn’t really feel like doing that all yourself all the way up to the 9th floor if you’re honest with yourself. Your body is still pretty sore in general, especially your legs.

You watch Spinel pull keys out of her pocket and go for the door. 

"Why weren't those in your gem?" You ask as she fumbles with said keys in hand. "I didn't even know you had pockets.."

"Sometimes I forget." She furrows her eyebrows, a bit of her tongue peeking out as she squints, trying to get the key into the deadbolt right. It's kind of comical. "Don't act like you're expecting me to lose 'em already."

"Eh." You shrug, and watch her struggle for a couple more seconds. "Did you want help with that, orrrr,"-

She opens the door, interrupting your sentence with an enthusiastic whoop, and you can see the formidable stack of boxes in the small living room. You take one last look at the long sprawling hallway and the many, many doors on this floor and wonder what your neighbors are like.

"Are 'ya gonna just stand out there or what?" She says from inside the doorway. Looking a bit further down the hall, you can see that one of the doors has several strange notes taped to it - as if there's some sort of weird neighborly interaction going on there.

One of the other front doors opens just as Spinel wraps her hand around your wrist, and she nearly yanks you into the apartment. She slams the door shut behind you almost forcefully.

"You're not even gonna let me introduce myself to the neighbors?" You say, like you had any intention other than to snoop a little. Spinel fixes you with a look. It makes you feel a little giddy when she looks at you like she’s full of impatient affection, which makes you want to be a little obtuse on purpose.

"You can do that later." She folds her arms in slight irritation that you can definitely see in her eyes. "I've been wanting you alone for what feels like weeks now."

"You're a little dramatic," You walk further into the living room, taking note of the small deck outside the sliding glass doors. "It's only been a few days, and we've texted."

“I’m not, and you and I both know that it ‘ain’t the same.” She says from behind you, following you closely. You’re pretending you have no idea what she’s talking about.

You take a peek inside the small kitchen, and you love it. It’s cute. Gems don’t need to eat or store food, but these particular apartments have small amenities in place, as well as a bathroom and bedroom just to keep up with building code. You think it’s kind of hilarious that regular city ordinance gets a say in how aliens should build things, and you kind of wish you were present for the meetings that Bismuth had to have had with them.

You open the fridge, and realize nothing is in there. Oh, right. Of course. You don’t know what you were expecting.

Closing the fridge door, you feel a presence next to you and turn to realize that Spinel is RIGHT there. Like, maybe six inches from your face.

“What,” You say, feeling your heartbeat pick up a little. She’s watching you expectantly, as if she’s waiting for something. “Am I not allowed to check out our place? You’ve already been here for the last few days.”

She takes a half step closer, and grabs your face with the both of her hands to kiss you.

Ah. 

Her lips are soft. 

You won’t lie, you’ve been thinking about her like this on a constant feedback loop ever since the both of you confessed your feelings. 

You exhale out your nose and tilt your head enough to deepen the kiss, and she hums against your lips. She slides down one of her hands to the small of your back, and presses you flush against her, almost possessively. Your face heats up a little at the lack of space between you two.

Your phone dings twice in your pocket, and Spinel makes some kind of displeased sigh against your mouth as if you were even going to answer it. One of your hands finds its way to the side of her face, and you trail it over to the edges of her hairline just to touch more of her. She leans into it automatically. Her hair is soft to the touch, and you wish you could run your fingers through it. 

The hand on your back is searingly hot through the shirt you're wearing, and you can only focus on that and the sensation of her lips on yours.

Your phone dings three more times, and Spinel growls impatiently, and well, that certainly doesn’t do anything to you, no sir.

She pushes you against the fridge, and you’re extremely embarrassed about the groan that comes out of your mouth - she doesn’t seem to care because she’s kissing you a lot more forcefully now. It’s like she can’t keep her hands off you. 

“Spinel,” You pull away to breathe, lips wet. She goes right for your neck.

“What?” She hisses against your skin, and you shudder. A gloved hand slides up your shirt.

“I should probably run to the store for a grocery trip before it closes, there’s no food here and I’d like to eat this week.”

She pulls her mouth away from your skin, and your neck feels a little exposed.

“Can’t we do that tomorrow?” She sighs, giving you another look.

“If I wanna starve tonight, sure.” You reply, deadpan. It's not like you actually want this to stop..

“Uggghhhhhhhhhh FINE.” She rolls her eyes, and removes herself from you like it’s the worst thing to ever happen to her. “But we’re continuin’ this later.”

“You mean I’M continuing this later,” You poke her right in the gem, and she glares at you. Her cheeks tint a darker pink, and you find yourself grinning. “If I have anything to say about it, anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?” She replies, lowering her eyes at you in a way that makes the little hairs on your neck stand up. 

“Maaaaaybe.” You side step her, walking back towards the living room before you decide that actually yeah, maybe fucking her in the kitchen is a great idea right now. 

“I hate the tone you’re using.” 

“Why, does it make you nervous?” You open one of your boxes of clothes, looking for a sweater to wear out. A specific one. The one with the strawberries on the front. 

“No, you’re just smug.” She says, and you bark out a laugh.

You can’t find the sweater you want, which means you put it in a non-clothing box, or you left it at Steven’s. Ugh. Actually most of the clothes you’re rifling through kind of smell weird even though they should be clean. You shrug, coming to the conclusion you’ll also have to do laundry tonight.

“Do we have a washing machine?” You ask her. She looks at you a little confused.

“A what?”

“Y’know, like for washing my clothes. These smell funky and I’d like to wear something tomorrow.” You open one of your regular boxes, but it’s just filled with books. Many, many books.

“Oh! Yeah, Bis mentioned something about there bein’ one on the first floor. Although, I wouldn’t exactly mind ‘ya not wearing anything tomorrow.” She grins, canines shining in the low light of the apartment. 

“I’m not walking around naked, idiot.” You sigh at her, trying to keep your blush at bay. She’s so blunt with her affections now that you don’t really know how to deal with it. “Let’s just go to the store and get it over with.”

You grab your bag, making sure you have your wallet on you, and the both of you head out the door.

Spinel locks the door behind you, and the both of you make your way back down to the base level via elevator.

-

There’s a nearby market that’s still open for the next two hours, and the two of you end up walking there as it’s only a couple of blocks away. 

You look over at the neon sign saying ‘Open’ with the hours listed, and can see quite a few people and gems inside. Eugh. You were kind of hoping it wouldn’t be busy at like, 7pm, but here we are.

“I hope this won't take too long,” You head inside, Spinel trailing next to you. “I don’t even think you have toilet paper, so I’m gonna have to get quite a few things.”

“Toilet paper?” 

“Exactly my point.” You look around, seeing the cash registers at the front and the produce section immediately to your right. It’s.. a little loud in here.

Spinel is looking around in curious wonder, staring pretty hard at some of the sale display signs with obnoxious print.

You grab one of the carts off to the side, and make a beeline directly for the toiletries section, because you don't want to forget anything like you usually do.

"Hey! Don't leave me behind," You feel a hand grab yours, Spinel jogging briefly to catch up with you. "Why are 'ya being so fast? We've got time."

"Sorry, stores make me a little anxious when they have quite a few people in them," You narrowly avoid a few teenagers joking loudly and passing next to you. "I hate busy places."

"They ain't so bad. It's kinda lively." She replies, squeezing your hand. 

You pass four different aisles until you get to the one you're aiming for, having to maneuver around a couple gems that are in the way. You catch one of them looking pointedly to the hand you're holding with Spinel, and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach lurch a little. 

You hate shopping.

You stop your cart in the toothbrush area, because you might as well get a new one as well as some toothpaste.

"Ooooooooh." Spinel reaches out beside you, grabbing one of those sonic kids brushes with all the lights. "What does this do?"

You grab what you need, throwing it in your cart and looking at your girlfriend (even just referring to her like this inside your head makes you unbelievably giddy) who's.. intensely studying the characters on the toothbrush. She presses the button in the middle, and the whole thing lights up and starts playing music. Her eyes go wide.

"Is this some 'kinda torture device?" She pokes the spinning bristles, eyebrows shooting up inquisitively. She then presses it against her face, and her reaction to it is immediate unpleasantness, and you laugh at her.

"It just cleans your teeth, weirdo." You grab it from her, turning the annoying music off and placing it back onto the shelf. "Although, I bet I could find a way to torture someone with it."

"Let's test it on Peridot." She grins, eyes a little gleeful.

"Do you really want to try her? See what she's capable of?" You ask her, trying to stifle your laughter.

"Oh, jeez, 'ya probably right. Pretty sure she'd tie me to a chair and make me watch reruns with her." She answers disdainfully. “Maybe Lapis, then.”

“If you want to drown, sure.”

She continues to peer at the many kid’s toothbrushes on this shelf, and you walk a couple feet over to grab shower supplies. You toss a couple more objects into your cart, nabbing a pack of toilet paper as well and tossing it in.

“What’s this?” You hear her ask, and when you turn to glance at her she’s got a bottle in her hand. It looks like some ibuprofen or tylenol.

“Painkillers. Toss that in the cart will you?”

“It.. kills pain?” She stares at the bottle. “Why do humans need doctors if they have this?”

“They only temporarily ease pain. Mainly for headaches and a sore back and stuff.”

“You meatbags come up with some weird stuff, there’s so many different types..” She grabs another couple bottles, squinting at them and them placing them back on the shelf.

“Yeah, well us meatbags had to create solutions to make our lives a little less awful.” You roll your eyes at her terminology. “Not that I’d expect a fucking rock to understand.”

“A fucking rock,” Her mouth is agape in offence, and she crosses her arms in a huff. It’s so fucking cute. “At least I don’t gotta eat.”

“You could. I bet you’d liiiiiike it.” 

“Yeah I’m ‘gonna pass on that one.” She scrunches her nose, as if the thought is wholly unappealing. You want to laugh.

“You liked sex.” You say bluntly, giving her a knowing look. She sputters, cheeks turning a much darker shade of pink.

“Shut upppppp! We’re in public, Y/N!” She glares at you, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning. 

A couple turns their cart into the aisle you’re in, and you decide to say nothing further.. For now.

You push your cart out of the aisle, Spinel instantly grabbing for your hand again. You like that she just does it whenever she wants to. 

You’re in the refrigeration section, and there’s a couple people here much to your displeasure. Some lady is loudly talking on the phone with one of her kids on speaker, and you glare a couple daggers her way even if she can’t see it.

Side-stepping a gem, you grab a block of cheese and some butter and you’re looking at the eggs when Spinel scoots right up to your side. She places her chin on your shoulder, and watches you open a carton to check the contents. The gesture has your heart doing a couple flips inside your ribcage.

“What ‘cha doooooin?” She inquires quite cutely, and you realize this probably looks weird to her.

“Trying to get a full, non cracked container of eggs.” You state. She grabs one from the open container you’re looking at. “Careful, only the outside is hard. The inside is kinda fluid-like.”

She squints at it in her palm. “That sounds disgusting. You eat these things like this? ‘Aint that crunchy?”

“You don’t eat it raw, normally.” You shoot her a quick look, and she’s looking at the egg like its existence disturbs her. “Most people cook them or add them to other things for consistency. Stop being so judgemental.”

“I’m not being judgemental..” She mutters, placing the egg back into your carton. This one’s got an egg that looks like it’s about to crack so you decide to put it back on the shelf. The woman talking on the phone near you howls out a laugh. “That lady sure is ‘annoying.” Her breath tickles your neck, and you hold back a shudder. 

“Yeah, I hate people like her. It’s fucking rude honestly.” You mutter back, grabbing a different carton. The last three had eggs missing, weirdly enough. Are people just taking single eggs and sticking them in their pockets? “Like how hard is it to just place it against your ear? Why do the rest of us give a shit about what you’re eating for brunch tomorrow?” Spinel chuckles, vibrating against your shoulder. “I ever tell ‘ya that you’re amusing?”

“No, but I’ll remember that next time you call me unfunny.” This carton has all eggs intact inside, so you place it gently into your cart. 

“Psssshhh.” She replies, and you move over to grab a half gallon of milk. You open the door to where all the milk is refrigerated, and Spinel makes a weird noise of disgust. “What the fuck is that? Why’s it white?”

“It’s just milk.” You give her a look. “And it’s white because of the proteins, chill. It comes from cows.” You point to the cow on the carton of 2% you’re buying. “Fucking judgey-ass gems..”

“That animal is in there??” She makes a face. “You guys are so weird.”

“No, idiot,” You laugh, trying to not lose your shit at her conclusions. You point to the udder. “They produce it, it’s not their flesh. Humans can do it too..”

“Can you do it?” She stares at you strangely.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You say, not wanting at all to elaborate on this and she barks out a laugh. You put the milk in the cart.

You’re in the bread aisle trying to figure out what kind of bagels you want, and Spinel is.. deeply studying the colorful bag clips hanging off the display strip on the side. You hear her grabbing the package and snapping the clips like crab claws, and you can’t help but snicker a little to yourself. 

She doesn’t seem to notice when you wander off to the other short bread aisle, because there's a few more options here that you want to look at. You missed bread so much that you’re feeling like you could eat all of them.. So you grab three different kinds to toss in the cart.

“Y/N?” You hear shuffling from the other aisle, and the rising panic in Spinel’s tone. “Where’d you go..?”

You walk back over to where you left her, and she looks slightly stressed out. She makes eye contact with you and visibly relaxes immediately.

“Sorry, I was just grabbing something from the other side.” You say to her, and her hand shoots out to grab onto your arm. “I wasn’t going to leave you, if that’s what you’re worried about..”

You raise an eyebrow, and she rubs the back of her head, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I know it’s irrational.”

You move your hand to lace your fingers with hers in comfort, palm fitting nicely against it. She seems a little taken aback with your gesture, but she doesn’t say anything by it.

“It’s not irrational.” You squeeze her hand, and seeing no one else around you, you lean in to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Y/N!” She hisses, looking around the aisle frantically as a small blush forms on her face. She places her other hand against where you kissed, like it’s somehow sacred. “In public?!”

“It’s not like there’s anyone around to see,” You can’t help the grin forming on your face. The lines on her cheeks look a little bolder with how flustered she is, and honestly? If you could pepper her face in kisses right now, you would. You’ve got this overwhelming amount of affection you’d like to give her, with nowhere to put it. Not until later, anyway. “God, you should see your face. It’s cute.”

“Will ‘ya shut up?!” She pointedly looks away from you, and you laugh. “I’m not cute.”

“I’ve got loads of proof that you are, but okay.” You give her hip a little bump, and her face looks back to yours to shoot out a glare that you’re not intimidated by in the least.

“Yeah, like what.”

“You know..” You trail off, and lean in close to the side of her face. You whisper something to her about the other morning, and she chokes, face going completely red. 

“I’m going to KILL you one of these days, Y/N.” She retorts, avoiding your eyes on purpose. You give her another nudge, and you can see her try desperately to stop the grin forming on her face.

“Let me at least finish shopping,” You reply, grabbing your cart to swing around to get a few more things on your mental list.

It doesn’t take that long to get the other staples you need, and before you know it you’re standing in line at checkout. You start placing your items on the belt once the other customer is finally paying, and you watch Spinel as she hilariously just tosses the items out of the cart and onto the conveyor. Ahhhhhh yeah you knew she wasn’t exactly graceful, but still.

“You find everything you need?” The cashier makes small talk with you, as you see her eyebrow raise at Spinel’s heart-shaped gem. Said gem seems utterly fascinated by the clerk’s bagging speed. 

“Yeah.” You politely answer, grabbing for your wallet as you watch the total rise. You maybe need another job, ugh..

Spinel raises an eyebrow and looks like she's about to say something asinine, so you step on her foot lightly to shut her up.

She yelps a little, and glares at you. You stifle a snicker, finishing the transaction so you two can get out of here. 

Once you're done, Spinel makes the effort of just placing the bags of groceries inside her gem conveniently, so you don't have to carry anything the short distance home. 

-

You don't give yourself the chance to relax much though because as soon as you get home and the groceries are put away, you've left Spinel to unpack your stuff as you go do a quick load of laundry.

The elevator dings and you're on the first floor again, hamper in hand. Opening the door to the communal washing room, you see several units here. There’s no one else around, and you’re so glad for that, honestly. Now you can look at memes in peace.

You fit all your clothes in one load thankfully, and you lean against the machine in wait after you fill what you need with soap. The wash cycle shouldn’t take too long, and you’ll go back upstairs briefly to help your girlfriend after you leave it on the drying cycle. You’re maybe in here alone for five minutes when a man and a giant basket of laundry comes in grunting. It’s another human.. You try not to stare too much.

“So, you live here?” He turns to say to you after dumping half his clothes in the machine in front of him. Of course he’s chatty.

“Yeah. Just moved in today.”

“Sweet, another human here! Now I won’t have to feel so alone.” He replies, swiping his brow lightly. He’s a bit older than you with some dark facial hair, and you don’t know how to say this.. He’s just extremely nonthreatening. “I live up on the 5th floor! Convenient for me since I work nearby, and the rent is so cheap..”

“How long have you lived here?” You ask, typing out a reply to Steven’s messages from earlier.

“A few months. It’s not as quiet as I hoped, gems are a bit on the wild side sometimes but everyone’s friendly!” He grins, pouring soap into his machine. “My boyfriend thinks it’s too loud, but he doesn’t pay the rent so he can’t complain. You live here alone?”

A boyfriend, huh? Maybe you can be friends with this guy.

“Nah, I moved in with my girlfriend.” You state, and the man just kinda stares at you for a moment, as he’s putting two and two together, realizing you’re the only two humans in the building.

“Are you dating a gem?” He asks a little apprehensively, and while you think you might be a little offended if someone else asked this way, the look on his face makes it obvious that he’s just extremely curious. “What’s that like?”

“Yes, and uh.” You stop, not knowing exactly how to answer, and the man barks out a laugh at the look on your face.

“You’re the only human I’ve ever met that’s dated a gem. I’m so telling my boyfriend, he’ll freak. He might have a buttload of questions for you next time I see you. Name’s George, by the way.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

“Y/N.” You take his hand to shake it, and the two of you talk for a little while as he asks you a few probing questions.

After ten minutes or so, your load is done and you put it in the dryer, saying your goodbyes to your new human neighbor.

On your way back upstairs, you manage to bump into a gem right as you turn to the hallway into your apartment.

“Oh! Pardon me,” The gem apologises, looking up from their cell phone.

It’s that same Rose Quartz from earlier.

“It’s you!” She says, slightly taken aback, but nonetheless pleased. “What do you happen to be doing here?”

“I live here.” You give her a small smile, and you notice her eyeing you up. Uh.

“That makes me very happy to hear.” She says in a way that kind of makes you a little nervous? 

“Well, it’s nice bumping into you here, I’ll see you around!” You make quick for your door, and she watches you the entire time, smile on her face. 

It gives you a bit of the heebie jeebies.

You slam the door behind you, and Spinel’s excited face greeting you immediately puts you at ease.

[secret-ssociety]

Let me down pt.2

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x reader, reader x oc Warnings: angst???, curse words, endgame spoilers, interactions that I’m not sure if can be considered fluff Summary: five years have passed and as soon as Peter comes back from the blip he undertakes a search for all that he believed would always be there, but he’ll find that many things are not as he left them A/N: I really want to apologize for how long this took, but between lack of creativity and the fact the Tumblr didn’t save the draft when I was just about to finish it, it’s finally here. Also, this will have a part three, so behold.

Masterlist

part one

Peter looked around with unease, all the people from his school that had been bliped, like himself, were sitting in the gym while the new headmaster talked, saying something about how the school’s major priority was to integrate those who had to finish their studies with the ones that were already studying, but he hardly listened a single word.

Everyone, all of his friends and some people he never really talked to, had dull expressions, all of them looked tired, all of them looked like they had been crying a lot in the past weeks, all of them were pale and had huge bags under their eyes as if they hadn’t slept in ages, and Peter knew he was no exception. 

But he couldn’t find the one dull, tired, cried-out, sleep deprived, pale face he wanted to see.

He was staring at you in the school bus when everything started, when he needed to create a distraction to jump off the bus. It had been a year since you had broken up, the most painful year of his life, and he still hadn’t been able to fall out of love with you, the way you laughed, the way you talked, the way rolled your eyes at a stupid comment and the way you fiddled with the cross hanging from your neck.

If only he had only known that was the last time he was going to see you before everything went to hell. And now they were back, everyone. Peter felt a void in his chest, a constant sadness he couldn’t seem to shake, but he knew that when he saw you in the assembly the school had called, at least something in his life would be okay.

The problem was that you weren’t at the assembly.

“Hey, dude, have you seen Y/N?” he asked Flash, who was sitting next to him, in a whisper, he received an apologetic look “No, I’m sorry” Flash whispered back, too morally tired to mock him “maybe she transferred or decided not to come, a lot of people did.”

Peter sighed and waited patiently for the assembly to be over, he would ask someone later what the headmaster had said, right now all he needed was to go to the one place he would be able to get some answers. He practically ran to the secretary’s office, just to find in there a girl he had shortly known, a year older than him, except that now she was on her twenties.

“Hi, Peter” she smiled seeing him, “hi, Jess” he answered without hiding his surprise “how are you?” he stilted her head looking at him and Peter almost whined at the tone she had used to ask that question, already used and sick of it, but kept his smile “I’m fine, thank you. I actually wanted to ask about a friend that I didn’t see in today’s assembly, maybe you could tell me if they transferred or just didn’t come..”

“Yes, of course. What’s the name of your friend?”

“Y/N” he responded sadly and Jess’ head jumped to look at him. She adjusted her glasses awkwardly “Peter, she’s already graduated,” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed “what do you mean?” he asked and she sighed “well, y’know, when what we know happened and some people vanished... some of us didn’t. Y/N was one of them, us.”

Peter fell silent. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know what would’ve hurt the most. So many questions started to build up in his head while a heaving feeling installed in his chest.

“D-do you know where can I find her?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

Jess sighed and took off her glasses, looking at him with sorry in her eyes “I’m not allowed to share that kind of information.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need this job.”

“Jess, come one.”

“Peter, I can’t.”

“Is this because of what happened with Liz?”

Jess blinked. “Do you seriously think I’m reprimanding you for something that happened nearly six years ago?”

“... Maybe?”

He leaned into her desk with pleading eyes “please, I’m begging you,” Jess sighed for what felt like the hundredth time “as a secretary I can’t tell you that” Peter sighed with a nod and started to make his way towards the door defeated “but as friend asking for a favor” he turned around quickly as she looked around her office and grabbed the first she saw “I’m kind of busy tonight and I was supposed to take this, uh, house plant to this address” he saw her scribble something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him with an accomplice smile.

“Thanks, Jess” he said quickly taking the house plant in his hands.

“Thank you, Peter,” he nodded and exited the office, stopping at the door when she called him “And, uh, Peter... go there with an open mind.”

That advice confused him but he was far too happy to even think about it.

To say that he spent the next couple hours overthinking is a serious understatement. What was he going to say? What could he say after five years? Should he bring some flowers, maybe? But why flowers, when he was already bringing a house plant? Wait, was he actually supposed to bring the house plant or had it just been Jess’ alibi to suply him the address?

He wasn’t going to go. He couldn’t go. What if you still hated him? The blip was still so recent and you had probably reencountered with other people who had also been bliped, showing up at your house would be too much of a shock. Yeah, no, it was a bad idea. He would wait until everyone was chill. It was too soon.

I’ll just wait a couple days, there’s no hurry, he thought and he was sure it was the perfect approach to the situtation. Yeah, that was what he was going to do, wait. That was, at least, until Ned texted him and told him to get his shit together.

With that motivation he found himself, half an hour later, in Brooklyn standing in front of a white house with the house plant in his hands. Given the size of it, it was a family house surrounded by a beautiful garden, full of plants that required a pretty low maintenance. That was the confirmation Peter needed to know it was your house.

He knocked the door so softly he feared whoever was inside woudn’t listen, not even bothering to look for a doorbell. Almost a minute after, when he was debating between knocking again or leaving, the door opened and he choked on his own breath. It couldn’t be you. I mean, of course it was you, he could recognize you anywhere. But it wasn’t the Y/N he remembered.

Your hair was longer, falling down your shoulders like a waterfall, your body had long ago abandoned its awkward teenage years and now, while young, it was more adult. But your face, the place he stared longily. It was still your nose, your soft skin, your vibrant eyes, everything was the same but with the difference that you were obviously in your early twenties. He realized that, stupidly, his brain hadn’t really thought about the fact that if five years had passed, then you would be five years older.j

“P-Peter?” you dared to ask quietly, not because you didn’t recognize him but as a confirmation that it was really him, standing in front of you.

He opened his mouth to say yes but found a tight not in the middle of his throat that made him understand that he would break down if he tried to talk, so he just nodded.

Quickly you stepped forward to wrap him a hug and his arms didn’t doubt finding place in our waist. Your eyes were full of tears that started to get released when you felt him hide his face on your neck. It was him, how could it be?

After a couple minutes you pulled away and looked at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You were tempted to ask what was he doing there, but you didn’t want to be rude, so you asked the next thing that came to your mind “what’s with the house plant?”

“Oh, yeah” he remembered “Jess said she couldn’t make it tonight,” seeing the confusion that took over your face he nodded “so it was the alibi, then.” You wanted to ask what did he mean by alibi, what did Jess had to do with anything, what was he doing in your house, how did he know where your house was, but again that would be rude, so you invited him to come in.

Peter’s knot untangled as soon as he stepped inside the house, finding himself draped over that familiar sense of security he used to feel when he came down to your room after patrolling. Maybe you just had that effect over spaces. The place was warm and welcoming, wooden floors, a fake fireplace and a wide couch covered by a couple blankets, among other things, he found in the living room while you walked to the kitchen.

Your head was spinning. How had this happened? What was happening? What was Peter Parker doing in your house looking the exact same as the last time you saw him after being missing for five years? You weren’t oblivious to the blip, many of your friends and family had been blipped and you had already talked to them, but still you were confused. You felt like you had all the answers, and yet you had none.

“You want something?” you asked making your way to the living room, his eyes looked in your direction and fell in the glass of white wine resting in your hand with an all too familiar sparkle “can I have some of what you’re drinking?” you suppressed a chuckle because of how child-like that question had been.

“I’ll need to see your ID” you answered before coming back to the kitchen and taking out of the fridge a Capri Sun. He pouted slightly when he saw the drink but grabbed without complaining. You sat beside him on the couch, complete silence upon the room.

“Well, this is awkward” you said after a couple minutes, taking a sip of your wine and he let out a chuckle “it’s not like there’s a manual of what to say to your ex boyfriend when he shows up in your porch after five years still being eighteen while you’re... old” he says and you kick him playfully “I’m twenty-three.”

“How are you holding up?” you asked, knowing that the current situation of the world was probably more painful for those who had been lost, “I’ll be better when everyone stops asking me that” he said harshly before being able to stop himself. He looked at you, expecting to see you taken back by his bitter response but you were looking at him fondly, almost motherly.

“I know it must be annoying to be surrounded by people that don’t know how to express their concern” you said, picking your words in your head “but like you said, there’s no manual on how to approach the situation” he nodded in understanding “I’m sorry,” you nudged him softly, as saying that it was okay.

“How’s the readjustment?” you decided to ask, remembering that Peter had never been one to like complaisance. He sighed. “Well, there’s no manual” he joked “May was also blipped, so I guess that makes it easier.”

“I feel lost” he continued “it’s the same world, but at the same it just... isn’t. I’m the same person and at the same time, someone completely different” without noticing, you had drank all the wine in the glass in just one gulp, “you should see how May is doing, decorating the apartment and trying to learn how to cook, again, and it sucks” he started to talk faster “because she is trying so hard to bring her life together and I’m just... stumbling.”

None of you said anything, so silence fell upon the room once again, except this time it wasn’t comfortable, but a comfort born from a past intimacy that allowed to be quiet. “What’s going to happen with Spider-Man?” you finally asked.

“I have no fucking idea” he said, “I don’t think the world needs him anymore. Christ, I don’t even know if the world wants it anymore!” he sighed and placed the untouched Capri Sun of the coffee table, and once again silence established until you talked again, “I think it does.” He looked at you, confused.

“People felt safe with you patrolling the streets and they felt proud” you sighed “I think you should go back to it, eventually. Not necessarily demon-slaughter Spider-Man, but friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Peter rubbed his face “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I know you do, you’ve had it in you since day one” you replied quickly. “You are entitled to your pain for as long as you need to feel it, but you’re the only person who gets to decide if your trauma is going to be the biggest part of your life. Pete, Spider-Man is part of who you are” he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were fixed on the floor below his feet “you can’t just dispose it and you know it.”

Peter looked at you with half a smile “did you grow into a wise old man in the last few years?” your shrugged with a joking smile “kind of.” You both laughed and it relieved you a little to see Peter do it. “So do you live here by yourself?” he asked looking around and your frowned a little, but the door opened before you could respond.

Peter’s heart dropped when he saw a tall, handsome man make his way into the house with a couple grocery bags on his hands. Right behind him a smaller human sprinted in your direction squeaking a loud “mommy!” 

You couldn’t help the smile that fell upon your face when you saw her with her new hoodie and her long hair falling down her shoulders, despite all the effort you had poured into a ponytail that morning. Lovingly you placed her in your lap and tucked a strand of her behind her ear before looking at Peter “Pete, this is Claire, my-”

“Daughter” he finished before you, looking at her with a big smile but teary eyes.

“And Mark” you pointed at the man making her way to you from the kitchen, having placed the bags in the counter, “my husband.” Peter felt his heart break, even you had broken up a year ago (six for everyone else), but still he stood up and shook Mark’s hand. “This is Peter” you introduced “he’s an old friend.”

How had he not seen it? The wedding ring on your finger and all the photos of your new family spread across the living room, the fact the house was clearly a family house, that reality had been all over his face since the moment he set a foot in the house and, yet, he had managed to miss it. That was what Jess had meant when she told him to come with an open mind, she hadn’t been able to find the words to tell him that you were married and had a child.

“Do you like Spider-Man?” he asked with a kind smile to the little girl who looked at him curiously, noticing that the hoodie she was wearing had a draw of him on his first suits. The child’s face light up at the question “yeah, he’s the best!”

He chuckled “I like Spider-Man, too” he murmured, still loud enough to be heard. Claire jumped from your lap and grabbed his leg, "do you want to see my Spider-Man’s Uno edition?” Peter’s eyes widened “there’s an Spider-Man’s Uno edition?”

“Mom, can I show Peter the Uno?” she asked you and you nodded with a soft smile. Practically running, she pulled Peter upstairs towards her room “it was a limited edition, so I made Mum and Dad camp with me outside the store” she told him happily.

Once in the kitchen, stocking the groceries, you broke the silence between Mark and you “he’s my ex.” He looked at you, trying to seem casual “I wasn’t going to ask,” you laughed “yes, you were. You were just trying to find the words to do it without sounding toxic.”

“Okay, you caught me” he admitted and you chuckled “so... you used to date twelve-year-olds before we met?” you looked at him raising an eyebrow “why? Is it a deal breaker?” you joked and he smiled “kind of, I’ll worry when Claire starts inviting friends over” he followed on and didn’t talk again until your laughs faded “he was blipped, wasn’t he?”

You nodded “I just... when I opened that door, he looked so worn-out and lost,” you started saying before he shook his head and wrapped his arms around your waist “you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s okay. I saw that look on my brothers too, the world is a... strange place for him right now, yet he looked for you. He trusts you and I know you care about him, whatever the reason.” 

“I love you” you said, "I knew you’d understand.” He leaned down to give you a kiss, but Claire’s hurried steps, with Peter following closely behind, interrupted you. “Can Peter stay for dinner?” she asked, while the teenager’s eyes fell on your embrace and felt a bittersweet feeling.

“Do you want to, Pete?” you asked looking at him, “I don’t want to intrude” he said shyly, “you’re not intruding, Peter,” Mark said with a smile “we did buy ice cream for dessert, a guest is the perfect excuse” an amused smile. “You what?” you asked.

Peter laughed at the look you were sending your husband, and nodded, despite the weight on his heart.

taglist: @eridanuswave @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @lovely-geek @princessdancingonthesunshine​ @marvel4geeks​

[starrybumbles]

Home Sweet Home

CHAPTER 1: Riverdale

Sweet Pea x Reader

Canon-Divergence.

Summary: In a world so big, how were you stuck in such a tiny town?

Word Count : 1877

Author’s Note: Hi guys! This is my first piece of writing I’m putting out so hopefully it’s good lol. I’m not even caught up with Riverdale tbh, and that’s bc there’s so little Sweet Pea. Back to the point though, I would love your guys’ review on this (:

           Moving away from California was the last thing you wanted to do. It was your home- your safe place. So many good things happened there and now... it was miles away. The trees blurred into a green blob, right up until you decided to focus on one. Then it seemed to go in slow motion. A sigh escaped your lips, eyes flickering up to the rearview mirror. The backseat- along with the trunk- was filled with your bags. It left little room to actually use the mirror for what it’s meant for. But then again, no one was rushing to stay at the ‘town with pep’. (It was anything but.)

“It’ll be fine.” Your mom’s hand came to rest on your own. “Think of this as a fresh start.”

“I didn’t want a fresh start.” 

There was a pause. The words had flown out faster than you could stop them. They left a bad taste in your mouth- complaining wasn’t something you liked to do. This whole move wasn’t your mom’s fault; people were shit and liked to shit on others. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know what you’re feeling. But I really do think you’ll be happier here.”  

As another silence hung over you both, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was true. Your life back in California was like a dream. You had a good group of friends, a best friend, and a place where you felt good and safe. It was a scene ripped right from the movie screen. But heading to Riverdale gave you a whole new perspective and you couldn’t say you liked it. 

The sun beat down your back as you pulled the rest of the suitcases out of the trunk. You could already feel the sweat building up on your neck. Even in Riverdale you couldn’t beat Summer’s heat- go figure. With three bags in your left and a suitcase in your right, you stepped back to let your mom shut the trunk. Your eyes wandered over to the park’s sign, dingy from years of standing. 

Sunnyside Trailer Park. Low Rates- No Pets- Swimming Pool.

A painted sun beamed with yellow and red rays right above the words. A line, the same shade of red, ran right through the second set below. 

Many times you’ve been here through the years and you couldn’t say anything has changed. A small smile spread across your face. The outside of the trailers were tinged with dust and dirt. Only one mattered, though, and that one was just a few feet away. A little wooden staircase leads up to the door. Trash bins were lined up on the left, while an isolated box stood on the other. It was familiar- so familiar you already knew what the inside looked like. But it wasn’t home. 

You walked up to the box and lifted a lawn gnome, grimacing at the rust on it. It was such an obvious place to hide a key. Your mother walked up behind you, groaning about how she should have thrown away more shoes. ( “You never know if I need them,” she’d said.) 

You trudged up the stairs and opened the door, settling your luggage to the side. To your right was the living room, set with all the essentials. To the left was the kitchen. You purse your lips before turning. 

“Hey, mom,” you called out. “You think uncle would mind if I munched on something?” 

Her voice echoed from the bathroom. “I don’t think so! Just munch, though. I think we should go to Pop’s and get something.” 

With that, you practically ran towards the kitchen. The cool air of the fridge hit you, a sigh of relief escaping. The feeling quickly fell as you saw nothing in there that would satisfy your hunger. You’d thought the fridge would be stocked considering your cousin was such a foodie. How did he get by like this? You closed the door, puffing out at the disappointment. Guess you’d have to wait for diner food. “So, uh.. when exactly are we going there?”

You watched your mom round the corner. “Soon. Uncle will be here soon.”

And, low and behold, your uncle walked through the door within the next few minutes. He wore a tired grin as he opened his arms toward you. Stepping away from the fridge, you wrapped your arms around him. His stubble scratched the top of your head. You murmured a little hello and your uncle returned it. That smile was still on his face as he greeted your mom. 

“It’s good to see you, Forsythe.” 

“Why don’t you ever use FP?” He groaned, holding her at arm's length. “I hate that name.” 

“Well, it's your name.” She rolled her eyes, patting his shoulder. Your mom was the older one out of the two and she made sure everyone knew. 

Despite the complaints from FP, you knew he wasn’t that bothered by it. Family was everything with you guys, even when you lived across the country. The constant contact with each other over the years kept that bond strong. It made you wish being here was under different circumstances. 

The two adults shared a look before nodding. Your eyes shifted to the half empty coffee pot on the stove, left untouched since the morning. Of course your uncle knew about what happened in California. You figured the talk would happen later- out of earshot for you. A part of you hoped you’d be included, while another didn’t want to talk about it. 

A buzzing noise reached your ears. You fumbled to get your phone from the back of your pocket. The screen lit up, soliciting a smile at the text. B/F Name, your best friend, had been texting you since you left. You missed her a lot. Never have you been so far away. Biting your lip, your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you responded. Maybe you would call her later if she wasn’t busy. 

“Y/n, fix yourself. We’re gonna leave.” 

You nodded without looking up at your mom and moved to the only bathroom in the trailer. The text was sent with a ‘ttyl’. 

Looking in the mirror, you locked eyes with your reflection. Bags hung under your eyes. They weren’t noticeable unless you were trying to spot them. You ran a hand over your face, taking a deep breath. Fresh start- that’s what this was. A new page to write whatever you wanted. You clicked your tongue, then sighed. 

_____________

Make the most of this, you thought, and nodded at your reflection before throwing the door open. 

The smell of burgers hit you as soon as the three of you entered. Despite its years, Pop’s looked as good as ever. The floor was checkered with black and grey, the booths a bright red with silver padding covering the top. On the walls were several decorations, many being old photos. Even the people here fit the fifties-esque aesthetic of the diner. 

At the register, your mom stood with your uncle, waving you over. A smile graced her lips, her hand reaching out to place itself on your back. Behind the metal table was a big man wearing an apron and a hat that had Pop’s Chock’Lit Shoppe printed on both. His smile reflected your mom’s. It took you a second before recognizing him. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Y/n L/n. Look at you all grown up.” His voice was as warm as an apple pie fresh out of the oven. 

You returned his smile, waving at Pop before shoving it back into the pocket of your jeans. “Hi. Been a few years,” you said. 

“It certainly has. I’m glad to see you back.” 

Pop nodded to both you and your mom before ushering you to find a seat. You followed the two adults down the line, feeling a bit awkward as you trailed behind. You could feel stares of other customers as you passed by. You kept your eyes trained ahead. 

Pop had come by to take your orders and within that time, you found that your uncle worked there in his free time. 

“So I’m hearing free milkshakes?” You grinned, eyebrows shooting up. 

Your mom snorted. “Or maybe she could get a job and pay for them.” 

FP nodded, pointing a finger at her. You gave them both accusatory glances. 

“I’d like an extra hand around here.”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t try to get hired, but we just moved here! I need a little time to adjust.” 

You slumped against the seat, and picked up a fry. Working at Pop’s didn’t sound like such a bad thing- you had at least a little experience under your belt. You glanced around the diner again, eyeing the empty tables. It shouldn’t be too hard. Turning towards your uncle, you continued, “I just need to get familiar with the place again. Adjust to life in Riverdale first before diving into being the town’s little go-getter.” 

FP snickered. “Alright, kid.” His eyes flickered to the door as the bell attached to it jingled. “Now’s your time to start getting familiar.” 

At his words, you swiveled around to meet Jughead. He looked a little stunned to see you. A second passed before a grin stretched across his face. You made your way toward him. Your arms wrapped around his middle with a squeeze.

 As you pulled away, a group started to push past the doors and stand behind Jughead. You nudge your cousin, then step to the side.  

“Jug,” you hissed when he didn’t follow suit. You gestured to the group, and when you made eye contact with the tall one you gave a smile. “Sorry for him.”

The one at the head narrowed his eyes at you. He crossed his leather clad arms over his torso, and you noticed that they all had the same jacket on. Jughead took a step back towards them, glancing at the tallest before switching back to you. It was then that you saw the same jacket on him that everyone else had. A small “oh” formed on your mouth as your brain connected the dots. 

“Are you guys having some sort of club meeting?”

Jughead scoffed, shaking his head at your ridiculous question. “No, it’s…” 

As he trailed off, his eyes shifted to something behind you. 

“A.. project.”

Right, you thought. A project for what?

You wanted to ask. It was so obvious that he was lying about whatever this was. Yet your lips didn’t move. And you knew why. There was a lot that happened back in your old town; stuff that you’d rather keep in the dark. Even from Jughead whom you were close with. Maybe this lie was his way of telling you he wanted to keep this to himself. So you’ll let it slide… for now. 

Two of the others looked to Jughead. The third one stared hard at you-- the tall one that you’d consider cute if he didn’t have such a mean mug. To avoid his gaze, you turned your back and waved the little group over. You all squished into a booth in the corner of the diner. Menus were passed around as Jughead grinned. 

“Let’s eat!”

[irwintry]

11 Reasons Not to Fall in Love

Warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol

Summary: Ashton is in love, and Y/N might be, too. There are a million reasons not to fall in love–– here are eleven.

Word Count: 6.7k

ONE: YOU MIGHT NOT EVEN KNOW IT

Ashton sprinted down the terminal.

His suitcase rattled behind him, the wheels sputtering as they hit the cracks in dirty tiles. And his shoulders ached from the weight of his bag carving into already-sore muscles. A pair of headphones had fallen from his pocket down near gate A3, but he hadn’t bothered to retrieve them. Not when his connecting flight had less than ten minutes until departure. Ashton couldn’t waste another minute apologizing to strangers for slamming into them during a moment of distraction.

Sweat accumulated under his arms and along his hairline. Long corridors awaited him, meanwhile, his lungs strained within his ribcage as he rounded corner after corner. He hadn’t remembered the airport being this large. Perhaps he had slipped into a Twilight Zone nightmare where every doorway led him to where he had once been. Time ticked away, and Ashton was too frantic to check the clock on his phone.

“Final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles. Please make your way to gate D26. That is D for Delta. Again, this is a final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles, located at gate D26. Thank you.”

“Shit,” Ashton spat, his knuckles curling in a firm grip around his duffle. The same duffle his mum gifted him nearly six years ago, yet it still worked like a charm. The duct tape held up well.

His feet skidded against the rug leading into gate D26. He opted out of the dramatics, slowing down his pace and walking calmly around the rows of seating before addressing the gate agents with a smile. They saw plenty of passengers like him–– late, damp, and a bit smelly as well. But that didn’t erase the scowls from their features. He sped down the jet bridge, dropped off his carry-on at the end, and boarded the plane with two minutes to spare.

“Hey, hi, sorry,” he mumbled to the flight attendants, but his breathy words hardly translated through his large gasps for air. It didn’t take him long to find his seat in first class. The large cushions enveloped him like an old friend. He sat back after placing his bag underneath the seat before him, and his eyes fell shut as a sigh left his lips.

Ashton’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

snail butt:

text me when u land!!!!!!

His cheeks burned. A smile stretched slowly on his cheeks, the kind of smile that wrote novels and lit up silver screens. It was a smile that could not be hidden no matter how hard he tried. Ashton’s stomach had been stuck with thousands of pins. And all it had taken was a single text from you.

“Only a fool who’s in love smiles like that.”

Ashton turned to face the person behind the voice, his eyes wide and watery as he shut off his phone. “Excuse me?”

The older man beside him chuckled. “I know a smile like that anywhere.”

“In love?” Ashton repeated, soon falling into laughter himself. “No, no, I’m not––”

The man winked and glanced away, but Ashton chose not to harp on a nonsensical conversation. Instead, he stared at the seat before him, mouth slightly ajar as he registered the older man’s words. Ashton had never been in love, at least he believed it to be so. He had no knowledge of the feeling. So, he rejected what he heard.

He spent the next few hours with his gaze locked on the clouds, wondering if what he felt for you was, perhaps, something a little like love.

TWO: IT’S ONE-SIDE

The lights had flushed out his skin. Every inch of it was warm and wet to the touch, a sensation he knew well but hadn’t quite gotten used to. Even after thousands of shows–– thousands of performances that kicked his adrenaline to new heights only to have it plummet by the time he made it to the showers. Ashton stood against the tiled walls and let the water pelt against his skin. The pressure was never how he liked it. And the water was never hot enough.

He liked to call you after shows. He liked to hear about your day. You told him about the customers that pissed you off and the ones that sweetly tipped you a little too much. You told him that Oatmeal had taken a poo in your bathtub again, and he’d laugh at the thought. He’d think about the faces you’d make, because while you’d be upset one moment, your anger never lasted long. You could never stay mad at your cat.

Ashton had yet to call you tonight. He sat on the bathroom floor instead, fingernails picking at scabs on his palms while the sounds of J. Tillman’s Cancer and Delirium echoed around the room. He didn’t have the option to sit much longer; they had to pack up and drive off to a new town overnight. He always thought about the what-ifs. What if he walked out right then and there? What if he left without saying goodbye? What if he hopped aboard a plane and moved to the other side of the world? What if he cut off all contact with everyone he knew? And, what if that included you?

The thing that scared him the most was the possibility of it all. He could do whatever he wanted. It was his life, his body, his mind–– he had the ability to walk away whenever he so pleased.

He had the ability to forget about you.

Ashton stared at your contact on his phone. A picture from your New Year’s Eve party faced him, your goofy, smiling face staring up at him, happiness permanently immortalized within a small circle. And he wasn’t sure what your contact name meant anymore–– it had been an inside joke from years before, but time stole the memory.

He could delete your number if he wanted. He could rid himself of the pain of loving you by losing you. He could end everything now.

Ashton called you instead.

“You’re eating away at my cellular data,” you said right away, and somehow, the sound of your voice always made him feel better. All of his previous thoughts melted away. “How was the show? How are your bloody hands?”

“Beaten t’hell,” he spoke, but his words felt lifeless. Ashton could no longer identify his exhaustion. He felt like a stale being, like the grimy tiles beneath his bum as he counted scratches on the bathroom mirror. “Tell me about your day.”

“Didn’t do much,” you replied. “Oh, but––“

You talked for a half-hour. About the dentist, about your cat, about the food you ate... and he listened with pleasure. He listened because it was the only thing keeping him from walking away. It kept him from wiping the slate clean.

And he wanted to. He didn’t want to love like this. It was one-sided, trivial in every aspect, and you had no idea how much it pained him to even think about you. His urge to leave it all behind grew larger every day.

You didn’t love him. You didn’t see him the way he saw you.

“Hey, bug,” he mumbled. You had been talking about a Tinder date, one that went oh so right, and Ashton gripped his thigh until he drew blood. His eyes screwed shut at the idea of you piled under bedsheets, arms tied around the neck of someone else. “’m gonna have t’let you go.”

“Aw,” you said.

He pictured your pout.

“Well, okay,” you continued. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Ashton forced a smile. He wished you could see the ache behind it. “Of course, doll. Love you.”

“Love you, too!”

J. Tillman’s voice filled the tile room once again. And Ashton sat wishing your words held meaning. He wished he could erase the casual and fill in sentimentality. Because he now knew what love was, and he knew you would never feel the same.

THREE: THEY LOVE SOMEONE ELSE

His kitchen faucet had been dripping for eleven days. The noise faded into the background, its constant drip, drip, drip like an unspoken rhythm to Ashton’s ears. He found himself tapping along and making up songs to the beat of these drips. They weren’t irksome–– not for the first eleven days.

He was lonely on the twelfth day. Beaten hands pushed back dirty and newly dyed dark strands of hair. Ashton hated looking at his appearance in his bathroom mirror. The dark circles were unfriendly, and he hadn’t seen his skin that sickly color before. He was malnourished at his own expense. And he was exhausted.

Tired of spending all of his nights staying up until four because being home felt like a prison. Tired of looking at pictures of you and your boyfriend while Ashton was stuck wallowing with a sore heart. A sore heart that failed to tell you how he felt sooner. Because now he saw your face when you were with him–– with your boyfriend, and you looked so happy. Ashton couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself.

It seemed as though everything was falling apart at once. The faucet, his relationship with you––or lack thereof, and suddenly his dishwasher was overflowing, and every meal he made he was burnt to a crisp. The twelfth day of his faucet leaking was the last straw.

But Ashton didn’t want to call a plumber. He took the matter into his own hands.

An hour later, he had flooded part of the kitchen and dented a pip with his wrench. The activity hadn’t gotten rid of stress or anger, and it certainly hadn’t distracted him from thoughts about you.

He sat back against his fridge, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks while he avoided the ache in his spine. The leaking had only gotten worse, but Ashton decided he would worry about it on the fourteenth day. He wanted to curl up on his couch and stay there forever. He wanted to rot in his home (was it even his home?) and have everyone forget about him. To have you forget about him. He wanted to forget about you.

snail butt:

hey.

pls answer me

are u ok

Ashton kept the messages open on his phone, but he didn’t respond to them. He wasn’t touched by your concern right now. He felt numb, and he wanted to sink into the tiles and melt in with the puddled water. It wasn’t normal anymore–– to feel this way. He lost himself in the shape of his hands; they no longer looked like his hands. Did he even exist?

snail butt:

ash

can i call

His eyes narrowed. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to talk to you. You were the last person on the earth he wanted to talk to. All because he did want to tell you everything, but he knew he couldn’t. You had always been a constant in his life, and the reason you no longer were had fallen upon his shoulders. Because he had fallen in love when he never meant to in the first place.

Suddenly, you were calling him, and his fingers stayed still. His thumb didn’t move to answer the call.

This wasn’t who Ashton was. He always answered your call no matter where he was, no matter what time of day. His eyes brimmed with tears, yet they refused to spill. No one said love could be this painful. No one said it would be like this.

You called again, a contact picture of you in minion goggles popping up only to disappear a half minute later. Ashton knew he was worrying you. He felt the fear creeping up into your chest while you tapped “voice call” over and over, meanwhile mumbling a few frustrated words involving insults you never meant. You had sensed his change in behavior long ago. He didn’t blame you for forcing communication like this.

That was why he wanted to pack his things and leave sometimes. It was easier than convincing everyone that he was okay.

Ashton:

Hey sorry I missed your call

Can’t talk right now

Love you

FOUR: EVERYONE KNOWS BUT THEM

A familiar feeling filled Ashton’s stomach. It knotted and twisted, but it never loosened. His grip on his phone tightened with every word he read. Knuckles ached while his fingers dug into the metal siding, and tension soon collected in the hinge of his jaw.

This had been his night so far. Stuck in between tables and chairs in the middle of a bar while you texted him about your boyfriend. But Ashton wasn’t mad because of that. His anger boiled because your boyfriend had mistreated you, and Ashton was hearing every little bit about the story.

He believed that he was seconds away from breaking his phone altogether.

“Ashton.”

His head shot up, small curls falling over his eyes as his jaw clenched. A bunch of worried eyes faced him.

“You okay, mate?” asked Michael. His voice was hushed and full of a certain comfort that his friend needed to hear.

Ashton swallowed, and he could feel all of the individual muscles in his cheeks strain. The gray dots on his phone appeared again–– you had more to say. “’m fine,” he spoke. His eyes said otherwise. They were watery and wide, filled with an easily read emotion, yet he hoped his friends would avoid the conversation.

Luke hummed. “Sure.”

“Is she okay?” Michael set his drink down on the table before them.

The words sunk in Ashton’s chest. He appreciated their concern. He appreciated that they cared about you. But he didn’t want to talk about it–– he never did.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Convincing.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” asked Ashton, voice raising in frustration while the sea of eyes blinked back in response. A cold silence met him, but the music in the bar carried on. He sighed. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”

He gripped his forehead and wiped the sweat from his drink onto the table. His fingers trembled as he did so.

“Does she know how you feel?” Michael mumbled.

Ashton raised a brow. “Know how I–– what?” He began to laugh. He felt strange–– like anger was fighting with anxiety, and he knew he could no longer repress his feelings by this point.

“Ash.”

He turned to face Luke.

“It’s obvious,” said the blond. “We’re not stupid. We know you love her. We’ve known for the past like, six months.”

The frustration softened, and soon, Ashton deflated. His shoulders slumped as his frown deepened. “It’s obvious?” he whispered.

“Not that obvious,” Calum intervened. “You jus’–– you get really sad when you get feelings for someone.”

“I’m not––” Ashton straightened his spine. “I’m not sad. We’re fine. She’s fine. We’re both really fine.”

“I’ve never seen you guys this distant before,” Michael said.

“Friends grow apart.”

“Not like this.”

Ashton dug his fingernail into the wooden tabletop.

“Dude,” continued Michael. “You gotta tell her soon. It’s just gonna keep hurting if you don’t. And it’ll keep gettin’ worse and worse.”

“Or maybe it’ll hurt worse if I do tell her,” muttered Ashton.

“So, you do love her?” Luke asked.

Ashton waited a moment to answer. “Yeah.”

Silence washed over the group, and a beat later, Michael asked, “does she love you?”

Ashton stared at a neon sign in the distance. He could hear its buzzing from his seat. It gnawed at his eardrums and wedged itself under his skin. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t.”

FIVE: THEY ARE OBLIVIOUS TO YOUR PAIN

Ashton had been late to his own birthday party. He strolled in after forty minutes, heart heavy while he pushed through sweaty bodies that he hardly recognized. The stairs were his destination, and he could only fake so many smiles. He could only force empty hellos for so long before someone was bound to pull him aside. Their skin burned his.

Because it had been you, and every touch was a pain unlike any other.

“Hey, hey, birthday boy,” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “Miss me?”

Ashton stared at you in awe. Not because you looked stunning, which you did. You always did. But because he hadn’t seen you in four months. He had hardly spoken to you— he felt like he hardly knew you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered as he wracked his brain in search of something to say. Or rather, the right thing to say. Heat trickled up his neck and into his cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” you asked. The drink in your hand had hardly been touched. Meanwhile, your fingers toyed with the small plastic straw.

Ashton felt his smile grow. His stomach was on fire. “Yes— yeah. Give me a fucking hug.”

Your arms wrapped themselves around his torso, your head burying into his shoulder while he tried to memorize the feeling of you against him. He missed being held by you. It came with a sense of belonging–– like he was always meant to be here.

“Did Michael fly you in?” asked Ashton, and meanwhile, he kept his hands on your upper arms. His gaze on you was intense–– that he knew, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Had you always looked that beautiful?

You shook your head. “Wanted to surprise you myself.” A smile grew on your lips.

Ashton smiled as well, but it ached to falter. He just wanted to be happy around you.

The drinks poured on, night crawling with sweat and glitter and everything Ashton had wanted to avoid. As the hours passed, you stuck to him like glue. And the more alcohol in your system, the more you kept your hands on him. Unsteady fingers scraped down his arms whenever a good song came on through the speaker. You were in constant movement, and all Ashton saw was a gaussian blur of colors and smiles.

He locked himself in the upstairs bathroom.

He sat there for at least an hour, knuckles drumming against polished tile while the bass reverberated through the floor. It had been months since his last interaction with you–– he never knew when he would see you next. And then you were dancing with his friends, mind elsewhere while you tried to forget about the dried tears over your ex-boyfriend. You were swaying and laughing, looking like an angel kissed you just that morning, and he hadn’t been ready for any of it.

In all honesty, Ashton would have preferred not seeing you at all. Your presence taunted him. It reminded him of all of the mistakes he made, and it reminded him that you would never love him the way he loved you.

Before leaving the bathroom, he washed his face. He washed away the past couple of hours in order to prepare for the next few. In order to see you again, he had to forget all of his feelings for the night.

But he couldn’t. He barely took a step downstairs before retreating to his bedroom. It was his own birthday–– he could be miserable if he wanted to be. Did he even want to be?

Ashton changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He could still hear the music through the floorboards, but it no longer bothered him. His phone remained silent with no phone calls or texts asking where he was. And then the door opened, and you walked in.

“Uh oh,” you said. “Birthday boy went missing.”

“You found him.”

You smiled softly. “You okay?”

Ashton shrugged. “Tired, s’all.”

You kept your arms crossed as you looked at him. He felt like you were analyzing everything about him. Perhaps you could read minds. Perhaps you already knew how he felt about you.

“Ya wanna sit?” he asked you, motioning to the empty spot next to him on his bed.

Your smile grew. “Duh.” You rushed over, flopped down against the comforter, and nestled into him. He hadn’t expected that last part. “Missed you,” you mumbled against his shirt, and your arm twisted around his. You were warm–– it was a good warmth.

“Missed you, too, bug,” he whispered. He leaned back against the pillows and took your body with him.

You hummed. A comfortable silence settled in, albeit the soft music from down below, and all Ashton could feel was you. He felt your skin, your heartbeat, your smile... He felt the happiness he had been looking for since the night began. This was why he needed you.

You turned to look at him. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Ashton raised an eyebrow at you.

“We’ve been friends for like ten years,” you said. “I’ve even kissed Luke. Why haven’t I kissed you?”

“You kissed Luke?”

You pressed your palm against Ashton’s chest. “Should we kiss?”

“I don’t think––“

“We haven’t even tried it.”

Ashton shrugged. His heart rate had doubled, and the temperature in the room spiked. “Yeah, well...”

“Do you wanna?” you asked.

His limbs felt numb as he sat up. “Maybe now’s not the best time, bug.”

“Oh.”

Ashton wiped his hands against his thighs, and when he looked over at you, a pout had found its way onto your face. The soft light from his bedside lamp reflected in your watery eyes and in the moisture on your lips. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Shit.

“Why do you wanna kiss me so bad?” he mumbled.

You glanced down. “I’ve always wanted t’kiss you,” you said. You looked back up at him, and he saw something in your eyes that he had never seen before.

It gave him hope.

He nodded, swallowing thickly while he fought back conflicting thoughts. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

Ashton nodded once again. “Yeah. We can–– we can try it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, meanwhile wishing he had let the whole thing slide. He wished he could turn back time and never let himself feel like this.

But then you smiled, and he thought that, maybe, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t get the chance to think about anything else before you pressed your lips to his. It was quick, almost as if it had never happened. You moved away slowly, and he nearly pulled you back.

“Well,” you whispered, chuckling once more. The heat of your breath met his skin. With your arms still around his shoulders, you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing you had laid eyes upon.

He wanted to believe it.

“Well,” he said in return. A small smile grew on his lips. He hardly remembered the kiss, but he knew he needed more. So, he placed his arms around your waist.

You leaned in again, this time capturing his lips gently between yours, but he held you close.

And then he pulled away. He pulled away because it meant too much to him. He pulled away because it didn’t mean anything to you.

SIX: NO ONE WILL EVER BE THEM

Ashton’s hands were numb.

The sun had only begun to rise. Its golden hue cast long rays through his blinds, the light taking shape and giving the dust a chance to shine. The colors washed against her back, but he wasn’t looking at that. He didn’t want to look at her.

He arose slowly, careful not to wake her before making his way to the bathroom. He kept his shower brief, and soon, the memories of the night prior infiltrated his brain. They had been together for a few weeks now. A few weeks of late-night hook-ups and early morning goodbyes. And last night, he called her by your name. She didn’t even notice.

Ashton wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. It was all numb. He could hardly feel the loofa as it scrubbed against his skin.

The morning was quiet around him. He thought about her while he spread jam on his toast. She was beautiful. She had kind eyes. But Ashton had to quit lying to himself. He never wanted to get used to the scent of her perfume on his sheets. He didn’t want to lose himself in the color of her eyes. He didn’t want to memorize her.

He grabbed his keys and drove off, skimming the coast with his tires as he dreamed of easier days. And then he called you.

“G’mornin’, Mister West Coast,” you said, and the stress of his mind eased with the tone of your voice. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. The sky was lilac above the ocean. He wished you were here to see it. “Mind’s racin’, and such. Miss you.”

“Aw, miss you, too,” you replied. He could hear your smile. “How’s Sophia?”

Ashton nearly slammed on the brakes. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel to keep his knuckles from turning white. He wanted to say, “she’s not you”, but instead, he said, “she’s okay. A little sick.”

“Wasn’t she just sick?” you asked.

He bit his lip. “Dunno.” And he truly didn’t. He didn’t know much anymore. He felt like he was a floating entity. He felt like he was living someone else’s life. “I really do miss you, stinky.”

“Stinky?” You scoffed. “I’m not stinky. You’re stinky.”

“You can’t smell me through the phone, idiot,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

“Maybe I should just come visit and find out for myself.”

Ashton’s smile grew. “Maybe you should.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he said.

You huffed. “Fine.”

Ashton was grinning now, cheeks burning while he stared at the road ahead. He still loved you. He didn’t know if he would ever stop.

SEVEN: IT WOULD NEVER WORK

“Don’t fucking skip my favorite song, you asshole!”

Ashton’s stomach burned from laughter. He held his phone high, yet the roof of the car kept it within arm’s reach. Meanwhile, you were fighting for dominance as he kept one hand on the steering wheel. You huffed once you gave up, and you fell back into your seat.

“C’mon,” he said, poking your thigh to earn a response. You didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look, I’m changing it. Here. You control the music now.”

That pleased you. You grinned, taking the phone from his hands while he let out a laugh. This was how the week had played out. Back and forth playful bickering until you pulled out your infamous pout, and he had to keep himself from falling harder and harder in love with you.

It was a dynamic he had missed over the past year. His friends noticed as well. His feelings hadn’t changed, yet he was happy. He could finally allow himself to be happy.

You set his phone down in a cupholder and took his hand in yours. Ashton couldn’t deny the shift in energy between the two of you, yet he refused to let it overwhelm him. He refused to let his hopes get the best of his behavior. Instead, he just smiled at you and returned his gaze to the road ahead.

“Have your hands always been this big?” you asked him, holding his hand up in front of your face to examine it.

He laughed. “Are you–– are you flirting with me?”

You set your hands back onto your lap. “Maybe,” you mumbled as you traced his knuckles.

Ashton continued to smile, and a fluttering stirred in his stomach.

“Is that okay?”

His laughter quickly faded, and he cleared his throat. “Y-yeah,” he said, gripping your hand a little tighter. He traced his thumb along your thigh. A comfortable silence settled in, one full of smiles and unspoken words that kept his mind racing.

The next morning, he helped you pack your things. The security line at the airport was short, and you were already running slightly behind schedule. Your plane would begin boarding within the next half hour. So, he kept his goodbye brief.

And then you kissed his cheek, and he wanted to pull you back in and hold you forever.

“I love you, Ashton,” you said with a smile. A warm smile that held meaning. You spoke words that he had heard before, but they felt different as they settled in his chest. You turned away before he could say anything else, and he spent the drive home with tears in his eyes.

Because he loved you, and you possibly loved him, too. But he could never have you the way he wanted. There were too many miles in between.

EIGHT: YOU’RE NOT READY FOR COMMITMENT–– RIGHT?

His feet ached. His knees did, too. Sweat coated his forehead, and he carried on up the steep trail.

Ashton had been thinking about you for weeks. He was caught up in your smile and the soft words you spoke. He climbed mountains to get you out of his head. His muscles burned while his brain ached with the idea of you.

You left him with a thousand questions. Did you feel the same way? Did he still feel the same way? Is this what he wants? Does he want commitment?

Ashton was caught up in scenarios left and right. He was stuck on a house in the hills, or maybe a small town on the eastern seaboard with a mile to the ocean. He felt the waves on his shins, and he felt your hand in his with a silver ring imprinting on his skin. He saw children, and he heard their giggles. He saw his life with you.

But, even after all of these thoughts, he wasn’t sure if it was what he wanted. He still didn’t know. The mountain had yet to clear his head.

He set his keys in the bowl beside his front door. The cold shower felt like an old friend, and a familiar song echoed in the tiled room. Your favorite song. Ashton smiled.

He still loved you, even if you didn’t love him. He still wanted you. He wanted you for the rest of his life.

NINE: IT MIGHT WORK

snail butt:

hey what’s the address for mikey’s party

oh also!! surprise!

i'm coming to mikey’s party

Ashton’s leg bounced as he awaited your arrival. He felt trapped in some small room at the back of a club while his friends chatted around him. Michael wore golden party decorations around his neck, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Meanwhile, Ashton couldn’t hold back his fucking nerves. He hadn’t told a soul that you were coming.

When you stepped in, the room was yours. Your name was sung in a booming chorus, bodies making their way toward yours for one big group hug, and you were smiling, too. Ashton stayed behind. He felt like he couldn’t move.

Your eyes met his only seconds later, your smile growing while you shot him a wink. Michael talked about something that reminded him of you, and you laughed along. Ashton’s heart swelled at the sight of you. He wished he could have it every single day.

The night carried on slowly, and the conversations between the two of you were cut short. But the shared glances flooded the atmosphere. There was something heavy behind them, like a beckoning almost, but he couldn’t force himself to move in your direction. He wanted to look at you from afar.

“Stranger danger,” you said after approaching him later on in the night. You folded your arms and smirked, and Ashton was suddenly aware of how tight your dress was on your figure.

“Me?” he asked, mirroring your grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m the least terrifying person you’ll ever meet.”

“Say that to the fifteen-year-old kid who dressed up as Freddie Krueger to scare the shit out of his innocent neighbor,” you replied. You took a few steps toward him.

“To be fair,” he began and placed his hands against the small of your back, “you’re just an easy scary.” His smile grew. “Hi, bug. Missed you.”

You fell into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders while your breaths quickly fell into a rhythm. “I missed you,” you mumbled against his jacket. You pulled away suddenly. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

You nodded. “Come along,” you said.

The two of you said a quick goodbye to Michael, wished him a happy birthday, and made your way out into the chilly night. You had yet to let go of Ashton’s hand, even as he drove down streets that he hardly recognized. The address you gave him was one he had never seen before.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to an apartment complex fifteen or so miles away from his place.

“You gonna murder me?” he asked you.

You shook your head and smiled. “Nope,” you said.

A billion questions ran through his head as you led him up a staircase. But he stayed quiet. Even when you pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a numbered door, he still kept his mouth shut.

A lamp in the corner of the room lit up the small space. Boxes were stacked upon other boxes, and it hardly looked lived in. Yet, that didn’t matter. Ashton had realized what was happening. He felt sick to his stomach.

“I was offered a job,” you said.

He stared at the mess of boxes and mismatched furniture. Even through the clutter, it was thoroughly you through-and-through.

“And I was tired of having to constantly come visit you,” you continued with a laugh. “I didn’t wanna tell you until it was set in stone. But, yeah, welcome to my new home.”

Ashton turned to face you. You appeared nervous as you awaited his response. You were waiting for him to tell you it was a stupid idea, that you should have thought about this before packing up your life and moving to Los Angeles. But he wasn’t going to do that.

Instead, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

TEN: THE FEAR OF FALLING OUT OF LOVE

He could hear the screams from backstage. A venue full of thousands of fans, all waiting to hear him and his band. He wished he hadn’t become numb to the feeling. It was his job–– it was normal. And the music he created no longer held the same meaning.

But he heard the songs differently now. He played with more passion, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his drumkit became a solace. Venues were his sanctuaries. Every night was filled with a new sensation he desired–– no, he craved.

His friends took notice. They fed off of his energy, and he wasn’t sure they had ever played this well before. It was something he wished he could share with you.

Ashton didn’t like remembering the thin line the two of you had drawn out. It was unexplainable, something unnamed that he was desperate to make sense of. Conversations were full of old jokes and stupid pictures he always saved into his camera roll. However, he never bothered to ask you how you felt. He never pressed about the one thing that stuck itself to his mind for well over a year.

He wanted to tell someone about how scared he was. Past relationships failed on his part–– he would flee instead of looking for reasons to stay. He chose to leave because he never saw things escalating further. Ashton had gotten used to the escape.

He felt different. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he needed. Yet, the lack of reluctance created an unwanted fear. Ashton was afraid that, if you ever opened up to loving him back, then maybe he would stop loving you in return.

This fear showed itself in his performance. It fueled an anger that terrified him. But the shows were fucking phenomenal, he told himself. His hands bled after every night. And he still called you every night.

He was afraid of losing feelings. He was afraid of losing you. The idea of loving you was more beautiful than he could imagine–– the idea of you filled his heart with so much joy. That was where Ashton’s love for you differed from past relationships. He was used to falling in love with ideas, but this time, he fell in love with the honest you. He loved every little thing about you.

“Hi, bug.”

“Hey, how was the show?”

Ashton pushed sweaty strands of hair out of his face. His heart was pounding through his skin, fingers sore and shaky from an incredible set. His lips were numb. “Hi, um, it was–– yeah, it was good.”

“You sound out of breath.”

He inhaled as best as he could. “Sorry, yeah. I am.” Anxiety crawled up his forearms and into his chest.

“You okay?” you asked him.

He swallowed. He wasn’t okay, but it didn’t matter. “Yeah. I’m good. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was fine,” you said. “Didn’t do much. Watered your plants, ate your food, had a good nap on your couch, and then I––”

“I’m in love with you.”

You were silent.

Ashton’s throat burned. Everything was numb. His entire body had fallen numb. He wanted to end the call and never come home.

“You are?” you whispered a moment later.

His heart ached. “Yeah,” he said.

“Please come home soon.”

Ashton tried to laugh through the nerves building. “Can’t do that, bug. I got like forty shows left.”

“Poopy.”

This time, he could laugh. Maybe he had been nervous for nothing. Nevertheless, he now believed that he had nothing to fear.

ELEVEN: THEY MIGHT LOVE YOU BACK

The door to his home creaked as he stepped inside. A thick black night greeted him, not a single light to be seen as the white noise settled. He held his breath while he set his belongings beside the couch. It always felt like this when he came home. He was always welcomed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He would shower and crawl into bed, and he would spend the entire night in a restless state.

Ashton hadn’t expected to see you curled up in his sheets. That was where the night different from the many others. He hadn’t expected his heart to fill with such warmth at the mere sight of you. Two in the morning had never felt so good.

You held his pillow tight, and he wondered if it smelled like him. He wondered if you had spent the past few months here, and he wondered if it felt like home to you. Because you looked like home to him. It was like you were meant to be there, all curled up in his bedsheets with his shirt on your back.

Ashton knelt beside you, a smile etched on his features as he ran his fingers through your hair. He had never felt this much love before.

“Hey, bug,” he whispered, grazing his thumb against your cheek while your eyes fluttered.

You stirred beneath him and hummed.

“’m gonna shower, then I’m gonna hug you after,” he said. “Okay?”

You nodded, but a moment later, your eyes snapped open. “Ash!” you yelped. You tossed your arms around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him. “You’re fucking home.”

He chuckled, yet he didn’t reply. He held you tighter and took in your warmth. He took in your scent and the weight of your breaths. He wanted to hold you forever.

You were the first to pull away, a smile never fading as you rested your forehead against his. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, and your fingers twisted in his hair; it was a feeling he’d never let himself forget.

“You forgot to text me when you landed, asshole,” you mumbled.

He laughed again, raising his hand to cup your cheek before kissing you softly. And, like always, you kissed him back. Ashton had loved you for over a year, and perhaps, you loved him in return.

[sauntered-vaguely-downward]

Flight. Loki x Reader.

SO HEY! Its been a while. Uni is hard guys like damn so much work! But anyways, lockdown is happening in the Uk So im bored and procrastinating on my last essay so here have this slightly shitty loki x reader. 

“I do not wish to go anymore, I think perhaps I would be better if I stayed here, help Banner with the computers and intel,” Loki protested. “I’m sure I would be more use here than wherever it is you’re going off to in that… that… metal bird.” 

“Oh no no no… I am not leaving you alone in my building,” Tony snapped. “You are coming with us so we always know where you are, I do not trust you one bit not to destroy my building.” 

“Thanks for looking out for me Tony,” Bruce sighed. “Loki your skills are needed in the field, you won't be of much use to me here, I need to focus on the screens and well… you struggle with technology as simple as the fridge, I don’t quite think you’ll be much help when it comes to the computers.”

“But I do not want to go… not on that thing,” Loki pointed to the jet they were loading with gear, not hiding his disgust at the metal bird before him. Now Loki may have been a god, a god who had travelled from planet to planet, through time and space, but he was not a god who was accustomed to the ways of travel here on earth. 

When Loki had first returned to earth after his attempt at taking control of its people, he had managed to avoid using the methods of travel the humans used as much as possible. His first experience was on a bus. He hadn’t much liked this, one because he found there were far too many people around him, and two the driver seemed to aim for the holes in the road rather than avoid it. His second experience had been worse. He’d been travelling with Thor from one side of the city to the other by the subway. The first couple of stops were fine, but as more people joined and the gaps became further apart, Loki began to feel far too overheated, his head spun trying to make sense of all the sounds around him, and before the doors were open at his stop, his stomach began to churn so much he could no longer hold in its contents. Loki had other experiences with travel of the mortals all of which he found rather displeasing, but this was to be his first experience with any form of aircraft, aside from when he had been captured but he had been far too preoccupied at the time to focus on the jet or worry. 

Loki simply did not want to get on the jet before him. He had no faith in the humans, and thought it highly unlikely they would be able to build a craft that would hold all of the team in the air for the duration of their trip. Loki didn’t particularly want to meet his end through crash landing in some godforsaken land. 

“You scared of a little plane?!” Tony mocked, not being able to contain the joy and laughter that escaped him at the thought of the mighty Loki being scared of a little jet. “Ha, not so amazing are you?” 

“Hey cut it out Tony,” a voice called from inside. Y/N came out, carrying with her her own crate needed for the mission. Steve rushed to her side to assist her, taking the crate and loading it alongside the other boxes already inside the jet. 

“Nice to see you’ve finally joined us,” Clint smirked, knowing full well Y/N had overslept again, something that happened on the regular. 

“Shut it,” she smirked back. “Tony don’t be a dick alright? If you’re not used to flying like this it can be scary alright, I doubt anyone here wasn’t scared the first time they got on a plane, you included, so leave Loki alone otherwise you can deal with me.” Tony knew not to test this out. Y/N was nowhere near as scary as Nat, but that didn’t make her as deadly. Y/N had the power of mind control and reading, and anytime anyone annoyed her she didn’t stop herself from sharing their deepest darkest secrets. Last time Clint had wrong her the whole team had not only watched him dance like a chicken for thirty minutes, but had learnt that in order to sleep he had a little blanket he liked to rub against his nose. 

“Thank you,” Loki smiled softly. Y/N had always been so kind to Loki, he was never too sure why, it wasn’t as if he deserved it. She always had his back, helped him understand things and had the patience to keep helping evening when he took a while to understand. She was always the first to volunteer to spar with him, happily taking him on with or without his powers. 

Loki hadn’t ever felt a connection as close as he felt with her, everytime she was near his heart felt a little bigger in his chest, its rate increasing with every breath he took. He hadn’t ever experienced a feeling like this, and certainly not towards a mortal woman, but he knew what it meant. 

“That’s alright sweetie,” she smiled, coming to his side while they waited for the rest of the packing to be done. “How about you sit beside me on the jet, it’s a bit of a long flight but I’ve brought some little travel games. Personally its not the flight itself that bothers me its having to listen to Thor and Clint discuss who has bigger muscles.”

“We do not do that!” Clint barked.

“Although if we were to have that conversation it would certainly be me,” Thor said quietly, earning himself a grin from both Y/N and Loki. 

Y/N and Loki boarded the plane when it was ready, and as agreed Y/N had sat beside him. From her little bag she pulled out a small plastic box. 

“It’s travel checkers. I also have travel connect four if we get that bored… oooh and pen and paper to play hangman and that box game…” 

“Sounds like a wonderful distraction to me,” Loki was not too interested in the games she had brought with her, although he was grateful she had, no he was more interested in the woman that sat beside him. The best disraction was not going to come from moving small magnetic checkers pieces around a board or haning a man if she spelt his word wrong, no the best distraction for him would simply be listening to her talk and knowing she was by his side. 

The pair played most of the games for the duration of the fight, and so far Loki had not once thought about the fear of flying he had once possessed. Y/N made for a wonderful companion to have on a worrying trip so he had felt most at ease for the most part of the journey.

“Hey guys,” Steve called over his shoulder from his position in the pilots seat. “The next bits going to get a bit rough, just hold tight.”

He wasn’t lying. The small craft began to feel as though it was being hurtled through the sky by an unknown force that made it bounce up and down along the clouds. Loki instinctively hung onto the arms of his seat feeling as though his whole body was being shaken around inside a glass bottle. Even the other Avengers, seasoned flyers, felt queasy as the plane hurtled forward. 

Loki tried a breathing technique Y/N had taught him for when he got mad, however the repetitive in and out seemed to not help at all. 

Y/N, who like the rest of the team was struggling with the constant jumping of the plane, remained as calm as possible. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Loki’s hands gripping so tight on the armrest that his already pale hands became as white as snow. His panicked breaths echoed around her. Without thinkin about it, wanting only to help the man beside her, she placed one hand on top of his, tightly enough so he would know she was there, and with the other pulled his face around to face hers. 

“Hey, Loki,” Y/n said sweetly, looking at him as his eyes remained tightly shut. She couldn’t help the little jump in her chest as she looked at him. Y/N had taken a liking to him and hated seeing him like this. She would do everything in her power to help him get through this. “Hey, look at me sweetie.” 

Loki did as instructed, his panic lessening as he looked into her eyes, getting lost in them as if they were their own star system. 

“That’s it,” she smiled softly, trying to assure him it was going to be okay and not show her own worry as the plane continued to be thrown around the sky. “It’s okay I promise, this is normal okay, it’s just because of the bad winds today okay. This plane is the best out there and will get us there safely okay.” 

“Okay, okay…” Loki breathed, trying his very best to focus on her. His eyes traced the lines of her face, studied every freckle, every stray hair from her bun. Loki realised just how beautiful she was right now, seeing her completely for the first time. Just as his breathing began to slow, Steve made another announcement. 

“We’ve got to make an emergency landing, were in a storm, hold tight… it’s going to get worse.” 

Instantly Loki began to panic again, his hand gripped Y/N’s as his breaths began to quicken once more. Y/N watched as he once again shut his eyes tight and the fear began to radiate off him again. She had to try and help him, she hated seeing him like this, she needed to take his mind off it. Without thinking it through, Y/N leant forward and pressed her lips against his firmly to try and bring him back, to take his mind off the panic. As his lips remained still against hers, she suddenly realised how this was perhaps not the best method of distraction. She went to pull away when his lips began to move against hers. 

The panic of the plane hurtling to the ground began to fade, instead his body began to react to the sensation of her lips being pressed against his. His chest remained tight, but this time it was because of her, the way he made her feel in his heart. His facial expressions began to soften and he let go of his tight grip on her hand to allow it to find her cheek. 

As their focus became just each other, both allowing the kiss to become more than just a distraction, the plane began to slow, finally coming into land. Neither noticed as they reached safely until Tony cleared his throat.

“Can I be the first to say ew? Your reaction to our plane potentially going down was to kiss?” He chuckled. 

“Shut it Tony, you peed yourself a little during that so you can hardly talk,” Y/N bite back, reading his thoughts as he mocked them. Tony soon shut up. “Sorry I shouldn’t of just kissed you, that was probably kind of weird for you,” she said quietly so only Loki could hear. 

“No, don't apologise,” Loki smiled, taking her hand in both of his, “I’m not the best with interaction, particularly with mortals, but you make me feel something I haven’t before, that kiss made me feel it even more… I wouldn’t mind you using it to distract me more often.” 

“That can be arranged,” she smiled, leaning in once more so their lips joined. Perhaps that was the best distraction method she could find after all. 

[eirabach]

Just Like Heaven [The Glow Rewrite] 1/8

Well, here it is kids. Kindly betaed by the beautiful @katie-dub. All remaining errors are absolutely 1000% my fault, and any and all incoherence remains despite her best efforts to kick sense into me. All the love in the world to the CaptainSwanRewriteathon team who helped me get this thing finished, even if I dropped out at the very very last second. I love you all. Very dearly.

Emma Swan always gets her man, why would she let a little thing like death get in the way?

A Captain Swan ‘Just Like Heaven’ Movie AU that takes the AU part and eats it for breakfast. Now with weekly updates! Godspeed, dear reader. Godspeed.

Rated M. Ao3. 2500 / 22000. 

She dreams of the ocean.

The skies are bright blue, and cartoon-fluffy clouds scud overhead as the ship skips over the waves with her at the bow. The wind catches at her hair and she laughs - a wild, bell-like sound she barely recognises - and spreads her arms wide.

Somewhere behind her, someone is calling her name.

Emma!

Emma?

“Emma? Emma!”

She sits bolt upright, the cheap plastic chair creaking alarmingly beneath her weight as she sways backwards. Her half eaten breakfast doughnut rolls sadly across the table and drops to the floor, and she scrubs at the smear of cinnamon frosting it’s left on her cheek.

“Sorry, what,” she mumbles, blinking grit from her eyes. “I was just - ”

“Snoring,” says her boss, lips twitching into a sneer. “So glad you could rejoin us.”

“Sorry,” Emma mutters again, “it won’t - it won’t happen again.”

Zelena lifts one perfectly manicured eyebrow over the file she’s holding out, Emma cringing inwardly as she realises that every person around the rickety old boardroom table is watching her with expressions that range from amused, to pitying, to - in Jefferson’s case - alarmingly hungry.

“Rough night?” he asks, with a lecherous sort of grin. “We could make it… rougher, if you like?”

Emma squeezes her hands into fists and forces her expression into a tight smile.

“Not in any way you’d enjoy, Jefferson. I might, though.”

Ruby scoffs into her hand, covering it up with a cough, and the two of them exchange a swift look. Ruby’s still in last night’s make-up too, but hers is still practically pristine, her lips still devil red as she quirks them briefly at Emma.

Emma’s carefully applied mascara, on the other hand, is smeared under her eyes and down her cheeks from hours spent waiting in the rain, her lipstick long since bled away.

It really had been a rough night.

Her mark had been a particularly nasty piece of work, skipping bail and leaving not only one well-meaning and heavily pregnant girlfriend to foot the bill, but two, and Emma had been warned in advance that he had form for getting nasty when things weren’t going his way.

He also, it seemed, had form for standing up dates. In the rain.

And possibly Varsity Level Track and Field skills.

She could imagine better starts to the day than dealing with Zelena and Jefferson after six hours of extensive wet-weather cross-country running and twenty minutes sleep. She squirms in her seat, her shoulder aching still from where he’d attempted to wrench it from its socket before she’d finally managed to get the drop on him, and meets Zelena’s gaze with a glare of her own.

“I got the mark,didn’t I?” she says. “I just didn’t get much sleep.”

“I hope you enjoyed your little cat nap, then,” says Zelena, sliding the file over to Emma. “Because here’s the next one.”

Emma’s brow furrows as she looks at the golden embossed motif on the front of the file, the heavy cardstock, the six figure reward for bringing this guy in.

Somebody must have been a really, really naughty boy.

“The cops increased their budget lately?”

“Not for the police,” Zelena says smugly, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. “This is on behalf of a private client.”

“Hey.” Emma drops the file on the table and shakes her head sharply. “We do bailsbonds, not PI work.”

Zelena hums, her eyes going wide. “Is that what it says on my door? Well I never.”

“You don’t have a door,” Emma mutters, but Zelena is leaning over the table now, her eyes sharp, and Emma is forcibly reminded that although she’s good at her job - great, even - Zelena is still very much the boss.

“And you don’t have a choice,” she hisses. “Unless you think I should give the mark to someone else?”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees both Ruby and Jefferson sit up a little straighter, and her eyes drift back down to the file.

She doesn’t know who Mr Gold is, and she has no idea what he wants with the dark-haired man in the grainy CCTV photo - this Killian Jones - but she knows how much money is left for the month. She knows Henry went to school this morning in jeans a half inch too short.

And it’s six figures. Six.

“No,” she says, closing the file and resting her hands on top of it. “I’ve got this.”

--

The office - such as it is - isn’t the sort of place Emma likes to spend much of her time, even at the best of times which, frankly, this sort of isn’t. Ruby’s nice, outgoing enough to spring the honey traps Emma wouldn’t dare and a personable sort of person to have around if you didn’t mind the constant sound of gum smacking, but even she isn’t a generous enough soul to congratulate Emma on being handed a case that might make her rich. And Jefferson had looked ready to murder her before she’d slipped past the splintered remains of what had once been Zelena’s door and settled herself into the only comfy chair in the place - an elderly padded desk chair reserved for clients that always smells faintly of despair.

Zelena could afford to replace it, of course. Emma thinks she just rather likes the scent.

“All right,” she says, crossing her legs and trying not to wince as her knees protest. “Spill.”

Zelena taps her nails on her desk and tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“Afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she says with suspiciously wide eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“You tell me,” Emma snaps back, the file tight in her fingers. “Since when do we take on private clients - since when do private clients want to hire us?” She gestures to the door, it’s smashed glass panel and missing edges a testament to the sort of review Oz Bail Bonds has received in the past. “Something’s up.”

For a moment Zelena’s sneer drops, her fingers still, the confidence she wears like her knock-off suit flickering briefly out of existence.

“That’s none of your business,” she says, eyes narrowing. “Just do your job, Swan.”

“I will,” Emma snaps, “but not if - I have Henry to worry about you know.”

Zelena rolls her eyes in the particularly dismissive manner she reserves for those rare occasions her staff dare to remind her that they have lives outside of the office walls.

“Best make sure you don’t fail, then.” She gestures to the door, her contribution clearly finished. “Although,” she says, “since you’re here…” She reaches into her desk drawer and removes one of the thin, buff coloured files preferred by Portland PD. Clipped to the front is a picture of a red-faced, piggy-eyed man, with slicked back black hair and a smile even a mother would cringe at. “Jefferson didn’t quite bring home the bacon on this one, so to speak. Would you mind?”

Zelena smiles her reptilian smile and Emma thinks of her bed, the three day old take out festering in the fridge. She thinks of Henry’s face as he waits for her to collect him from school only to see Mary Margaret turn up again.

“Would it matter if I did?”

Zelena’s smile almost reaches her eyes.

“Not in the least.”

—

If you were to ask Killian Jones where he’d gone wrong in his life he’d struggle to put his finger on any one event. Too many coincidences. Too little respect for authority. Too much death. Too little faith. Not enough rum.

Well, maybe not that last one, though it is what brings him out tonight.

He stumbles through the night, his collar drawn up against the cold and his hat pulled low against prying eyes. The streets are unfamiliar still, the accents around him notably unlike his own, and it’s a stupid idea, this. Foolish. Idiotic. Risky. Irresponsible. All the things that he’d been, before. All the things that he’d sworn to leave behind, after.

(It seems he’s yet to make a vow he can’t break.)

He’s too sober to be this maudlin. Too sober by far.

Luckily, that’s one of the few things he can do anything about.  

His legal team know nothing of the little dockside hole in the wall joint he’s taken to frequenting when they clock off for the night. He’s spent weeks under their watchful gaze, sitting sweet between the four magnolia walls of the safehouse, and maybe they’re as bored as he is or maybe they secretly agree that he deserves what’s coming to him, but gradually they’ve given him a few tiny tastes of freedom. The disposition is pending, after all. His evidence presented in black and white. So perhaps it doesn’t matter that they’ve left a newspaper here. An open bathroom window there.

And he might be nothing else, but he’s resourceful.

He’s resourceful, and soon, he plans to be drunk.

Liam hated him being drunk.

He hated the dive bars he’d frequent, the women he’d bring home, the friends he’d spend his nights with.

Sometimes - most of the time - he wonders if Liam had just hated him.

He’d have been well within his rights.

He’d been left with a feckless little sod of a younger brother to care for when his career was barely beginning, all those early paychecks dropped on a boy who barely understood the sacrifice and wouldn’t have appreciated it if he had. God only knows, even now, how he’d managed to convince his superiors to allow his delinquent younger brother access to the shipyards.

It’s why he sticks to the docks. The scent of brine and engine oil takes him back to those hazy distant days when Liam had tried to save him from himself, and the ships that almost had.

But then, Liam was gone. And along with him any hope for Killian Jones in the world at large.

The Underworld had taken him, and he’d let it.

The black market, after all, did have better rum.

Better than this place certainly, but he drinks the proffered dross anyway. Needs must. And besides, it stops burning after the fourth shot.

Perhaps if he’d stopped there he’d have stood a chance of noticing the man in the corner of the bar. Most unfortunates who patronise a place like this tend to keep their heads down and their drinks coming, but this one - this one has his eye on Killian.

And he’s been cradling the same pint for an hour.

Killian doesn’t notice him, or the anxious way he shifts his weight. He doesn’t notice the glint of silver in his pocket, nor the sweat that blooms across his brow. He would have, once. Would have cared, once. But now all he cares about are the dribbles of rum that slip down shaking fingers and the goddamn waste of it all.

So he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t care. Not until he’s eight shots deep and the world is spinning, stinking of garbage and vomit, footsteps behind him and it’s too damn late to run.

Too damn late by far.

---

It hadn’t always been like this of course.

It’s sort of surreal this half-life of hers, lived in the shadows of other people’s mistakes. She works mainly when the streets are dark and empty, sleeping the daylight away as best she can in an old recliner swiped from a skip, her son’s third-hand xbox blaring brightly away just beyond the edge of her consciousness. She’s tired, always, and never quite as well off as she ought to be for the hours she puts in - the stain of Zelena’s fingerprints over every pay cheque - but on balance, it’s alright.

It used to be far, far worse.

At least she was sleeping in her car voluntarily nowadays. Not like those early days before, cold and desperate, she’d thrown herself on the mercy of the only friend she could remember having, her worst best mistake wailing in her arms and her prison issue clothes hanging off too thin shoulders.

And Mary Margaret had let her in.

And let her in. And let her in.

Until their brief High School friendship had developed into something almost like family, almost just right.

She’s getting morbid, it’s getting late. The two things might be connected.

It’s been a depressingly long time since she’d backed the bug into the alleyway outside of the mark’s preferred drinking den, and she’d done nothing ever since but squint into the dark - nothing except fire off a quick text to Mary Margaret begging off school pick up and hoping she’d take mercy.

Again.

It’s a theme, of sorts.

(And if she hadn’t answered Mary Margaret’s follow up call, well. She can’t afford to get distracted on a job.

She can’t afford for Mary Margaret to finally say no.)

From somewhere under the pile of cheeseburger wrappers in her passenger footwell she hears the buzz of her phone and winces.

She sort of should have, maybe, called Mary Margaret back.

No time for that now though. At the end of the alleyway she sees the shadow of a man leaving the bar, the tell-tale lurching gait of the heavy drinker giving her time to slip out of the bug, gun in hand, before he’s able to disappear into the shadows.

This is always the riskiest part - the choice. Does she shout, ensuring the guy currently emptying his guts against a dumpster is the one she’s after but possibly setting herself up for another late night cross country session? Or does she lurk in the dark like some sort of comic book vigilante, creeping along with her back to the damp alleyway walls and hope that she’s able to get the drop on him?

(Her knees hurt. Decision made.)

She inches towards the dark figure, wrinkling her nose up as he retches into the gutter, the street lights casting a yellow halo around his unruly hair. He’s mumbling to himself as he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, some sort of half conversation with the demons in his own head, and Emma slides her gun back into her belt. She’s not going to need it.

Somehow, she gets the impression that if she breathes too hard at this one he’ll drop like a leaf.

“Hey,” she says softly, stepping into the glow of the light, her hands open at her sides. “I think you ought to come with me”

He pauses his mumbling, his shoulders heaving slightly from the effort of being sick, and she sees the way his right hand tightens on the edge of the dumpster.

There’s a crack - thunder that isn’t  - a sharp, wet, blooming pain in her stomach. Screeching rubber and her own pulse harsh in her ears as she stumbles forward, grabbing for the edge of the drunk’s jacket as she falls.

She gasps. Henry’s name garbled in blood. Her phone’s in her car. She needs to tell this guy… he needs to tell Henry… she needs…

Help.

He turns, a flash of blue against white, and everything goes dark.

[winchester-fantasies]

I Want You. I Need You. I Love You.

Summary: You’re a vampire on the run and living the life of a nomad after your family is murdered. When a chance meeting leads you to Sam Winchester seven years later, your life is altered in more ways than one.

Word Count: 4415

Warnings: angst, blood, show level violence, death (not a main character), fluff, allusions to sex

Pairing: Sam x Vampire!Reader

A/N: This was written as a request for @samsknife a.k.a. my bestie!! hi, i have another request!! reader and her family are vampires trying to have a “normal” life, but one day when she goes to work at night, she comes back to find out they were killed. seven years later, she meets sam (you can decide how/why but they still don’t know sam was the one who killed her family & he doesn’t know she’s a vampire) and they fall for each other. later on they both find out the truth and you can take it from there! lots of angst and lots of fluff, please? Here you go, Andy! Hope it’s everything you wanted! 

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

2005

“See ya, Mom!” you called as you bounced down the stairs.

“See you, honey!” she called, peeking her head out from the kitchen. “Remember your dad and brother are going hunting tonight so they’ll be out late.”

You nodded, your stomach growling at the thought of fresh blood. It had been so long since you’d had blood that wasn’t out of a bag that your mother used to store away what meager blood you had. “Thanks for reminding me, Mom,” you said with a grin, running over to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Now I gotta go or I’m gonna be late!”

Your mom smiled and shooed you on your way. You bounded down the stairs and headed down the sidewalk as you made your way to the convenience store you worked at. It was pitch black and the streets were almost deserted. And while a part of you resented being a vampire, it did have its perks. For one, you could see perfectly in the dark; you were in your element.

Your friends thought you were a bit weird that you only ever came out at night, but you’d always been able to give one excuse or another and over time they had simply accepted it. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the closest thing to normal you’d ever experience. At least for now. You were still young and hadn’t been a vampire for very long and your sensitivity to light was still strong. Mom said it would get easier over time but until that time came, you were only ever allowed out at night. Not that you minded much. It was still too overwhelming.

It didn’t take you long to get to the convenience store, but your coworker was more than ready to leave when you reached it. You said a hurried goodbye to them and then you were alone.

Although you actually enjoyed working at a gas station, you hated nights like these - the ones when the hours slowly ticked by and you rarely had anyone show up. You often thought it ironic that you were afraid of the night when you so fully thrived in it.

But finally the first light of dawn peeked over the horizon and the next person showed up for their shift. You waved goodbye to them before heading back home. You smiled to yourself as you walked, listening to the birds in the trees and staring into the dark blue expanse that was the sky. This was the most you were ever able to enjoy being in the daylight and you relished the little glimpse of freedom you’d be able to experience again.

You rounded the corner that led to your house and that’s when you smelled it. Metallic yet almost sweet. Blood. It was thick in the air and your stomach lurched when you realized it wasn’t fresh.

You hurried down the sidewalk, the smell of blood growing stronger the nearer you got to your house. You stopped in your tracks and stared up at the house you’d called home for nearly two years.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and walked up to the door, the smell of blood so thick you could almost taste it. With trembling hands you turned the knob and swung the door open, praying that you’d see your mom in the kitchen and your dad and brother at the butcher’s block in the room that they’d built especially for draining animals.

But it wasn’t. Instead you found your family sprawled out on the floor, blood pooled beneath their bodies, their heads lying only a few feet away. You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream. You simply slid to the floor, your body numb and your mind blank as you stared at once was your nest, the only family you’d ever known.

You didn’t know how long you sat there in the open doorway, but when you glanced up again it was dark. You glanced at your watch, realizing your shift at the convenience store started in five minutes. But you ignored the time, pushing yourself up onto feet and legs that had long since gone numb before shutting the front door and heading up the stairs. You laid down on your mattress and stared at the pictures on your mirror of you and your family as your heart cried out in anguish.

**********

Your mind was still blank as the first rays of daylight filled your room. You rolled over and looked out the window. You needed to get yourself together. You needed to figure out what to do with the bodies of your family and you needed to get out.

You were new to being a vampire and you most certainly didn’t know everything there was to know, but you were fairly certain that hunters had been the cause of your family’s demise. And from what Mom and Dad always said, hunters were more dangerous than any other creature on the planet.

So you finally climbed out of bed, headed downstairs and dragged the bodies into the basement. You knew it wasn't the smartest or cleanest job ever, but you had no idea of what else to do.

You headed back to your room and took out your duffle bag and packed as much as you could carry along with the pictures of you and your family. Then you made your way to the kitchen and to the fridge, taking out a few bags of blood and stuffing them into your bag. Dad had never taught you how to hunt, and the thought of drinking from a human made you nauseous so this was the best you could do, at least for now.

You swung your duffle over your shoulder and headed for the front door, pausing for a moment to look back at everything you were leaving behind before you closed the door and walked away….

**********

2012

You climbed up onto the stool, raising a hand to get the attention of the bartender. “What can I get you, beautiful?” the man asked, shooting you a toothy and flirtatious grin.

“Just a beer, thanks,” you said with a tight-lipped smile.

He went off to get your order and you turned in your seat, eyes roaming over the dimly-lit bar. It was loud and filled with smoke, music filling the air while couples and drunk people looking for a hookup danced on the crowded floor.

“Here you go, sweet cheeks.” You turned back around and tipped your head, not making eye contact even when the bartender’s hand brushed yours when you reached for the dark bottle.

You nursed your beer, listening to the sounds around you. They were deafening. You could hear everything, from the hushed but quick spurts of air that rushed from open mouths as they danced, to the pumping of hearts as lust took over. But it was manageable. You’d trained yourself to become accustomed to the lights and sounds of society, and you could now come and go as you pleased without incident.

You kept to yourself, never staying in one place for very long and never making many connections. It wasn’t that you liked to be alone; it was the total opposite in fact. But you had to stay under the radar because although you had left your former life behind you and tried, and succeeded, at integrating into normal life better than any vampire you’d ever encountered, that didn’t mean hunters understood. In fact, none of them saw the line. They only saw things in black and white, and because of that you were in constant danger.

You were brought out of your thoughts by someone sliding onto the stool beside you. You glanced over, your breath catching in your throat. This guy had to be the most good-looking man you’d ever laid eyes on with his shoulder length hair and the broadest pair of shoulders you’d ever seen.

He must have felt your stare because he turned his head, locking eyes with you and giving you a smile that had you quaking. You’d never felt or acted this way towards anyone before and certainly never a human.

“Hey, how you doing?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth like honey.

“Uh, hi,” you said, your tongue like lead. You turned your attention back to the bottle in front of you as the bartender came to stand in front of the stranger.

“Two beers and a shot of whiskey,” he ordered, and your heart dropped at the thought that he had most likely come here with someone. Of course he had. Someone as handsome as him didn’t walk around single.

He waited while the bartender filled his orders, but you didn’t speak again, not even a quick glance at one another. So you both sat, his eyes trained on recent news being reported on the TV above the bar top, and you feigning interest in your beer bottle as you desperately tried to ignore the unfamiliar feelings being ignited from being so close to this virtual stranger.

The bartender finally came back and the man beside you took them up in his large hands without trouble. You darted a glance at him, startled to find his eyes on you. He smiled and tipped his head before walking off.

You watched him as he made his way to a booth behind you, setting down a beer and the shot in front of another man who was making out with some chick as if he were man starved. Maybe he wasn’t with someone...at least not of the female variety.

You felt a sense of relief, but for what you weren’t sure. It wasn’t like you were going to get lucky. One-night stands and quickies in bar bathrooms weren’t exactly your thing. So you turned back to your beer, the liquid now room temperature. But it didn’t really matter. It tasted all the same to you.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before you ordered another beer. The bartender was just setting down a new bottle, same flirtiness and same lazy smirk plastered across his cocky, fuckboy face when you heard someone slide into the seat beside you once more.

“You’re still here.”

Your gaze shot next to you at the sound of the newly familiar voice. It was the man from before and your stomach immediately flipped. “Uh, yep. Yeah, I am,” you said with an all too forced chuckle. You silently kicked yourself for how awkward you were being. But you couldn’t really help it. You had had very little contact with humans throughout your life since your family was killed, and you were so totally out of your element.

“Glad to see it,” he said, shooting you that same easy grin from before. Was he...flirting with you? You didn’t think much more on it as your eyes were drawn back to his smile, and this time you noticed his pair of boyish dimples. “I’m Sam by the way,” he added, extending his hand to you.

“(Y/N),” you said, taking his offered hand and successfully shaking it without being more awkward than you already were. Maybe you knew more about human interaction than you realized.

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N),” Sam said, holding up his hand to the bartender for another beer as he got more comfortable beside you. “So you here alone?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said haltingly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What about you?” you asked. “I saw you bringing those beers to the table with the guy and girl...uh, practically eating each other’s faces off.”

If he was offended by your wry observation he didn’t let on. Instead he grinned. “Were you watching me?”

“No,” you scoffed, looking down in embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” Sam chuckled. “I was watching you, too.”

“You were?” you asked incredulously, your eyes snapping up to meet his dancing ones. He nodded, his face holding sincerity. “But why?” you asked, your surprise changing to suspicion.

“Because I thought you looked interesting,” he said with a good-natured smile. “Someone I’d enjoy getting to know better.”

“Oh,” you said simply, your suspicion once again sliding back into shock. You’d never had someone show this much interest in you before. Well, sure, there was the occasion bar rat and fuckboy, but someone like Sam? Well, most guys never showed genuine interest in you the way he was. It was new and exciting not to mention attractive and you found yourself turning towards him so he could have your full attention.

You and Sam spent the rest of the night in deep conversation and laughter and by the time the guy at the booth - his brother, Dean, as he told you - came to get him, you felt as if you had known Sam your entire life. It was completely different than anything you’d ever experienced before and you found yourself longing for him even with him still in front of you.

“I’d like to see you again,” Sam said after Dean made his way outside.

“Really?” you asked, not believing that the gorgeous and kind man in front of you would want a second time with you.

“Well, yeah,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Are you here for long?”

“Uh, no,” you said, feeling the moment slipping away even as you uttered the words as you realized he’d walk away once he knew you weren’t here long-term. “I’m leaving tomorrow actually.”

You saw the disappointment flash across his face for a moment, and you felt your heart sink even further as you waited for his words of rejection. But they never came. Instead he surprised you once more by grinning that stupidly gorgeous smile again. “Can I have your number then? I’d love to keep in contact.”

“Um, yeah, okay,” you said, pulling out your phone before entering his number into your contacts and shooting him a quick text to let him know it was you.

“Thanks,” he said before leaning forward and wrapping you up into a quick hug. It was unexpected and you barely had time to put your hands on his sides before he was gone, his scent of gunpowder, sweat, and what you could only describe as old books, permeating your senses and leaving you with a sense of familiarity you knew you’d not soon forget.

**********

It was nice meeting you last night. Hope to see you again soon.

You stared down at the text, a grin spreading across your face. You knew you shouldn’t get too excited. He could just be playing you, waiting until he got his chance with you. But you couldn’t help it. Not when your insides felt like jello and your heart felt a spark of something you hadn’t felt in years.

Yeah, me too….

You and Sam texted for weeks after that, getting to know one another slowly. Neither of you wanted to rush into anything, much to your relief. You realized Sam had been just as wounded as you, with as many, if not more, scars than you. He understood your hesitance and wariness, and he was willing to wait for as long as he needed to.

“Any chance you’ll be near Lebanon, Kansas anytime soon?” Sam whispered through the phone one early morning as you lay in bed while the rest of the world slept, unwilling to say goodbye to the other’s soothing and now familiar voice.

You paused and bit your lip at his question. You were currently in Washington state, hundreds of miles from where he was. You had been on the run from a hunter that had picked up your trail and you’d been hunkering down for a few days while you tried to lose his trail. You knew they shouldn’t, but Sam’s hopeful words tugged at your heart and although you had no previous plans to be, and against your better judgement, you found yourself telling him you’d actually be in Kansas the following week.

Sam was delightfully surprised, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you listened to his animated voice as he told you exactly what he wanted to do and where he wanted to take you. And after your day began and Sam became busy with whatever he did, you’d get a few texts throughout the day - updates on where he wanted to take you and what he thought you might like.

The date was wonderful and more magical than you ever imagined a date could be. Sam was kind and attentive, always a gentleman and always making sure you knew he had eyes only for you. It was different and new and something you found yourself craving even when you told yourself to not get attached. You found yourself falling for him hard. And when he’d kiss you or hold you in his arms late at night after he’d made love to you like you were the only woman left on Earth, you’d listen to his strong and steady heartbeat. You’d trace his skin with abstract patterns as his fingers seared your own skin and you’d realize this was the only place you wanted to be.

You’d leave again, sometimes for weeks and sometimes only for a few days, more often than not running from a hunter when they’d get too close to the motel you and Sam always got when you came into Lebanon. But then one day, you stopped running altogether. You felt safer with Sam than you had with anyone, even yourself, in the last seven years. He made you feel safe and secure - as if nothing could touch you. And while you knew another hunter would eventually come along, that risk was worth taking if it meant Sam was by your side.

Sam was beyond thrilled when you said you were moving to Lebanon and he had immediately offered to move you in with him and Dean, stating there was more than enough room for everyone when you started to protest. He’d finally worn you down and you agreed, your heart fluttering at the thought of finally having a family of your own again.

Sam was helping you load your meager belongings into his car when he paused, his stance going rigid. “What’s the matter?” you asked, trying to peer over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.

He turned towards you, his movements slow and mechanical. The first thing you noticed was the soft suspicion in his eyes before you glanced down to see the picture of your family in his hands. “Who is this?” he asked, his voice quiet and monotone.

“My family,” you said with a wistful smile. “They...they died...a long time ago.”

You looked back up at him, his face twisted in some kind of pain. You frowned at his reaction as he turned his gaze once more to the photo in his hands with a certain regretful recognition, and your stomach lurched.

“You...you’re a hunter.” Your words were meant to come out as a question, but instead your voice was a fearful statement.

His gaze shot to your face, and he didn’t even have to say yes; his eyes held all the answers you didn’t want to accept.

You huffed out a harsh chuckle as your entire world came crashing down around you. You looked at the ground in disbelief, but the next second your head snapped back up as another harsher more gut-wrenching thought entered your mind. “You...you murdered my family…. Didn’t you?”

Sam’s face contorted, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes heavy with sadness. “(Y/N),” Sam breathed, taking a step towards you.

“No,” you whispered, stepping backwards.

Sam tried again but you simply continued to back up, your heart in your throat as you stared at him with a mixture of unbelief and horror. It wasn’t until your heel hit the curb that your mind came back to the present and a sense of dread and fear washed over you.

“No!” you screamed, darting past him just as his fingertips brushed your skin. You ran away, abandoning everything and ignoring the calls of your name.

You weren’t sure how long you ran before you collapsed on the side of the road, your body heaving with sobs. Your entire time with Sam had been based on lies and a false sense of security. Sam was a hunter; you were a vampire and he had killed your entire family - the only one you’d ever had.

You cried harder than you ever remembered crying even before you were turned. You cried for the family you had never allowed yourself to grieve, you cried for the pain you carried, and you cried for the love and new life you had lost.

It was nearly dusk by the time your tears finally subsided and you pushed yourself up off the ground and dusted off your hands and knees. You glanced around, taking in the isolation of the deserted road and surrounding foliage. You had to be miles from the nearest town. Your feet hurt, your skin was sticky, and your hair sweaty, but you had to keep moving. Nowhere was safe anymore - not even in the arms of the man you loved.

You started walking, making your way to some unknown destination. You walked until you felt you couldn’t walk anymore, and then you walked some more. It was dawn before you reached the next town, finding a small, grimy motel. You got yourself a room with the little bit of cash leftover in your pocket and tumbled onto the mattress, falling into a restless sleep that was plagued by painful memories and images of Sam.

**********

When you next awoke, the room was dark. You rolled onto your side, a groan falling past your lips; your body ached and you were still exhausted, feeling as if you hadn’t slept a wink.

“You okay?” a deep voice broke the silence and you jumped, rushing to turn on the lamp beside you.

You swept your gaze around the room, your stomach dropping when you found Sam in the chair in the corner of the room. You backed up as a sense of dread fell over you, your back hitting the headboard and preventing you from going any further. “H...how did you get in here?”

“Lock pick,” he said bluntly. “You forget I’m a hunter.”

“What are you doing here, Sam?” you asked, putting more bravado in her voice than you were actually feeling. “Did you come to gloat? Maybe to finish what you started all those years ago?”

Sam’s face twisted into a look of utter anguish as if your words had been a slap in the face. “I could never hurt you, (Y/N). Never,” he said staunchly.

“But yet you could murder my nest. My family! The people I loved more than anything,” you spat, venom lacing your words.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “(Y/N)...baby…” he whispered softly, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know…. I was young and naive and stupid. I thought all monsters were bad. I didn’t know there were some, like you and your family, who were trying to live normal lives; who held no malice and posed no danger to humans…. Fuck, (Y/N), if I could go back...with what I know now. Baby, I would do things differently.”

His voice was sincere and a part of you wanted to believe what he was saying, but you had run from hunters your entire life. There was no gray area; not where hunters were concerned. “How can I trust you? How do I know you’re being truthful?”

Sam paused for a moment, studying your face carefully. Finally he spoke. “Would a hunter who wanted to kill you tell you that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on?” Sam asked, getting up from his perch and taking a step towards you.

“Would he tell you that you made him feel more alive than he’s felt in years? That you’re the first thing on his mind when he wakes up and the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep?” Your breath hitched at his words, your heart pounding as he took another step closer.

“Would he tell you he stopped believing in love a long time ago, but that you reawakened something inside him that makes him believe you might just be his second chance?” Tears pricked at your eyes as he came closer, his knees pressing into the side of the mattress as he stared down at you. He didn’t speak as he lowered himself down onto the bed beside you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Would a hunter who was trying to kill you do this?” Without warning, Sam reached out and gripped your biceps, pulling you into him forcefully before crashing his lips to yours. It took you a moment to respond, but then your arms were around his neck as you kissed him back with emotion that was comparable to a thousand suns.

You were breathless when you finally broke the kiss. Sam’s eyes were filled with so much love and tenderness as he leaned his forehead against yours, his arms never leaving your waist. “Do you believe me now?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed, closing your eyes as he leaned in to kiss you again, softly this time. “But Sam...I’m a vampire. You’re a hunter.”

“And I don’t care,” Sam said with conviction. “(Y/N), you’ve made me feel things I didn’t think I’d ever feel again. You've brought me back to life, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You smiled as a tear slipped down your cheek. Sam wanted you. It was more than you could even comprehend. You never thought you’d feel love again, and especially not from a human. But here he was, pouring out his heart and baring his soul.

“But there’ll be hunters…others that want to see me dead,” you whispered, your words laced with pain.

Sam’s face hardened and his jaw ticked as his hands tightened around you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist. “I’ll protect you then,” he promised, his voice confident and sure. “Because I want you. I need you. I love you. And I’ll be damned if anyone tries to come between us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[australiancarisi]

Rafael Barba ~ Just Some...

Sometimes Rafael gets insecure and when he does he speaks his mind words: 2178 This has literally been sitting in my drafts half-finished since march oops

“Why hello Mr ADA to what do I owe the pleasure so bright and early?” You smiled up at Rafael from your desk. It had just gone 10, rarely did Rafael come to the precinct before noon. It had been a few days since you had seen Rafael, he had been in court and the squad had recently had an influx of cases. You looked your boyfriend up and down, god he looked good today. He always looks good but today.... extra good.

“Looking for Liv” Rafael mumbled before looking around at the empty precinct “where is everyone?”

“Fin and Nick have gone to the victim's old high school, Dodds and Carisi are getting all the doctor's examination details and Liv and Rollins... I think talking to the vic’s family but I’m not too sure” you shrugged

“Why are you here then?” he asked. You frowned for a second taking your boyfriend in. He was acting strange. The normally cocky Cuban, who, when given an empty precinct, would normally jump at the chance to flirt and kiss you at work, just stood against Carisi’s desk with his hands in his pockets looking anything but cocky.

“Paperwork” you said holding up the files “I’m too far behind apparently” you rolled your eyes “you okay?”

“Yeah fine” Rafael shrugged “get Liv to call me when she in”

“Will do” you frowned as Rafael turned on his heels and walked away. In the nearly 3 years that you had been dating Rafael that was not how he acted with you, not even in the first year of you guys dating when you were still hiding it from everyone.

You and Rafael started dating just under a year after you joined SVU. You came from major crimes after SVU had a high profile case that you had helped them on. They were understaffed at the time so Liv asked your lieutenant if you could help out more. After a month of working with SVU, you knew it was where you belong. You fit in well with the team despite being a relatively young detective, you liked that you were able to help people and make a difference. It felt like you belonged there. Everything was great, except for one thing. You and Rafael did not get along. He saw things clearly in black and white whereas you saw grey. You bent the rules, so much so that they would nearly snap in half Rafael would say, and he didn’t like that. The two of you would fight and argue like cats and dogs. It wasn’t until you were put on his detail after he revealed that he was getting death threats did the two of you start to feel sparks.

You and Sonny were given the night shift after Rafael gave a guy his home address on the steps of the courthouse that day.

“I mean seriously who does that?” You grumbled as you heard Rafael get in the shower “I don’t want to be here!”

“Suck it up doll face” Sonny grinned at you

“I had leftover Thai food in my fridge! I’ve been looking forward to it all day!” You huffed like a child “if he wants to be stupid enough to give out his address that’s on him”

“Come on y/n we can’t just let him get murdered. Who else would put up with your crazy ideas?” Sonny laughed taking a seat on the couch.

“Put up with? Your kidding right? He shuts down all my ideas”

“That’s because they are usually nearly illegal”

“Exactly nearly illegal not actually illegal” Sonny was about to reply when his phone rang. You got comfy on the couch as he walked away to answer.

“I’ve gotta go” Sonny said grabbing the suit jacket that he had hung over the back of one of the chairs when he had walked in.

“Everything okay?” You frowned

“It’s Bella. She fell down some stairs and hit her heard. Knocked herself out” Sonny said

“Oh my god, Sonny go” you said basically pushing him out the door

“Are you going to be okay on your own?” Sonny asked

“We’ll be fine and at the first sign of trouble I'll call for back up I promise”

“Okay... I’ll let you know what happens” Sonny said before racing out the door. When the door closed behind him you took a moment to look around the apartment. It was just how you expected it to look. Not that you ever pictured Rafael’s apartment... it was relatively big for a New York apartment, open and airy with dark wood floors and bookcase upon bookcases. You moved around the apartment to have a closer look at things. The place really looked like a display home. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. There wasn’t any real sign of living besides the files Rafael had out of the table when he walked in and the single photo of him and who you assumed were his mother and grandmother. They all had the same eyes. You kept looking around Rafael’s apartment. You pulled out a law book and started flicking through it.

“I’m pretty sure being a part of my protective detail isn’t to look through my stuff” you jumped at Rafael’s voice.

You spent the night at Barba’s, despite the constant complaining from him. It took the squad about a week to find and arrest the people threatening Barba. Catching them, however, didn’t stop you from telling Barba what an idiot he was in the first place. The two of you bickered back and forth for months until it built up and burst when Barba cupped your face and kissed you late one night in his office while you were arguing about a case. That kiss led to taking him back to your place.

After a couple months of fooling around together, the two of you decided to actually pursue a relationship. It was actually after Rafael got jealous after a case. He and the squad went out to a bar to celebrate. You’re young, the youngest on the squad and there were a lot of people throwing themselves at you. Rafael was not happy with that. You disclosed 2 months after officially getting together after Nick accidentally walked in on the two of you in Rafael’s office.

Over a couple of hours, everyone had made their way back to the precinct. You’d finally caught up on enough paperwork to be able to get in on the current case. You tired texting Rafael throughout the day but got no response. Which was weird. Rafael always responded to your messages no matter who he was with unless he was in court but you knew he wasn’t. The squad were sitting around throwing out theories and evidence on the case, which unfortunately wasn’t much at all.

“So basically what you are saying is we have nothing” Fin sighed “We need a warrant to search the teacher's house”

“Barba is not going to get us a warrant based on this” Sonny said pointing to the whiteboard

“Not us but maybe....” Amanda trailed off as she turned her attention to you

“Normally I would agree but not today” you frowned at your phone, still no response

“What have you done this time?” Mike smirked as you grabbed a nearby piece of paper and threw it at him

“Nothing! He was here earlier looking for Liv. Did you talk to him?” You asked

“He wanted to go over some motions the defence in the Merlot case were filing” Liv said

“Did he seem normal to you?”

“As normal as Barba can be” Nick laughed earning high fives from Amanda and Mike, two which you threw paper at them as well. Liv shrugged and the conversation went back to the case at hand.

After another couple of hours and you finally had enough evidence to get a warrant. Mike threw the file down on your table. 

“Why me?” You asked 

“Just to make sure we actually get the warrant, get the warrant and then you can clock off for the day” Mike smirked “No funny business while you’re still on the clock” 

“Seriously how are you a Sargent?” You rolled your eyes before picking up your phone “Hey Carmen... Need to come down and talk him into getting us a warrant just wanna check he’s free...huh...no he didn’t...okay thanks” 

“Everything good?” Sonny asked 

“Yeah all good” you smiled packing up your stuff and picking up the file “I’ll let you guys know if I can convince him to try and get us the warrant” 

You left the precinct and headed straight to Rafael’s place. The two of you spent most nights at either his place or yours, more often his because it was closer to both the courthouse and the precinct then yours and the fact that Rafael usually worked later than you. You’d have to go and pull him out of his office. 

But not tonight. 

Carmen informed you that Rafael had left the office an hour before you called. This wasn’t like Rafael. Leaving work early... Not responding to messages... something was up. 

You quietly opened the door to Rafael’s apartment using the spare key Rafael had given you. Rafael was sitting in his armchair, scotch in hand. The apartment was eerily quiet. 

“Hey Raf” You said breaking the silence. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at you. “Hey... Rafi... are you okay?” 

“Of course why wouldn’t I be?” Rafael asked taking a sip of his drink, still never looking at you. You sighed and threw your stuff down. 

“Rafael, what is going on?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I haven’t seen you outside of the courthouse or precinct in days and you are giving me nothing” you said “So I repeat what is going on?” 

“I saw you the other day on the steps of the courthouse” Rafael said after a moment of silence. You frowned trying to think back. “with that beat cop” 

“... Officer Jackson? the rookie? the new guy at our precinct?” You asked

“Your precinct” he corrected “and yes... you looked... cosy” 

“... Rafael... are you jealous? Seriously? of some kid?” You asked. Rafael had a jealous streak, it was the reason you got together because he couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. He was overprotective as well. He hated having to watch you go on stings and into interrogations with violent men or having to watch you flirt with them. 

“You say some kid as if you weren’t in his shoes not too long ago” Rafael mumbled. It was something that was joked about a bit between you and the squad, the fact that there was a bit of an age gap between you and Rafael. It never bothered you and Rafael though. 

“Rafi... really?” You asked him,. He just shrugged and took another sip of scotch. “So you saw me with another cop and now you’re being a moody teenager?” 

“He’s young, a cop. You were laughing...smiling...” Rafael sighed “I just don’t get it... Out of everyone you picked me and that surprises me cause I was alway last inline” 

“Not my line” you smiled

“That’s why I’m overprotective of you” Rafael said finally looking you in the eye placing the scotch on the coffee table next to him. “I have something... someone that I don’t deserve and I don’t want to lose it” 

“Rafi” you whispered. You slowly moved closer to him hoping that he would let you in. When he didn’t object you sat in his lap. You wrapped an arm around him, running your fingers through the back of his hair. 

“Sometimes it still hits me...” Rafael whispered “Like why me? Why does she want to spend the rest of her with me?” 

“Rafi, why wouldn’t I? You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. A soul mate, a best friend. You are everything to me Rafi” You said “I love you Rafi, you and only you” 

“You deserve so much more than me”

“Why? Why do you think that?” 

“Because I’m just some fat Cuban kid from the Bronx. Who had a crappy dad, who couldn’t look after himself I always had to have Eddie or Alex fix my problems” 

“Just some... Rafael, you are a lawyer, not just any lawyer but a Harvard educated lawyer. You are a respected New York City ADA... You might not see how amazing you are but I do” 

“You deserve-” 

“I get to decide what I deserve” You cut him off “and I deserve you. I love you. I love you more than anything and no young rookie is gonna ever take me from you” 

“Thank you” Rafael sighed. You leant down and kissed him 

“Now a hot defence lawyer well....” you smirked at him causing him to laugh 

“I love you” Rafael kissed your hand that wasn’t in his hair. 

“Don’t forget it” you grinned at him “Now the actual reason I’m here we need a warrant for.......”