#I’m straight passing and probably get lumped in with those people so I don’t know how it feels to not be in that position

[strangestofthings12]

Hey. I don’t have a lot to say. Or I do but I don’t know how and I don’t even think I would help but I do have to say this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that trump won and I’m sorry we are going to suffer for it. I am here if someone needs to talk. I don’t get on this account very often and I might make a post on my main account but I don’t think this will reach many people either way but I want to put it out there because I know how horrible everything feels right now at least for me.

I don’t really know what to say still but I just wanted to say that I’m here and people who want to talk I’m more then happy to listen because sometimes you just need to get that negativity out. If there is anything I can say or add to this to help that I can think of I’ll add it but I’m tired and should sleeping so I’m gonna try. Goodnight and I hope everyone who reads this knows that I’m rooting for them even though that might not mean a lot I still am and I wanted to say it.

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[snarltoothed]

Its pathetic how you're trans exclusionary and also bisexual & agender. Do you think that if transphobia continues they're not coming for you next? You think you're safe from being called a freak or a pedophile or from being accused of invading other people's spaces? From legislation and the dominant social paradigm othering you and making your life hell? You think throwing others under the bus will save you? You're a fucking coward and I hope you get a sense of reality.

i totally forgot that you even sent this ask because guilt-tripping from random strangers really doesn’t faze me — sorry!

anyways, umm, it’s pathetic how you’re sending random feminists hate mail over something that is literally not even true! i fully include trans and nonbinary people within my feminism — just not transwomen and nonbinary males because i believe female people of any gender still face challenges, discrimination, and oppression directly related to the sex we were born as!

…which wait, before you tell me intersex people exist, i know that! but intersex disorders are medically sex-specific and binary, and in the extremely rare case that a chromosomal male was born and grew up with entirely female external genitalia (usually as a result of Sweyer syndrome), i’m fully open to nuance when it comes to their inclusion within the radical feminist movement, especially given that the trans/qu**r movement has repeatedly ignored the requests of both individual intersex people and intersex organizations to stop equating the trans and intersex experience. it’s not like they can turn to you guys for any actual understanding or compassion.

in my LGB advocacy, trans people are also not excluded based on their gender identity! the only people excluded from my LGB advocacy are heterosexuals — which yes, i’m sorry, i do live in the real world where sexuality is based on actual physical sex, so yeah… “transbians” and “gay transmascs” are generally excluded (those open to or exclusively T4T aside) on the basis that they do not experience same sex attraction. but if you’re not straight, congratulations! my LGB advocacy is also for you.

the “agender woman” in my bio is also mostly a joke, “agender” more as in “atheist” — i do not subscribe to the belief system of gender. although, if i did, that’s probably still how i would describe myself because even if i thought that innate gender identity was a thing for other people, i don’t have one. i don’t identify with femininity. i do identify with my lived experience of being female. idk how else i would explain that in your community without being scalped, lol. and it’s poking a little bit of fun at my teenage self for actually genuinely telling the more micro-label oriented of my peers that the best i could describe myself was as a “demibisexual agender girl”.

if anything, though, the people standing in my way of being freely truly agender and living as a woman are BOTH conservatives and the trans/qu**r movement, because i really don’t want to have to have an ideological argument with either of you about what the fuck my leg hair means, i don’t want to be assigned a non-woman for having body hair and not being extremely feminine by EITHER of you! you are both supporting a dominant social paradigm which others me and women like me, it’s only the way in which you shame me and make me feel like a freak that differs.

i’m fully aware how the American political parties have lumped very separate issues into the same bills and are practicing other nefarious political schemes to remove womens’, childrens’, and LBG peoples’ rights by using the decrease in public support of the trans/qu**r movement to pass bills and laws that otherwise wouldn’t be passed… because y’all keep supporting fucking pedophiles? maybe stop doing that or if you personally aren’t, tell your buddies that trans people can be horrific criminals, just like any other subset of people, because all individuals are different, and murderers and rapists and pedophiles don’t deserve public support even if they’re trans. the fact that the most vocal of the trans community keep defending and supporting convincted pedophiles, rapists, and other dangerous violent criminals simply on the basis that they are trans is a large part of WHY many of us “cis” LGB people are publicly separating ourselves from the TQ+, we know how bad that shit looks and have historically condemned the members of our own communities who have been revealed to be pedophiles and rapists. not to mention the fact that the heterosexual TQs are like, wildly homophobic.

pretending outright that trans people cannot be violent criminals is something that can and rightfully should be criticized — i would criticize the assertion that any protected minority class status makes a person immune to any sort of violent criminology, or otherwise not deserving of facing consequences for committing violent crime, especially sexual violence against children, including the minority classes i belong to. i’m certainly not against trans people recieving proper legal defense, and i believe trans people deserve the same presumption of innocence as anyone else until proven guilty in a court of law… and while i do not believe males belong in female prisons (as inmates OR staff, tbh), i do believe that prisons in general are in desperate need of reform and that that reform should be considerate of the needs of vulnerable male populations such as transwomen and gay men for safety from other men while also maintaining female-only prisons.

i don’t know what you expect me, a poor & disabled woman living in a northern democrat-controlled state, to do about the shady shit happening in Florida and elsewhere in the American south. i’m not even in a position to vote on anything that could be considered “throwing other people under the bus”. the biggest things i’ve voted for were keeping the state democratic, legalizing weed, and protecting the right to abortion. i’m sooo politically evil and throwing so many people under the bus and totally perpetuating a genocide… which i guess if you’re a conservative you could say about the fetuses, but, since you’re barking up my tree for siding with conservatives, i’m hoping that you’re at least fucking pro-choice.

I’m not trying to be mean here, but you kinda came up in my inbox being mean first… so frankly I think you’re the coward for not thinking independently and for needing to harass women who do, and I hope YOU gain some sense of reality, as well as empathy and nuance.

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[wormstacheangel]

For The Girl Who Has Everything

Masterpost link for Reelin’ In The Years: Here

AO3 Link: Here

wc: 2.4k Summary:  Claire is too mad to even look at Cas let alone talk to him. Dean knew he had to step up because two people with messed up childhoods and anger issues really need to spend more time together talking about their feelings.

When Chuck was defeated, a lot of people came to the bunker to celebrate. Those times were a big blur to Dean, his focus was on finding a way to save Cas, and it wasn’t until he saw Claire run down those steps that the world focused again. She smiled at him, a rare big grin, before her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him down for a hug with an intoxicating giggle.

‘She didn’t know,’ Dean thought as his arms hung loosely at his sides.

He hid his face in her curls, not knowing how to face another kid Cas left behind because of him. He was holding his breath when she pulled away to look at him. Her eyebrows were raised in a question that Dean didn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear.

She repeated it, “Dude, where’s Cas? Is the old man sleeping or something?”

‘Yes.’ Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat.

He didn’t look at the audience around them when he finally opened his mouth to say, “Claire, Ca—” He couldn’t say his name. He felt like it would tear the fragile wall that was keeping him on his feet if he did. “I’m sorry.”

Dean watched as her face twisted into confusion, understanding, and then settling into anger.

She was trying to fight the tears, but they fell as she yelled, “No! No, you were—Where were you? Why didn’t you protect him?”

“He protected me. He—he saved me.”

She looked at him with round eyes, shaking her head as if not wanting to believe it.

“Then it should’ve been you! You should’ve died! Not him!” Dean flinched at the words that have been echoing in his head since that night. “It’s not fair!”

Claire’s angry fist collided with his chest. He flinched at every hit but didn’t back away as her punches became sporadic but still filled with grief. Maybe even guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Dean knew those words did nothing to comfort, but he couldn’t help but say them. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”

She screamed in frustration until her punches weakened, and he was holding her. Then, finally, she fell against him, her face hidden in his chest as her grip tightened on his shirt.

She didn’t stay after that.

She walked back up the stairs with Jody and Kaia following behind her. Jack tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t even look at him. Dean couldn’t blame her.

It’s hard to look at the kid when he reminded them of the person they lost.

Of course, Dean never told Cas any of this.

Since coming back, Cas had been dealing with the silent treatment from the killer Barbie. She only replied with the thumbs-up emoji, and when Cas was too much, she responded with the middle finger emoji. A little warning advising Cas to back off.

She only visited him once, but that was when Cas was in the hospital. She freaked out, yelled at him for being stupid, and then passed out by his bed only to leave the next morning like nothing ever happened. Still, it made Cas feel a little better knowing she still cared, but she was dealing with it her way. Or, as Cas liked to say, she was dealing with feelings the Dean Winchester way. Of course, he’ll argue it wasn’t true, but he knows he won’t win that one.

Now he was sitting awkwardly in Jody’s living room watching Kaia and Patience play with Jack on the floor while Claire and Cas had a yelling match in the privacy of the backyard. Well, Claire was yelling while Cas was trying very hard to keep his tone even, which only made Claire angrier.

“I’m done talking to you!” Claire slid the glass door open and stormed through the living room.

“Then try listening to me!” Cas followed behind her, watching as she walked straight past the living room and towards the front door. “Claire. Claire, where are you going?”

She whipped around to glare daggers at Cas, eyes wide filled with tears, but she still looked at him with a pained grimace. “Did you even think of me? When you were out there being a damn hero. Did you-Did you think of me?” Her voice breaking on the last word made Dean flinch.

“Claire, of course-”

“No. No, of course, you didn’t. Cause if you did, then you wouldn’t have-” She bit her cheek as tears started to fall. She stood tall, presenting as strong, as her expression hardened. “You left me, Castiel. And now I-I don’t,” She looked around the room. It was quiet as everyone watched the interaction before her eyes landed on a little Jack in Kaia’s arms. She clicked her tongue before turning back to the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Claire.” Cas tried following her, but Dean quickly rushed up to stop him. “Dean. I may not have my strength, but I will-”

“Calm down, Rocky,” Dean had a hand on Cas’s shoulder to stop him. “I just wanted to stop you from making it worse.”

“I don’t think I can. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t.” He assures his boyfriend with a little smile, but Cas simply rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, you stay here. Talk to your son, and I’ll go talk to the other kid.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to say to her?”

“I don’t know, but like you said before. Two fuck up’s just understand each other.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just let me handle this. You trust me, right?”

Cas made a face at that, not answering quickly enough before he said, “Just bring her home.”

“Gee. Thanks for the confidence, babe.”

Dean ran after Claire, forcing his way to her passenger side as she started to back up on the driveway.

“Thanks for waiting, kid. Where we going?” Dean buckled up just in time for Claire to slam the breaks. Unfortunately, he hit his head on the front dash because the damn seat was scooted forward, his knees were practically pressed against his chest, which made sense knowing a tiny Kaia would usually occupy the seat. “Ow.”

“You aren’t going anywhere. Get out.”

Dean ignored her scary and oddly familiar glare as he pushed the seat back so his legs could fit. “Oh, come on. My treat.”

She didn’t have time to argue because Cas walked out of the front door—his trust in him really was lacking—and Claire decided that dealing with Dean was much easier than having to talk to Cas again. But, of course, he would take that as a compliment.

Claire drove with loud rocker girl music vibrating the windows and didn’t stop until she finally parked outside some ice cream shop.

“I want a shake.” She sniffled, and Dean did his best to ignore her red blotchy eyes for her sake.

“Sure, kid.”

They drank their shakes and shared some fries while sitting on top of Claire’s ugly little red. Well, she sat, and he leaned, but either way, silence remained.

He didn’t want to pressure her to talk—she would probably lie if he did—but still, he wanted to ease the tension between Cas and her, salvage a relationship he knew was important to both of them, but he didn’t know where to start.

Maybe he could start with his own guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat as he felt the smooth ice cream start to turn to gum down his throat. He looked down at his shake, lifting the straw up and down to hear the gloppy sound while trying to figure out what to say to her.

She hummed, “‘bout what?”

“Not telling you. About Cas. What happened to him.” He sighed and looked back at her. “Sorry. I should have called, but I wasn’t—I was a mess. I couldn’t be there for you. I couldn’t even be there for Jack. I should have-”

“It’s okay.” She waved her hand up to stop him. “I-I get it. I mean, it’s not, but whatever.”

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re mad?”

She rolled her eyes, once again the gesture was familiar, before slamming the shake on the hood and sliding off the car. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking so small as she kicked a pebble on the floor.

“He replaced me.”

Her voice was quiet. Almost like she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I know it’s stupid and-and I’m acting like a child, but…” She quickly sniffled again before running her hand through her hair nervously. Looking up to stare into the darkening sky, acting like everything was okay. “He’s not my Dad, but he’s the closest thing I have, and I just thought—I just thought that maybe he felt the same way.”

She shrugged, her lips pinching together as if trying to hold something back, before retaking control of her expression. A glare directed towards Dean replaced the lost child stare into the stars, but the lost child was still there.

“Kid…” Dean sighed, head scrambling for words.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me.”

Claire teased with a little smirk. She definitely learned this from Dean or Jody. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“Old—Claire.” She let out a breath of a laugh before rolling her eyes away from Dean. “I’m trying to be serious. Cas… he loves you. He-he loves you like you were his own.” She didn’t look at him, but he could see her face scrunch up, ready to argue. “He worries about you constantly, and Jack knows all about you because he won’t shut up about how awesome you are.”

“He says that? He says I’m awesome?”

“Well, awesome is my word, but you get the gist.” He turns to face her even though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Cas may not be your Dad, but he loves you like a daughter. Sometimes—yeah, a lot of the time actually—he makes stupid decisions, but it’s cause he is trying his best. And he cares. That dumbass cares way too much about the damn world, but he’s also someone who would give up the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Stop making excuses for him!”

“Claire, you gotta believe me. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She finally turned to look at him. “But he did. He hurt me! He left me!”

“He left me too!” Dean raised his voice; it sounded broken to admit such a thing out loud. And to Claire of all people. He slumped down against the car again and looked at the ground to ignore her big blue eyes throwing sympathy glares his way. “He left me—more times than you know. And—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—but I…I was scared. Each goddamn time I’m scared that this may be it! That this time…this time he won’t come back to me.”

“But he did.” Her voice sounded so far away.

“Yeah. Had to work a little bit harder on my end, but I got him.” He reached over and patted her shoulder. “We got him back.”

Something in the way her eyes went cold and far away made his fight drain out. He didn’t know what else he could do or say, but he opened his arms just in time to have her fall against him. His face mushed into her curls while he hugged her tight into his chest.

“Were you mad at Cas?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “No. I mean, I was at first. That asshole got himself killed over and over again. Leaving me alone.”

“But you had Sam. Jack.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled back and looked down at her. “Well, you had Jody. Kaia. Alex. Patience and even Donna. Made it any easier for you?”

“No.”

“No.” He chuckled while she hid her face from him, asking him to continue. “But I was mad at him. Real fucking pissed, actually. At him. At…at everyone. Sam and Jack didn’t even wanna be near me.” He tries to shake off those dark memories of screaming and feeling nothing but agonizing loneliness. “I just shut down and gave up on…a lot of things because he was gone. Couldn’t really see a point, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I get why you’re mad, Claire. Trust me, I do, but he’s back now.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive him? Did you just forgive him?”

Dean shrugged, looking back down at her sad baby blues. Hoping she would understand and that she won’t tease him about it later on. “I didn’t want to waste any time being mad at him. I love him too much.”

“Gross.” She pushed him away this time, tucking her hair behind her ear before smiling at him. It reminded him of Jack’s little shy smile. “But I-I think you’re right. Maybe I’m done wasting time.”

They drove back with the music luckily a little lower but Dean just watched Claire drive with a growing smile on his face. He’s gonna have to admit that Cas was right, two messed up people can really relate and help each other out.

When they walked into the house, Dean took Jody from marching over to Claire to lecture her. “Just wait,” he whispered to her, and luckily she listened to him. They both held their breath as Claire walked over to Cas—who looked like he had been sitting in that seat freaking out since they left—and asked if they could try talking outside again. He blinked up at her a few times before nodding, following her to the backyard again.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief when the glass door closed behind them.

“Dean.” He looked up towards his kid, who reached for him from Kaia’s arms on the couch. Dean quickly walked over to pick him up, pressing a kiss to his head while trying not to let guilt eat at him. “Is Dad okay?”

“Don’t worry, bud.” Dean watched Jack’s eyes that showed how much he has experienced, how much he understood. “He’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

On the drive back, Cas had a smile plastered across his face. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened, considering Cas walked in, ready to introduce Jack to Claire. Then Cas spent the rest of the night watching his kids getting along, looking the happiest Dean had seen him in a really long time.

“So, what did you and Claire talk about?”

Cas hummed before looking up at Dean as if just remembering that he was there. “Oh. Um, she just made me promise her something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Same thing I promised you. Don’t get dead anymore.”

“Oh. Good. Keep that promise.”

“I’ll do my best.” Cas looked back at Jack before he leaned over and pressed a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I have a lot to live for now. A family.”

A family. Yeah.

Dean took a peek at Jack with the mirror and then watched as Cas changed his phone background pic to one of Claire spinning Jack around in the living room.

They were a real family.

[quillquiver]

and it’s good

DeanCas coda to 15x19: ‘Inherit the Hearth’

He hasn’t stopped praying.

From an empty world to one filled with people, Dean has gone to his knees every night—on the floor, the gravel, the dirt—and prayed. Head down. Face pressed to his knuckles. Dear Cas…

From each failed plan to their eventual, anti-climactic victory, Dean shares it all. And when it’s all over, when they wake up the morning after with no Jack, no Cas and no world to save, it’s bittersweet. Confusing. Like being released into the wild after living in a cage.

Where does he go from here? What does he do?

What does he want?

Sam doesn’t have a problem finding his own answers, but then again, he never has; he was the one with the life outside The Life: the college boy, the dreamer. Dean… Dean needs some time to adjust. Regroup. Grieve, maybe—whatever the hell that looks like. So, he serves himself a bottle of Jack, grabs a box of Pop Tarts, and makes his way to his recliner. First day of freedom? Dr. Sexy and sweet oblivion sound awesome.

“Hey, uh, what’re you—” Sam cuts himself off, skidding to a halt in the doorway of the Dean Cave. He’s got that pinched look on his face, the one that means: inevitable bitch face, concerned edition. Dean waves him off.

“Chilling out,” he mutters, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Figure I deserve a vacation.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “A vacation.”

“Yeah, genius. A vacation. You know, a little me time?” Dean takes another pull. “You got a problem with that?”

Sam shifts his weight. Frowns at the floor. It’s weird to see him like this; he’s so big, now, but that move is straight out of his teen years—when he’d been gangly and awkward and angry and unsure. He looks up, resolved, and Dean heaves an internal sigh. Whatever the fuck Sam is trying to do, he doesn’t want any part in it.

“What if you come with me?”

“Nope.”

“Dean—”

“Look, Sammy, we fought the big fight, we won, there ain’t nothing left to do,” Dean says reasonably, bitterly, turning back to the DVD menu. “So I don’t wanna go into town, or to the store, or wherever else you’re planning on gallivanting to today. I’m gonna watch my show, drown myself in booze and pass the fuck out, because that is what I’m owed. Capiche?”

“Eileen texted. I’m… I’m going to go get her.”

It’s weird, Dean thinks, how many times a heart can break. He clenches his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly. Allows himself a second—one second—of envy and jealousy before he slaps a smile on his face and nods. “Good,” he says. He means it. “You should.”

“So…” Sam trails off.

“So…” Dean echoes.

“…Come with.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna crash your romantic reunion okay? That’s weird.”

“Dean—”

“Sam.” And there’s more that comes out in that word than he ever intended. It hangs heavy in the air between them before dropping to the ground like a stone. Loud. Shattering on impact. Dean thinks his voice might have cracked and his vision is blurring because this pity? This is fucking worse. Shoving a Pop Tart in his mouth, Dean chews with his mouth open in the vain hope that his table manners will prove an adequate distraction, but that shit hasn’t worked for a long time.

It tastes like sawdust.

“Just go,” he says. “You have to go, man.”

It’s as much a plea for his brother as it is for himself, and for one long, terrifying moment Dean thinks Sam’s going to refuse. That he’s gonna be dragged across the country to witness his brother find happiness in a way he will never be able to have.

…But Sam is kind, not cruel, and when those big eyes of his fill with tears, Dean has never been so happy to have given himself up. He watches as his little brother’s shoulders slump. As he readjusts his duffle.

“I’ll be home in two days,” Sam says. “If you’re dead, I’m gonna pissed.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean replies, forcing himself to tease. To be excited. He deserves this. “Go sing in the rain or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Sam volleys back, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He looks so happy, and Dean can’t stop himself from mirroring the expression. It hits him all at once, then—a sucker punch to the gut, the heart—that no matter what, he did right by his little brother. That he’s grown up to be smart, and kind and caring, and now he can be happy. And Dean—Dean’ll figure it out. But Sam’s taken care of and that’s… good. That’s a lot.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Mm.”

“I love you,” Sam says. He’s seven and thirty-seven and Dean feels something inside himself ease and break all at once.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”

Sam grins.

***

There’s no more frozen pizza.

It’s already a fucking travesty that the pizza place doesn’t deliver to their secret underground bunker, but Jack polished off the last two pies—and while it’s a little bit hilarious to think of the ‘New God’ (his kid) scarfing down shitty plain cheese in his pjs, it’s also awful, and painful. So Dean slips on his shoes, grabs his keys, and shoulders on the jacket with Cas’s handprint over his hole-y sleep shirt.

It’s not like he’s sober, but he’s done worse.

It feels like a shitty pizza day, so Dean makes a beeline for the Wal-Mart and its frozen section, stocking up on two of every topping from the cheapest brand they’ve got. He grabs popcorn, chips, twizzlers and margarita mix, because fuck it, and smiles at the cashier. It’s not an epic romantic reunion, but this is what normal people do, right? They take an entire day and wallow without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Dean’s cradling his spoils, twizzler hanging out of his mouth, shuffling out of the garage when—

He freezes.

The kitchen. There’s someone banging around in the kitchen.

Not like aggressively banging—one quick sweep around the area confirms no signs of forced entry—but just like… moving shit. Washing the dishes from this morning, or getting ready to make something new. Dean’s heart is caught between hope and heartbreak and he forces himself towards the latter. It’s probably Charlie, or Bobby or Jody or Donna or, hell, even Jack or Claire. No one else can get in. And if it’s something dangerous… well, Dean doesn’t have a weapon on him, and his damn pizza’s thawing.

But it’s not Charlie or Bobby or Jody or Donna. It’s not Jack. It’s not Claire.

…It’s Cas; freshly showered, dressed in Dean’s fucking clothes, making himself a sandwich.

He’s beautiful. Dean’s shirt—AC/DC, the one with the mustard stain on the collar—is just a little small on him, and he’s humming, and Dean has to blink once twice three times to make sure he’s not a goddamn mirage but no he’s still there, still scooping grape jelly onto the good bread and then putting the dirty spoon on the counter like a friggin’ heathen and—

“Are you gonna wash that?”

It’s sure as fuck not what he’d meant to say, but it gets the job done. Cas drops the spoon—the spoon—and whirls around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Dean,” he breathes, like Dean’s name is some kind of benediction. Like it’s important.

Dean clutches his groceries tighter to his chest. “A-Are you…?” he asks. Steps forward. Steps back. Stares because he can’t, he can’t— “Are you real?”

Cas is barefoot. He’s quiet when he steps across the linoleum. His hair is turning fluffy where it’s drying and his eyes are blue and bright and he’s a miracle. “I’m real,” he confirms quietly. His hand twitches by his side, and Dean thinks that’s fair. Thinks that he gets that Cas has reservations because of—because.

But they’re unfounded. 

Dean drops his spoils because they’re an afterthought; nothing is more important than knowing, than reaching out to touch his fingertips to Cas’s shoulder. To his jaw. He can’t stop the tears from springing to his eyes like he can’t stop himself from laughing. Smiling. And suddenly he has Cas in his arms and he smells like Dean’s soap and Sam’s fancy shampoo, and they’re holding—clutching each other, and Dean turns his head because it has to be now he has to say it now: “Cas, I—”

“I know,” Cas interrupts. “You don’t have to—I know.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, voice high with something like hysteria. The whole thing is so absurd, so insane, so fucked, that it’s all he can do to bury his face in Cas’s neck. To squeeze his eyes shut. To talk. “Well, you’re a friggin’ moron,” he says. “And you got no goddamn idea what you’re talking about, because—because you changed me, too, you dick.” Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s waist and Dean’s heart pounds like it’s trying to escape and his throat is dry and he’s sweating and he’s gonna be sick, he’s gonna die— “A-And I love you.”

He wrenches himself away, then, glaring like he dares Cas to take the words away from him. “Okay?” he asks, rhetorically. Menacingly. It’s a declaration and a confession and a challenge. And Cas meets his stare unflinchingly. He reaches up to thumb at the wetness on the apple of Dean’s cheek. “Okay,” he says. He nods. Leans in. “Okay.” Their mouths brush. “Good.”

It’s not even a real kiss, so Dean can’t be blamed for how he chases; how he breathes good, in faint agreement like a lovesick fool, and moves until they’re kissing good and proper—slow and sweet and then deep and wet and it’s good, it’s so good, he’s so good.

Later, they’ll have to make every thawed pizza. They’ll drink the margarita mix and share the same popcorn bowl and pay no attention to Dr. Sexy playing in the background. They’ll talk about Chuck and Jack and Sam. They’ll stare. They’ll tease. They’ll flirt.

But for now, Cas twists his hands in Dean’s shirt and Dean buries his hands in dark hair. They pause for breath only to come together, again and again and again.

And it’s good.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

I am a bi-sexual man. I am also a police officer with Police Scotland. Being a third generation cop I never thought I’d write those things down let alone say them and let people know. I have recently changed role, within the organisation, after ten years on the street. That move, being away from the stress and accompanying bravado, has given me the confidence to start to not have a different persona in and out of the job.

I ticked the bi-sexual box when I first applied and then the various paperwork when I joined. Nothing was ever mentioned and I thought nothing of it. I have no issues with who I am, I never have. However I realised sadly quickly that there appeared to be a strong, unwritten culture of don’t ask, don’t tell.

A little bit more about me at this point. I have known who I am since primary school but only started to feel comfortable about that when I left home to go to university. My parents aren’t homophobic, far from it, but very closed people. If I had brought it up I’m relatively confident they would have replied, ‘okay’, but I never took that risk. When I was at university, as happens to a lot of people, I felt comfortable enough to express the real me in whatever way I wanted. I did. I then met my future wife. Love is love and I found a person that could put up with me, that challenged me and I could see a future together. I’d never wanted marriage or kids. I never saw the point. Possibly because I hadn’t been able to decide what I wanted in life up until that point. My future wife wanted marriage and kids. I wanted to spend my life with her so that was now my life.

I am a big lump of a boy. As a customer once said after a short struggle, “he’s too big, that’s no fair”. I’ve always been sporty and involved in everything. I played rugby to a high level and due to being heavily involved in that ‘aggressive and macho’ sporting world I was always seen unquestionably as one of the boys. Any inappropriate language was always thrown straight back at the sender, mostly by the smelt it, dealt it style retort that invariably stopped it in its tracks. I never stood for homophobic slurs or jokes. Not just because of who I am but as a part of my character that I have always loathed racist, sectarian, trans etc language or attempts at pathetic humour. I have always stood up to it and always will. I am aware that it was always easier for me being the popular sporty guy, that I was, but I do hope that I changed one person’s way of thinking and gave one person strength in it being called out.

Back to the Police. Starting off, despite having the family background, is always a culture shock. When someone would ask about my family life, and invariably what football team I supported, I would always tell the truth that I was engaged to be married to my, future, wife. I omitted that I was bi-sexual but not because of embarrassment. It was due to not wanting the invariable confusion and multiple questions. It was lazy of me but it was my information to share when I wanted to and who with. That was the problem I made for myself. Months passed and then years. No one knew. I was of the thinking that no one would care if I said and I doubted that I would get more than an ‘okay’ if I made people aware but that nagging doubt lingered.

It sadly took me taking a step back from the front line to have confidence to talk more openly and make more people aware of who I truly am. As you can probably guess a number told me they always knew, on some level, but without offence meant, or taken, they didn’t care. I will wonder for longer than I probably should as to why it took me this long to be more open about myself. I’m sure that it was a multitude of factors, both reasonable and not, that led to me keeping a big part of who I am to myself. However one thing I am sure of already is that there was absolutely no need for that thinking.

I mentioned at the start that there appeared to be a mantra of don’t ask, don’t tell. On reflection they were my worries and fears that manifested into that wrong belief. From my time in Police Scotland I do think that the organisation is an inclusive and representative one. Who you love, what religion, or not, you follow and even your football team is not held against you. Have I heard a risqué joke or something said that was down right inappropriate, of course. Has that ever been meant as an attack, a slur or to demean? No. It makes me proud to type that that has been my experience of working within this organisation and the many, many different colleagues I have mostly had the pleasure of working with. I am not naïve enough to think that it doesn’t take place and isn’t internally thought however in my opinion those people are in the significant minority and too scared of the rightful consequences of their words and actions. Casual racism etc and unconscious bias of course exists but with knowledge comes power. If we keep educating ourselves and others we can continue to try and have greater understanding of how our actions, inactions and words can affect others.

Do we need to stop worrying about our colleagues and Scottish society as a whole? Of course not. So much has improved but we can never stop demanding equality for whatever is deemed different to the norm. Police Scotland and the Scottish nation can be proud of calling out inequality and respecting and embracing differences. Let us be an example to others but always with the thinking that there is never not room to improve. Everyone should be able to be the person they want to be.

I am a bi-sexual man. I am also a police officer. I am proud to write those two sentences together and say them out loud.

[jungblue]

aphrodite in war | 01

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: comedy, fluff, angst, eventual smut / greek life, fake dating, roommates, lovers to enemies and back to lovers au

word count: 11,022

description: Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle... Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

note: here is an audio post of a beautiful song with lyrics inspired by AiW, which was written by one of my lovely readers!

→ part 02

Hostility bleeds deep. The rivers of resentment collide violently as they carve a divide so saturated in disdain between the parties involved that you don’t even need to be told that there is something more to the story. It doesn’t need to be said out loud, but is just instinctively felt.

You didn’t need to be told that the ominous house at the end of street was sketchy and should be avoided at all cost; you just knew it. You didn’t need to be told that there was bad blood between the guy and girl whose jaws suddenly stiffened as their lips transformed into a firm, straight line when they caught sight of each other at a party; you just knew it — And you most certainly didn’t need to be told that there was an absolute war brewing at the end of Greek Drive between the Tri Delts and Lambdas; you just fucking knew it.

In the beginning, their rivalry was small. It was simple antics such as egging each other’s houses or fucking around with the letters that they so proudly displayed on their lawns. But then it turned a bit more intense. Egging the houses turned into spray-painting them and fucking with the letters on their lawns turned into completely trashing each other’s lawns. It was because of this that the once harmless pranks turned infamous. Everything that happened between their houses had constantly been circulated around campus for the past two years, or at the very least among their Greek counterparts… Which was probably how the two newly inducted presidents of Delta Delta Delta and Lambda Phi Epsilon, on the very first week of their final year in college, found themselves sitting in the office of a much higher power than their own titles — The president of their university; a single word spilling past his lips that had their stomachs twisting.

“Suspension!?” They both yelled in disbelief.

It was a word no organization wanted to hear. It branded your chapters with a shame that would be painted across the local news stations and even across the country. The lines would blur, only to lump them in with those terrible hazing stories that constantly flooded the media.

“P-president Kwon,” Jungkook finally stuttered out after a moment of coming to terms with the seriousness of the situation they were being faced with. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise the very... minor pranks that go on between our houses are probably much less problematic than what you’re thinking.”

“Mr. Jeon, do you think that we would threaten something of such dramatic action without several instances of confirmed proof?” President Kwon asked in a clipped tone as he leaned forward in his chair.

You could see the way that Jungkook blanched next to you, clearly not expecting this harsh treatment from President Kwon. Lambda Phi Epsilon happened to be President Kwon’s former fraternity, so it was well known that there was a good relationship there. However, in this moment you could make out nothing except for a glaring, red warning shining off the president’s ice-cold eyes.  

“I — no, sir,” Jungkook whispered, dropping his head slightly to hide the sudden flush of red that was rushing to his face.

“It is more embarrassing than I can possibly describe to the two of you, receiving dozens upon dozens of phone calls and emails over the incidents involving your organizations. Garbage littering every inch of your front yards, obscene images drawn onto your houses, several instances of animal control having to be called due to rodents being set free in the house as a… as a prank? All of this is happening while visits from prospective students and their parents are being conducted. Donors who help this school are wandering the campus and seeing it. Tell me, did the incidents I just mentioned not actually transpire, Mr. Jeon? Ms. Y/L/N?”

The air was so stiff that you barely managed a shaky inhale in order to respond to the juvenile antics being laid out before you. “No, th-they did transpire, sir. And I don’t know what to say besides that I’m so, so sorry that we’ve embarrassed the university this way.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, President Kwon’s relentless glare of disappointment cutting you through and through.

“Yes, so completely sorry,” Jungkook added.

Nothing was said for a few moments after that. It seemed President Kwon wanted to make the two of you squirm for everything that you had done, and it was definitely working. Every movement made you feel self-conscious, the judgement permeating the office air felt as if it were sticking to your skin.

“I know that what we’ve done is completely unacceptable, President Kwon,” You began, not being able to take the silence anymore. “But I promise if you give us just one more chance, we’ll clean up our acts. No more pranks, just cordial neighbors. As the new presidents of our chapters this year, we’ll make sure the members understand that this behavior isn’t something that will be tolerated anymore.”

Jungkook was nodding his head next to you in agreeance. But once again the room was plunged into silence. It was honestly torture, sitting there under such scrutiny as someone held something so dear to you in the palm of their hand. It would break your heart if the suspension actually went through… Considering it was yours and Jungkook’s fault that tensions had gotten to where they were in the first place. The bad blood between the two of you had seeped into the minds of your members as well, which was ultimately how it got so ugly. But it had gotten especially bad this year now that you were the respective presidents of each of your houses and had allowed things to escalate further. Harsh feelings between two people couldn’t do much damage, but when it was dozens versus dozens, well that was when things got messy.

Eventually though you found yourself being pulled back to reality. President Kwon cleared his throat, the sound making your heart stutter in your chest as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“You’re exactly right. It won’t be tolerated any longer.” He paused for a moment, probably for the added effect of letting anxiety seize its way around your lungs. “Probation for the next three months. One more incident and it’s over. Do you understand?”

At that there was a simultaneous sigh of relief from you and Jungkook as the looming consequence faded… At least for now.

“Thank you so much, President Kwon.” Jungkook stood from his chair, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “I promise we won’t mess this up.”

You lifted yourself up from your chair as well, following his lead. “Yes, we promise.”

“I hope that’s true,” Is all President Kwon responded with as he led the two of you towards the door of his office. “Take care.”

With rather mumbled and rushed goodbyes you exited his office, the two of you shuffling quickly down the hallway until you were sure you were out of earshot. Both of you stopped as you turned the corner, insults already resting on the tips of your tongues.

“This is all your fucking fault!” You yelled in a hushed whisper.

“My fault!?” He whispered back, equally as intense. “You’re the one who started this shit, Y/N. No one would even be fighting if you hadn’t opened your mouth to your friends.”

“I was just venting to them! I had no idea that they would go and actually do something about it. And it was a harmless prank. They planted fucking flowers in front of your house for god’s sake, and your loser friends retaliated by digging holes in our yard. You guys are the ones who escalated it, and now it’s this out of control thing that’s going to get our chapters suspended!” Your chest was rising and falling, anger boiling inside of your blood. You had never even partaken in any of the antics that had gone on between the two houses nor had you baited any of your members into participating.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, tongue pressing at the inside of his cheek. “You know what? It’s whatever. We’ve been arguing about this for two years now, so I’m not expecting you to be reasonable any time soon.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, the painful reminder of how long this had been going on searing a deep cut across your chest. But it was like Jungkook had said, this had been going on for a long time and there was no point in arguing about who was right, because it wasn’t as if it actually mattered. So instead, you just didn’t respond. You stared at him for a moment, sneer fading into this sad downward turn of your lips. And surprisingly you watched the way his expression softened as well. His brows were furrowing a little less, his jaw not as hard and brooding.

You gave him a tiny nod before you turned away and headed towards the exit. It was a few seconds before you heard his footsteps start to follow you. Every time his sneakers would squeak against the linoleum floor behind you, it felt like this tiny pressure was beginning to build at the base of your throat. You weren’t sure why you still got these feelings of… longing, even after all of this passed time. It was pathetic. Jungkook apparently didn’t long for anything from back then, so why did you?

Eventually you were able to breathe a little clearer once you pushed your way through the exit and away from the tight and tense space of faculty meetings and suspension threats. The fresh air filled your rattled lungs — too bad it was murky and humid beneath the gray storm clouds that were currently drowning the campus in a depressing drizzle.

“Goddammit,” You muttered beneath your breath.

You didn’t drive here since this building had been so close to your last class of the day. The Tri Delt house was about a ten minute walk from here, so it looked like you needed to get going before the light sprinkle of rain turned into a thunderstorm. You were about to step out from underneath the overhead of the roof and down the steps when you felt a light tug of someone pulling at the back of the belt loop on your jeans. 

“Do you need a ride?” Jungkook asked before you had even turned around to fully face him. His expression was neutral. It didn’t seem annoyed or concerned, but he had always been good at hiding his emotions like that.  

Of course you didn’t want to walk home in the rain, but sitting in a confined space with Jungkook after you’d both just gotten done yelling at one another didn’t seem like the greatest time either. But in the end, you decided that a few minutes wouldn’t kill you. “Yeah, I guess,” You whispered, motioning for him to go ahead so you could follow. His car was parked in one of the first spots at the bottom of the steps. You were both silent as you opened the doors and climbed inside.

It was weird. You hadn’t been in Jungkook’s car in years. You watched him pull out of the parking space, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning against the center console. It felt all too familiar. You blew a heady sigh past your lips, hands wringing in your lap. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, the tension between you and him never seemed to lessen. It was a constant, palpable stiffness in the air.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get them to stop fighting?” Jungkook finally asked once they turned onto Greek Drive, giving some mild relief to the strain that the two of you were so highly aware of.

“If suspension doesn’t do it, then I honestly don’t know what would.”

He nodded, seeming to agree. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll cut it out.”

“Yeah, they can’t be that dumb—” However, your words seemed to disintegrate along your tongue as the car approached the Lambda and Tri Delt houses that stood side by side.

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook muttered, pulling into the driveway which currently had a Lambda named Jimin running down it towards his truck that was completely covered in saran-wrap and a laughing Tri Delt named Joy who was holding said saran-wrap.

“Get back here and take this shit off my truck right now!” You heard Jimin yell.

“Nope, I’m good.” She smiled, shrugging and taunting him as she jogged away.

“This… This might be harder than we thought,” You said.

Jungkook rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes closed. “Yeah, way fucking harder.”

---------

It was several mass group texts later, demanding that every Lambda and Tri Delt come to their houses immediately, that all forty-two members of the combined organizations who actually lived in-house finally arrived… Yeah, there was no way that this could go terribly wrong or anything… Right?

You and Jungkook stood in front of the members as they gathered on the grassy area that separated your two houses. As expected there were dozens of mumbled conversations transpiring, all speculating on what the hell was going on here. You looked to Jungkook, giving him a nod to tell him that they should start.

He cleared his throat, clapping his hands together, resulting in large boom that got everyone’s attention. “All right, listen up. We have something important we need to discuss.”

“Jungkook, why the hell are the Tri Delts here?” A Lambda named Yuta yelled out.

“Because we can be, asshole.” It was Jennie.

“Who’re you calling an asshole?” Taehyung asked, even though he had nothing to do with it.

“Your dickhead friend,” Sana responded, again even though it had nothing to do with her.

And then Chanyeol chimed in, followed by Momo, which then got escalated by Johnny and continued by Dahyun. After that you lost track of who was arguing because it just became a giant clusterfuck of people yelling and this was the perfect example of how this entire war started — people getting involved in the business of others that didn’t even concern them.

You started rubbing at your temples, fingernails digging into your palms. This was enough. “Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, a loud echo that reverberated through the air and hushed everyone into silence. “This is why you’re all here.” You motioned towards them.

“What do you mean?” Someone asked from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Me and Y/N had a meeting with President Kwon today,” Jungkook paused, releasing a deep sigh before continuing. “He said that if we all keep publicly fighting the way we have been… that our chapters will get suspended.” 

There was a small pause, as if it didn’t immediately click with everyone what had been said — and then the panic set in. 

“What?!”

“No fucking way!”

“He can’t be serious!”

“That’s bullshit!” 

“This is just another prank, right?!” 

Having forty-two people publicly shouting expletives, wasn’t the best start to this image reset that President Kwon wanted, but there was no way either of the chapters would have been okay with the other house coming into their own, so this little outdoor set-up was the best option they had. 

You and Jungkook sort of just stood there for a moment, letting the members get their gut-reactions out. Then he turned to you, motioning towards the mob of angry Greek lifers. “You were always better at yelling than me. You wanna quiet them down?” He smirked, a jab that had you clenching your teeth. 

“Great way to start off this so called peace treaty, but sure, I’ll gladly calm them down and get straight to the point. I wouldn’t want to let them drown in their own heads without knowing what’s going on because someone won’t just be upfront.” You stared him straight in the eyes, making sure he got your double meaning since he wanted to play dirty and bring up the past. He simply clenched his jaw and averted his gaze back to the crowd of hysterics laid out before them. 

“Quiet down and we’ll explain.” You yelled as loud as you could, hoping it would reach everyone so that the chatter would die down quickly. Luckily it seemed they were all on the verge of a mental breakdown and needed answers, so the volume was almost instantly brought down to a hush. All eyes were now on you. “To make things simple, President Kwon thinks that our little prank war or whatever the hell you want to call it, has brought too much negative attention to the school. Visiting students and their parents, donors, and apparently a lot of other people have noticed all of the antics that we pull on each other, and they don’t like it.” You paused, gauging the reactions, but everyone was just frozen in place, waiting for more details. “He put both of our houses on three months of probation and said that if we don’t clean up our acts and stop with all of this petty bullshit that he would suspend our chapters. So, really it’s that easy. We just have to let this feud die down...” You paused, not wanting to say what you were going to say next, but you thought that it would be the best way to diffuse the situation. “And I know that it was the venting of my personal feelings that started this entire thing, so I wanted to say… I’m sorry for causing it.” You didn’t look towards Jungkook, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face. You didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see the smugness or whatever the hell he was feeling towards this forced public apology. You were about to continue, but before you could, a high-pitched voice cut in. 

“No, why are you apologizing?” Sana said, stepping past the front lines of the two groups. “It is not your fault.” She shot a glare towards Jungkook who simply rolled his eyes and kept his stare straight ahead. 

Then it was Jennie pushing to the front to join in on your defense. “She’s right, Y/N. It’s not your fault. We’re the ones who planted the flowers as a joke. Even though it was a harmless joke,” She turned towards the Lambda boys, venom coating her words, “that made their trashy house look a little bit nicer. Yet, they had to escalate it into something else.”

Oh, this was not good.

Jimin broke through the front line for the Lambdas, a scowl etched across his face. “It’s not the issue of what you did. It’s the fact that back then you blindly fucked with the house that all of the guys lived in, not only Jungkook, just because of Y/N being upset over their relationship — which, he did nothing wrong since you wanna start glaring at people for no fucking reason Sana.” 

It was this violent concoction of anger and sadness colliding inside of your stomach that had you simultaneously fighting back the urge to bite off Jimin’s head or crying pathetically in front of everyone. 

Multiple people were stepping to the front of their groups now, various arguments splintering off as people began defending the heads of their respective houses. Y/N this, Jungkook that. You stared at the second story of the Tri Delt house, focusing in on the bedroom window all the way to the right (your bedroom), so that your hearing would blur out. You didn’t want to listen to these arguments any more, but you also didn’t have the energy to both somehow defend yourself while also admitting that Jungkook’s feelings from back then were also valid. So you stood there, eyes glazing over at the sight of the room where this entire feud spawned from. Though, maybe that wasn’t exactly correct. According to Jungkook it had started in no particular place and at no particular time that he could actually pinpoint. That was just the place where it had all finally been verbalized. 

You weren’t sure how long you zoned out for, just reminiscing on the conversation from that night, but it was Jungkook’s voice thundering through the air that halted everyone’s arguments once again, along with your torturous thoughts. 

“All of you just fucking stop!” He yelled. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is or how it started. If we keep doing this we’re gonna get our chapters suspended. Do you guys want that?” There was an awkward moment of silence where everyone was just sort of looking around at one another before the members finally grumbled a unanimous ‘no.’ “Okay, so then you guys are just gonna have to get over this bullshit, just like how me and Y/N are,” Jungkook paused, one brow arched as he turned to face you. “Right?”

You felt your face heat up as you clamped your teeth down onto the inside of your cheek. “…Right.”

“Good.” Jungkook smiled, seeming very happy with himself for getting that out of you — smug asshole. He turned back to face all of the members, clapping his hands together before saying something that caused the entire group to erupt into hysterics. “Now, apologize to each other.”

“Fuck that!” Someone screeched from the back. “Baek let the air out of my tires last year. I was late for my final.” 

“Because you put a pair of panties in my car and my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her!” 

“You probably were!”

Everyone was screaming and calling out various incidents, saying there was no way in hell they were ever going to apologize. 

“Fine! Fucking fine!” Jungkook cut in immediately before it could devolve again. “How about if me and Y/N just apologize to each other and it’ll count for the rest of you? And then this war is dead. Sound fair?” 

No one said anything concrete in response, just unintelligible grumbles rippling through the crowd. Jungkook apparently took this as an okay, because he was suddenly turning toward you. “Alright, you go first.” 

You scoffed. “I’m not apologizing first. It wasn’t even my idea. Besides I already apologized to everyone earlier.”

“It wasn’t an apology to me though.” 

“I don’t think I owe you an apology.” You shrugged. “I apologized for my friends fucking with your house. What else do I need to apologize for?” 

He just looked at you, with those eyes that were unreadable. Though you could see a slight shift, as though there truly was something that he wanted you to apologize for from back then, but he could tell that you weren’t going to back down, so he went for something that cut deep as punishment. 

He huffed in annoyance. “Fine, if you wanna be like that. I’m sorry that I broke up with you, Y/N.”

Your entire body flared with anger that had a pool of sweat instantly swelling at your hairline. You stepped closer to him, only a foot of space between you, but he didn’t back down and you weren’t going to either. “And I’m sorry I wasted three years of my life with a lying, cheating piece of shit!” 

His eyes went wide. The word that never failed to strike a nerve whenever this argument was brought back under the light. His response was quiet but firm, everyone, all forty-two members watching in silence. “I never cheated on you, but if you want to think that just so I can be the bad guy in your head, fine.” 

His final word felt like a sharp cut across your chest, but you stood firm, not backing down. You didn’t break eye contact with him as you voiced your final sentiment to the two groups of warring Greeks. “I don’t care whose side you guys fall on when it comes to this overblown drama between me and Jungkook. The fighting, the pranks, all of it, it’s over.” 

“Agreed.” Jungkook bit out before turning and walking towards the Lambda house, a silent command for his Brothers to do the same. 

You didn’t stand there for a single second longer and began walking toward your own house, your fellow Sisters following. Your best friends, Sana and Jennie, instantly threw their arms around your shoulders. “Vodka?” The universal distraction from all things awful in life. 

You shook your head. “Tequila.” The universal eraser to all things awful in life. “Lots of tequila.”

 ——-

“He’s lucky that we’re in a truce now or I would’ve thought up something diabolical for his arrogant ass,” Jennie said as she dusted some blush on her cheeks.��

“I know right, ugh!” Sana made a disgusted sound as she handed you the necklace she was letting you borrow for the night. “Telling you to apologize first. Like fuck you. You haven’t even done anything.”

You simply sighed, jumping to get your jeans past your thighs. “It’s fine guys. As long as no more issues pop up we can just ignore them and act like none of this ever happened.” 

“I know, I know, but it just pisses me off that they always bring your name into the argument. Like you didn’t tell us to go and mess with them. We did it ourselves, and sure, looking back on it now we shouldn’t have done it — even though they were some nice fucking flowers — but regardless, they pushed it to another level.” Sana let out a final huff as she hopefully released the last of her ranting for the night. 

“The point of the tequila,” You said as you filled three shot glasses, several wedges of lime waiting beside them, “Is to forget the problems. Not continue thinking about them.” 

Sana snapped her fingers and pointed at you with a smile as she picked up her shot. “You know what, you’re right. Fuck the Lambdas. They no longer exist. In my head we live next to a vacant patch of grass.” 

“Exactly.” Jennie picked up her glass, leaving the final one for you. “Cheers to no longer having to deal with the house that must not be named.”

The three of you let out a little cheer before clinking your glasses together and forcing your bodies through the post-shot shivers that followed. 

After the front yard meeting fiasco you knew immediately you would be going out. However, it had still been quite early, so you, Sana, and Jennie decided to indulge in several glasses of wine to bide the time before it was late enough to feel like an appropriate time to be downing shots. Tequila at six in the afternoon, even on a Friday, just didn’t feel right, so alcohol juice it had been. Though, the warm feeling that was already radiating through your legs as you walked over to the mirror to do one last once over of your outfit indicated that the so called alcohol juice had done its job as the pre-game to the actual hard liquor pre-game a little too well. 

“Okay, I’m only opting for one more round while we’re here or else we will be having a repeat of St. Patrick’s Day.” Too many green beers that day. Too many. 

“Senior year wisdom.” Jennie placed her hand over her heart. “Our freshman year brains would never.” 

“Our freshman year brains didn’t have an aversion to six different types of alcohol yet.” You laughed as you motioned to take the next round of shots. “And I would like to still be able to look at a bottle of tequila without going into a full-body sweat after tonight, so we’re pacing ourselves.” 

“Oh, Fireball. The days when I could still drink you were so simple.” Sana grabbed her face and grimaced as if Fireball was a long lost god, while you audibly gagged from the name of the cinnamon flavored whiskey alone. 

“Sana, stop. You know Y/N can’t even look at a churro anymore without looking like she’s gonna yak everywhere like a dog.” 

I faked a sniffle. “God, I miss being able to eat churros.” Cinnamon was now inedible to you thanks to your now forever connection between the delectable spice and the previously mentioned unspeakable liquor. A break up that rivaled that of yours and Jungkook’s. 

“Uber’s gonna be here in three minutes,” Jennie said as she returned to your bedside table to grab her shot glass once again. 

The three of you raised your glasses together with a clink. “Let’s fuck it up.” 

——----

The bar right next to your college, simply referred to as “Pub,” was a weird place to be on the first Friday of the new semester. It was a mix of underage freshman trying to slyly sip at their alcohol while attempting to hide the X’s marked on their hands, and of age students that felt a little too old to be at Pub, but who could argue with free drinks for girls until midnight? Definitely not you, Sana, or Jennie. 

The three of you found your temporary home at the tables on the deck right outside of the entrance, the fresh air much preferable to the stuffy atmosphere of the dance floor that you would soon find yourself on given the right song choice to send you flying through the door. 

You watched as Sana shimmied through the crowd of people to return to your table, three tiny plastic cups in hand. “You get a vodka Sprite, you get a vodka Sprite, and I get a vodka Sprite!” She yelled as she set the cups down on the table. 

You laughed. “People may call that basic, but we still get drunk and don’t have to drink Jack and fucking Coke.”

“The Devil’s combo.” Jennie sipped her drink. “You see a guy drinking that: run. He thinks he’s so fucking cool.” 

Sana raised her plastic cup. “Cheers to the truth.” 

“Cheers,” You all agreed collectively. 

“But speaking of guys who don’t drink Jack and Coke, I ran into Namjoon when I went to the bathroom a minute ago.” A blush crept across Jennie’s cheeks. 

“Are you finally gonna see if he’s interested? He’s not your TA anymore, so it’s not sketchy.” 

Jennie shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird. He seems so uninterested that it’s intimidating. Like I’ve imagined thirty-seven different scenarios for our first date and he’s only like ‘Hi, Jennie. Bye, Jennie.” 

You and Sana couldn’t help but laugh, however, the amusement was cut short by a decently sized group of familiar males. 

“Fuck me,” You said under your breath, which was enough for Jennie to turn around and see the pack of Lambda boys climbing the wooden steps onto the deck of the bar, Jungkook leading the way. 

“You try to forget your problems and they just walk in on two legs.” Sana groaned. “It’s rude really.” 

The group got caught in the line to get into the bar, which unfortunately left them idling uncomfortably close to your table, and of course something had to be said. 

Jimin glanced down at them sitting, a fake grin plastered to his mouth. “If it isn’t our cordial neighbors.” 

Jennie snapped her head up to look at him, mirroring his forced smile. “Cordial can also mean that we’re pretending you don’t exist. In fact, we no longer acknowledge that we even have neighbors.” 

“That’s fantastic, actually. It means I can forget that awful blowjob you gave me freshman year even happened.” 

Jennie’s jaw clenched for all of a millisecond before responding. “Awful? Say that to my untouched vagina after you came in sixty seconds. Though again, we’re pretending you don’t exist, so I guess I can forget the most underwhelming sexual experience of my life. Thanks, Jimin.” She turned back to you and Sana, not sparing a second glance as if she’d simply given someone directions to the nearest Denny’s. 

But Jimin wasn’t through. “That’s not what happened—”

You could see in your friend’s face she was already squaring up another jab, and as much as you found it entertaining you knew it was setting a bad example. 

“Jennie,” You said at the same time that Jungkook sighed “Jimin.”

You both looked at each other, a silent message of gratefulness passing between the two of you at trying to actually make this work. 

“Guys, neither of us want to get our chapters suspended. If ignoring each other is the best route, do that, or maybe even be friends. Whatever results in no fuckery between our houses, okay?” You reminded them of what was at stake here and everyone nodded, letting any planned animosity fall away as the line to get into the bar began to move. 

You tilted your head, watching as Jungkook’s back disappeared into the building, his eyes crinkling as he smiled brightly at some girl who noticed him the second he made it past the threshold. 

Again, that stupid feeling of longing for something that was clearly dead and gone. But you didn’t want to get too down, so before you could spiral too far you turned back towards your friends. “So did he really last sixty seconds?” 

“No,” Jennie smiled, “But I definitely still have the texts of him telling me the next day it was the best suck of his life. He’s the one that lied first, so I get to bend the truth too.”

“Freshman year is so weird to think about. Everyone was actually friendly. Jennie and Jimin might be dating right now if it wasn’t for our little war.” Sana laughed as she batted the napkin away that Jennie tossed at her. 

“Absolutely not. I want someone like Namjoon, who’s smart and respectful. Not Jimin, who… who…” She trailed off simply finishing her thought with a wordless grimace. 

Jennie said that, but you knew it wasn’t exactly true. You remembered very well when Jennie and Jimin were involved and she actually seemed to enjoy the Lambda’s presence quite a bit. But then things went to shit the summer after your freshman year was over, and well, this was the reality now. Snide comments at every passing instead of mutual invites to beach days. 

You were beginning to let a little slideshow of memories from that first year cloud your head when a song that already had you lifting out of your chair clamored inside the bar. “We dance till dawn!” You pulled your friends by their arms through the entrance, waving your wristbands at the bouncer before pushing your way to the middle of the dance floor. 

“Drinks!” Jennie beamed, remembering that they had finished the others outside. “I’ll be back!” She yelled over the music, pointing towards the bar. 

You and Sana gave her a thumbs up as you began to dance together, singing the lyrics so loud your throats would certainly punish you by night’s end. But you didn’t care. Today had been absolutely disastrous, ripping up old wounds that you wished would just stay permanently beneath their flimsy bandaid, so you were thankful for this music that was blaring so loud that thoughts weren’t even an option, the alcohol that was so potent you could barely remember Jungkook’s smug face from the house meeting today, and your friends that allowed you to be this happy on days this bad. 

A few songs passed and you and Sana were still dancing and getting so hyped up by every new spin that it took you a second to remember that Jennie definitely should’ve been back by now. You looked around, only to find a sight that made you let out a slight scream that was completely concealed by the music. You tapped Sana and began pointing towards the bar. She turned and immediately mirrored your excitement. 

Namjoon was leaning into Jennie at the bar, whispering something into her ear and you could see her smiling, redness once again blooming on her face. In your drunkenness you pulled out your phone and snapped severa blurry pictures, which were sure to be a great topic of discussion in the group chat tomorrow. You watched Jennie nod her head, smiling and pointing to the three drinks in her hand, and then she started back towards where you were. 

“Bitch, the drinks could’ve waited!” You tried to say over the music. “Go back and talk to him.” 

Jennie actually looked giddy as she handed over the drinks to you and Sana. “I am. He’s leaving soon though, but he asked if I wanted to grab something to eat with him at the diner down the street.” 

Sana jumped up and down in excitement. “So he basically asked you to marry him? Got it.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s totally gonna propose to me over my omelette.” She joked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Are you guys okay if I go?” 

“Of course, but I will be checking your location in fifteen minutes and if you are not at that diner I will hunt Namjoon’s ass down in two seconds,” You warned. “—Except if you decide you wanna skip the diner and go straight to fucking that’s cool too, just let us know.” 

Jennie threw out another giddy expression at the thought. “I’ll text you guys. Love you!” She said,  kissing her hand and throwing it out to you as she weaved back towards where Namjoon was waiting for her at the bar. 

“Fuck Disney,” You shouted to Sana. “Dreams come true at Pub too.”

She bent over, laughing as she tried to sip her drink. “Ugh, if only we could be that lucky. I’ve never had a TA even close to that hot.”

“Same, but maybe we’ll find something else tonight.” You motioned toward the back where you could see some of the soccer players hanging out. You eyed Jung Hoseok. The two of you had hooked up a few times last year, and getting laid would be a perfect ending to this bad to actually decent day. 

“Oh, I see.” Sana wiggled her brows, giving a knowing look. “Let’s go bump into them.” She grabbed your hand and began leading you through the crowd until you reached the area that the soccer players were idly standing around and sipping their drinks. You started a conversation about something random right behind Hoseok, and it was only a minute or so before he turned around and noticed the two of you. 

“Oh, look who it is.” He smiled, hugging you. “Been a while.” 

“I know your summer must’ve been so dull without me,” You flirted, sipping at your drink. 

“No question.” He leaned back against the wall, pulling you by the waist so you weren’t halfway on the dance floor and constantly being bumped into. Sana noticed the gesture and took that as her cue to let things simmer between you and Hoseok. 

“Y/N, I see Nayeon and Joy over there.” She pointed towards the other corner of the bar, where you saw the two Tri Delts mingling. “I’m gonna go over there, okay?” 

“Sounds good.” 

She leaned into your ear, whispering, “If you wanna go home with him just text me. I’ll catch a ride with them on the way back to the house.” 

“I’m ninety-five percent sure I will, but I’ll text you to make sure,” You whispered back. 

She squeezed your shoulder before pulling back. “Take care of her Jung. I’ve heard you’re very good at that.” Sana smiled like a tiny devil before running through the crowd, leaving you slightly slack-jawed. 

You bit your lip, a small warmth creeping into our face. “Please, ignore that,” You bit through an awkward laugh. 

“Why’re you embarrassed?” He smiled, shrugging before leaning next to your ear. “I mean I have taken care of you every single time we’ve been together, right?” 

His breath was hot against the side of your face, leaving you tingling. You lifted your hand, cupping his jaw as you pulled him back to look him in the face. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re in a bar and you can’t do anything about it.” 

He smiled, eyes drifting to your mouth. “I mean we could always leave. It’s almost closing time anyways.” 

You smiled. “One more drink, after I finish this one.” 

“Perfect.” He leaned in, gave you a small peck on the lips before ruffling your hair a little and turning to say something to his friend. Presumably it was something about him getting laid tonight, which was exactly the same conversation you were about to have with your friend. 

You: the hookup is secure 

Sana: quick work. i’m proud 

Sana: joy and nayeon said that lisa is sick in the bathroom and they’re about to take her back to the house, so i was just going to catch a ride with them if you’re going with hoseok. sound good? 

You: oh really? i hope she’s okay. make sure she gets water at home. and yes i’ll be fine. we were gonna have one last drink and then go. i’ll text you when i make it to his place

Sana: sounds good. love you!

You slipped your phone back into your pocket after returning the sentiment. 

“Everything good?” Hoseok asked. 

“Yeah, one of our friends is sick so Sana was just letting me know she was gonna go home with her.” 

“Damn,” Hoseok tsked, jokingly.  “Does that mean I’m stuck with you for the night?” 

“It would seem so.” You smiled, and then he pulled you beneath his arm and adjusted the backwards cap on his head. 

“You know, I’m all for just fucking or whatever, but you’re really never gonna say yes to a date, are you?” 

You paused before answering, remembering that time last year that he’d asked about actually taking you out to dinner. You had thought about it, but in the end you just decided you had no desire to even slightly pivot in the direction of being any more than friends with benefits with someone. Though, if anyone were able to sway you away from that mindset after Jungkook, it would be Hoseok, but just not yet.

“If I let you take me to Steak n’ Shake after this, will that suffice?” You giggled at the way he rolled his eyes while still smiling. 

“I have leftovers in my fridge better than the food from there, so I’ll let you have that.” He paused, a slight glimmer filling his eyes. “Maybe I’ll light a candle, make it romantic, sort of like a date.” 

Your skin prickled slightly at the mention of the candle, a call back to one of their more… unconventional hook ups from last year.

“Is candle wax being melted onto my naked body and drunkenness really a good mix?” You asked, even though it had been one of the best feelings you had ever experienced. 

“Not that drunk, but it could always wait until the morning.” 

You tapped your finger to your lips as if you were pondering it. “Let me get my last drink and I’ll let you know my answer.” 

“I have a tab open.” He motioned towards the bar. “Just get it on mine.” 

“Thanks,” You said, even though you planned to pay for it yourself. Random guys you didn’t mind hustling a few free drinks from, but not guys you were actually sort of friends with. 

You walked up to the bartender. ��Vodka Sprite,” You said over the thumping music. He nodded and then stepped to the left and made your drink. He handed it to you as you slipped him your credit card, motioning to close the tab out. 

You were already halfway done with sipping on the drink when the bartender returned a slight look of awkwardness on his face. “Uh, it declined.” 

Your brows furrowed. Your financial aid refund for school had definitely been deposited into your bank account. You knew this because you had jumped for joy when it hit and you were finally able to return to the sanctuary that is no-ads Hulu. There was enough to cover your dues for staying in the Tri Delt house this semester, so there should certainly have been enough to cover a four dollar drink. You were pondering what to do, maybe just put it on Hoseok’s tab like he said you could. It was probably just your actual bank having issues and it would sort itself out in the morning anyways. You were just about to say to put it on his tab when someone slid their muscled bicep right in front of your face with a credit card in hand. 

You knew that it was pathetic that you knew exactly who that bicep belonged to before he even turned to look at your face, black strands of hair hanging over his forehead.

“I got it,” Jungkook said to the bartender. 

“Why’d you do that?” You asked. 

“Because I was right behind you and heard him, and I know how embarrassed you get about things like that.” He shrugged, grabbing the paper and pen that the bartender slid back towards him. 

He was right. You had terrible secondhand embarrassment, let alone actual first hand embarrassment. “Well… thanks. I don’t know why it did that. I got my refund already.” 

“Just check your bank account. If the money’s in there then the bank system is probably just fucked up right now.” 

“Yeah…” You slid your phone out of your pocket and immediately went to your banking app and pressed your fingerprint down onto the login. You waited a few seconds, and when your balance appeared on the screen, you felt your heart drop. “What in the actual fuck?” You said, staring at your bank account with a whopping dollar and twenty cent in it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowed as he rounded to your side to look at your screen to see the low number that was not at all what it was yesterday. “I thought you said you got your refund?” 

You were shaking your head. “I… I did. I don’t know what the hell happened. Oh my god, I’m gonna freak the fuck out. I have to pay my housing cost for Tri-Delt with that money. Like what the fuck is going on—”

You felt Jungkook’s on your back, rubbing light circles. “Just breathe.” You stiffened at the touch, but didn’t try to pull away. “It’s probably just a financial aid fuck up. Call them tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

You knew that he was probably right, but a creeping feeling was telling you otherwise. This was your fourth year in college dealing with the same exact scholarships every single semester and this had never happened before. 

“Fuck.” You brought your hands up to push at either of your temples. “That really just fucked up my whole mood. I’m not even horny anymore—” You cringed, realizing what you just said. “Please, just ignore me I’m drunk.” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression he’d made at your admission. 

“What’re you doing now? Where’s Sana and Jennie?” He asked, ignoring your flub and finally lowering his hand from your back. 

“They’re not here. Jennie left earlier and I told Sana I was gonna go home with… Hoseok, but now I just wanna go lay in bed by myself so I can spiral into every negative possibility of why my bank account looks like that.” 

“It’s gonna be fine.” This time he placed his hand on the back of your neck, cupping it slightly. It was a motion that had always for some reason calmed you down when things got overwhelming. It seemed he remembered. But even though you appreciated the comfort, the feeling of his hand there made something in your stomach flutter — that stupid feeling of longing seriously needed it’s wings shredded. You gripped his forearm, pulling it away from you, and you saw something shift in his eyes as you did so. 

“I guess I’m gonna go tell Hoseok that I’m just gonna go home—” But then you suddenly remembered something. “Fuck! I can’t Uber because I don’t have any money on my card.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This day was so bad and then actually pretty good, only to turn out fucking awful.” 

There was a couple of seconds of silence between the two of you, but you kept your eyes closed, trying to clear the fog in your head from all the alcohol to figure out what you were going to do. However, Jungkook finally let out a sigh before speaking. “Come on.”

“What?” You asked.

“All of these people are trying to get out of here at once and they’re ordering Uber’s at the same time.” He flashed his phone screen, showing that it was not only almost closing time, but that the next driver wouldn’t be available for thirty-two minutes with everyone having already ordered their rides. “It’s a twenty minute walk back to your house. I’ll just walk you there.” 

Even though Jungkook was currently the president of the Lambdas, he actually decided not to live in the frat house this year and instead opted for a cheaper apartment that was still near campus. You and Jungkook both relied on scholarships to pay for most of your schooling,  and fraternity and sorority dues on their own were not cheap, and living on Greek Drive only made that burden a million times worse. 

But the point was that Jungkook had no need to go to campus because he lived in a completely different direction now.

“You don’t even live there anymore. How’re you gonna get home?” You asked. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch and get Tae or Jimin to drive me to my place in the morning.” He shrugged. 

You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of having to walk all the way back to campus with Jungkook,  considering just a five minute car ride earlier in the day had been sufficiently awkward all on its own. But you also were unfortunately no longer in the mood for sex, leaving Hoseok’s house out of the picture, and your bank account was for some reason drained, which resulted in you only having one option really. 

“Alright,” You finally said. “Just let me tell Hoseok and then we can go.” 

He nodded as you walked back towards the group of soccer players, tapping Hoseok on the shoulder. It seemed your dismay was painted plainly on your face because he immediately asked what was wrong. 

“I actually can’t hang out tonight. I just found out my bank account is fucked up and I can’t really think about anything else right now, so I was just gonna head home, but I wanted to let you know. I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re fine,” He said, shaking his head. “Do you have a way home then?” 

You glanced towards Jungkook, releasing a heavy sigh. “Uhm, yeah, Jungkook was gonna walk me.” 

Hoseok’s eyes darted toward where you pointing, narrowing slightly. Most people knew about the feud between the Lambdas and the Tri Delts, which meant most people also knew the details about why there was a feud in the first place. 

“Are you sure you’re good with that?” Hoseok asked. 

Not really, but a twenty minute walk wasn’t going to kill you. “We’re fine, promise. Actually we’ve been… cordial lately.” You tried to say it like it was actually the truth, but you thought maybe if you spoke it into existence then it would actually come to fruition. 

Hoseok tilted his head, giving you a look that said he didn’t really believe you, but regardless he pulled you in for a hug. “Okay, let me know when you get home.” 

“I will,” You assured him before waving goodbye and making your way back towards Jungkook. 

“Ready,” He huffed, a slight annoyance seeming to coat his words as he pushed himself off of the wall and started towards the entrance. 

“Are you really gonna have an attitude?” You asked as you did a little jog to catch up with him. “I would’ve found another way if I knew you were gonna act like an ass.” 

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just tired.” He placed his hand on one of your shoulders, moving you in front of him so the two of you could move through the mass of people more quickly until you were walking through the entrance and down the wooden ramp that connected to the outside deck. 

“Then why’d you offer? I could’ve called someone to pick me up.” 

“Because,” He paused, motioning towards the crosswalk that already had dozens of drunk college kids filing through it. “I couldn’t just leave you there, and I thought just taking you home would be quicker than you calling people to try and find a ride.” 

Ouch. He was just trying to be nice and you were calling him an ass. Heat flushed beneath your skin from embarrassment. “I’m sorry…” You finally said as you made it to the sidewalk and began the straight shot down the main road towards Greek Drive. “Thank you for making sure I got home alright.” You added, avoiding any eye contact and opting to walk a little bit in front of him. 

After about five entire minutes of silence you thought to yourself, yeah, this was going pretty much as expected. But you were thankful that at least there wasn’t any hostility. You didn’t want any more arguments like the ones from today.  You had seethed at each other after the two of you left President Kwon’s office. Had thrown insults at one another at the meeting between your houses. Like sure, maybe the silence hurt more than it should’ve. The idea that the guy you started dating and fell in love with when you were a junior in high school not even being able to fake a conversation with you for twenty minutes was mildly heartbreaking to say the least. But again, the silence was better than the anger that had fueled most of your interactions since breaking up the summer after starting college. 

You had become somewhat content with the lack of speaking. You were still a few steps ahead of Jungkook as he walked behind you, but he suddenly picked up speed and joined you, shoulder skating against yours before he was curving his hand around your waist and nudging you to go to the side of the sidewalk that wasn’t closest to the main road that was currently buzzing with post-bar traffic. 

“Wouldn’t want you falling face first into a Camero that someone’s Daddy bought them, Drunkie,” He said, offering a playful smile as he dropped his arm back down to his side. 

You were caught so off guard by the positive expression from Jungkook that it took you a second for your head to actually realize what he had even said. You pushed his shoulder. “I’m not even drunk anymore.”

“Well, considering I can literally smell the tequila on you, I’d rather not take any chances of you falling into oncoming traffic.” 

“You’re being nice.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Too nice.” 

“What?” He chuckled. “I’m just making an effort to try and fix things between us so that the members don’t see us constantly fighting and think it’s okay to do the same.” 

Ah, that’s what it was. He didn’t care if you guys actually patched this up, just that it looked like you did. 

“Well, we could always pretend to like each other, since the appearance is all that actually matters apparently.” You forced a smile and began walking a little bit faster. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of being alone with him and his stupid presence that overwhelmed you with thoughts that you wished would just disappear. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He said almost immediately, not letting that unbearable plunge into silence return. “I would love it if we could be nice to each other and actually mean it… I just…” He trailed off, seeming to hesitate in whatever he was trying to say. 

“Just spit it out.” 

There was one more second of a brief pause before he spoke quietly. “I just don’t think that’s ever going to happen, because I know you still blame me for everything.” 

You tensed up, still keeping your pace of being slightly ahead of him. You inhaled a deep breath through your mouth before turning to look over your shoulder at him, his eyes already waiting to meet yours. 

“I don’t blame you.” You smiled, but with a sad furrowing of your brows. “I… resent you.” 

Jungkook’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening in surprise. “I mean, that’s… that’s even worse than blaming me.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.” 

His expression turned more puzzled. “How is you resenting me better than you blaming me?” 

“Because, blame implies that I think it’s your fault… Resentment just means I’m angry and upset, regardless of whether I think you were right or wrong for what happened.” You felt the bridge of your nose begin to tingle with that telltale sign of tears, so you quickly looked forward and urged them to stay hidden until you were at least in the comfort of your own room. “I’m just resentful of the things I now think and feel about myself, but that isn’t your fault. It’s my issue to deal with.” You shrugged. 

“What things do you think and feel about yourself?” He asked, and you could tell that he had hurried his pace and was a little closer behind you now. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want to talk about this. The two of you hadn’t had an in depth conversation like this since you’d first broken up. But things were different now compared to that first conversation. Back then it was raw and fresh, the pain too intense to notice what was growing underneath. Now it was a scar, and you were left with all of the emotions, feelings, and implications of how and why things ended. 

“I… I don’t really wanna talk about it honestly.” You said that, but you also wanted Jungkook to understand that you were perfectly aware of how you had acted the past few years. You may have said and acted in ways that seemed bitchy and ridiculous, but it was because of these disgusting emotions that were now plaguing your mind constantly, and maybe it was time he knew. “I kind of wish we had broken up over this giant fight that was about something unfixable. Something where we both clearly did things wrong and we were both through with each other because there was no way either of us were going to change our minds. I think I could’ve dealt with that so much better than what you actually broke up with me for. Which was just the fact that you thought I was...” You trailed off, the word that bombarded your thoughts mercilessly landing on your tongue. “Boring.”

You heard the way his shoes scratched against the concrete at his screeching halt, and he clearly thought that that was going to stop you as well, but you kept going, not actually wanting to hear any response from him. You said your piece and now maybe he would understand. But of course you knew that he wasn’t just going to let it end like that, which was made apparent when you felt him suddenly gripping your arm, trying to get you to slow down for a second. 

“I never said or even thought that about you, Y/N, ever.” He tried to pull you to look at him, but you twisted your body and threw a hand over your face to cover your eyes that were already glistening. 

“No, stop,” You said firmly, and he ceased with trying to get you to look at him. “I told myself after that night in my room I was never going to let you see me cry over you ever again, and if I look at you right now, I will. I just know I will, so please just stop.” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, leaving just the sound of grasshoppers and the random gust of cars passing by. You thought maybe he would just let it go and you could continue the last few minutes of the walk without speaking, but you had verbalized your thoughts and Jungkook was without a doubt going to respond. 

“I know how it’s easy to think that,” He started, his voice a whisper with his hand still wrapped around your arm, as if he was afraid you would bolt down the street without letting him finish if he let you go. “But that’s not why I ended things. You were the first girl I ever actually dated, and when we got here I just started thinking about—”

“—All of your new exciting options.” You cut in, anger flaring before you could stop it. 

“Y/N…” He trailed off, squeezing your arm. “That’s not what it was—”

“—No,” You said before he could try and dance his way through some explanation of how he just wanted to go crazy in college without actually saying it out loud. “You don’t have to explain it again. I’d rather you didn’t actually. I remember in excruciating detail the way you explained it that night. I understand, I get it… So, p-please,” Your voice cracked, finally being too overwhelmed by this entire situation. “Let’s just keep walking and not talk about it anymore. Please.” 

It turned so quiet I could even hear how hard Jungkook was breathing. It sounded heavy but unnatural, like he was trying to forcibly steady his heartbeat. And after a few seconds you felt him finally drop his hand from your arm and you didn’t wait for him to say a single word before you started down the sidewalk again.

The Tri Delt house was five minutes away, leading to five minutes of complete and utter silence between two people that was so palpable it blocked out the scratching of your shoes as you walked and the rustle of tiny animals running through the trees next to you. It engulfed you in this tunnel of noiselessness. 

Eventually you saw the bend at the end of the street where yours and Jungkook’s houses sat next to one another. It was only a little bit away, yet it felt so far. Twenty minutes. All it had taken was twenty minutes of the two of you not partaking in your back and forth hostility from the last few years for you to break down again. It felt pathetic. It was completely pathetic. 

You were finally approaching the point where the Tri Delt and Lambda house split into opposite directions. All you had to do was keep walking straight while Jungkook veered to the left and— 

You felt the light tug at the belt loop of your jeans, stopping you in place, just like from earlier today after the suspension meeting. You were about to tell him to let you go, when he beat you to the punch. 

“You’re not boring, Y/N. You never have been.” He was so close you could feel his breath hitting the back of your head. “It was one of the millions of reasons that I loved you. I just wanted you to know that.” 

And then he was gone. The pressure of someone tugging you in place disappearing, leaving you to catch your balance as you finally stood alone. You forced yourself to stare straight ahead as you walked towards your front door, not daring to look at him as he walked to the Lambda house. You shoved your keys inside the lock, forcing it open and then taking the stairs by two’s until you were collapsing in your bed, fingers crushing your pillow as you finally let yourself cry. 

——--

A phone was ringing inside of your dreams. It was ringing and ringing and ringing until you realized the sound was coming from some otherworldly place — oh yeah, that would be the current hell that is your life. 

You blinked a couple of times, blindly reaching for the source of the noise that was lost somewhere in your bed. You finally felt your hand slide across the leather of your phone case. You brought it up to read the name and you felt your stomach curl. 

‘Jungkook the Jackass’ was calling. And if it weren’t for the fact that he was calling you at seven in the morning you probably would’ve just sent him straight to voice mail in order to avoid any further conversations about what transpired last night. But alas, it was seven in the morning and just seemed to be too early of a time for him to be calling about something mundane. 

You regretfully lifted the phone to your ear. “Yes?” You grumbled, voice scratchy. 

“We have a problem.” No mention of last night. It was just a clear cut declaration that did not sound good. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up from bed. 

“Come outside your house. Now.” 

Your eyes widened and you instantly jumped from bed. He sounded urgent enough that you decided your flimsy nighttime apparel was going to have to do. You hurried down the stairs and opened the front door, revealing Jungkook in the front yard staring at something. 

“What is it?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to hide your bralessness. 

Jungkook pressed his lips together as he pointed towards the front of the Tri Delt house. “My idiot Lambda Brothers.” 

You followed the direction of his finger, your mouth dropping at the sight before you. 

Dozens and dozens and dozens of boxers covering every inch of the first story of the house. You turned towards Jungkook, so angry and anxiety-riddled that someone from administration had already seen this, that you could hardly speak. 

“I’m going to murder them,” You finally managed to spit through clenched teeth. 

“No,” He started, turning to you, mirroring your own frustration. “I’m going to murder them.” 

→ part 02

[l4verq]

remnants (1)

ransom drysdale x reader

in which you have to protect ransom drysdale because he has the same face as steve rogers, your ex who’s gone back to peggy

warnings : fights, guns, hostage situation, tiny bit of violence

if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk in the comments💗

ʀᴇᴍɴᴀɴᴛꜱ

*not my gif*

-

ransom’s seen pretty much everything.

travelled around the world, eaten the finest delicacies, snapped away for five years into non-existence all because of a purple, ball-sack face alien.

or so he thought.

because sitting here cuffed to a chair infront of you barely conscious, he begs to differ.

how did the night get so fucked so fast?

“hey.” he extends his leg, trying to nudge yours desperately.

you were a sight to behold with your hair undone, dark locks tousled around your delicate neck.

but ransom can’t afford to marvel at you, in fact the first thing he needs to do is get the fuck away from you.

because the way you’d jammed that glass cup up that bartender’s throat without a second thought, you were no ordinary woman.

“psst, hey.” He tries again, eyes skimming over the room.

they probably were holding them both for ransom.

hell would freeze over before he gave any of his money to those fuckers who chained him up like a dog.

you stir around slightly as you slowly open your heavy eyes. a groan slips out when you try to adjust yourself, only tightening the hold on your hands.

“good, you’re up.”

you lift your head to see a bloodied ransom across you.

slumping back into your seat, your body cries out in pain at the slightest movements.

as soon as you’d tasted the martini, you knew it was an ambush, thankfully spitting most of it out.

but it was too late, the drug almost instantaneously taking action, making you groggy.

the last thing you vaguely remember is dragging ransom out only to be whacked out cold, seeing stars.

“what’s going on? hey, are you going back to sleep?”he asks, straining his leg out to nudge yours again.

“you just don’t shut up, do you?” you croak out, barely above a whisper.

“i’m being held hostage in this room,” his nose scrunches up, “so, I’m sorry if I’m just a little curious as to what the fuck is going on.”

he looks almost pitiful, dried blood on his forehead and desperation in his eyes.

reminds you of steve after missions when he would limp around, all bruised up.

your eyes flicker over to the one camera pointed right at you, but the way it was angled you knew your hands weren’t in view.

“do you know about the avengers?” you work on dislocating your wrist to free your hands chained behind you.

not exactly your favourite thing but it worked everytime.

he rolls his eyes and quirks an eyebrow.

“you think I don’t know the avengers? the whole ‘saviours of the world but we choose to remain anonymous’ crap?”

“well, you’re looking at one right now.” you give an umamused smile, slightly flinching at the wrench that causes a tear in your ligaments.

he probably wouldn’t have believed you if he hadn’t witness you take down six people with such ease just a few hours? ago.

“anyways long story short, you look just like captain america and for some reason hydra just can’t seem to get over that face of yours.”

he lets out a genuine laugh which only seems to intensify the throbbing pain in his head.

you were a whole other kind of crazy.

“steve rogers? no one’s even seen his face under that dumb cowl of his.” he snorts, noticing the slight shift in your face at the mention of steve.

“andy barber. jake jensen. colin shea. ever heard of them?”

another tear.

he shakes his head, his irritation only growing by the very second.

“a few months ago, each one of them started disappearing one after the other. the only thing they had in common was their faces. they looked exactly like you, like him.”

you clench your jaw as you position your wrist for the final twist.

the last one always hurt like a bitch.

“you’re crazy.” he huffs, in disbelief.

he knew he shouldn’t have gone to that stupid event, not let his mother get in his head like always.

he could be at home right now, in his lavish three bedroom villa overlooking the sylvan surroundings.

but here he was, tied up in a filthy room with an avenger.

you might have to agree with him on the crazy part because you’re regretting the whole dislocating thing when the last twist pulls through, pain nearly blinding you.

he can only watch in horror as he realises what you’re doing.

“no, like you’re actually insane.” he breathes out in disbelief as your hands slip out of the chain.

the door swings open, guns pointed right at you.

a particular face in the middle catches your eye as you recognise him.

“you know you’re not getting out of here that easy, right?” zemo chuckles, “broke those pretty bones for nothing.”

“you get blipped for five years and this is the first thing you do? somebody needs to get a life.” you slowly get up, hands raised (you think?)

you couldn’t really feel them anymore.

“sit back down.” he orders, gun pointed right at your head.

he yells at you to sit down again but the gun’s pointed at ransom now.

“holy fuck, dude, don’t point that shit at me. this is how 99% of the people in movies die.” ransom pleads, his eyes closed.

“he’s not steve, you know that. so, why are you doing this? I mean I know why I’m doing this.” you hesitantly sit back down, your ears pleased for once to hear the familiar whirring.

just a few more seconds. that’s all you needed.

he cocks his head, “doing what?”

“buying time.”

ransom’s seen enough action movies to know the probability of him accidentally being shot by any of the rain of bullets whizzing past you two right now is high.

too high for his liking.

he thinks he saw a red flying thing knock out zemo? before you pushed him down so hard the chair broke.

“jesus christ, are you trying to kill me?” He yells, his back throbbing in pain.

and all of a sudden, it’s quiet,a persistent ringing taking over his ears.

he opens his eyes to see you hovering over his face.

it’s weird, your lips seem to be moving but he can’t hear you.

and it’s all black.

“i just want you to know that what you did back there, that was stupid.” sam glares at you, in the rearview mirror.

“and dumb.” bucky chimes in.

you roll your eyes.

it was going to be a long ride to the safehouse.

the car bumps and ransom bounces around, his head hitting the top.

“jesus, hold him or something.” bucky turns around, looking at ransom’s unconscious body sprawled on the seat.

you scoot over closer to ransom, your hand guiding his head to your lap.

bucky turns back around, a grin creeping up to his face which you just want to punch off.

you look down at the bloody mess on Ransom’s forehead, fingers slightly grazing over it.

it was done with a blunt object, most likely the back of a gun.

you can’t stop staring at his face, the same lump forming in your throat again.

so you force yourself to look away, focus on the trees zooming past until sam stops the car infront of a small house, “we’re here.”

bucky hands you a bag of essentials, waving at you to go in, “we got him.”

the house is actually better than most safe houses you’re used to.

it has electricity and hot water and that’s already made it a top contender.

you head straight for the shower, stripping down to nothing while turning on the water.

you hiss in pain at the contact of water on your aching skin.

the water’s scorching hot but it’s the only way you feel clean.

you scrub off the grime and dirt like always, desperately washing away the dried blood under your fingernails.

a trail of reddish brown water as you wash your hair, nails scratching every surface of your scalp.

quickly changing into a set of clean clothes, you pull out a box of needles.

you’re sloppy with your stitches, maybe cause you’d gotten used to him doing it for you.

throwing your wet hair into a towel, you debate whether to clean his wound up or not.

but your hand is already reaching for the bag of first aid sprawled all over the sink.

“it’s just a nice thing to do.” you mumble, making your way to the living room.

sam’s passed out on the couch adjacent to ransom and you’re pretty sure bucky went out to get some food.

they’ve changed his clothes for him but the ugly bruise on his forehead only seems to be swelling up.

you sit down on the floor, rummaging through the box, pulling out cotton and antiseptic.

“am I dead?” he croaks out, slightly shifting.

you chuckle, looking back at him.

a few dabs of the brown liquid on the cotton.

“this is gonna sting.” You warn him before gently wiping the angry bruise.

he flinches, groaning in pain.

“where am I?”

“safe.”

“yea, that’s really comforting.” he looks up at you in annoyance.

you exchange to a new waft of cotton, still cleaning up the dried up blood.

it’s strange, how weird yet nice your gentle touches feel.

the way your lips slightly part and eyebrows knit together as you concentrate.

ransom never really had someone take care of him like this.

“wher’s Steve?” he asks the lingering question on his mind.

there’d been many conspiracy theories online, each one crazier than the other.

he again notices the slight clench of the jaw, the shift in your position at the mention of his name.

“gone.” you reply stoically, placing the gauze over the swelling wound.

a shit reply but he can’t bring himself to pry further.

you look down at his face, the familiarity of this catching you offguard.

after every mission, he’d force you to sit down and tend to your every wound, every scratch.

can’t have my girl walking around, all bruised up like that.

and you’d force him to sit down and do the same.

it was always so personal, standing between his legs, his hands around your waist while yours worked around.

“hey, you okay?” ransom lifts his head, regretting it instantly as pain shoots up his entire body.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill any second.

“yeah, I’m good. Get some rest.”

you fumble around, hurriedly picking up the first aid kit, your shaky hands doing little to help you.

you were clearly distraught and ransom had a sneaking suspicion why.

-

a/n : i dont even know if u can physically dislocate your wrist yourself lol, im just making shit up as i go lmao

[coffeecakefanfics]

A moments glance | B.B x Fem!Reader

Requests are open!!!!!

Summary: Bucky misses the feeling of human connection, both emotional and physical, so does Y/N. After a particularly brutal mission the two can deny their want any longer 

Warnings:  Language, angst? SMUT! (probably badly written but oh well)  This fic is a lot longer than I wanted but it’s worth it I promise.

Missions are normally pretty easy.  Luckily it was the dream team that got stuck on this mission together.  Sam, Bucky, and Y/n stood around a base layout, making a plan as to how to get this mission to sail smoothly. It was a simple job, repo a plane that had been stolen and return it to the owners, aka the fucking US Military. 

“So Y/n has pilot knowledge so if we can get through the fence and to it she can fly it back here to base, easy,” Sam explained the plan to the soldiers. 

“Sam and Bucky will go with me as my second hands and eyes, be my body guards,” Y/n nodded and looked up. “This is an easy job so it shouldn’t take long, maybe a couple hours, but stay on standby in case force is needed,” the woman stood straight and tapped her fingers on the table.  The crew split into the groups, taking their places.  Sam sat in the drivers seat of the car while Y/n sat in the front and Bucky was stuck in the back. 

“We’re here, everyone ready?” Sam asked and threw the car in park.

“Are we ever ready?” Bucky snarked and stepped out.  The three were greeted by a fence with barbed wire across the top. 

“Can we break it down?” Bucky looked between the two.

“That my dear would be destruction of property, a charge none of us can afford right now,” She huffed and opened the backseat, pulling the floor mat out. 

“What the hell are you doing with that?” Sam looked at the girl as if she was crazy.

“Throwing the mat over the wire?” she furrowed her brow and tossed the mat over the fence and scaled it. 

“Coming? or am I leaving you two dummies for the birds?” she smirked. 

“Ha ha very funny,” Sam snarked back. 

“This guy,” she smiled playfully at Bucky, who in return smiled back, a small one, but a smile. 

“There she is, look at this beauty,” Y/n motioned to the plane.  The three climbed in, starting the engine. 

“Bucky once we’re in the air I want you to contact the air force and tell them their plane is on it’s way,” she spoke calmly as she started down the runway. She was setting up controls when Bucky’s voice broke their silence. 

“Uh guys? I think we got company,” a black SUV sped down the runway, stopping before two guys stepped out wielding guns. 

“Pull up!” Sam yelled the girl.

“I’m trying,” she yelled back, the plane getting closer before finally taking off. The firing followed them up into the air. 

“Looks like we’re clear,” Y/n took a breath.

“There’s probably a reason they didn’t want us taking the plane,” Bucky commented.

“If I had to guess, drugs, I mean the air force tests flights so much that nobody bats an eye, especially at fort carson,” the woman nodded. “Sam can you check all of the compartments?” she looked back at him. 

“Yeah, of course,” he tipped his head and began opening the compartments lining the walls, bags of cocaine spilled out of an overhead bin.

“Oh shit, that’s thousands of dollars worth of hard drugs right there,” she peered back at the mess.

“yeah no shit, what do we do?” 

“Get on the comms and alert them of what’s happening”

“on it” 

The blaring sound took over their voices. 

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked

“We’re losing altitude, buckle in for a crash landing”

“I’m sorry what?!”

“Do it!” she barked “Sam jump and get to the base, let them know what happened, go now!” she was barking orders at them.  

“I’ll hurry back” Sam called and jumped, catching wind just in time.

“So what are we just going to die?”

“No, not if I can help it. But we are going to have to drop into the mountains, so hold on to something,” she gave him a sympathetic look.  The plane crashed down into the mountain, losing the wings in the process.  The two climbed out, seemingly unharmed. 

“So what are we just going to sit here and wait?” Bucky looked at the girl.

“I’m afraid so, we can’t risk moving, they won’t find us,” she huffed and slumped against an aspen tree.

“Great,” Bucky huffed and sat across from her, against a fallen pine log.  The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the ringing in their ears taking over. 

“Have you ever been this far west?” Y/n asked. Bucky peeked up at her. Sighing he tossed a rock to his left. 

“No, at least, not that I can recall,” he looked back at the dirt. 

“It’s pretty, Pikes peak is worth the view, if you ever get to go,” she cleared her throat, awkwardness settling in. 

“You been?”

“Yeah, I uh, I grew up here, in springs, that’s why I knew about the fort carson stuff.  They always test fly and they take kids for rides sometimes.  also teach kids how to pilot when they reach a certain age,” she trailed off. 

“Military brat?” 

“Yeah” 

“I never knew that,” he looked at her, really looked at her.  He noticed how she sat with her knees up, but her shoulders slumped.  Her she chewed on the inside of her lip.

“I never really told anyone,” she shrugged,”You know we have worked on the same team for I don’t know how many years and yet I feel like I hardly know you,” she remarked. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I don’t really open up to people, it’s not something I do,” it was his turn to chew on his lip.

“I get it, you up walls, try and protect yourself. . .”she trailed off, a soft rustling in the brush caught her attention. She held her finger to her lips and slowly stood, Bucky following her move.  The two crouched and ducked behind some bush.

“They couldn’t have gotten far, move,” a mans voice barked. Y/n looked at Bucky with wide eyes.  Bucky scanned the are before nodding to a path, they crept their way over, carful not to make too much noise. One they had gotten far enough away they stood straight and starting sprinting.  

“The guys that hijacked the plane?” She asked.

“That’s my guess,” he shrugged. 

“Bucky I need to stop,” she panted, trying to catch her breath.

“We’re probably far enough away,” he slowed to a stop.  

“I’m sorry,” she took a ragged breath

“It’s fine, not all of us are, what do you like to say? built different,” he cracked a smile.  Y/n smiled back at him before they broke off into laughter.

“You remembered that dumb saying?”

“I try to remember them all, I’m trying to make my place in this world, and if that means learning the lingo then I guess I have to”

“Must be hard,” she stood next to him, “trying to get used to this”

“you have no ide-” a gunshot and a scream of pain cut him off. His eyes shot in the direction of the shot before landing on the girl, crumpled on the forest floor. 

“Shit” he scooped her up and started sprinting west. 

“Shit shit shit, hey doll, if you can hear me keep  your eyes open you hear,” he peeked down at her. She was clutching her stomach.

“Tell me something, tell me about, tell me about your house of a kid,” he scrambled to find anything to talk about.  

“yellow,” she breathed,” it was yellow” He caught sight of a cave and ducked into it. 

“keep going”

“It had, two floors and an attic, the uh, the upstairs had a balcony,” she took deep breaths.  Bucky pulled out a knife and cut the bottom of his shirt, putting pressure on his wound. 

“Bucky?” she looked at him as close as she could

“yeah?”

“What was your favorite part about the forties?”

He laughed. “The stupid dive bars, going dancing,” he thought for a second.

“Were you any good?” Y/n teased.

“Oh please, look at me, I was the best,” he said, jokingly cocky. The silence took over.  The only sound was a ragged breath every now and then.  Y/n Held her phone up. 

“Nothing,” she felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Bucky?” She got his attention.

“yeah Y/n? what’s up?”

“If i’m going to die today, can I at least get to know you before I go?” she asked

“Listen to me, and you listen to me good, you ain’t dying today got it?” he spoke sharply, but with concern laced and weaved in his voice. 

“In my jacket is a pack of matched, I saw some twigs and pinecones at the opening of the cave, grab them, make a fire, please, i’m freezing,” she pleaded.  Bucky didn’t say anything as he obliged.  The small fire illuminated the walls, but was small enough that they wouldn’t be spotted.  Bucky sat across from Y/n, he watched as she scanned the walls. 

“Mica,” she spoke plainly. 

“Yeah, ton of the shit too,” he kind of huffed, looking around.

“They used to make windows out of it, for cars and shit, also dry wall, but most importantly it used for stuff like spark plugs,and electronic components like compasses during world war 2 ” she stated, half heartedly. Bucky looked at the girl shocked.

“Yeah, thats- how’d you know that?”

“Grandpa fought in the war, told me all kinds of stories before he passed, also taught me about minerals and stuff before he passed too, he and dad used to take me camping, they’d teach me how to hunt, farm, fish, find and purify water, which berries and shrooms are good to eat, case I ever got lost,” she laughed and winced at the pain.  “I miss them,” she sighed.

“Those are good skills to have,” Bucky smiled at her. He went silent.  It had been a few hours, no sign of anyone.  He looked at Y/n, she didn’t look great, she was pale, she was growing tired. He didn’t want her to be miserable, or to die not knowing him. 

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, I was born March 10th 1917, I have a younger sister named Rebecca, we called her Becca,” He spoke up.  Y/n looked at him with a smile and nodded him on to continue, “I’ve always wanted a cat, and if I could have kids i’d want a daughter, I’d name her Scarlett,” he stammers on. The young woman listens attentively.  Her breathing became slower, more strained. 

“no no no, don’t fucking die on me,” he jumped over to her, clutching her wound. “Please, I barley know you, I want to know more,” he pleaded.  She smiled at him and held her blood soaked hand to his cheek. 

“thank you,” she husked before her eyes rolled back. 

“No!” he yelled.

“Bucky?!” Sam, it was Sam, and the air force.  Bucky was pulled away as they loaded Y/n onto the chopper and raced her back to base.  Hot tears slipped down his face as the world seemed to slow down.  His connection, the one person he started to open up to was ripped from his arms, just as the walls came tumbling down. 

He sat pacing the hospital room, her body laid limp in the bed, unmoving, just as it had for the past two days.  The nurses tried to get him to go home, but after the third shift change and his protests to stay after visiting hours they gave up.  He stared out the window, looking to the mountains, they were still capped with snow.  He remembers her saying she was freezing, he recognizes that feeling now.  Cold, unmoving, dead.

“Hey champ,” a hoarse voice spoke in the room. He spun on his heels, Her eyes were opened, still droopy from the pain killer, but opened. 

“Thank god you’re okay,” he yanked a chair beside her and clutched her hand.

“I should’ve believed you,” she cracked a smile, Bucky felt his eyes well. Why? He still barely knew her. 

“My name is Y/n L/n I was born (your birthday), I have no siblings, I have always wanted a dog and if I had a kid i’d want a little boy named Matthew,” she squeezed his hand slightly.

“Good morning,” another womans voice broke the room with a knock. “I’m your nurse for this morning, my name is Sarah Good, yes like the book the crucible and i’ll take care of you till 7 tonight,” she smiled at the two brightly. “Todays agenda, always will be on the board, we want to get you to be able to be in a sitting position, and we want to start PT, or physicsl therapy if we can, We’re going to try and get you a real lunch today, and if we’re lucky you can get off those iv’s by tomorrow”

The last week was rough, But Bucky sat beside her through it all, they talked about life, about death, the world, every little thing they could think of.  When she was released it was Bucky who escorted her back across the country to home.  Sam met them at her apartment for diner and a toast to a job not so smooth for the dream team, now stronger that all three had a bond.  Sam had left about an hour ago, Bucky insisted on staying to help clean up. 

“Bucky, really this is too much to ask, it’s fine,”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s the least I can do”

“It’s late, do you want to stay? I mean I can take the couch and you can take my bed it-”

“I’m not taking your bed doll, I’ll take the couch if you really want me to stay but it’s not a problem for me to go home,” he smiled at her and set the last plate in the dish washer. 

“I kind of got used to you staying around,” she blushed. “We can watch a movie?” she offered.

“Sounds great”

They weren’t paying attention to the movie, well at least they pretended to,  Each watched the other out of the corner of their eyes. It was Y/n who made the first move, leaning her head on his shoulder, Bucky tucked his arm around the woman, inching her closer.  She felt her face get hot, she peered up at him to find him looking back, they ripped their eyes apart and both went flush. 

“Bucky-

Y/n I-” they spoke at the same time, letting out a laugh. 

“Go first,” he insisted. 

“No, it’s fine,” she stammered. 

“Y/n I- I really like you, I’m glad I let down my walls for you,” he swallowed the lump in his throat.  She felt her breath hitch. 

“I was going to say the same thing,” she spoke, barely above a whisper.  It hadn’t occurred to the couple just how close they were to each other.  Y/n felt Bucky’s breath dance across her face. 

“Can I. . . can I kiss you?” he breathed out.  She sim-ply nodded and met his lips, soft and delicate at first before he set his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in.  Her  lips were intoxicating, he could get drunk on her. She let a moan slip as he pulled her into his lap gently. He felt his eyes roll at the sound. She ground into his lap, letting the feeling of his growing bulge tease her. She laced her fingers in his short hair, gently tugging where she could, causing a groan and for him to buck his hip to meet hers.  Y/n pulled back panting, trying to catch her breath before moving her lips to meet his neck.

“Y/n doll, I uh- it’s been a while,” he panted and fought the moans that threatened to leave his throat.

“It’s okay, let me take care of you?” she caught his eyes.  Her face was pure, innocent, but her words were laced with lust. He nodded and let his hands grip her hips.  She tugged his shirt off of his body, decorating his chest with kisses, working and inching her way to his hips.  She looked up at him, he was a mess, head laid back, breathing ragged.  She carefully undid his pants and slid them down his legs.  catching the skin above his hip bones she left a small purple mark on either side, claiming him as hers.  He had looked down at her now, catching her eyes.  She licked her lips before taking him into her mouth, The moan he let rip from vocal cords was ungodly. 

“Fuck, doll I -” he let his eyes meet hers, still laced with innocence, before groaning and throwing his head back.  He let his air out in puffs as she worked him over.  Her touch was delicate and sweet, he forgot how nice it felt, to be taken care of, to be treated with kindness. She let her fingers slip to cup his balls, gently playing with them as she let her pretty mouth suck his cock. The sight was straight out of a wet dream, 

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he pleaded, grabbing her hair with his flesh hand, clutching the couch with the metal one.  The small breaths he let out only encouraged him further, she picked up her pace, daring him to cum down her throat.  A string of fucks and his hips tensing, and slowly relaxing followed soon after.  She caught his eyes, swallowing what he gave her and grinning at him.

“Holy-”

“Yeah,” she smiled. 

“Let me return the favor baby,” he pulled her back into his lap.

[wonder-womans-ex]

When In Vegas

It was loud in the locker room the next morning, but Saint was quiet.

Three days had passed since someone else’s world had been turned upside down, and Saint wasn’t sure whether he was more angry or scared—or relieved that it hadn’t been him.

Those fucking pictures, god. He had stared for hours, maybe more, hands frozen around his phone. The knowledge was unbearable—someone had done this. Someone was out to get people like them.

People like him.

But, in a way, it was also liberating. If he had to guess, he would say that no one had known about Black and Lupin. Judging from the way Tremblay had acted at All-Stars, they probably hadn’t even told their team, and god knew Saint hadn’t told his.

So, really, who was to say he was the only one? Any of the guys here, unlacing their skates beside him, could have grown up amidst thoughts of don’t look and stay silent and focus on the hockey. Any of the guys here could have had boyfriends in high school or college. Any of them could still.

He reveled in the thought. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

Black. Lupin. Tweedle.

Three names on a list wasn’t many, but it was better than one.

Saint glanced up when he felt someone watching him. His eyes met a pair of gleaming yellow ones—before meeting Greyback, he hadn’t even known that eyes could be that colour—and he steeled himself, resolutely not looking away.

Greyback smiled, and Saint recoiled internally. If there were others on the team—others in the league—Greyback was certainly not one of them.

As if Saint would ever, in a million years, want him to be.

He pulled off his second skate with one good, sharp tug. His helmet sat on the bench beside him, and he rested one elbow on it briefly. It was common knowledge that playing professional hockey was difficult, but the thing most people didn’t know was how near-impossible it was just putting on and taking off the necessary gear.

Next, after his skates, were his shin pads—big, bulky things that got hot altogether much too quickly, but at least they protected his legs. Then his jersey, his shoulder pads, his pants, until he Saint could finally lift his undershirt over his head and make his way to the showers.

The warm water felt like bliss against his aching muscles, but a part of him still pleaded to skip this bit and head straight home. All he really wanted was to curl up in bed with a bowl of ramen—decidedly not on his diet plan, but, hey, a guy could dream—and an episode of Drag Race.

And, of course, Luke. But he wasn’t allowed to think about that. Not here.

Or maybe, he realized, mind darting back to pictures taken through the windshield of a car, he could.

He had just begun to put on a pair of jeans and a tank top—grey, with the Golden Knights logo on the front and his name and number on the back—when there came a shout from the other side of the locker room.

“Hey, Tweedle!”

It was Pettigrew, one of his teammates, brandishing a ring of keys in the air. “Need a ride?”

Saint forced a smile. “Nah; I’m good. My roommate’s picking me up. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Pettigrew smiled back. “All right. See you tomorrow, Tweedle.”

“Yeah,” said Saint as he turned back to his stall. “See you.”

He packed up his gear in a sort of half-trance, thinking less about where he was and more about where he was soon to be. Saint loved hockey, true, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love other things, too.

Other people.

The army green jeep was already waiting for him outside. He glanced around briefly, scanning the parking lot for any of his teammates, then pulled open the passenger side door. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d checked to see if anyone was watching—it was, after all, nothing out of the ordinary: just a completely heterosexual hockey player getting into his completely heterosexual roommate’s car.

“Hey,” Saint said, meeting Luke’s gaze in the rearview mirror and grinning.

“Hey yourself,” Luke responded, a teasing tone to his voice. “How was practice?”

Saint just shrugged. “Same as always, I suppose. What are we having for dinner?”

Many things could be said for Luke Deveaux, and one of them was that he was a master of recognizing a subject change when he heard one. “Thought I’d finally cook up that chicken that’s been sitting in the freezer. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds fucking incredible. You really do know the way to a man’s heart.”

They smiled at each other again as Luke pulled out onto the main road—the soft kind of smile that said everything for them. Carefully, Saint reached out, resting a hand on Luke’s leg. The simple contact was really all they needed as they both looked back out to the road ahead, letting silence envelop them.

Finally, when they came to a stop at the second or third red light, Luke looked over. “What is it?” he asked quietly—genuinely, in a way only he could.

Saint made a noise of confusion. “What’s what?”

“You’re thinking.”

This time, Saint didn’t say anything for quite a while. He kept his eyes forward as the light turned green and Luke began to drive again. Eventually, just as Luke had begun to think that he wouldn’t get a response at all, Saint spoke up: “What if I introduced you to my teammates?”

Luke had a feeling he knew what Saint was getting at, but he wanted to be sure. “I’ve met a couple of them,” he said, slowly. “Pettigrew. Reaves. Dearborn. Greyback—though I didn’t like him much.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Saint said, and took a breath before continuing. “I meant like… what if I introduced you to them as my boyfriend?”

“Husband,” corrected Luke idly, jerking the wheel to the right.

“Right, yeah. But I’d still probably introduce you as my boyfriend, because, y’know—”

“Nineteen.”

“—Elvis.”

Another beat of silence. Another deep breath. “And I just thought—I was thinking that—that…”

Luke waited.

“Obviously I wouldn’t want to come out to the whole world. Not yet,” said Saint, starting again, “but… you know. People know about Black and Lupin—though they didn’t get to tell people; people were told for them. And if I said something, maybe… maybe, if there are others, they’d know… they’d know they aren’t alone.”

It was Saint’s turn to wait, now, as Luke took a left onto a side street and narrowly missed the curb. He swallowed back the slight lump in his throat—he’d said his bit; now it was time for Luke to say his.

“I love you.” Luke’s words were hushed, and, yeah, it was always nice to get reassurance, but that didn’t really clear anything up.

“I love you, too.”

“And I—” Luke sighed. “Can I have a little while? To think about it? Or, rather, not to think about it, but to think about how I’m going to say it.”

Tilting his head, Saint looked thoughtfully over at the man in the driver’s seat. “Yeah. Yeah; of course. Take all the time you need. It was just something I was thinking about.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it for a while.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, if the better part of three days counts as ‘a while,’ then, yeah; I guess. Consciously, at least. Subconsciously… maybe longer.” He shrugged. “Who knows. All I do know is that I’m absolutely crazy for you, and I’d like someone who isn’t us or the guy who officiated our wedding to know that.”

“Especially because he almost definitely doesn’t remember either of us anymore.”

“Exactly.”

This next pause was different from the previous ones—more pause-like, though that didn’t make sense, even in Saint’s head.

“It’s like,” said Luke, thoughtfully, as he turned onto their street, “remember when we got married? And neither of us said anything about it for almost a month?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember why?”

“Um, because typically you don’t get married to someone you’ve only been dating for a week and a half?”

The car slowed to a stop in front of their house. Luke pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. “Bingo.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Saint asked, tentatively, “And, uh, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s like that, because I could only see that going one of two ways: either we stayed in a marriage neither of us was ready for, or we ended both the marriage and the relationship. And so, of course, the solution my nineteen-year-old and slightly stupid self came up with was to ignore the situation entirely. You can’t annul a marriage that you don’t acknowledge exists, right?”

Saint furrowed his brow. “But… we didn’t annul the marriage.”

“Exactly.”

“...I think you’ve lost me.”

“Yeah; probably.” Luke sighed “I’m going about this all wrong. I suppose the thing I keep getting stuck on is that it would make everything more difficult if—you know.”

“No,” Saint said, “I don’t know.”

“If we broke up.” It all came out in one breath, and Luke looked anywhere but at Saint while he said.

Suddenly, Saint found it difficult to breath. “You—you think we’re going to break up?”

“No. No; god, of course not. It’s just one of those irrational fears; yeah? Like, you know the elevator isn’t going to break and send you falling to your death like Tower of Terror, but you still worry about it.”

“Not quite sure I follow.” Saint waited a moment, then added, “So… I take it you aren’t planning on breaking up with me?”

“Nope.” Luke smiled as he said it, popping the p. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

“A lot longer, hopefully.”

“Amen to that,” said Saint, then reached to unlock the car door.

“Wait,” Luke said quietly. “I’m… there’s something else.”

Saint turned back, letting go of the door handle. “Yeah?”

“I—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What was it?”

“I just—it’s been five years—or it will have been in a week, technically, but still—and… and I guess I was wondering if you… might like to do it again. That. Without Elvis, this time.”

“What, get married?”

Luke took a breath. “Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Jesus Christ, Saint; weren’t you listening to anything I just said? It doesn’t matter, anyway. Just—forget I said anything.” Now it was Luke’s turn to begin to open the car door, a rush of cold air seeping in through the gap.

“Wait—Tweedle—”

Luke paused. Saint didn’t often call him that, and, even when he did, usually when he was trying to be serious. It was something Saint would say when they were fighting—it was his way of saying I love you; I don’t regret being with you. It was not something Saint would say to someone he didn’t want to be married to.

“Yeah?” Luke didn’t look over—he kept his gaze on the sliver of pavement he could see in the space between the door and the rest of the car—but he could imagine the look on Saint’s face.

“I want to.”

“What?” He knew what Saint had said. He wasn’t asking for clarification. He was giving Saint one last chance to change his mind, and hoping desperately that Saint wouldn’t take it.

“I want to marry you. Fucking hell, of course I want to marry you. Again. Preferably sober this time. Definitely without Elvis.”

A noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Luke’s lips. “Is that your way of proposing?”

“Actually, I think it was my way of accepting your proposal. And, either way, it was better than last time, when I think I just stuck my hand up your shirt and called it a day.”

This time, Luke really did laugh. “And they say romance is dead.”

“No kidding.” A pause, then, “Do you still have your ring?”

“Do I still have my—what kind of a question is that? Of course I do! I—” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Why? Do you still have yours?”

Saint looked down, avoiding Luke's eyes. His hand went to his neck, where he pulled out a thin gold chain. On it hung the ring Luke had given him so long ago: slightly battered and riddled with notches, but in a way better than it was when they had exchanged them all those years ago, giggling on the alcohol. "Of course I do." His voice was soft—almost timid. "I'm not sure I could have gotten rid of it if I wanted to."

Luke let himself smile. “I wear mine, sometimes, you know,” he said, in a voice nearly as gentle. “When you’re not around.”

“Yeah. I—I do, too.”

“I love you.”

Saint didn’t even think before he did it. He knew, somewhere, that it was a terrible idea—that this was exactly where Black and Lupin had gone wrong—but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Luke was his husband, goddammit, and if he wanted to lean across the console and kiss him until he forgot his own name, then nothing in the world was stopping him.

Well. Nothing except his seatbelt, and even that only took him a few brief moments to discard. Then he was turning in his seat and reaching out and cupping Luke’s cheek in the palm of his hand and whispering “I love you, too,” against his lips.

"God," Saint said, pulling away. "How could I ever have stopped."

Luke quietly laughed, pulling himself away from Saint's lips. "I don't know, love; it could have been you withdrawing yourself from me. It… it almost made me think you—well, not hated me, but at least that you regretted ever getting married."

Saint made a small sound, as if Luke's words were paining him. "I would never." His eyes were starting to water. "I could never. Sure, we were too young; sure, we were drunk. Sure, it was stupid. But it was the best mistake of my life."

Another laugh, this one slightly louder. “Best mistake of mine, too.”

Luke leaned in for another kiss. “Wait,” said Saint, ignoring the noise of protest he got in return. “I have to…”

Saint reached around the back of his neck, sighing in frustration as he fiddled clumsily with the clasp of his necklace. It took him a good ten seconds, but finally he was able to lift it off and slide the ring into the palm of his hand.

The thin gold band fit perfectly around his finger—the weight was familiar; the cheap metal had already been warmed by his body heat, almost as if he had never taken it off.

“People—” Luke cleared his throat. “People will ask questions.”

“I know.”

“And what—what will—”

“What will my answer be?”

“...Yeah.”

“Sweetheart,” murmured Saint, leaning in to brush their noses together, “there’s only ever been one answer.”

“And what’s that?” At this point, Luke was just playing along—and they both knew it.

“You.”

.

amazing characters by @lumosinlove

thank you so much to @im-oknutzy-trash for being my #1 supporter while I tried to get the words to work (and letting me use some of their words when mine inevitably didn't)

note: this is based off that one ask hazel received literal months ago about how if saint were in SW he'd be on the golden knights bc he looks good in gold. no one else seems to remember it, however, so maybe I imagined it. who knows.

and, yes, Saint's last name in this is Tweedle.

[thearchvillain]

of horsefairs and maidens. part 1

nikolai lantsov x reader

link to part 2

summary: The weather is warm and the air thick with the scent of summer blossoms at the epicentre of horse auctions and races, Caryeva - and Nikolai Lantsov has been bored out of his mind for the past... what feels like an eternity. When even counting how many times his brother has made a fool of himself lost its appeal and became nearly tragic to watch, Nikolai retreated to the edges of the fair only to find that pretty girl Vasily had been dragging around all day hiding on the outskirts, seemingly desperate to escape the supposed Lantsov charm. Or whatever version of it Vasily had offered. "Tomorrow then.", he leaned down beside her, "I'll buy all your father's horses if that's what it takes." Watching her from the side he could just see the tiniest of smirks grace the corner of her lips, "That's an expensive sport you're wanting to try out." "Well, have I ever told you that I have a lot of money?" "Silly me, and here I was thinking you were a mere peasant." "Was it the humility? The rogue charm?"

word count: 2085

warnings: mentions of animal abuse, also Vasily being generally shitty as always

A/N - this is my first attempt at writing this sort of AU/imagine/excerpt, and I’ve gone overboard with the word count (as always), but I hope you will like it! i thought i might fit it into one part, but both Nikolai and the main character had so much to say I figured there would have to be another part thrown in there haha also we have some (briefly) confused!Nikolai, so I hope you enjoy that!

She'd hidden herself well, standing at the very edges of the fair where the trees cast their shadows long and wide in the evening sun, offering a pocket of peace to both the animals and the humans looking for a moment of silence, or cold breeze not laden with the scent of alcohol and sweat and horses.

Nikolai had been watching her for a while, straight-backed and still in her rider's outfit, standing near the rickety fence and looking at the horses not quite suited for the finer crowds that milled around the crown prince back at the heart of the fair. He supposed it was a good place to hide, not so much because of the forest behind them, but because his brother was far too vain to venture this far out.

"I saw you before, you're the girl who's been entertaining the crown prince.", he said, casually, noncommittally. She'd been ignoring the sound of his steps as he'd approached her from behind, drawn in by some sight before her, and even now she didn't so much as glance over her shoulder. Instead, she let out a sound that might have been a snort, but more lady-like, "Well, he's certainly not been entertaining me, so someone had to get the job done."

Nikolai stopped just short of the fence, to her left, and finally when the girl turned her head to see who she was speaking to he could see the brief flash of recognition in her eyes. So she hadn't known who she was speaking to. The surprise stayed there only for the briefest time, then morphed into something that might have been calculation, as if she were weighing her options - to speak of the prince to his brother this way was a dangerous game, at least if one wasn't familiar with Nikolai.

She finally settled on a slight nod, as graceful as it was superficial, "My apologies.", then she cocked an eyebrow, "Tell me, your highness, could this cost me my tongue?"

Cheeky. He smirked, "Only if it's me you're speaking of this way, and even then only because it would be a terrible lie. I'm wonderfully entertaining."

She made a noncommittal sound and looked back at her horses, "Does it run in the family?"

Nikolai felt personally slighted that the giant lump of muscle that was a horse a few meters away from them seemed more interesting to her than he did, but it wasn't like he was going to just back off, "At least give me a chance, it'd be a shame for you to think we're all like that."

"Like what?", she turned her clever eyes back to him and smiled, "You make it sound like I've implied the crown prince is not charming."

"Oh, you haven't. I'm the one implying it.", this seemed to draw out a chuckle from her. Take that, horse. "You're rather good at hiding distaste, I'll give you that."

"Who says I'm not hiding it now?"

"Ouch.", his hand went briefly to his chest in a theatrical display of hurt, "How come you're not nearly as charming to me as you've been to Vasily?"

"Because you don't seem like a jackass. How's that for the capital offence?"

"Personally, I see none, merely a good judge of character."

This time the chuckle she let over her lips was a bit less restrained, and he'd be damned if he didn't take that as a win. Now her eyes slid back to the meadow in front of them, beaten down by horseshoes and boots until it was nothing but mud, and Nikolai watched her watch that same horse she'd been staring at since he'd first spotted her. One could claim it was nothing special if it weren't for its size - he'd be damned if that wasn't the largest horse he'd seen since the army, and probably the roughest-looking.

"Do you have a penchant for the uglier specimen or are you just wondering about his size?"

The girl gave him the dirtiest look he'd been given in a while, "He's not ugly, just old and overworked.", then as if to sound less stern, "But he is a big boy, even for his breed."

Well, that attempt at a joke about his looks fell flat. He wasn't used to that. "How do you know?"

This seemed to be more her tune because she perked up and pointed one long, elegant finger at the horse, "Do you see the way he's walking? And the scars on his flank?", she didn't wait for the answer, he could hear the urgent irritation in her voice, "He's been severely abused - his hind leg has been broken and never set properly, and you rarely see a valuable work animal this scarred from beatings and equipment."

Now Nikolai looked, actually looked, he could see the ridges of old scars crisscrossing his entire body, and something off about the way he ambled around as if to put a distance between himself and the people. "I thought he was a warhorse, that those were battle wounds. Not something his owners would do to him."

He could see her soften a bit when she heard the shock and disgust that laced his tone, her eyes going briefly to him before she looked at the horse again, "Vasily wouldn't even look at him."

"You tried to show him to my brother?"

She frowned at his tone, "I had no choice! My father won't let me buy him, and he's going to be sold for meat if I don't get him before this hell show is over."

"You want to buy him?"

No, actually, this was the dirtiest look he'd received from a woman, "Well, of course. He deserves a peaceful, loving retirement. He's suffered enough."

Now it was Nikolai's turn to look incredulous, "I thought you were letting my brother drag you around like a prized mare because you wanted an actual prized mare."

She sputtered, incredulity lining her features before she finally found her voice, "Excuse me?"

"Not like that --"

"Like what then?"

Nikolai cleared his throat, if only to buy himself time, "Well, this went off the rails fairly quickly."

She turned her entire body towards him now, and he could feel the anger vibrating off her tiny frame in waves, all directed at him, "You were never on the damn rails."

Fair enough. "It says nothing of your character, anyone who listens to his drivel for an entire day should be well-compensated for their emotional trouble."

"I'll need to be well-compensated after this conversation."

"I don't think that old horse will do it though."

She smacked him on the arm. It took Nikolai a second to process what had just happened, as he looked down to his arm where her fist had punched him with all the righteousness of a woman scorned, then back up at her, incredulous once again. "I was joking."

"Try doing it again, but this time make it funny."

When Nikolai didn't answer quickly enough she put her hands on her hips and raised a brow, "Well?"

"Well-- my extensive education in diplomacy tells me I should ease off with the jokes and perhaps try to apologise?"

Her brow somehow went even higher, it made him feel young and squeamish.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you were accompanying my brother for your gain."

"Oh, please, of course I've been advising him on horses because I want something out of him, why else would I listen to him compare me to a mare and act like he'd written me a sonnet."

"He compared you to a horse?"

"An expensive one, so it's fine in his mind.", she let out a shaky breath, the anger still simmering beneath the soft rosy tint that coloured her cheeks. Nikolai couldn't help but stare, taken aback by the simplicity of her intentions, her irritation - she'd been keeping her cool the entire day, nodding prettily whenever his brother said something, offering him her expertise only to have it thrown back in her face because she was not meant to be listened to, only showed off. And she was not a girl that wanted to be showed off or ignored, that much was clear.

"What?"

She turned to look at him, and Nikolai caught himself mid-stare, too absorbed in his thoughts to recognize that he'd been looking at her a bit too long. "Nothing, I'm just impressed."

"With what?"

"You.", he smirked, "I mean you've been suffering under his charms all day, then mine, and at the end of it you're restrained enough to only punch me in the arm?"

She frowned, her eyes sliding to his arm, uncertainty on her features, "Can I get in trouble for that?"

"Oh no, I'm into it."

She raised a brow, and Nikolai couldn't help the smirk that passed across his lips. Then he said, out of nowhere, "Will you come to dine with me?"

"As you said, your brother thinks I'm his prized mare."

That was only half a no, so he thought he might still have some wiggle-room left there, "Well I think you're far prettier than that. At least a good racehorse."

"Saints I want to smack you again."

Nikolai leaned in, his voice conspirational, "Well, yeah, that was kind of the point."

That chuckle again. He noticed that the feathery hair at the back of her neck curled delightfully when she turned to look at the fair and wondered briefly what she might look like when she let her hair down from her ponytail. His thoughts were interrupted when she said, "I can't. My father wants me to keep him amused, so Vasily might buy from him instead of the breeder from the next town over."

Nikolai frowned, "So he sent you out to entertain the creepier of the two princes like a well-trained monkey?"

"You just physically can't say a sentence without petting your own ego, can you?"

"Oh, you're noticing that just now?"

She leaned her forearms on the fence, staring out at the distance, "Are you really surprised? My sister probably knows even more than I do about the horses, but it was never about the knowledge."

Nikolai wished he could tell her he was, but he'd been made all too familiar with how these things worked in court, why his mother had paraded him around so much, with his pretty golden curls and charming smiles.

"Tomorrow then.", he leaned down beside her, "I'll buy all your father's horses if that's what it takes."

Watching her from the side he could just see the tiniest of smirks grace the corner of her lips, "That's an expensive sport you're wanting to try out."

"Well, have I ever told you that I have a lot of money?"

"Silly me, and here I was thinking you were a mere peasant."

"Was it the humility? The rogue charm?"

He'd just turned his head to look at her, a smirk playing on his lips, ready to come up with another joke to try and get another laugh from her when his brother's voice carried over from somewhere behind her, "Brother. I see you've met my advisor.", there was an edge to his voice, even if he was all drunken smiles, "She's pretty isn't she?"

"The prettiest.", Nikolai replied, pleasantly, even if he knew that wasn't quite the most interesting thing about her, "Come to save her from me?"

"Always.", Vasily's eyes went to the girl, and Nikolai realised he'd never asked for her name, "Did he bore you?"

"Not at all.", the mask slipped back onto her face, as empty as it was pretty, not that Vasily would ever notice, "I see he's inherited your charm."

"Yes, but not quite all of it."

Nikolai cast a glance her way and offered a slight smirk, something unspoken about it, an intimate joke, "I shall leave you two alone, I'm sure you've found another horse to bore her with, brother."

Vasily cleared his throat, "See you at dinner, little brother."

As he walked away, he could hear Vasily ask her for the details of their conversation, the jealousy seeping into his voice like poison. Then something about the workhorse they'd been looking at, wondering why she'd ever want that broken halfbreed. Nikolai knew why his brother had raised his voice when saying that, knew those words were meant for him more than her, but he was too tired to care. Tomorrow then. Hell, he might actually get himself some horses of his own tomorrow.

[skylarmoon71]

Leonardo x Reader- Oneshot (TMNT 2014/2016)

So in honor of black history month, I decided to write this Fanfiction. 

As a black woman, it is important to recognize and be proud of who I am. And to all the beautiful black women out there, be proud and thankful for all we’ve achieved. I hope my readers will enjoy this little fiction as much as I liked writing it. There is also a little information about my hometown in this.

Enjoy!! 

"Hey Leo did I leave my.."

"Right here."

Leo was holding your pack of hair ties in his hand. He smiled, and you flushed, taking it with a small thanks.

"You saved my life, I always lose these. Just bought them too." You were so excited for the movie night yesterday that you came right from the store with everything that you shop for that evening. So of course when you got home and couldn't find them, you assumed you left it with the turtles.

"Alright guys quit flirting." Raph buzzed passed, and at that moment you were thankful for your dark skin, because it would be that more embarrassing if Leo could see you blush. Leo brushed off the comment, just shrugging his brother off.

"Don't mind him, he's just mad cause Mikey beat him again in Mario Kart." you giggle, following Leo to the living room.

Easy days like this were nice. Saturdays were what you looked forward to. Friday nights you'd all get together and watch a movie, and Saturdays were reserved for pure relaxation. You moved over taking a seat next to Mikey, and his grin grew wide as he looked at you. You smiled, despite your slight confusion. "Do I have something on my face?" you chuckle.

"Nah brah, it's just your hair." your eyes widened, and you reached over wondering if maybe it was getting unruly again. "Oh crap is it crazy!" you asked, self consciously. You had it loose today, curls falling at the sides. It was puffy and curly at the same time. Almost like a kinky afro. Generally you'd pull your hair back in a high bun, or even a side one. But you couldn't find your ties earlier, and you were really not feeling it to comb through it today.

"Are you kidding! Your hair is amazing, everytime you come it's like in a different style." This time, you were surely blushing. "O-Oh..thank you..." It was no secret that you had untamed hair. You loved it though. Growing up there were people that made you feel a bit insecure about it. Most of the kids at your school had such tamed and straight hair, while you had curly kinky locks. At times it was a challenge styling it, and it did take a while on most days just to get it under control, but it's what made you, you. Your hair was your heritage, your strength.

Leo was watching you from his spot, and he couldn't help but agree with Mikey. It wasn't just your hair that was different, it was everything. He remembered the first time he asked Master Splinter about the differences in humans. He was a kid, probably nine or ten. He didn't know much but what he'd seen Donnie show him when they'd sneak to the surface to peek through the drains.

Looking back he realized just how everyone varied. Hair, skin, eyes. It was so fascinating to him. He loved it all. The diversity, to him it was incredible. As sad as humanity was sometimes, there were occasions that they would surprise him. The world was far from perfect, but there were moments where unity just inspired him to fight harder for the citizens.

You were a clear example of that. Meeting you was not just eye opening but also educational. He'd forever be willing to learn new cultures. So whenever you gave him or his brothers a small history lesson when they questioned something you did or said, he found that he was that more intrigued by you. They'd known you for just a few months, yet it felt like years of friendship. They were still learning more about you, everyday. Now that he thought about it, you weren't born in New York.

"(Y/N), you said you were born in the Caribbean right?"

The way your face spark to life never fails to make his heart pick up.

"That's right, I'm surprised you remembered that. Think I told Mikey the second time we met. He wanted to know why I talked so funny."

"Yeah, what was the name of your country again." Raph questioned from across the room. He was presently doing pull ups on the metal bar.

"Trinidad and Tobago. That's where I was raised, I moved here with my parents four years ago."

"Dude say that thing you did last time." Mikey called excitedly. You rolled your eyes.

"What thing?" Leo asked curiously.

"The way they say what's up is so cool. (Y/N) says it's english but it sounds completely different."

Now Leo really wanted to hear. His sapphire gaze turned on you, and you nibbled on your lip.

"I-It's isn't anything great it's just a greeting."

"I'd like to hear, if you don't mind of course."

You didn't mind at all. Leo was your weakness.

"Wais de scene."

"Seee!! You can't tell me that's english!"

Mikey was jumping up off the chair laughing and now so were you.

"You sounded different too." Leo notes. Your accent was different from the New York drawl he used too. It was nice.

"Can you tell us more." He really did love to learn, and maybe just between him, he kind of liked your native tongue.

~~~~~~

The boys were on patrol, so you figured you'd have more time to yourself. You opted for taking a shower. You'd gotten out a few minutes ago and now you were spraying your hair with olive oil as you ran your fingers through the curls. Your hand shifted to the small container of hair food, dipping in and placing it on your scalp, making sure to get it through the roots. You were glad Leo placed this mirror in his room. You had no idea why though. He didn't seem like the self absorbed type.

"I knew it would come in handy." His voice startled you a little. He closed the door on entry, and you dropped your hands. "H-Hey, I'm sorry I didn't think you guys would be back yet. I wasnt messing with your stuff or anything I just need to use the mirror and yours is so big so I thought why not and I-"

"You don't have to explain yourself, I asked Donnie to set it up here for you." you raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're here a lot, and I know girls like styling their hair. I was hoping I'd finally get to see you actually doing it. I've always been curious about how you get it to look so beautiful."

He really did know what to say to make your heart flutter.

Damn that smooth talker.

"Gosh, are you guys on a mission to embarrass me today, you've been complimenting me since this morning and it isn't even my birthday. " you pulled your hair up into a high bun, reaching for a hair tie to keep it in place.

"Wait!" you froze, looking at him.

"S-Sorry I just...I like the way it looks when you leave it down. It's so puffy, kind of cute..." his words trailed off, and you slowly dropped your hand.

"W-Well I guess if you like it then I don't mind. " you couldn't maintain eye contact, so you turned to the items in front of you. Closing the lids of both hair products, you shift over to the sink you wash your hands from the oily substance. When you were done, you reached for the hand cloth, before you could grab it, Leo was behind you, and his hand rested gently over your palm. Your body stilled, pulse increasing.

"Leo.." it was said with so much uncertainty. You weren't sure how things got to this, heck, you weren't expecting it, but you weren't complaining. His hands ran down your arms slowly. With your back still facing him, there wasn't much you could do but hope your breathing wasn't too labored. You'd spent so long trying to keep your feelings for him under wraps. If nothing but to ensure you didn't risk your friendship. Right now though, friendship was far from your thoughts.

"I wasn't being completely forward earlier, it isn't just your hair that's beautiful. " Your heart gave a thump, and when he urged you around slowly, you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him. "Your hair, skin, eyes, lips.." the last word was said longingly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. "It's a challenge for me sometimes, I envy Mikey's ability to just say what's on his mind. I can barely look at you for too long, otherwise I'm afraid how much harder it'll be for me to hold back." So he was holding back too, geez, and here you thought this attraction was purely one sided.

"What if I..don't want you to hold back Leo.." His blue eyes glimmered, and you swore your knees would buckle just from the intensity of his stare. His hand raised to your cheek, and you released a sigh. How many times did you imagine this scenario in your head. Hundreds? Maybe thousands.

"Then I won't." he closed the space with those three words, and you leaned into it. Leo's arms were secured around your waist as his soft lips covered your own. Your hands gripped at his shoulders, and you tried to keep them from venturing. If they strayed, you weren't sure you'd be able to trust yourself not to grope every inch of his taunt muscular body. The kiss started off slow, innocent even. It was your first one together. You were both trying to savor it. Having longed for this, it felt like a dream.

After a few moments, that tentative demeanor changed to one of dominance and hunger, one that needed to be satisfied. Leo backed you up, not breaking the kiss for even a mere second. Leo's hand around your waist moved to the small of your back, and you gasped when it landed on your butt. He heard the sound, pulling back.

"Should..I..stop.." he forced out between pants. You shook your head, diving back in. Leo groaned, giving your cheek an appreciative squeeze. The action made you open your mouth, and his tongue slipped in. You moaned, and Leo took another step forward, this time he turned, and you let out a soft sound when he fell back in the bed, pulling you with him. He barely seemed affected, taken by the sensations.

You straddled his body, parting to admire his hazed look. Your chest was still heaving, and you wanted nothing more than to join your lips again, but you just liked looking at him. Those azure orbs that were almost penetrating you. His hand ran up your thigh, and he smirked at the way you bit down on your lip.

"Did I mention that I like chocolate?"

You giggle, "I sort of figured it out hotshot." you snark back. You squeaked when he suddenly switched positions. You were now bound to the bed, literally. He pinned both your wrists, that confident smile never leaving.

"I also like being in control." That comment did wild things to your body. You didn't mind at all. He pressed into you, and you whimpered needy. "L-Leo.." you wanted him, needed him now.

"Don't worry, I'd never leave you all hot and bothered, no matter how arousing it is to watch."

"Stop talking and kiss me!"

"So bossy." He taunted.

"Leo!"

He leaned down, giving your neck a soft kiss.

"Save your voice, you're gonna need it."

You gulped, and Leo took your breath away before you could fully think about it.

You were in store for a very...busy night.

[one-true-houselight]

Five Times Stan Wondered How Ford Would Feel, and One Time He Didn't Have To

1982

It was weird, being at his own funeral. Stan had certainly thought about faking his own death before, but he'd never had the time, or the ability. It's not often you get a chance to take over your identical twin's life as a cover story. 

It was the kind of story he would have told Ford to make him laugh when they were kids. The ultimate twin swap. The thought put a lump in his throat as he stared out at the small number of guests. An uncharitable part of him noted that Ford would probably have had more mourners.

A different, desperately scared and guilty part, wondered how Ford would feel if he was here, at his brother's actual funeral. Would he be sad? Would he remember the good times, or would he just see a broken machine, a crumpled bag of toffee peanuts?

Would he even come?

Stan breathed, trying to convince himself he was simply pursuing this train of thought so he could impersonate Ford more effectively. He hoped his performance was more effective than that effort. 

He sat on a bench and reflexively massaged the sides of his hands, where he'd made it look like extra fingers had been removed. To his surprise, Shermie came over and sat next to him. "You doin' ok, Stanford?"

"Yeah," Stan replied, hoping his illusion would hold. "As ok as I can be, I guess."

Shermie put a hand on his shoulder, and Stan kept himself from flinching. People hadn't put their hands on him for much beyond violence in...a while. "I know you and Stanley hadn't seen each other in a while, and it ending like this is probably difficult for you."

Stan shrugged, and thought once again; how would Ford feel right now, if the last time he'd seen Stan had been when he closed the curtain on him all those years ago, and not a brother desperately reaching for him as he disappeared through a swirling portal?

He figured it was wishful thinking when he replied, "I think I was done with anger, at this point. I just wish I had told him how I felt sooner."

1992

Stan was rummaging through the closet when an object fell from between some coats and landed at his feet. He picked it up to find it was a worn, six fingered glove. His first instinct was to drop it, as if it had burned him, but he didn't. He just stared at it for a while, thoughts wandering to the man who once wore it.

He kept holding it as he went back to work, (Stan was never one to stand still for too long), cleaning the gift shop, adjusting an attraction, locking up the earnings, entering the code on the vending machine. As he worked, he wondered what Ford would say if he was here right now. Probably something about scientific integrity, he thought with a snort. '

He wondered if he'd appreciate how he finally figured out a way to make money, if he'd laugh at the times Stan had had to punch something supernatural. It was certainly in character: Ford being the one ready to research and record phenomena, while Stan was the one coming in to punch it, or kick it, or sic a knife-wielding possum on it. They had made a good team. Maybe they still would, if-

No. Thinking like that didn't help, it wouldn't bring him back. To be fair, he didn't know if this would work, as he surveyed the broken portal looming from the darkness. But he had to try. He had to. 

He hoped Ford would be proud of him.

1999

Stan sat straight up in Shermie's kids' living room, fingers tapping wildly. When he'd gotten the call, he had run to the PA to close the gift shop immediately so he could pack. And now, after breaking more traffic laws in a day then he had thought possible, he was here, and he was about to meet-

"Stanford, meet Mason and Mabel." His niece and nephew walked in, each holding a baby. His breath caught in his throat. He had known they were twins, of course, he wasn't an idiot, but now, seeing these two bundles with the same face poking out over blankets, the fact hit him like a train.

"Looks like twins-" run in the family, but he couldn't say that. Shermie had agreed (reluctantly) to not mention Stanley to his family, given the tragic circumstances, so the comment would have been nonsensical to them. So he just smiled at his new great niece and nephew.

"They sure do, Stan. Want to hold them?" Stan's eyes widened slightly and he nodded. The babies were handed to him, one in each arm, and he looked down at them, tears in his eyes. Mabel's eyes locked onto his gold chain and she batted at it, entranced at the light bouncing off of it. Mason had a large birthmark on his head, like a constellation, and seemed fascinated by the tassel on Stan's hat. 

"Hey there. I'm your Great Uncle Stan," he whispered, his words sliding together a little from emotion. 

Their mom chuckled. "Sounded like you said 'Grunkle Stan'. It's usually the kids who give you the nickname."

Stan laughed, startling the babies a little. "You know what, I think I like Grunkle Stan better. 'Great Uncle' makes me feel old."

"Don't tell that to Dad," joked his nephew before standing. "I'll go make some lunch."

Stan made to stand up, but was pushed back into his seat. "You stay with the kids, it's fine."

Stan nodded and looked to the twins' mom, who had fallen into a chair across from him. "How are you holding up?"

She shrugged. "Twins are hard, but they're sleeping better than I expected. If I didn't know better, I'd think they were helping each other sleep."

Stan laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised, these two look smart." Mabel looked up at him and blew a raspberry. Mason sat up, then immediately fell forward into Stan's chest. He looked up and smiled, and Stan absentmindedly tapped his forehead. "Quite a birthmark he's got."

"Yeah. Shermie joked that we should call him 'Dipper'. He said it was like calling you Sixer-" She stopped suddenly, blushing. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, no," said Stan quickly, his hands flitting to the scars on his hands. "I didn't mind that name. It certainly wasn't the worst thing I was called." It flowed easily, saying I. He had been Stanford for 17 years now, after all. 

The conversation moved on, the twins crawling over him as he chatted and laughed with their mother. But his thoughts were elsewhere, pushed to a familiar place by that nickname. He didn't know how Ford felt about having his own kids, but he knew he would have loved to be here, to see these kids. Maybe he could give better advice about Mason. 

Did he and Ford ever comfort each other, before they even knew what those words meant? Stan couldn't remember a time that he wasn't aware of Ford, a time before that night when they weren't by each other's sides. How would Ford react to see another set of Pines twins? As he looked down, he wished they never lost each other the way he and Ford had lost each other. It was the best blessing he could think to give them. 

July 2012

Stan sat in his chair, stunned. That morning, he had followed the sound of excited kids shouting to find that someone had found Ford's old room As he'd walked in, hoping they wouldn't ask him too many questions, he had glanced over and seen them sitting there, as if Ford had left them there minutes before. He had always had a bad habit about his glasses. 

With a look at the kids, who were distracted, he grabbed the glasses and shoved them in a pocket, covering his reeling mind with announcing a competition. He made it through the day, not internalizing much. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure there had been something going on with Dipper and Mabel, but he just hadn't been present enough to figure out what. It seems like they were figuring out whatever it was, so he was just left sitting in the dark, staring at a pair of glasses.

He was so close. Was Ford even alive? He had to be. He had been working on this for thirty years, he had to believe that Ford was out there. What was Ford doing right now? Had he found some nerd school? Stan smiled at that, and tried not to imagine the many, many less attractive options. 

He heard footsteps upstairs, and he contemplated what Ford would have done that day, with the kids. Maybe he would have had a reasoned discussion with the kids, about boundaries and choices. Or maybe he would have seen his own resentment reflected in those kids' eyes, and…

He had spent thirty years as Stanford Pines, and had slowly weaned himself off of trying to act as he thought Ford would. But even if he hadn't, he would have started now. Because if he couldn't stop the curse with him and Ford, he would not pass it down to Dipper and Mabel. He had to believe that siblings were not doomed to fail, he had to believe that he could help these kids out from a shadow they didn't know they were under. 

And even though he didn't believe it, he hoped he could get Ford and him out too, someday. He hoped Ford would want to come. 

August 2012

Ford was here.

Ford was here.

Thirty years of work, and Ford was in the next room, bemoaning what Stan had done to the shack. 

Figures.

"You know, Ford, standing around yelling at the Mystery Shack isn't gonna change anything," he called out. Ford walked into the room, eyebrows furrowed. 

"I still don't understand why you had to take my identity," said Ford. "Wouldn't it have been easier to fake my death?"

I didn't know if it would have been fake He shrugged and replied, "Do you know how many crimes I've committed? It was better that way."

"I can imagine," muttered Ford, with more venom than Stan liked, but no more than he expected. 

"Hey, you know a lot of crimes were to get you back."

Ford snorted at that, but fell quiet for a moment, staring at his own hands. Finally, without looking up, he asked, "How'd you fake the hands, Stanley?"

"Said I cut 'em off." He held up his hands to show the faded scars, and Ford's eyes widened slightly.

"You gave yourself scars?"

"Yeah. I've got enough of them." Stan did not mention that, as much as these scars had hurt, they had paled in comparison to how he had felt watching Ford get pulled away from him. 

Ford stared, almost transfixed, at Stan's hands before abruptly standing up. "I should keep working," he muttered and swept off. 

Stan crossed his arms and muttered, "Man, I thought I had been too grumpy as you." He laid back and sighed. Thirty years he had sat and wondered about how Ford would feel, how he'd react, what he was missing. And here they were, together again, and Stan still didn't know how the man felt. Not really. Yes, the punch had been a good clue as to some of it, but...He didn't know what had happened to Ford out there. He didn't know how it felt to be back. Was he disoriented? Scared? Excited? Overwhelmed? 

Damn it, why wouldn't Ford let him help? How could he not see that Stan still cared about him? How much he missed him?

Maybe because you haven't told him, a voice said. Yeah, well, turn about's fair play, Stanford…

He shook his head. He had 'til the end of summer. He could still fix things. If he could fix an interdimensional portal, he could fix his relationship with his brother, his twin, his best friend…

Right?

September 2012

Stan sat on the porch of the Mystery Shack, watching the sun go down. Ford walked out and sat down next to him. "How are you doing, Stanley?"

"I'm fine. Mind feels good. You?"

"I'm...I'm good." Ford took a breath. "I'm sorry, Stanley." 

Stan looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Didn't we do this already?"

"Not really. I may have apologized for certain events, but...I never told you that I'm grateful, not really. After everything you've lived through, all the things I caused, you gave your life over to bringing me back. You sacrificed your mind to save me, to save the world. And I never, I could never acknowledge before now how good a person you really are."

"You really don't need to do this, Ford, I know how cool I am-"

"No, you don't. Stanley, you think that you have to act like this to make up for something. I let you think you needed to fight for redemption after that science fair, and you've been fighting your whole life, never understanding that you are enough. I just want you to know that people see you, that they know you're a good person. The kids, Soos...me. You deserve to know how I feel." There was a pause as Stan gathered his thoughts, but then he started laughing. Ford furrowed his brows. "I'm not joking, Stanley. You are worthy of love, and-"

"No, no," said Stan, putting a hand on Ford's shoulder. "I...you're right, I don't have the best self esteem, but that's not it. I've spent 30 years wondering how you'd feel, what you'd do. And now, now I finally know." A single tear streaked down his face. "Thank you. I really think I needed to hear that."

Ford pulled him into a hug. "I only wish I could have told you sooner." At that, they both started crying in earnest, and Stan knew he finally knew how his twin felt. 

Like him, he felt love.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Home (Part 1)

Summary: Two years ago, you’d left behind your hometown and the love of your life to pursue your dream career, but returning for Christmas really made you start to second-guess that decision.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: A Christmassy one for ya’ll! This story is inspired by the requests above from @shawnie--jo, thank you for those and for the inspo! I couldn’t fit everything into a oneshot, so this may end up being three or four parts.

---

You stuffed your bag into the overhead locker and collapsed into your seat, completely exhausted.

Some chaos was to be expected when travelling so close to Christmas, but still, you really could've done without the three hour check-in queues and the chorus of screaming babies.

Leaning back in your chair and pulling on your headphones, you squeezed your eyes shut and just tried to think about all the things that would make this journey worth it, all the things you’d missed about Christmas with your parents.

The excitement on their faces as they greet you at the airport, your mother’s incredible home-cooking, your father’s insistence on playing charades three or more times a day. It was your first time visiting home since moving away two years ago, and you wanted the whole cosy, corny nine yards.

There was just one teensy little caveat to your relaxing family holiday- two years away from home meant two years since you'd seen Bucky.

You were childhood sweethearts, head over heels in love with each other for as long as you could remember and best friends for even longer. When you were offered a job across the country, you wanted so much for him to move with you, but he’d already promised his father that he’d take over the family car-repair business. 

It was the most difficult decision of your life, but eventually the two of you agreed there was no choice but to separate. 

Being away from him tore you apart for the first few months, but now you'd finally gotten back on your feet, and you were ready to come face to face with your past again.

Or so you thought.

---

Your parents pulled you into a tight bear-hug as soon as you walked through arrivals, taking your bags, talking your ear off and quickly ushering you to the car.

Amongst all the excited babbling, you just about managed to discern that they’d planned a welcome home party for you that night with half the neighbourhood, an announcement which triggered a mix of dread and excitement to begin churning in your stomach.

You were looking forward to seeing your oldest friend again, you just hoped to god that things wouldn’t be weird or awkward between the two of you.

After a short drive, the car pulled up outside your childhood home. Just seeing it from the outside made you feel all warm and cosy but, as soon as you glanced through the door, those feelings were amplified off the charts. 

The place looked incredible. Your mother had obviously put so much effort into making it look cosy and festive, you even felt yourself tearing up a little when you stepped inside. It was so elaborate, you had half a mind to interrogate her about a possible Christmas with the Kranks scenario going down prior to your arrival, but you decided it was probably best to just keep your mouth shut.

After you’d looked around properly and unpacked, it was only a matter of hours before the first guests started arriving.

You downed two beers to loosen yourself up a little. Each time the bell went, your eyes snapped towards the door, the sound making your heart leap out of your chest. It felt like you were waiting to find out whether that hard mass in the bottom of your stocking was a big-ass diamond or a lump of coal. 

When Bucky finally appeared in the doorway, your jaw almost hit the shag carpet. The last two years had been unreasonably good to him, he looked like James Dean but somehow even more buff. 

The boy you'd left behind had become a man in your absence and sweet Jesus it was really making you feel some kind of way. 

His eyes were frantically scanning the room but he hadn't spotted you yet, so you took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, stranger.’

He swivelled round, his eyes lighting up when they met yours. Before he said a word, you were pulled into a tight hug, audibly gasping when you were lifted clean off the ground.

‘Where the hell you been, Lilypad?’

You burst out laughing, remembering falling into a pond on your seventh birthday and him never, ever letting you live down. A wave of happy memories flooded your mind, making you smile widely as he set you down.

‘Still the same old Yucky.’

‘Hey, we agreed you wouldn't call me that anymore.’

‘I'll stop calling you Yucky when you stop calling me Lilypad.’

The corners of his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘Never.’

And just like that, it felt as though you'd never left.

You were excited to be with your old friend again, you were happy that there seemed to be no awkwardness between the two of you, and you were really doing your very best to suppress all the other intense feelings that had surfaced as soon as he’d walked through the door.

‘Come on, I'll get you a drink.’ You grabbed his arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge while he leant against the counter next to you. ‘Are you still working for your dad?’

‘Yep. He's hoping to retire in the next few years, so I'll finally be taking over.’

‘That's so great, you're pretty much set for life with that place.’

He nodded faintly, burying his hands in his pockets and flicking his gaze down to the floor. ‘So how, uh- how long are you back for?’

‘I'm flying back early on the 31st.’

‘You’re not even staying for New Year?’ The hint of disappointment in his voice made you immediately stop what you were doing and look over to him, his face going a little red as he shifted around awkwardly. ‘Ah, I bet you got loads of invites to big, crazy city parties.’

‘If you call staring at a computer screen until 3am and slowly spiralling into madness a party.’

You passed him a beer, his eyes staying fixed on the bottle as he mumbled. ‘All the work will be worth it one day though, right?’

‘I hope so.’

Your eyes locked, a heavy silence falling between you. This was exactly the kind of uncomfortable atmosphere you were dreading.

Panicking a little, you vaguely gestured towards the living room. ‘I should probably, y’know, mingle.’

‘Sure. I'll find you later though Lilypad, we gotta catch up some more.’

You gave him a warm smile and nodded, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

The next couple of hours seemed to blur together. You made meaningless small-talk with people you barely knew, all the time just thinking about Bucky, about how quickly things had gone from fun and light-hearted to incredibly tense.

You just hoped you could get things back on a good track before you had to leave, losing him completely was the very last thing you wanted.  

Shuffling into the kitchen to grab yourself another drink, you noticed him duck out the back door. He must've hit his socialisation limit. The two of you used to reach that point around the same time at parties, so you'd slink out together and share a cheap cigarette.

Abandoning your freshly opened beer on the counter, you followed him out, finding him tucked away around the side of the house.

‘Right on time.’

His head snapped towards you, the cigarette almost falling from his mouth as he shot you a wide smile. ‘Am I that predictable?’

‘I just know you too well.’

You leant against the wall next to him, hugging your arms tight as you felt yourself start to shiver, cause you were the kind of idiot that went outside in December wearing short-sleeves. Bucky noticed straight away, letting out a gruff chuckle as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it round you.

‘That cushy city life has made you soft.’ He rubbed your arms a little, trying to warm you up, before eventually bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders and fixing his gaze to yours. ‘I'm really glad you're here, Lilypad. I've missed you.’

‘I've missed you too, Buck. I've missed a lot of things about this place.’

‘So why don’t you stay longer?’

‘Believe me, I was lucky to get this much time off.’

His eyes narrowed slightly, a concerned frown spreading over his face as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘Is everything alright? I haven't heard much about this job but so far it's pretty much been all negative.’

‘Oh, I do love it, honestly I-’

‘Why would you even try lying to me? You know I can always tell.’

You couldn’t help cracking a slight smile at his smug expression. He was right, the last time you’d managed to successfully lie to him was in first grade when you told him you didn’t know where his crayon sharpener had gone, knowing full well it was stashed in your pocket.

‘It's just a lot.’ You rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. ‘Apart from the few hours of sleep I get each night, I'm pretty much constantly working. You asked earlier if it was worth it and, to be honest, I really don’t know.’

He nodded faintly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, before opening his arms towards you.

‘C'mere.’

You didn't hesitate. Launching yourself towards him, you let him enclose you, squeezing your eyes shut and wrapping your arms around his neck.

‘You'll figure it out.’ He mumbled into your neck. ‘You always do.’

‘Thank you, Buck.’

After a minute or so, you both pulled away slightly, stopping when you came face to face. A lot of things about home had slipped your mind whilst you’d been away, but you’d never forgotten how gazing into Bucky’s piercing blue eyes made you feel. 

That feeling had never changed, and you were sure it never would.

You dropped your hands to rest on his shoulders, your eyebrows shooting up when you noticed how rock-hard they were. ‘Jesus, Buck. I’ve only been gone for two years, have you been at the gym that whole time?’

‘Nope, just been working hard at the garage.’ What absolute bullshit. ‘But feel free to keep the compliments coming.’

You smirked and feebly shoved him away, turning to head back inside but stopping suddenly before taking a step. ‘Oh, you better pick that cigarette butt up or my mom will go ape shit.’

‘Good call.’

You slipped through the back door, passing his jacket back when he followed you in. The two of you couldn’t have been out there for more than a few minutes, but it seemed as though the crowd inside had really started thinning out.

Bucky’s parents strolled over when they spotted him, informing him of their intent to leave pretty soon too, so he gave you a long hug goodbye and made you promise that you'd see each other again before the end of the holidays.

The two of you had parted on a good note, which was all you’d wanted going into the party, but now you found that you were pretty keen to squeeze as many more good notes out of these next few days as you could. 

It was probably best not to delve too deeply into the feelings behind that sentiment. So you didn’t. 

You helped your parents tidy up, your eyelids drooping as the exhaustion from a long day of travelling and socialising finally set in. Just as you were about to head upstairs, your mother piped up, using her expertly crafted trying to appear casual despite being really very invested in what I’m asking tone.

‘It must've been nice seeing Bucky again.’

‘Oh yeah, definitely.’

‘He must've changed quite a bit since you were here last.’

You chuckled to yourself. ‘Physically, yeah, but he's still the same goofy dumbass he's always been.’

‘It's always a treat when he pops round, he's such a nice boy.’ A suspicious eyebrow crept up your forehead. ‘And he's still single y'know, he hasn't-’

‘Alright. That's my cue to go to bed.’

Your dad strolled over and gave you a firm pat on the back. ‘Good idea, sweetheart. Get out while you still can.’

‘Thank you. It's nice having one sane parent.’

‘Although, I do have to say, he has been very good to us since-’

‘Dad!’ He raised his arms in surrender, using one hand to zip up his mouth. ‘Lord help me. Goodnight, crazies.’

You quickly escaped up the stairs. Stumbling into your room and pulling on your pyjamas, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows and letting out a long, exhausted sign.

As you drifted off to sleep, all the stress of the day melted away, leaving a single thought to echo around your mind.

You’d really overestimated how over Bucky you were.

---

Part 2

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