#Putting more green in my hair and avoiding cleaning the inside of the oven today. Amongst a stupid number of tasks I put off yesterday

[satans-knitwear]

Front and back ✨

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[bonkie-barnes]

Apartment 3C

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: brief mentions of injuries 

A/N: does the dog die.com.....yes, i am sorry. enemies to lovers kinda?? idk she’s mean to you until she’s not. i try to keep it gender neutral, but if you see something that isn’t please let me know! i hope you enjoy!

- - -

The first time you ever saw her enter apartment 3C was when she was moving boxes from the hall into the room. She had the most beautiful red hair and green eyes that made you lose your breath the instant she made eye contact with you.

The woman looks down at your hand then back up at your face, confused and suspicious. She simply nods before picking up one last box and entering her apartment. You stand there in the hallway for another minute before shaking yourself off and going back to your own home, your thoughts on the green eyes of the woman whose name you don’t know for the rest of the night.

You walk over to introduce yourself to her, sticking your hand out for her to shake.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, your neighbor in 3D,” you say, gesturing to the apartment across the hall with a shake of your head.

- - -

The next time you saw the mysterious woman of apartment 3C was on your way to the laundry room in the basement of the building. She was just locking her own door when she looked up and made eye contact with you. You gave her a small smile and she simply rolled her eyes at you.

As you both climb down the stairs, the woman trying hard to ignore your presence, you try to come up with a topic of conversation.

“So, nice day we’re having. Good weather,” is what you finally come up with. You mentally smack yourself for being so dull.

She looks at you with an annoyed look in her eyes and a smirk on her face.

“Really? You’re resorting to weather talk?”

“Well, you’re not that easy to approach. I’m not sure what to talk to you about,” you finally manage to get out after a minute.

“You ever think maybe I don’t want to talk to you?” she asks.

“Oh.”

She leaves you standing alone in the stairwell, wondering what you did to offend her so badly.

- - -

It’s about eight at night when your dog starts barking from the living room. You look up from your book to the smell of smoke. The lasagna you were making was currently in the oven, but you were sure you set the timer.

As you walk out of your room, the smell of smoke only gets stronger. It takes you checking your oven and the sight of your dog barking at the door to realize the smell is coming from outside your apartment.

You open the door and struggle to keep Smokey, your dog, in the room as you peek your head into the hallway. The smoke is coming from 3C. You’ve managed to avoid the woman inside since the stairway fiasco a week ago. As embarrassed as you are, you figure you should probably go check on her.

She opens the door a minute after your knocks sound, looking out of her element. Instantly you notice the smoke coming out of her own oven. She is definitely not a chef by any means, you realize with a smirk.

“Are you okay in here?” you ask her softly.

“Does it look like it?” she responds with an edge to her voice.

“Do you need some help?”

She simply rolls her eyes and shakes her head. You’re about to respond when her phone rings. She picks it up with a firm “Natasha” before closing her door on you. At least now you know her name.

When you get back into your own home, you come up with an idea. You take half of your now-cooked lasagna and put it in a tupperware container. You attach a little note before running it over to Natasha’s doorstep. You knock and try to hurry back to your apartment before being detected.

Smokey, however, has other plans for you. He manages to sneak out into the hallway and over to the container of food.

"Smokey, no!" you exclaim as Natasha opens her door, no longer on the phone.

You quickly run over to grab his collar and usher him back to your home, muttering apologies the whole way. You quickly sneak inside your apartment before Natasha can say something about the food.

What you don’t see is the small smile Natasha gives as she reads the note.

- - -

The next time you see Natasha leave apartment 3C is drastically different. The rainy weather is reflective of your current mood. You're on your way up the stairs having just come back from the veterinarian, empty collar in your hand.

Natasha notices you from her doorway and lets a small smile go before it drops into a frown. There's a somber air about you and she'd be lying to herself if she said she weren't concerned. She has to keep up her mean girl act, though, because she doesn't want you to know you're growing on her.

"Well don't you look like shit. Who peed in your cheerios this morning?" she asks you snidely.

You stumble a bit, not expecting Natasha to even speak to you. You don't even look up at her before mumbling a quiet "Not today, Natasha".

Her heart breaks at the sadness in your expression and it breaks even more at the sight of the collar in your grasp. She's seen you walking around the city with Smokey a few times and knows how much you love him.

"Wait, hey, are you alright?"

You look up, surprised at the fact that Natasha is speaking to you in a kind manner. You don't fail to notice the concerned look in her eyes. Still, you're convinced she doesn't like you.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you sigh, not wanting to get into it with her.

"Where's Smokey?" she asks softly.

You break out into sobs. Natasha reaches a hand out to you, but you're across the hall and into your apartment before she can come up with something to say.

This time it's you who is receiving a knock on the door with no one around to claim it. There's a mug of steaming tea and a note at your feet.

In neat, loopy writing you see:

I'm really sorry about Smokey. This will help with your throat <3

You crack a slight smile for the first time that day.

- - -

It's dark when you're startled out of your sleep. You could have sworn you heard something, but there is nothing but silence now. The clock jarringly flashes 3:35 at you.

Then you hear it again. There's someone knocking at your door, you realize.

Rushing out of bed, you trip on the sheets before regaining your footing. You enter the living room and turn on the lamp in the corner, covering the room in a soft glow. You inch the door open slowly, before throwing it open the rest of the way upon realizing the late night visitor is Natasha.

She's covered in cuts and bruises, and she's nursing her right wrist. Your eyes widen at the stain of blood on her shirt.

"Natasha, oh my god," you gasp, as you usher her into your apartment. You guide her to the couch and she groans as she plops down.

You rush to the bathroom to get some medical supplies and hurry back to her. She has her eyes closed, and if the blood and dirt weren't there, you'd think she looked almost at peace.

"What happened to you?" you ask softly, as you start wetting a washcloth with rubbing alcohol.

"Ah, this is nothing. You should see the other guy," Natasha says with a smirk. You can see just how tired she is, though. "I'd do it myself, but I think I’ve sprained my wrist.

You simply nod and get to work cleaning up her cuts. Both of you are silent, minus her small hisses of pain, until you finished taping up the last bandage.

"So, are you going to tell me why you came over at three A.M. looking like you just got mugged?"

Natasha sighs and plays with her hands. "I couldn't patch it up myself, as I already mentioned, and I trust you," she utters softly.

"I thought you hated me," you blurt out.

"What? No!" she exclaims, her eyes widening. "Okay, I can see why you'd think that."

"Why are you so mean to me, then?" you ask quietly, without looking in her direction.

"I’m scared," she says bluntly.

You look at her in complete confusion.

"You're so sweet all the time, and I was scared to talk to you in fear of you seeing just how opposite I am," she finally mutters.

You look at her softly. "Nat, you're not as bad as you think you are."

She scoffs. "I treated you like shit when all you've ever been is nice. I'm not just bad, I'm cruel."

"As you said, you were scared. You just need to stop being so hard on yourself all the time," you say, grabbing her hands in yours.

"Can you ever forgive me?" she asks hopefully.

"Take me out to get coffee and we can start over," you say.

She smiles and says, "Deal."

- - -

You knock on the door, just under the rusted 3C. You subconsciously smooth down your shirt, hoping to get rid of the nonexistent wrinkles.

You've been dating Natasha for four months now, but she still makes you just as nervous.

You're taken out of your thoughts by the sound of her door opening. Standing in front of you is the most stunning woman you've ever seen. She's in simple jeans and a shirt, but she still takes your breath away.

"Hi, love," she chuckles, as you struggle to find words.

"Hi, you're absolutely gorgeous," you finally stutter out.

"Shut up," she says through a smile, a light blush coating her cheeks.

"You ready for our date?"

"Absolutely." She turns around to lock her door.

You take her hand and interlock your fingers as you both start down the stairs. You've never been happier, you think.

- - -

The last time you see Natasha exit apartment 3C is a hot day in July.

The apartment has been cleared out, nothing but a box at the doorway left.

"It's sort of bittersweet, isn't it?" you ask, wiping the sweat from your brow.

"Sort of. I have better memories in your apartment, though," Natasha says.

"Our apartment," you correct her with a gleaming smile on your face.

"You just had to ask me in the middle of July, didn't you?" she teases. "I'm sweating bullets over here."

"I just couldn't wait any longer, sorry babe," you respond, leaning your head on her shoulder.

"C'mon, one more box then we officially live together."

Natasha bends down to pick up the box.

"Last one there's a rotten egg," you yell as you sprint across the hall.

"It's funny you think you can outrun me, baby," Natasha yells, hot on your heels.

[galli-writes]

(Click here to read on Ao3!)

fandom: Teen Titans

pairing: BBRae

genre/warnings: AU - Canon Divergence; Implied/Referenced Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions of Violence

additional tags: Angst, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions

summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21….and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like…a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he’ll ever need.

a/n: Hello! I am bad at updating. Please forgive my sins.

Chapter 6: The Invitation (words 5,129)

The TV buzzed in the background, images flashing against the rising sun. Beast Boy stared at the screen without really looking at it as he poured some orange juice into a glass at the kitchen counter. His hand shook ever so slightly as he took a sip, and he tried to convince himself it was purely from a lack of sleep. But he knew that was only part of the problem at best. As he looked around the room, he locked eyes with the eerie monkey statue, still on display, and put his glass down with a hard swallow.

Beast Boy never brought up Galtry. Raven hadn’t mentioned him either, though that was probably less intentional. Even so, with each day that passed, his conviction only grew stronger. It had to have been Galtry. It just made sense. Didn’t it?

Beast Boy set his glass back down on the counter--and it was a good thing too, because if he had still been holding onto it when the doorbell rang, it definitely would have shattered on the floor.

Everything in the room went still for a moment. At the other end of the counter, Robin suddenly looked up from his phone, finishing off a bite of french toast. Cyborg had turned away from the TV, looking toward the door and then down at a screen on his arm in mild confusion.

“Uh...Well damn.”

“What is it?” Robin asked, already starting to get up to answer the door.

“I’m looking at the cam now,” Cyborg continued. “Whoever that was, they sure left in a hell of a hurry.”

Beast Boy tried to turn his attention to the TV again, and was able to do so with some effort. Above him, men and women wearing either red or blue aprons dashed around a kitchen at full speed. Pumpkins and fall leaves decorated the scene. A smiling scarecrow was pegged in the corner next to one woman’s prep station. At that moment, the host was asking a contestant about her pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls, which were already in the oven. It wasn’t the most creative approach to the challenge, but it was only the first round. So playing it safe was still acceptable.

Then the screen cut to commercial. Beast Boy looked back down at the counter, suddenly shoved back into reality. A reality that became all the more treacherous when he heard Robin returning--and heading his direction.

“Who was it?” Cyborg asked casually, turning back to the TV.

“I’m...not sure,” Robin said slowly. “But they left this. Beast Boy--”

“Huh?” Beast Boy nearly jumped, feeling Robin next to him now.

“It’s...for you.”

“Me? ”

Robin handed him a small card, which he took willingly despite himself. His name was unmistakably clear on the front flap. Well, not his name, but the name of someone he knew was supposed to be him. Galtry’s name wasn’t present, but it was clearly his handwriting--an elegant cursive Beast Boy had regrettably memorized by now. Even so, he had to squint to make out the words on the front of the card. He flipped it over. In slightly more legible text, there was a time and address. The lack of a date could only imply today.

“Any idea what it is?” Robin asked.

Beast Boy knew his curiosity was well warranted, but he froze under Robin’s expectant gaze.

“I mean....it kinda looks like an invitation or something,” Beast Boy said, trying to avoid eye contact. “But I’m not sure how we’re supposed to RSVP.” He managed a small, unconvincing laugh.

“Do you know who it’s from?” Robin continued, in the same awfully unassuming tone.

“No.” Beast Boy shrugged, pocketing the card. “I don’t.”

And that wasn’t technically a lie.

***

The forecast for the night showed more rain—this time enough to warrant a flood watch. Residents of certain parts of the city were advised to stay inside and avoid driving altogether.  Unfortunately, this didn’t apply to the restaurant they were to meet Galtry at. Of course it had been decided that Beast Boy wouldn’t be going alone, and for that he was grateful. In truth, he didn’t really want to go at all. But given the circumstances, Robin had decided the matter was ‘probably worth looking into.’ And Beast Boy knew better than to disagree.

In his room, Beast Boy knelt before a pile of clothes, rummaging through them without a clear goal. He didn’t know what he was going to wear--what he was supposed to wear for something like this. Probably something pretty nice if he was going off of Galtry’s handwriting alone.

Eventually, he came to the decision that the clothes on the floor were too wrinkled anyway. And when he couldn’t find anything reasonable in the closet, he turned to the dresser in desperation. He barely kept any clothes in there, but there had to be something . He yanked open the bottom drawer with some effort, finding nothing but a collection of mismatched socks, useless knick knacks--and a picture frame he’d intended to keep buried.

The picture was of course the same as it had been the last time he’d seen it. His own dark, disheveled hair contrasting with his mother’s blond waves. His father’s tight smile and focused gaze. When he was younger, people had always told him he ‘had his father’s eyes’. So dark they were nearly black. Beast Boy caught a flash of his reflection in the glass frame. His eyes were still quite dark, but in the light they betrayed a subtle green glint.

He frowned. With a new sense of purpose, Beast Boy got up, the frame tight in his grip as he turned his back on the mess surrounding him.

In the common room, he quickly found a small box of trinkets with ample space to house the frame. Using some discarded bubble wrap, he neatly repacked the picture, tucking it away next to some old books. Beast Boy glanced around the room, searching for something he could use to seal the box up for good. With a few carelessly ripped off pieces of packing tape, he folded the box shut and shoved it back with the rest of them.

And immediately afterward, a stream of guilt flooded over him.

One curse at a time, he ripped off more and more tape to finish off the rest of the packages before he changed his mind. With some effort, he pushed them into a neat pile at one end of the room. He would have to ask Dr. Galtry—whoever he was—to come have them picked up as soon as possible.

“What’re you doing?”

Beast Boy jumped slightly, taken off guard by the sound of someone’s voice. He took a breath to steady himself and turned around.

It was only Raven.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Just...cleaning.”

Raven simply raised an eyebrow in uninterested disbelief. She was standing next to the fridge with a can of ginger ale in one hand and a hefty book in the other. Neither of those things were particularly remarkable for Raven.

But what was strange was the way she was dressed. Opposed to her usual baggy sweaters and leggings, she was wearing jeans and a cardigan over a blouse he’d never seen before. It even looked like she might be wearing makeup. Real makeup that had clearly taken more effort than her everyday eyeliner.

“So I guess you heard about dinner tonight, right?” he asked only now realizing he was staring.  

“Yeah. Sucks for you guys,” Raven said plainly, taking a sip of her soda.

“What do you mean?” Beast Boy said, genuinely puzzled for a moment. “You ’re not coming with us?”

“I have...plans.”  

Beast Boy eyed the book in her hand. “Sitting in your room reading doesn’t count as plans.”

“ Real plans,” she said defiantly, tossing the now empty can in the recycling.

“Well you’ll have to reschedule,” another voice said suddenly, short and stern.

Beast Boy and Raven both turned around to find the rest of their friends approaching from the nearest hallway, Robin at the lead.

“I can’t,” Raven replied, her tone just as sharp and uncompromising.

But Robin didn’t budge. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, arms crossed against his chest. “But this is official Titans business, and you know what takes precedence. That’s all I’m gonna say about it.”

Raven frowned, but she didn’t put her book down. She merely stuffed it into her purse, which was much too small to properly contain it.

“Uh...car’s all ready out back,” Cyborg said, gesturing to the garage with some hesitation.

Raven sulked past them without a word, not even bothering to try and call shotgun.

The drive was awkward and uncomfortable. At least for Beast Boy.

At some point he realized Starfire was talking to him about the latest Netflix series she’d been binging. It was a clear effort to distract from the all consuming depressive aura of the back row. Beast Boy nodded at the appropriate moments, but couldn’t even remember the name of the show two minutes into the conversation.  

Raven didn’t look up from her book once during the entire trip. But it was obvious she was only pretending. Beast Boy couldn’t help but notice that she never once turned the page--and Raven was a fast reader. He didn’t mean to notice the slip of paper tucked between the pages--didn’t mean to see what was scribbled on it. The messy, half-cursive script was almost illegible, but it was clearly a reminder of some sort. A date, a place, a time--the last of which was circled aggressively in dark ink.  Beast Boy made a conscious effort to try and stare straight ahead. He didn’t want to be caught staring again. But of course, it was hard not to notice things like that when you were sitting right next to someone.

What plans did Raven have? ...Not that it mattered to him, of course. Whatever Raven did in her free time wasn’t any of his business, really. Even still, it was hard not to wonder what could be important enough to pull the world’s biggest introvert out of her room. In an actual put-together outfit no less. Then, for a brief moment, a disarming thought flitted through his mind. Hypothetically, in a world where Raven actually dated people, it would probably be safe to assume that she would never tell any of them about it. And why should she? But more importantly why should any of them care ? He didn’t.

Of course, the thought was utter nonsense to begin with. Raven had always made it abundantly clear that she had no interest in being in a relationship. Unless of course she’s been lying.  

Beast Boy began to feel a pit forming in his stomach for the millionth time that week. Just letting his mind wander as far as it had made him feel guilty--like he was prying into things that were none of his business. He tried to shift his train of thought to something-- anything --else beyond the uncomfortable terrain he’d stumbled into. And he didn’t know why it was so uncomfortable. Maybe it was because now he couldn’t stop thinking about the state of his own love life. At least Raven had the angsty brooding down pat. Any time he felt bad for himself--which was a little too often for his liking--he imagined he looked less like the lead singer of a pop punk band and more like a toddler who’d spilled their cheerios in the backseat of mom’s minivan. Right now he would have leaned up against the window and stared into the coming downpour like someone in an early 2000s music video...had he not been stuck in the middle seat again.

As they drove, Robin talked briefly of a ‘plan’ he’d been constructing in the event that things went south. Starfire and Cyborg seemed engaged enough, hyping themselves up for what they’d decided was going to either be a five star meal or an equally satisfying smackdown. But Beast Boy couldn’t find it in him to join them. Outside, the rain was picking up fast. The gray clouds above had brought on the night of their own accord, and even the thousands of city lights couldn’t entirely pierce through the darkness. Beast Boy slunk down further in his seat, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. In doing so, he realized abruptly that he had never actually changed clothes, and a familiar card was still tucked away in his pocket. Unfortunately, no amount of fiddling would make it disappear.

It was easy to recognize when they’d arrived at their destination. The traffic came to a complete stop, as cars—and even a limo or two—fought for a spot on the narrow strip of asphalt in front of the shimmering building before them. People poured out of the vehicles like liquid gold, as men in suits and women with designer handbags scrambled for the attention of the underpaid valet workers.

“Well this looks like...fun,” Cyborg said, hands gripping the wheel tighter, despite the utter standstill.

“I think we might be a little under dressed,” Robin said, peeking out the window and then down at his jeans and flannel. He sounded much less like a boy about to embarrass his family at the yacht club and much more like a detective who was going to blow his cover.

“Well I guess it’s too late for that now,” Cyborg said, automatically pulling up in line next to a man dressed in valet attire weilding a crisp black umbrella.

“Good evening, sir. May I have the name of your party?”

“Uh...” Cyborg hesitated.

Without thinking, Beast Boy reached for the card in his pocket. In a matter of seconds it had acquired some impressively deep folds and a slight tear in one corner, but it was still easily readable and recognizable. He leaned forward and silently passed it to the man like he’d been rehearsing the action for months.

The man’s eyes widened instantly. “Oh, of course. Dr. Galtry has been expecting you.”

A brief moment of silence hung in the air between them as Cyborg continued to grip the wheel.

Beast Boy stared straight ahead. The tension was palpable. For everyone else, the sound of Galtry’s name must have conjured some form of excitement. Good or bad. Some sense of progress in unearthing a mystery. For Beast Boy it only stirred up the guilt surrounding how much he’d withheld.

“If you would—“ the man said, clearing his throat slightly. He nodded toward the driver’s seat as he spoke. “I would be happy to take care of your vehicle.”

“I...uh,” Cyborg hesitated again, his hands gripping the steering wheel even tighter.

“That would be great, thanks,” Robin interjected from the other side. Cyborg shot him a quick look of doubt, but it was quickly followed by a sigh of resignation as he let go of the wheel.

From the safety of the covered curb, Beast Boy watched with his friends as the man stepped into the driver’s seat and fumbled for a moment with the controls.

“Be safe, baby,” Cyborg half whispered as the car disappeared into the fray. And despite all of the nerves clouding his mind, Beast Boy couldn’t help holding back a smile, patting his friend on the shoulder in consolation.

The inside of the restaurant was just as extravagant as the exterior suggested, even more so as the former had certainly been dulled by the weather. Immediately upon entering through the crystal double doors, Beast Boy found himself brushing shoulders with men and women who looked like attendees of a red carpet after party. The entire building—which was completely packed beyond any sense of personal space—was littered with dark wooden tables, velvet curtains, and chandeliers. Light bounced around the room off silver plates and platters carried around by elegantly dressed waitstaff. Even from the distance of the foyer, the scene was simultaneously beautiful and nauseating.

“The party for Dr. Galtry?” A young woman’s voice rang out from behind a tall podium in the corner of the entryway. “We have you in our private dining--” the woman started, pausing as she looked up to meet the group before her. Her eyes grew wide and a clearly unscripted smile came across her face. She had to be in her late teens or early twenties--and was one of the youngest people in the room.

“Sorry,” she said, the smile still on her face. Her brilliant emerald jewelry sparkled as she began to move. “Um...If you’ll just follow me right this way.”

Weaving through the tables turned out to be even more dizzying than just looking at them. And with every step, Beast Boy felt more and more like he was walking straight back into the cave of a hungry beast hoarding its jewels. When they finally came to a halt, it was in front of a large wooden door at the back end of the restaurant. Like the den of a sleeping dragon, this area of the restaurant boasted an even greater number of precious gems and wrinkle lines.

“Dr. Galtry will be waiting for you all inside,” the young woman said, nodding her head slightly.

An awkward beat of silence passed as she continued to stand there without turning to leave, her eyes darting down to her feet.

“Sorry, I know this is like, super unprofessional, and I know you guys are busy, but I was just wondering...if I could maybe get an autograph?” she said quietly, the words spilling out a million miles an hour. She was looking up now, and despite referring to the entire group, it was clear her attention rested on Starfire.

“Certainly!” Starfire smiled.

As if by magic, a small receipt notepad and chewed up pen had already appeared in the young woman’s hands.

“I love your bracelet by the way,” Starfire beamed, taking the pad of paper and beginning to doodle on it.

“Oh, this?” the girl laughed nervously. “Thanks. I mean, it’s nothing really.”

Starfire handed the paper back with a smile, the pad now feverishly adorned with hearts and stars surrounding her signature.

The young woman seemed to be beside herself with joy. She managed another clumsy string of thank yous before disappearing into the crowd again.

There was another long silence.

“I hate it here,” Raven said abruptly, shattering any lingering sentiments of the preceding interaction.

The look on Starfire’s face was more than enough of a response.

“I’m not talking about the girl,” Raven huffed.

Beast Boy looked around. It was true. The suspicious glares were more than enough to tell that the rest of the diners weren’t fans. Maybe coming here had been a mistake.

“Is it really--? Oh, yes, finally!”

Beast Boy blinked hard, a smooth but animated voice bringing him back into the room.

“I’m so glad that you all agreed to meet me here,” a man said, approaching them eagerly.

Suddenly everything seemed to blur. The motion of the restaurant became nothing more than a swirling backdrop of light. For the third time that night, Beast Boy caught himself staring. He looked just like his picture. Too perfect to be real--and yet there he was. Black hair, dark eyes, perfect smiling complexion. The only indicator of his age was the shadow of graying stubble around his chin--and even that looked somehow manicured and intentional. But he walked and talked and was standing right before them just like any other human being. It felt like being in a dream. Or a nightmare.  

“I’m so sorry. I had to step outside to make a phone call,” the man continued. “Galtry. Dr. Nicholas Galtry,” he said, proceeding to shake each of their hands with an unprecedented force. “Really, it is an honor meeting the rest of you.”

“The...rest of us?” Robin asked, wiping his palm on his pant leg.

The man stopped short, a look of pure bewilderment washing over his face. “Oh...don’t tell me you didn’t get my letter?” As he spoke, he turned to look at Beast Boy directly.

“So you’re the letter guy?” Cyborg said, with a somewhat forced laugh.

“I had hoped Garfield might at least mention my name,” Galtry said, slowly.

For a moment, Beast Boy felt the same sense of crippling guilt returning, coupled with the discomfort of hearing his ‘name’ spoken aloud by someone he didn’t know. Or didn’t know well . He was still deciding.

“Well, I’m sure you all must be tired, called out like this on such short notice,” Galtry continued. “Again, all of my apologies, but I just couldn’t wait any longer to speak to you. Here, let’s go inside, shall we?”

The private dining room certainly was private. Almost to the point of being soundproof, which Beast Boy found to be more of a concern than a comfort. Robin automatically sat the closest to Galtry, which was unsurprising but still a relief. Beat Boy opted for a spot in the middle of the long table, where he reasoned he would be least likely to garner extra attention from their host.

Just then, the door swung open again, and another member of the wait staff entered to pour water into the intricate crystal glasses before them. He then proceeded to take drink orders—a cherry coke for Beast Boy and pinot grigio for Dr. Galtry.

“So,” Galtry said, swirling his wine like he was on the cover of a food magazine. “I understand you all have been on Arsenal’s trail for some time now.”

The room went still. Until, of course, Robin eventually broke the silence.

“Arsenal?”

The question would have sounded redundant on anyone else’s lips. But Robin said it with such confidence that it was Galtry who looked embarrassed.

“Oh. Of course. I’m sorry. I had assumed you were familiar with them.”

As one waiter exited, two more replaced him, setting various cutting boards piled high with expensive cheeses and sausages down the center of the table. Galtry sliced a piece of smooth white cheese off the cutting board, spreading it on a piece of toast without even looking down. “They’ve been causing me trouble ever since I first got here.”

“You sound like you know ‘em,” Cyborg said, his eyes resting on Galtry as he skewered his own kebab of sausage rounds.

“Unfortunately,” Galtry grumbled, mostly to himself. “They’ve been after some research of mine for some time now. I don’t pretend to know why. I’m not sure they would even know what to do with it if they were to get a hold of it.”

“What exactly are you researching?” Robin asked tentatively.

Galtry looked up at him suddenly, an expression akin to embarrassment flashing once more across his face. He was clearly not the type of man accustomed to having to introduce himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, aren’t I?” he cleared his throat. “I haven’t even properly introduced myself. That’s what happens when you frequent limited social circles your entire adult life,” he said with a short laugh. “Right now I hold a position as Research Chair for the department of Genomics at the University of Pretoria. I primarily conduct research regarding the development of new gene therapy technologies.”

“Why would the genes need therapy?” Starfire asked, already on her second round of charcuterie.  

Galtry fought back a bemused smile. “It’s not literal. Though that would be something, wouldn’t it? It’s a type of medical procedure,” he explained. “The sort of thing that would help us treat genetic disorders like cystic fibrosis or even reverse the production of cancer cells. The details are a bit...complicated,” he said thoughtfully, looking into his glass.

“As for my being here in Jump City, I admit it’s a bit of a surprise even to me. The U.S. Northeastern Scientific Board regularly invites me to present my work at their annual symposium, which is usually held in Gotham. But I understand there’s been somewhat of a crime spike there recently. And criminals do love the smell of science they don’t understand,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“You’ll have to excuse me for being so blunt,” Robin interjected. “But what does this have to do with us exactly?”

“Well that's a simple question with a rather complicated answer,” Galtry said, a slight frown coming across his face. “The less complicated aspect has to do with Arsenal themself. When I learned that they had found some opposition after following me to the states, I knew I would have to meet with whoever was tracking them. Lucky for me it turns out you all are pretty famous around here.”

“Well I wouldn’t say famous ,” Cyborg said, barely pulling off airs of humility.  

The doors swung open a third time as if on cue, this time letting loose a small string of waiters, each steering a cart laden with different shapes and sizes of covered plates. One was placed in front of each person at the table with expert precision and lifted dramatically to reveal the contents. Beast Boy was more than surprised to find that his dish was completely different than everyone else’s—stuffed mushrooms that looked like they’d been specially prepared. He didn’t remember mentioning that he was a vegan, and had the harrowing thought that maybe he had reached a stage where people knew without asking.

“So how do you know Beast Boy?” Starfire asked, head tilting slightly to one side like a puppy.

It was the question Beast Boy had been dying to hear the answer to--though he knew he would have been incapable of asking it.

“Of course. That’s the other half of the matter. And a bit more complicated,” Galtry said, rubbing his hands together meditatively. “The simple answer is that I was a friend of his parents’. Back during their tenure at the University of Pretoria.” There was a soft smile on his face, but it didn’t seem to exude any kind of joy. “Small world, isn’t it?”

“But all of those artifacts...all of their belongings--you sent those?” Robin tried to clarify.

Galtry nodded. “After their unfortunate passing, I was designated Garfield’s legal guardian by the court that sorted their affairs. They were always very private people, and I was the closest acquaintance they had. Their son was supposed to inherit their entire fortune--the only problem being...well...no one knew where you were,” he said, looking directly at Beast Boy now. “Seeing as you had still been under close medical watch at the time of your disappearance, it was the general belief that you had died somewhere in the jungle shortly afterward. But because there was never any actual proof of that being the case, the money was never dispersed by the government or anyone else. Instead it’s in a bit of a state of limbo held by those same officials—where it’s been utterly useless given the circumstances.”

Galtry looked down at the table, shaking his head. “I had just about given up hopes of ever finding Garfield—you wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to find someone once they’ve essentially erased their given name from their identity. Even through legal means. Surprisingly, the small detail of him being green didn’t help very much either,” Galtry said with a small laugh. “I only recently learned it was even an aspect of his...condition. The side effect hadn’t quite developed completely before he disappeared.”

Galtry spoke to his friends as if this was knowledge Beast Boy had always possessed and merely neglected to share with them, which, as far as he knew, was not the case. Though the historic tirade made him wonder just how much of his life he had forced himself to forget.  

Galtry shook his head once more. “There were always flitting rumors of what had really happened to the Logans’ son, but I was always too stubborn to believe them.” A small ironic smile crept over his face as he looked directly at Beast Boy. “You have to understand. I’ve dedicated my entire life to the sciences. And, quite frankly, your very existence seems to defy its most basic principles.”

The silence that followed was unlike any other that had filled the air that night. There was a certain quality to it that went beyond discomfort. Beast Boy felt himself instinctively clench the sides of his chair as he struggled to keep his expression neutral. Galtry’s words felt eerily like a compliment, and somehow that made things worse.

Robin cleared his throat suddenly, making a point to stand from his seat. “Thanks for the meal, it was really delicious. But this is all a lot to take in. We’ll need a little more time as a team to consider whether or not we can help you.”

“I completely understand,” Galtry said with a smile. “Especially considering we’ve only just met.” He folded his hands in front of him, like a compassionate leader about to make a compromise with some of his disheveled citizens. “If you all would like to know more about what it is I do, I would be more than happy to show you around my lab this weekend. Perhaps a better understanding of my work would convince you?”

“We’ll have to think about it,” Robin repeated in the same definitive tone.

“Of course,” Galtry said automatically. As if this were a dance he’d done many times before. “Here,” he rose from his seat. “For now the least I can do is see you off.”

The man known to them as Nicholas Galtry made his way through the door, exiting the restaurant the way they’d come in. But this time, Beast Boy noticed that it wasn’t the green skin and glowing eyes or robotic arms and legs that captured everyone’s attention. It was Galtry. The doors were opened for them as if on cue, valets and restaurant staff trailing behind them without Galtry so much as lifting a finger. When they got to the outside of the restaurant, Cyborg’s car was already there, running and ready to go.

“I could really use your help,” Galtry said, passing the keys from the valet’s hand to Cyborg’s. “I hope I’ll be hearing from you soon.”  

The second they were in the car, the doors shut tight behind them and a quiet voice broke the heavy silence.

“Did I mention I hate it here?” Raven mumbled, the first words she’d said since they’d met Galtry. The only words she’d said all night.

Beast Boy didn’t say it, but he had been thinking the same thing. Though maybe hate wasn’t the right word. Not exactly.

He turned to look out the back seat window, and watched as Galtry watched them drive away.

[heybuddyitsmehai]

🎉Happy Birthday Honey🎉

I know I'm just one of many people who will be showering you with love today, but I really, truly, hope your day is amazing and I luh you very many lots all the time 💕

Bedtime Routine with Botanist!Ezra

Maybe the two of you have been scavenging the Green for flowers all day and now that the planet's suns have set, you're both more than ready for bed.

You follow him obediently back inside your tent, a bag full of pressed flowers slung over his shoulder and his journal tucked under your arm.

Ezra has been telling you a story about the last time he came face to face with a toydarian lizard as the pair of you hiked back to the tent in an effort to keep you from getting too sleepy, but now that you're both home, he lets his weariness get the better of him.

His shoulders slump as he steps through the canvas door and he lets out a deep sigh, slugging his pack and tool kit to the floor beside the cot. "I do believe I am spent, my love. The call of our cot is ringing in my ears louder than it normally does."

You nod in agreement, stifling a yawn, and begin to take off your suit, the extra weight of it much like the heavy exhaustion clouding your mind. Ez is quick to help you out of it, careful to avoid snagging your hair as he pulls the helmet up and off of your head.

“Tea, birdie?" He asks as he unzips the back of your suit, reaching out for your hand as you step out of it.

"Mmm, I can make it Ez. Lay down and rest your shoulder."

The prospector is keen, time and attentive afffection having made him well aware of your wiles. "Let me do this for you." He gently prods, the soft pads of his fingers trailing down your now exposed arms.

You exhale loudly and throw your head back. "Fine."

Ezra beams and leans forward to give you a tender kiss, his mouth soft and warm against yours. A smile spreads across his lips as he pulls away, dragging his fingers across the column of your outstretched neck and up to comb a wild sprig of hair behind your ear.

You lean against him and stretch back up for one more peck before Ezra squeezes you tightly.

He hums deep in his throat, warm and content and fulfilled with you in his arms. He lets you free, then moves over to the makeshift kitchen and begins preparing your tea. Your favorite mug is taken from it's home, the container of black tea, the smell blooming and proud as he opens it, is shaken and carefully prodded through.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, his selflessness reserved just for you. You begin getting ready for the evening and as you're brushing your teeth, Ezra sticks his head around the corner.

"Tea's ready, my love. It's next to your book stack."

You smile and nod a thank you through a mouth full of toothpaste.

Ez wiggles in beside the sink and next to you, foraging for his own toothbrush.

You muddle, your mouth slightly agape with foaming toothpaste, "We gotta clean my suit before we go back out tomorrow."

Ezra nods and squeezes toothpaste onto his toothbrush. "The swamps of the Green are harsh and unforgiving, I'm afraid."

You nod and wash out the last of your toothpaste, "At least we finally found your special flower though."  

The botanist quips before beginning to brush, "I've had my special flower all along." One of his dark eyebrows cocks upwards and a smile tugs at his lips.

Your cheeks beam at his words, but you roll your eyes to tease him. "Easy there, cowboy." Moving a hand along the ridges of his back, you teeter over and kiss his cheek, giving his bare shoulder a little squeeze before pulling away.

You hurry back to your cot and to the mug of tea steaming faithfully on the stack of books by your bedside.

You sip it happily as you wait for him and he joins you in bed soon after. He pulls you close to him and mumbles under his breath, "Night, sweet birdie."

Throwing back the last of your tea, you smile and nestle your face into his chest, "Night, Ez."

Teaching Din How to Bake

Sweet baby Din is so good at lots of things. Hunting, gathering, headbutting, being emo, etc but baking...is not one of those things.

He wants to do it, he really does, because he knows how much you love it and how happy it makes you.

But no matter what, somehow your birthday cake comes out either burnt or still doughy somehow.

He's been trying to practice in secret so he can surprise you on your birthday with the perfect cake, but it's been hard to keep the Crest from smelling like burnt food.

The night before your birthday, he's giving it all he's got, an aporn on over the beskar, flour on his thigh plate, the heat from the oven causing his helmet to fog up, him crouching in front of the glowing machine just staring into it.

The timer hasn't gone off yet but he thinks he can see the cake burning and he really doesn't want to burn it because it's the night before your birthday and he really doesn't want to give you a burnt cake but if he burns it where will he get a new one and when will he find the time to surprise you if he's spending that time fixing the cake and-

"Din?" You ask from the doorway, your hair frizzy and your eyes squinting. "What are you doing?" You chuckle.

He clears his throat and stands slowly, wiping his gloved hands on his apron. "I was, uh, I am-" he looks back down to the oven. "I think I'm burning your birthday cake."

You smile as you watch him pull the lump of batter from the oven. It's slanted and clearly not whisked together well enough, but you could tell he really wanted to do it himself. "It doesn't look that bad."

Din puts his hands on his hips and sighs, shifting his weight. "Yeah...it does."

You sigh and move to him, your brave and fearless bounty hunter who braved the wilds of the kitchen for you. You run your hands up his chest to wrap around his neck. "Thank you for trying."

Din stands awkwardly under your touch, clearly disappointed in himself and feeling a bit embarrassed. He sighs heavily, "I'm sorry. I wanted to surprise you."

You lean up to kiss the edge of his helmet. "I know. But now," You begin, reaching behind him to untie your apron he's wearing. "I can teach you."

"But it's your birth-"

"Din," You look up to the slat in his helmet to where his eyes would be. "I want to."

He let's out a sigh and nods, "Okay."

You take your apron off of him and put it on, Din there to tie it securely around your waist.

Din is a perfect student, listening and watching intently and trying not to be too helpless.

You can feel him tense when you put your hands over his, showing him exactly how to whisk the batter.

After the batter is made and the cake is in the oven, Din let's out a heavy sigh, brushing a hand through your hair. "Thank you."

Farmer's Market with Jack

For a summer day in July, the weather is not too bad and Jack is insistent on the two of you not waste it and go to the farmer's market.

"I'll make it fun, darlin', just do me this kindness."

You nod and beam up at him, a smear of flour on your cheek. "Anytime."

Looking up into his golden-flecked eyes, seeing the quirk of his smile and that one piece of hair that just won't stayed combed behind his ear, you can't help but to bend to his desires.

When you agree to it, he gives you a kiss on the cheek in recompense and hurries to shower and get ready for the day.

The market is full today, everyone else taking advantage of the nice weather as well, you assume.

Jack holds one of your hands in his and leads you forward through the stalls, "Anything catch your eye, clementine?"

You push yourself closer to him to avoid the hordes of people and not at all because you can see the outline of his bicep through the tight fabric of his shirt and can't stop yourself from needing to feel it.

The two of you stop at a booth selling squash and giggle at their funny shapes, Jack taking full advantage of the vegetable props to make you laugh even harder.

He loves seeing you like this; the stress of the day not yet pulling at your shoulders, the warm sunshine on your face and glinting off your dark hair, the ease of your time spent with him is suddenly surprising and helps him to realize just how much he loves you.

After buying a head of asparagus and a few huge sweet potatoes, he spots a booth selling flowers down the path and turns to you quickly, blocking your line of sight, "Will you do me a favor?"

A twinge of rouge rises in your face and you nod yes, batting your eyelashes dutifully up at him.

"Close those pretty blue eyes for me and stay right here, baby. I'll be right back." He requests and after you comply, he gives the bridge of your nose a quick kiss before you can hear his boots walking away.

Standing in a bustling farmers market with your eyes closed and tote bag in hand is not ideal and a little nerve wracking, but for Jack, you had to at least try.

He returns quickly and you can hear the smile in his tone when he says "Okay, open 'em."

When you do, you see that he has brought you a bushel of tulips; white and pink and yellow and red.

You're unsure how to respond and he can see it in your face. "You don't want them?" He asks, his eyes wide.

“No, no, Jack, I want them, I just-" There it is; that pesky heart rising in your throat. "I don't know what to say...Thank you."

He smirks at that, knowing it was a job well done, and pulls you into a hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you, pretty girl?"

You nod and let your eyes close. "Yes, Jack."

"Good." He ends, using his lips to press the word into the softness of your neck and squeezing your sides just a little bit tighter.

TAGLIST: you :)

[dawnrider]

One shot fluff prompt, I would love to see your take on this. Inuyasha as a single parent taking his adopted son, Shippo (they have more of a big brother/little brother bond) out to the book store to buy manga as he is starting to get into reading them. Spots the very beautiful Kagome (who works there)but is way too shy to go talk to her. After seeing her, he starts taking shippo there every weekend. Observant shippo notices this and encourages inuyasha to ask kagome out.

Ok Anon, I apologize for this taking so long to finish.  Side effect of having too many WIPs and this one-shot inspiring a second more than fluffy part that has yet to be written. SOOO…  I tweaked it a bit but it will fit your prompt more as the second part develops.  I hope you like it!

Watching the red ponytail in front of him bob, Inuyasha tried to breathe shallowly while keeping track of his charge.  There were so many people, so many smells, it was hard for him to focus.  But he was responsible for Shippou and if he lost him in this crowd, they would probably arrest him… or something.  This is all Miroku’s doing anyway, he thought with a scowl.  He didn’t mind the kit, really, but the outings on a weekly basis were tough.  Inuyasha didn’t deal with people well and Shippou was absolutely a people person.  Everyone he met was practically his new best friend!  The inuhanyou, on the other hand, often felt like a rock was sitting on his chest when he was in situations where he had to “chat” with people he didn’t know.

“Big Brothers and Big Sisters would be perfect!” Miroku had told him with the enthusiasm of someone knowing their idea would be denied out of hand.  He was persistent though, keeping after his friend of over a decade until he finally caved and applied.  Inuyasha was honestly a bit surprised they had accepted him.  He was a business analyst who spent most of his time in a cubicle avoiding actual direct communication with his coworkers.  That’s what email was for!  He was stable, no record (surprisingly), and was successful on paper.  But he was also boring and a hanyou.  Not much to promote him as a child mentor.

Here he was, following a very animated nine-year-old kitsune through the congested streets of the city on “Comic Book Day” to go to the “best bookstore in town.”  Not his favorite thing to do, especially on a weekend when it was bound to be busy.  On top of it, people kept saying “May the Fourth be with you” and he was starting to feel like an idiot for not understanding why everyone thought the date today was so funny.

Squeezing between a tall man in a costume covered in brown fur and the door frame, Inuyasha scowled as he caught the back of Shippou’s shirt.  “Hang on, Runt!  I gotta be able to keep track of you.”

“I know, I know!  But looook!” he sighed as his green eyes took in all of the books around them.  There were large cardboard cutouts everywhere, and people in various levels of costume dress to rival the cutouts.  Inuyasha let out a breath and tried to use his calmest tone.

“I know you’re excited, but if I lose you, your foster mom is gonna string me up by my toes.”  Shippou snickered, but did settle himself enough to stick close by.  Inuyasha felt his heart rate infinitesimally slow.  With a close eye on the kid, he navigated the crowd with the goal of bumping into as few people as possible.

Then a scent caught his nose, a sweet and faintly floral note over a heavier one.  Inuyasha and Shippou both started following their sense of smell without realizing it, meandering toward what they eventually recognized as the cafe.  It was less crowded there for the moment, and the inuhanyou felt like his lungs could finally fill completely.  Something about the combination of scents was soothing in a way he didn’t expect to find in such a crowded place.

~~~~~~

“May the fourth be with you!”  The man startled, turning to find her behind the counter of the cafe.  He stared blankly at her, struggling with what the appropriate response should be.  “You know. Star Wars?  The Force?”  After a short moment his eyes widened and his mouth formed an oh of understanding.  It was probably one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.  He wasn’t much into this stuff, but he was making such an obvious effort for the boy with him.  It was sweet, even if he was a bit awkward.  “Nathan had to remind me yesterday,” she whispered conspiratorially, nodding in the direction of her manager.  He was dressed, not very well, as one of the big superheroes from a more recent movie.  The man blinked his strangely colored eyes at her, then let a tiny smirk lift his lips.

“What is that smell?” the boy asked, coming up to the counter, red ponytail quivering as he openly sniffed in her direction.  Kagome grinned and pointed to the glass case.

“Just took the almond croissants from the oven. The almond is pretty strong, huh?”  The boy nodded emphatically.

“Butter.  That was the other smell.”

Kagome blinked, not sure how to reply to the older man’s somewhat random statement.  “Um.  Yes!  There’s quite a bit of butter in them.” She watched him pale, then the tiniest smile on his lips.  That’s even cuter than before! she squealed internally.  “You can try a sample…”

“I’m Shippou, and that’s my Big Brother, Inuyasha.”  The boy paused.  “But not like… my real brother, the program, you know?”  She grinned in response, giving Inuyasha a quick glance before returning her full attention to the enthusiastic boy directly in front of her.  He was eyeing the pastries expectantly, a glitter of hunger in his green eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Shippou and… Inuyasha, was it?”  Kagome bit her lip at the adorable blush that rose on his cheeks at having her full attention on him.  “You’re both welcome to try some, if you want.”  Shippou showed no qualms in accepting the small piece of the sweet, Inuyasha hesitating a moment before stepping forward to let her put some in his palm.  “Your cosplay is awesome, by the way,” she said with a glance at his hair and ears.  He startled at her words, golden eyes widening and the previous flush returning with a vengeance.

“Oh.  He’s not in costume.  Inuyasha is a hanyou,” Shippou commented around a mouthful of croissant.

It was Kagome’s turn to pale. “Oh my… I’m sorry, that was so rude of me to assume!”

“Keh.  S’alright.” His eyes dropped to the floor and she felt the loss of his gaze like the sun going behind a cloud.  The guilt at hurting him like that stuck in her throat and her eyes watered.  “Hey, it’s ok, really!  D-Don’t cry!” he begged her, stepping up to the counter and waving his empty hand in a stunted attempt to calm her down.  “Not many of us around, ya know?” he muttered, giving her a strained smile when she took a calming breath and blew it out slowly.

“Is it ok if I go look at that table?” Shippou asked, breaking them from their staring contest.  Inuyasha followed his pointing finger to the table of children’s comic books just on the edge of the tiled floor that outlined the cafe’s space.  He nodded, giving the boy a stern look that spoke volumes before leaning back against the counter. “Thanks!”

“He’s very exuberant.”

“You got no idea.  He’s all over the place.”  His voice turned sad.  “Not surprising.  Only kitsune in a foster home full of human kids.  None of them can keep up with him.”

“That’s great that he’s got you then, isn’t it?” she said softly.  Inuyasha glanced over his shoulder at her, a thoughtful look lowering his brows slightly.

“‘Spose so.”

~~~~~~

Her smile brightening after the previous near meltdown was a balm on his nerves.  He did not deal with crying.  Not at all.  If she had started, he probably would have bolted and the kid would have been called in as abandoned…  Stop spiraling, he scolded himself.  “How long have you been part of the program?” she asked, moving around behind the counter to clean up little messes here, imaginary spots there.  Inuyasha understood the need for movement when one felt uncomfortable.

“A few months.  It was my friend’s idea.”  He heard her pause.  He realized that it might sound like he wasn’t all that interested in this very big responsibility. “I-I wanted to do it. It’s important.”

A beep perked his ears and he glanced back to see Kagome put a pan of something into the small oven on the back counter.  “It is very important.  Especially for kids who don’t have a lot of positive role models.”  There was a repeat clicking sound as she set the timer.  “My younger brother was part of the program as a Little Brother when he was in middle school.”

“O-Oh yea?”  Inuyasha turned his body a bit so he could catch her gaze while still keeping an eye and ear on the kid.  “Are you… are your… Um.”

“My father died when we were pretty young.  Souta is six years younger than I am, so he never even knew him.”

“I’m sorry,” he responded a little awkwardly.  She shrugged.  “Did he feel like it was a good experience?”

“Yea.  He’s still in contact with his Big Brother.  He was even part of his wedding when he got married a few years ago.”  Inuyasha nodded appreciatively.  That’s the kind of experience he hoped he could give Shippou.  To be someone he could rely on.  Just need to figure out how to rely on myself.  “It looks like you’re a good fit.  He looks up to you, you know?”

Inuyasha blinked, staring at the young boy pouring over a colorful comic book with what looked like dragons on the cover.  “You think so?”  Shippou must have felt their attention, looking up before holding the paperback up for him to see the cover more clearly, grinning from ear to ear.  Inuyasha tossed him a thumbs up and a slight smile.

“Pretty sure,” she giggled.

“Kagome!�� Are the sugar cookies ready for the decorating event?”  The pair startled from their comfortable lean on the counter at the male voice that sliced through the murmur of voices inside the shop.

“Oh!  Yes.  They’re all cooled, Nathan.”  Kagome pointed to the short rack of large cookie trays with nearly two dozen square cookies on them.  He could smell the vanilla and sugar from where he stood.  “I’m sorry, I have to get the tables set up.”  Inuyasha nodded, but felt a bit deflated at the lost chance to keep talking with her.  He actually liked talking with her.  It was honestly the first time he’d had that thought during conversation with a stranger.  A girl, at that!

“Keh.”  He paused.  “D-Do you need help?”

Kagome looked a little surprised, then smiled.  “That would actually be great.”  He checked in with Shippou, who was still flipping through comics, and got a waved hand and a sly grin in response.  Inuyasha chose not to rise to the bait in that grin, jumping back in to keep Kagome from dropping a very large folding table on her foot.

The pair of them continued to chat as he deftly unfolded the table, helping Kagome move the cafe tables around so they could fit more chairs into the small space.  It was easy talking with her, he noted, much more so than he ever would have imagined.  She was patient with his hesitations, never laughed when he said something slightly off.  Inuyasha barely felt the time fly by.  When children started gathering at the tables, most younger than Shippou, he almost wanted to shoo them away.  “Inuyasha…”

“Yea, I know.  I should get the kid home.”

“No.  Well… If you have to.”  He took in her scent, surprised by the disappointment coloring it.  Did she… not want him to leave?  “There’s another event for young readers next week, if you have another outing with Shippou.”

“I… Yea, I’ll bring it up to him.”  Inuyasha leveled her with a serious look for a moment.  “You’ll be here then too?”  The smile she gave him nearly stopped his heart.  She was so beautiful… and kind and sweet and… and…  “G-Good.  Maybe we’ll see you then.”  She nodded.  “Save a couple of those almond things for us, alright?  I’ll remember to bring cash next time.”  He turned to look for Shippou again, taking a breath to settle his heart.

“Inuyasha, wait!”  He stopped, spinning on his heel at her urgent call.  She nearly collided with his chest in an effort to catch him.  Inuyasha reached out to capture her elbows, not wanting her to tip backward.  “Take one for the road?” she breathed, her dark eyes drawing him in.  Her scent overpowered anything else in the cafe, even the previously overwhelming almond. Inuyasha found himself studying the way her personal fragrance tickled his senses, the feel of her soft skin against his fingertips. They both took a slightly shuddering breath, frozen in their half-embrace.

“Cool!  You gonna split that with me, Inuyasha?”  Shippou’s voice shocked them apart so fast, Kagome almost did stumble.  The hanyou finally noticed the partially wrapped almond croissant in her hands between them, which had been at severe risk of being squashed a moment before.  He smiled awkwardly, then accepted the pastry and softly thanked her.  He moved off with Shippou bouncing beside him in anticipation of his half.  “We’re so coming back here, aren’t we?” he asked when he finally had his piece and they were making their way back toward the public parking garage.  Inuyasha shrugged, trying - and failing - to be nonchalant.  “Yea, I thought so.  You toooootally love her,” he cackled.

“W-What?!  No!” Inuyasha balked at the bold statement.  The kitsune kit was absolutely in his element, giggling and taunting him as he skipped down the sidewalk.  “Hey Runt, that’s not funny.  Grown ups don’t just…” He hesitated, not because he wasn’t sure of the right explanation, but because it was hitting him that it was not an entirely off accusation.

“Fall in love at first sight?” Shippou crowed with glee.  Inuyasha snarled and snatched him up into a light headlock.  Shippou only delighted in the playful back and forth, Inuyasha unable to sternly refute the kit’s words.  What he did know was that they would be visiting the bookstore the following weekend. And likely the one after that, as long as Kagome was working again.  Might pick up a reading habit, he thought as they got into his car, half the pastry stuck in his mouth as he put on his seat belt.  There are worse things.

@lemonlushff, @fantastiqueparfait, @heavenin--hell, @clearwillow, @bearpluscat, @thunderpo, @keichanz, @meggz0rz, @disgruntledbeast, @sarah-writes-stories, @zelink-inukag, @rikareena, @cammysansstuff, @mcornilliac, @redflamesofpassion

I posted without tags the first and had to edit from memory!

[waywardwboys]

A dozen roses - part five

Characters: AU!Dean Winchester, reader, OFC (original fictional characters). 

Word Count: 3.1k+

Warnings: some language, sweet angst at first(?), all the fluff at the end, Dean being the sweetest. 

Summary: Y/N has a new neighbor and she’s nervous as hell. How would it go? Who could it be? And more importantly, when would she see Dean again?

A/N: Unbeta’d. English is not my first language so I apologize if you read any nonsense in here. Hope you like it! xx

You can read previous parts here.

Supernatural masterlist.

Pics are not mine. 

Feedback is always appreciated!

A few hours had passed since Mr. Stevenson knocked on her door to say goodbye before going to California.

She was supposed to have a new neighbor today, living just across the hallway. And the only thing Y/N thought about was going there and saying hi, being kind to him, socializing.

It had been too long since Y/N didn’t make new friends. She didn’t even talk to other people, never knew someone new. With the exception of Dean. But, what if, just like Dean, her new neighbor was good looking, muscled or had beautiful eyes? What if she got nervous? What if she started talking nonsense in front of him? Y/N always got nervous in front of men. She was shy, sometimes she stuttered, just because it scared her what others could think about her.

The first time she met Margaery and Ophelia, she struggled to be kind to them and not running away. She didn’t like questions, and those women were the queens of questioning. However, it wasn’t like that with Dean, or John, his dad. Especially Dean, he was different.

From the living room, still with the front door closed, she could hear her nosy neighbors’ voices talking to the new guy across the hallway. They asked him everything, but she didn’t hear his voice. He might be avoiding those questions. Or maybe Margaery and Ophelia didn’t even give him time to answer.

Y/N strongly rubbed her eyes and decided to start doing something. She got up from her couch, went to the kitchen and started baking that cherry pie that Mr. Stevenson had suggested her to do for the new neighbor as a welcome gift.

So she got down to work.

While she was cooking, she tried to get Dean, her parents, or her work out of her mind. Which obviously was an impossible thing to do.

She hadn’t heard from Dean in days. What he had said last time they saw each other wasn’t actually clear at all. He had just said they’ll meet again soon. Nothing more. He hadn’t even asked for her telephone number. It was really weird because yet he still seemed to be pretty sure to be seeing her soon, as he had said.

Y/N had imagined every possible scenario where it would be probable to find him: at a grocery store, at a coffee shop, at the music store around the corner, or even in the street from her building. After all, he knew where she lives. She even thought about going to his dad’s garage, where she sure would find him working. But no, she just wouldn’t do that, it’d be really weird.

On the other hand, the phone call to her parents a few days ago still made her feel nervous. She was being paranoid. She imagined her mom calling back in a rage, telling her off about how bad she had treated her. Or she also imagined her dad, taking a flight to Kansas, angrier than ever. But that was just impossible. They weren’t the parents of the year, but they were not monsters either. It was just her mind playing tricks.

While she shaped the pie dough, Runnin’ With The Devil, from Van Halen, was playing from the music player in the living room. She wanted to dance in time to the music, but she just couldn’t. She was nervous. She was even anxious. What if the new neighbor didn’t like her pie? What if he laughed at her because she was being pathetic?

She kept cooking in spite of her insecurities, getting ready to finish what she had started.

When the pie was made, she put it in the oven and set the timer so that she could know when it was ready. Meanwhile, she cleaned what she had used, she did her hair and applied some perfume. Roses. Her favorite.

Y/N walked impatiently from the kitchen to her room, waiting anxiously for the pie to be done.

When she realized that she was only going to get more nervous by doing so, if that was even possible, she decided to keep her mind busy and do something productive. She turned on the TV and took some paperwork her boss had told her to fill in for next Monday. It was still Friday, she had plenty of time. She put her glasses on and started working, oblivious to anything related to Dean or her parents.

But it was useless, though. She wasn’t focused. She wasn’t a hundred percent, and she wouldn’t be until she knew what was going to happen with the new neighbor, or when she was going to see Dean again.

She went to her bedroom’s mirror and practiced some lines she could say when she knocked on his door.

“Hello. I’m Y/N, I live in front of you. I just wanted to give you this cherry pie as a welcome gift. I hope it is to your taste.”

She disappointingly snorted.

“I hope it is to your taste? What are you thinking about? You want to bore him to death?” she mumbled.

Y/N rolled her eyes and started again.

“Okay, something more casual now,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “Hey! I’m Y/N, I’m the neighbor across the hallway. Welcome. I made this cherry pie for you, it’s still hot, be careful” she said spreading her arms in front of her as if she was handing something to her reflection.

She lowered them disillusioned, making them hit her body. She snorted again and her eyebrows rose.

“He’s going to laugh at you, Y/N. He’s going to throw that damn pie to your face” she said turning around and lying down on her bed, eventually giving up.

And that's’ when, seconds later, she heard a beep coming from the kitchen.

Y/N jumped out of the bed and ran to the kitchen trying not to stumble. She took the oven glove from the first drawer and took the pie out of the oven carefully.

It looked great.

She put it on a big plate trying not to ruin it and left it to cool for a few minutes.

At least, that was the intention. But she just couldn’t hold her nerves, so she decided to put an end to the situation as soon as possible.

She said to herself the lines she had practiced before, feeling her heart racing as she opened the door. She took the keys and the cherry pie, got out to the hallway and knocked on the door in front of hers. She turned around quickly and closed her apartment door. Y/N turned around again and waited.

She barely waited ten seconds, which seemed like then minutes.

She wanted to practice those lines again before the door opened, but her mind just went blank.

Crap, Y/N.

She blinked several times feeling how his hands were losing strength. By thinking about the possibility of the pie falling down in the middle of the hallway, her face adopted an expression of concern.

But that never happened.

Because if Y/N was nervous before, when the door opened, she got choked up.

A tall guy with brown hair and green eyes opened the door. As he saw Y/N standing in front of him, a familiar wide smile appeared on his face. The boy leaned on the doormat and crossed his arms, staring at her. Although he didn’t say a word, his green eyes were focused on her,  and his smile was as bright as the sun.

Y/N was speechless. That couldn’t be real. No way. It was just impossible. She had never imagined this to happen. Not like this. If someone had told her about this before, she wouldn’t have believed it.

Y/N got lost in his green eyes while she opened her mouth slowly, about to say something. She thought she wouldn’t be able to say a word, or she would talk so low that he wouldn’t hear her. But it was just her mind playing tricks again. None of that happened. Se didn’t even realize she had talked until he nodded, warmly smiling at her.

“Dean?”

***

“Y/N, is that pie?” Dean said when his eyes looked down at the plate she was holding.

“I… Uhm…Yeah. Cherry pie. What… What’s going on, Dean?” she asked trying to understand.

“I’m your new neighbor,” he said with a smile.

“Well, yeah. I noticed. But, how is that possible?” Y/N frowned.

“Remember when I took you home a few days ago?” she nodded. “And when I told you we’ll meet again soon? I said it because I recognized your building. I was planning on moving and I contacted Mr. Stevenson. He accepted and sold this beauty to me” he said lifting his arms, pointing at his apartment. “All of that before meeting you, of course” his eyebrows rose as he grinned.

“Dean, but, uhm… I… I don’t get it. I was not expecting this at all. Could you… hold this for me? she handed him the pie so that he could take her, and so he did.

Y/N then took her hands to her eyes, rubbed them and looked up at Dean again just to check if he was real or not.

“Listen, Y/N. Why don’t you get inside? I’ll give you a piece of this delight, I’ll have one as well, of course, and I’ll explain everything. Is that okay?”

“Dean, you don’t know yet whether it’s a delight or not” she chuckled pointing at the pie.

“Every pie is a delight, beautiful. I love pie, haven’t I already told you?”

She laughed again and smiled at the ground shyly, to then look up at Dean’s green eyes.

“Now I know” she smirked. “All right, I’ll go inside, but just a little bit.”

***

Dean’s new apartment was full of boxes. Some of them were half opened, others were still closed, a few were already empty and squashed, in order to occupy less space. Music played in the background. It was heard from afar, as if it was playing at the other end of the house.

“Oh, right. Music” Dean said after seeing her confused expression. “I’ll go turn it off.”

“Wait” Y/N held his arm. “Is it… Surrender, from Cheap Trick?”

Dean’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose.

“You know this song?” she nodded.

“I like it. No need to turn it off” she smiled, a bit shyly. “Actually, I like rock music. I wanted to tell you the other day at the garage when you were listening to AC/DC, but I hesitated."

“A pretty girl who lives in front of my apartment, smells like roses, made me pie and has the same taste in music as me? This is so much better than I expected” he said looking away. But that’s when he seemed to realize she had heard it all. “Crap. I said that out loud, right?”

Y/N nodded with a shy smile, looking down.

“Do you… do you really think that?” she asked avoiding his gaze.

“Which thing?” Dean stared at her, still embarrassed for everything he had said, leaving the cherry pie on the kitchen counter.

“Uhm… the smells like roses part and… the part before that part” she stuttered.

“The pretty girl thing?” she nodded. “Of course I do” Dean smiled and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m being serious, Y/N. And your smell, for God’s sake. I won’t even talk about that ‘cause I swear I won’t be able to stop. That’s beyond me” he said glancing up to the ceiling. He kept looking up for a few seconds in her confused sight.

Y/N frowned not getting what he was talking about and chuckled. “What do you mean?”

Dean seemed to think twice whether to answer or not. Seconds later, he shook his head as if he had woken from hypnosis and blinked several times.

“What about I serve us that slice of pie? I think it’s good to eat now” he asked a bit nervous.

“Okay” she smiled and he winked at her.

Y/N observed how Dean served two slices of the cherry pie in two plates. He took two small forks and gave one to her.

When Dean tasted the first piece, he left the plate on the kitchen counter and covered his eyes with his hands as if he was a kid. Y/N stared at him with a confused expression, unknowing whether he had liked it or not.

“Y/N,” Dean said still with his eyes shut. “This is too good to be real. It’s fucking delicious” his eyes opened and gazed at her. “I’d eat it all right now. You really made this?” he asked cutting another piece.

She nodded. “I’m glad you like it, Dean” Y/N smiled and he kept eating his pie. She leaned on the counter, in front of the Winchester. That’s when he noticed the little band-aid on her finger. He frowned and looked up at her.

“What happened?” he asked while eating.

“Oh, uhm… I was scratched by a rose thorn. I know, pathetic.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose and he smirked.

“You bought roses?” he asked then.

“Oh, no. I don’t usually buy roses. It’s just…” Y/N didn’t know whether to tell him or not.

Dean looked at her expectantly for a few seconds. Then he started to get worried.

“You okay?” he left the empty plate on the counter.

“I was sent flowers.”

He then smiled widely and approached her.

“Y/N! Wow, I didn’t know that, who sent them?” he asked standing next to her.

Now she was sure he hadn’t sent them. She didn’t know why, but she felt a little disappointed. If it wasn’t him, then who was?

“I… I don’t know. They had my name on it, written on a white card. But nothing more. I have no idea who did that” she said looking down.

“Isn’t there someone who could have sent them?” he asked. She shook her head. “Well, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find your secret admirer sooner or later.”

“You think I have a secret admirer too?”

“Who else does?”

“Margaery and Ophelia. I think they came to disturb you earlier. I heard them from my apartment” Y/N chuckled.

“They don’t disturb me, they’re adorable.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and shockingly looked at him.

“Adorable? You're crazy, Dean. They’re the queens of questioning, they’re not adorable at all.”

Dean burst out laughing and closed his eyes. “You’re hilarious,” he said then.

Y/N laughed as well and stared at him. How could he be that good looking? His green eyes stared at her as well, analyzing every part of her face. She shyly looked down, feeling Dean’s eyes on her. Then, she remembered something.

“Oh shit. I have your flannel in my place. I’ll give it back right now” he said leaving the plate on the counter, turning around to start walking toward the door.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean said softly holding her wrist. In doing so, Y/N felt a little shiver running down her spine. She turned around and frowned at him.

“Don’t you want your flannel back?” she asked.

“It’s not that. I told you you’ll give it back next time we met” he said still holding her wrist.

“Well, yeah. But we already met next time, haven’t we?” she asked more and more confused.

“Yeah but… I’d want it to be… official.”

“Official?”

Dean let her go and shortened the distance between them by giving a quick step towards her. Now that they were closer, they were both even more nervous.

“Y/N…” Dean started, looking into her eyes.

I  can’t get you out of my mind, and it’s killing me that I can’t tell you that, he thought to himself.

“Y/N, you like waffles?” he asked with a big smile.

“Uhm… what?”

“Waffles. I know a place a few blocks away. Would you want to… go and have breakfast with me tomorrow?” he asked touching the back of his neck.

Oh.

OH.

OH MY GOD.

Y/N was mentally jumping for joy. Was that a date? Dean Winchester, the guy who fixed her car and then moved to his building, had just asked her out? Was that even real? Or was she daydreaming while still waiting for the pie to be ready back at her apartment?

“Y/N? I get that you’re busy or that you just… don’t want to go with me. You don’t have to accept if you don’t want to” Dean said with a strange expression on his face.

“What? No! I mean… it’s not that, Dean. I was not expecting that. I do want to have breakfast with you tomorrow.”

Crap, Y/N. That sounded really desperate.

“Really?” he asked with a bigger smile. Y/N nodded vigorously. “Great! May I come by for you at… nine? Or is it too early?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nine is perfect” she smiled back. “I have to go, by the way… It’s getting dark and… I don’t like to go to bed too late” she said checking the time on her watch.

“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow” he smiled. “Wait, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Dean walked behind her to the front door of his apartment, not being able to decide whether to put his hand on her back or not. He actually didn’t have much time to think about it, since they had already crossed the living room and arrived at the door. Y/N turned around and looked into his eyes.

“Bye, Dean” she whispered.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

“You always call me that” she chuckled.

“I can’t help it” he laughed as well and blinked. “Thanks for the pie. And for your company” Dean warmly smiled.

“Don’t mention it, Dean” she smiled again, waved at him and got her keys out of her pants pocket. When she put the key in the lock and opened the door, Dean got her attention again.

“Y/N.”

Y/N turned around and stared at his green eyes. Those green eyes she liked so much.

“Good night,” he said.

Y/N smiled and looked down.

“Good night.”

Still smiling, she got into her apartment and closed the door. Instantly, she dropped the keys and they hit the floor, but she didn’t care at all. She slid down the door and fell to the floor, feeling astonished.  

At the same time, on the other side of the hallway, Dean got back into his place, closed the door and smiled. He told to himself that it had been a good start and kept unpacking his things, looking forward to going on a first date with the girl of the smell of roses.

   Dean tags: @all-will-be-well-love @thewinchesterchronicles

Also tagging: @clarinette07 @kaleldobrev

[undeadimmortality]

Dwalin x reader

You sat next to your husband you had pledged yourself to only an hour ago. You only agreed to this marriage for your mother’s happiness, she was getting old, and one night you regretfully gave in to her demands. Although you weren’t sure why Dwalin was the one to agree to have your hand. You were still very young and very beautiful. Your mother was a dwarf but your father was part elf, part human, or so your mother thought. You looked like a small girl with beauty beyond recognition. You had many suitors, especially when you visited Dale, but always scared them away. You were independent and liked it that way, you didn’t need any “wifely duties” looming over you every day, wee, until now. The Dwarf-men, especially the royals, married within their race, so you were very sure that Dwalin may have misunderstood what your mother was proposing or maybe he thought she was someone else's mother and it was too late to back out. So now he was stuck with you. He didn’t seem interested in you at all as he sat there devouring each course that you were served at your reception. He downed more ale than you could fit inside your body, but you cleared out every glass of wine that was set in front of you, stopping only when your head started to spin a bit. You looked over to see your mother beaming at you as she sat with your brother and his family. He and his wife looked so happy and in love, as they sat there and laughed about something. It made your heart ache, for you would never know that kind of love from Dwalin. He was a hardy and gruff dwarf. He was a great warrior and loyal servant to the king, but you didn't see any love for you in his eyes while you walked to the altar. After a few too many glasses of wine and the music started to die down, you stood up and walked over to say goodnight to your family. They seemed so happy for you, oblivious to your misery, you thought they knew you better. You met with Dwalin who was already at the door and walked back to his chambers, it was tradition to sleep in the husband's abode on the wedding night. You glance up to Dwalin as you walked but he avoided your gaze. He looked disappointed in you like he expected more or better from a bride. He came to a stop and slid a key into his chambers and pushed the door open for you to walk through and followed behind you.  You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding while Dwalin started threw some logs in the fireplace. His bedroom was quite grand, It wasn’t a good home to have a family, not that Dwalin would want that from some girl who was made of too many races you thought, but it had a homey feel to it. Dwalin was starting a fire as you walked over to him, trying to control your nerves. You knew you had a duty as a wife, especially on the first night of your wedding, but Dwalin didn’t seem interested in you one bit. He got up and slumped into one of the chairs he had set up around the warm fireplace. He met your gaze after a moment and stared at you like he forgot you were there.

“Uh...I..” You frowned, breaking his gaze and looking down at your dress. Not knowing what to even say to the man you now call husband.

“You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” He said, slumping further into his chair and closing his eyes.

Did he really find you that appalling, he wasn’t going to touch you or even sleep in his own bed? You thought you’d get some affection, some once of love out of a new husband, but not this. Why did he agree to marry you? It must've been a mistake. You turned away and walked to Dwalin’s bed, taking the bread’s out of your long hair and unlacing the top of your dress. You didn’t have any of your other clothes, so you simply stripped down to your undergarments and crawled into the cold bed. Crying silently before you fell asleep.

You awoke the next morning, stretching out over the bed before the days of yesterday flooded your memory and quickly put out your good mood. Dwalin opened the bathhouse door and entered the room with a towel before freezing when he saw your eyes on him. You turned away and sat up, rubbing your eyes.

He cleared his throat and walked to his closet.

“I have some duties I must attend to today.” He said, glancing back at you.

“You needn’t worry about me, I have my own to attend.” You said back, with a bit more attitude than was necessary. He turned around but you were already hopping off the bed and walking in the bathhouse. You soaked in Dwalin’s tub for longer than normal, enjoying the size, as yours wasn’t this big. You could hear him shuffling around and then the slam the door and he was gone. You felt happier being alone but there was a tightness in your chest. You wanted this to work. You wanted to get to know Dwalin and make a happy marriage together. Dwalin was very attractive in your eyes, he was a bit older but you didn’t care about that. Not that you thought you’d age anymore with your elf part, but only time would tell with that. Dwalin was a warrior, and his body showed it, he was sure and graceful whenever he did anything. And his muscles...You quickly shook the thoughts away and stepped out of the tub.

You arrived at your mother's and the first thing you did was slip into a clean, day to day dress from your closet. It was a simple dark green dress that hugged your curves rather nicely before flowing down past your waist and setting just above your ankles. You brought out a couple trucks and started packing most of your things away to take to Dwalin’s as that was your home now too.

“Ada! What are you doing here?” You mother gasped, stepping into your room and kissing your cheek with a greeting. “Shouldn’t you still be in bed with your husband?” She winked, making you cringe.

“He’s busy, mother, as am I. I have to move my things over before I open up the bakery today.” You said, throwing books into an open trunk.

“Never you mind about that dear, your brother's wife agreed to open your store for you today.” She smiled. “Now, leave this here, I am sure I can find some young men to help me move your trunks to Dwalins! Its lunch time, might you be a good wife and bring him some lunch!” She finished pushing you out of you bedroom and towards the door before you could even argue. You trudged over to your store and found Petra already opening up.

“Hello, Petra” You greet your brother's wife. You absolutely loved your bakery, your mother helped you buy it when you first moved to the mountain and it brought in quite a decent income for you as you were the only baker in Erebor. It was a bit small but the ovens were big and there was a lot of display areas to show of your goods.

Petra greeted you and you both made small talk while you made some sandwiches and grabbed a couple muffins and chips, setting them in a basket. You waved to your brother’s wife and thanked her for helping you out today, and you were off towards the forges. You assumed this is where Dwalin was, you’ve seen him come and go from here a couple times over the years, although you thought he could have any job he wanted, why he wanted to work in that area was beyond you. You walked into the big area, feeling the heat stick to your skin. There were a lot of dwarves down here and it took you awhile to find Dwalin. You walked past a group of dwarves that were bent over some machinery talking amongst each other when one of them whistled and another said something rather inappropriate your way. As you rolled your eye’s and was about to turn around, one had caught your wrist, but let it go and immediately backed up, his eyes going wide as he stared past you. You turned around to see Dwalin standing directly behind you, glaring at the men, who dispersed and got back to work.

“What are ya doing here?” He asked, seeming a bit annoyed.

“I brought you lunch!” You snapped at him.

“Oh, Y-you didn’t have to do that” He didn’t meet your gaze, but walked off waving for you to follow. He came up to a small room that had a few tables and chairs and storage areas, motioning you to walk through and he shut the door behind you both. You both sat down across from each other and handed him his sandwich and muffin and a little cloth wrap of chips. He looked rather delighted or so you thought not really sure what any of his expressions really said. You both ate quietly, not even small talk came about. You had a few bites of your sandwich but set it down, not really in the mood for food. You looked at him but he didn’t meet your gaze.

“Why don’t you look at me, Dwalin? Or talk to me?” You said quietly. He looked up at you, finally meeting your gaze and had a confused expression across his face.

“What I do-” He tried to get out before you scoffed and stopped his sentence.

“You don’t! You don’t enjoy my company. We don’t even know each other! Why did you marry me?! I can't even count how many times I've asked myself that question and we’ve only been married a day!” You were yelling by now, and stood up quickly and left. You heard Dwalin call your name before the door slammed shut but you kept walking, extremely embarrassed at your outburst. You made your way to Dwalins home and noticed your trunks had been neatly stacked outside the large doors. After a while and some struggling, you got the trunks into the chambers and pushed them against the wall to the side of the door, not in the mood to put anything away. You made your way back to your bakery to help close up.

The next couple weeks didn’t seem to be any different. Dwalin still refused to look at you, speak to you, or really even acknowledge your existence. After your confrontation in the forge, a tension had grown between you; a bridge slowly crumbling which seemed irreparable. The only thing that had changed was that he had found the stomach to share a bed with you. You had thought that maybe it was progress, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. He slept with his back to you most nights and put as much space between you too as he could. When you woke up, he’d already be gone, and you were more alone than you’d ever been.  Over the days, ashamed of your failure to draw your husband into your marriage, you had avoided your mother and brother. Keeping to your bakery, baking more treats and delectables than necessary most days. Which you brought home after a days work for Dwalin and found the basket you’d laid out for him empty in the morning, so at least you were bringing him some pleasure in your small efforts.  If your mother were to corner you and ask after the state of things, you weren’t so sure you could lie to her. You were overflowing with resent and didn’t know how much longer you could repress it.You had now grown quite close to Dis though, through this union, which you were quite happy about. She was a wonderful dwarf, full of wisdom and gossip. You enjoyed your times with her when she made it a point to stop by your store and have a cake or two while you conversed and got to know each other. She never brought up Dwalin, though she could see the tension there, but one day that changed as she couldn’t hold back any longer for she cared for you both deeply.

“Ada, what’s wrong? You’ve been mopier today than normal. Is it...Dwalin?” She asked cautiously.

You sighed at her question, knowing it was bound to come up at some point.

“He doesn’t like me very much, I'm afraid.” You said stirring the contents of a honey cake you were working on while she leaned on your counter.

“Well that’s rubbish, I know Dwalin too well, and I know for a fact he has feelings for you.” She paused. “Maybe he just needs a push. Maybe if you were to initiate the first move?” She thought.

“He won’t even look at me…I can’t imagine he’d want to touch me. Do you suggest I hold him down?” He efforts were nice but they weren’t helpful.

“You might just have to, and not because he’s unwilling,” She said, “Trust me, he’s just a moron. I should know. That dwarf never does anything he doesn’t want to so there is a reason he agreed to marry you.”

“Well, what do I do then?” You asked, feeling just a bit more hopeful.

“Wear fewer clothes.” She smirked and with that, she bid you a farewell and good luck before she left.

After you had finished baking for the day, and dinner time was coming to, you made Dwalin and you some stew, threw some extra treats in the basket, and closed up shop for the day. You thought about what Dis had said, and found a bit of hope and determination in yourself to make this marriage work. She was right, he did marry you, maybe it hadn’t been a big mistake. Dwalin wasn’t home yet so you made it a point to take a quick bath and put on something nice, that showed a little more than usual. It was basically your undergarments and a robe you tied loosely. You tried to steady your nerves, and you struck the flint and lit a fire, and lighting a few candles around the dark room to give it a soft glow. You went back to the bathhouse and started brushing out your wet hair when Dwalin stomped through the door. You could hear him kicking his boots off and slumping down in his chair for the night, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves some more before you walked into the room and over to Dwalin.

You found Dwalin in his chair, distracted by a blade he had begun to whet across a small stone. You neared him, your footsteps not so silent that he wouldn’t hear, but he didn’t look up. You stopped before him, waiting for him to respond, but he continued to ignore you. You held back an exasperated sigh and tapped his shoulder.

“Dwalin,” He nodded and you snarled, “Would you look at me?”

“What?” He finally raised his head and his eyes bulged. He lost hold of his knife and stone and gripped the arms of the chair tightly. He began to blabber but you couldn’t tell if he was taken back in a good or bad way. “Ada…I, uh,” He stood, careful not to get too close, “What are ye doing?”

“What am I doing?” You spluttered, “I’m trying to be your wife!” You really did want this too and for Dwalin. You wanted to feel him against you, to feel his warm body on yours. To feel some love for the dwarf you had grown rather fond of, even when you knew he didn’t care much for you.

“I…uh, you look, uh…” He gaped as he struggled for words, making your chest tight with regret and sadness.

“Forget it!” You turned and shoved a chair out of your way as you stormed towards the door. You didn’t understand why he was such an arse. He had married you of his own will, so why had he yet to act like it.

You pushed into the corridor, slamming the door and marched up the stone, the air cool against your bare legs. You would have cared about your lack of clothing if it wasn’t for the anger seething within you and tears threatening to break free.

-Dwalins POV-

Dwalin watched Ada as she stomped away from him. The door slammed behind her and she disappeared into the corridor while he tried to sort through his sudden flood of thoughts. He could not fathom why she would have put on such a display and all for him…

He had been certain that she hated him. When they had stood at the altar and he had seen the look in her eyes; dread, resignation, disgust. He had not truly thought out the marriage but instead recklessly listened to that voice in his head which he so often ignored. It had been more to him than a last chance, for at his age he was well past eligibility, but a dream come true, and to the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon. He had fallen in love with her over the years but never had enough courage to even speak to her. She had many suitors after her, and even though she drove them away, he knew he would be the last on her list of men she would ever deem worthy.  He had hoped vowing “I do” would unlock the rest of the words trapped within. All he had wanted to say to her for so long.

Dwalin wondered how he had gone wrong. He had been so hopeful. Yet when he had sat beside Ada and they had dined upon their wedding feast, he could not still his nerves to speak to her. And upon returning to their marital chambers, he was too afraid to lay beside her. He feared he would repulse her, or worse yet, hurt her. He was rough and unskilled in love. Why couldn’t he just speak to her? Why could he not even look at her without trembling? He needed to find his courage. This was his last chance. He had told himself that every night since their wedding but he knew this night it was the truth. If he did not act then, he would lose what he never had the nerve to have. Dwalin stood and focused on steadying his breath as he crossed to the door. He stepped into the corridor and listened to her steps but hard nothing.  He tried to think of where she would go. She was his wife, as unbelievable as that was, and yet he knew little of what filled her days. He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about her. He walked around Erebor, finding her bakery empty, and her mother’s house unlit. He was at a loss, he didn’t know her well enough to know where she would find solitude. Instead, he went to the place he always did when he was restless. There were quite a few secret balconies Erebor held, but one was quite far up the mountain, where no one really bothered to venture. He stood in front of the familiar small door and pushed through and stepped into the night sky. It was quite a wide balcony, with a single bench closer to the edge. The stars and moon were exceptionally bright tonight, and the air had a cold bite. He froze as he heard soft grunts followed by a rock hitting the stone wall, and looked over to see a figure moving about. He’d never seen anyone up here before and made his way over to the small figure, realizing it was Ada. His heart lept out of his chest, seeing her there, throwing rocks rather aggressively at a wall, not noticing him quite yet. After a moment his eye’s adjusted to her frame, which her robe didn’t cover too well. Her pale skin danced in the moonlight, her long hair, swooshed back and forth at her movements, and Dwalin snapped himself out of his trance, focusing on his mission to win her back.

“Ada,” He said quietly, as she jumped and spun around. “We need to talk.”

-Ada’s POV-

The cold air bit at your skin, but you ignored it. Throwing rocks as hard as you could towards the mountain side, trying to rid your feelings with each throw. That was until you heard Dwalin behind you, as you spun around, startled that he found you. Talk. Now he wanted to talk? You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hold in some warmth that hasn’t yet escaped your body.

“I’ve tried talking to you.” You sighed, not able to hold back the pain that you knew took over your features. “I've tried more than talking, time and time agai-” You cut yourself off, feeling as though you were making a fool of yourself.  You could feel your cheeks burning as you recalled the scene.

“How come you get to decide, hmm?” You challenged, walking towards him angrily. You did not even realize you were advancing upon him until you were right before him. You jabbed your finger towards his nose as he stared at you agape, “How come we talk when you say we can? How come I had to chase you around, being the only one trying to make this marriage work? Being the only one who wanted to make this marriage work...”

You were so upset you could not restrain yourself. You shoved his chest and tried to reach the doorway before you started blubbering again, “I am done trying with you, Dwalin.”

“Wait,” He grabbed your arm, not roughly but enough to make you stop, “I’m…sorry.” You turned toward him, a bit taken back by him actually stopping you. You’d thought he’d just let you walk off and not care.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so cold,” He released you, “That I made you think I disliked you. That I made you feel the way I’ve felt my entire life,” He swallowed as he mulled his words, “I’m sorry that I could ever make you feel anything but what you deserve. You deserve to be cherished. To be happy.”

“Wha—” You had barely heard more than five words at a time from the dwarf in the years you had known him. Never had you expected to hear him speak so eloquently and on your behalf.

“Please, Ada,” He looked at your lack of clothing. “Can we go someplace warm?”

You both silently made your way back to his chambers. He didn’t say anything but glanced your way more than once. When you got back to his chambers, the fire had stayed lit and it was rather warm. You stood close to the fire, raising your hands to warm yourself as he slumped into his chair and watched you. You thought about putting more clothes at that moment but was a bit nervous to move under his gaze.

“I’m a coward, Ada.” He admitted as you felt him watching you, “Truly, I…wanted to marry you. I still want to be your husband, Ada, I just—I was so scared. And when I saw you walking down the aisle, you looked scared too, and I thought it was me who frightened you.”

“I don’t understand why you wanted to marry me at all. I’m not even a half-dwarf, I'm just..well I’m not really sure what I am exactly.” You finished with a sad chuckle.

“Lassie, I don’t care what ya are, I don’t want anyone but you. Y-you’re my One, Ada. I fell in love with you the first time I laid my eye’s on you when you arrived at the moutain..” He cheeks got very red, but he held your gaze, trying to make you understand. “I was cold because I-I didn’t want to hurt you. You, you’re so…perfect. I didn’t think I could make you happy and when I looked at you on our wedding day, that pit deepened, and I was even more sure that you were miserable. The last thing I ever want is to make you unhappy, and I am sorry that I did.” He finished.

You held your breath as you replayed his words in your head, wondering if maybe this was a dream. It sounded too good to be true. For this all to be a misunderstanding.To find a husband you longed to have. Someone who cared deeply for you and accepted you inside and out.  You looked at Dwalin’s grey eyes as he stared back, shyly, uncertain.

You sat down in the chair next to Dwalins and hesitantly grabbed his hand. It was rough and very big, but warm and welcoming. He gasped a bit looking down at your hands.  “What do we do now?” You asked gently.

“I was hoping if I’ve not already spoiled it for good, that we could start over?” He proposed, his voice low and brittle, “Let’s just forget about this last week and forget that we’re married. Please, Ada, let me go back and make this right.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the most emotion you had ever witnessed in the bullish dwarf, and you nodded, more to yourself than him.

“Alright, let’s start over again. I would like that very much.” You smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Truly?” Dwalin’s voice was filled with hope, “Alright,” His mouth trembled between a smile and disbelief, “come on, then,” He stood and offered you his burly hand, “Ada, may I have the honor of courting you?”

“Yes.” You smiled in delight, feeling a wholeness in your heart that had never been there before. “Now let’s eat and get some sleep!” Dwalin chuckled as you both sat down and happily ate you cold stew before getting a good nights sleep. Dwalin laid you down gently before laying next to you. He was very shy and nervous but your body ached for his touch, you wanted to feel his warmth, to feel safe in his arms. You turned on your side and pushed your back to his chest, making him freeze for a moment before very gently wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you closer. He sighed quietly, aching for your touch as much as you ached for his. His smell and warmth made your head spin. His body felt so good, it molded to yours perfectly, your mind wondered a bit about wanting more but you were too nervous to initiate anything and felt rather tired after the events that had taken place that day. Dwalin’s soft snores lulled you into a deep sleep you hadn’t gotten in a long time.

The morning came quicker than you would have liked. For the first time in weeks, you had escaped the anxious restlessness which had kept you awake.  You awoke with a groan, stretching the stiffness from the arm you had slept on only to find the other side of the mattress as empty as the days before.  Your chest seized, and you sat up, searching the chamber as you wondered if you had imagined the whole reconciliation. Had you been so desperate for peace that you had conjured the entire scene? It could not have been fantasy, it just couldn’t. Dwalin had been so kind and for once, so real. He had wished you good night and laid you down gently, tucking himself in beside you. No dream could be so compelling. The door jolted open and the sound of glass wobbling preceded Dwalin as he pushed himself awkwardly into the chamber. He held a tray of dishes and perilously balanced the tray towards the table. He set it down as he smiled over at you, overturning the sugar dish as he did.

“I figured we’d start out right this time,” His voice betrayed his nervousness, an uncertainty which belied his usual stoicism, “I’ve taken the day off from the forge…I hope you’ve not any pressing duties.”

“They can wait,” You waved away his worries, sitting down as you tried to accept your new reality, “You have anything in particular in mind?”

“Tell me you don’t mind the snow,” He ventured as he sat across from you, the chair whining beneath his weight.

“Not at all,” You took a hard-boiled egg and cracked it sharply against the edge of your plate, “I rather prefer it. What exactly do you have planned?”

“Bofur’s gotten together a team of mutts,” He shrugged casually but fumbled his fork clumsily, “And a sled. We could go out and explore the forest…is that alright?”

“Perfect,” You swallowed the white of the egg, “There’s a river–”

“By the old caves,” He finished, “I know the very one.”

“Well, I would rather enjoy getting away, that sounds nice.” You smiled warmly at him.  You could still see his hesitation, but it wasn’t so painful knowing then where it stemmed from. In a way, he was a reflection of yourself. Crass and ill-tempered, your emotions enigmatic to all, including you. It would be nice to start over, you thought, but no less difficult than the last week. You bathed quickly, making sure not to get your hair wet, as that wouldn’t be the best idea being outdoors. You brushed your hair quickly, not bothering to do anything then leave it down and dressed in some trousers, a long sleeve shirt, and some outdoor boots. You came out of the bathhouse and saw Dwalin standing by the door who straightened his stance and looked a bit surprised before glancing away with a blush on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You looked down at your shirt thinking there was something on it.

“N-nothing at all,” he stuttered meeting, you gaze. “You look very beautiful is all.”  He smiled, his cheeks turning a shade pinker, and holding out your cloak and mittens towards you.

You smiled, his words filling your stomach with butterflies and making your cheeks hot. You grabbed you things from him and headed out the door with Dwalin behind you, clipping your cloak around your neck. You both made your way outside to the sled as Bofur greeted you both, you thanked him and watched as he ran back inside. It was snowing but wasn’t too cold, the air felt nice on your face as you breathed in the wintery air.

Your husband turned his hand palm up and offered it to you, guiding you through the deep snow towards the sled, “So, my wife,” The title seemed to tremble on his lips, “Am I steering or are you?”

“You know these land better than me,” You set your hands on the bar of the sled, “I’ll allow you the pleasure of getting us lost.”  Dwalin chuckled and stepped up behind you on the footboard, taking the reins in his hands as he gripped the bar next to yours. He was rigid against your back, keeping you firmly in place as he cleared his throat, He called to the dogs and the sled jolted forward, the team settling to a steady pace as they angled you swiftly down the decline.

The snow flew up around you, but you were warmed by Dwalin, his arms keeping the wind off of you. You reached the plain and the dogs quickly met the treeline, your husband pulling at the leather straps to guide them along the winding paths. You closed your eyes as you relinquished yourself to the brisk air and the smell of snow. The sled slowed as the path grew less bumpy and you opened your eyes to the shimmering ice of the river, frozen before a perfectly rounded cave, its mouth carved with ancient khuzdul script. Dwalin tied the reins firmly and stepped off the sleigh, offering you his hand once more. You took it as you nearly slipped off the board and let him guide you towards the water's edge

“So, what exactly did you intend?” You asked as you bent over the river, gazing at your blurred reflection.

“Well, I’ve yet to weigh the sense in it,” He released your gloved hand and stepped back, watching you as you smiled at the ice, “Though I could as easily just sit and watch you for the day.”

Your cheeks colored as you stood straight and looked at his own flushed appearance, his words seemingly of their own accord. He cleared his throat again, a tic you surmised came with anxiety. The corners of his lips quivered, and he gazed away awkwardly, rolling his shoulders as if to strengthen himself.

“Promise me you’ll not let me drown,” He sighed and reached out his thickly booted foot, letting it hover over the ice before bringing it down upon the surface.

Dwalin stepped out onto the river’s icy hood, his second foot coming down with trepidation, the ice showing no crack or crease. He walked further until he was nearly in the middle of the water and he breathed out with relief. He turned back to you and a genuine smile curled his lips. “Come on then,” He waved to you, “Don’t slip.”

You slowly edge onto the ice, your boots sliding as your arms flapped for balance Dwalin’s soles skated across the surface as he neared to steady you, taking your arm as he led you around the perimeter of the river. After one lap, you gained your bearings and soon you were skimming over the frozen water with ease, giggling as you kept hold of your husband. You had not felt so cheerful since your childhood. Long ago. You both skidded around for a while laughing and conversing about nothing special. Just as though you had your balance under control, your feet betrayed you and you were about to fell back before Dwalin quickly wrapped a large arm around your waist and pulled you to his chest as a gasp escaped your lips. You chuckled as he held you there and looked up to meet his gaze. There was something in his eye’s, something that made your heart warm as he looked at you. You hesitated for a second but quickly pushed your lips to his. Dwalin didn’t take any time to push back, and he wrapped both arms around you and pulled you closer, kissing you passionately like he’d waited for so long to do. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave back the same passion. His lips were warm against yours, and your kiss became a bit more forceful as lust started to flow through every inch of your body. You wanted him more than anything in that moment and he wanted the same. He forced his tongue inside you, kissing more forcefully as he picked you up and let you wrap your legs around his torso.

“Dwalin.” You moaned as you broke for air, both of you panting heavily. “I want you.” You whispered.

His eyes grew a shade darker, as you took in his lust and need for you. It made a warmth pool in your lower stomach. He didn’t say anything but didn’t take any time to carry you over to the sled and steer the dogs quickly back to Erebor. You both walked through the halls back to his chambers quicker than normal. He slid his key into his door forcefully and pushed the door open. He walked in behind you and slammed the door before pushing you against the wall and smashing his lips to yours, you wrapping your arms around him and pulling his as close as you could. He quickly kicked his boots off and unclipped his cloak not breaking the kiss as he reached down and threw your boots off to the side, along with your mittens and cloak. He was quick and graceful and before you had time to comprehend anything he lifted you on the wall, allowing your legs to wrap around him tightly. You ran your fingers through his hair as he slipped his tongue inside you, making you moan at the sensation and the sweet taste of your husband. He pushed his hips into yours, earning a low growl from his chest. He set you back on your feet, breaking away from your mouth only to quickly unlace your shirt and shove your pants down your legs. It only took him a few seconds before you looked at your naked body in front of him, he had a look of awe and possession that made you want him to take you right there on the cold wall. You nipples pebbled in the cool air before you gasped as rough hands cupped you, pushing his lips back on yours, forcing his tongue inside you once more, before trailing down your neckline, making you moan at his touch. Your skin was on was on fire under his touch as you gave yourself to him.  You moaned huskily as his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking strongly. His tongue moved over you, racking and flicking you. It was enough to drive you mad. You wanted more. You wanting his mouth and hands everywhere on your body, stroking you until you were weak with desire. His fingers started skimming over your skin, making you shiver in pleasure. His hands stopped at your hips as he gripped them harshly in need, making you moan at the sensation. His mouth left your breast, as he knelt at your feet.  You opened and looked down to meet his gaze, heat pooling in your cheeks as you saw the heat and lust in his gaze which you were sure you mirrored. You cried out and he looked away and ran his racked his tongue over you. Your lips slowly rocked as he licked you again, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit. His hands were still holding your hips tightly, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your skin as he held you exactly where he wanted you. Your legs trembles as his lips closed around you,  as you reached down and fisted his hair,  tugging him closer. He growled and it had you crying out again as the sound vibrated through you, making your pleasure soar. One of his hands slid down your thigh, his nails lightly scraping your skin. Your rose on your toes when his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers stroking your wet folds.

“So wet just for me..” He groaned, making you moan and push your hips toward his touch. Your breath caught as he slowly slid his finger inside of you. “Mahal....you’re tight..” He growled as he slid his finger back out and then in again, earning a moan from your lips with each movement. Whimpering as he curled his finger, your knees trembled as he rubbed that sensitive spot inside of you. A broken moan escaped you as he ran his tongue over your clit and slid another finger inside of you, getting you ready for him to take you. He licked your clit and thrust his fingers inside of you, the pleasure making your blood burn and heart pound. You tightened around him as he built you up and you were about to explode.

“Dwalin.” You moaned, your hips pushing forward to meet his thrusts. His other hand moved from your hip and pressed against your belly, holding you in place against the wall. He kept you pinned as he pleasured you, tongue and fingers both working the hot flesh between your thighs. You breaths became short, tugging against him again, as you focused on the orgasm that was building inside you. His name echoed through the room as he sent you tumbling over the edge. You trembled against the wall as he didn’t move, his mouth and hands milking every last drop of passion that they could from you. He realized you finally, standing up and taking a step back. You breathed heavily, watching his eye’s rake up and down your body.

“Take me,” You said, staring him down, thinking about him filling you once more.

His growl made your muscles clench as he surged back towards you, pinning you to the wall as he claimed your mouth. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pressing fully against him. You felt his hands move down your body as they clamped around your waist. He lifted you and you wrapped your legs around him. You pulled him close, a moan escaping your lips as you felt his erection press against you. He thrust into you, making desire scorch through you once again. He slid one hand between you, unbuttoning his pants enough to release his full erection. He moved his hand back to your waist giving you space to reach down and grip his erection, earning a hiss from him. You pushed him against your entrance and let go as your head rolled back against the wall when he slid inside you slowly. His slow pace made you squirm as he sank inside of you, your muscles clutching around him. His forehead pressed against yours as a low, please noise left him and he stayed there for a moment.

“Dwalin.” You moaned, squirming some more.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He whispered.

Please Dwalin, you won’t!” You said feverishly, pushing against him impatiently.

His hips pulled back and slammed into yours, making you see stars. A whimper escaped your lips as he started thrusting hard into you. You clenched around him, feeling every in of him thrust inside of you as he took you. Moans spilled from your lips as he took you roughly against the wall, the harsh pace exactly what you were craving. Your legs tightened around him, pulling him closer and spurring him on. Both hands gripped the cloth covering his shoulders, holding on for everything you were worth as he drove you towards oblivion. His hot breath fell against your neck as he pressed rough kisses to your skin, his teeth scraping against you as he bit you lightly among the kisses. Soft curses were leaving him as he pounded into you, pleasure clouding all of your senses. You moaned his name as you felt your orgasm building, melting from the heat he was throwing off and from the desire rolling through you. He groaned deeply, teeth closing around your neck again.

“Dwalin!” You said, letting him know he was pushing you over the edge, but it was too close for the warning. A cry escaped you as waves of pleasure came crashing through you.

“Mahal!” Dwalin groaned, feeling your muscles clench around him.

Waves of pleasures kept flooding through you with every thrust when you felt a low groan rumble over your body as he thrust hard into you, his hips grinding against yours as you felt him shutter. His hand's tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise as he pulled you good and tight to him. Finally, he slumped on you, holding you between him and wall. You looped your arms around his neck, panting softly and feeling completely dazed. It was a long time before he pulled back to meet your gaze. Your heart warmed, as you stared into his loving eyes, and his lips quirked up into a small smile.

“What?” You said, a smile forming on yours.

“I love you, Ada.” He said, a blush appearing on his cheeks.

“I love you, Dwalin.” Butterflies filling your stomach. You truly did, after everything, you had fallen in love quickly with the burly dwarf. He filled an empitness inside of you that you didn’t know was empty.

-3 years later-

It had been a couple years since you and Dwalin had married. After that day, Dwalin and you took off the rest of the week and mostly spent the time not leaving the bed. You talked and laughed, and had gotten to know each other inside and out. Dwalin was very concerned about him growing older and you staying as young as ever because elves are immortal, but you didn’t care, you would rather live heartbroken after he died, than not spend this time you had with him. He was your one true love.

You wabbled down the hall after a long day selling your sweets, towards a new bigger home you and Dwalin had purchased about a year ago. You held a basket in one hand and held your bulging belly with the other as you made your way through the crowd to your home. You opened the door to find Dwalin moving about the kitchen and you daughter, Era yapping on about the day she had in her lessons. She saw you first and throw herself towards the door.

“Ma!” She lept into your arms, as you picked up the tiny girl and held her close. Dwalin spun around and beamed at the sight of you. He walked over, wrapping you both in his arms and pressed a large hand to your belly.

“My wife.” He greeted, kissing your cheek.

[sanversinsane]

Meeting Maggie's Mom

[notnaturalanahi]

What Love Is

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester x Not-wife!Reader, Ophelia (OC), Calliope (OC) and some others.

Word count: 2149

Warnings: Fluff, bit of angst, cheating shhhnotreallyshhh, FLUFF!!

A/N: 

Here’s a little something I wrote sometime ago, the idea for this fic came from my amazing sister @nadiandreu7 and it was betad my babe @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname 

Song: ‘I wanna know what love is’ by Foreigner

[Feedback is love!]

“Boop” Dean bumps the tiny nose of your little 3 year-old after placing her on the shopping cart’s kid space, a smile tugs your lips as she laughs.

It’s Saturday, time for the weekly family trip to the market, you stroll up and down the aisles, Dean kisses you tenderly on the lips before disappearing on the opposite direction; something that happens all the time. With your two lovely daughters, Calliope; an energetic 3 years old and Ophelia; the 6 year old Disney princess obsessed, you continue your way through the cereal aisle.

Distracted by your girl's argument about who’s better Tiana or Rapunzel you catch a glimpse, a sight of you partner… or boyfriend; it’s really weird to refer to Dean as your boyfriend at this stage. Let’s face it, after 10 years and two kids, he’s definitely more than a boyfriend. But you can’t quite call him your husband. You are not married. Sometimes, jokingly you refer to him as the father of your children and although it is funny, it feels wrong somehow.

Just to be clear, is not that you’re desperate to get married, you just want him to want to marry you.

With Ophelia walking besides the cart, you decide to take a turn and scare him, to have a little laugh at his expense. But when the squeaky wheel of the card slowed down for you can ambush your pray you see it. You see him, by the fruit and veggies talking. No, flirting with the slutty stock girl!

Young and blonde, tanned, flawless, long up-to-her-neck legs under her jean shorts. Crop top, showing the flat stomach, jiggling a little sparkly jewelry from her navel. Perfect tits at the right height and bouncy golden curls framing a white smile. You know, well you’re certain he never even once cheated on you, and to be honest you flirt too once in awhile, so being mad at him for it is a bit hypocrite of you, but you never do it around him or your kids!

You try and take a deep breath, slowly backing away to keep crossing out items on your mental list when you notice something. Dean moves his body leaning over her, hiding the suspicious movements as she writes down some scribble on a small piece of paper. She passes the little note to him and he folds it and puts it on the front pocket of his flannel.

‘MOTHER FUCKER!’ Your brain stops working and you scream internally.

Your heart sinks to your stomach and the digestion process starts right away. You feel your blood boil inside of your body. All you want to do is walk towards them and kick the shit out of Dean after you smack the stupid smile from the blonde’s face. Instead you turn around and take your oblivious daughters with you to finish with the shopping, cursing yourself for driving in Dean’s car instead of yours so you can ditch him there.  

You refuse to make a public scene and put your girls through a ill situation.

A slight tug on your shirt, snaps you out of your trance, Ophelia’s holding a plastic tray with cherries on her hands “Mommy can we get this and make a pie? Pleaaassssse!!” She pleads, big green puppy eyes and a wide grin on her beautiful face.

You push everything inside and clear your throat. “Sure baby, put it in the cart.”

Quickly you go around the store picking the rest of the stuff needed and head for the register, where Dean meets you less that five minutes after.

“Finished, already?” He leans forward, the way you just saw him do it with Miss ‘Perky Tits’, to peck your lips the way he always does, but you don’t meet him halfway as usual, you don’t even look at him and turn your face to the side.

“The faster we go home, the faster we make a pie!” Ophelia chimes in, breaking the awkward moment.

“And eat pie!!” Callie adds. Your frown disappears as you look down at your daughters.

As the stupid-in-training-cashier takes twice as normal to scan your items you do your best to avoid Dean’s eyes and touch, each time his hand goes to softly squeeze your neck or caress your back or arm you discreetly shrug away and you know he’s wondering what the hell is going on.

The ride back home is silent, but not that normal comfortable silence, the tension is palpable. You can feel his eyes on you each time he stops on a red light. You sigh everytime that happens and keep looking out the window, to lose yourself in your thought.

He took her number… he took it! What the fuck was that about? What does that mean? Is he cheating on me, is he planning to? You jump in your seat at the feel of rough, warm knuckles at your flexing jaw.

Turning around, you glower at him and your hard stare is reciprocated with a shy smile and pleading eyes. You force yourself not to react to it, giving him nothing but a straight bitch face, and pulling away from him when his hand lands lovingly on your thigh. He’s shocked by your reaction and looks back to the road.

You know he’s dying to know what’s going on, what went wrong; perhaps it was something he did… but he won’t ask, not now because of the girls and not later because he’ll forget.

He parks in front of the garage, the girls run into the house once you set them free from their seats, and the both of you gather the shopping bags from the trunk, never once making eye contact.

Inside the house you drop everything in the kitchen island and make yourself busy by putting everything away.

“Sweetheart?” Dean’s right behind you taking the box of cereal from your hand, as you stand on your tiptoes to put it on the top shelf of the cupboard, you drop your hands to your sides and sigh. “I-I need to- to run a little errand. Um.. Be right back. Ok?” His hands go to your waist and your eyes shut tight. Pushing the tears back. You won’t cry because of him!

“Whatever.” The words slipped through clenched and you don’t turn around until he’s out of the house and you hear the engine of the impala roar to life.

You’re ready to break, your lungs burn and the tears prickle your eyes when a little voice interrupts you. “Mommy?”

Looking down you see your youngest, concern in her little features. “Are you okay, mommy? You look sad.”

“What you say if we start on that pie now?” You sniff and smile at her, kneeling to be almost at the same height.

She nods, shiny sandy blond strands of hair wave around her face. “Call your sister then.”

Dinner's almost ready and the pie in the oven when you hear his car coming up the driveway. The keys rattle at the front door. “Daddy!” The girls greet him as you set the table.

“We made pasta!” Ophelia shouts

“And pie!” Callie laughs.

“Yum!” You roll your eyes and drown the glass of merlot,  you bought specifically for sunday lunch when Sam’s gonna introduce you all to his girlfriend, Jessica.

Dean and the girls talk about their day and you stare at your plate, picking the spaghetti with your fork and rolling it around, pouring a second then a third and a fourth glass of red.

“Don’tcha think three is enough?” You look up from the burdeaux drop sliding down the stem and round foot

“Don’tcha think you should just fuck off!” The words spilled from your lips before you can hold them back and think of another thing to say. All eyes set  on you and your own jaw drops.

“Mommy said a bad word.” Callie giggles.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie! You should never repeat what mommy just said. ok?” You look at both your daughters and smile. “Mommy shouldn’t said them in the first place.”

Again, you avoid Dean’s eyes until the meal is over and you ask him, well you kinda order him to help the girls clean themselves up and get them ready for bed. Promising then a goodnight kiss once you’re done with the dishes.

A little lightheaded you put on some music, maybe a bit too loud, but after almost an entire bottle of wine, you don’t really care and just hum along old ballads from the mixtape Dean made for you for your one month anniversary, the tape got stuck on the stereo a couple of years ago and you never bother to take it out.

Suddenly there’s the melody, is your song playing, the one Dean played on the background on that fourth date, the first time he said I love you. And then played on a loop as you made love all night.

‘I gotta take a little time

A little time to think things over

I better read between the lines

In case I need it when I'm older’

You sing the words out loud, rinsing the foam from the plates, your mind going through a decade of memories and you still can’t believe he’s about to throw everything away for an easy lay.

Opening your mouth you’re ready to sing the chorus when a deep raspy voice surprises you singing it first.

‘I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me’

You turn around to see Dean standing on one knee, both of your daughters standing next to him, with big grins on their faces.

“What- You’re supposed to be in bed.” Wet, trembling fingers go to turn off the stereo.

“Y/N.” Dean speaks and pulls a small, black box from the front pocket of his jeans. You’re taken aback and lean on the edge of the sink, a hand crawls up to your mouth. This is what you secretly wanted, for the past 8 years.

“Excuse me!” You push past him and walk out of the kitchen, you can’t. After what you say today you won’t say yes to him.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Dean’s right beside you on the living room.

“Are you serious, Dean!?” Aware of your daughters in the next room you lower your voice. “I saw at the market, today. She gave you her number and you took it!” Your finger pokes at his chest.

“And I’m sure you went back to meet up with her, didn’t you?” You wipe a stranded tear from your cheek and he smiles at you.

“Y/N,” He chuckles.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

“Sweetheart, that was Jess. Sam’s Jess?”

“So you’re not only cheating on me, but on your brother as well?”

“No, babe. Look,.” He digs in his pocket and hands you the piece of paper you saw from afar. “Is her uncle’s address. He-he owns the jewelry store. It was closed today, so she talk to him so I could go pick this at his house.” Dean opens the box to show you a small silver ring, an infinity sign inlaid with tiny diamonds.

“I-I know you said you don’t like diamonds, but I saw it and I knew I had to give it you.” Dean smiles down at you, wiping another tear with his thumb.

“So you-you’re not sleeping with her?”

“No!” He snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you flush to him. “Honey, I have slept with only one person for the last almost ten years, and I plan on keep it that way till the day I die.”

With the hand around you he holds the box and takes the ring out, you give him your left hand and he puts the right in its rightful place. “This is forever, sweetheart.”

His warm lips touch yours and you give into him. Your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as your feet leave the floor.

“Eww.” Soft giggles make you both look to the side to see your daughters poking their little head from the door frame.

“C’mere.” You call for them once Dean sets you down.

“You guys knew about this?”

Ophelia nods and grins.“Daddy gave us ice-cream so we promise we wouldn’t say.”

You pick her in your arm and place her on your hip while Dean does the same with Callie. “Are we gonna have the baby now?” She asks and you eyes widen.

“What, no. sweetie,” Dean boops her nose, “momy and daddy are just getting married, what-”

“But mommy said, she had a baby in her belly the other day!” Callie insists and Dean turns to look at you.

“In my defence, I just gave her pizza to keep the secret.”

tags: @nadiandreu7 @winchesters-princess @purgatoan @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @thegreatficmaster @death2thevirgin @mogaruke @isis278 @marygracewinchester @lbug1025 @babypieandwhiskey @impala-dreamer @authoressskr @fangirl1802 @ria132love @policeofficerdean @donnaintx @feelmyroarrrr @just-another-busy-fangirl @love-kittykat21 @thanithlowisabamf @emilyymichelle @goldenangelbloodcastiel 

@deathtonormalcy56 

Jensen/Dean: @dancingalone21 @anokhi07 @leather-moccasin-hero @hunterintraining1967 @deansbaekaz2y5 @missmotherhen @kaitlynmarie1120 

Pond (Dean-fluff)  @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @bkwrm523 @salvachester @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @samsgoddess  @wildfirewinchester @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @for-the-love-of-dean @mysupernaturalfics @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @fiveleaf @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @ilovedean-spn2 @jpadjackles @quiddy-writes @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @revwinchester  @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @mysaintsasinner @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @inmysparetime0 @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh

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