#again the red and grey is fine but like..... god the hood was so perfect imo. (voice of a guy who's definitely not biased at all)

[violentlydefending]

majima and damian for the character opinion bingo as prompted by @/artsy-dragoness and @/maxmmpow :]

(ASTERISK ASTERISK: i only really like dami's traffic light outfit the current red and grey is fine but also. is it)

[btxtreads]

Hero

CHAPTER SIX: STARSTRUCK (PART A)

↳ Pairing: Kang Taehyun x Reader

↳ word count: 1.7k words

↳ rating: G

↳ genre: beomgyu and y/n are the cutest besties, taehyun hits someone with a door, y/n gets a possible concussion but nothing too big lmao, txt is stressedt

Y/N rolled her eyes as the car rolled into the cafe parking. Youra’s squeals punctured her eardrums as she moved to change to steeper heels. The younger can only shake her head as she tugged on her jacket and pulled the car door open.

“I’ll be here waiting for my friend,” Y/N explained, pointing towards the cafe. “I’ll just hang here until you finish. Please don’t be embarrassing.”

“If anything, you’re the embarrassing one for being in the vicinity of legends but not knowing who they are.” Youra explained. “Who is it you’re going to meet again?”

“Gyuu.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He was over almost everyday.” Y/N raised her eyebrow.

“Oh, your little boyfriend?” Youra asked, retouching her lipstick. “I thought his name way Beoji.”

“What?” Y/N scrunched her eyebrows, tilting her head as Youra strutted away from her and towards the club. “Who the hell is Beoji?”

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes once more as she entered the cafe. She took a seat at the farthest corner of the cafe, pulling up her phone at the resounding ding that came from it. She smiled at the text sent to her by her oldest, bestest friend.

Kkyu 🤠: Y/Nieeeee i’m almost there ❤️ 10 minutes tops

On the other side of the street, right behind the massive building housing what would be the biggest party of the month, was a bright red sports car rolling to a stop. A head of fluffy brown hair jumped out of the driver’s seat.

“Clear.” His deep voice called, pulling out his phone and checking the time. “You can come out now, and can we hurry. Y/N’s waiting for me.”

“Just a bit more, hyung.” Taehyun whined. “In and out.”

“What’s the plan again?” Beomgyu asked, pocketing his phone and switching jackets with the younger boy.

“You meet your friend, I go in. Soobin-hyung and Yeonjun-hyung are inside to help me backstage and get in and out, Kai will distract the paps while I move in and out. It’s flawless.” Taehyun explained as he pulled up the grey hood over his head.

“I don’t know, Tae.” Beomgyu sighed, pulling out his phone once more and quirking his lips at the message. “She’s waiting for me, and they’re waiting for you. Entrance is over there, are you sure this will work?”

“I’m positive, hyung.” Taehyun grinned as he pulled the backstage door open. “Good luck on your date!”

Beomgyu grinned as he fired up the ignition of the car once more, grinning up at Taehyun with a roll of the eyes.

“She’s my best friend!”

Y/N widened her eyes as Beomgyu entered the cafe, ruffling his fluffy brown hair. The boy’s figure was almost swallowed by an expensive black leather jacket, his brown eyes gazing around as he fidgeted with the newest model of a popular luxury-brand phone in his hands.

“Gyuu?”

The boy’s eyes snapped away from the menu as soon as he heard that familiar voice he’d recognize anywhere. A bright smile popped up in his face as he bounded over, giggling as Y/N stood up from her chair—opening her arms. Beomgyu laughed, engulfing her in a bear-hug in return.

“Oh my fucking god, I missed you!” Beomgyu exclaimed as he squeezed her tighter.

“Dude, you’re telling me—you were like my only friend!” Y/N laughed, pulling away and squishing his cheeks between her hands. “Look at you—you look so good!”

“Y/N, I’ve always looked good.”

“Still the narcissist.” Y/N snorted as Beomgyu pecked her cheek like he always used to do before plopping down on the chair across from her. “You got me coffee?”

“Yeah, it’s the one you used to always order. Did I get it wrong?”

“It’s perfect. Thanks, babe.” Beomgyu laughed, ruffling her hair. “How’ve you been?”

“Exhausted, really.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I told Youra I was going to meet you today and she said your name was Beoji.”

Beomgyu chuckled in amusement as the girl’s eyes flew towards the giant LED screen propped up outside the club—projecting Taehyun’s performance out to the public. At the sight of this, Beomgyu winced. So much for hiding.

“Kang Taehyun, huh?” Y/N wondered out loud. “I wonder how he is in real life?”

Beomgyu’s lips quirked as he took a sip from his drink.

“I wouldn’t know.” Beomgyu shrugged. “You really don’t like him, huh?”

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just I don’t know him enough to like or dislike him.” Y/N shrugged. “I mean his songs are good, and he is easy on the eyes—I just don’t get people worship his entire existence—or TXT, for that matter.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get that.” Beomgyu smiled in relief.

“It’s just if I form opinions on a person, I want that opinion to be based on facts—the actual facts, not the facts I see on TV.” Y/N shrugged. “Truth matters. The objective truth.”

“That’s my Y/N.” Beomgyu laughed, ruffling her hair once more—making the girl giggle.

Just like old times.

Unfortunately, the old times were him and her hanging out in different restaurants around their small town—unnoticed by many. This time, unbeknownst to Y/N, her best friend was a world-famous Youtube Star, part of the local industry’s flower boys. People were bound to notice them now—and they were.

This was why Beomgyu stood up and pulled her over.

“We should take a walk. Cafe’s getting kind of stuffy.” Beomgyu suggested, making the girl grin. “I also have a few friends around here, let me introduce you guys.”

“I’d love to meet your friends!” Y/N nodded excitedly, picking up her bag and locking arms with the boy.

Beomgyu pulled her outside and led her towards his car, making the girl’s jaw drop. At first, she wasn’t really believing—not until the boy fished for a set of keys in his pocket and opened the car doors himself, gently leading her in.

“This is your car?”

“Yeah!” Beomgyu laughed. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“How—I—“

“Y/N, there’s something you should know about me.” Beomgyu admitted, smiling shyly at the girl as he pulled out of the parking lot and moved back to the club. “I’m kind of famous? I go on Youtube a lot, sing sometimes—weird videos and all that.”

The girl’s jaw dropped, blinking over at him.

“We’re here, come on.” Beomgyu laughed as he parked again, having covered the short distance between the cafe and the club. “Let me show you my friends.”

“Wait—so, you’re friends with TXT?”

“Kind of,” Beomgyu laughed. “I am TXT.”

Y/N gasped, eyes wide as she opened her mouth to respond. Before she could, the door swung open—hitting her square at the back of her head. Beomgyu panicked, dropping down on his knees to assist the girl.

“Tae, what the hell!” Beomgyu hissed as Taehyun’s eyes frantically shifted around.

“Hyung, the paps found me!”

“No shit,” Y/N groaned on the floor. “You were literally on the gigantic LED screen outside a few minutes ago.”

Taehyun’s frantic eyes fell onto the girl on the floor, who was groaning as she massaged the back of her head.

“You okay?”

“It just hurtsa little, but I’m fine, Gyuu.”

Three more tall boys file out of the backstage door. The tallest one with black hair tilted his head at the scene.

“Who’s this, Gy—“

“Hyung, who the hell is this?!” Taehyun exclaimed, voice panicked.

Beomgyu looked up at Taehyun, eyes equally panicked as the other blonde boy whose name she didn’t know looked distressed. The pink-haired and black-haired boy only shared an exasperated look.

“Why did you hit her with a door?!” Beomgyu exclaimed.

“I didn’t mean to!” Taehyun exclaimed back before turning to Y/N with a frantic expression. “Ma’am, I’ll give you backstage passes to my next concert if you don’t scream! I’m just a normal person, please!”

Y/N sighed, glaring up at the boy as Beomgyu helped her up.

“You okay, Y/N-ie?”

“I’m fine, Gyuu.” Y/N shot the boy a quick grin before rolling her eyes at the frantic pop star. “And no thank you, Mr. Superstar. I’m not interested in your backstage passes. Thank you very much.”

Beomgyu turned back to Taehyun with accusatory eyes.

“You murdered my best friend!”

“I’m still alive.” Y/N mumbled back as she shook her head, freezing as a nauseating feeling came to her. “Gyuu?”

“Yeah, babe?”

She then turned and puked on the floor, making Beomgyu spiral into another fit of panic as she held her hair back.

“Oh my god, you killed her!” Beomgyu screamed at Taehyun.

“She’s fine!”

“No, she’s dying!” The tall, blonde boy by the door whispered in horror, shaking Taehyun’s arm.

“I’m okay.” Y/N mumbled, swaying in her spot as Beomgyu stabilized her.

It was at this moment that the two other boys sighed exchanging another look before the pink-haired one approached Beomgyu and the girl, helping her up. The black-haired boy crossed his arms.

“The puking might mean concussion.” The boy said. “You two, Tae, Gyu—Take her to the hospital.”

“But, Soobin-hyung!” Taehyun complained, eyes pleading. “I have to go home—the party for my movie deal that my parents threw—the directors—“

“Tae, you hit Beomgyu’s childhood best friend with a heavy metal door and now she’s puking and can’t stand properly.” The pink haired boy replied, pulling open Beomgyu’s car door. “Take her to the hospital now.”

“Beomgyu, my head hurts.” Y/N whimpered, making Beomgyu panic again.

“My best friend is dying in my hands!”

“Yeah, Beomgyu’s being dramatic and can’t drive.” the pink-haired boy mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Go.”

“We’ll take it from here.” They reassured, grinning at Taehyun before turning. “We’ll see you at your parents’ party!”

The other boys left, leaving a groaning Y/N, a frantic Beomgyu and a stressed-out Taehyun alone. Taehyun sighed, groaning in stress as he entered the car once more, eyeing the girl and started the engine.

“Don’t puke in the car.” He sighed, turning on the navigator. “Siri, where’s the nearest hospital?”

[junicai]

shivers.

| order no. | 2/21

| summary | Aria suffers the consequences of her own actions when she takes it upon herself to continue filming when sick.

| word count | 1.4k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. February 2020

Music videos are an extension of the song they portray. They are designed to emphasize and carry out any underlying messages that the songwriters have embedded in the lyrics - to give them more meaning, and to make them easier to spot and understand.

Rain rooms were a common enough feature in shooting a music video; especially with the rising popularity of heartbroken ballads in the western media. These songs were typically sung by crooning women, clad scantily in sheer white fabric that clung to their figures wetly, drenched by the water that rained from the ceiling above.

Aria was no such exception.

The thin, flimsy material of the cotton dress she’d been given to wear for this shot was going to provide her little to no barrier against the frigid water that was going to be pouring down her back in a little over three minutes.

With a final pat of a large blush brush dusting over the apples of her cheeks, she was set free from the make-up chair and ushered towards the set. A singular table was set against a grey backdrop, the ceiling dry for the time being.

With her hair roots suitably shook up for volume by a stylist's nimble fingers, Aria made her way to sprawl herself as daintily as she could over the fake wood while still trying to retain a modicum of her own decency.

With her head flung back, and her eyes closed, a shutter sounded, and the skies opened.

In reality, it couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds, nothing more than to just get her used to the feeling, but Aria resurfaced gasping, sitting back up with eyes squinted closed as she had to refrain herself from wiping the water away - less she rub the mascara into her skin.

"God that felt like I was being waterboarded."

Her comment sent a wave of laughter around the room, giggles coming from the corner where the cameras were set up.

A small tremor ran down her spine, but Aria hid it quickly with a cough and a shift in her sitting position. Her now wet dress stuck uncomfortably to her legs, and she grimaced at the cool feel on her skin.

"Ok! Let's run it again." The director's call came from the opposite side of the room, where she was stood behind a monitor, watching carefully.

Aria nodded dutifully, and moved back to her sprawled position again; this time taking more care to not lie in such a way that left her face overly exposed to the downpour.

They took the clip, six, maybe seven times.

The first few were stopped midway due to positioning changes, and the next one because she coughed lightly after choking on the water when it ran into her mouth by accident.

By the time filming came to a close, Aria was cold, and wet, and miserable. She had started shaking profusely the second she'd slid herself off the table, bare feet meeting the tiled flooring and toes curling at the biting feeling.

Her lips had taken on a blue tinge beneath the red rouge that had rubbed off over the duration of the last hour, and her fingertips mirrored that colour as they moved frantically up and down her biceps to try and put some heat back into her frigid skin.

Aria was still quivering lightly in the oversized jacket when she stepped out of the van and back into the dorms, toeing off her shoes at the entrance before immediately making her way into the kitchen.

A warm cup of tea to cradle between her icy fingertips sounded perfect, exactly what she needed. But unfortunately, her plans were thwarted by a rather tall man leaning against the counter top.

Johnny took one look at Aria's now almost purple lips, and raised an eyebrow.

"So do we need to go find someone who's been wearing blue lipstick? Or is that just the latest trend that I've missed?" He teased, pushing himself to wrap Aria in a hug.

She sank willingly into his embrace, curling up against his chest in an attempt to chase the warmth that he offered. "N-no, I'm just. C-cold. That's all."

Johnny tilted his head down to look at Aria without pushing her away. "You feel like a little icicle."

"M'cold." She whined, increasing in pitch when Johnny stepped away from her. "No! Come b-back you're warm."

He chuckled at her when she pulled the collar of her jacket up to her nose to retain the whisper of body heat that he'd given her. "Two seconds, Ari. I'm just going to get Tae."

Aria's head snapped up. "Why?"

"Because we've had conversations about not speaking up when you're uncomfortable during filming before, but apparently we're going to need to have another one. And, he can make better tea than I can."

Aria winced. "C-can it not, not wait? Til, t-tomorrow maybe?"

Johnny's eyes softened when he looked at her small form. She'd pulled the hood over her ears to hide her still damp hair prior to entering the dorm, but the small beads of moisture on her forehead were telling of a growing fever that came inevitably from being doused in freezing water for an hour.

"I'll see what I can do, kiddo. No promises though."

With that, he disappeared into the hallway, and Aria wandered her way into the living room where she plopped herself onto the couch and tugged a cushion into her lap to cuddle.

Stupid body getting cold and getting her in trouble. Stupid. Should have just warmed her up again. Stupid homoeostasis, or whatever it was. It was stupid.

A hand landed on her shoulder, stroking softly. "Hey, ice baby."

Aria tilted her head back towards Yuta's gently smiling face. "M'cold." She repeated, scooching over on the couch to make room for the man to sit down.

Yuta opened his arms in invitation, and Aria went willingly, burrowing herself in his chest. She sighed lightly at the warm comfort that his hoodie material offered, and pressed her cheek against his arm.

A clink of a mug alerted to Aria that there was someone - no, two people - in the kitchen, and soon after, Taeyong emerged with a steaming mug of tea in his hands with Jaehyun trailing after him, arms laden with blankets.

"T-thank y-you," Aria's teeth were chattering at this point, and Taeyong looked on in worry. A back of a hand was placed to her forehead, and he winced.

"Hyuck, would you mind grabbing the red pill bottle from the cabinet under the sink? The one that's full, Doyoung restocked it a couple days ago."

Donghyuck moved back into the hallway with an affirmative, and Aria looked up to Taeyong. "I don't, m'not sick. Just c-cold. I'll be f-fine."

Mark slid into the open space on the other side of Aria, placing a hand on her leg. "Love you, and everything. But shut up."

He received a thin glare from Yuta for his words. "She's sick, don't be rude."

"I said I loved her!"

"And then you told her to shut up!"

"M'not sick."

Taeil emerged from the doorway waving his hands with Donghyuck following quickly behind him. "I have medication for the invalid?"

"M'not sick!"

Yuta hushed her, tucking her head back into his chest. "We know, baby. You're not sick. But you're going to drink your tea and take a fever reducer and then go to bed okay?"

"But-"

"You can sleep in my room!" Jungwoo chirped up from the oppisite couch. Honestly, Aria didn't know when he had arrived, didn't know when half of the people in the room had arrived, but all of a sudden, she was surrounded by all the members of 127.

Aria shrunk back slightly with all of their eyes on her.

"M'not sick." Her voice was weak; a final hurrah.

"Here." Doyoung handed her the mug of tea that had cooled slightly. "Drink your tea."

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

[lovelylexipedia]

I would love a jackson avery x reader fic where the reader is pregnant and jackson is running around after her at the hospital to make sure she isn’t putting too much pressure on herself so he takes her to the on-call room for a rest and it’s really fluffy because he talks to her belly? i’m sorry if this was really long! welcome to tumblr!🥰❤️

Rest is For The Weak – Jackson Avery x Fem! Reader

Type: Imagine (2,200+ words)

Requested: Yes! by @elljmaybank

Summary: Expecting her to stay home, Jackson leaves his pregnant wife home alone to go to work. When he catches her at the hospital, he does everything in his power to get her to stop and relax.

Warning(s): Grey's Spoilers, Fluff (lots of it!), Protective Figure, minor Angst

Note(s): Reader is 30 weeks along with Jackson's baby. Thank you for the request! I really hope I did it justice. I kinda rushed it at the end, but I hope it's okay :)

———

I hear the bathroom door close slowly and scrunch up my face. I try to fall back asleep, but the small noises throughout Jackson and my's bedroom keep me from it. After a while, I let out a small yawn and open my eyes, blinking to adjust to the light coming in from the rising sun.

I make an attempt to sit up in bed, but my back protests, sore and achey. I let out a small groan and catch Jackson's face pop out from behind his closet's doorframe.

"Y/n, crap, did I wake you?" Jackson winces, taking quiet steps toward my side of the bed.

"No no no, my back is just killing me, this little stinker won't let me get comfortable. I tried reasoning with him, but he won't give." I groan again, laying on my right side.

Jackson sighs in relief and walks around the bed to my side. He kneels down and kisses me on the cheek, running a hand through my hair.

"Maybe he'll listen to me." He leans down to my tummy, removing the white comforter covering my body and lifting up my oversized pajama shirt. Jackson taps at my tummy and I giggle at the sight. "Hey, buddy," He whispers, "you gotta let your Momma rest... She's already cranky enough."

I laugh and roll my eyes, pushing Jackson's shoulder, and causing him to stumble over. "Okay, maybe no more talk time for you."

Jackson steadies himself with a chuckle and and stands up straight. He brushes off his dark jeans and zips up a grey jacket, fixing up the hood.

"I made breakfast and happened to have some left over. It's just some eggs and toast. I put it in a little container and left it on the island if you want it later." Jackson says as he makes his way to the other side of the bed to grab his keys from the nightstand.

"Thank you, you gonna be okay leaving me here alone?" I ask as Jackson walks over to the bedroom door.

"I don't know, are you gonna be okay alone?" Jackson replies sarcastically. I grin. "Alright, if you need anything, you can call me and I'll try to get here. If you can't reach me, try my mom."

"Okay, okay'" I say quietly, pushing myself up to sit up in bed despite the pain.

Jackson notices and frowns. He walks over again and leans down to kiss me. "Don't do anything too strenuous, okay? Just get your rest."

I scoot back against the headboard and nod, looking him in his bright green eyes. "Okay, I promise."

"I love you, Y/n." Jackson smiles, kissing me one last time before heading out.

I yell back an 'I love you' and wave as he leaves the room. I hear the front door shut a few seconds later and sit in silence. Every few seconds, I shift and scoot around, trying to find a way to ease the aches.

Jeez, bud, parenting better be less painful than this. I complain to myself.

After a few minutes of sitting alone with my thoughts, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I set my feet down and push myself up, holding onto my belly with my free hand in the process.

I decide to take a few steps, wobbling here and there. After what feels like hours, I finally make it into the kitchen. The eggs and toast sit inside a clear plastic container and I nearly gag at the smell.

No thanks...

I take it upon myself to make myself breakfast. I throw out the toast and eggs in the trash can and ponder what to eat. I find a nearly finished bag of Corn Flakes and take a bowl, pouring the cereal and eating it like popcorn. After that, I snack on a frozen Pop-Tart and drink a glass of milk.

Settling myself on the living room couch, I flick through TV channels, bored out of my mind. Minutes pass by like hours and I end up falling asleep on the couch.

The nap ends after an hour and a half, when I suddenly feel a few sharp pains in my right side. I rub my stomach and lean my head back, trying to calm myself down.

You're okay, bud. You're okay, Momma's okay. We're okay.

I take deep breaths, trying to keep my composure. I grip the arm of the couch with one hand and force myself to stand. I stumble across the house, still rubbing my side and making small, calming affirmations to myself and the baby.

This is the fourth time this month...

I make it back to the bedroom and force myself to change into some baggier clothing. The pain subsides slightly as I begin putting on my sneakers. I groan, taking my set of keys and phone from the dresser in front of our bed.

I make my way around and out of the house, locking the door behind me. I force my keys into my pocket and dial my OB, Carina DeLuca.

"Y/n! What's going on? Are you okay?" Carina answers quickly, concern laced in her voice.

"I just wanted to come in... as a precaution," I say as I walk into the building's elevator. "I've been, getting these shooting pains for the past month. I just want to check if the baby's okay."

"Do you want me to make you an appointment?" Carina asks.

"No- I don't want Jackson to know, he might find out somehow. Could you just squeeze me in quickly?" I bite my lip, tapping my foot as I wait for the elevator doors to open at the bottom floor.

"Okay... Okay, I can try. Right now is perfect. Just tell the nurses up front it's an emergency and they should let you right in." Carina explains.

"Oh, thank you, Carina. You're the best. I should be there in a few." I gush, trying to rush off the elevator.

"Y/n, are you gonna be driv-" I hang up the phone before Carina can finish and try to rush out to my car.

———

"Carina, is he okay? Is my baby okay?" I ask urgently, looking between her and the ultrasound machine.

Carina continues moving the wand around where the pain would be. "He looks buono e sano, good and healthy, Y/n/n."

I let out a sigh of relief, laying my head back against the headrest. "Oh, thank God... But what could those pains have been?"

Carina purses her lips and removes the wand from my stomach, cleaning off the residue. "Could be stress, could be the hormones, different foods, your muscles could be constricting because they've had to work so hard with supporting the baby."

I shake my head. "Oh, I was so scared. I didn't want to go into early labor. Thank you for squeezing me in, I really appreciate it."

"No problem, amica mia. Now are you sure you don't want to tell Jackson?" She removes her gloves and I can feel her gaze from behind me.

"No, it's okay. I'm probably just gonna head home." I say, scooching off the examination table and grabbing my clothes to change back into.

———

I tug on my baggy shirt and put my phone in my back pocket, looking up to decide which way to go to get to my car.

Before I can even make a decision, Schmitt runs up, panting like a madman.

"Dr. L/n! We need Ortho. We got a trauma in, motorcycle accident, rider's right and left legs broken in 4 places each, right shoulder dislocated and left arm broken in two places."

He looks me up and down and his face grows red. "You're supposed to be on maternity leave, aren't you?"

"Doesn't matter now, Glasses. Let's go!"

Schmitt ushers me towards the trauma bay and adrenlaine rushes through me. The pain immediately evades my body and everything after is a blur.

I pull on a trauma gown over my loose clothes and tie up my hair into a ponytail. The patient is located in Trauma 1 and I rush in, finding Owem, Meredith, and Amelia already assessing the biker.

"Y/n! Shouldn't you be at home? I thought you were on maternity leave?" Amelia cocks her head to the side and I shake my head.

"Just back for the day," I say quickly. I turn to Schmitt, asking for reassurance, "So, what do we have here?"

He begins, "Multiple broken bones, bruising and cuts everywhere, he's practically roadkill."

"Well by the time we're done with him, he'll be just fine. Let's get an OR booked, order an MRI and page Plastics too!"

———

Jackson and I met when I transfered from Seattle Presbyterian a few years back. I was a 5th year and he was a Plastics fellow.

By the time I became an Orthopedics fellow, we had already established ourselves as the power couple of the hospital, despite not being a couple yet.

Wherever he went, I was likely to follow. Our cases were often linked and we spent a lot of our time together outside of the hospital as well.

When he first asked me out, it was during a surgery of ours together. We spent our one year anniversary watching over an ICU patient. He proposed to me in an empty OR after a successful surgery. I told him I was pregnant in the Attendings lounge. Our whole story was based in the hospital.

I wait outside OR 4, eyeing the elevator from the corner of my view. Any second now our motorcycle guy would be wheeled in and I'd get to scrub in.

"Y/n! Y/n!" I hear him yell from the elevator, trying to get my attention.

Oh shit.

Jackson jogs over to me, concern washed over his face. I frown slightly, feeling bad that he's so worried about me.

"Jackson, hi, um, how...how did you find me?"

Jackson ushers me into the scrub room and closes the door behind us.

"Y/n, you can't be working, remember? You're on maternity leave. Go home." Jackson grabs me by my shoulders, looking me up and down.

"Jackson, I am fine! It's just one surgery, it's not that bad-" I pull out from his grasp and cross my arms under my chest.

"'Not that bad'? Y/n, that surgery could take more than a few hours. You could barely get out of bed this morning!" Jackson's motions to the operating room, raising his voice and I sigh.

"Jackson, we will continue this conversation at home. Preferably, after I finish this surgery." I say stubbornly. I turn to leave and Jackson follows me. I spot Owen and Amelia walking toward us and smile. "Hey, where's the patient?"

Amelia sucks in a breath. "We're holding off on surgery. He's very touch-and-go, so we're holding him in the ICU until tomorrow."

The both of them frown at me and I nod sadly. "Oh, okay. Thanks anyway, you guys."

"Y/n. Let's go." Jackson says sternly, looking only at me.

"I hope it all goes well tomorrow."

———

My breathing steadies after I sit on the bottom bunk in an on-call room. Jackson shuts the door behind us and opens the shutter slightly, letting a bit of the setting sun seep into the room.

I keep my head down, eyes closed. Afraid he'll be angry at me.

We're silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say to each other. He starts first.

"Y/n, you know that I love you, right?" Jackson kneels down in front of me, I can feel his gaze resting on me.

"Yeah," I mumble, slowly lifting my head so we can meet each other's eyes.

"And you know that I'm taking your maternity leave so seriously because I want what's best for you and the baby, right?"

I groan and nod, covering my face with my hands. "Yes."

"Is it wrong? To want you both to be stress-free and healthy? Look at me when you answer, please."

Jackson takes my hands off my face and holds them, kissing the the backs of them before I respond. "No, it's not."

"Carina paged me, she said you came in. That you were worried about the baby. She told me he's okay. That you're okay." I can see tears forming in Jackson's eyes. He bows his head down and still clutches my hands tightly.

"Please, just promise me you'll take these last 4 weeks off. Completely. No work, no stress. Just bed rest and someone waiting on you." Jackson pleads softly, searching my face for an answer.

I lean in and kiss him softly. I take my hands out of his and wipe his tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just miss being at the hospital, on my feet, ready to go wherever I need to be. This little guy just sucks the energy right out of me." I chuckle, holding Jackson close to me.

He kisses the top of my head and rests his cheek there for a few seconds. "Can I talk to him really quickly?" Jackson asks quietly, I'm barely able to hear him.

I let out a small laugh, remembering this morning. "Go ahead, but no Momma slander."

Jackson grins at me and we sit beside each other on the bottom bunk. He lifts my fresh navy scrubs up to the top of my belly and I hold them there for him. He taps again, lightly and clears his throat.

"Hi, bud. You doin' okay in there...?"

We stay there, taking turns talking to the little guy, excited for the day where we get to call ourselves parents.

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 10 – Welcome to the Mad House

Note: In the last chapter, a few people were wondering about Dick knowing Marinette was there and I realized I cut out the pre-fight strategizing session that explained it.  Signal was the first to respond because it was a daytime event and he was already on patrol.  He called Red Hood in as backup because he knew Jason was free.  Dick just showed up without warning because he knew Marinette had an appointment there earlier and was no longer responding to texts or phone calls and Dick got scared and came to check.

Chapter 1     Chapter 9

“And you’re sure I’m dressed appropriately?”  Marinette asked again.  He’d lost count of what number that was by now.

“Marinette I promise you.  You’re dressed perfectly.  You look amazing and not to make you pout, but nobody is going to care what you’re wearing and it’s too late to change now anyway,” Dick assured her again, this time on the steps walking up to the Wayne Manor front doors.

Marinette looked scandalized.  “Of course they’re going to care!  What people wear affects how people think about them.  I mean, each person reacts differently to the same outfit, but it has an effect.  And, technically, I’m going to dinner with two of my bosses, which just adds extra pressure on top of meeting my boyfriend’s family.” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning as she said boyfriend despite the spiral she was going into, which was making her physically sick on top of mentally sick. “And Alfred!  What if he thinks I’m not dressed properly for what he planned? I don’t want to insult Alfred!”

Dick laughed hard enough to grab his stomach in pain.  Marinette pouted at him.  “Alfred will only care if you are intentionally trying to be offensive. That’s going to be true for almost all of them.”  She raised an eyebrow at him.  “But you’re dressed perfectly, I promise you.  It’s nice but not too nice.  The perfect meeting the family dress.  But they’re going to care more about the person than the dress and they are going to love the person.”  

He ran his hands up and down her arms at a soothing pace before pulling her against him and placing a chaste kiss on her lips.  She smiled warmly at him and nodded, her lips set in a determined line. “Let’s do this.  We got this.”

Dick chuckled and reached for the door.  Before he could reach the handle, the door opened up in front of him. “Master Dick and you must be Miss. Dupain-Cheng.  Please come in.”  Alfred gave them a warm smile.

“Thank you so much.  You must be M. Pennyworth.”

“Indeed I am.  Please call me Alfred.  Everyone else in the family does.”  He smiled kindly at her.  “It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Thank you.  Please just Marinette, Alfred.  It is a pleasure to meet you.  Dick talks about you all the time.” She reached up to give him la bise.  She pulled away to offer him the box she had been carrying.  “I brought some macarons for you and the rest of the family.”

He took the box gratefully.  “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“The grey ones are Earl Grey flavored, if you wanted to get to it before the rest of the family.”  She handed over the box with a wink.

“Very thoughtful, indeed.” He nodded again with a secretive smile.

“The rest of the family in the living room?” Dick asked.

“They are, Master Dick.  Awaiting Miss Marinette quite anxiously, I believe.  I’m just finishing dinner.  It should just be a few minutes.”  

“Thank you, Alfred.” Dick and Marinette chimed at the same time. Alfred nodded again before disappearing toward the kitchen.  Dick smiled to her and guided her toward the living room.  “And now, into the mad house.”  He took a deep breath as he opened the door to the living room.  The room went silent for a few seconds before the noise level ramped up again with everyone welcoming them at the same time. “One at a time,” Bruce boomed loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Dick nodded to him before going into introductions.  “You already know Tim,” he started indicating Tim, who was already at Marinette’s side.  Marinette nodded and gave Tim a hug.  “That is Damian,” he pointed to the surly looking teen sitting on his own in an armchair. He nodded curtly to her so she returned the gesture.  “And Jason.” He indicated a large man leaning against a console table.  They waved politely to each other.  “Duke,” he nodded toward the young man that just jumped up to shake her hand.  “Barbara,” he moved out of the way so Barbara could roll closer to Marinette to say Hi. “Cass,” Cass waved excitedly.  “And of course, you’ve met Bruce…”

“It’s good to see you again Mr. Wayne.”  She held out her hand to shake his.

“Bruce, please.  We’re not in the office.  Welcome Miss. Dupain-Cheng.”  He said warmly, reaching to give her a hug instead.

Marinette beamed at him.  “Marinette, please.  And thank you.  You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, Marinette.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Beautiful home, blah, blah, blah.  Alfred’s the one that does all the work anyway.  Hi, I’m Stephanie.”  She pushed Bruce over as she made her way over to Marinette.  Marinette assumed it was a common occurrence based on the way Bruce just sighed and accepted it, sitting down quietly to observe the results.

“And this is Stephanie.” Dick repeated with a laugh.

“Hi, Stephanie.  It’s nice to meet you.”  Marinette grinned at her.

“How are you feeling?  Do you need to sit down?  Or drink some water?  Or have a snack before dinner?”  Stephanie fired off quickly.

“Let her breathe, Steph,” Barbara chided her.

Marinette smiled politely.  “I’m fine right now, thank you.” Dick shook his head behind her so she couldn’t see. Unfortunately, she followed everyone’s line of sight and caught him.  She gasped and slapped his arm.  “I am!”

“You just threw up outside like seconds ago,” he pointed out.  “In a bag!  That we have since thrown away,” he added quickly before Alfred could hear from the kitchen and get upset they hadn’t mentioned it earlier.

“That was your driving,” she wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to the family. “And now that you’re not driving, I feel better.”  Dick laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh God, I know exactly what you mean,” Barbara laughed in agreement.

Stephanie nodded in approval.  “I like her.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand to pull her away from him and onto the couch. Cass nodded in agreement and moved to join them.  “Come on, let’s complain about Dick some more.  I have all kinds of stories to tell.  You’re a fashion designer right?”  Marinette nodded trying to keep up with her, both physically and mentally. “Oh girl, have I got pictures for you!”

“No! No!  Let me wow her with my amazing fashion sense.” Dick trailed after them.

Stephanie leaned closer to Marinette as though confiding in her, but kept her voice at the same level so Dick could hear as well.  “He says ‘amazing’.  I think he’s confusing the word with appalling.”  Marinette giggled.  She wouldn’t agree out loud, but she’d seen some of his shirts and Stephanie wasn’t wrong.

“She met him wearing that red and black monstrosity and she still went home with him,” Jason pointed out.  “You’re not going to scare her away.”

“Wow! You withstood that shirt huh?” Barbara sent them a teasing glance. “You must have been wearing your tight pants that night, Dick.”

“Oh yeah.  How drunk were you?  I’m going to say you were very drunk.  Only possible excuse.” Stephanie waved it off.

“Dick has a lot of assets to offset…” she immediately stopped to rephrase grimacing.

“Hey!”

“Dick is amazing,” she corrected.  “And yes he was.  And he is smart, sweet, hot, thoughtful, devilishly charming, brave…”

“Says the woman that took down a guy triple her size the first time I met her and took out two henchmen in the hospital last week,” Dick cut in proudly. Marinette ducked her head embarrassed to talk about her more violent experiences in front of his family and her boss.  She really did not want them thinking she was dangerous and unhinged.  Dick squeezed her and kissed her temple.

“Yeah, we heard about the hospital.  Two questions…” he moved so she could see him better.

“Jason, stop being a pain in the ass,” Tim chided him.  “She doesn’t want to talk about that.”

Jason examined her for a second.  Yes, she was closing off but it didn’t seem to be out of residual fear.  It was more embarrassment.  He could fix that.  “Can’t. It’s in my nature.” He turned back to Marinette with a conspiratorial wink, “Pain in the ass is my middle name.”

Tim groaned.  “Welcome to the family.  You aren’t really in it until Jason harasses you mercilessly.”

“I thought it was when someone tried to kill you,” Stephanie scoffed.

Cass smacked her upside the head.  Stephanie looked back at her betrayed.  “What?” She caught Barbara’s pointed look and turned back to Marinette.  “…In video games of course,” she corrected.

“Ooh,” Marinette’s eyes widened in excitement.  “You guys play?  What do you play?”

“Yes!” Duke exclaimed.  “How are you at UMS?”

“Award winning,” Marinette smirked.  “Literally.  You have a copy?”

“As I was saying,” Jason interrupted loudly.  “Two questions: one, how are you feeling after the hospital?  And two, why did you throw a perfectly good gun?”

“I’m doing okay now.  Spent a few days surrounded by either Dick or Tim in meetings or Adrien, my roommate, so I’m feeling a lot better,” she assured him.

“She still has a pretty nasty bruise,” Dick interjected.

“Seen her with her shirt off to know, huh?” Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows.  

Marinette squeaked and spoke louder than she needed to.  “As for the gun, we don’t really have guns in Paris so I don’t have a lot of experience shooting, but a gun has more than one potential use. During all the akuma attacks we learned to use everyday items creatively.  I used it for the less common usage,” she shrugged as casually as she could.  “A baton would have been better but you work with what you got.”

“Oh, I suppose Chat Noir has a baton,” Dick playfully grumbled.

Marinette grinned cheekily at him.  “He does in fact, kind of like Red Robin but it can break into two if he wanted it to like Nightwing and Signal.”

Damian scoffed.  “Being able to break in half decreases the tensile strength of the weapon, making it less effective.”

“True except for one thing… magic.” She wiggled her fingers for effect. Dick huffed out a laugh and Damian scowled.

“Oh, are we comparing baton size between Parisian heroes and Gotham heroes?” Jason asked suggestively.

“I mean you can… but Chat’s could also extend to the length he needs for any task, so...” She shrugged confidently.

“Oooh. I think the Gotham heroes would be a lot more popular if their weapons could do that, too.” Stephanie grinned.

“Anyway…” Jason interrupted.  “Do you know how to shoot a gun or what?”

“Oh, no.  I don’t,” Marinette answered, returning to Jason’s original topic.  “That’s why I threw it.  I’m confident enough in my throwing skills to know I’d hit him, but not in my shooting skills and I didn’t want to hit someone else.”

“I’ll teach you sometime,” Jason said resolutely.  He wasn’t about to let his de facto sister-in-law not know how to defend herself.

“Oh that’s right.  You were the one responsible for the horde of weapons in Dick’s apartment that made me freak out and run in the first place.” She gave him a pointed look.

“You ran because you were afraid.”  He pointed out.

“I ran because I have good survival instincts,” she corrected him.

“Clearly not.  You ran from Dick,” Damian interjected.  Dick gave him a warning look that Damian determinedly ignored.

“Aberration,” she waved him off good naturedly.  “You find a stockpile of weapons in Gotham, you run.”

“True. So you in?” Jason asked again.

Marinette stared at him strangely for a few seconds.  “Huh.  You know, you’re the second person this month to offer to teach me.  Red Hood made the same offer.”  She missed the glares Damian and Dick sent toward Jason, for different reasons, and the exasperated looks Tim and Bruce sent him.

“He probably just wants to make sure you know how.  I’m sure he would be okay with a different teacher,” Jason assured her.

Marinette beamed at him.  “It sounds like fun.  I’d love to learn.”  Dick let out a defeated sigh next to her.

“If you would like to make your way to the dining room, dinner is served.”  Alfred announced.

They slowly made their way to the dining room.  Dick and Marinette trailed behind the rest so Dick could give her a discrete hug and supportive smile.  Jason quickly fell into step beside Marinette.  “Damn, you really are the size of a pixie.” He stuck out his elbow to set it on her head.  

Marinette gave him a playful glare, dodging before his elbow could land.  “You know, you look about the same size as that guy at the bar… didn’t turn out too well for him.”

“Though she be but little, she is fierce,” Jason laughed.  “I’m a better fighter than that guy was.  After the baby, we can spar and I can show you and maybe teach you a few more moves in case you need to defend yourself.” He let the ‘when you get kidnapped for being with a Wayne’ part of his sentence go unsaid. “You seem like you’ll be scrappy.”

“I’m better than scrappy,” she smirked at him.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Jason grinned as he passed her to get to his seat.

“No, you’re not allowed to encourage each other.”  Dick pulled out Marinette’s chair for her and gave Jason a warning look. Damian rolled his eyes at Dick as Alfred started serving the meal.

“Miss Marinette, I made yours less spicy than the rest of the family’s but if your medicine now allows you to eat bolder flavors, I have another back in the kitchen.”

“No, thank you Alfred.  This will be perfect.  The medicine helps but doesn’t make everything go away.  More like a low simmer rather than a full boil.”

“Oh yeah.  Dick said you started your morning sickness extra early.  That sucks.  I hope it means it’ll end extra early for you too.” Stephanie commented sympathetically.

Marinette smiled gratefully.  “Thank you. Here’s hoping.”  She raised her water in Stephanie’s direction and took a drink.

“Maybe it’s twins,” Jason offered taking a bite of his dinner.

Marinette choked on her water.  Dick patted her back.  “What?”

“That’s a sign of twins isn’t it?  Early morning sickness?” He asked around the bite of roll in his mouth.

“This dinner suddenly got a lot less fun,” Dick mumbled to Marinette.

Marinette glanced surreptitiously toward the direction of her purse in the foyer before snapping her eyes back to Jason.  “That’s not funny.  You take that back.”

“Sorry, Pixie.” He shrugged nonchalantly, a taunting smile tugging on his lips.  “I don’t make the rules.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Jason Aloysius Hubert…”

“Not one of those was anywhere near…”

“…Sebastian Tobias…” she continued ignoring his interruption.

“What the hell kind of names…” Jason started chuckling incredulously.

“…Winthorp…”

“Winthorp?” His nose wrinkled in disgust.

“… Pain in the ass Todd!  You take that back right now.”  Marinette finished.  She glared at him but her faltering puckered lips, straining not to smile gave her away.

Jason broke out into raucous laughter.  It took him a few minutes to calm down enough to speak again, but when he did, he wasn’t ready to end the fun.  “I’m just saying having a little Marinette and little Dick running around here together would be cute,” he finished innocently.

She scoffed playfully.  “If you want two babies running around here together, you better go find a woman to knock up right quick.”

Jason choked on his water.  Everyone else’s eyes bugged out.  “No! No!  No!  Little Dick? Cute.  Little Marinette? Adorable.  Little Jason? Terrifying,” Tim interjected.

“Hey, fuck you, Timbers,” Jason glowered at him.  

“Language, Jason,” Bruce chided him.

“Well at least that wouldn’t result in a baby,” Stephanie observed, calmly eating her dinner.

“Might result in a death though,” Duke added, seeming not at all upset at the idea.

“I was an adorable kid,” Jason groused.  

“It’s true,” Dick agreed.  “You should have seen little Jason running around the manor doing extra credit and bragging about his report card.”

“That’s because my grades were amazing.  But not ready to have one of my own honor roll students, so it’s on you, Marinette.”

Marinette leveled a look at Jason.  “You know what?  If it’s twins, you’re coming over for at least two hours a week…”

“Four,” Dick whispered.

“Per child, so four hours total per week, to watch them for us.  Since they’ll be so cute and all.  You can teach them with your honor roll brain.” Marinette poked her fork in Jason’s direction still giggling.

Damian scowled at the interaction between Marinette and Dick and Jason. “Threats are unnecessary.  It is unlikely you will bear twins unless there is a history of it in your family.  Is there a history of it in your family?” he asked disdainfully.

“No,” she admitted.

“Then your panic is childish and unwarranted.  It is a statistical improbability,” Damian finished.

“Damian!” Bruce chastised him.

“Back off Demon Spawn.  We were just having fun.” Jason growled.

Marinette snorted.  “It was a statistical improbability that I would have gotten pregnant in the first place. And yet, here we are.  Statistics has taken a giant leave of absence with this pregnancy already.”  She stuffed her forkful of potatoes into her mouth with a smirk.

“Life finds a way,” Tim nodded sagely.

The table broke down into giggles.  “Dork,” Stephanie snorted, shoving his face away.

“Is it common in France to give multiple middle names?” Bruce asked, trying to keep the group on lighter topics.

“How many names are you planning on giving the baby?” Duke asked.

“Uh, common for rich people anyway.  I think they get an extra name for every couple million they’re born into. Adrien has four middle names.  My friend Chloe has six.”  She rolled her eyes and turned toward Duke.  “And we haven’t talked about it but I was only planning on a first, middle, and last name.”  She looked over to Dick for confirmation.

Dick nodded, slightly relieved.  “Good. That’s good.  I agree.”

“You haven’t talked about names yet?  That’s going to be a fun conversation.  Can I bring popcorn and watch?” Stephanie chuckled.

“Six?” Duke asked.

Marinette nodded.  “Unbelievably pretentious parents.” She stopped and looked around.  “I mean…”

“Nobody here has more than two middle names, you’re good,” Barbara waved off her concern.

“Oh, thank God.  I didn’t want to upset anyone,” she let out a relieved breath.

“No, just entrap Dick and use us for our money,” Damian bit out.

“Damian!” Bruce chastised.

“Damian…” Dick growled lowly.  Damian steadfastly avoided Cass’s disapproving frown and Dick’s angry glare.

“Marinette, I apologize for my son’s bluntness.  I’ve tried to instill better manners in my children,” Bruce leveled a warning look at Damian.

Marinette blinked a few times and nodded.  “Honesty is a virtue,” she started out slowly.  “It’s good to be suspicious.  I was of anyone who seemed to warm up too quickly to my friends who had assets others might want to take advantage of.  A little bit of skepticism is healthy.  And at least you’re being honest about it.  Most of my friends wouldn’t be if the roles were reversed.” She chuckled slightly before turning toward Bruce.  “There’s a respect in that.  I know where he stands.  He isn’t pretending.  There’s no duplicity, no illusions, no pretending for the sake of politeness.  You don’t know me and this,” she motioned to her belly, “is a lot all of a sudden to take in, and not just for you.”

“There’s no way she could have intentionally trapped me.  I was the one who provided everything, as I’ve said before,” Dick pointed out, his voice sharp and defensive of anyone questioning Marinette.

“Unless it isn’t yours,” Damian hedged coldly.

“Demon Spawn, I swear to…” Jason threw down his fork and started to get up.

“Damian, you will treat our guest with respect or you will go to your room,” Bruce thundered.

“Wow, you are really unafraid.  I bet you’re a fearsome sight in any kind of competition.” Marinette sent him an impressed smile.  “That’s a valid question.  I guess the only way to be absolutely sure is with a blood test and if Dick would like one, I’ll agree to it… after the baby is born.  I’m not going to subject the baby to unnecessary dangers just to prove a point.”

“I don’t,” Dick assured her.  “I don’t need it.  I have no doubts.”  Marinette’s eyes shined with appreciation and leaned into Dick as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“But your family might,” she pointed out quietly.  “It’s a reasonable request.  Believe me when I say if something like this happened to Adrien, Chloe would openly be on a warpath and Alya would be doing all kinds of duplicitous, questionably legal investigations into the woman.”

“Good friends,” Cass commented quietly.

“Yeah, I think I’d like them,” Stephanie agreed.

“And they would demand a blood test, so I understand and take no offense,” Marinette assured them.

“We don’t need it,” Tim spoke up.

“Speak for yourself,” Damian grumbled.

“That’s it Damian, go to your room,” Bruce barked.  Damian huffed and pushed away from the table, leaving without a backwards glance.  

“Perhaps it is time to retire to the living room with dessert,” Alfred offered, giving Damian a disappointed look as he passed him out of the room.  As soon as everyone except Damian was settled in the living room, Alfred brought out the macarons, setting them on the table in the room.  “Provided by Miss Marinette.”

“Oh, these look delicious.  What are the flavors?” Bruce asked eying the cookies.

“The purple ones are lavender and honey.  Dark brown is chocolate hazelnut.  Light brown is salted caramel.  Yellow is lemon.  And pink is raspberry.”

“Holy shit, Pixie!” Jason exclaimed swallowing his bite.  “These are good.”

“Jason, language, please,” Bruce repeated in a tired voice.

Cass gave her a thumbs up and grabbed another flavor.

“If you don’t marry her, I will.” Stephanie agreed, shoving her second macaron into her mouth.

Marinette giggled.  “Good to know I have backup options.”

Dick narrowed his eyes playfully and wrapped his arms around her protectively. “That’s it we’re going home. You’re not allowed around my family anymore.”

Marinette laughed harder and cuddled into him, resting her head on his shoulder and humming contentedly as he squeezed her tighter against his side.

Chapter 11

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Never Too Late 1

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: No I don’t know when the next chapter will be up or why I’m posting. The last few days have been some of the worst of my life and everything’s fallen apart.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You thought thirty-nine was hard. You remembered it clearly, as if it was yesterday. A whole year. Another year. Gone. You greeted forty as you had every day. At your desk behind the ridiculous protective glass as you renewed licenses and issued permits. 

The same tedious, draining eight hours, the same dull co-workers, the same broken water cooler, the same sign flashing numbers as you beckoned forth the next impatient person. ‘What took you so long?’ ‘This is ridiculous.’ ‘Goddamn pain in the neck.’ 

No one wanted to sit in the old and stiff plastic seats just to get a terrible photo taken and have to wait even longer for the actual card to arrive in the mail. And you didn’t want to help. That became clearer the longer you were there. The job was thankless and dull. Like everything else in your life.

You left as you did every night. You promised yourself it wouldn’t be like your last birthday. No bottle of wine burning in your gut. No splitting headache the next day as you stared into the toilet bowl. Just a little treat that couldn’t possibly turn bitter.

And that was just like you. No risks, no spontaneity. The same old routine. You could hear mother’s voice then. ‘You’re too stubborn. That’s why you never held onto a man. You waited too long. Nothing is ever going to be perfect enough for you… for grandkids.’ Well, she had others. Your sister had a boy and a girl, and your brother was blessed with three daughters. More than enough for her. Unlike you.

It was raining. On your birthday. In the middle of summer. Typical.

You were soaked by the time you got to the train and hesitated to follow through on your planned sojourn. You got off a few stops before yours and climbed up to the street. The downpour slowed to a drizzle. You dipped through the automatic door and the air-conditioned grocer chilled your damp clothing.

You went to the refrigerated glass shelves of pastries and specialty desserts. A whole cake to yourself seemed exorbitant; not just on your stomach but your wallet too. They had single slices of cheesecake but only plain left. You wanted chocolate or strawberry or something that you would slightly regret.

There was a pretty cupcake; chocolate with mocha icing and a drizzle of dolce leche and some garish edible beads sprinkled over. You took the small plastic container and headed for the frozen aisle to grab a pizza; thin crust with cheese. The calories added up along with the years.

You paid for your measly meal and slightly ridiculous dessert and headed back out onto the street. Your flat slipped on the pavement and you steadied yourself with your other foot only for your toe to catch a crack in the pavement. You flailed and fought but in your usual graceless existence, there was little else you could do but resign to fate.

The plastic container was crushed beneath your chest atop the pizza box and your purse fell painfully down your arm as your knees scraped through your wool pants. Just your luck. Just your fucking luck! You cursed in your head and slowly pushed yourself off the mess, chocolate smeared across your blouse.

You wanted to cry. And scream. You wanted to disappear as the apathetic New York rush passed you by. As life passed you by. And the urge only got more intense as a shadow stopped before you. As your eyes glossed over the shoes and followed the long legs up a formidable figure. As the man with the golden hair knelt and helped scrape up the mess onto the pizza box.

“Oh my god,” You grumbled as you took it from him embarrassed. “You don’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’d really prefer it that you just…” You shook your head, you could barely look at him. “Just ignore me like everyone else. Please.”

“Come on,” He offered you his hand but you just stared. He grabbed your elbow instead and helped you stand. “I’m sure they have a dozen more--”

“It’s fine.” You swept past him and shoved the box and mess of plastic and icing into the trash. He followed you, barely evading other pedestrians as he did. “ I’m just… Thank you. I’m fine.”

You turned away and he caught your elbow again. He was strong. You turned back, annoyed with him as much as yourself. And now that you looked at him directly, he was familiar. And that was worse. You cringed and wiggled your arm free.

“Hey,” He let go and pointed down. “You’re bleeding.”

You looked and the knee of your pants had soaked through with blood. You sighed and shook your head. 

“It’s just… another nail in the coffin,” You huffed under your breath. “I’ll survive.” You assured him and spun away once more. “Happy birthday to me.” You grumbled.

You heard him behind you then felt him beside you as another New Yorker narrowly avoided him. You were starting to get angry and the humiliation curdled in your chest.

“It’s your birthday?” He asked.

“How--” You glanced over at him. “I...whispered that.”

“I have good ears,” He smiled.

“You would.” You frowned. “Well... Steve Rogers,” You announced as you crossed your arms and stopped again, a snarl hurled in your direction from a passerby. “You saved me. Your work for the day is done.”

“You know who I am?” He mused. 

“I might be clueless but not that clueless,” You said. “Look, thank you. I aready said it once.”

“Let me buy you a cake,” He said. “Then my job is done.”

You squinted at him. Long and hard. No man was ever this nice to you. Not without reason. And this was the Steve Rogers. The Captain America. He was every woman’s dream and every man’s envy. You were a forty year old hermit covered in rain and cupcake.

“Really, you’ve done enough.” You hissed. “I can’t--No.”

You marched away from him but he was relentless. He kept you from the subway as he rounded you and blocked your path.

“You seem like you’re having a bad day. Let me make it better.” He said.

“Why?” You asked. “You don’t know me.”

“Well, you know who I am. So we’re halfway there.” He smiled. “What’s your name?”

You tilted your head as you considered him. If you humoured him, it would be over sooner. You couldn’t imagine what urge drove him to his persistence. Was it a genuine need to be valiant? A compulsion? Pity? Maybe he amused himself with the pathetic missteps of others?

You gave him your name. Begrudgingly.

“There’s a bakery close to here. Established 1934.” He said. “I went to the opening with my mother.”

“You really don’t--”

“The more you insist I don’t, the more I want to,” He interrupted. “So, let me do something nice.”

You stared at him and the mist began to thicken. The rain drops bounced off the awning over the next storefront and ran down the aged brick of the neighbourhood.

“Come on, before you catch cold,” His hand was on your arm again. You let him usher you past the subway entrance; more eager to be out of the rain than anything.

The door rang as you entered. The bell was old and tinny and the inside betrayed its age. Not in a bad way. It was clean and smelled of bread and cloves. The hand painted cards lined before the trays of baked goods and the faded portraits of loaves and bundts were of another time. You felt old and not very all at once.

“Their black forest is good,” Steve said as he shook the rain off his thin jacket; if the rain hadn’t broken the humidity, he’d have been stolid. “Red velvet…” He looked at you. “French Vanilla.”

“Oh, do I seem vanilla to you?” You challenged as you turned to the display and avoided his eyes. 

“It’ll be nice. A treat to take home for the family.” He said. “Husband? Kids?”

You scoffed and bent closer as you read. Your glasses were at the bottom of your purse. A new prescription you were in denial off.

“I’ll take a slice of the cherry chip.” You said to the woman on the other side of the counter. “Please.”

“She’ll take the whole cake.” Steve reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “My treat.” He slid a bill across as you stared at the floor. “No one to share with?”

“My cat died after Christmas,” You shrugged. “I suppose I could bring it in for my co-workers.”

He was quiet as the baker boxed up the cake. The tension between you thickened.

“I know it’s kind of… frowned upon to ask but--”

“Forty,” You interrupted. “A nice, even number, I guess.”

“Ah, a whippersnapper,” He nudged you before he took the cake from the banker with a thanks. “I think I’ve bothered you enough.” He held it out to you. “Happy birthday.” He glanced out the window as you accepted the box. “You should wait this thing out but…” He pulled up his hood and checked his watch. “I got a friend waiting on me and he’s not very patient.” He grinned. “And I was late when I ran into you.”

You watched him go. He swung the door open and the bell rattled again. The rain pattered off his hood as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He glanced at you one last time before he dove into the city crowd and sidestepped the splash of a passing car. You looked down at the dark green box.

Well, at least you could say it hadn’t been an entirely uneventful birthday.

🎂

Break was almost over. You spent your last few minutes in the washroom. You leaned closer to the mirror as you frowned. That made it worse. That new line around your lips… and the crow’s feet. Was that another grey poking through?

Well, it might help if you stopped scowling. You left your reflection behind and returned to your desk. You got settled and punched back in through your computer. The next number flashed across the screen facing the waiting room; G645I. You didn’t watch to see them stand and approach. You grabbed a pen and scribbled on a post-it as the shadow neared.

“And what are we here for today?” You asked as you finally looked up.

“License renewal,” The paper slid through the slot beneath the window as you blinked up at the familiar voice. “Ten years already.”

“Oh,” You took the form and turned to your monitor as you typed. 

Steve Rogers said your name as if to confirm your fears that after a whole two weeks, he still remembered the woman with cake smeared across her front. You bit your lip without thinking as you looked at him.

“Did you enjoy the cake?” He crossed his arms and leaned on the little ledge, as close to the window as he could get. You didn’t miss Gloria’s errant glances as she ignored her own applicant for yours.

“It was good. Thank you.” You focused on inputting his information. You hid your startled realisation as you keyed in 1918. Whatever they had given him, you wanted some. “I think Gary enjoyed it more. He’s just down at counter three.”

“You sure you’re forty?” He asked.

Your lashes flicked up and you rolled your eyes.

“Coming from you…” You muttered.

“Well, I had help.” He chuckled.

You carried on and scribbled across his form.

“I need you to back up to that line. Look at the camera.” You said tersely as you hit a few buttons. “No smiling.”

He couldn’t help a curve of his lips as he backed away but he squared his jaw and wiped away his amusement as he hit the marker. You focused the lens and took the picture quickly. His image appeared before you and you finished up the renewal as he stood at the window.

“Never really thought about Captain America needing a license,” You gathered up his copy and stapled it to the confirmation. You slipped it to him and his fingers somehow brushed yours beneath the glass.

“Even I have rules,” He kidded.

You narrowed your eyes at him and struggled not to shake your head.

“Three to six weeks,” You told him. “It’ll be in the mail. Keep that in your vehicle.”

“And… how was the rest of your birthday?” He asked.

You were quiet. You considered him and swallowed. You could hear the titters of your co-workers. You wondered how he didn’t, or perhaps he had learned to ignore it.

“Better,” You confessed. “Thank you again.”

“No, thank you,” He folded the paper and tapped it on the ledge. “You’re a doll.”

“A doll?” You echoed.

“Forgive me. My age shows.” He laughed. “You have a good day… take care of yourself.”

“You too, Mr. Rogers.” You said stiffly.

“Oh, and… as an elder, can I share with you something I’ve learned over the years?” He paused as his hand rested just on the other side of the glass.

“Sure,” You said.

“Sometimes you gotta break the routine. Do something fun. Something for yourself.” He backed away slowly. “Get a little wild.” Your brows drew together and he winked. “From one geezer to another.”

He turned and strode past the of chairs of impatient applicants. You took a breath and tried to shrug away your discomfort. It felt almost patronizing to have him talk to you like that. Like he knew you. Like he, the laboratory adonis, could relate to the paunch under your waistband or the slowly sagging skin on your arms. It was almost as if he had been rubbing it in.

[towerfandoms]

3AM Encounters

A/n: I feel like everyone uses that title but oh well I’m uncreative when it comes to titles. I’ve been simping a LOT for Shinsou recently so here enjoy this <33 and ik requests are off but for Shinsou I make exceptions ✨✨✨

Summary: Shinsou had trouble falling asleep and was laying in bed, counting as the hours passed by. That is, until he heard footsteps outside

Pairings: Shinsou Hitoshi x reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none just fluff

Despite the many times Shinsou had laid awake at 3am, he still could never quite get used to the eerie silence. It was times like this when he truly understood the phrase “deafening silence”. The quietness felt too loud. The nothingness made him feel uneasy. During the day, he despised hearing the loud screeches of jumpy teenagers but now, he almost misses it. He could hear just about every little thing, the slight gust of wind from outside his open window, the creaking of his bed every time he shifted to get comfier and the footsteps outside.

Wait,,, outside?

Shinsou grabbed his phone from his bedside table and squinted at the screen, the harsh light illuminating his room. It was 3:15AM. Trying to make as little noise as possible as to not draw attention to himself, he heaved out of bed and looked out the window that was overlooking the gardens. He was surprised to be met with the sight of a black silhouette scurrying across the gardens, making their way towards the equipment shed. They were dressed in what seemed to be a black hoodie and pyjama bottoms. He couldn’t make out their face, their hood masking all their features. Leaning out a bit to get a better view, he noticed they were holding something close to their chest. He wasn‘t sure but to him it seemed like a box.

Now this peeked the teenage boy's interest. He wondered what was inside the box to make them run so early in the morning. They were most likely a student in his year as these gardens were predominantly used by second years, since they were right by their dormitories. Should he go after them and make sure they weren’t getting into trouble? Thinking, he had nothing better to do and the chances of actually being able to fall asleep were slim so he decided to investigate. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say or do when he met the person but he just hoped they weren’t up to no good.

He pulled on the first sweatshirt he found and carefully made his way down to the backyard. He stopped when he thought he heard footsteps and thought of just going back to his dorm and letting the person do whatever they wanted. He wasn’t the class president or anything so he wasn’t obligated to check on every little out of the norm. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep influencing his decisions but for some odd reason he desperately wanted to know what the person was up to. When he first joined the Hero Course in second year he announced to everyone that he wasn’t looking to make friends. However that soon changed as he got to know everyone. He still wasn’t the most sociable person but hey who knows, maybe he’ll find a kindred spirit when it comes to the inability to sleep. So he let curiosity get the better of him and pursued onwards towards the equipment shed.

Once he was outside the shed, Shinsou leaned his head against the rotting wood trying to listen in. He was surprised to hear low whisperings but he couldn’t make out anything bar a few hushed be quiet’s. He stiffly stood outside for some time, unsure whether to knock or barge in. He decided knocking would probably be silly so he opted with the latter. In one swift motion, he swung the handle and stepped inside.

The scene before him was baffling, to say the least. Whatever Shinsou was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. The black figure from before was kneeling down,  their back to him, petting a large grey cat while a kitten was on their lap. There were three more kittens around them, all purring and rubbing their heads against them, whining for their attention. When they heard the door creak open, they rapidly swung their head around, eyes wide at the thought of being discovered. So they were quite surprised when their deep e/c eyes met with Shinsous' own lilac hues.

They both stayed staring like that, neither pulling away and refusing to break eye contact. After what seemed like hours but couldn’t possibly be more than a few seconds, Shinsou finally pulled away, looking to the side while sheepishly bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Sh-Shinsou!” was the only thing you managed to say, confusion clouding your brain. Just what was he doing here this early in the morning? Then an even more alarming thought popped into your head. Was he going to report you???

Sensing your disarray, Shinsou quickly tried to explain himself, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, um, you don’t have to worry about me snitching or anything haha,” he nervously fumbled out, “I-I just saw you running and was wondering what you were doing is all…” he trailed off, unable to look at you in the eyes.

Of all people he had to meet in the middle of the night, why did it have to be you. You were also in 2-A, in fact you sat behind him in most of his classes. You two had a few brief encounters but it was enough for Shinsou to feel butterflies whenever he crossed paths with you. You were really sweet to everyone, always smiling and happy to lend a hand to anyone in need. Well you were the class president, he supposed, it was your job after all. Still though, the level of kindness you showed them all was something that not even Bakugou wanted to push away. As if your looks and kindness weren’t enough, you also had a killer sense of humour. You were always sending the funniest memes, tweets and tik toks to their class gc and responded to his sarcastic comments with ones of your own. You were without a single doubt one of the most perfect people Shinsou had ever laid his eyes upon. And now here he was seeing you surrounded by cats??? Hell, in his eyes you were quite literally an angel.

“Oh! Whoops, I suppose I should’ve been sneakier,” relief evident in your voice as you chuckled softly. Thank God it was just him and not someone like Iida a stickler for rules.

However, the fact that he was here now meant that...

”Wait a second! Did I wake you up??? Oh my God no, I am so so so sorry. Ugh, I feel so horrible now,” your tone changing abruptly as you ushered out an apology.

“What? No, no, it’s fine. I was always awake,” he quickly replied back looking down to meet your shining eyes again. There was only one window and the moonlight trickled through, enhancing your eyes and accentuating all your lovely features. You really looked as though you were hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves.

You met his eyes again, sharing a look of sympathy as you understood his pain.

“Oh, you couldn’t sleep either? That’s why I came down here. I found the mama cat and her kittens three weeks ago. No one seemed to be feeding them or even know of their existence so I was kinda like damn, alright I’ll take care of yous,” you rambled on, almost forgetting about the kittens beside you, desperately mewling for attention.

You stopped to take a deep breath and started playing with the kittens next to you, looking up at Shinsou awaiting his reply.

Shinsou on the other hand was so absorbed watching you play that he didn’t even realise you were finished talking until you gave a small laugh.

“Do you wanna come over here and play with them?” you asked a small smile splayed on your lips.

He could not say yes fast enough. He walked over to where you sat and carefully kneeled down so as to not scare away the kittens. He gently started petting mama cat who instantly became smitten with him. Shinsou slowly began to smile, the pure adoration for these kittens displayed on his face.

You allowed yourself to stare at Shinsou while he wasn’t paying attention. Shinsou was a beautiful man, even Kaminari noting his good looks. You two never had much interactions bar a few good mornings and complaining about training. The usual small talk. He was always polite and when in a good mood would throw a few sarcastic comments here and there. Though he was never rude, it always felt like there was a barrier between him and the rest of the class that no one could quite break down. However now, early in the morning you somehow felt closer to him. It was like he was slowly letting his guard down. Even though neither of you were talking, you enjoyed his company, the silence almost comforting.

Despite how much you enjoyed just being next to him and petting cats, you also wanted to talk to him. It was hard talking to him in class, what with the walls he surrounded himself with. You decided now would be the best time to get to know him if you ever wanted to make a lasting friendship with him.

You wracked your brain for a conversation starter, not wanting to be too dry to bore him away nor wanting to be too chaotic to scare him away. God, just why were you so nervous anyways? It's just Shinsou after all. Why did talking to hot boys always have to be so hard ugh?

You looked over at him again, admiring his toned body that could almost be seen through the sweatshirt. You let your eyes trailed down until you noticed his pyjama bottoms. They were baby pink with Hello Kitty printed all over it.

You had to suppress a scream of joy. They were without a single doubt the most beautiful pyjamas you had ever laid your eyes upon.

“I like your pj bottoms,” you said teasingly, though that wasn’t your intention.

“O-oh, thank you,” he muttered, surprising himself by getting out a coherent sentence. Inwardly though, he was cursing himself for not throwing on a pair of sweatpants. You probably genuinely meant it but it was still something Shinsou didn’t want to go around flaunting. Fortunately for him, it was too dark for you to see the tinge of red on the tip of his ears and cheeks.

When he looked back up at you, he was expecting a face of mockery but was pleasantly surprised to see you smiling, your eyes shining brightly under the dim moonlight. The peace he was feeling before returned and he started to feel more confident in your comfortable presence.

“Y’know,” he started, his deep velvety voice becoming more confident. “Aren’t you the class president? What would Iida say if he found out?” he asked, completely breaking the ice between yous.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said in a low voice, feigning a look of mock fear.

“I don’t know, it just wouldn’t be honest. My guilty conscience would never be able to handle it,” he replied, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

You couldn’t stop smiling at the thought that he was willing to continue the conversation. You wanted to see how much longer you could make it last.

“Hmmmm, well how about I make it even. If you want, you can join me to feed the cats. They need to be fed in the day too, so it’s not like we’re always breaking the rules.” looking down as soon as you finished, afraid of the answer. You didn’t want to seem like you were being too pushy but at the same time you really enjoyed Shinsous company. The morning was slowly coming to an end and soon you both will have to go back to your dorms. You’ll both have to continue classes the next day and pretend this night never happened. You wanted it to continue. So you waited with baited breath for Shinsous reply.

Coincidentally enough, Shinsou had also been thinking the same thing. He had thoroughly enjoyed his time. Though you both hadn’t spoken much, your presence really put him at ease. He felt so much more relaxed around you. It would be a shame if this was the first and last night of spending time with you and the kittens. So when you asked, he knew his answer straight away. He just had to somehow play it off cool and act unbothered.

“Deal. I guess I have enough time to visit the kittens. And you too, I suppose,” he added with his signature smirk.

You felt your cheeks heat up but managed to return a mischievous grin of your own. You quickly pulled out your phone and sighed with disappointment when you checked the time.

“Unfortunately, I think our time here has ended. It’s nearly 4am, the sun will be coming up soon. And we have annoying classes tomorrow,” you stated a bit sad about the fact that such an enjoyable night has come to an end. However he did say he’d continue joining you so that kept you somewhat excited.

Shinsou looked at you, mouth slightly parted in shock.

“4AM already? Shit, sorry for keeping you up for so long,” with that he tried to remove mama cat from his lap who had fully made herself at home on it. She lazily stretched and got off, a bit annoyed that her nap time was ruined.

You and Shinsou both stood up and brushed yourselves down, dusting off any dirt that may have stuck on to you from the old floors.

“I can walk you back to your dorm,” Shinsou offered, his hand rubbing the back of his next.

“How chivalrous,” you giggled slightly. “Don’t worry about it, besides we wouldn’t want anyone to catch you in those stunning bottoms now would we,”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes irritably but there was a pleased smile on his lips, indicating he wasn’t really annoyed.

You both made your way back to the dorms, whispering softly to each other occasionally. You broke apart to go to your separate dorms and try to get at least a couple of hours of sleep.

You lay awake in your bed, replaying the encounter and a bit upset at how quickly it had ended. You remembered his eyes, his smell and his deep velvety voice. You couldn’t stop smiling stupidly when you remembered your conversations. Somehow thinking about his voice managed to help you drift off to sleep, your last clear thought being Shinsou playing with the kittens.

A/n: I tried really hard to keep it gender, race and features in general neutral. If there’s any place where I could improve or switch up my words please let me know and I’ll be happy to oblige :)) constructive criticism/ feedback is always appreciated in fact encouraged so do not hesitate to tell me anything. Anyways thank you so much and have a lovely day yall <33

[oikawaplssteponme]

DRIVE

pairing: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, vandalism/graffiti, a little suggestive, Iwaizumi calls you ‘babe’ , law enforcement present

genre: Skater! AU, fluff, action (?)

word count: 2,087 words

synopsis: In an attempt to frame your rival school, you, your boyfriend, and his friends, end up coming face to face with some unwanted guests. A little quick thinking and some fast skateboards should hopefully do the trick...that and a stolen car.

a/n: i got this idea and i just went with it hehe. i had a lot of fun writing it so i hope you all enjoy. no thoughts just seijoh four ;) reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

•

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD Y/N TURN THIS FUCKING CAR AROUND-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

~

six hours earlier

“What do you guys want for dinner?”

“You-”

“Hajime…”

“Get a room you two.”

You sighed and crossed your arms. You looked at your boyfriend sitting on the couch with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Let’s get udon. That sounds so good,” suggested Makki.

“I had udon yesterday,” explained Oikawa, “I don’t want that again.”

“That’s not my problem. Y/N, I’ll order,” said Makki. You nodded.

“Udon sounds good to me.”

You moved to sit back down next to Iwaizumi and he instantly wrapped his arm around you. You moved to rest your legs on his lap.

“I thought we said we were going out tonight,” huffed Mattsun. You chuckled.

“Don’t worry we are. We can’t go out on an empty stomach though.”

“Did you get the spray paint Oikawa?” asked Iwa. Oikawa perked up.

“Uh I thought you were getting it…”

The rest of you groaned.

“No you were supposed to get it idiot!” sighed Hajime. You gave Iwa a nudge.

“It’s fine, we’ll just get it before we go,” you insisted.

“Oikawa, your udon privileges have been revoked for this,” said Makki.

“I DIDN’T EVEN WANT UDON-“

“Well you certainly aren’t getting now. The rest of us will split your bowl.”

“HOW IS THAT FAIR-”

“Makki when will it be here?” You asked.

“About twenty minutes.”

“Okay so after the food gets here and we eat, we’ll head over to that supply store and grab the paint. How does that sound?” You explained. The boys nodded. Iwaizumi placed his hand under your chin, having you look at him.

“Sounds perfect babe.”

Iwaizumi placed a subtle kiss onto your lips, keeping a smirk on his face.

“Like I said, get a room.”

~

All your dinners arrived right on time and you all devoured them. You ended up giving Oikawa his bowl, though you did steal a noodle here and there.

The five of you threw away all your trash before packing up your things. You left the basement and went outside, each of you grabbing your skateboards.

“Ready to go?” You asked. The boys nodded.

“Last one at the store is paying for the paint-” laughed Mattsun before hopping on his board and skating away as fast as possible.

“Shit-”

The rest of you followed, pushing with all your might to not be last. The supply store was only a few minutes away, prompting your little race. You stood in second place behind Mattsun, followed by Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Makki.

“Sorry babe-” Iwaizumi rode past you, leaving you next to Oikawa.

“Damn it.”

You lowered your stance on your board, hoping to pick up some extra speed that you desperately craved. You were tied with Makki and Oikawa, each of you inching for the lead.

“I won’t hesitate to push you right off your boards,” you laughed. Oikawa smirked.

“Yeah right-”

“No way I’m paying-”

You continued to push on the ground, gaining distance between the boys and catching up to Hajime and Issei. The wind blew in your face, awakening all your senses. You could see the store approaching, giving you an adrenaline rush.

You caught up to Mattsun and Iwa.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” you smirked.

“You haven’t won yet Y/N-” said Mattsun. He was first at the store, followed by Ayou, then Iwaizumi, Makki and Oikawa. He lost by just a second.

“I guess it all worked out, since you were supposed to buy the paint anyway,” you joked as you caught your breath. Oikawa huffed.

“Whatever. Wait here.” Toru kicked up his board, adjusted the beanie on his head and went inside. Iwaizumi moved to stand behind you, slinging his arms around your waist.

“You’re sure we aren’t gonna get caught?” he asked. You sighed.

“Have a little faith in me babe. My plan is full proof.”

“And if we do get caught, we can blame you,” smiled Makki. You hit his arm.

“We aren’t gonna get caught. I’m smarter than that.”

“Got it!” You looked up to see Oikawa holding up the bag of goods.

“Four cans of purple, white, black, and grey spray paint.”

You smirked.

“Perfect.”

~

The five of you hopped back onto your boards and rode until you reached Aoba Johsai High School. You quietly and carefully made your way to the gym.

“Never thought I would be back here…” sighed Mattsun.

“Hopefully this is the last time we are back here,” you whispered. It had been a few weeks since graduation. Never did you think you’d be back to spray paint your own former high school.

Oikawa pulled out the cans of paint, setting them each on the ground.

“Ladies first,” he smiled. You picked up the purple paint, took the cap off and began to draw a large circle on the gym doors.

“That's an oval,” teased Makki. You groaned.

“You idiots can do it then.”

You filled in the circle with the purple paint before turning it over to Oikawa, Makki, and Mattsun. They began to draw an outline of an eagle and the letters spelling out ‘Shiratorizawa’.

“God what I would do to see the look on their faces when they see this,” said Iwaizumi. You chuckled.

“Told you my plan was full proof.”

“PAINT THE WALL NOT ME DAMN IT-”

“Oikawa shut up-”

“Makki shut up-”

“Now you listen here-”

As the boys continued to whisper-yell at each other, Iwaizumi took your hand and began to lead you around the corner of the gym.

“Iwa-”

“Don’t worry, they can handle being alone for a bit,” he smirked. Iwa had you leaned up against the side of the building, his arm just above your head looking down at you. The way he stared at you made your heart pound.

“You know you’re really cute when you’re determined,” he said.

“I know what I want,” you whispered. Iwaizumi bent his head down, touching his nose against yours. Your breath grew heavier and hotter as it mixed with his.

“I know what I want too.”

Iwaizumi didn’t waste another second to crash his lips against yours. There was something about the way that Iwaizumi kissed you that made your knees go weak. You pulled him closer to you, grabbing the collar of his shirt. Iwaizumi’s hands rested comfortably on your hips before slowly moving them onto your ass. The clashing of teeth and tongue was intoxicating. You could barely get enough.

“U-Uh guys…”

You ignored the voice, keeping your focus on your boyfriend's lips.

“GUYS!”

Iwaizumi pulled away from the kiss, annoyed.

“WHAT?”

“W-We’ve got company…”

You and Iwaizumi looked at each other, feeling your hearts drop to the floor. You slowly walked back to the gym doors. Makki, Oikawa, and Mattsun were frozen in their spots. They had the hoods of their sweatshirts on and their beanies lowered. You and Iwaizumi soon heard two pairs of footsteps walking towards you.

“Alright kids, just stay where you are,” said one of the police officers. You looked around to your friends. You bent down and picked up your skateboards.

“Hey now you listen to me, it’s gonna be easier for the both of us if you just do what we say. So drop the skateboards.”

You were shaking in your shoes, trying to figure a way out. You could see the two police cars in the background, parked in the school lot. The lights were still on and it looked like one of the officers had forgotten to shut their door. You soon were struck with an insane idea.

“Put your hands up. You’re trespassing on school property, not to mention the vandalism you just did,” said the second cop. You set your skateboard back down, your friends looking at you as if you were crazy.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing-“

“HEY NO TALKING!”

You placed your skateboard on the ground, slowly putting your foot on top.

“Police. Car.”

“What-”

“Police car. Now!”

You jumped onto your board, skating past the officers even before they had a clue what you were doing. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun followed you to the car.

“HEY GET BACK HERE!”

The officers chased after you, but weren’t fast enough. You made it to the car, your whole body shaking and your mind going a mile a minute.

“GET IN!” you shouted.

You hopped into the driver's seat of the car with the open door, keys still in the ignition.

“Idiots,” you mumbled to yourself. Iwaizumi got in the front seat with you as the rest piled in the back.

“FUCKING DRIVE Y/N!” order Oikawa. You removed the parking brake before stepping on the gas. You could hear the yelling of the officers behind you, but they soon faded as you speed away.

“I know you did not just steal a police car!” shouted Iwaizumi.

“Well would you rather be riding in the back of one with cuffs!?” You groaned. Your hands were shaky on the wheel, palms covered in nervous sweat. You didn’t even bother to check the speed you were going, running through every red light you came across.

“We’re fucked,” cried Makki.

“Y/N take us back to the damn school,” ordered Iwa. You looked at him with widened eyes.

“Are you crazy? Hell no!”

“If we turn ourselves we won’t get into as much trouble-”

“Keep driving Y/N, I’m not getting arrested!” butted in Mattsun. You looked in your rear-view mirror, only to see the second police car after you.

“FUCKING HELL-” You stepped on the gas even more, reaching close to 80 miles per hour.

“WE’VE GOTTA LOSE THEM!” shouted Oikawa.

“DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT! SORRY THAT THIS IS MY FIRST CAR CHASE DAMN IT!”

You made a wide turn onto a backroad, flipping the switch of lights on top of the car off. The second car still trailed behind.

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD Y/N TURN THIS FUCKING CAR AROUND-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Your adrenaline continued to rush as you drove. You searched and scanned your surrounds for any way out, or somewhere to hide.

“Y/N turn there!” Makki pointed to a fork in the road that lead to the woods. You jerked the steering wheel to the left, driving right into the woods entrance. You parked the car and turned off the engine.

“Everyone quiet!” You ordered. You looked behind you, waiting to see the other car. You watched as it drove past, entering the left side of the fork. You all let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re fucking crazy Y/N…” panted Iwaizumi. You chuckled.

“Well obviously.”

~

The five of you skated your way back to Oikawa’s basement, leaving the car where it was. Once you arrived, you all crashed onto the floor.

“I can’t believe that happened…” huffed Mattsun.

“I can’t believe we didn’t get caught…” you said.

“We did get caught dumbass! We almost died!” remarked Oikawa. You playfully hit his arm.

“We didn’t get caught. Just...interrupted.”

“Iwaizumi your girlfriend is insane,” sighed Makki. Iwaizumi chuckled.

“Hell yeah she is.” Iwaizumi pulled you towards him, having you rest your head on his arm.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he whispered. You smiled.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I yelled at you too.” You moved your hand to run through his hair.

“How about next time though, we do some legal for our activity of the night?” he suggested. You chuckled.

“Admit it, that was pretty fun.”

“Yup, you’re insane.”

“Wait, did you finish the painting?” You sat up and looked at the three boys. They looked at each other, smiling.

“Don’t worry, we finished it.”

~

The following morning you all found yourselves seated in Oikawa’s basement. You were curled up on the couch next to Iwaizumi. Your phone buzzed.

“Who is it?” he asked. You raised a brow.

“A call from Kindaichi.” You answered the call, placing him on speaker.

“What’s up first year?”

“DID YOU HEAR? SOMEONE VANDALIZED THE GYM!”

The five at you looked at each other.

“No way… do you know who?”

“Those jerks from Shiratorizawa! They left graffiti and everything! They even stole a police car and it was found this morning. Apparently the police are on their way to Shiratorizawa right now.”

You tried your best not to laugh, keeping your cool on the phone. Iwaizumi kissed your cheek, before high-fiving his friends. You turned back to the phone call.

“That’s crazy…”

•

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful ]

[bazzledazzled]

Would You Be So Kind (As To Fall In Love With Me)

Fic for @absolute-nightmare for the @coexchange!! 

Description: Simon Snow doesn’t remember quite when he fell in love with Baz. Maybe it was when he first met him, running gracefully across the football field with his hair tied up. Or maybe it was when they were playing video games at a sleepover and Baz’s leg bumped against his, sending a thumping pulse through his heart. Or maybe it was this year, when Baz came out to him and Simon realized he had a chance.

They’ve been friends since the beginning of High School, but Simon longed for something more.

Tags: High School AU, Normal AU, Friends to Lovers, a bit of Punk/Pastel AU

Trigger Warnings: Minor mention of alcohol abuse and emotional abuse in one of the paragraphs

I hope you enjoy!! I decided to go with a bit of a Highschool AU for this one and it evolved into a friends to lovers fic so yeah! Enjoy :)

Read it on AO3 or read it below -> 

Simon Snow and Baz Pitch were polar opposites, anyone could see that.

Anyone who spared a glance at the odd pair knew this, from Baz’s obnoxious floral shirts and well maintained hair, to Simon’s haggard appearance and leather jacket.They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, complimenting each other, like Persephone and Hades, or yin and yang. Despite everything; who they were, where they came from, and what they looked like, they still were inseparable. They matched.

Simon Snow doesn’t remember quite when he fell in love with Baz. Maybe it was when he first met him, running gracefully across the football field with his hair tied up. Or maybe it was when they were playing video games at a sleepover and Baz’s leg bumped against his, sending a thumping pulse through his heart. Or maybe it was this year, when Baz came out to him and Simon realized he had a chance.

They’ve been friends since the beginning of High School, but Simon longed for something more. He laid awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, his heart thrumming in his chest. He thought of Baz’s inky black hair and thought about what it might feel like to run his fingers through it. He thought about how he always smelled like something citrusy and crisp, like Earl Grey tea that made Simon wish for a soft, domestic morning with him full of soft kisses and morning tea.

And Simon hated it. No, hate wasn’t the strong enough. He loathed it. He loathed it because here was someone who was completely and utterly perfect, someone he actually had a shot with that wouldn’t care that he’s a guy and knows him inside and out, but for some reason Simon kept holding himself back. He held himself back, not daring to test the waters of their friendship and ruin what they had. He didn’t want to lose Baz as a friend, crush or not. He refused.

So Simon kept his crush bottled away deep down inside him, not daring to let it see the sunshine. He thought that maybe, if he tucked it away, he might be able to shake off these feelings. Maybe they would dissipate and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Maybe it would work.

————

“We need to find Si a girlfriend,” Agatha says at lunch, her face screwed with determination. Simon sighs, putting down the scone he was eating.

“Ags, please tell me you’re not on this again.”

“Oh she totally is,” Penny says, waving a hand dismissively. “And she has a point. You’ve been moping about like a sad puppy lately saying you’re lonely and want a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a girlfriend,” Simon says, stabbing a strawberry with a fork.

“A boyfriend, then,” Penny says, not a hint of a question in her voice. Simon almost chokes.

“Pen. I don’t need a relationship.”

“Then why do you keep moaning about being single?” Agatha says with a condescending tilt in her brow. Simon huffs, averting his gaze.

“Because I want a boyfriend.”

“Aha! I knew it.” Penny grins victoriously. “Now come on. You have to have a crush on someone. Give us some ideas.”

“I don’t like anyone, Pen.”

“What about that one kid? Rhys I think it was?” Simon scrunches his nose.

“Right. Not him. What about Phillipia?”

“Oh god no.”

“Right. Hmm....” A chair beside Simon moves out and a lunch tray plops down on the table as Baz slides in next to him. He’s wearing a pink shirt with red roses on it and dark jeans that make Simon flush. He pushes his hair out of his eyes, a smile on his lips as he looks at Simon. His gaze lands on Penny and he sighs.

“What are you three up to this time?”

“Who says we’re up to something?” Agatha says, leaning over the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Bunce has that look in her eyes and Snow just looks lost, so obviously you’re hatching an elaborate scheme.”

“We’re trying to find someone for Simon to date,” Penny says, tapping her fingers against the table.

“Ah. Good luck with that. It would take some pretty skilled matchmakers to find someone to date Snow.”

“Hey! I could be a good boyfriend.”

“I have no doubt.” The look in Baz’s eyes is... intense. Simon has no idea how he should read it.

“Hey Baz, you’re gay right?” Agatha pipes in. Baz snorts.

“Does this have a point?”

“I mean, you’re gay and single, Simon’s single and somewhat into dudes.... you know you guys probably could....” Agatha gestured vaguely. Simon’s heart starts to beat out of his chest, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. His stomach twists dangerously and he feels like he might puke. 

Fuck.

Baz rolls his eyes. “Ok, Wellbelove.” They move on to a new topic, Penny rambling about some book she read and Baz seeming completely invested in the conversation. But one thing sticks in Simon’s mind even after lunch.

Baz didn’t say no.

——————

When Simon gets to Baz’s car after school that day, Simon immediately knows what he’s going to say. It’s obvious in the way his brow scrunches in concern as Simon runs his hands through his messy curls.

“Is your lip bleeding?” Baz says, reaching out his hand towards Simon’s cheek, then pulling it back.

“It’s fine,” Simon mumbles, even though it isn’t. It’s the second time this month this has happened.

“Simon...” Baz says in that soft voice, the one he saves for when it’s just the two of them. He picks up Simon’s hand, running his thumb over Simon’s knuckles that are cracked and bleeding, rough from countless fights. They’re all over stupid things, but Simon can’t seem to stop himself. He can’t just turn away when someone corners him, calling him names. He can’t just keep walking when he sees some kid picking on another kid in the halls. And he definitely can’t stop himself when he hears people throwing homophobic comments about Baz behind his back.

“What happened?” Baz says, looking at him with the same sternness he always uses in these situations. Simon huffs.

“Just some kid. It’s not important.” But it is. Because it wasn’t just some kid. It was some kid gossiping about Baz, saying mean, hurtful things. It was some kid who, when Simon told him to stop, taunted him and called Baz his boyfriend, not realizing that that’s all Simon’s ever wanted. It was some kid who threw the first punch, not realizing that Simon has done this before, and he wasn’t scared.

Baz sighs, squeezing Simon’s hand in his. It makes his heart leap, beating so fast that he wondered if maybe this would be the moment. Maybe he’d confess to Baz, announcing his undying love, and Baz would say he felt the same way too, and then they’d kiss in the school parking lot on the hood of Baz’s expensive car, their future set from here on out.

Baz pulls his hands away, grabbing his keys from his pocket. “Get in the car, you nightmare. We’re going to the mall.” Simon groans.

“Again? You were just there yesterday.”

“Yes but the Christmas present I got for Mordelia is something she already has so I have to return it and get a new one. Please? You know you’re better than me at picking presents for her.”

“Alright, fine. But you’re buying me a pretzel.”

“Fine.”

—————

Christmas break was at the end of the week, and Simon didn’t want it to come. Well, he did, because it would mean a break from the mountains of school work he had, but he also didn’t, because it meant it would be a lot less time with his friends and a lot more time with his father, pretending they weren’t a dysfunctional family.

Simon’s father wasn’t terrible. He never hit him, but he also wasn’t the best. He was drunk a lot of the time and was always yelling about how much of a disappointment Simon was. He didn’t like that he didn’t make the football team and he hated that Simon’s grades were just barely passing. None of Simon’s victories seemed like victories to him, and Simon was just done with it. He wanted to find a way to be away from the house as much as possible during break, but he also knew that his friends had families that they needed to be with for the holidays, too.

Nonetheless, when Simon came home on Friday night to his dad drunk in the living room, mumbling incoherently, he turned right around and called Baz.

Baz picked up on the second ring.

“Hey is everything ok?”

“Do you want to go out for dinner,” Simon says in a rush. Baz coughs.

“Um—“

“I mean— not out— I mean, yes, I just-” Simon huffs. “Can we hang out tonight? I know it's the last minute and all that but I just... I don’t want to go home.” Baz doesn’t hesitate.

“I’ll be at your house in five.”

————

This, in Baz’s opinion, was one of the worst parts of being gay. Yes, there were the homophobes and the bullies and his not at all accepting father, but he could deal with that. He could tune them out until all that was left was white noise.

But this, this was something Baz couldn’t ignore. How was he supposed to handle a crush on his best friend? If he asked Simon out directly, it could backfire on him and he’d ruin the friendship they spent four years building up. But if he didn’t say anything, he obsessed over his crush, picking apart every little detail of his interactions with Simon wondering if maybe, maybe Simon might feel the same towards him.

So when Simon called him at 5pm, asking if he wanted to go out to dinner, Baz was left wondering how to interpret it. It was probably just the same old “I’m lonely and I need someone to hang out with.” But if that were the case, why didn’t Simon call Agatha or Penny? He was much closer to them. Or why not suggest a sleepover with everyone? Or invite everyone to dinner? The more and more they hung out alone, the more Baz drove himself crazy wondering.

Maybe he was blowing it out of proportion, but it still didn’t stop his beating heart as he pulled into Simon’s driveway. Simon climbed in, his curls wild and free and his blue eyes piercing through the darkness. He smiled his warm smile at Baz, a smile that was full of dimples and sunshine and made Baz's heart do belly flops.

“Where to?” Baz asks, putting the car in reverse. Simon’s eyes light up.

“iHop.”

————————

Simon drowned his fifth pancake in maple syrup and butter. He asked for more butter a while ago and they brought him a plate full of the stuff. He slathered it on his golden pancakes, laying down a thick layer of white saturated fat.

It was absolutely disgusting.

When Baz became friends with Simon at the beginning of freshman year, he learned to look away when Simon was eating. He was a little messy and lacked more than a few table manners, but it wasn’t terrible. None of Simon’s eating habits were awful, save for the unholy slathering of butter. Baz didn’t understand it, nor did he want to.

“I think there’s more butter and syrup on that pancake than actual pancake.” Simon swallows his bite, grinning toothily at Baz.

“It’s delicious though.”

“Disgusting.” Yet Baz still couldn’t help but think about how beautiful Simon’s dopey grin was and the way his cheeks turned red.

“You wanna try a bit?” Simon asks, holding up a fork with a bit of pancake on it. Syrup slowly dropped from it, golden brown like Simon’s curls. Baz wrinkled his nose.

“I think I’ll skip on that, thanks.” Simon shrugs, continuing to shovel food in his mouth. Baz ordered some eggs, but Simon ended up eating more of them than he did. Baz never had much of an appetite, but Simon’s seemed never-ending.

“You excited for Christmas?” Simon asks, looking up at Baz with his plain blue eyes. Baz snorts.

“Not particularly, but I’ll get by.” Simon frowns.

“Your dad?” Baz runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, but what else is new.” Simon reaches out across the table, taking Baz’s hand in a comforting manner. Baz gulps.

“Guess we both god shitty fathers, huh?” Baz offers a weak smile.

“Guess so.” Simon bites his lip, as if thinking. His eyes spark in the way they do when he gets an idea or is about to make an impulse decision.

“Hey we should try to hang out over break! Get away from family and stuff, you know?” Baz smiles.

“Yeah.” Simon taps his fingers against the wooden table.

“How do you feel about going to see a movie on Monday?”

——————

It’s not a date.

Obviously it’s not a date. There will never be a universe where Simon Snow asks Baz Pitch out on a date other than in Baz’s dreams.

So why was Baz stressing over his outfit for the past hour? He honestly had no idea.

Nothing he tried on seemed to work. Some stuff looked like he was trying too hard, others looked like he wasn’t trying hard enough. It was honestly too much work considering that they were just friends going to see a movie together in the dark where they won’t be able to see each other anyway so theoretically what they wear doesn’t even matter, but Baz was Baz and he had to be extra about everything.

Eventually he settled on a light grey button down and a pair of jeans. It wasn’t one of his best outfits, but it was casual enough for him that it didn’t seem like he was trying too hard. Even though he spent an hour on his hair alone.

The drive over to Simon’s house was shorter than Baz would’ve liked. He didn’t have enough time to organize his thoughts before he was in the driveway, watching as Simon locked the door behind him and bounded down the front steps of his house, his hair bouncing off his forehead. He was wearing a worn grey sweater and  tattered jeans. He looked slightly like a disaster, but that didn’t stop Baz’s heart from pounding. In fact, he found it almost endearing.

That didn’t mean he didn’t make fun of him, though.

“Snow your sweater sleeves have holes in them for god's sake,” Baz says as Simon shuts the car door behind him. Simon smiles back at him.

“It’s comfy though.” Baz rolls his eyes, a hint of a smile on his face. They lapse into a comfortable silence as Baz pulls out of the driveway and onto the street. Simon fiddles with the radio, turning the dial until he finds a song he likes. Some American song starts playing and a guitar solo fills the car. Simon starts to mumble along to the lyrics, bobbing his head and tapping his fingers against his legs. He smiles, getting more and more into it. Baz flashes him a look as he bursts into chorus, singing at the top of his lungs. Baz laughs, shaking his head. The song finishes and Simon grins, his eyes wild and bright.

This goes on for a few more songs, with Simon obviously trying to get Baz to join in on his shenanigans. Baz refuses, but can’t seem to help himself once Bohemian Rhapsody starts playing. Simon’s smile only seems to get more dazzling.

They make it to the movie theater, already buzzing and laughing.  Simon skips ahead of Baz, the sun catching in his bronze curls as he turns to him, almost creating a sort of halo around him.

Their hands brush as they head to the ticket line and Baz wonders if he might be dreaming.

_____________

So Love, Simon may have not been the best movie to go see on Simon’s not-date with Baz. For starters, Baz started crying halfway through.

In retrospect, Simon should’ve expected this outcome, even though he didn’t realize Baz was a crier. The entire plot of the movie is something that resonated with so many people, especially people like Baz and… well, he guesses himself, even though he’s not really sure what he is.

Simon never knows how to deal with someone who’s crying. Back when he used to date Agatha, there would be times where she’d have a breakdown over something and everytime Simon felt like he was making the situation worse instead of helping. He’s not cut out for this.

Tentatively, he reaches out to Baz, taking his hand. They’re rougher and boneier than Simon’s, and a lot longer. He blushes as Baz looks over at him. Baz squeezes his hand and Simon feels his heart stutter in his chest, faltering for a moment as their eyes connect.

They don’t let go for the rest of the movie.

________________

“Pen. I have an issue.”

________________

“Ags….. we have a slight problem.”

_________________

“What is it Si? Is it that math test? I told you you have it down you just need to breathe and remember what we worked on.”

_______________

“Since when do you not have a problem, Baz? You’re literally a bigger Drama Queen than me.”

_______________

“No Pen…. it’s not that it’s just….”

_______________

“This is a real problem, Agatha, listen—“

————————-

“I kind of, maybe, sort of, possibly—“

————————

“I may or may not have—“

______________

“Have a crush on Baz.”

_______________

“Fallen in love with Simon.”

______________

Agatha huffs, hanging up the phone after listening to a 30 minute rant on Baz’s part about how perfect Simon’s hair is and the specific shade of blue his eyes are. Honestly .

Immediately, the phone rings again. Grunting, Agatha picks it up, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Baz I swear to god if I hear one more word about Simon holding your hand I will end you.”

“So he did call you?”

“Penny!”

“Let me guess. You just got off the phone with Baz and his emo bullshit about how Simon will never love him.”

“How did you know?” Penny sighs.

“Because. I just got off of the phone with Simon and his emo bullshit about how Baz will never see him as anything other than a friend.”

“They’re idiots, aren’t they?”

“Yep.” There’s a moment of silence.

“Are we going to intervene?”

“Of course we are.”

________________

All things considered, Baz knew the love letter was a bad idea. He knew the unspoken rule about love letters: if you weren’t planning on sending them, you shouldn’t write them.

But they were a great way to get out frustrations. It was a way for Baz to use his pent up emotion towards something productive and fantasize about telling Simon how he truly felt.

Simon was never meant to read it.

__________________

Was it wrong? Possibly. Was it needed? Most definitely.

Valentine’s day is this Friday, and both Penny and Agatha are sick and tired of Simon and Baz’s complaining, Simon a lot more than Baz. They just didn’t seem to be able to stop with their lovesick moping and at this point it was ridiculous. Neither of them were courageous enough to make the first move, so it was left to Penny and Agatha to make it happen.

When Agatha saw the love letter, she knew exactly what to do.

___________________

Friday was one of the gloomiest days of the week. It was raining, the sky was cloudy, and Simon woke up late and barely had time to run out to Baz’s car to make it to school. Baz threw a fit about it, but Simon couldn’t see why it mattered, considering they still made it there half an hour before school started. Baz complained about how the rain made his hair frizz up as he desperately tried to slick it back again with no avail. Simon liked it better this way, falling loosely around his face in waves, but he didn’t tell Baz that.  

When they arrived, they found that the halls were decorated with bright red and pink hearts and couples stood close together, whispering things in each other’s ears with smiles on their faces as everyone was swept up into the euphoria of Valentines Day. Boyfriends gave their girlfriends roses and cheesy heart shaped boxes filled with chocolate. The hallways were a mess of teenage hormones and whispers of happily ever afters.

Baz seemed to be in a particularly sour mood today, and Simon didn’t blame him. Valentine’s day was just another one of those made up holidays that encouraged consumerism and made single people feel like shit (at least that’s what Baz had said on multiple occasions).

Simon and Baz did all the things they usually did in the morning before school. They dropped off Baz’s violin in the orchestra room, they dropped the books Baz finished off at the library, and met up with Penny and Agatha. Agatha gave them all heart shaped lollipops and little handwritten cards that made Simon tear up a little and give her a big hug. Baz rolled his eyes, but he had a small smile on his face as he whispered a curt, “thank you” to Agatha.

The bell rang. The overhead speakers played some cheesy love songs from the early 2000s, when love songs were in their prime. Baz rolled his eyes and made some sort of snarky remark about the music that made everyone laugh. They walked to class and parted ways, Simon and Penny heading for their math class and Baz and Agatha going towards English. They listened to the monotonous morning announcements and Penny gave Simon a look when he played on his phone instead of paying attention.

Sighing, Simon pulled out his math textbook, grunting at the weight of it. Most teachers didn’t even issue textbooks to the students, let alone used them. At this point, most of them were out of date and teachers found the internet to be a lot more useful. But not Ms. Ortiz. She refused to use the internet and did everything the old fashioned way: textbooks and a white board. A student tried to talk her into using the smart board, claiming that it would be a lot easier to do notes with, but she refused, saying they didn’t have time to fuss with projectors and calibrations.

Simon opened up his textbook to the section they were currently working on. He already had the page marked since he and Baz were working on it last night. It was honestly a miracle Simon passed any of his classes before Baz came along. He was such a calm and patient teacher, not caring how many times Simon messed up. It’s funny, because Simon thought he would be the opposite, but he wasn’t. It’s no wonder he wanted to get a teaching degree when he got out of high school.

Penny taps Simon’s shoulder.

“What now, Pen?” She holds out a white envelope with his name written on it in neat, elegant cursive.

“This fell out of your bag.” Simon frowns, taking it from her hesitantly. He hasn’t seen it before, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was some letter from his teacher addressed to his father that he shoved to the bottom of his bookbag. His bag was always a disaster of crumpled papers that Penny and Baz teased him relentlessly for. They insisted he organize it, but Simon didn’t really see the point. It was just going to become a mess again.

“Thanks.” Curiously, Simon unfolds the letter, wondering what it might be. He doesn’t remember receiving it at all, so he has no idea what he should expect.

Immediately, he recognizes Baz’s handwriting:

Simon,

I hate you. I hate the way you make me feel, the way you make my heart beat out of my chest and the way you smile at me in a way that makes me feel special. I hate how you’re always there when I need you and will do everything you can to help someone in need. I hate how you have this stupid hero’s complex where you feel like you need to protect everyone in this goddamn school. I hate how you try to hide your pain from me, putting on a brave face. I want to reach out to you, to comfort you, to let you know that it’s ok and you have people who love and care for you; that you aren’t alone.

I don’t know what even drove us to befriend each other Freshman year. We were from completely different universes, but somehow you chipped away at my walls until they crumbled into nothing, and I hate you for it. I hate what the sight of you does to me and I know you will never feel the same.

Simon Snow, you beautiful disaster. How could you be so cruel to make me fall in love with you?

Penny’s looking up at Simon with a curious glance, acting like she isn’t interested when she very much is. Simon doesn’t say anything, just grins widely as he folds the note back up and sets it under his textbook. Penny raises her eyebrow. It’s a skill Simon knows she’s picked up from Baz, but she refuses to admit it.

“You look like Christmas came early. You feeling alright, Simon?”

“Wonderful.”

___________________

Simon corners Baz in the hallway at the end of the day as he’s heading to his car. He bounds up to him, looking like a ray of sunshine as he smiles brightly. Something has him in an outrageously good mood and Baz has no idea what that could be.

Baz, on the other hand, isn’t feeling as good. His teachers assigned him an outrageous amount of homework and he got a low mark on one of his quizzes, even though he knew the material and studied before the test. Baz Pitch was not one for failure, and he felt very embarrassed when Agatha pointed it out to him.

On top of all that, his guilty pleasure love letter to Simon was missing. He hasn’t seen it in two days and he has no idea where it could be, or if it’s in someone else’s hands. Thank god he didn’t sign it. It’s better if nobody knows about his silly crush on Simon.

“Baz,” Simon breathes, his cheeks dusting with red as he stands in front of Baz, looking up through his wild curls. Baz can barely stop his own blush that rises into his cheeks.

“Snow. Need a ride?” Simon looks around.

“Yeah um….” He runs a hand through his curls. “Yeah.”

They walk out to Baz’s car in silence. Usually, Baz is fine with silence between them. It’s always a comforting silence that doesn’t really have a need to be filled, but something about this silence was different. It was thicker, full of a sort of tension Baz couldn’t quite place. Simon seemed to be anxious about something, as if he were trying to find a way to put it into words.  

Simon Snow is shit with words. He’s gotten better over the years, sure. English class did wonders on him, but he did seem to have a hard time annunciating his feelings in a way Baz could understand. After four years of friendship, Baz is proud to say he can usually interpret Simon’s mutterings, but it wasn’t always like that. Middle school was awful for the both of them and Baz was always frustrated with Simon’s incapability to string together sentences. He was short tempered, and it took him a while to finally give Simon a chance to get out what he needed to say.

So he did the same now. He didn’t say anything, didn’t pressure him, didn’t force him to say anything. He let the silence stretch on, letting Simon fill it on his own terms when he was ready

They climb into the car and just as Baz is about to put it in reverse, Simon puts his hands over Baz’s, stopping him from leaving. Baz looks up at him, grey eyes meeting blue. There’s a moment of tension, then Simon pulls his hands away.

“Baz, I—“ Simon stops, furrowing his brow.

“Go on, Snow.”

“It’s just…. I guess…. I just… Ugh.” Simon pulls at his curls in frustration, his face getting redder by the minute.

“It’s ok. Calm down. Take your time.” Simon takes a deep breath.

“It’s just…. I saw your letter.” Baz freezes, going stiff all over.

“What letter?”

“The one you wrote to me? And slipped into my bag?”

Oh no.

_____________

“Shit.” Baz knocks his head against the steering wheel, groaning.

“Look, Simon I'm sorry I—“

“I feel the same.”

“What?” Simon gulps.

“I… I like you too.” Baz scoffs.

“No you don’t,” he says, leaning back in his seat and brushing his charcoal locks out of his eyes. Simon lays a gentle hand on his arm.

“Yes I do, Baz.” Silence fills the car. Simon feels like he can’t breathe as each moment stretches on, the only audible sounds being their heartbeats and breaths.

“I—“ Simon says, averting his gaze as he coughs awkwardly, seeming very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, it must’ve been a mistake I—“ suddenly, so quickly it happens between one blink and the next, Baz grabs his shirt and pulls Simon to him, planting a firm kiss on his lips. Almost as quickly as he leaned in, Baz pulls away.

But Simon doesn’t let him. He puts his hands on either side of Baz’s face, kissing him with years of pining and desperation. He feels Baz sigh against his lips, bringing his hands up to rest on Simon’s broad shoulders, not daring to move them. Simon threads his fingers through Baz’s hair, marveling at how soft it is. He feels like he’s floating, his heart beating as fast as it can, on the verge of exploding. He doesn’t really mind though. Because he’s kissing Baz. I’m kissing Baz.

Simon pulls away, a grin on his face. His face is so open in that moment, so vulnerable. Baz feels a small smile that’s unbearably soft pull at his own lips.

“I like this version of you, Baz.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I like it when we aren’t friends.”

“Wow that’s really nice—“

“I wanna be your boyfriend,” Simon says, a wide grin on his face. Baz sucks in a breath, his grey eyes searching Simon’s.

“Yes,” he says breathily. Simon grins and leans in for another kiss.

----

“Welbelove this was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“What ever could you be talking about, my dearest Basilton?” she asks innocently. Baz huffs.

“You stole my letter! And gave it to Simon!”

“Oh that? It sounds more of a Penny plot to me.”

“Wellbelove.”

“Don’t get mad at me, Basil. You got the boy, didn’t you?” Baz can practically hear her wiggling her eyebrows at him over the phone. He’s sitting in his car in Simon’s driveway as Simon walks up to his doorstep. He turns around at the last moment, grinning brightly and waving back at Baz. Baz waves back.

“I hate you more than you even know, Wellbelove.”

“Thought so,” she says, hanging up on him. Baz can’t help the smile that crosses his lips.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It, Part Sixteen

Jensen Ackles x Musician!Reader

Masterlist - Contains Chapter Links & Wardrobe Collages

A/N: This is a much shorter chapter than the rest, but I hope you enjoy it! 

Spotify Playlist

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him.

What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mild Violence, Talk of Domestic Abuse

Chapter Summary: With the festival rapidly approaching, everyone is both on edge and excited for what lies ahead.

Chaper Warnings: None

WC: 6.5K

Series Beta’d by @closetspngirl​​

Dee

The private investigator Dee hired last Spring had been worth every penny. The information he delivered on Jensen’s new girlfriend gave her more than she could have hoped for. Her plan to contact the little twit’s ex-boyfriend seemed like a good idea at first; but as the weeks turned into months, even Dee could see Nathan’s instability grow. Once word of the incident at Jensen’s brewery reached her, she knew that maybe things had gone too far. All she wanted to do was try and cause some drama, hoping Jensen would shy away from the beach brat he was suddenly so obsessed with and come back to her. But as she sat, nipping at her cuticles while waiting in her rented Beamer for Nathan to show, she realized what a futile effort it had been.

The plan completely backfired, only pushing the two of them closer. Gen had let it slip that Y/N was now living in Vancouver with Jensen, completely bringing Dee’s hopes of a reconciliation crumbling to the ground. Even she had never been asked to move to Vancouver with him while they were together, and was instantly crushed when she heard the news. There was no chance of Jensen coming back to her; Dee knew that now it was a matter of protecting herself. Only God knew exactly what Nathan was capable of, but with the glimpses Dee had caught of him, she seriously began to fear how this would backlash onto her, if her part in everything had come out. 

Everything she had done up until that point hadn’t been illegal, really. All she did was make a few phone calls and provoke a stranger into reacting. Yet somehow she knew that if Nathan was caught, and started talking, her name would be spoken and she’d have some things to answer for. Knowing the light it would paint her in, knowing how it could affect her career, Dee needed to be sure that Nathan would keep her out of it. After all, HE was the one who took things too far. 

Dee turned her delicate wrist and checked the time on her watch; already a quarter past ten in the morning. Nathan had promised to meet her early that day outside of a small diner located in the outskirts of Austin. It was two days before the festival was to kick off, and she just needed a few reassurances before the big day. She still hated Y/N and loved Jensen, but deep down she finally conceded that SHE wasn’t the one he loved; Y/N was. 

Another twenty minutes passed with no sign of Nathan. When she checked her watch again and saw it was nearly eleven, she closed her eyes and felt her stomach bottom out. Dee pushed the start button on her rental and hung her head, long strands of red hair obscuring her face and the handful of regretful tears that ran through her makeup. A soft, yet shaky laugh turned into shaking sobs as the air conditioning began to blow her hair back lightly. She drew in a deep breath and brought her vision back up towards the windshield. Off to the right of the old titanium plated diner, stood a tall, lanky man in a grey hoodie and ripped jeans. She felt his eyes on her and a mild bout of nerves raced through her veins. The man’s hood was drawn tightly around his head, leaving his face in a swirl of shadows. Regardless, she could feel his eyes on her and knew that it was Nathan. 

They had only met in person once before earlier that Spring, and it was a brief encounter at best. Dee had been hesitant to meet face to face, but Nathan insisted. He said he was worried for Y/N, and the kind of people she’d gotten involved with. He was pushy and borderline manic, so Dee agreed to meet at the same diner she was now parked in front of. They drank coffee and Dee listened as Nathan recounted his surprise visit with Y/N. The way he explained it, she had turned her back on him, and then provoked Jensen into attacking him. His expression was concerned and fretful, but Dee knew it had all been an act. She was an actress, after all, and she could spot his lies a hundred miles away. Yet, it didn’t stop her from encouraging him to fight back, and fight for his girl.

The break-in at the condo hadn’t been all her idea, though as she sat in nervous self-reflection, she wouldn’t be able to deny planting the seed of thought in Nathan’s head. But, her little birdies told her that the amount of destruction that had been left was extensive, and far more than she felt comfortable with. 

She killed the engine of the car, again, and slowly opened the driver’s side door. The minute it cracked open, Nathan began to approach her. When he was closer, she could see his features were drawn and his complexion turned ashy. The dark circles under his eyes and the pale tone of his lips caused her brow to furrow.

“Jesus, Nathan. What the hell happened to you?”

Nathan shrugged. “Life.”

“Well, maybe you should rethink the life you’re living if it’s leaving you looking like that.” Dee gave him a good once over, and noticed his hands were shaking. “Are you on drugs?”

He let out a deep, haunting laugh. “What the fuck you know about the drug life, Princess?”

“N-Nothing really, but I’ve been around enough people that do them to know what a junkie looks like.”

“You don’t know shit about shit. What the hell do you want, hm? You nagged me to get here so you could just put me down like everyone else?” His words weren’t threatening, but the tone and body language he delivered them with, was.

“No, I just… shit, man… this all got out of hand. I just wanted to check in, make sure you were okay,” she lied, doing her best to keep her face from betraying her. “I’m concerned.”

“Are you now?” Nathan snorted, and pushed the hood off his head, revealing his shaggy, dirty hair that was plastered to his head thanks to the heat of the Austin summer. “What made you so concerned? I did what you asked. I tried to break them up. But…” he trailed off, his eyes looking in Dee’s direction, but it was clear that he wasn’t actually seeing her.

“I was wrong, okay? Clearly those two idiots are happy together. So, I wanted to tell you that you could stop trying to break them up.”

Nathan shook his head slowly, and in a way that caused a bolt of anxiety to run down Dee’s spine. “Naw, can’t do that.”

“Can’t--can’t do what?”

“Stop trying to break them up…. Y/N is all I got left in this world.”

“But, what if she doesn’t want you? Then what? Do you really want her if she doesn’t want you? You deserve someone who loves you for who and what you are. Don’t get hung up on some past relationship because you think it's what you deserve. Trust me, Nathan, I speak from experience.”

“I give two shits about your experience. Y/N is my girl,” he snarled at her, “...always has been. So why don’t you bug the fuck off and leave me alone.”

“I will, I promise. But first I just need to make sure…” Dee let her words hang in the air, hoping he would get their meaning without her having to actually say it. From his expression, she knew that he got her point, but the concerning grin that unfurled on his face told her he wasn’t going to cut her an inch of slack. “...are you… I mean, can you, leave my name out of it?”

“It?” he asked, goading her into having to say the words.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Jesus.. Fine. Please leave my name out of any involvement with whatever scheme you come up with next? Yes, I wanted them broken up, but the things you’ve done… I can’t be a part of it.”

“Too late, Princess. You’re part of it. And if I go down for any of this bullshit, so do you.”

Jensen

In the few weeks after their vacation at the shore, Jensen and Y/N were busier than ever. Each day brought some sort of hurdle that one or both of them needed to clear. As days dwindled down towards the start of the festival, they were more determined than ever to make it the best weekend Austin had ever seen. A few last minute additions to the various stage line ups caused some headaches, but they made it work and in the end. Jensen was still in awe watching Y/N handle the musicians, the vendors, the sponsors, the various charity groups involved, and all while she was trying to get her own music set list together. Not to mention practicing via video conference with Robbie and the rest of Louden Swain. 

For most of his life, Jensen always wondered if a woman like her existed. Y/N was by no means perfect; she could be moody, and a bit of a slob which sometimes drove him crazy. Then, he would see her sitting on the couch, legs crossed in some ungodly way, with her head buried in her computer or a guitar on her lap, and any of her imperfections just melted away. Y/N did little else other than eat, sleep and breathe the festival. There were times in those weeks where despite the hectic schedule of planning and also filming the show, he half wished it was over already. Jensen wanted to start his life with Y/N, be with her without the current pressure that sat on both their shoulders. He and Jared had discussed on numerous occasions that maybe it was time for Supernatural to come to an end, giving them the opportunity to explore life outside of their precious Impala. But it wasn’t until those weeks between Seaside and the festival, that he was seriously considering it. 

The idea of not living and working in Vancouver with his best friend normally caused a mild panic to settle into his gut. However, the last time he and Jared had discussed it, they both felt that the end was in sight. Jensen never brought it up to Y/N, never felt like the right time. With all their respective traveling and work loads, trying to plan a future needed to be put on the back burner. As much as it killed him to do so, he knew it was best for both their sakes. He decided once the festival was over he’d bring it up to her. Then, they could make a plan. If there was one thing Jensen knew for absolutely certainty, it was that he didn’t see any type of future without her in it.

They were knee deep in filming the seventh episode of the season, so if a decision was to be made about the future of the show, it had to be soon. Production was shutting down for five days solely so the entire cast and crew could fly down for the festival. Every single one of them had agreed to volunteer, or help out somehow, and it warmed his heart more than he could put into words. These people had become his extended family, a support system when he felt he had reached rock bottom, and some of the best damn human beings he’d ever met.

Filming had wrapped for the extended weekend, and Jensen was feeling that last scene in every muscle and bone. Fight scenes were always fun to block out, but once it got to actually throwing the stuntmen around, and executing the moves on camera it tended to wear him out. As Jensen plodded back to his trailer, both relieved and exhausted, he noticed a light was on inside, and saw the shadow of his best friend moving about. A little smirk twitched on his face as he climbed the metal steps to the trailer and quietly pushed open the door.

Jared was singing under his breath as Jensen walked in unnoticed. Jensen leaned against the door watching him, trying not to laugh as Jared’s head bobbed to the song stuck in his head. It was when Jared started making guitar riff noises that Jensen’s resolve broke, and he started clapping loudly, making his best friend nearly jump out of his skin.

“Bravo my man!” Jensen teased and walked slowly through the large trailer. “Hey, how come we didn’t find you a slot in the festival? With pipes like that--”

“Shut up,” Jared sighed and sat down on the leather couch, still clutching his chest from Jensen’s sudden intrusion. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“Yeah, well, now you know what your singing does to me.”

“I’m sorry, DEAN, I thought we were done filming for today.” Jared rolled his eyes, but was unable to hide his own smile at their banter. “Seriously though, I thought we were done. Took you long enough to get back here.”

“Had to re-block one of the fight scenes. I was completely off my game, man. I don’t know if it’s exhaustion or what, but I could feel myself half-assing it.”

“Dude, do you not realize the year you’ve had? There are times I am amazed you’re still standing.”

Jensen shrugged it off and grabbed two cold beers from the mini-fridge, before handing one to Jared and sitting on the recliner across from him. 

“Not like we haven’t been here before,” Jensen replied, but he knew what Jared really meant. Ignoring the look he could feel coming from the other side of the room, he leaned forward in the chair and finally met Jared’s eyes. “Speaking of… I think me, you and Misha really need to sit down and talk.”

Jared snorted a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, I agree. It’s why I’m here, actually.”

After so many years together, the two friends could talk without words. Due to previous discussions and the telepathy that had developed through more than a decade of friendship, neither had to say what was on their mind. 

Jared raised his beer and Jensen followed suit. They clincked the bottles together in cheers and each took a long draw of the dark brew. 

“To one final season of Supernatural,” Jensen said with Jared nodding in agreement. 

“To one more kick ass ride,” Jared smiled and took another pull from the bottle. 

They sat in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision slowly rolling off their shoulders. The air in the trailer felt lighter somehow, as if just saying the words out loud relieved some of the tension it had contained. 

“Misha on board?” Jensen asked and looked up to see his friend nodding. 

“He is. He’s broken up about it as much as we are, but he knows its time.”

Jensen just nodded and sat back in his chair. “Think we got one more year in us?”

“Damn straight we do. Hell, I know we have another FIVE years in us. Truth is, I think we are just both ready for the next thing… whatever that looks like.”

Again, Jensen nodded in agreement but sat quietly, contemplating what that thing was. “Do you know what you want to do?” 

Jared shook his head. “Not really. A few offers have come in for movies, a new show or two, but nothing that really jumps up at me. I just know I want to be home more, help Gen with the kids. Actually be there and see them grow up.” He paused and looked at Jensen, who seemed a million miles away despite sitting two feet in front of him. “Jay? What about you? Do you know what comes next?”

A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Jensen’s mouth. “I sure do, my brother. I sure as hell do. I want what you have with Gen. Wife, kids, house… the whole nine. When this festival is over, I’m going to ask Y/N to marry me. Whatever happens after that, doesn’t matter. I just know that my life isn’t complete, unless she’s in it with me.”

Jared nodded in agreement, and despite the heaviness of the decision they had come to, he could see the love and excitement in his best friend’s face. He raised his beer again, “That, is the best damn thing I’ve heard you say in forever. I admit I was skeptical at first, but Y/N brings out something in you I’ve never seen before.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” 

“Pure, unadulterated, happiness.”

Jensen leaned back in his chair, and for the first time in his life, he knew that no matter what came next, he would be okay because Jared was right. Y/N made him happier and more alive than anything else ever had. The life he had always wanted, with the woman he always dreamed of was right in front of him for the taking.

Y/N

Forty-eight hours from the start of the festival, and Y/N’s nerves were showing signs of strain from the pressure she had put on herself. She wanted everything about the weekend to be perfect; from the many venues, band line ups, vendors and volunteers. She oversaw everything, right down to the signs that she had the local schools help make that marked each section of the festival. 

The idea had hit her months ago, to divide up the Austin Hometown & Brew Fest into little representations of each major city that was contributing food, drinks and music. Each school district in Austin was responsible for creating colorful signs for each “town”, and as she stood looked through the pictures of each one, her tired heart soared with pride and a surge of adrenaline she desperately needed. When she had been offered the job by Jensen, Y/N never believed for a second she would have the knowledge or drive to pull it off. Yet somehow, here she was--in the home stretch and still running. 

Y/N stared at her phone flipping through the images Bri had sent her, as she walked barefoot through the Vancouver apartment waiting for Jensen to get back from filming so they could leave for the airport. They had a late flight to Austin, which didn’t give them much time, but they could make it work. Somehow, they always found a way. With Robbie, Bri and Mama already in Austin, Y/N knew that everything would get done that needed to, because they were just as invested in this as she and Jensen were and she couldn’t ask for much more than that. Y/N had an amazing crew behind her, a boyfriend she loved more than life, and a future with endless possibilities. 

Just as she felt her stomach rubble, and made her way into the kitchen, the phone in her hand began to buzz. Bri’s name popped up, causing Y/N to smile and forget the hunger pains that nagged her. 

“Hey Bri,” she answered with tired enthusiasm, “everything okay down there?”

“Stop being a worry wort, everything is FINE! I’m calling to check on you. How’s the nerves? Holding steady?”

“Eh, let’s just say I am holding it together. Too much to think about for me to start feeling the heat now.”

“Mhm, okay. Now, you want to try to say that in a way that will make me believe it?”

“Hush, I’m fine. Tired, but fine.”

“If you say so. Honey, I promise you, everything is on track here. Robbie has the venues locked down. The stages are finishing being built, all the lights and equipment have been tested. Mama has the two theaters ready to rock n roll. Hell, even Gen is getting in on things. Do you know she took the kids down to the elementary school and helped them finish up the last few banners. I am telling you, there is nothing to worry about.”

Y/N felt a surge of relief, and let it wash over her taking with it the stress of last minute details. Yet, there was a nagging feeling left she didn’t like. One that settled in the pit of her stomach like a led weight. 

“Bri…” Y/N paused, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to ask. “...has there been any signs… or even a whiff of--”

“Nathan? No. There hasn’t.”

Y/N sighed audibly and felt her knees weaken at the sound of his name. She hated that even after the months that had passed since the breakin and incident in the brewery parking lot, the sound of his name could bring her such anxiety. 

“You sure?”

“I swear. The police still have an APB on him, all the volunteers and security guards have seen his picture and know what to look for should he be stupid enough to try and get into any restricted areas.”

“Okay.” But Y/N wasn’t totally convinced. She felt it could be her own paranoia and years of history with Nathan, but she needed to focus on the tasks ahead, and not look back on a past that would continue to haunt her, if she let it.

“Listen, it’s late. Tomorrow morning, I’ll meet you at Jensen’s place here in town, and we will spend the entire day going over every last minute detail. You can bite your nails and stress the day away, but for now, go grab some food, take a nap, blast some music… whatever is going to make you chill out. Robbie and I got this. Mama, too. That lady is a force of nature and loves you somethin’ fierce. So if there is any one thing out of place, I guaran-damn-tee, Mama June will handle it.”

Y/N laughed, and immediately conjured an image of Mama bossing Robbie around, while Bri sat back chuckling. “You’re right. Between her, you and Robbie, I really have nothing to worry about.”

“Good girl. Now, how long before your flight leaves?”

“We have to be at the airport by ten, and I think it leaves at twelve thirty.”

“Okay, I’ll have a car there waiting to pick you guys up. Now, I know you two horn dogs can’t keep your hands off each other, but may I suggest some SLEEP when you get to Austin. Big days ahead, and we need you both well rested and ready to kick this in the ass!”

“You know Briana, there are days I truly, from the bottom of my heart, cannot stand you.”

“What can I say, it's a gift. I’ll see you in the morning,” she laughed and made three loud kissing noises.

“Love you too, Bri,” Y/N laughed and shook her head, “See you tomorrow.”

As Y/N ended the call, her stomach reminded her of her promise of cold pizza from the fridge. She placed her cell phone on the counter and began to rummage through the two left over pizza boxes. She grabbed two plain slices, and just as she took a huge bite, her phone began to ring again. Assuming it was Bri calling back, she answered without looking at the caller ID.

“I swear, I am going to eat and take a nap!” she mumbled in protest as an answer, with a mouth full of cold pizza, but no response came. Y/N chewed and swallowed as quickly as she could, thinking that her jumbled greeting may have thrown Bri off. “Sorry, had a mouth full of food. Miss me already?” she teased. 

Again, no answer came, and that weight in her stomach twisted up like a tornado and clogged her throat. 

“Hel--Hello? Bri?” She moved the phone from her face and looked at the screen. Bri’s name wasn’t there, nor was Robbie’s. Instead it just said, Private Caller. “Who is this?”

Five, maybe ten seconds passed, but for Y/N, it felt like an eternity. She could hear someone breathing on the other end, and in her gut, she was convinced it was Nathan. 

When the person finally spoke, it was not the voice she suspected to hear. Not a man’s voice, but a digitally altered one. “Just a warning… cancel the festival, or there could be consequences.”

Y/N was speechless. She stood in Jensen’s kitchen, frozen in place with the phone glued to her hand. Slowly she brought the screen away from her face again, staring at the Private Caller and their ominous warning. She wanted to yell into the phone, curse off anyone who would try and scare her away from everything she’d worked so hard for. But her nerves had been pushed to the edge, and no words were coming from her lips. 

The caller hung up before she could find the strength to reply. Her hunger faded instantly, taken over by a swell of bile rising in her gut. Her good feelings from just moments ago were gone. As she felt herself on the verge of puking, she dropped her phone on the counter, and ran for the bathroom so her empty stomach could purge itself. Once she had gotten up whatever had been left in her gut, she sat back on the cool tile, and rested her head against the wall. Y/N had no strength or will to move; the stranger’s words “...there could be consequences…” continued to repeat over and over in her head. 

Y/N never did get up to get back to the kitchen, and when Jensen returned home a short time later, that’s where he found her; half asleep with a tear streaked face sitting in the corner of the bathroom. He didn’t ask her any questions, but instead sat beside her and gathered her into his arms, leaving a soft kiss on the top of her head. 

“Whatever it is baby, I promise you, we’ll get through it,” he cooed in comfort as she felt herself melt into his side. Assuming it was stress and anxiety over the festival, he held her close there on the bathroom floor until it was time to leave for the airport. 

That’s when she knew for complete certainty, she wasn’t going to tell him about the call. She would NOT let anyone interfere with all they had worked towards; certainly not some piece of shit like Nathan, or a petty schemer like Dee. Y/N would never let either of them take anything from her, again.

Nathan

He watched as the snotty little redhead and her fancy ass Beamer pulled out of the diner parking lot. Nathan’s face remained stone-like as Dee’s gaze didn’t leave his until she had turned left and sped out of view. Nothing she had said to him gave him a second of pause; no reconsidering, no backing down. Nathan had reached the “couldn’t care less” portion of his actions months ago, and now all he could think about was how to enact the best possible revenge, on all of them. 

Getting lost in his thoughts, he stood motionless in the parking lot, absently watching the traffic pass him by. Austin had a ton of traffic, and people, making it easy for him to blend into his surroundings and stay unnoticed. He knew the cops were looking for him, so he did his best to stay off the radar. It wasn’t until an Austin City cop car slowly passed the diner, that his feet finally decided to move. He still had too much to do before he could put his last plan into place. 

Nathan pulled his hood back up, then shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets as he casually strolled down the busy Austin streets. He cut through a few alleyways, and popped out a few blocks away. Though he looked like a citizen going for a casual stroll, he knew just where he was going. It had taken a while to get the cash he needed, but snatching a few purses from some old ladies, and that one grab ‘n go hold up at the gas station finally gave him what he needed. His fingers felt around in his pockets for the wad of cash that was now bundled there, giving him an odd sense of security. 

None of his plans had worked out since landing back in Jersey last winter. He had tried being friendly and getting back into Y/N’s life the right way. He gave her space and time to realize her own mistakes, as well as hopefully accept and forgive his own. Nathan thought for sure that would bring them together, but instead, she just ran back to this new guy trying to forget all they had meant to each other since they were kids. Just thinking of it caused his heart to pound, and his fists to clench around the silky bundle of bills stashed in his pocket. That money was the key; it would get him what he needed to make one final convincing argument on his own behalf. If she didn’t see how they were meant to be after that, then he would have to go with Plan B.

Hours later, after he purchased the items he needed, he began to wander the streets, trying to clear his head some. As Nathan passed by a hulking skyscraper, he caught his reflection in the mirrored panels of the structure. He saw what a dirty mess he was and decided to head back to the abandoned warehouse outside of the city where most of Austin’s homeless settled in for the night. It was a risk since the cops liked to come in randomly and bust up the encampment, but one he was willing to take. There he could clean up some, find a change of clothes and try to look the part he needed to play for the next few days in order to win back Y/N, once and for all.

Nathan successfully bartered for a clean pair of jeans, an almost new shirt and one use of the make-shift shower. Once he was clean and newly clothed, he found a quiet corner where someone abandoned a sleeping bag, pillow and even a few packets of Ramen noodles. Being an expert at living on the street, Nathan found a way to make the food, then hunkered down onto the sleeping bag. As the soup cooled, he transferred the items from his old jeans to his new ones and then tossed them aside. He wouldn’t need them anymore, because after he talked to Y/N, they would be together, and she could buy him a whole new wardrobe. After all, she was working with the bigwigs now and he was certain she could afford it. 

Picking at the hot noodles, Nathan let himself reminisce on the days when he and Y/N were happy and carefree. Days on the beach, nights on the boardwalk, him and her hand-in-hand. Countless days spent out on her dad’s boat with her and her brother Dave, and just as many nights drinking under the boards, dreaming of what life was like far away from Seaside. Y/N dreamt of being a rock star or some dumb shit, but Nathan knew she wouldn’t have the guts to really leave their hometown. She was a born and bred local, and no real locals ever got too far away. When she actually left and went on to make a new life for herself, he felt betrayed. He felt abandoned and hurt that he wasn’t enough to keep her put. Now, as he sat on the rumpled sleeping back with a cup of steaming, tasteless noodles in hand, he let his free hand slip into the pocket of his jeans again. This time it wasn’t the bulk of cash giving him comfort, but the touch of the cool metal that lived in his pocket. 

“One way or another,” he mumbled, tossing the soup aside with disgust, “I will have my girl and my life back.”

Austin, Day Before Festival Kicks Off...

Thirty-six hours from the start of the festival, Jensen, Y/N, Briana, Robbie, Jared, Gen, Mama and about two hundred volunteers stuffed themselves into the theater where the Burlesque troop would be performing the following evening. The seven of them stood on the stage watching as swarms of people claimed a seat, all talking excitedly about the events that were to follow. Most of them were familiar faces to Jensen and Jared, having worked on the show with them for so long, but the ones they didn’t know, didn’t give them a second of pause or concern. They were all here to lend their time and services for free in an effort to do their part for the city. Every single person that walked through the doors of that theater had been background checked, and vetted through a private sponsor to ensure the safety of the festival goers, the bands, and especially those behind the scenes putting it all together. 

That was one thing Jensen had insisted on when the idea of community volunteers had first come up. It was well before he and Y/N had fallen in love and had run-ins with Nathan and Dee. He needed to be sure that everyone involved would be safe, and in turn the weekend could be a huge success. Two separate private security firms had been hired, with special attention focused on keeping Nathan out. Jensen didn’t think Dee would have the nerve to show her face, but he made sure that each member of the security team had Nathan’s photo and full description. 

Getting lost in his own thoughts as the stream of volunteers finally closed the vestibule doors, he barely noticed Robbie setting up a microphone and begin addressing the crowd. It wasn’t until Y/N casually made her way to his side and brushed against his shoulder, was he able to pull away from his own mind and come back to the present. 

“You okay there, Hollywood?” she whispered, casually glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “Big crowd here. You got stage fright all of a sudden or something?”

“Huh?” he asked, then quickly shook his head, “No, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“All of this,” he said and snorted a laugh. “I mean, look at what you put together… all of these people are here because they believe in what you created--”

“What WE created. Jay,” Y/N grabbed Jensen’s hand, and despite two hundred pairs of eyes watching them, turned him towards her and kissed his lips. “I didn’t do this, you didn’t do this. Not Robbie, Bri, Mama… But ALL of us together.”

Before Jensen could respond, Robbie turned his attention towards them, holding out the microphone. When neither of them knew why, he raised his eyebrows then covered the top of the mic with his hand. 

“You wanna jump in on this pep talk, kids?”

Jensen cleared his throat and passed Robbie a sarcastic smile. “My pleasure.” He took the microphone in hand and before he could speak, the applause radiated towards him from the theater like a shock wave. He felt his heart surge at the entire crowd, much like it did every time he was on stage at a convention. The overwhelming love and gratitude was hard to miss when in this type of setting. 

“Thank you guys, really. Y’all are far too kind. It's us who should be applauding you! Because no matter how hard we have collectively worked to put this whole thing together, without you guys lending your time and efforts, it just wouldn’t be possible.”

Another surge of applause from the captivated audience caused Jensen to lower the mic and just enjoy the moment. 

“Seriously, from the bottom of all our hearts, we thank you for not only the love and support you’ve shown us from the get go, but for the love and dedication you are showing to the city of Austin. All the proceeds from ticket sales this weekend will be divided among various city organizations that work towards education enrichment programs, women’s shelters, soup kitchens, including a new music and arts program that will benefit children and teenagers from all across the city.”

Applause again, but this time even more deafening. The sea of faces before him were smiling ear to ear and cheering loudly. As Jensen moved his vision to the right in what felt like slow motion, he caught the wide grins of his closest friends who were sharing the stage with him, who were also clapping along with the crowd. 

Jensen brought the mic up to say more, but he was at a loss for word. The energy and vibe in the theater that night left him speechless, and it took all his will to not let himself shed a tear. Y/N could see his emotions building under the surface, and gently took the mic from his hand. He smiled at her thankfully for it, and took a step back as she proceeded to prepare herself to address the crowd.

“We can’t thank you all enough for the support, and love you brought with you here not only for tonight, but for this entire weekend. Now, we don’t want to take up too much of your time, so I am going to pass the mic over to Ms. Briana Buckmaster who has a few quick things to go over with you. After that, Mama June and I will be at each end of the theater exits handing out your official volunteer shirts for the weekend. One last thing before we get to the nitty gritty, while you are out there working hard to make sure our guests have fun, don’t forget to stop and enjoy the festival yourselves! We have done our best to make sure that all volunteers get plenty of breaks to go enjoy the food and music, as well as give each of you a free admission voucher to pass along to a family member, friend, or just someone you know who would enjoy the event but can’t afford to buy their own ticket. We want this to be an all-inclusive event. So have fun, work hard, and let’s make this something not only the city of Austin, but every other town and city represented here, will never forget!”

For the last time that night, the volunteers cheered and applauded the words of love and encouragement bestowed on them. Y/N passed the microphone to Bri, who’s smile lit up her dimples nearly as bright as the lights of the theater. Briana pulled Y/N into a big hug and held her tightly. Right before she let go, Bri squeezed her and whispered in her ear, “You’ve come a long way from that scared, nervous woman I met New Year’s Eve. I am so fucking proud of you!”

With that, Bri released her from the embrace, reset herself and turned to address the volunteers. Y/N took a step back to stand beside Jensen, and immediately felt his hand snake into hers. They watched on as Bri continued to captivate the audience with her distinct and charming way of explaining the processes and procedures for the weekend. Just as Bri wrapped up her part of the speech, Jensen and Y/N took a moment to meet each other’s gaze. Y/N had all but forgotten the call from the day before, and found herself feeling more confident than ever that everything they had worked so hard for would unfold without a hitch.

Tag List:

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[multiverse-in-archive]

"five times touched"

send me "five times touched" for a drabble about five times my muse touched yours!

((This shall be under read more-))

Charlie wiped her brow, a pleased smile on her face.

"This is everything, right, guys?"

"Yeah, justabout..." Angel responded in a mumbled, holding his and his twin's pet pig.

With that, the blonde bounded towards the spider demons before digging around in her dress pants pockets. The keys retrieved, she first reached for one of Angel's free hands, gently placing one in it before closing his fingers around it. Then, she reached for Devil's hand to do the same, shaking it slightly when his fingers were closed around his key.

"Welcome to the Happy Hotel, you two!"

Devil looked down at his hand for a moment.

"Uh... Yeah... Thanks, toots."

The princess released his hand then, bounding back over to Vaggie.

"We'll leave you two to get settled in. If you need anything, let us know!~"

"And don't cause trouble!" Vaggie added.

"Nooooo promises, babe," Angel hummed.

Vaggie could only huff before Charlie led her out of the room and towards the lobby.

"Are you positive about this, hun...?"

The Hellborn demoness beamed.

"Absolutely... They're perfect for our first guests!"

---

"'Ey Charlie. Ya doin' okay?"

Charlie looked up from her journal, hastily closing it as she was met with the sight of one of the Spider Brothers.

"Hey, Devil! Yeah, I'm fine!" she responded sweetly, "Why do you ask?"

She watched him hesitate for a moment before he came closer with the clack clacking of his boots against the hardwood of her office floor. He stopped in front of her desk, holding his phone out for her.

The princess visibly deflated at what she saw.

... This... was a clip of that disaster of an interview. Everyone was laughing. And the title hit her harder.

'Daddy must be So Proud'

"I din' realize things 'er that bad-"

"Devil. Stop... It's okay..." she said gently, "Bygones, yeah?"

"But-"

She reached to grab one of his hands, a soft smile on her face.

"Devil, things are getting better now. Alastor and the others are helping now, so from there, things should be easier."

She gave a gentle squeeze.

"You don't have to worry about it... Okay...?"

He stared at their hands for a moment before closing his fingers around hers.

"Whadeva ya say, babe."

---

Knock knock.

"Dev...?"

No response.

Charlie swallowed before knocking again.

"Devil, may I come in...? I want to talk..."

She was worried...

"... Come in..." she heard from the other side of the door.

Carefully, she pushed the door open, met with the sight of a blaket burrito on the bed, facing away from the door and by extention her.

The demon princess carefully shut the door behind herself before approaching the bed. She stepped out of her shoes to crawl onto the bed next to him.

"... How are you holding up...?"

No reply.

... She needed to think of something...

Then an idea struck her.

"Hey Devil... Have you ever heard the story of the Velveteen Rabbit...?"

The spider demon glanced at her.

"Whadaboudit...?"

"Well... you know what made him real, right...?"

He slightly rose a brow at that.

"Love..." she said gently, reaching up to move the makeshift blanket hood off of his head.

Devil blinked.

"No matter what... you're still real to me... You're still real to us... Because... we love you..."

The spider demon then turned to face her, staring at her.

"... Chuck..."

Then she gently pulled him into a hug then, one hand gently stroking through his soft hair.

"And... the fact that you can love us back... shows just how human you really are..." she murmured against his scalp.

There was silence for a moment.

Then, he nuzzled to bury his face in her shoulder, and there came some muffled sobs...

Charlie simply cotinued to pet through his hair, rocking side to side with him in her arms.

---

The halo appeared over the moth demoness's head, and Charlie couldn't keep her wet smile from widening.

"Look at you, Vaggie... You did it...!"

Vaggie looked at her hands, her skin fading from gray to the brown that it was in life.

"Yeah... I... I guess I did..."

The infernal princess's smile faltered slightly.

"What's wrong...? You're going to reach your happy ending..."

The x on her face was fading away, her sclera turning white and her iris turning black.

"But... is it really a happy ending without you...?" the former demoness said quietly.

Charlie smiled as she came closer, gently holding her girlfriend's arms.

"Of course it is... Life goes on without me... You can find happiness with or without me..." she whispered, "Do me a favor... and tell Anthony that we said 'Hi' when you see him... Alright...?"

The Latina's hair was shortening, the grey fading into a brilliant brown tinted black. Tears started to spill out of her beautiful dark eyes.

"T-Te amo, Charlie...!" she choked.

Charlie smiled, tears forming in her own eyes as she leaned down and forward to rest her forehead on Vaggie's.

"Y yo también te amo, mi corazón... Más de lo que jamás sabrás... Adiós..." she said softly.

Familiar striped wings sprouted from the new angel's back. And a holy light shrouded her.

And consequently sent the princess back in screaming agony.

"CHARLIE!!!"

She barely registered hands catching her by her shoulders from behind, being crowded around by the others, nor Vaggie's voice fading into nothing.

"Chuck! Chuck you alright!?"

"Get her inside! Now!"

She was lifted up off the ground. She thought. She couldn't quite tell. Her arms, her forehead, they burned! She was certain she'd never felt this sort of pain before.

She was... lain on the couch in the lobby now... right...?

Her blazer's sleeves were torn off, and a hiss escaped from her clutched teeth.

"Starai bene! Tienimi la mano!"

Blindly, she grabbed around until she managed to get a hold of a gloved hand. Some sort of cream was applied to her burns, and she squeezed.

All the while, she heard gentle singing in Italian.

---

How long has it been at this point...?

She wasn't entirely sure anymore.

The queen stared out the window of her hotel room up at the haloed planetoid hanging in the dark red sky, idly picking at her long sleeves.

How many have come here...?

How many have ascended...?

And how was everyone doing up there...?

Charlie chuckled a bit.

God, she felt old thinking like this...

"Hey, Charlie?"

The demoness truned from the window, a fond smile stretching on her face.

"Yes, Devil...?" she asked softly.

"Coodja do me a favor real quick?"

The greying blonde stood up.

"Anything."

She watched as the spider demon stepped fully in the room holding up a rather familiar gown.

"Put dis on."

She tilted her head curiously for a moment before chuckling a bit.

"That old thing...?"

"I wanna see ya in it."

She moved over towards him, grabbing it from his hand before he pointed to her closet.

"Alright, alright, one moment..." she laughed slightly before moving to where he pointed.

She shut the closet door behind herself and looked at the gown for a moment. How long had it been since she wore this...? And yet it looked like new... The black never faded a bit since the last she wore it.

And actually, when did this leave her closet in the first place?

She shook her head in amusement before changing out of her suit. And carefully stepping into the gown.

She looked at the full body mirror once it was on.

Her hair was shorter than it used to be. Thinner and greyer too. Her face was worn with creases at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. She looked at the sleeves of her black gown, the thorny leaf shaped patterns that made it up being the only things covering the unsightly scars on her forearms. Self conciously, she held her arms before looking at the door.

He's probably waiting for her out there...

Uneasily, she made her way to the door, peeking out of the closet.

She was met by the sight of Devil waiting idly by her music player, dressed more formally than she'd left him.

Huh... That was a little unexpected. And wow he got changed fast. Or did she take longer getting dressed than she realized?

She smiled, a brow cocked higher as she stepped out of the closet.

"It's been a while since I last saw you in that," she noted idly, closing the door behind her.

He only hummed in reply before pushing a button on her music player, instantly filling the room with music. Then, he exteded a hand towards her.

"Dance wit me, Chuck."

"Well aren't you in a bossy mood this evening," she laughed before approaching him, lifting the skirt of her gown to avoid stepping on it.

When she got close enough, she took his hand, immediately finding herself pulled closer to him. Two arms were draped over her shoulders, and his fourth hand was resting on her waist as he started leading the dance. She simply let out a giggle as she moved with him.

Turning, spinning, stepping, swaying...

"Inside of every demon is a rainbow...~" her own younger voice emitted from the speakers.

"I'm guessing you were feeling sentimental tonight...?'

"Maybe..." he hummed in response as he twirled her, "Dat a problem, majesty?"

"Not in the slightest..."

[marril96]

Handle with Care

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: A sexual role-play leads to guilt and tears.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

It was a game no different than the countless others you'd played.

It started with a kiss that made you tingle all over, nerves on fire, going off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. A push — a shove, really, for you intended to make the most of the night — and Rowena was on her back, naked as the day she'd been born, arms spread, skin glistening like a milky sky dusted with a constellation of freckles, hair spilled around her head like a fiery halo.

Lying so still, her eyes observing your every move, taking it in like prey preparing for an attack, heart pounding softly in her chest, she resembled an angel. She was beautiful as one, charming, magnificent, supernatural not just in species but in presence itself. A force of nature you never tired of claiming, of making it clear to everyone that asked — and those that didn't — that she was yours.

She didn't get like this for just everyone. She didn't bare herself — body, mind, and soul — to any stranger. It took years of love, of devotion, of endless patience and support and kindness for you to earn her trust to be allowed to play this game.

As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, Rowena was a delicate thing. Gentle. Fragile. She needed to be handled with care, even when she relinquished all control and told you, in no certain terms, to go at it. To roam free. She had her limits, and she trusted you to respect them.

Straddling her, you pressed your mouth to hers in another kiss. Tonight was your night. As much as she loved being in control, there were times when she relished being a powerless, naughty girl in need of punishment. A few days ago, that was your role. Tonight, it was hers. Your hands roamed everywhere, tugging, squeezing, feeling her warmth underneath your fingertips, as delicious as her mouth on yours.

Rowena's eyes fell closed, a moan escaping her lips — her swollen, cherry-red lips, hungry for kisses, begging for more. Your teeth grazed the lower one as you parted, drawing blood. She hissed, startled, and you smirked. Rowena pouted, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head. She was at your mercy tonight. Nobody said anything about playing fair.

You kissed down her neck, every now and then capturing a bit of skin between your lips and leaving behind a butterfly bruise. They were violet and beautiful, marks of ownership she would wear for days, alike those she'd left on you earlier. It was one of your favorite parts of the game. Being allowed to hurt her, ruin her, and make it feel so good — not just for you, but for her as well.

Rowena accompanied every nip with a moan, pain and pleasure mixed into one, a sound that was magic to your ears. Her body was a canvas, blank and perfect, waiting for you to fill it, to make it yours. And, the artist you were, you were happy to oblige.

Your cupped her breasts. Small, supple, they fit perfectly into your palms. You kissed each one, suckling on rock-hard nipples. Biting on each before releasing them with a plop. Rowena looked at you with wounded, desperate eyes. Sad as a kicked puppy. You used to have a hard time resisting them, but over the years you'd built a tolerance for petty manipulations in the bedroom. You had, after all, learned from the best.

"Aw, what is it, baby?" you cooed, sarcasm thick in your voice.

"Y/N, please," she whined. A perfect, delicious little melody.

You raised an eyebrow. "Please what?"

"Touch me."

"I am touching you." You emphasized it by pinching one of her nipples, eliciting a yelp. "Is this not good enough for you?"

"It is, but…"

"But what?"

Rowena pouted. Realizing you weren't going to fall for that, either, she said, "Please, Y/N."

Her hand slithered between her legs. You slapped it away. "Patience, sweetie."

"But—"

"No buts." Your fingers slid over her thigh in a gentle caress. A teasing. A promise of what was to come. "We've only just started. No need to rush things."

"I need you."

You chuckled. And she had the audacity to be offended when you called her a brat. "You're such a baby."

"Am not," she said defiantly, scowling.

"So are. My little baby," you teased, booping the tip of her nose.

She scrunched up her face adorably. "You're mean."

"That's rich, coming from you. Or did you forget last week?" She'd worked you so hard it had hurt to walk for two days straight. You hadn't regretted a thing; every lick of pain, every screaming muscle was worth it.

Rowena smirked. "T'was a lot of fun."

It definitely was. "And so is tonight." You raised a questioning eyebrow. "Unless you're chickening out."

"Please. As if I've anything to fear."

"I can be scary."

A snort, taunting, derisive.

You scowled. "What, you don't think I can?"

"Of course you can, darling." She patted your arm as if you were a dog who'd just performed the simplest trick. Good girl, the gesture said, condescending to its very core. So smart for a dog.

You grit your teeth, smacking her hand off. "You're being a naughty girl."

There it was again, that smirk, infuriating and delicious all at once. Defiant as ever. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to have to punish you." Your pussy quivered at the thought. Pictures already formed in your mind; Rowena on her knees, your hand tangled in her hair, pulling to expose her neck, to show her who was in charge. To make her submit for every failure to do so resulted in a new punishment. Bruises adorning her body, bites and scratches, red lines and purple butterflies. An artwork to be admired.

She quired up an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Mmhm." You licked your lips, imagined your tongue exploring tastier places. All in good time. "Can't reward bad behavior, can I?"

"You most certainly can't," she agreed. Then, with a teasing grin, "If you're competent."

Brat mode on, it seemed. Not that it was ever off, in the sheets or the streets.

"Are you saying I can't punish you?"

"Och, I know you can. If it's any good, though… that is a guessing game, is it not?"

"Is that a challenge?" you asked, knowing full well it was.

"I don't know. Is it?" You scowled. Rowena shrugged, blinked innocently. "You are a more… gentle lover, darling. I just don't know if you have it in you to be tough."

You slapped her in the face with all the strength you could muster. Her cheek instantly swelled an angry red, skin bristled, tingling with raging nerves. If that was how she wanted to play, so be it. You loved a good challenge.

The smug smile never left Rowena's mouth. If anything, it got bigger, bolder. She laughed, and it was hearty, too nonchalant for her own good. "Is that the best you've got?"

Frustration swelled in your chest. Riling you up was her favorite thing to do whenever you played. She loved to push you to your limits, loved to tease and taunt and mock until you snapped and took all your anger, all your rage out on her. It hurt a lot, and it hurt so good; you knew from your own nights as a "victim," when Rowena's own limits were pushed and you happily paid the price.

Your hands shot up to her neck, fingers wrapping around the sensitive skin. Tentative, gentle, testing the waters before the final countdown. Choking wasn't something you practiced often, but Rowena always welcomed it. She'd never refused a punishment, had never used her safe word and asked that you go slower, lighter. She welcomed pain for as much as it hurt, it felt so good, so empowering.

She knew you would never do anything she wasn't comfortable with. Knew one word of hers would be the end of everything, and your arms would be open for her to snuggle into as you murmured apologies. She felt safe with you, just as you had with her. There was no danger, no fear. Nothing either of you hadn't consented to.

Nothing but endless trust.

Rowena snorted. "Seriously?"

If that's how you wanna play it, fine. Eyes locked in an intense stare, your fingers tightened around her neck. Such a delicate thing she was. So small, so frail. You could crush her throat if you wanted to. It was a scary amount of power to have, but you knew how to wield it. You knew not to let it get to you, not to abuse it.

"How about this, Red?" The words rolled off your tongue in a purr, delicate, provocative. The way you knew made her quiver in all the right places. "Hm? You like this?"

Your nails dug into her skin as you squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, grazing it, almost drawing blood. Marking it. She was yours; your property, your little doll to play with, to do whatever you wanted to. And, gods, there were so many things you wanted to do. So many punishments you wanted to inflict, different ways to make her scream and beg and whimper underneath you. To make her curse your name just as you had hers last week as she'd worked you to your very last limit.

Rowena smacked your arm. Again. And again. She kept hitting you, kept fighting you, tiny fingers clawing. Desperate as a trapped kitten, and just as harmless.

Your mouth curled into a smirk. "What do you think you're doing? Hm, Red?" Then, teasing, "My Little Red Riding Hood."

She still fought you, desperate to get free. Strange as it was given the situation, she was pale as a ghost. Her eyes, you noticed far too late, were wide, filled with panic like a sky painted grey with storm clouds. Filled with fear; pure, unadulterated. Terror much alike the one you knew well for, three years ago, it had been a constant. A nightmare she couldn't seem to wake up from, that followed her everywhere she went and made her fear every shadow she came across.

You instantly released her. Guilt ate at you as she doubled over and gasped for breath. You hadn't squeezed her that hard, had you? Surely, you were careful.

No. Your heart knew it before the reality of the situation reached your brain. You were too rough. You frightened her. You hurt her.

"Rowena, I'm so sorry," you said. "I didn't—"

Were those tears dripping on the bed? Was she crying?

You had crossed her limits, but surely it wasn't that bad. She couldn't be that scared, like bad then, in that hotel room, with the Devil crushing her skull and setting her alight — all the while she was still alive.

Could she?

Surely she was exaggerating.

Right?

"Hey, are you okay?" You reached for her shoulder. She stiffened under your touch. Went still as a statue. "Sweetheart?"

Her eyes, wounded, broken, found yours for a brief moment before falling downwards in shame. A whimper tore from her mouth. More tears fell, and with them came sobs that shattered your heart into a thousand pieces. She was shaking, heart pounding so hard you could hear it, could feel the vibrations under your fingertips.

"Rowena—"

"Don't." She gathered the last remnants of her strength to say it, to make it curt, straight to the point. As close to regular one could get when they were crying.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. Whined. Cried like she hadn't in months, not since the last nightmare. They'd lessened in frequency, reappearing every now and then as opposed to every night like they used to. She'd managed to get them under control over the years, just as she had flashbacks; they weren't gone, never would be, but they weren't as frequent. She could sleep without fear now. She could walk the streets without worrying about something random sending her down a memory lane she wished she could erase from her head.

Was that what you'd done? Had you sent her back to that hotel room, straight into Lucifer's arms?

"Hey," you said softly, in that tone that always calmed her, that always put her at ease. You rubbed her shoulder, caressed it with utmost tenderness. "It's okay. You're okay."

Only she wasn't, was she? Because of you. Because you went too far. The accusations stung. It was an accident; you would never harm her on purpose, would never make her relive the worst day of her life. Would never cause her any kind of pain she didn't want you to.

Yet, you did exactly that.

Your intentions didn't matter. The fact remained that you did it. You swore you never would, and you did it, all over a stupid sexual game.

Tears pricked at your eyes, sharp as knives. Accusatory. Unforgiving. You were a bad person. A bad girlfriend. If Rowena decided it wasn't worth it, that she wanted nothing to do with you, she would be well within her rights.

"Come here." You didn't feel like you deserved it, but you wanted to make it up to her. Wanted to, at the very least, try to fix the damage you'd caused. Wanted to — selfishly so, and you hated yourself for it — feel her against you and, for a short moment, feel like you were doing something good, like you were helping her.

Just like countless times before, she dove into your arms, buried her head in your chest, and crumbled. She wept and sobbed and whined, sad to her core, broken, shattered. Unconsolable.

All because of you.

Guilty tears falling, you wrapped your arms around her. Tight as if your life depended on it. "It's okay," you whispered. "It's okay, baby. You're safe."

And she was. You were the only person she allowed to see this side of her; this frail, broken creature, all defenses down, protective walls torn apart. She knew you wouldn't judge her, wouldn't take advantage. She trusted you.

That only made the guilt that ripped at you worse.

She trusted you, and you did this to her.

She trusted you despite it.

You hurt her, and she still trusted you, still felt safe in your arms. Still sought comfort in you. Still let you see her at her worst, weakest, most vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," you said once again, and wanted to say it many more times, for as long as guilt ate away at you. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."

You rocked her writhing form, gently, as if she were a child. Rubbed soft circles across her bare, sweat-soaked back. Nuzzled her hair and kissed her scalp.

"I'm so sorry."

Moment by moment, whisper by whisper, Rowena quieted down. Pulling away, she rubbed at her swollen, scarlet-rimmed eyes.

"You okay?" you asked.

She gave a small nod and, in a raspy voice, said, "Aye."

"Need anything? A glass of water?"

"I'm fine."

She wasn't, but, like always, she put on a front. Her way of regaining some control, some dignity after falling apart.

"Was…" You swallowed a lump in your throat. Licked your lips. Cleared your throat. "Was it a flashback?"

Rowena nodded.

The confirmation shattered you, tore you apart like a knife deep in your gut. You should have known this would happen. You'd choked her before, but never like that. Never that hard. It was your fault she was hurting. Your fault she would spend the night tossing and turning in bed, the memories burning in her mind, fresh as if not a day had gone by since the incident. Your fault she she was back in that hotel room, completely and utterly helpless, terrified to the bone..

It was all your fault.

"I'm sorry," you said for the upteenth time. As if that could change anything. As if an apology would erase the agony she was in — the agony you'd put her in. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Not in a way she didn't like. You'd planned to hurt her plenty tonight. Only, she was supposed to enjoy it. Not curl up in a ball and weep.

"I know," Rowena said, and meant it. She could hold a mean grudge. If there were any ill feelings, she would have let you know.

That only made you feel worse.

She should have been angry. She should have screamed her lungs out, arms flailing wildly, eyes flashing purple. She should have hurt you, or wanted to at the very least.

She should not be this calm about it after what you'd put her through.

It wasn't right.

Noticing your turmoil, Rowena reached for your hand. She was warm to the touch, soft, gentle. Her fingers twined with yours, squeezed tight. A comfort you didn't know you needed. Your nerves instantly calmed, tense muscles relaxed. The woman was magic, and she didn't even have to utter a single spell. All she had to do was touch you, and you were hers, your body, soul, and mind under her command.

Sometimes you hated it.

In times like this, you welcomed it.

"It was an accident," she said, looking straight into your eyes. Making sure you heard her loud and clear. "I'm fine. Don't beat yourself up."

"I shouldn't have choked you."

"You didn't know."

You didn't. But still… "We did it before, so I thought it was fine." You couldn't change what happened, but you could explain. You could make her understand. "I didn't mean to go that far. It just happened. I—"

"I know," Rowena said. "It was an accident, darling."

"I suck."

"You don't."

"I'm a bad girlfriend."

"You're not."

"I'm just like him."

"Don't you dare say that!" The sharpness of her tone startled you. Her eyes, still red and puffy, were fuming, anger coiling in them like a storm about to devastate a town. "You are nothing like Lucifer." She spat the name like the filth it was. "I never want to hear you say things like that again. Have I made myself clear?"

You gave a nod. "I'm sorry."

A smile broke out on her mouth, small but encouraging. "Like I said, it's okay. I'm okay.."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye." You stared. She sighed. "For the most part. Don't worry. The worst has passed."

"I'm—"

Raising a forefinger in warning, she said, "If you say sorry one more time, you are sleeping on the couch."

You threw your arms up in defeat. "Sorry." She raised an eyebrow. You cringed. Nice going, Y/N. "I'll just stop talking."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Rowena deadpanned.

A moment passed in silence. Then you said, "I guess I shouldn't choke you anymore."

"That would be for the best," she agreed. "I can handle it for the most part, but it would be best to prevent future accidents. Some things..."

"I know," you said, reclaiming her hand, squeezing it in emphasis. She didn't have to explain. If she couldn't handle it, that was enough for you to cease doing it. After all, you played these games for mutual pleasure. There was no satisfaction in suffering if it wasn't wanted. "Is there anything else you don't want me to do?"

"Just choking."

"Okay."

"Och, and…" You raised a questioning eyebrow. She bit her lip. "Maybe don't call me Red."

"Of course!" His favorite nickname for her. A bad choice of words on your part, especially when coupled with choking. "It completely slipped my mind."

"It's alright, darling."

Laying down, you waved for Rowena to join you. She was beside you in an instant, nestled in your embrace, curled up against you like a kitten.

"I love you," you said as you played with the locks of her hair, threaded your fingers through them.

"Me, too," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone.

You laid like that for what felt like hours. It took a while, but, to your surprise, Rowena, feeling safe, protected, drifted off to sleep. Smiling, you kissed the top of her head and allowed your eyes to fall closed. Allowed much needed sleep to claim you.

Tomorrow was a new day. Hopefully, a brighter one.

After all, you had a game to finish.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca​ @salembitchtrials @jay-eris​ @hellsmother​ @elizabeth-effie​ @shadowgirl-vsb​ @rowenaswife​ @wonderifshelikesroses​ @xfireandsin​ @liddell-alien​ @hotdiggitydammit​ @lae-lae​ @darkhumorsblog​ @angel7376​ @cherrypierowena​ @evil-regal-vampiress​ @hellbentredhead​ @angel-e-v-a​ @a-queen-and-her-throne​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @rowenaslilwitch​ @midnight-lestrange​

[s-and-n-writes]

scarred, broken, and mended

summary: She felt the weight of the ring on the string around her neck and could feel her scars.

No, she thought, not wanting to get lost in the memories, not now. I can do this later. 

So she plastered on a smile, tied an apron, and started frosting some cupcakes.

That night, she allowed herself to feel, and cried herself to sleep, plagued by nightmares of black leather and a feral grin.

pairing: jason todd x marinette dupain cheng, red hood x ladybug, red hood x multimouse

quick links:

| next chapter >

| miraculous masterlist | series masterlist |

inspired by: 

scars, freckles and names, and gotham mouse, paris bug, both by @izzybellepenguin​ 

warnings:

trigger warnings, abuse, mentions of abuse, angst, evil! adrien

a/n: Maribat Jasonette Fic. violence and bullying. there might be another tw but i don't know. the possible tw will start at ~~ and end at ~~. the definite tw will start from the first word and end at ~:~.normal intro notes. i'm s of s and n. also this is going to be angsty for a long time. also I've never read the comics or watched the movies for batman but i've read almost every maribat fic so plz come at me. thank u

Crack .

Marinette sunk down against the wall, holding her, now broken, wrist. Tears were streaming down her face as she held in a sob.

“Stop bullying Lila, you filthy bitch! God, why was I ever friends with you,” Alya whisper-yelled at her. They were in an empty classroom after school ended and nobody was around. Still, Alya took care to be quiet. Lila was standing behind her, complete with fake tear tracks and a massive smirk.

As Alya slapped her again, leaving her cheek red, Lila continued to fake sob about how she “couldn’t believe Marinette would act like this” and how she “makes it so hard to forgive her”.

~:~

“It’s fine, Lila. She deserves this. You are a much better person,” Alya said, and they walked away together. Alya continued spewing out encouragement and praise until Marinette couldn’t hear them anymore. She finally let out her sobs but quickly wiped her eyes. She had to be home soon, before her shift at the bakery started.

She got up, cradling her wrist, and put up her hood to cover her red face and puffy eyes. Marinette had changed what she wore after the first time they left visible bruises. Now, she wore a black hoodie over a pink shirt, with grey pants, and kept her signature purse (I never liked writing clothes so just imagine them). She made them, and she signed everything with her signature: MAT. She had made a fashion brand online after Jagged Stone had asked for more pieces, and soon Clara Nightingale had asked for a few too. Eventually, her brand, MAT, was famous and celebrities everywhere wanted something. It stood for Marinette And Tikki, for her favorite tiny god. She knew Tikki would be there for her, no matter what.

Oh no! She was going to be late! Marinette took off, trying to rush home, when she winced and had to slow down. She had forgotten that her ankle was sprained after Alya pushed her down the stairs. She limped home quickly, entering through the back door. She didn’t need her parents realizing she wasn’t home yet.

Marinette hobbled up the steps and into her room, putting down all her books and collapsing on her bed. Tikki came out of her purse and flew near her.

“Marinette! Are you okay? Are you hurt too badly?” Tikki asked, full of concern for her favorite Ladybug.

“No. My face hurts but the main thing is my wrist. I think it’s broken,” Marinette said, trying to stuff the pain and sadness down. It was a habit even though Hawkmoth was defeated. She was just so used to pushing all her emotions down that she couldn’t stop. Blank-faced, she sat up and wiped away the tears. Her face was almost back to normal and she needed to start healing now  since her shift started in 10 minutes.

Marinette started chanting the healing spell she learned from the Grimoire. After Master Fu had passed over guardianship, she had taken it upon herself to learn the Guardians’ magic, as it would help her. Right now, she had to heal her wrist. FInishing the chant, she took a sip of the potion needed to complete the spell. Marinette scrunched her face in disgust. No matter how many times she drank it, it still tasted like a mix of broccoli, sock, and camembert. Odd combination, but what can you do?

Now that her wrist was almost fully healed, (it still hurt to move it a lot), she needed to run down for her shift. If she was late, her parents would ground her, and that would hinder her patrol schedule. Even though Hawkmoth was defeated, she and Chat Noir had kept their Miraculous. Well, that’s not completely true.

Chat Noir started out as a good partner, if not a little too flirty. As time went on, however, he started being less helpful. He would flirt aggressively and try to force Ladybug on dates, which made him useless in battles, but at least he would try. Once, he even went as far as to refuse to help defeat an akuma.

During the battle with Hawkmoth, however, when he was revealed to be Gabriel Agreste, Chat Noir fought hard , with an intensity Ladybug didn’t know he could have. It was completely new and seemingly out-of-character for the guy who would constantly get killed and controlled by akumas. Honestly, Marinette was a bit scared. She had to physically stop Chat Noir from cataclysming Hawkmoth.

After Hawkmoth was defeated, Ladybug decided not to reveal identities, since Chat Noir was kind of annoying. Not to mention, he was incompetent in fights and generally terrifying during the battle with Hawkmoth. Not a great person to know your deepest secret.

Chat Noir kept pushing for a reveal, how he deserved this for taking down Hawkmoth, and how everything would be great because they could finally date. Ladybug had no interest, and when she said so and refused the reveal, Chat Noir went crazy.

He began demanding and begging for a reveal, saying how they were ‘soulmates’ and they could ‘ finally start dating’ and how they were ‘perfect’ for each other. When that didn’t work, he was following her on patrol, trying to find out where she lived. Chat Noir and Adrien both got closer to Marinette as well. Chat Noir would stop by and vent about how Ladybug was rejecting him, and how Marinette was so similar to her. Adrien would hang out closer to her and Marinette saw him stealing glances at her during gym and lunch. Normally, this would have made her giddy, but her crush had died the day he said to ‘take the high road’.

Marinette could deal with this. She could deal with the following, the venting, and the begging. It was annoying , but not the worst. Then, it happened. Ladybug was out on patrol and Chat Noir was following her, as usual. He stopped her by yelling and caught up. Then, he grinned, and it was more animal than human.

~~ (possible trigger warning)

Ladybug could see the malice in his eyes when he pinned her on the ground. His claws traced her face, then it started. Chat Noir growled and tried to rip her suit, rip her mask, do anything to be able to identify her. He even tried to remove her Miraculous, but thankfully she had enchanted them so they couldn’t be removed by force. Then, he tried his ‘Hail Mary’.

“CATACLYSM,” Chat Noir yelled, no, growled , and Ladybug’s eyes went wide. His hand went to her left side and Ladybug screamed. She could feel the cracks on her skin, could feel the dark energy zooming across her body. She went limp, and Chat Noir jumped away, seeing how the suit cracked but didn’t come off. It left scars from the left side of her rib cage, stretching around to the right side of her stomach. The main one was on the front, but there were many smaller ones, branching from the main one and covering her back.

~~ (possible trigger warning ends)

After all of that, Marinette knew she had to take back the Miraculous. With a heavy heart, Ladybug called Chat Noir to the top of the Eiffel Tower and took back his Miraculous. It was hard but ultimately worth it. Even now, walking down to the bakery, she felt the weight of the ring on the string around her neck and could feel her scars.

No , she thought, not wanting to get lost in the memories, not now. I can do this later . So she plastered on a smile, tied an apron, and started frosting some cupcakes.

That night, she allowed herself to feel, and cried herself to sleep, plagued by nightmares of black leather and a feral grin.

quick links: | next chapter >

a/n: so updates will be there and if i miss the schedule, it will be there. i will try and update every week. plz comment if you enjoy. comment if you dont. if i fail miserably at writing let me know. 

tagging:

so we’ll be starting a taglist for this series, and we’ll be tagging people who liked the post before. if you don’t want to be part of the taglist, sorry about that! shoot us message and we’ll remove your tag, no offense taken. if you want to be part of the taglist, send us an ask/message and we’ll add your name!

@charme-de-malchan​ @aveline-rose​ @bookblokeanoid​

[wintaejk]

Jungkook’s FIC REC | OS 2

I had too many links on the other post. Here is the second part of my Jungkook’s fic rec but with others themes.

Again, all those fictions belong to the amazing authors who wrote them, not me. I want to thank them once more. 

(f) = fluff

(a) = angst

(m) = mature

magical au

— Trick or Treat: Howling for You (F) (M) — by @fortunexkookie​

The way your Little Red Riding Hood costume lured over a fuckboy in a half-assed werewolf costume was a little cliche, but god damn was he beautiful. He promised he had plenty of big things to show you, and you took him up on the offer, not realizing that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

werewolf au | established relationship | +14k

— rottenfolk (M) — by @junqkook​

a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

faerie au | royalty au | +13k

Commentary - If there’s only one one-shot I could recommend you to read of all tumblr, it would probably be this one. For me, it is rare to acheive such a level of mastery in fantasy fictions. Writing is already complicated, but when you have to place the readers in an unknown universe, it is even harder.                         However, the real brilliance of this story is the end. Because the end is supposed to satiate the reader in a way or another, it is supposed to offer what all the reader craved: a sort of closure. But here we all are, waiting for a sequel, because this story will make you want a next episode. And that is the brilliance, because you will surely never forget a story with that kind of power.                         So those are some of the reasons why this fiction is for me a mix of art, smartness and excellence ; and also why you would be missing something huge by not reading it.

— overdrive (M) — by @junqkook​

you thought meeting jungkook was just a coincidence, but the universe didn’t deal in coincidences.

vampire au | soulmate au | enemies to lovers | +13k

— Crescent Bound - Jungkook (F) (M) — by @parkhabits​

A pact bound by the moon. A secret kept only amongst themselves. Each of them experiencing their own cycles of heat.

werewolf au | friends to lovers | +12k

— Room 109 (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

Having Jungkook as your apartment buddy was a lot to get used to. But with one early day, your heat comes up much stronger than usual, and you were desperate for an alpha’s touch.

werewolf au | roommate au | alpha!jungkook | +6k

— after dark (M) — by @seokoloqy​

Jungkook has served the royal family for generations, seen them live and die countless times. When it comes to you, he can’t watch you wither away too, but your lust for one another makes it harder and harder to stay apart.

vampire au | royalty au | knight!jungkook | +8k

— Life’s Blood (F) (A) (M) — by @littlenoona​

You produce blood cells at an increased rate when blood is lost, effectively, you cannot bleed out. This ability has served you well so far, even gaining you a rare friend, and you’ve made it your source of income, but it also has its downsides, one of which you’ve managed to avoid successfully, until now.

vampire au | +13k

— you come in waves (A) (M) — by @angelguk​

if jeongguk had a choice, he would destroy the sun. it’s not like he needed it for warmth due to his werewolf abilities making him a scorching radiator. it would also help his heart. because you look delectable in that stupid bikini.

werewolf au | friends to lovers au | 4k

— tell me your secrets (i’m all ears) (F) — by @jinpire​

You’re not afraid of Jeon Jeongguk. Even if he’s probably some kind of bear or giant cat shifter, and just a hint of his irritation had your instincts vibrating beneath your skin like a live wire. Your thumb brushed over the plastic dome of mini-Levi’s head, taking comfort in the cartoon scowl and dead eyes, the tiny grey sticks of his 3DM gear. Small could be pretty fucking powerful too.

shifter au | college au | bunny!kook | +6k

drabbles: nooks and naps - foxie moxie (don’t pull my tail) - look before you leap  - fluffles and kerfuffles

— Pomegranate Seeds (M) — by @taetaebaepsae​

Jungkook thinks he’s found the perfect new roommate, but little doesn’t he know you’re just aching to corrupt him.

demon au | roommate au | virgin!jungkook | +4k

other themes

— Every Kind of Way (F) (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

{Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK.}

strangers to lovers  | established relationship  | +14k

Commentary - I remember when this fiction was posted. I read the teaser a few days before, and I was waiting for it. I remember the exact date of the release of this story, and let me tell you it never happens to me. But this is how much I liked this story. This masterpiece.                         This fiction is 95% made of smut. This is a warning if you don’t like that. However, what I like about Ashley’s works is that smut is not only smut (okay, sometimes it’s just pure filth but whatever). It’s not the first time I’ve read a piece of work of her and that I’ve been so thankful of reading her. Because the stories she writes are realistic. Sex is not always perfect. Sex is not always like in porn. Sex can be embarrassing. And this is why I love what Ashley writes, because she always have that realistic point of view on life. And sometimes it’s also nice to not turn everything into porn.                          What is very likeable - I said likeable? I meant loveable, sorry - about that story is also the three different stages of the relation of Jk and reader. This is also something I like about her writings. Life evolves, relationships evolve, and so does sex. So in this story, you will experience three different Jungkook. And it’s three reasons why you should read this fiction, three reasons why you will probably love it.                          One thing is sure, this chef-d’oeuvre will leave you wondering if your eyes have been burnt by the smuttiness or blessed by all the talent of this writer.

— tattooed two (ft. kth) (F) (M) — by @httpjeon​

your boyfriend’s best friend joins you for a night you’ll never forget.

tattoo artist au | established relationship  | poly au  | +8k

— Inkling (A) (M) — by @gguksgalaxy​

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

tattoo artist au  | +17k

— Freak-quency (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

His eyes sparkle and he fights back a smile when he asks you why. “Is it because I didn’t give you something else to swallow like I said I would,” he questions, halfway through a much less subtle adjustment of his growing erection. Yoongi was right, he wants to be in trouble.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | +8k

— Boots (M) —

3000+ words of Ashley kinking on Jungkook’s boot. That’s it.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | part of Freak-quency  | +3k

— Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold (A) (M) — by @filmflowersbangtan​

It was around this time almost three years ago when Jungkook moved to LA after his band got signed to a famous record label. He told you that he’d keep in contact with you. That he’d visit as much as he could. That he loved you. But about a month after leaving, he stopped texting and calling as much. And then a mere week after the band’s first EP dropped, Burning Rabbit was a sensation.

rocksatr au | ex lovers  | +3k

— Brother’s best friend (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

In which Y/n owns a smut blog dedicated to her crush and brother’s best friend, jungkook. it was all fun and games until he finds out about it and acts it out with you.

brother’s best friend!jungkook  | +5k

— Sugarplum Elegy (F) (A) (M) — by @bymoonchild​

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

friends with benefits  | college au  | idiots to lovers | +17k

— The Kids Aren’t Alright (F) (A) (M) — by @sketchguk​

Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

friends with benefits  | pastor’s kid!reader  | +10k

— Gym (F) (M) — by @hobiwonder​

Jungkook has a crush on you and has been watching you work out at his gym. One day you finally confront his obvious crush.

business woman!reader  | fratboy!jungkook  | older reader | +8k

— Gravity Check (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook is your oh-so-handsome climbing instructor.

climbing instructors!jungkook  | strangers to lovers  | 14k

— The Monogamy Monologues (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

fuckboy!jungkook  | wedding planner!reader  | strangers to lovers  | +42k

— The Virgin Volume (F) (A) (M) —

This fic exists in the RMCC universe. It takes place before RMCC and is the story of how Jungkook lost his virginity. To quote Seokjin/Namjoon: “What Jungkook doesn’t know won’t hurt him and – let’s be honest – his story is hilarious. One pump,” Seokjin laughs, sounding like a hyena. “One pump and he’s done.” // Ducking his head, Namjoon tries not to smile. “It was a rookie mistake,” he protests, defending their friend. “Jungkook was overexcited and couldn’t control himself. He got better.”

college au  | friends to lovers  | prequel to TMM  | +6k

— everlasting (A — by @kimvvantae​

being able to love the same person forever is a blessing given from the heavens. to you, however, eternity has become a curse.

reincarnation au  | 18k

— Performances (M) — by @littlenoona​

The same handsome guy has been appearing at your performances and you become more and more interested in who he is - now you’re dancing only for him, despite a hall full of people.

strangers to lovers  | professional dancer!reader  | +6k

— Matching Hearts (F) (A) — by @gukwluv​

a drunk call to your ex boyfriend leads to a night of fun adventures that make you wonder why you even split in the first place.

exes au | +3k

— locker room talk (M) — by @minnpd​

You end up having a rather heated talk with Jeon Jungkook in the locker room when he announces he has been chosen for the audition you both participated to.

dancer au | enemies to lovers | fuckboy!jungkook | +5k

— not quite lovers (M) — by @junqkook​

hiring jeon jungkook as your personal assistant happens to have more than one perk.

workplace au | friends with benefits | ceo!reader | +15k

— By Its Cover (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook makes a very bad first impression.

workplace au | enemies to lovers | 21k

— Mind in the Gutter (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who?

workplace au | bowling au | strangers to friends to lovers | +18k

[bubbashawn]

Fine Line || part i

author: here we go, lovies!! Want to give a quick shoutout to my babe @wholesomemendes because Kaleigh has been so supportive and I love her. Also quick thanks to @sauveteen and @shawnjpeg for writing you flower, you feast (I tagged it) because it made me want to do this and @watchmegetobsessed because she reinstated my need to write this story when I read back to you (i tagged it). I hope you fall in love with Maia like I did and enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!!

synopsis: she walks the fine line between friends and lovers. he walks the fine line between love and heartbreak. they walk the fine line where everything is blurred.

warnings: 4.2k of oblivious “best friends” obsessing over each other. It’s a little angsty but more fluffy than anything.

Jet-lagged Shawn is simultaneously Maia’s favorite and least favorite version of Shawn. Or maybe her favorite was her drunk Best Friend after her seventeenth birthday when he became affectionate and clingy crying out her name. But the jet-lagged version was definitely up there.

He looked soft, in grey sweatpants and his ‘Youth’ sweatshirt. With hooded eyes, rosy cheeks, and chapped lips, emulating a sigh from the back of his throat. Exhaustion hid messily behind his smiling features. It was clear to her though. Maia could recall this look, and his crushing weight on top of her, since high school before he was selling out stadiums.

She enjoyed this sleepy side because she knew what followed his sweet demeanor. His forehead would crease, his hands would tug at his perfect curls, his voice would drop to a grumble while his muscles flexed. It was the worst.

Maia has seen a lot of jet-lagged Shawn throughout the years. Whether he was in a different country while on tour or flying to Los Angeles from Toronto too much, she’d confidently say she knew her best friend in this state quite well.

The Oceania leg of his headlining world tour was complete. Shawn had rushed from Auckland, New Zealand all the way to his condo, and happily found her curled around the softest blanket he owned, sunk into his white couch.

The second he heard ‘New Girl’ reruns coming from his tv through the door, his heart was light. Finding Maia exactly where he hoped she’d be, just bringing up his heart rate further. And he took a minute just drinking her in. It didn’t matter that her hair was messy with knots littered about, that her, his, sweater was wrinkled, and she softly snored. It didn’t matter that those noises began overpowering the dialogue of the show she’d seen too many times to count.

What mattered to Shawn was seeing his Maia for the first time in months. She didn’t live here, though he had asked her to move in with him on multiple occasions, she had always refused because her life was in Montreal, five hours and eleven minutes away from him. A few hours doesn’t seem terrible, because frankly, it wasn’t, but Shawn missed seeing her the moment he got home. Back when she lived in Toronto, a mere four-minute drive from the famous boy, Maia ended up spending more time frolicking through his halls than her own.

Things did change, though. No matter how hard Shawn denied it. Because she got her dream job, and she moved away. Away from him.

Yet, here she was. His Maia, five hours away from her congested apartment, instead found sleeping soundly in his. Shawn couldn’t be happier seeing her there. He toed the heel of his Chelsea boots off his feet and shuffled over, praying his socks would mute the sounds of movement. Crouched by Maia’s face, hand coming up to cup her cheek, he was undeniably adoring her. He stared from this closer angle before pressing the calloused pad of his thumb across her cheekbone and peacefully roused her from her dreams.

“Papillon?”

She had called him that jokingly in school after a French class they had together. Leaning against her locker as students bustled and shoved their way down the small halls of Pine Ridge Secondary School. One extra aggressive classmate pushed so hard against Shawn’s bag he ended up pressed into Maia.

“You’re so fragile, Papillon.”

“Papillon? What ev-”

“It’s French for butterfly.”

“Really? And why am I a butterfly again?”

She had responded with some stupid excuse about him being delicate and a clutz before shoving him off her chest.

The nickname stuck. It didn’t matter that Shawn’s limbs had filled out or that he could lift her off the ground with ease. He was always Maia’s Papillon.

Her eyes were shut tight, her brows furrowed, and she mewled his name in question over and over.

“Maia,” he smiled when your shifting eased as his voice echoed along the walls, “Flower, I’m right here. Open your eyes, M.”

“Papillon?”

He watched as her eyes opened and nodded, his smile only growing when her arms wrapped around his neck.

Maia had driven, on Ontario-401 East, with every intention of surprising Shawn. She had thought about going all out, but after considering how jetlagged he’d be, Maia simply bought some popcorn preparations and flipped his television on.

“When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago. We took the long route home, Jake said something about a wreck on Gardiner Expressway.”

She nodded, too overwhelmed by her happiness to speak more. Maia’s hands found the small of his back, under the navy fabric of his sweatshirt, and pulled his body over her figure. Shawn’s arms quickly adjusted to brace his weight on his forearms on either side of her pouting face.

“What?” He flicked the hairs framing her face out of her eyes, “don’t give me that look!”

Her hands pressed down harder on his back, trying to effectively press his body down to hers.

“Stop! Your hands are so fucking cold. Jesus Christ, woman.”

Maia’s hands slipped out from under his clothes, holding his shoulders. Pulling down harshly, still wanting his weight on her.

“Honey,” Shawn’s hands slid along her jaw, “hey, I really don’t want to crush you.”

“Just c’ mere.”

“Flower, I love you, but I’ll crush you.”

He wasn’t lying; his 6’2” frame would smother Maia’s shorter figure, by seven inches. She had always been dainty, her hands barely reaching his second knuckles when they compared their hands.

“I know,” she smiled sheepishly, “you’re just far away.”

Shawn agreed, even though their legs were intertwined, her chest was pressed to his, and he felt her familiar heartbeat. He smiled softly when Maia continued pouting until he quickly shifted to flip their position. His body, now resting against the cushions, cradled her as she laid on top of him.

“I’m right here,” his hands made grabby motions at her hips.

She was quick to oblige, her head tucking into the crook of his body. Her lips grazed the crease in his shoulder, her hair brushed along the underside of his jaw. This was her favorite Shawn, the one who seemed happy to just exist with her.

“Bub.”

“Mmm?” He hummed against her skin, Maia felt the goosebumps crawling up her spine from the vibration.

"I have popcorn and hot chocolate makings on your counter.”

He hummed again, softer this time. Shawn knew they'd move from this position before too long because she wasn’t really his to hold, not like this, at least. No matter how many times he called her his Maia. She’d never be his, not really.

“Let me hold you a little longer,” he relished in the feeling of her lips pressed sweetly to his neck, “okay? M, just a little longer.”

“You good?”

His hands squeezed the curve of her side, before letting her pull away just barely. His perfect Maia coming into view.

“More than good,” he smiled as she brushed her finger down the bridge of his nose, “perfect, really.”

Her smile grew, her gaze remained locked on his. Maia leaned down, kissing the scar on his cheek, remembering that day happily. His heart almost hurt from beating so hard, and Shawn had to hold back a whimper when her eyelashes fluttered. She was so perfect, staring down at him. The moment broke off much too fast for either of them as she rose to her feet, hand outstretched for his.

“I love you, Papillon.”

“I love you too,” Shawn’s eyes locked on their intertwined hands, “God, I really fucking missed you.”

She just laughed and pulled him towards the kitchen. Both with gushing smiles and red cheeks, looking like a teenager with a stupid crush.

Maia wasn’t lying when she told Shawn she’d gone shopping for popcorn, but she wasn’t being completely truthful either. She had stocked up all his cabinets with food of all kinds, including a takeout box holding his favorite french toast from Regine Cafe, a local favorite down the block from her Montreal apartment. She had bought the makings of chocolate chip muffins, and he saw what looked like all the parts of a traditional English roast dinner. Shawn’s favorite meal his mom, Karen, makes when she comes by.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re too good to me, we even out,” she chuckled, stepping up behind him, “I know you get homesick, and I just saved your mum the drive down. She always made you food before you get home, and I was already here. It made sense, Shawn.”

He hadn’t even been processing Maia’s voice behind him, all too focused on her small arms looping around his waist, her chin resting between his shoulder blades.

“Either way, thank you.”

“You’d do the same.”

“True,” she could practically hear his eye roll, “but, just let me say thank you.”

“Okay.”

The two just remained in the corner of the kitchen, enjoying the sweet, homey silence of Shawn’s condo. They worked happily making hot chocolate because it was past midnight, neither of them needing caffeine, and Maia had never liked the bitterness of coffee. Before long, they both had steaming mugs being stirred with silver spoons.

“Put your drink down.”

“Why?”

“Just,” he smiled at her confused look, “trust me, okay? Drink down, Flower, please.”

The moment the ceramic touched the marble countertop, his hands found the small of her waist just above her hips. He lifted Maia into the air, chuckling, as she squealed in shock. The hair of her arms stood up, her warm skin made contact with the cold counter she was now sitting on. She nearly gasped when Shawn’s hands found home under her shirt where the fabric met her cotton shorts, kneading the skin gently.

“You’re crazy,” her head fell to his shoulder.

“Yeah, for you. Only for you, M.”

Her heart dropped, freezing up her whole body, but Shawn’s hands continued to massage the tight muscle.

“Jesus, woman, why are you so tense? It’s just me.”

“Would you stop saying ‘woman’?”

“You are one, aren’t you?”

He was being cheeky, Maia’s body remained stiff in his hold.

“Relax,” his lips kissed her forehead, hoping she’d melt into his touch again, he repeated his mumble, “it’s just me.”

Shawn continued to move his hands, reassuring her of his words, until she slumped against him like putty in his hands. She turned her head, letting her lips brush the soft skin above his collarbone. Maia’s eyes fluttered closed, enjoying their closeness, knowing she couldn’t have it for much longer.

“Honey,” she hummed against his skin, sending vibrations down his spine, “what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve just been clingy.”

Maia’s eyes snapped open the second he finished his remark, quickly, adjusting her legs, forcing Shawn to move out from between her thighs. She offered him a half-ass, awkward smile before hopping off the counter.

“Whoa, wha-what?” He followed her figure with his eyes, not moving, still in shock from her sudden distance, “what just happened?”

“Nothing, um, I’m heading to bed, it’s late.”

“Flower…”

“See you in the morning?”

“What about,” his eyes searched for an excuse for her to stay, “what about your hot chocolate?”

“You can have it or just dump it in the sink.”

Shawn nodded his head, a frown on that perfect face of his as he watched Maia leave the kitchen, wandering down the hall.

He just stood there, processing the demeanor change, it was completely drastic to your soft persona he adored so much. His hands found his curls tugging on them harshly like she had predicted he would at some point, just not for the same reason. Shawn hated it when she blocked herself off from him, especially when he caused it.

Maia was never one to let her emotions out, she liked to keep them bottled so no one would worry until Shawn would mumble one word and she’d be falling apart in his arms.

His hands absentmindedly found the two lukewarm mugs dumping them into his sink and placing them on the metal drainer, reminding himself to deal with it in the morning. The quiet the two of them shared, now seemed bitter practically nipping at his mind until he walked down his hallway. He found himself staring at his bedroom door.

He let the light from the hall sneak in when he entered the room, not wanting to disturb your quiet and unmoving body with the overhead fixtures. His hands found the neckline of his soft sweatshirt, pulling it from his body. The once comforting warmth was now claustrophobic against his flustered skin. Shawn wanted her cold fingertips to run along the valleys in his back, to lure him to sleep. He lightly padded his way to the bed, feeling around the duvet for the curve of Maia’s figure only to come up empty. The mattress was cold, her perfume only lingering from that morning when she crawled out. Shawn could feel his stomach drop, knowing she was upset enough to not curl into his king-sized bed for comfort.

He flopped back, not bothering to pull any blanket over him, his arm folded behind his head as he considered his choices. Knowing Maia wouldn’t fall asleep laying across the hall from him, Shawn climbed out after only minutes of staring longingly from the ceiling to the crack between his door and the frame.

He stood silently in the hall, peeking into the guest room, sure enough seeing her resting form in a lump under the wool blanket stolen from his bed. His legs had a mind of their own walking towards you until he was kneeling at the foot of the mattress. He felt the fabric sink under the new weight, and Maia’s red eyes were connected with his all too welcoming honey ones. He could barely see her face, but the city lights reflected off her cheeks, tear tracks hitting him in the gut all over again. Shawn walked around the bed until he was kneeling by her face, just like she’d seen him earlier that night.

“Shawn, what ar-” her voice was cracked, and she had sniffled when taking a breath.

“Baby,” he was basically whimpering, reaching to cup her damp cheeks, “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything, okay? M, I shouldn’t hav-”

“Shaw-”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk to me. I swear, I just wanted to be helpful. And you’re absolutely not clingy, I love it when you let me in, and you are so close to me. Flower, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.”

Shawn was crying, when Maia’s hands gripped his. Pulling him into her embrace, this time, however, he let his weight crush her dainty figure.

Shawn buried his head deep in her dark hair, his lips moving next to her ear mumbling.

“Sorry, Baby,” he repeated, again and again, mixed with sweet nothings.

“Papillon, hey,” she pulled his head back, so their temples pressed together, his nose against her cheekbone, “hey, I overreacted, please calm down. It kills me to see you like this, Bub.”

He pulled back further to hold her gaze, both their teary eyes making them let out soft chuckles of relief. Shawn rolled them over, letting his Maia bury herself in his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne.

“I love you,” He littered kisses on her eyelids, before letting Maia curl up in her spot in his neck.

“Mmm,” she hummed, the goosebumps down Shawn’s spine were back, “I love you too, Papillon, so much.”

He smiled as her breathing evened out, her grip loosening but still holding his bare chest against her now sleeping body. Shawn let his hand travel across the expanse of her spine under his sweater, adorning her figure. Maia leaned into his touch, her mind not letting her overthink in its restful sleep. It was like all her inhibitions were gone when his calloused thumb stroked the curve between her shoulder blades, enjoying the softness of her tanned skin. This was Shawn’s favorite Maia. His Maia. It was rare, but when he could just hold her silently, it always sent a serene wave over his mind just being with the girl he adored, holding her.

Shawn didn’t mind that he didn’t sleep before the sun peeked through his windows, the rays sending a glow over the skin he could see from the gap between her shorts and the rolled-up knit fabric of his sweater. He didn’t mind staring at her with a soft smile because he couldn’t sleep. His jetlagged head was eight hours ahead of hers. He definitely wouldn’t mind curling up with her later when he did, finally, tire out sometime in the afternoon.

“Shawn?”

His gaze moved from where his hand grazed her skin to her now open eyes, hours after sunrise. Shawn took in the depth and warmth of her brown irises. He smiled when her cheeks crinkled as she giggled at his sheepish expression, after being caught watching her sleep.

“How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” he was lying, Maia could tell when he gazed back down at his hands, not daring to make eye contact, “how did you sleep?”

“Good. What time is it in New Zealand?”

“Like twelve or one I think, why?”

“You haven’t slept?”

“Honey, it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep early tonight, eh?”

She nodded yawning and enjoyed her view of her best friend's home. Maia’s hands found the edge of the covers, pushing them off of her, Shawn's hand slipping out from under her clothes when she adjusted. He quickly grabbed her waist, pulling her back into bed, flush against his chest when she tried to climb out.

“Where do you think you’re going, Flower?”

“Mmm, up.”

He held her tight when she went to stand again, laughing when she huffed, realizing she’d be unable to overpower his strength.

“Shawn, our day is already shortened because you’ll be collapsing in exhaustion by like two.”

“I’ll stay up for you.”

“Yeah,” she frowned from on top of him, his hands holding her down on his stomach, “you and I both know that’s not what I want, Papillon. It’s not healthy.”

“Stop your worrying, woman.”

“Stop calling me ‘woman’”

She groaned, still sitting on him, her legs on either side of his waist. His hands squeezed her legs, showing no signs of letting go at any point. Maia realized a morning cuddled into Shawn wouldn’t hurt, even if both their sleep schedules changed in the result, so she let her chest slump onto his and just enjoyed the feeling of his touch everywhere.

“Shawn?”

“Mmm?”

“How long are you home for?”

He sighed and his movements stopped for a moment before she looked up at him. Shawn smiled down at the girl in his arms before continuing to rub her back and kissed her forehead softly.

“My first show is the twenty-ninth,” he tried to ignore the pull on his heart when Maia frowned, “so, I’ll leave in a couple weeks for rehearsal and publicity.”

She nodded, wanting to say something along the line of ‘I wish you could stay’ or ‘I wish I could go with you’ but, wishes were all they’d be. So, Maia held her tongue not wanting to give Shawn any ideas or hopes that she’ll skip the rest of her school semester. She would skip the rest of the semester, she’d probably skip the rest of the year because no one, in her mindset, could say no to him.

“How long can you stay?”

“Um,” she glanced up at him, trying to see past the little stubble on his chin, resting on his chest to see his eyes, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

His eyes looked down to hers in shock, the idea of her staying in Toronto with him for two weeks almost too overwhelming.

“Really?”

“I mean, yeah. I’m taking a couple classes online right now, so I’m in no rush.”

“In that case,” he tickled at her side, getting a sweet laugh in reward, “you’re stuck with me, forever.”

“Forever?”

“Baby, now that I have you, I’m not letting you leave this bed, much less my city. Or Drake’s city, whatever”

Maia giggled and settled back in his arms, smiling at the idea of being his forever, just the two of them holed up in his bed, his apartment, and this perfect little world for both of them. Her heart fell a bit, knowing he’d share that world with a different girl, eventually, that Maia wouldn’t always get the benefits of Shawn’s love once a girlfriend enters the picture. Once he finds the love of his life.

She couldn’t bear the idea, much less a reality like that. She pulled away, just slightly.

tbreak. She’d excuse her love towards the boy on multiple occasions by choosing to believe she just missed him like any best friend should. And maybe a bit more.

Shawn could read Maia like an open book, his concerned eyes watching her, searching for answers in her silence. He watched the shift in her eyes from its warm, chocolate color to a dark, sad muddied color.

“Hey, Honey,” he was still watching her reactions, “we’re taking advantage of this time, yeah? And then it’s only a month apart, and then we’ll be back in Pickering for Christmas. My parents would love to have you again, and then I can stay in Montreal with you for a while. You’re stuck with me, M. You should know that by now.”

She smiled, but that sweet light he loved hadn’t shown up again, so Shawn pulled her down onto his chest, hoping Maia would curl into him again. She’d be happy again, and that’s all he cared about.

“I love you, Flower.”

“I love you, too,” she rested her chin on his chest, the little hairs tickling her skin, to stare at him, “I’m just homesick, I think.”

“Want to go back to Pickering for a couple days, then? I was actually thinking that’d be a good trip. I’d love to see my parents and Aaliyah again.”

“No,” he looked confused with furrowed eyebrows, “I mean, yes, but I’m not homesick for Pickering. I think I’m just missing you more than usual.”

Shawn felt like jumping around and squeezing Maia, so she’d squeal in shock, but he settled for kissing the crown of her head and holding her hip that much tighter.

“I’m right here.”

She hummed, her lips pressed into his chest, feeling the thump of his heart. He was so close, acting like Maia’s favorite Shawn. Just holding her.

“Is that why you were upset? Last night?”

Maia nodded, deciding that was close enough to the feeling of her heartbreak. She’d excuse her love for the boy on multiple occasions by choosing to believe she just missed him, as any best friend should. And maybe a bit more.

“M,” Shawn waited for her eyes to lock on his, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Papillon.”

And for once he actually believed she could be his Maia. Not his best friend. Not the girl he loved since he was seventeen when he admitted his feelings, drunk. Not the Maia he adored from a distance. His Maia.

“C’mon, up we go,” she’s pulling at his hands, “it’s Sunday, so we can head to the farmer’s market. I’ll make that raspberry jam you like to put on the bagels I brought from Montreal. It’s time to explore, eh?”

Shawn’s perfect morning is ruined just like that. It’s a wave that hits him, pulling him underwater the rips too strong. He knew she wasn’t his — his Maia. He sat up letting the covers fall from his stunning physique that Maia tried to not ogle at before turning and sashaying her way into his kitchen.

This was their reality. Walking around the market, pinkies brushing each other, her eyes searching his profile covered by those stupid Tom Ford sunglasses. They couldn’t hold hands and they definitely couldn’t kiss. They just stood side by side, longing for something they feared they’d never get. Reality sucked.

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