#because none of the bad stuff ever sticks. they always fix it. like give me something to chew on

[colorful-horses]

I'm about 75% of the way through this season, and I just gotta say, theyre really gonna have the nail the landing if they expect me to watch anymore after this lol

Get ready for more Miraculous posting, I’m about to watch season 5

[3wisellamas]

Giant Sweet Cap’n Cakes Headcanon Masterpost!

(Fun fact, I thought most of these up while on one REALLY long hike.  ^^;  You can tell I fell for these three pretty hard.)

Music:

-I like the idea that, while the three all share a love of hip hop, glitch hop, electronic music in general, and a little lo-fi for chill times, they all have different tastes outside of those.  (Meaning if you pass them the aux cord, they WILL argue!)

-Sweet's actually the biggest audiophile of the group, with by far the most eclectic tastes; he will literally put together playlists that go from dubstep to heavy metal to classical to rap to vaporwave to even country.  The others don't really get it, but they're cool with whatever he puts on, and learn a lot of new music from him!

-He also owns an electric guitar, which he just plugs into himself to use as an amp and plays early in the morning to wake the others up if needed (he's the early riser and the other two are night owls...)

-Cap'n's definitely got a more narrow focus than the other two; he likes rap and also R&B, jazz, and even a little swing/electro swing.  He's also been caught more than once listening to cheesy romantic pop songs, claiming he's just into them for their potential madamoizel-attracting uses but really he's just a sappy romantic.

-He can also rap, very well in fact, and gets Sweet to beatbox while he freestyles. 

-Heck, he's just got a good singing voice in general, helped by having a built-in autotune, and dominates at karaoke!

-K_K also has a really broad range, but stays more towards the electronic end of the spectrum -- melodic dubstep, synthpop, disco, trance, chiptune, DnB, even occasionally puts on straight-up ambient spa music to chill out to (the only genre the other two will NOT tolerate.)

-K_K has also, in the past, set up entire mini-raves just by themselves, complete with glowsticks and everything, while Cap'n and Sweet were out doing whatever.  They were...not pleased, when they got back, mostly because they weren't invited.  All three got to have one together eventually though.  

-Physical media is king in their shop; if it's not on a CD, cassette tape, or a vinyl record (or an 8-track, though they have to dig out their old player for it), they will refuse to play it, and might even ask you to leave.  "MP3" is an extremely dirty word to them.

-(In fact, they don't get along too well with the MP3 player-headed robots elsewhere in the city.)

-They are indeed always listening to music on physical media as well -- K_K and Cap'n are their own CD players (though Cap'n's one of those models that's also got a built-in FM radio), while Sweet has a straight-up Walkman.    

-(He's also the group's cassette champion, claiming his media of choice is superior to CDs because you can record music on BOTH sides of the tape!  The other two just don't have the heart to point out that each side only holds half as much music as a CD, and you don't even have to rewind those...)

-Jury's still out on Hit Clips.  Cap'n and Sweet think they're just toys, but K_K genuinely collects and appreciates them and treats them like actual music (it helps that they are only around four seconds long!)

-Believe it or not, the headphones are only decoration, all three actually just...listen to their music entirely within their own heads, though they can also switch to playing it externally on their speakers as well.  Perks of being robots!  Though, sometimes K_K has his internal volume up too high, and misses things that other people say because of it.

-Sweet also has an input port, and connects himself to his turntable to act as the speakers!  The other two are WAY too embarrassed to ask if they can use it as well.

-Sweet can play almost any instrument you throw at him, as long as it's not a woodwind (Surprisingly, he can do brass, since those work on vibration rather than air!).  He prefers his guitar or violin when he isn't spinning records on his turntable.  Where the other two just enjoy music, he's the actual trained musician.

Voice headcanons:

-Sweet:  Kind of deep, bass-y, lots of reverb, a slight tinny audio distortion to it like a low-quality recording that becomes much more pronounced when he gets upset or starts shouting.  And since he's a speaker, you can literally feel the vibrations he makes when he's speaking!

-Cap'n:  Scout from TF2.  I am sorry, but I absolutely cannot get that out of my head for him.  XD  However, he's actually putting that voice on as an "accent" of sorts, his real voice is actually super autotune-y like K_K's, and it comes out whenever he gets flustered, his pitch only getting higher and higher as it gets worse...

-K_K:  Pure autotune, he can just do whatever the hell he wants with his voice -- pitch, tone, whatever, and while he tends to keep it a little higher he can and does change it to fit his mood!  He often has a completely different voice every day, but the others are used to it.  He also just straight-up vocalizes sound effects (like, the kind that make you go "How did you just make that sound with your mouth?!") and can mimic other people perfectly (though the slight mechanical distortion does give it away).  There are absolutely no rules when it comes to K_K's voice.

-They harmonize perfectly whenever they sing together! 

Sweet:

-I like to think Sweet's actually the brains of the group; like, not SMART, he just holds their one collective braincell most often.  He does any technical work when they're building stuff, like soldering circuits or the occasional programming, and even handles a lot of the actual business operations and pays the bills.  The other two also like to follow his lead when it comes to rebellion plans, even if he’s not the official leader.

-That said, though?  It's balanced out by him being rather hotheaded and having the shortest temper by a lot.  There are REASONS why he's not usually out selling bagels with the others -- he's unfortunately prone to some more "extreme" sales tactics, like hurling half their stock at random passersby until they finally agree to buy some.  On the plus side, he's always the first to step up to defend the gang from anything that dares to harm them, and is always on guard.

-He can also hold a heck of a grudge -- don't ever get on his bad side!  Cap'n and K_K are mostly immune to this though, if he gets upset with them he works through it by the end of the day.  It helps that they can all hug it out.

-He's a bit of a perfectionist, often working overtime to try and get everything they build exactly right.  He can get really frustrated when things don't work out the way he plans, or when he can't make sense of a problem, or when Cap'n and K_K are goofing off instead of doing their part, and needs to go blast some loud music and blow off steam.

-He does have a really tough time keeping his balance, since his head is a bit heavier than the rest of his body, but he takes tripping over his own feet constantly in stride.  The biggest problem he has is with dancing -- while he'll join in with the others on occasion, he can't match their more acrobatic moves and sticks more to actually PLAYING the music they're dancing to.

-He's also really, really unlucky, just in general.  He actually considers the other two his good luck charms, since they help him out whenever he trips or gets into a bad spot!

-He's the fashionista of the group, surprisingly.  It's difficult for him to find clothes that fit his body, so he tends to get a little creative with it and has a whole closet full of different stuff!  And since Cap'n is roughly the same size they'll occasionally swap jackets.

Cap’n:

-Cap'n actually has managed to score a handful of dates with girls in the past!  However, NONE of them went well, and only one actually made it to the second date (only to break up right in the middle of it), so he always ends up returning home heartbroken and in tears.  Sweet and K_K, by this point just ready for it whenever they hear that he's going out that night, always dry him off before he shorts himself out, take him to bed and cuddle with him (platonically, I don't see them as brothers but I also don't see them as having that conversation until Cap'n's ready, which he clearly is NOT), remind him that it doesn't hurt forever and he isn't unlovable and that he'll find someone eventually, etc.

-They have sat him down multiple times to try and gently suggest to Cap'n that he might just not be into women?  And that he���s actually turning them off by trying so hard?  To which he's always just like "No, of course not.  I'm straight.  Love the ladies.  Totally.  Oh no they didn't catch me checkin' out that one dude earlier did they?  Is that what this is about?!"

-(Basically, Cap'n is just a hopeless romantic in love with the idea of being in love, but is absolutely clueless as to how it works or what he actually wants, and his best buds are always there to catch him when he falls.  ;v; )

-The glasses are prescription -- he's SUPER nearsighted, a hardware glitch he refuses to fix.  Sometimes when he's working on something close up he'll take them off, panicking when he can't find them afterwards, only to have the others point out that they're just on his head.  He’s also got non-tinted glasses, but you will not catch him DEAD wearing those unless it’s an absolute emergency.

-This dude is SUPREMELY insecure with himself.  Like, his rather questionable fixation on romance aside, he basically runs off of others' validation, the "cool" persona he's spent much of his life building up being how he hides the fact that he isn't really sure who he is, or what he wants to do with his life, or what he's even good for -- the others have learned to check on him now and then whenever he hides away in the back of the shop, since he can slip into some pretty dark places when left alone to sulk.  It took a long time for him to open up even to them to share his feelings, and sometimes still has doubts about whether they or anyone else really care about him as more than just The Smooth One...

-He's the only one of the three to actually enjoy the occasional silence, especially when he's trying to think, or whenever he's upset.  So, his headphones also serve a dual purpose -- they're noise-cancelling!

-He's the video guy, carrying around a small camcorder and constantly trying to record the group's activities, to put together into music videos!  He also just likes to record himself doing stupid stunts for posterity, though K_K just takes these and makes (affectionate) blooper reels.

-Cap'n is not his real name, similar to K_K.  However, unlike K_K, he refuses to say what it is, just that it's embarrassing.

K_K:

-K_K has a bad habit of just completely zoning out when he gets into his music, getting completely lost in the groove and needing to be pulled back to reality.  It's not a bad thing during jam sessions, but at work, or in the middle of a battle...not so much.

-He kind of needs to have some kind of music going at all times -- silence drives him absolutely CRAZY!  Though, because he gets distracted by his own music, he then misses out on entire conversations, only tuning back in towards the end.  Sometimes the other two have to repeat or summarize what they just said for him.

-He knows sign language, and taught the others to use it.  They're able to communicate reasonably well no matter how loud their shop gets, or on days when K_K isn't able to form words properly (he's just shy, and even when he isn't he gets tongue-tied a LOT).

-He's easily the best dancer of the three, and uses his extendable body to get really creative with his moves!  He even knows a little ballroom, somehow, which he'll pull out sometimes to make the others laugh.

-(Seriously, K_K CANNOT stand to see Sweet or Cap'n not smiling.  He'll do anything to keep the group's spirits up, usually cracking jokes during a scrap project or doing little favors, and they appreciate all his efforts!)

-K_K has the WORST sleep cycle, ever.  If you let him, he will stay up all night working or partying, finally going to bed at 6AM, and will then sleep until 6PM if the others don't wake him up at some point.  If they know he was up really late they'll let him sleep in a little, but he's often pretty sleep-deprived and running solely on sugar and caffeine, which doesn't help his natural loopiness.  

-He is a VERY physical guy.  Seriously, he will just scoop up and hold Sweet or Cap'n like a cat every five minutes; at first they were just like "Oh.  Okay.  We're hugging now I guess," but after a while they got more used to it and even anticipate when K_K is going to do it.  And he also initiates tons of snuggles and gives piggyback rides whenever one of his bandmates (usually Sweet) requests.  

-K_K actually scrapbooks, collecting pictures and little mementos of places he and the others have gone and things they've done.  After the library fountain is sealed, he pulls them out to show everyone else from Cyber City and reminisce about home.

-It's very hard to make K_K angry, since he tends to stay super chill and brushes off almost everything.  But, on those very, very rare occasions when something does get under his metal outer casing, he'll go full-on silent treatment, not speaking to anyone for up to a week as he sulks and stomps around the junk shop, and even refuses to play any music!  And no amount of sweets or hugs or cheering up will bring him out of it, either; the other two have learned to just wait him out and let him have his space, letting him come to them when he's finally ready to talk about it.

Misc:

-Though all three love everything sweet, K_K's the only one who really goes overboard with it, making whole meals out of candy.  Sweet, ironically enough, actually prefers more salty/savory snacks, while the less is said about Cap'n's hot sauce addiction, the better.

-Okay, actually, I will say more about it.  Cap'n loves spicy food in general, and literally drinks tabasco sauce right from the bottle.  However, he's got a bad habit of daring himself to eat hotter and hotter stuff, ESPECIALLY if someone is watching, and can easily get in WAY over his head before begging for milk.

-They also all totally drink battery acid like Queen.

-Heck, being both Darkners and robots, they can really eat literally anything.  Normal food, milk, oil, batteries, gallons of pure sugar, toothpaste, moss, glitter (NEVER let K_K get hold of any though, he gets lost in the sauce), broken glass, etc, and of course their own deep-fried CDs.  Only thing they can't do is water, since, you know, robots.

-With a lot of the aesthetics of Cyber City being close to turn-of-the millennium and early 2000s (CDs and boomboxes, popup ads, wired mice, Queen theorized to be one of those see-through iMacs, EVERYTHING about Spamton), I like the idea that the boys DO NOT have smartphones, and if you handed them one they'd have no clue how to use it or what to do with it.  But they do have cell phones:  Sweet's got an old flip phone covered in stickers (courtesy of K_K), Cap'n splurged for one of those that slide open and with a camera (he set his background to a tiny, grainy photo of the three of them!), and K_K has one of those indestructible Nokia bricks, that Sweet got him after he kept breaking all his other ones.  They can all text, but that's about as high-tech as they get.

-Same with tablets or newer computers in general, they might share one tiny netbook at most.  Cap’n never remembers to log out of his Dark World dating profile, so the others will snoop or post embarrassing things to it.

-They're really, really durable, even without milk -- they're made of 90s plastic and electronics, so it takes a LOT to take one of them down!  Plus, they regularly repair each other back at the shop (it took a LONG time for them to gain enough trust to physically open and work on each other), so as long as at least one's left to drag the other two to safety they'll be just fine.

-However, if they get splashed with water, caught in the rain, or worse, drowned, they will short out, or shut down on the spot to prevent damage.  Once they completely dry out, though, they'll start right back up, no worse for wear.  When only one of them gets waterlogged the other two will break out the hair dryers to dry them out faster, or even pop them into the oven in a pan of rice like an iPod that got dropped in the toilet...

Finally, backstory?

-Cap'n and K_K met first -- maybe both as new recruits to another, much less savory gang of music equipment robots, and bonded as a result of being put upon by the more established members (Cap'n probably even had to defend K_K more than once when his inattentiveness got him into trouble!)  But, they both had enough one day, and decided to break off and form their own thing, making music and selling CD bagels to support themselves.

-Sweet, meanwhile, has the complete opposite background, coming from a rich and important family of musicians in Cyber City who regularly entertained Queen in her mansion (hence why he always used to get sweets from her!)  But, he was kind of the black sheep, preferring his own style of music, and decided to strike out on his own as a street musician instead.

-They met when Cap'n and K_K accidentally set up to sell bagels on Sweet's usual corner, and he battled them to reclaim his turf.  But, they were evenly-matched (even two-to-one; Sweet's definitely the strongest of the trio!), and impressed each other with both their fighting and musical skills, so Sweet decided to join their tiny group, and thus Sweet Cap'n Cakes was formed.  

-After the whole situation with Queen is resolved, SCC turns their rebellion into an anti-DRM kind of thing?  Nobody can hold back the music, man!

[simpforsersi]

Deja Vu - Mobius x gn!Reader

Hey look I wrote a thing! Granted, I wrote this thing in between busy moments at work, so there’s little to no plotline. Just a tired Mobius and a supportive reader.

Summary: Pre-the fall of TVA. I’m really unoriginal so this is yet another “Mobius and the reader were a thing before they were brought into the TVA” because I can’t get over that idea. Mobius is tired and has been having weird dreams.

Warnings: I can’t think of any warnings except that I think I used the words “grin” and “smile” WAY too much. Also, this is unedited. 

Word Count: 1.5k

Anyway, I’m clearly very brain-dead and I’ve always been bad at summaries/talking about things I’ve written so just here. Have this.

"Where did you go?"

You glance up from the file you're poring over, concentration broken by the sound of Mobius' voice. He's resting his chin in one hand and muttering to himself, eyebrows furrowed.  

"Who?"

He looks up sharply, startled.

"What?"

You can't help laughing. He's so discombobulated by being yanked out of his intense focus. Maybe pulling him back into reality was for the best, though. His tie is askew, his jacket was shed long ago, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

You could push, try to find out what he's so concerned about in this particular case, but you think it might be for the best to distract him for a bit.

"Want a coffee?"

He drops his pen and leans back in his chair, rubbing his face.

"Coffee might be a good idea," he agrees, and you scrape your chair back and stand up. He pouts at you, and you raise an eyebrow. "I don't wanna get up," he sighs, resting his head against the back of his chair and closing his eyes. "I'm tired."

"I know," you say, trying not to dwell on the soft feelings that flutter to life in your chest at the fact that he trusts you enough to be so vulnerable. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, gosh," he says, bracing his hands on the table and getting ready to pull himself up. "I'm not an invalid. I can get my own coffee."

"I know," you say again. "I'll get it anyway, though."

He looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't, which proves how tired he is. You offer him a smile and leave to fetch the coffee, electing to ignore the pleasant tingling incited by his answering grin.

Balancing two coffee cups and a plate of cinnamon rolls isn’t easy, but you’re talented.

"Extra strong, because I know you like it that way. Also, I brought -- ”

You look up from the two paper cups you’re holding and lose the ability of speech.

Mobius’s face is buried in his arms, and he’s snoozing on the desk. You set the coffees and the plate down and fight the soft, feathery thing that is fluttering around inside your chest.

You could wake him up, but the poor man is clearly exhausted, and also he’s very adorable like this and you aren’t about to willingly relinquish listening to his soft snores. You sip your coffee and re-immerse yourself in your paperwork, but you end up knocking your empty mug over while you’re reaching for a cinnamon roll and Mobius wakes up with a snort.

“Sorry,” you say, wincing, righting the mug. “Just a clutz over here.”

He smiles sleepily, running a hand over his face and shifting in his seat. his hair is flat on one side and sticking up on the other, and he looks like he’s feeling a little nap-disoriented.

“That’s okay,” he says, voice raspy, and clears his throat. “You brought treats?”

“Yeah,” you say, reeling from his “just woke up” voice. “There was a tray of them beside the carafe, so I thought I’d snag some before they were gone.”

“Good thinking,” he says, reaching for one. He bites into it and makes a pleased noise that has no right doing what it does to your insides. It’s your turn to shift around in your seat. “These are amazing.”

“They’re very good,” you agree. “We should track down whoever made them and get the recipe.”

“Agreed,” Mobius says. He reaches for his coffee and swallows several mouthfuls before rubbing his face again.

“You okay?” you ask. He’s still a little bit off. It’s a different kind of “off,” but he’s not feeling right and that’s bothering you.

“Yeah -- yeah,” he says. “It’s just...”

“What?” you ask, a little too eagerly. You just want to know what’s going on so that you can try to fix it. You’re Mobius’s partner, and you always help him solve his problems. You want to do that now.

“This dream,” he says, frowning. “I keep having it. It’s so... It’s just weird.”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. He’s been knocked off-kilter by a dream? “What’s it about?”

“You,” he says, and then, blushing a little, “and me. On Earth. Doing... stuff.”

You choke on your bite of cinnamon roll. That brings a lot of thoughts to your mind that you aren’t entirely comfortable with having. Mobius is your partner, your fellow analyst, your not boyfriend or husband or anything. You’re not even supposed to want that. Boy, this is bad, but thankfully Mobius interrupts your internal panic.

“Not... not that kind of stuff,” he says, and his face is bright red. “Just... I don’t know. Cleaning the kitchen. Hanging out in cities. Riding Jet Skis.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

Your heart is beating really quickly. You were not ready for him to say anything along those lines. You could never be ready for him to say anything along those lines. This is...

“Weird,” you manage, trying not to focus on the many and very intense physical and emotional feelings that are happening right now. “What a weird dream.”

“Exactly,” Mobius says, and he has a wild look in his eyes. “None of it happened, obviously -- ”

“Obviously,” you say quickly, grabbing onto this little piece of fact in the middle of all your stormy emotions.

“ -- but it feels like it could. Or it did. Or -- ”

“Woah,” you say, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. “None of that happened. None of it will happen. This is our life, Mobius,” you gesture at the table, strewn with paperwork and an empty plate and a couple of mugs, “and it’s all we’ve ever had and all we ever will.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “We could go to a city.”

“No, we couldn’t!” you say, panicking. You’ve never heard anyone talk like this. You work at the TVA and that’s... that’s it. That’s what you have. Mobius’s words are scaring you, not least because you can see yourself. You can see it in your head, and it feels familiar, like a movie that you’ve seen a hundred times.

“We could,” Mobius insists. “I’ll throw on some swim trunks, you grab a sunhat -- ”

"It's not like I have sunhats lying around," you interrupt him. “And do you even own a pair of swim trunks?”

“That’s not the point,” he says, sounding almost frustrated. He stands up from his seat and comes around to your side of the table. You can’t breathe, from either his proximity or the things he’s saying, you’re not sure which. “We could go,” he says. “We could just leave. Walk away from all of this and start a life of our own.”

“Mobius,” you say, shocked. You don’t know how to respond.

“What do you think?” he asks. He has a longing look in his eyes that he’s clearly trying to repress for your sake. You swallow hard.

“I think you need to go to bed,” you say, more sharply than you meant to. “I think I need to, too.”

Mobius’s face falls, and you feel the sharp sting of guilt for dashing his hopes like that. But what else can you do? Leave the TVA? That’s not happening.

“Yeah,” Mobius says with a sigh, “you’re probably right.”

You swallow again. You haven’t felt this rattled in a very long time -- probably since you and Mobius had to deal with that particularly unhinged Ultron variant -- and you just want to go to sleep and wake up with all of these strange feelings that are definitely disloyal to the TVA.

“I’m pretty sure I am,” you say.

“We just drank coffee, though,” Mobius points out, looking cautiously optimistic. “We should probably stay here and work until that wears off, right?”

You’re actually feeling very tired, and you’re willing to risk an hour of tossing and turning if it means that you can stretch out between crisp sheets and try to shake off the weirdness that has settled itself over you. But Mobius is wincing a little bit, bracing himself for rejection, and you’ve already shut him down once today.

“Okay,” you concede. “Fine. But as soon as you start snoring again, I’m gone.”

“Fair enough,” Mobius says, beaming at you.

You roll your eyes at him, trying very hard not to think about the many fluttery feelings you’re experiencing, and settle back in. He returns to his side of the table, and you shuffle your papers around until they look a bit more orderly.

“Hey,” Mobius says, and you look up at him. His eyes are tender, and your breath catches in your throat. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you return, and he smiles again, kicking your foot lightly under the table.

You force your mind back onto your case, which is hard. It wants to stay where it is: thinking about a kitchen in a city where Mobius rests his hand on the small of your back when he’s reaching for something in the cupboard. You shake your head to clear it of the image, which is vivid enough that you can almost feel Mobius’s hand warm against your skin.

But that’s not your life, and it never will be, and it never was.

Right?

[alixdelcourt]

Hello hello againnn, tysm for yesterday’s request, I love your writing!<3 I have a new idea I just thought of, tamaki + mha guys/girls (of your choice and if you write fruity fics too) with a reader who draws a lot? And maybe they get caught or they see a sketch of them? If it isn’t so much to ask for- ty!!!

MHA boys x reader who draws a lot

Some fluff and sweetness to brighten your day (I hope so)

Ft : Tamaki, Izuku and Denki

(First pic credits : Peachimis on TikTok)

It’s a beautiful day. The weather is fine: clear blue sky and warm sun. You and Tamaki are strolling in a parc, admiring the nature around and the ambient calm. Your boyfriend carries a wicker basket for you, holding your lunch and stuff in. When you two got hungry, you just settle under a big tree, unwrapping a blanket and having lunch in the branches’ shade. This was the kind of perfect dates that makes you so in love with Tamaki. He’s quiet, and like peaceful time, just like you. Birds of a feather flock together, isn’t it ?

Tamaki’s reading, comfortably leaning against the trunk, and you are scribbling some sketches in your sketchbook. Drawing is a passion, and you can’t help but try to picture whatever’s near you. This sketchbook is your private garden, and Tamaki respects it. He never presses you to show him what you had drawn, he just knows that if you want to, you would come up to him, asking for his opinion about it.

And today, you want to show him the picture of a cute bird who was perched just above your head. You wanted to know if it’s resembling to the model or not. You need an outside look.

“Tamaki ?”

He raised his nose from his book to look at you.

“Yes, (y/n) ?”

“Could you take a look at something ?”

“Of course, honey”

You hand you sketchbook to him, but when he took it from you, a wind blow turned the pages, loosing the small bird’s sketch. And Tamaki came face to face with… himself. It was him, on the drawing. His purple hair, his elf ears, his thin hands… But he was pictured as an angel. It was… really well done, and absolutely lovely.

You quickly shut and take back your sketchbook, brick red colored cheeks. But it was too late. He saw it. And he was hard blushing as well. You were embarrassed. You felt obligated to apologize:

“ I am sorry… Just forget about this… You should never have seen that. It’s bum, anyway… I am sor-”

You can’t continue, because Tamaki arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to his embrace. He’s still blushing, and can’t hold your gaze, but he wasn’t mad. Not at all. He was softly smiling, burying his nose in your hair. This drawing was the most precious confession you made for him. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

“It’s not bum. It’s perfect. I love it.”

And before you could add anything else,

“I love you, (y/n).”

Izuku Midoriya is sick again, and stuck in the infirmary. He had a hard time training when he did push too much on himself, and he needs to rest for a few days. You went to check on him with some friends, and poor baby was so anxious about skipping school and having trouble caching up what he missed.

You have a huge crush on Izuku, and in order to help him, and maybe score some points to him, you decided to take double notes in class, writing down in a new notebook, just like those used by Izuku himself. You’ll give to him after school, so you’re not obliged to lend him your messy notes, and he’ll be able to catch up studying in the infirmary. It was a bit hard to order and organize your note taking, but you want it to be well presented for him.

You struggle at the beginning, but get used quickly to write faster in order to double note on your book and his. Even Aizawa noticed and asked what were you doing. He lowkey congrats you for your “team spirit”. You did it all day long, in every class. You can be pride of yourself, it was a great idea.

But you didn’t notice. You didn’t pay attention to your bad habits. You’re an airhead, having trouble concentrating, and you need to focus your mind on something and keep your hands busy with some repetitive moves. Like fold and unfold the corner of the pages, clicking your pen, or just randomly scribbling on your pages’ edges. Little doodles that you don’t even look at. Oblivious drawings of what’s in your head.

Shiny smiling on, you head to the infirmary immediately after the bell ringing. Recovery Girl let you visit Izuku, who was better than yesterday.

“Izuku-kun ! How are you today ? Better ?”

“Yes, thank you for caring, (y/n)”

You took the notebook out of your bag, and give it to him. His name was beautifully calligraphed on it. He blushed a bit, looking at you for some explanations.

“I did this for you ! So you can study like us, even if you are not taking classes. It’s yours, you can keep it ! But since you’re not coming back tomorrow, Recovery Girl told me, I’ll come in the morning to get it back and to take note for you again. Does it sound okay for you ?”

After long minutes of embarrassed and grateful thanks from Izuku, you left him alone to study and rest.

The next day, as promised, you picked his notebook from his nightstand, since he was asleep, and nearly arrived late to your class. You sit at your desk and prepare yourself to take notes. When you open Izuku’s notebook, a fold paper drops from it. Your name was on it, so you unfold it. You freeze, eyes and mouth wide open, skin turning to a scarlet tone. Matching the redness of the heart that was drawn on the paper. A big bright red heart. With Izuku signature. A few moments later, still red, you have to concentrate if you don’t want to miss what Ectoplasm was explaining. Mathematics always give you headache, so you need to concentrate. It was then that you noticed what Izuku probably noticed as well. Little sketches of him. Everywhere. Him in his hero costume, in his school uniform, in school sportswear, smiling, winking, sticking his tongue out, with random little stars and tiny hearts everywhere.

RIP you. And RIP him as well. He wasn’t asleep this morning, he was all flustered and shy. Was your sketches some kind of flirting ? Even if he likes you as well, he just doesn’t know how to deal with this. But nor do you. Poor crushing babies. Good luck.

Denki is playful. No doubt on that. He’s such a flirt with everyone. It’s his personality. He can’t help it. But when he is in love, it gets worse. You won’t say that he was embarrassing you, but you were confused every  time he smiles or winks at you when you two are in class. In the dorms, he would randomly touch your hair, compliment your food, want to sit next to you on the couch… More than with the other girls. You like all those small attentions, but it makes you feel… insecure. Maybe paranoid. Definitely awkward. He gets flirtier and flirtier every day. Like he was waiting for something. But what ?

He was waiting for you to fall in love, and maybe confess to him afterwards. Even if it seems strange, he’s too shy to do it himself. Everyone is used to him being a tease, but how would you react if he started being romantic ? He’s afraid that you may reject him. Poor baby, don’t please, you would break his heart.

But he’s done waiting. You divert all his attention, he can’t think about anything else than you. So he decided to do something. He’ll let you know about his feelings, but not directly , so you none of you would be embarrassed if it doesn’t work. If you don’t like him, you will just ignore it, and he will be fixed. At least, he has to give it a try.

So, an evening, while everyone was in the common space of the dorm, he sneaked in your room, with a little chocolate box and a letter. A long letter explaining everything. His feelings, the fact that he can’t face you and would die collapsing if he ever tries to, and that you’re not obliged to answer. His heart was speed racing in his chest, and it nearly stopped when he noticed your desk board. There was plenty of little drawings pinned on it, from memo’s notes to random papers full of sketches.

Dozens of little Pikachus staring and smiling at him, or at everyone who would sit on the chair. So you. You were surrounded by drawings of the little electric mouse. He approached in order to ogle the details, and he saw it. Some mention of his name. Little “Denki” written here and there. He imagined you, daydreaming and nibbling the tip of your pencil, like you do in class or when you study, and thinking of him. This thought filled him with the courage he was lacking to tell you about his feelings. He just dropped what he was holding, before running to the common space. No time to waste. He already waited too long.

You were sitting on a high stool near the counter, chatting with others and watching Bakugou cooking. Like everyone, you turned your head when you heard quick footsteps arriving. Why was Denki running ?

“(Y/N) !”

You raised an eyebrow, and before you could answer, he pressed his lips against yours and kissed you with all the love he feels towards you. You don’t remember what happened next because your mind just… stopped working.

“What was that for ?”

“The pikachus”

Mina and Denki voices brought you back, before fainting again when you heard the word Pikachu.

_________________________________________

Heeeere :) Hope you'll enjoy it. Let me know if you want me to change or to fix anything, and feel free to request anything else.

[mae-gi-writes]

Pretty Smitten | Kuroo Tetsurou

Harry Potter x Haikyuu!!

Summary ◇ it's like second nature for Slytherin's beater Kuroo to always find something to tease you about, until his best friends Bokuto and Tsukishima make him realize it might hide something more.

Genre ◇ hogwarts au! Slytherin! Cocky Kuroo x Hufflepuff f!reader, mentions of Bokuto,  Tsukishima, Hinata, Oikawa, Daichi etc...

◇ ◇ ◇

Thwap!

You duck out of the way just in time to evade the bludger that zips across your head, so close you feel it brush against your ear as your broom zooms you out of the way. The wind isn't making it easier as it tugs at your clothes, weighing you down while you keep on flying around the court with eyes as alert as a Hawk's for the disappearing snitch.

In truth, you don't really enjoy Quidditch all that much. It was merely due to the captain of the Hufflepuff Team, Daichi, who cornered you upon having accidentally caught sight of your flying skills one winter afternoon. He'd grown to be one of your close friends though, which always makea it hard to pull out and whenever you do mention that maybe it is time for the team to take in a new Seeker, he'd instantly change the subject.

And you wouldn't have been so adamant on trying to force your way out of the team. If not for a particular raven-haired Slytherin Beater.

Speaking of the devil. There he is, that familiar crooked smirk dangling upon his lips as he lazily flies over to you.

"Y/N, aren't you a little laid back!?" He calls out and you roll your eyes, pushing yourself forward to fly as past away as possible.

Too late. He catches up quickly enough, grin widening as he continues, "I know we said it's a practice match but come on, could've put some more heart into it."

Throwing him a scowl that would've scalded anyone but himself, you accelerate your speed. As expected, he follows, "so I heard from Kenma that you failed your Potions midterm. Not that I'm surprised really, you never really had a talent for--"

"How is that any of your business?" You mutter, adamantly fixing your gaze on Daichi so as not to accidentally push Kuroo off his broom.

What a nice thought indeed.

"Aha, that's where I come in. Fortunately for you, I am quite adept at Potions see. I could teach you," from your peripheral you notice him wriggle his brows and you roll your eyes, "for free."

Your knuckles turn white as they tighten around your broom handle.

"No thanks."

"You sure wanna pass this up?" He suddenly leans a little closer, smirk widening, "you could totally exploit this sexy brain of mine."

"What do you want from me, Kuroo?"

"Nothing much, just your dear old grumpy self," he replies cheerfully.

Your scowl deepens. But the offer is tempting. Potions is the only subject that you cannot get your head around and while you are aware of Kuro’s ginormous, self-inflated ego, you also know from a few of his classmates -- Daichi and Suga-- that he is quite the prodigy at Potions. 

But you don’t want to give him that satisfaction. You don’t want to give him more reason to get cocky and start another round of endless teasing where you’ll never hear the end of it. 

So you just press your lips together and mumble out a, "we'll see."

"Atta girl," and he waves a goodbye, but not before reaching over to ruffle your hair until your ponytail is barely hanging together, and you yelp in anger, having half a mind to really push him from his broom this time only to see him fly away just in time, that crooked chesire cat smile on his face. 

Idiot. 

◇ ◇ ◇

"Hey hey hey,” Kuroo knows without looking that this voice belongs to none other than one of his two best friends, Bokuto Koutarou. It was a surprise really, that him and Bokuto had stuck together throughout all these years, considering that Bokuto was a Gryffindor, and him a Slytherin.

An arm drops onto his shoulder, his best friend’s grey strands tickling Kuroo’s cheek, “I saw Y/N today. She looked cute.” 

The Slytherin Beater snorted, “Cute is an overstatement.” 

“Ah Kuroo, seems you’re as oblivious as always,” Bokuto let out a heavy sigh as he plopped himself onto the library bench next to him, “do you realize that you spend more time in the library just so that you can see her?” 

“Bullshit. I come to the library to study,” the raven-haired man gestures towards his Defence of Dark Arts book currently sprawled out before him, which causes Bokuto’s eyebrow to raise in curiosity, “like hell you’re actually studying. Now tell me,” he leans closer, voice dropping to a murmur, “do you like her?” 

Kuroo’s brain actually backfires. He bursts out laughing, “what?!” he exclaims so loudly that it earns the pair a few glares thrown their way, to which they silently bow their heads in apology. 

Bokuto turns back to him, “Wow, Tsukki was right. You are thicker than you seem to be, despite that brain of yours.” 

"What?” Kuro frowns as he protests, “I’m not thick. And--you guys talk about me behind my back?!” 

“Of course we do,” Bokuto rolls his eyes as if it’s obvious before settling his chin into his palm, “especially since we’re curious as to why you enjoy spending your time with that little Hufflepuff mouse of yours--” 

“She’s not mine, and I definitely don’t enjoy spending time with her,” Kuroo can feel the heat travel all the way to his face, blossoming through his cheeks as embarrassment curls in his stomach, “I just--”

“You just like seeing her face.”

Both men turn towards the new alto to see the Ravenclaw prefect, Tsukishima, pull out a chair to sit himself opposite Kuroo before taking out his piece of parchment and ink. 

“Not you too?” Kuroo groans, head dropping to his book.

“Also, you might want to stop flirting with her while we’re on the Quidditch pitch,” Tsukishima continues nonchalantly without looking at him, long fingers turning through the pages to find the section he’s looking for, “I almost got my arm torn off by that Bludger, no thanks to you.”

"I wasn’t flirting with her.” 

“I don’t care. Just don’t do it during practice. It’s annoying,” the blonde smirked at Kuroo’s frustrated expression. 

“I was only asking whether she’d like some help with potions. Kenma told me she failed her last midterm. I was trying to be nice.” 

“Oh? Not because you actually wanted to spend more time alone with her?” Bokuto wriggled his brows suggestively, cackling like a crow when Kuroo responded by shoving his shoulder, “no! I don’t even see her that way. She’s not my type--”

“Oya oya oya, speaking of the devil,” Bokuto’s hand plonks onto Kuroo’s hair before twisting it in the direction of the library entrance. A second later, you appear looking a little disgruntled, if not mad.

Realizing that Bokuto’s hand is still weaved into his hair, Kuroo bats it away with more violence than necessary, which gets him a pointed look from Tsukishima’s golden orbs that he responds with a scowl of his own. But before he can voice out how annoyingly invested the pair seemed to be in his love life, he feels a hand tapping him on his shoulder.

Surprise causes him to frown at the sight of you. 

“If it isn’t my dear little Hufflepuff,” Kuroo’s mouth widens in that signature smirk while crossing his arms over his chest, “what can I help you with?” 

“Kenma told me that you’d be here,” you say.

“Mhm?” 

“And I--” you bite your lip before averting your eyes and something in Kuroo stirs because goddamn he’s quite excited about what will fall from your mouth next. But he keeps his silence, waiting for you to battle it out with your pride, “I was wondering whether the offer still stands. For--tu--tutoring.” 

Your cheeks are blazing red at this point but Kuroo finds it somewhat adorable, what with the fact that you are dressed in an oversized Hufflepuff sweater that basically swallowa you whole. 

He forces his expression into a somewhat amused smirk, a little coy, just enough for you to get flustered, “what made you change your mind?” 

“My grades.” 

In the background, Tsukishima snorts. You flush a deeper red if that’s even possible.

“Alright, sure,” Kuroo grins up at you, mischief swimming in those golden feline orbs, “but on one condition.” 

“I thought you said it was free.” 

“I decided it’d be more fun to have you indebted to me.” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, you press your lips together, “what then? What do you want?” 

“I’ll let you know the details later,” he grins at you, “still haven’t figured it out yet.”

A few beats of silence pass between the two of you as you consider his offer, and he can certainly see the way your own pride measures up against your desperation, the way your orbs display your uneasiness as clearly as crystal water. It’s impossible for you to lie, but Kuroo hasn’t noticed how endearing it is, up until now.

And then, he hears Bokuto’s voice in the back of his mind: 

Do you like her? 

Kuroo blinks. Of course he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t. He does not.

Right? 

“Fine,” your voice brings him out of his inner turmoil, “we have a deal.” 

◇ ◇ ◇

If someone had ever told you that one day you’d be sitting by Kuroo’s side to spend more than three hours sticking your noses into your Potion’s back, and actually enjoying it, you would’ve burst out laughing in their faces.

But that is exactly what you are doing right now. And no one is laughing. Definitely not you.

To be fair, Kuroo is not that bad of a tutor. He actually gets pretty into it once he calms down from his teasing high, which is quite a surprising feat considering that you have never seen him serious whenever you were around. It’s always about pricking you with his comments, saying stuff that will get under your skin just enough to get a reaction out of you. 

The first time you met up in the library, you had mentally prepared yourself so that you wouldn’t murder him halfway into the lesson. Your Hufflepuff counterparts had definitely been surprised, not just because your personalities and houses couldn’t have been more different if they tried, but because Kuroo had a reputation of a playful troublemaker, the kind that you usually stayed away from at all costs. 

“Are you sure this isn’t a trap, Y/N?” Your other close friend and classmate, Nishinoya Yu, had lifted his knife into the air with an aggressive swipe, “I can come with you and stab him if ever he does something--”

“Noya-kun I think I can stab him myself,” you reassured him through a mouthful of cereal. 

“Kuroo’s not all that bad,” Daichi had suggested tentatively, though you’d snorted in response. Yeah right, not all that bad? That was a word you could not associate with Kuroo Tetsurou. 

“If he pisses you off too much just ignore him,” Kenma had simply stated when you sought out his point of view on the matter, which seemed quite logical, a suggestion that you definitely took into consideration as you’d marched towards the library doors.

But all your efforts had been in vain. Sure, Kuroo had been his usual teasing self, ruffling your hair too many times that you could count and constantly snickering into his palm whenever you got your potions and terms all mixed up. But to your ultimate surprise, he’d been quite attentive to your needs and constantly fact-checked whether you’d understood the concept before continuing his explanation. More often times than none, you had found yourself gazing at his features as a realization settled deep into your mind; that Kuroo wasn’t all that bad looking after all, and that there was some kind of charm to his messy bed of raven hair and that smirk that seemed to infuriate you to no end. 

He’d even accompany you back to your dorm whenever you ended late albeit the fact that Slytherin and Hufflepuff weren’t that far apart. The chivalry touched you, despite it coming from the Slytherin Beater.

“Who would’ve thought the almighty Kuroo would be walking me to my door,” you comment on the first night it happens as you reach the said portrait leading to the Hufflepuff dormitory, “how surprisingly romantic of you.” 

You look up at him and your eyes can’t help but trace the span of his shoulders, taking note of his height and-- has he always been this tall? He’s a giant in comparison to your tiny figure of one hundred and sixty-three centimetres.

He merely chortles at your statement, “please, romance comes naturally to me,” he gestures his hands with extravagance to prove his point.

"Sure, big guy. If reciting off science puns at me counts as being romantic.” 

“Oi! They’re funny okay!? You laughed.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re pitiful.” 

He shoves your head to the side playfully in response and you yelp, hands flying up to fix your ponytail for the nth time that night, “stop touching my head or I might think it’s your fetish or something.” 

“Even if it was, yours would be the last I’d be attracted to.” 

You chuckle, “try harder Kuroo. Your comebacks suck.” 

“Oh shut up midget.”

“Who’re you calling a midget?!”

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been spending a lot of time in Kuroo’s presence that he grows on you, or maybe it’s the fact that he might not be as bad as you thought he was. But it turns out to be more comfortable to spend time hanging out with him, familiar in ways and yet exciting, thrilling. He’s a jungle of adrenaline and filled to the brim with jokes that are more lame than funny, and yet there’s some kind of comfort to know that he isn’t as unapproachable as you first thought him out to be. 

True to his word, Kuroo is quite brilliant at potions, and quite brilliant at sharing his knowledge in a way that actually makes sense. His natural flair of leadership and sympathetic understanding -- minus the jokes and the incessant teasing -- makes you wonder why he hasn’t been chosen as Quidditch Captain. 

When you ask your question out loud during one of your study sessions, Kuroo only smirks, “are you complimenting me?” 

“Just answer the damn question, Kuroo.”

"Jeez, aren’t you a little aggressive for a Hufflepuff?” he peeks at you from behind his raven bangs, “or should I call you..huffie puffie?” 

You flick his forehead and he yelps, “lame,” you deadpan, “answer me.” 

"They did ask me,” he says, leaning back to stretch out his long arms while you try not to focus on the sinewy veins of his forearms, “I refused.” 

His answer surprises you, “Why?” 

“Because Oikawa wanted it. You know him right?” 

Who didn’t know of Oikawa? He’s a walking prince, struts around Hogwarts like its’ his private garden with his endless servants in tow. 

"That’s it? That’s your reason?” 

“He’s my friend. Wouldn’t be fair to him if I stole the limelight.” 

“...are you sure you’re not secretly a Hufflepuff?”

“You mean a huffie puffie?” 

He ducks just in time to avoid your slap, cackling like crazy until one of the prefects swat you with one of their books upon passing by.

“No, I assure you I’m not a huffie puffie,” his smirk mellows out into a grin before his chin comes to a rest upon his palm, “and plus, I’m not cute enough to be in that house.” 

Heat springs through your cheeks. Is that a compliment or an insult? You’re not quite sure. 

You decide to play along anyway, “yeah you’re right. You’re not cute enough.” 

That does nothing to deter him however, as he keeps gazing down at you with those molten gold pupils half-closed with tenderness, almost lazy, which makes you feel like squirming in your seat. 

“What?” you bark out as you look away, “stop staring. You’re acting like a creep.” 

Chuckling and clearly not flustered by the fact that you’ve just caught him red-handed, the raven-haired Slytherin leans even closer, relishing in the way your face turns a bright scarlet. You lean away, slightly panicked, "wh--what do you think you’re doing?!”

“Oh nothing, just...” and with movements too quick to comprehend, you feel his fingers gently brushing against a stray strand of hair previously stuck to your lip. 

“So, as I was saying before you interrupted me,” and Kuroo proceeds to drone on about the equal amount of hair needed for the polyjuice potion, not minding the fact that you are practically burning as red as a fire engine while your heart seems to be racing like you’ve just an entire lap around the Quidditch field. 

I’m tired, you chant inwardly, I’m just tired. 

There’s no way your heart can be beating for someone like Kuroo Tetsurou.

◇ ◇ ◇

Kuroo is in deep shit and he knows it.

To be fair, he wouldn’t have been if not for an annoyingly stubborn Gryffindor paired with the dry sarcasm of a particular Ravenclaw that would constantly pass him subtle remarks about the indefinite amount of time he seems to be spending with a certain Hufflepuff Seeker.

“Did you tell her yet? When are you gonna tell her?! Can we be there?! Can we--” Kuroo groans and hides his face a little deeper in his arms at the breakfast table, knowing full well that reprimanding his friend will only cause the latter to double his volume. And granted, Kuroo does not want an audience, not this morning. Especially not when he is minutes away from facing you in the Quidditch field.

And as if that’s not bad enough, Tsukishima has this obnoxious smirk on his face ever since he’s joined them at the table, eating his cereal with unreasonable gusto for someone who finds eating troublesome.

"I’m surprised you figured it out this fast,” the said blonde had stated last evening as the trio sat, huddled around a makeshift magic fire in the Boy’s Prefect Bathroom. It had become their usual hiding spot over the years. 

Kuroo had opted for sipping onto his beer as he recalled the particular moment where he’d felt like he was floating on cloud nine. It had been that very morning itself where you had just gotten back your Potions test and without an ounce of hesitation, had bounded up to the Slytherin table during lunchtime, for once not minding the fact that there were a troop of Slytherins engulfing the raven-haired man on each side.

“Kuroo!” You’d shouted with such enthusiasm that your voice was almost unrecognizable, “Kuroo!” 

But Kuroo had recognized it, turning just in time to catch your excited figure in his arms. Surprise flitted over his face at your bold move but it didn’t seem like you cared at that particular moment, practically squealing while shoving your test in his face. 

“I did it! I got a B minus! That’s the best I’ve ever done in Potions so far!” you babbled in excitement, “you should’ve seen Snape’s face!” 

“Uh--that’s great, Y/N--” good lord, his hands had slipped onto your waist, right along your hip bone and his breathing stuttered at how close you were, “g--good job.”

At this point you had probably realized your compromising position but before you could scramble out, a teasing alto rung through the air:

"Got yourself a girlfriend, Tetsurou?"

Both your heads snapped at none other than Oikawa, whose eyebrows were raised in amusement, a smirk painted over his lips. You pinked as Kuroo barked out, "shut it, Oikawa."

"S--Sorry," you moved away so quickly that coldness swooped in through Kuroo's fingers, though he wished he could pull you right back.

And that, that had been like a slap in the face. Cold reality rushing through him as his heart throbbed.

Uh oh.

"Don't be such a wimp Kuroo," Bokuto'a alto brings him back to reality and Kuroo blinks, faced with none other than his best friend's grin, "where'd your confidence go now that you actually have a chance?!"

Kuroo doesn't bother replying. It's hard enough to face you without melting in a puddle of heat, how is he supposed to confess at this rate?

As the trio make their way to the Quidditch pitch, the Slytherin Beater’s eyes easily found you amidst the swarm of Green and Mustard yellow and he raised his hand up in mock salute, heart melting slightly at the shy nod you replied him with before looking away, cheeks flushed.

So cute.

“Now now, Tetsu-chan, not the time to be flirting with your girlfriend,” he feels a hand slap him on his back a little too harshly, causing him to throw a scowl at his Captain. Oikawa merely pulls out his tongue in response, before motioning him to take his place.

He forces your face out of his mind while climbing onto his broom, momentarily closing his eyes to focus on the cheerful chants coming from the bleachers. The Quaffle is thrown into the air, followed by the whistle. 

He kicks off so quickly from the ground that he’s a mere blur of silver and emerald zipping through the air, bat at the ready while his eyes dart back and forth. Kuroo spots a Bludger heading straight for one of his chasers and quickly veering off in the same direction, he swings his bat back, lunges forward--

Thwap!

The distant ache reveberates through Kuroo’s arm, but the smirk of satisfaction is obvious on his face. He proceeds onwards, forcing himself to keep his concentration on the balls so that his thoughts aren’t invaded by your presence, by the way you smile, or the blush on your cheeks--

Focus! He shakes his head. He swears he could use a good bashing on the head. He’ll never hear the end of it with Oikawa if he doesn’t do his job right.

A yell tears through the pitch.

“Watch out!” 

Kuroo’s head whips around on instinct. He doesn’t even have time to react as he spots the Bludger flying from the other end of the pitch and heading straight towards--

You. 

No. Blood drains from Kuroo’s face. He doesn’t think, doesn’t even second-guess his movements. He pushes forward onto his broom against his protesting muscles, against the voices that shout out his name in protest as the entire pitch turns into a cacophony of horrified yells and cries to get out of the way, get out of the way before--

A sickening crunch is heard and horror strikes him straight in the chest the moment he sees your body crumble, lips parting in a silent scream. 

Kuroo’s heart shatters into a million pieces.

◇ ◇ ◇

Warm.

It’s so warm. You don’t feel like waking up. But instinct kicks in and you groan, an echo of pain jogging through every muscle in your body. It feels like you’ve just been run over by a truck and forcing your eyelids to peel open against the drowsiness, it takes a few seconds for you to register that this isn’t your room. 

Fresh laundry sheets, the sound of disinfectant in the air...This is no doubt the Hospital Wing.

You try to sit up but a muffled groan echoes through your throat when pain flares up on your right side. Jesus christ, you did really get run over by a truck. 

That’s when your gaze suddenly falls upon a mop of dark raven hair, feel the warmth of a calloused palm holding onto your free hand. 

And suddenly, you’re wide awake.

With the dark emerald cape hanging off his back and with his tousled bird’s nest of hair, it’s almost shockingly obvious that this is Kuroo. His face is currently buried in his other arm, which gives you the courage to reach out to gently rest your hand upon his head.

As if sensing your movements, the said raven-haired Slytherin lets out a soft groan of his own. Your hand instantly whips away and you watch, with a mixture of confusion and surprise, as his golden orbs blink away the sleep before they slowly come to focus. 

His breath hitches as you murmur out, “hey?” 

"Y--You’re awake?” He murmurs so low you barely make sense of his words, and before you can respond, the man has grabbed hold of your hands before bringing them to his lips, “Jesus christ, Y/N, I--I seriously thought--”

Your pulse only quickens, heart tugging with emotion when you catch sight of the wetness in Kuroo’s golden orbs. What? 

What is going on?

This Kuroo is not the one you are used to, looking like he’s unraveling at your very feet. In any normal circumstances, you would’ve definitely taken this advantage to tease him mercilessly, but that’s clearly impossible. You can’t do that to him, not when he’s gazing down at you like you’re worth a thousand paintings.

The thought makes your heart quiver in your chest. Warmth curls through your stomach.

“What...” you rasp out, “happened?”

“A bludger. Came out of nowhere. Headmaster thinks it got tweaked somehow, some stupid prank,” he is searching your eyes, reading your facial expressions like he’s worried you might drop dead any second. 

“Kuroo," you call him gently, “I’m fine.” 

And to your utmost surprise, the raven-haired Slytherin’s eyes flutter towards your hands, lips peppering a rain of kisses along your knuckles. They leave a trail of heat that causes your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, “Wha--”

“I thought I'd lost you, Y/N. Don't--" his voice chokes up, gaze running up to lock with yours, "don't ever scare me lile that. Fuck, kitten, what would I have done--"

Your own breath hitches. Your eyes grow wide.

Kuroo seems to realize the same thing, hand slapping over his mouth in shock.

"What--" you splutter out. Suddenly, all your pain is forgotten, "did you call me?"

Kuroo swallows thickly as the silence settles between you two.

Then, he breaths in slow and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them back to lock eyes with yours.

What swims in his golden feline pupils makes your breath catch.

"I like you," he murmurs, "I've liked you for a while but was too much of a coward to say it. And I guess-- seeing you so hurt scared me. I don't think I've ever been so scared before."

Your skin is basically burning at this point, a volcano of feelings bursting inside you that makes you want to crawl into a hole and hide there forever. But Kuroo's eyes, despite having the slightest tinge of blush littering his cheeks, is still latched onto your features. Unwavering, probing. Questioning.

He likes you.

He likes you.

"You mean--like? As a--"

"More than a friend," he simply says.

Your mouth opens into a small silent Oh.

You don't know what to say. What to do.

Because in truth, if you really have to be honest with yourself, your heart definitely beats for this particular Slytherin. For god knows whatever reason, he’s been on your mind and in your heart for a few weeks now. 

You wish to say something. Anything. But your throat is dry. You cough it out, swallow and slowly let out a soft breath before your orbs slowly flutter to your lap, to your hands that Kuroo has grasped so tenderly in his hold.

“The feeling--” you gulp back your pride, “the feeling is mutual, I guess.” 

You don’t have to look at Kuroo to know that there’s a huge grin that blossoms across his face and not even a second later you’re rewarded another rain of kisses upon your knuckles. Gasping slightly at his boldness, his grin mellows out into that teasing smirk you know so well, though it does bring about a few butterflies roaming through your stomach.

“Ooh, mutual now is it?” Kuroo’s smirk broadens like a cat about to go for a chase and you squirm in your bed, hating how quickly the tables have turned, “weren’t you the one blushing like an idiot just a few seconds ago?!” you splutter out as a miserable defence.

He merely cackles though, leaning in so close that you yelp, “remember about my condition for tutoring you?” 

He’s so close that your noses bump into each other. It doesn’t help your heart from running an erratic race inside your chest.

You scramble for coherence, “w--what about it?”

“I figured out what it is.” 

"What?” 

You try -- and fail -- to lean away when Kuroo’s hand slips up to cradle the side of your cheek, and your body reacts like wildfire, troops of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his tender caress.

“Let me kiss you?” Kuroo mumbles out with a hoarse alto, so hoarse it makes you shiver and your toes to curl in delight, spurred on by the words that have just left his mouth.

Gold pupils meet yours. Then, your head dips into a shy nod.

Kuroo’s mouth is warm, and soft, and pleasant. He kisses you slowly, gently, like he’s afraid you’d run away if he pressed on too quickly. You’re not used to it, but you feel like it can grow on you. The way your body relaxes into the kiss has the raven-haired man more confident. His thumb traces your cheek while he slants his head a little more to capture your bottom lips with his own, sucking slightly. 

You gasp at the sensation and he smirks -- just barely -- and proceeds to kiss you a little deeper. Deep enough, firmly enough that you can’t help the whimper that escapes you.

“Cute,” Kuroo mumbles against your lips, retracting so that you can breathe. You haven’t realised up until now, that your hands have made their way to the back of Kuroo’s cloak to tug him closer, or how the said man is literally half-sprawled across your hospital bed. 

That is, until you hear a certain voice shout out:

“Oya Oya! What do I see here?!” 

[laboflove]

Megumi x FR

•Megumi aged up•

Megumi X Cheerleader

❗Warnings❗{Smut, degradation, hard dom, dacryphilia, spanking, drinking}

A/N: Megumi thinks you're pretty much an airhead since you're a cheerleader so he tries to take advantage of that but ends up falling for you

Your body drops letting him see those tight safety shorts all the cheerleaders wore, it's like you were all made for slutty clothes. It was pretty hot but for some reason he never looked at the other girls, only at you. It was probably because you werent like the others, you were so naive, so innocent and such an airhead. It was fun teasing you, making fun of you for getting simple answers wrong and tugging at your skirt even though you hated it.

"Megumi" he looks up seeing your bright eyes and large smile, "Hey" he says with a nod as you sit down in front of him, "so whatre you doing here?" You ask while opening a bottle of water. "You left this at class" he shows you a white book covered in stickers making you blush beet red. "G-give it!" You rush to grab it but he pulls it back, wrapping his arm around your waist.

So close! Megumi was super good looking! One of the hottest guys at the campus in fact but this wasnt important. "Give it Megumi" you say but he doesnt, only holding you down with a smirk. "I was being nice but now I'm kinda curious" and worry fills your mind. "D-dont" you say but he opens it and looks through the pages.

"What's this?" He asks as he looks through the pages filled with notes and drawings of buildings with measurements, but arent you in arts? He notices you looking away, you gave up? That's weird, you never gave up. "Dont worry about it, its nothing" you say while taking the book back and grabbing your stuff. "See you later" you leave making him shocked, so personal things like that make you pissed? How fun.

"C'mon" his fingers graze against your thigh making you curl up, "Leave me alone" you whisper, your hand pressing against his chest. "Why? You're always flirting with Megumi so why cant I?", "I-I dont flirt with him" you mutter feeling your blood boil. You talked to Megumi yeah, but it was because he was always being a dick or when you needed help with assignments but that was it. "Hey" both of your heads turn and the guy is sent flying across the hall.

"M-megumi" he looks at you with a look hes never given before, worry, "Are you okay?" He asks in a softer voice too. Is he okay? "I'm fine" you whisper, fixing your bag and taking your sweater out of it to wrap around your waist. "What the fuck Megumi" he hears from on the ground, "I may be a douchebag but I'd never touch a girl if she didnt want it" he says then grabs your wrist, pulling you down the hallway. Uh oh.

"You're so fucking stupid" he says as he pushes you into an empty classroom, "So fucking naive and you cant even stick up for yourself" you look down at the floor but he tilts your face up, grabbing your cheeks hard to make you look into his eyes. "When something like that happens do anything to stop it, because if you dont, bad shit will happen and I'm not alw-" he stops but you both know the end of that sentence making you blush a soft pink.

"I'm sorry" you whisper and as your phone buzzes you pull away, "Thank you, if you're still here by six maybe I can take you to eat somewhere" you leave in a rush as he looks at his hand. Hes getting too close, way too close.

You dance to the blaring music, holding a plastic red cup in your hand filled with who knows what. He watches your body move, holding a bottle of beer and listening to Yuji ramble about girls and which ones hed like to sleep with but it was Yuji, he never got any girls unless Sukuna was taking over his body.

"But my first one would have to be Y/N, I mean just look at her, shes got an amazing body and I'd love to hear her scream my name" he clenches the bottle tight feeling his anger build up, almost overflowing but he calms himself down. "Eh, shes not that special, total airhead" he says then leaves to a different room, Yuji could do whatever he wanted, it didn't matter because he didnt like you that way and never would.

He watches as he walks up to you and suddenly hes walking towards you as well. Your eyes glance back slightly shocked as arms slowly wrap around you but your widened eyes soften. "Megumi" he smiles hearing his name come out of your mouth, "Hey Beautiful" and you blush, you've been told it often but the way he said it sounded so meaningful and honestly it was the first time you've ever liked being told it.

Time passes as you both dance and talk, giggles filling whatever silence there is and soon enough you and him are drunk, muttering things into each others ears, sitting on his lap, his hands holding your skirt down to make sure no one sees anything and your arms wrapped around his neck. "Why're you so pretty?" He whispers as he leans into your lips, barely touching them making you slightly mad. You wanted to kiss him but he wouldnt get close enough, wouldnt let you get close enough too and you could feel your need building up.

"You want to kiss me?" he whispers into your ear and you drunkenly nod with a small giggle. "So drunk arent you" you lean into his lips but he stops you, "Gimme a kiss" you mumble but he shakes his head.

"Sorry Princess but you're incredibly drunk and I cant just do that to you" he says, trying to make you feel better but all you do is grumble and whine. You were worked up, he had a massive boner and it got you horny too and all you wanted was to please him.

"Your place or mine?" He asks after some time of walking but finds you asleep, "I guess mine" he says then heads to his.

You nuzzle into his chest as his arms wrap around your body, "Megumi" he looks down but you're still asleep making him smile. You looked so peaceful but the shared smell of liquor was making it less comforting. Maybe he should wake you, it wouldnt be good to sleep like this. But then again you didnt have any clothes and you needed to sleep.

You turn around and his slightly intoxicated self heightens the feeling of you pressed right up against him. He whispers your name into your ear, making your eyes open slightly, "Hm" you hum out, you start sobering up and he whispers something into your ear making you turn red.

"P-pervert" he chuckles as his hand rub your side, you were soft but goosebumps were forming which was cute. So shy and so innocent now that you're sobering up. His eyes close again feeling sleep take over him but your grinding against his crotch keeps him from it. "Stop it" he says but you dont, "Play with me" you mumble and as his hand runs up your body you expect him to tilt your face to kiss you but instead his hand wraps around your neck, grabbing it with a bit of force eliciting a gasp from you.

"Take your clothes off, say Red to stop" he mutters in a lower tone and you nod fast, he sounded irritated and you didnt want to make him angry. Once your clothes are off you look back, turning red, seeing him naked as well with only his hipbone and down covered. He smirks seeing your eyes take in the sight, you knew he worked out but you didnt know he was this strong.

"Want a kiss now?" You nod fast as your eyes shine and he smiles, "Take it then" you rush to kiss him making him chuckle at your eagerness, he pulls you onto his lap, looking up at you slightly as his hands rest on your backside, grinding you against him slowly. Tiny, soft moans escape your mouth feeling his hardness rub between your folds, "Megumi" you whine out into his neck.

"I have con-", "No, want you" his mouth goes dry and he lifts you slightly, "You want me?" He asks earning fast nods. "Like this?" A gasp fills the room as he pushes in a single finger, "N-no, want you" he chuckles against your neck thinking of endless ways to tease you but the main thing he wants is for you to beg so, he doesnt remove his finger, he pushes it in and out slowly, not doing anything only making you angry.

"Please" he leans into your ear and bites it slightly, "What do you want?" You shake your head earning a spank. "Tell me" he says but you shake your head again earning another one making you hiss and whine. "Please Megu- ah!" You cover your mouth as he delivers another spank but it's harder this time.

The process goes on, him asking to barely receive an answer and none are what he wants, he sighs then pulls your hair back as you softly cry, "One last chance" he growls out slightly, "Y-your cock, please" he pulls you down onto him making you whine and sob into his neck.

"Such a naughty girl arent you?" He asks as he guides you on him, you felt like actual Heaven, your insides were nice and tight, warm and you were sucking him in so nicely. You nod as tears fall down your face making him twitch, "Fuck me, you're so perfect" he growls into your ear, insults coming after of him telling you how needy you were, that you were just a hole to him, a cumdump, something to use making more tears fall down your face but you loved it, something about being put down like this made it feel so good.

You move your hips to his movements feeling yourself about to break and as it's about to crash he keeps you still. "Try to come without me again and I wont be very nice", "Sorry" you whisper, leaning into him more, feeling soft, mushy and needy.

You both go again and the insults slowly turn into compliments, he moans as you clench around him and you whimper, "Come" he says and your body shakes, immediately at his demand. He thrusts up into you hard making you sob out into the room, "Shh Baby, I've got you" he whispers, hands rubbing your back, pulling you as close as possible and leaving soft kisses on your head.

"So perfect for me, such a good girl. Everything I said isnt true, okay?" You nod with soft cries and he kisses you softly, too rough for the first time and definitely not the right time but you were both definitely sober by now. "I love you" he suddenly says making you stop crying, "I love you too" and he stands. He always said hed never date, especially with someone like you but here he is, confessing his love for you and needing you more than ever.

[occult-castiel]

The Same Page

This is my @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @eclypseaf!!! The request was open, but bonus points for Miracle being present. So I wrote some post empty rescue fic!

This one honestly gave me a really hard time and I have no idea why. I hope you like it and have has an awesome christmas!

[Ao3 Link]

The portal spits them out in the dungeon.

Dean stumbles out first, a half step ahead of Cas. Human, malleable, and very much alive with one of the little dude's arms draped over Dean's shoulder.

Cas stumbles forward. Dean shoots an arm out in front of him, places a hand firmly against his chest. He maneuvers his other arms under his trenchcoat, grips his side firm.

His skins almost cool to the touch — much too cold to be safe. Not for a human, especially a brand new one.

And what if he's sick? Or gets sick and can't get better? Without his grace, there's a whole new set of worries. A bad flu that gets worse until he's gone, a hunt going wrong, fucking cancer. Heart disease kills pretty much everyone, doesn't it?

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the gentle thud of Cas' heart against his palm.

The last eight months haven't been easy. Not between the alcohol Sam eventually cut him off from, and the hunts getting sparse, and Jack being terrifying and gone until he wasn't.

Cas lulls his head to the side. His inky heart sticks to his forehead, and his blueberry-sweet eyes are unfocused but still manage to catch Dean's.

It's achingly familiar, and he smiles easy. "Hey there, sunshine."

Cas pinches his brows together as his head swims to stay upright. He slurs through some half-baked, nonsense question about coral reef bleaching, and Dean's so relieved he laughs.

Cas smiles at the sound, dazed and feather-light, but the joy is unmistakable.

It's the best thing Dean's ever seen. Fuck, he missed him. Missed him so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Cas winces — what little help he was giving Dean in holding him up falls. He makes up the difference quick. Weak fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Sorry —"

"S'okay. Gonna —" he swallows hard. Tries to shove away the distinct pin-prick in his tear ducts that always means he needs to man the hell up. "Gonna get you to a bed, okay?"

Cas grunts, a pitiful noise that's mostly air and entirely feeble. "Tired."

"Rest then. It ain't far. I gotcha, buddy."

When he nods, his hair brushes Dean's neck.

It's not well thought out. The lack of work and overload of carbs haven't done Dean's muscles any favors. His joints creak and protest every step, but his room isn't far, and he'd be damned before he let's Cas feel like he has to do anything alone this time.

Miracle hops off the bed the moment the door opens.

Dean lays Cas on top of the bunched up blanket. Once he's down, Dean slowly works the trencoast and suit jacket off, his hands careful as they trail across the thin cotton of his shirt.

Cas shivers, and Dean wrestles to tug the blanket out from under him, Miracle nuzzling the side of his leg the whole time.

She's probably hungry. Or just wants attention. He hasn't exactly been available the last couple weeks, too busy with his nose in piles of research. But it all payed off.

Cas grimaces in his sleep, and it twists the cords in Dean's chest. He reaches his hand out and ghosts his fingers across the sweat-stained hair stuck to his skin, gently pushing it to the side.

He'd said it once, not more than a month ago, in the darkness of his room, Miracle tucked as close as he could get her.

He said he loved me, and I — I didn't say it back. But I do. God I do.

Dean trails his hand from his forehead to the flushed pillow of his cheeks. The other knuckles roughly at his eyes and comes back wet.

He has no god damn idea what he wouldve done without Miracle to talk to. Cause he could never get it out to Sam. Not those last moments. Not what Cas really means to him. Always too close to an edge of something larger than any apocalypse they've ever dealt with.

He traces down low enough to brush across Cas' wrist, the pained look still on his face.

Dean swallows, his heart hammers hard in his throat. Timid even though the guy is unconscious, Dean grabs his hand.

His mind blanks. Turns to complete static — a jumble of half-formed thoughts about every reason he ever told himself not to.

He's an angel. The worlds ending. Always ending. He doesn't feel that way. Can't, the equipment for it's not there. It's why he leaves, isn't it? And what the fuck could ever hope to start when it's all always falling apart? When they could fall apart.

Everyone leaves.

A flash of cold prickles down his back, and he tries to takes a deep breath. It goes down ragged. There was something he read once, about picking out a sense.

Cas' breath, slow and steady. The clink of Mircale's claws on the floor. A muted buzz from the florescent lights in the hall.

He breaths again, a little easier. His fingers curls into Cas' palm, and his finger twitch against Dean in response. The dent in his brows relax, his jaw goes slack.

"S'okay Cas." He squeezes. "Just... be okay."

When his phone rings, dumped and forgotten on the other side of the room, he isn't quite sure how to let go. Like the ligaments in his hand have cemented in place, forgotten the muscle memory to make the movements happen.

When the second call comes through, Cas mumbles something. Dean's shoulder slack, and he pulls his hands back, clammy and with a slight tremor.

It's Sam. There's a small tug of guilt — he should've called him the moment he put Cas down. He knows he would've been worried sick if Sam was the one that had to go.

Sam's relieved too, promises to buy stuff for dinner on his way back from where Dean went in the Empty about fifty miles out. And he must hear something in his voice, because he stresses to go watch a movie or something and let Cas sleep it off.

Of course he's right. They knew Cas would be out cold. But leaving the room is still hard, and he lingers in the doorway until he gets a good look at Miracle's mess of tangled fur.

He hasn't brushed her hair, since that's practically what the fur is, in weeks.

"C'mon girl."

He grabs the brush from the bedside table, casts on last look at Cas, and takes Miracle to the TV room.

She hops on the couch next to him, tail thumping with excitement.

"You wanna get pretty to meet Cas later?"

She nuzzles his hand, sticks her nose against the brush, and a little bit of the stress from today lightens up.

He flips on some netflix show about baking food, and talks to Miracle as he starts in on her snout.

It's ritualistic to touch on whatevers going on with her, at this point.

As her fur smooths, he tells her about the Empty. Its piss-poor lighting, the mind boggling way directions work, how it has this awful burnt-licorice and gasoline stench clung to the nothingness of its everything.

It kinda makes his head hurt.

Almost two full episodes in, he has all her fur neat and tidy, and his little monologue has circled back to Cas. She'd know a lot about him if she could talk.

"It's hard to believe he's really back. And — and maybe it'll be good. We could, I dunno, get you a yard?" He nods, smiles. "Yeah, I bet your spoiled ass would like that. The bunker ain't a place for pets."

Miracle leaps from the couch, and someone clears their throat from the door.

Cas stands in the doorway, hunched in on himself. Dark strands of hair twist up in random directions, and the casual clothes Dean left him fit snugly.

He looks... comfortable. Like he slipped into humanity ages ago, not this afternoon.

"Cas."

He tilts his lips up, tight and sheepish. "I see you have a dog now."

"Yeah. Miracle. She uh — she helped me." He motions vaguely to his head. "Might not be batting a hundred up here if not for her."

Cas glances down at her, and the tense smile softens. "I'm very grateful then."

Almost reverent, he scratches the side of her ear.

Dean shakes his head. Blinks. Two things he never thought he'd see side by side mixed with the insanity of the day make none of this seem real.

Deep breath.

"She can — she can be there for you too," Dean says. "If you need it. Dogs are great listeners. Even the Madonna types like this one."

Cas gives a contemplative hum. "They are both blonde."

He puffs a breath of air. It's easy to forget Cas actually knows what he's talking about now, sometimes. Even if he does still miss the point by a mile.

"It was your turn."

Cas raises an eyebrow.

"To, uh, pick a movie." He motions to the seat next to him. "If you want."

Cas runs his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn't look at Dean. Doesn't say anything either. Just nods, walks over, and sinks into the couch.

It's a respectable distance. Close enough Dean would be able to sense him, far enough away they won't touch.

Miracle curls up on the other side of Cas, head flopped on his lap, right next to his balled up hands.

"Is it over?" His voice is small.

Dean doesn't have to ask. "Chuck isn't aproblem anymore." Cas sighs, slinks down bonelessly into the cushions. "We figured it out, took his powers. Jack's fixing up Heaven with it. Says he's gunna do that, find a way to put Amara back together, and then come home."

"Good. I don't think I'm up to fighting standards." He rolls his head to the side. They're close enough Dean can make out each muscle in his neck when he swallows. "You didn't have to save me, Dean. I'd — made peace with that fate."

It's bullshit. It's bullshit and Cas has to know it. He almost tells him a much, but if he can't have that talk now, then he never will.

He licks his lips. It doesn't help the dryness.

"Did you mean it?"

It's a dumb question, but one he needs answered.

Cas doesn't miss a beat. "That and more." The serenity in his words is endearing as it is cutting when he adds, "But we don't have to address it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It's Dean's turn to melt with relief. "Good — that's good."

Cas winces. "I understand if you'd like some space —"

He starts to stand up, and panic seizes Dean's chest like a vice grip. He grabs his wrist and Cas freezes.

"No! God no. Cas, it — it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He looks confused, before some amount of understanding smoothes out some of the worried lines in his face. His eyes flick down to Dean's mouth for an instant. "How was it supposed to happen, then?"

"I thought, maybe on a hunt? Or — I don't know. Just... " some place I could say it back.

Its not good enough, saying it without saying it. Cas gave a speech. He saved Dean's life, saved the god damn world. All without knowing.

He shakes his head. Starts again. He had enough practice between thoughts he couldn't shove away and late night pet-therapy. "I thought you knew. Hell, I've been scared everyone knows. And if they did, you did too, right?"

"Subtly isn't always my strongest suit."

He laughs, and it's almost on the wrong side of sane. "Don't I know it."

He can do direct.

Slow enough that Cas has time to pull back, he runs his hand up his arm, cradles it against the back of Cas' neck. He leans across the small distance and kisses him.

It's clumsy and unsure, and Cas places a skittish hand on Dean's side like he's not sure what he's allowed to have even now, but their lips mesh together in a way that feels better than anything he can remember.

When they part, he's not sure either one of them are breathing. And he can't look at Cas, not when he says it. Not yet. So he presses their foreheads together, keeps his eyes fully lidded.

"I don't know how you could think you aren't worth saving. You — you're it for me."

"Dean —"

He shakes his head, and the tips of their noses brush. "I love you more than I know what to do with. You know that right?"

Bewildered, Cas says, "I didn't."

"Yean, well. Now you do."

He scoots back in place, flushed firm against the cushion. Their hands tangle together, and their knees are touching, and it's too much and not enough. But mostly not enough. Dean dares a glance over. Cas is staring at their hands, a pleased smile on his face.

And they're on the same page.

"I think you said something about a yard when I walked in?"

Instead of answering he says, "We should retire. I'm too old for this shit."

"Entirely?"

Dean shrugs. "A hunt here and there wouldn't hurt I guess."

"We'll talk about it later." He reaches over him, grabs the remote. "I think you said it was my turn?"

Dean grins, full and toothy. "Yeah, just no more romcoms, dude. I can only take so many."

Cas nods, curt and serious. "Of course."

He does anyway, and it's the best shitty movie Dean's ever seen.

[crystal-moon-101]

Managed to do another redesign with rewrite notes, this time my second favourite character in Ben 10, Azmuth The First Thinker. And just like Ben, he's canon self is such a mess that I wish to fix in my own way. The other Galvans in this picture are his family, with his father from the movie "Destroy All Aliens", his nephews mentioned by DJW, and their mother who is Azmuth's twin sister. So let me get into the notes and rewrite ideas of mine!

-Retaliator-

Yes, I am aware that this is most likely not his name, but I could not be bothered to make up my own at this point, and I also find it funny to have a Galvan dad called this, so I'm sticking with it. So Retaliator is the father of both Azmuth and Divi, a very humble and calm old galvan, who has seen a lot through his years, now retired and mostly just trying to keep the family together through small things.

Retaliator has the rare gene of having aqua/turquoise eyes, a recessive trait in galvans, similar to human with the red hair gene.

Retaliator looks younger than he should be, and that's because he is, in a way. You see, right before Azmuth vanished to start working on the watch, Retaliator fell ill to an disease with no known cure, and this caused the family to...kind of break down. A lot had happen up to this point (Things that will be noted throughout this), and none of them wanted things to end like this. So Azmuth did something he know he shouldn't have, as such a thing takes so much time and resource, and generally frowned upon, and ended up creating a new young clone body for his father's brains to be transferred too. By the time Retaliator woke up from surgery, his son was already gone, off in hiding. It this was event that really made Retaliator realize he may not have been the best father for a long time...

While he is retired now, Retaliator use to do work based around energy stuff.

Since he's family's back together, he likes to host game or movie nights, or even little dinners and get togethers.

He adores his grandsons, and loves to share stories from his past to them, and he's one of the few people they calm down around.

He will admit that he did...go a bit wild when he thought Azmuth died, fighting Ben in the Galvanic Mechamorph suit, but him and Ben have since made up, and the old galvan likes talking to the young lad often.

He has most defiantly embarrassed both of his kids by showing off baby photos of them.

He met his wife through work, like most galvans, with her being a much higher up worker. Surprisingly, despite their statuses, it was his wife who asked him out first, having found him very charming.

Retaliator can never thank Ben enough for convincing his son to come home, and despite their bickering, he enjoys seeing Azmuth's bond with Ben, as the two have a way of balancing each other out.

While he may be in a younger body, his mind is certainly still that of an old galvan, and can often act like his body is older than it really is due to the mental age of his brain.

-Azmuth-

Ahhhh, dear old Azmuth, how I love your character concept, and yet get so frustrated with your actual canon self...There is a lot I have changed in terms of his placement and behavior on the show, and while I can't note all of them down there, the major theme behind them is that he is not a complete jerk in them. Don't get me wrong, Azmuth would still have flaws and issues with his off-standing nature, but he would act in a way that feels more natural, showing his growth and change while mentoring Ben. He genuinely wants to help and is a good person, it's just...he still has a lot to work through. In terms of his slight redesign, I'll like to mention that if you look closely, his outfit is a mixture of his first original outside, crossed with his UAF outfit.

I did mention that I couldn't note all changes of him in series plots, since most boil down to be him being nicer and more realistic, but I will note one change because it's big enough to mention. For the Diagon/Forever Knight Arc, Azmuth did not create Ascalon, because I while I get he's smart and created things like the Omnitrix, I don't think he should be such a big source of dangerous artifacts in the series so often, especially ones that cause trouble. So instead, Ascalon was a weapon crafted in Ledgerdomain, to help fight Diagon who orientated there, and at the time had been trying to conquer earth, and Zenith leaving Azmuth happened because of miscommunication and issues between them instead.

That being said, Azmuth does get involved in the Ultimate Alien Diagon arc when Ben himself calls Azmuth over, needing his help knowing he can better understand Ascalon, and eventually entrusted Azmuth and the Galvans to keep it and the trapped Diagon safe.

Azmuth and his sister had a very rebellious phase as teenagers/young adults, this being the age that Azmuth said he was a lot like Ben, though admittedly, Azmuth was slightly more of an ass than Ben ever was. They were going through a tough time, and Azmuth reacted negatively too it all. Funnily enough, the one thing that seems to make him doo a 180 degrees in personality was his massive swooning crush over Zenith.

He won't ever admit out loud, but he does find Ben's trait of nicknaming his aliens kind of funny...

He shares a mentoring role towards Ben with Grandpa Max and Tetrax, with Max handling the more emotional and human side of Ben's problems, Tetrax handling the physical training and teachings, and Azmuth handling the more logical steps and hard truth Ben needs to hear. He's one of the few people to give Ben the smack of reality he needs from time to time.

That being said, Ben is also one of the few people able to handle Azmuth right back, and give him needed talkings to when the man is losing himself to a bad habit.

Mostly due to the fact that Tennysons seem to have a habit of making people very close to them like family, E.g with Ben seeing Kevin and Rook like brother figures at times, there seems to be subtle hints between Azmuth and Ben that there might be parent and child like moments between them, though both would deny it if brought up.

It doesn't help that Azmuth ends up taking it upon himself on making sure Ben is healthy and happy, based on scans from the Omnitrix he reads daily. Of course, he'll just say he doesn't want the boy he entrusted his watch with to die in a stupid way, but people close to either of them know that Azmuth really does care deep down.

He has said both "I'm too old for this" and "I'm too young for this" many times.

Azmuth has admitted that he's nervous around the Omnitrix, and doesn't like putting it on. He's not good at handling the idea of becoming something he's not...

The Malware arc for Azmuth was...a lot more complicated than canon. Azmuth really did try to fix Malware, but for some reason he couldn't, and it scared him that one, this might be the first problem he can't find a solution too, and second, he just came back from hiding and had been wanting to make changes in his life, so to fail and hurt someone already? He didn't know what to think. It didn't help when Malware started refusing his help and ended up endangering the lives of others, including galvans and Azmuth's own family. And despite it all, Azmuth kept trying over and over again to let him help Malware, but the villain always refused, until Azmuth eventually had to accept that he couldn't do anything. When Malware was finally killed, Azmuth went quiet for a good while, and needed time to recover from his mistake.

Due to some past issues, Azmuth mostly refers to his father by his real name, and only calls him dad or father during emotional or quiet moments.

Whenever they're hanging out, Ben likes to bring him and Azmuth cricket smoothies to drink together.

Despite how they seem to bicker often, Myaxx and him play off each other rather well, able to dry wit each other every day.

Azmuth and Albedo's relationship is also very complicated. Before Azmuth returned, Albedo was an outstanding Galvan and protégé, being praised every single day. This, unfortunately, made Albedo develop a prideful nature and his close minded views on the galaxy, as he rarely was ever put down or critiqued. His ego also got a bit of a boost when the great Azmuth took notice of him, and made him his assistant, and while he loved it at first, some issues started to arise when Azmuth wasn't like the other Galvans who praised Albedo to no end. That isn't to say Azmuth never complimented him and liked his work, but he was an honest man who knew no one was perfect, and especially wasn't going to worship someone, knowing what kind of ego that could make in someone. It doesn't help that Albedo just can't understand what Azmuth sees in Ben, and how the two bond, despite Ben's young careless nature, and being human. It ends up making Albedo want a lot more from Azmuth, the man he looks up too, and when he's denied that he eventually turns his back on the First Thinker. Azmuth can only hope that being able to turn into other aliens, and being stuck as human, will teach Albedo that Galvans, including himself, aren't what make the galaxy function.

Azmuth is typically one of the must unfazed people you'll ever meet.

Given most Galvans have an issue of seeing themselves as the top race, Azmuth is kind of fond of Blukic and Driba for being very open and helpful to outsiders, and was even the one to suggest them to join the Plumbers.

Zenith and Azmuth too meet up again eventually, and while they don't get back together, they do make amends.

Azmuth was fairly small for a Galvan for a long time, until he finally hit his growth spurt late into his teen years, something his sister use to tease him over.

Greymatter's DNA mostly comes from Azmuth, meaning Ben actually looks like a Azmuth when he was young, his family having made comments about Ben being his "Clone".

-Divi-

Here we have the twin sister of Azmuth, Divi. A dry wit, no nonsense, sarcastic and feisty single mother of her three chaotic sons. Unlike Azmuth's father and nephews, she was something I had to completely make up from the spot, since Azmuth was said to have nephews, that meant he had to have a sibling, so it was fun to create someone with an interesting dynamic with Azmuth. She is, after all, one of the few people to exhibit some of those petty family squabbles out of him. So I hope you enjoy her and her sons.

As mentioned before, Azmuth and her went through rebellious phases after some downfall in their family life, with Divi jumping around jobs and never settling for one, and even dating another Galvan that neither Azmuth or Retaliator approved off. When Azmuth first left Galvan Prime to go into hiding, Divi and her boyfriend had still been dating. However, when he finally came home, he found the boyfriend to be gone, and Divi now a single mother to three sons. Azmuth never got a clear story what happened to the boyfriend, but he knows that the break up was nasty, and that the boyfriend isn't on Galvan Prime anymore.

Sometime after Divi had her children, she eventually settled for a job in the nursery/incubation centre on Galvan Prime, looking after eggs and newly hatched tadpoles before they go home with their parents.

Divi is quite a blunt and honest woman, who has no time for dragging things on, and while she may sound harsh, she ends up just wanting the best for people. In fact her open nature of speech is how she gets people to listen and see reason.

Her and Azmuth had a...bit of a dysfunctional relationship growing up. Azmuth was actually a slow learning when he was young, and Divi had a habit of picking on him. They did eventually mallow out, until tragedy struck their family and they entered their rebel phases, and the bickering and arguing come from both sides. They have made up since Azmuth returned, but the two have their squabbles here and there, but they're mostly just playful banter or family habits.

Her and Myaxx get along quite well, and the two like hanging out with each other.

She's also fond of Ben since meeting him, and the two like chatting whenever he plays with her sons, he's even babysat for her a few times.

She has no interest in dating again anytime soon, and is proud to be a single mother.

She's the one who points out Azmuth and Ben's family like roles to each other often, mostly due to the fact that she understands what a paternal feeling is like, and because she's blunt about it.

She got her wisdom feet first out of her and Azmuth growing up.

While Azmuth was off in hiding, Divi reconnected with his father when looking after to him after surgery. So, unlike Azmuth, she mostly just calls him father and dad.

-Trapez, Cieven & Aegls-

The three mischievous nephews, sons and grandsons of the family. Left to right, Trapez, Cieven & Aegls, who are the triplets of Divi. The three are like glue, and are often playing or up to little tricks, creating chaos around Galvan Prime. While they mostly look the same and are all tricksters, they do have personality differences. Trapez is the best when it comes to emotions and the phycology behind it, something most Galvans struggle with, and can come across as the kindest of the three. Cieven has a lot of traits from Divi and Azmuth, being fairly intelligent and wanting to be a lot like his uncle someday, though does have some of their sarcastic nature as well. Aegls is the most energetic of the three, hype up often and quick with crafting and thinking of ideas. When you combine all three together, you get a force of endless chaos.

Their mother has been honest to them about who their father is, and why he isn't around, but the three have grown up fine without him, and will forever be grateful for the work their mother put into caring for them.

They were born while Azmuth was away, and so have been building up hype about their missing uncle for most of their lives, enough so that when Azmuth did come back, they all tackled hugged him while he was still understanding the idea that he was now in fact an uncle.

They love Ben and the Omnitrix, roping Ben into some of their pranks and shenanigans, and while Ben mostly tries to stare them into the right direction, he can't help himself half the time and joins in on the chaos, much to Azmuth and Divi's dismay.

They do become a part of my Ben 10 Next Gen Series, given Galvans take forever to age, and will finally be young tweens when the Next Gen takes place.

The three each have different dream jobs for the future. Trapez wants to be a psychiatrist or doctor, Cieven wants to be an inventor, and Aegls was to deal with energy based matters like his grandfather once did.

Never give these kids sugar or coffee, it will end badly.

The three...had a bad encounter with Malware during his rampage, and for a while were scared around Galvanic Mechamorphs...They get over it eventually, but Malware does haunt them for a long while.

They once picked up some colourful language from Azmuth and Myaxx when overhearing them once. You can imagine how Divi took that.

-The First Thinker Family-

The traumatic event that struck the family was in fact the death of Azmuth and Divi's mother, who was killed by someone who was after Galvan Tech. The family fell apart after that, with Retaliator falling into a deep depression and being distant from his kids, and Azmuth and Divi going wild in their teen/young adult years to distract themselves from the grief. They've all come together now and have been taking the proper sets to honor her memory, and become a family again.

While no one has outright said it, Ben has kind of become part of this little family in a few ways, and after a while Azmuth stops being survived when the boy shows up for family dinners or game nights.

They all live on Galvan Prime, though Retaliator is known to take trips here and there around the galaxy, wanting to see more of it during his retirement.

On the outside, many Galvans treat the family as there wise people, who have sage advice. And while that isn't wrong, once you get to know them they're a very chaotic family...

[steves-on-a-plane]

I'll Be There For You

For @star-spangled-bingo 2021

Pairing: None Cast Of Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers & Rogers Daughter!Reader Warnings: Mild swearing, bit of teenaged angst from Reader Words: 2399 Squares Filled: Dad/Daughter Dance Summary: Reader is Steve Rogers' twelve year old daughter who has been left in the care of her two "Uncles" Sam and Bucky. Reader confesses to Sam & Bucky that she feels like she plays second figure to "Captain America" on her dad's priority list. Her uncles do their best to assure her this isn't the case and of course Steve Rogers swoops in at the last minute to save the day.

You opened the window, closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. You didn’t care that the wind swirling around outside was causing small pools of water on the sill as fat droplets made their way in side. You didn’t care that the air was thick and the sky was a chalky grey. It was raining and you loved the rain. Rain was cleansing. Rain meant that old things were being washed away and new things would grow in their place. Rain was comforting.

The apartment you lived in with your father was the opposite. The building was old and every other floorboard seemed to creak or crack. The windows rattled and no matter how much the two of tried to keep things clean, there seemed to be a perpetual layer of dust that settled over everything. It was somehow stuff and drafty at the same time. You want to be outside where the rain was, not stuck inside with your two babysitters.

“[Y/N], what the hell are you doing?” Your Uncle Bucky demanded as he entered the living room. He pulled down the sash, effectively closing the window and keeping the beautiful rain scents out.

“Buck, you shouldn’t say hell to kids. You shouldn’t swear at kids. Steve would have a fit if he heard you.” Uncle Same chastised as he followed into the room.

“[Y/n]’s not a kid, she’s twelve. That’s practically thirteen. She’s basically a teenager.” Bucky pointed out. “Besides it’s not like hell is a gateway swear. You think if she hears me say hell then it’s a matter of time before she moves on to some real swear like…"

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Sam interrupted. “I don’t see a scenario where that sentence doesn’t end in a word Steve is comfortable with [Y/N] hearing.”

“Uncle Sam you do know that I’ve been around Tony Stark before, right?” You asked. “And believe it or not the Avenger who swears the most is Dr. Banner.”

“That still doesn’t mean your Uncle Bucky needs to help you pick up any bad habits.” Sam then noticed the water on the windowsill dripping down onto Steve’s hardwood floor. “Where did all that water come from?”

“Little Rogers had the window open.” Bucky nodded at you. “She had half her torso sticking out a fifth floor window.” He shook his head. “I’ll go get a towel.”

“Were you really hanging out the window?” Sam asked as Bucky stepped out into the hall. He knew Uncle Bucky had the tendency to overreact. Not that he could blame the guy, you were the only kid Bucky ever spent more than five minutes with.

“No.” You answered, but the truth was you couldn’t be certain. “I don’t know, maybe.” You added.

“YES!” Bucky shouted from the linen closet, still out of sight.

“You know that’s dangerous, don’t you [Y/N]?” Sam reminded you.

“Yeah, but…” You tried to defend yourself.

“Yeah but do you think Uncle Sam or I want to have to call your Dad and tell him that you fell out the window when we were supposed to be taking care of you?” Bucky handed you the towel and motioned for you to start moping up your mess.

“Weren’t you the one who was just saying I’m practically a teenager?” You sighed. You then mumbled to yourself, “Besides, maybe if I fell out of the window he’d actually pay attention to me.” Sam and Bucky exchanged a look of confusion behind your back.

“What do you mean by that?” Sam probed. He wasn’t accusatory. His tone was soft, he waited for you to answer.

“He’s not here right now is he?” You tossed the sopping towel in your hands to the ground and turned to face them. “Lots of kids have parents who go away for work so I know I’m not that special okay? But I can’t help but wish he was home more. Even when he’s not away on missions he’s still in his office taking calls or filing reports or zoom meetings! It sucks!” You threw yourself down into a nearby armchair. You ignored the smirk from Bucky and the incredulous look from Sam as you swore. “Even when he tries to do things with me…Like last week, he wanted to take me out for ice cream. We didn’t even make it a block from the apartment before he was getting hounded for photos and autographs. I love my dad, but I hate Captain America.”

Sam and Bucky exchange another look. This time both their expressions seemed to say, “What do we do now?”

“It’s okay, you can say it.” You sighed, looking down at your feet rather than at either of them.

“Say what, Kid?” Bucky used the most affectionate nickname he could muster and he sat beside you on the couch.

“That it’s a really selfish thing to say and that Captain America does a lot of good and sharing dad with the Greater Good is a sacrifice I should be happy to make. You can’t think any worse of me then I already do.” You assured them, still not daring to make eye contact with either one of them.

“I don’t think that at all.” Bucky told you. You certainly weren’t expect that. You looked over at him. “I hate Captain America too sometimes.”

“You do?” You felt your eyebrows knit together. Uncle Bucky had been your dad’s best friend practically their entire lives.

“Of course. Steve Rogers is my best friend.” Bucky said. “But Steve Rogers is a skinny little thing who’s allergic to everything under the sun, and couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.” His description brought forward in your mind pictures you’d seen of you dad before the serum. Seeimg him like that always made you giggle. “Now Captain America, He’s a big beefy guy, he likes running and motocyles, thinks he’s so cool.” Bucky wrinkled his face in disgust. “You know what helps me, on my days when I’m really ticked off at Captain America?”

“What?” You inched a little closer to Bucky as if he were whispering a secret.

“I have to remind myself that some days, your dad hates Captain America too.” You opened your mouth to disagree, but Sam jumped in. He sat on the other end of the couch, joining the conversation.

“Remember that story you were telling us during dinner, that one friend you have…?” Sam reminded you.

“Jennifer.” You supplied.

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Remember how you said Jennifer’s mom told her that drawing is a waste of time so now even though Jennifer really loves to paint and draw she doesn’t bring her projects home from art class any more? This is kind of like that.”

“Riiight.” Bucky agreed unsure if your friend’s interest in art was the same as the point he was trying to make, but he’d give Wilson an A for effort.

“It’s the same thing.” Sam insisted. “Jennifer is comfortable sharing her art work with you, because she knows you support her. There are thinks your dad with share with us that Captain America might not share with the world.”

“Right.” Bucky nodded enthusiastically this time. “Like that magazine that published an Apple Pie recipe last month as ‘Captain America’s Signature Apple Pie.’ You and I both know your dad’s never made an apple pie in his life. He doesn’t even like apple pie that much.” You smiled again remembering the rant Uncle Bucky had gone on when he saw the magazine in the grocery store.

“You said your cat could probably make a better pie that dad.” You reminded him.

“And I still think that.” Buck assured you. “Our point, [Y/N], is that it’s okay to not be okay all of the time. It’s okay to feel like your dad and Captain America are two different people sometimes. But you have to talk about you are feeling. You have to tell your dad, Uncle Sam, me or someone else , because if you don’t you’re never going to feel better about it.”

“I mean I guess I feel a little better already.” You shrugged. “But I’m afraid to bother any one with my stuff. You guys are busy. Let me guess this is the part where you both say you’re never too busy for me?” You rolled your eyes. “Dad says that all the time, but he’s on a mission and not at the father daughter dance with me tonight. I’m sorry about the window.” You said getting to your feet. You picked up the towel from where you’d discarded it earlier.

“Father daughter dance?” Bucky mouthed to Sam behind your back. Sam shrugged in response. “Fix it!” Bucky replied.

“How?” Sam mouthed back. It was Bucky’s turn to shrug.

“I think I got most of the water.” You said, facing them again. “I’ll throw this thing in the hamper and then I think I’ll call it a night. Thanks for listening to me b-complain for a bit.” You decided not to chance swearing again in front of Uncle Sam.

“Bed?” Bucky jumped to his feet. “It’s not even five yet.” He glanced at his watch to confirm. “We should do something…”

“That’s fine, I think I just want to be alone for now. I’m sure dad will still be gone tomorrow. We can do something then.” You and your dripping wet towel started to make your way towards your bedroom.

“[Y/N], wait.” Sam also got to his feet. “Maybe Uncle Bucky and I could take you to your father daughter dance. I know it’s not the same because we’re not your dad, but other kids probably go with uncles or…”

“Jennifer’s moms are both taking her.” You smirked. “And I am the only one of my friends who wasn’t going. It could be fun.”

“What time’s the dance start?” Bucky asked. “Seven? Eight?”

“Seven, but I don’t have anything to wear. Everyone else was planning on dressing up.” You pointed out.

“If we leave now, I’m sure we can still find you something nice.” Sam suggested. “Maybe we can find a salon to do your hair.” He remembered how much his sister used to love getting her hair done special for dances when they were younger.

“What about the rain?” You bit your lip. You could tell they were really trying to make this work.

“You were about to climb out that window before I got in the room.” Bucky laughed. “I didn’t think a little rain would slow you down.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “Okay. Father-Daughter-Uncle Dance it is.”

“I’ll get my car keys. You put your shoes on and get a jacket. Last thing I need is you getting sick.” Sam instructed.

Two and a half hours later, Sam parked his car in the parking lot of your school. The dance was being held in the gymnasium. Miraculously, he had found a hair salon that was still open and willing to style your hair for the event. Apparently, a lot of parents in the neighborhood were taking their kids for cuts or styles in preparation of the big event. While you were in the salon, Bucky darted in and out of shops trying to find the right dress. He was on video chat with you or Sam the entire time and eventually the three of you settled on a pale pink dress with layers and layers of tule for the skirt. It had a shimmering silk sash that Uncle Bucky had tied into a perfect pink bow and the sleeves were flowy but not heavy. You felt like a princess.

“We’re late.” You frowned. “Do you think that matters?”

“Haven’t you ever been fashionably late before?” Bucky asked, opening the car door for you. He held a large umbrella in his hands so that neither of you would get wet. You noticed the rain had slowed down considerably since earlier.

Bucky and Sam had done their best to look put together for you. Uncle Bucky borrowed a pair of your dad’s old khaki pants and a charcoal grey button up shirt he hardly ever wore. You didn’t know where he’d found suspenders, but suspected they were your fathers too. Uncle Sam went for a more casual look wearing his cleanest pair of jeans and a maroon polo. When you entered the school gym, your homeroom teacher Mr. Jenson was selling and collecting tickets.

“Ah, [Y/N] Rogers. Who are your escorts this evening?” He asked while Sam paid for the tickets.

“These are my two Uncles.” You introduced them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.” Mr. Jenson smiled. “Enjoy the dance.”

For the most part you did. There were all sorts of desserts available. Bucky helped you taste test every single one before you both agreed the chocolate cupcakes were the best. You felt a sense of pride when one of the boys in your class tried asking Sam about his Falcon costume and he explained he was at the dance on official Uncle business. They’d have to save the Falcon talk for another time. You introduced them to all of your friends and told everyone how amazing it was that they’d put everything together so last minute for you. Both Sam and Bucky took turns making sure you got in as many dances as possible. What had started as a boring afternoon had turned into a pretty good night.

“I think I’m ready for bed.” You yawned as you sat down next to Sam. The night had begun to wind down and you were getting tired.

“One more dance and then we’ll head up.” Bucky told you.

“Uncle Bucky I don’t know if I’ve got one more dance in me.” You yawned again.

“Too tired to dance with your old man even?” A familiar voice asked from behind you. You pivoted in your seat to see your dad standing behind you. He was dressed in his best suit, your favorite navy blue one, and held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

“Dad!” You jumped to your feet and hugged him.

“You didn’t think I’d miss the chance to dance with my best girl, did ya?” You Dad asked. You took the flowers he offer you and placed them on the table between Sam and Bucky.

“Thank you.” You whispered to both of them before following your dad out to the dance floor.

[guessimwritingficsagain]

Delightful, chapter One (Javier Pena x reader)

Paring : Javier Peña x reader

Warnings : none

Author's note : I wanted to write an 'ennemies to lovers' with Frankie but he's so soft that didn't work so here we are.

------

It’s not that you hated Javier Peña (Jesus, you wondered how many women thought that very same sentence everyday).

You had met him one busy night during your first week on the job. He’d been polite, had even introduced himself and explained :

‘I’m a regular, might as well know me by name.’

He’d even asked for yours. But the moment your co-worker Carla had stepped behind the counter he had completely switched and had reduced her to a giggling mess in two minutes flat. She’d been putting a brave fight, though, she’d explained to you later. He’d been hitting on her for weeks but she’d resisted, afraid it would be a one night thing.

She had been wrong about that, because when she had finally given in, it had become a regular thing.

She had been wrong about that but had never stopped to ask herself if he’d wanted more than sex. When she’d asked him, though, she hadn’t liked the answer, not one bit. Except he hadn’t stopped coming in, even bringing some friends with him, some blonde dude who looked really American and a woman - his wife, probably.

Try moving on when the guy you wanted to get serious with keeps showing you at your workplace.

So, Carla, yeah, she’d lost ten pounds, taken the day shift, and taken to call you at three in the morning to cry (you guessed she didn’t have that many friends because you certainly weren’t friends with her but she called you anyway).

Which left you to work with Diego, and you couldn’t stand Diego.

So, maybe, you hated Javier Peña a tiny bit.

And there he was, sitting on a barstool, nursing his second whiskey. The place was mostly empty, so you couldn’t avoid noticing how he kept frowning at the liquid like there was something wrong with it. You didn’t ask, though. You always kept your interactions polite and to the point.

After a while, you felt yourself distracted by the music, your actions more a force of habit, automatisms without any real thoughts behind them. You were brought back to the present, though, when Peña asked Diego how Carla was. And Diego being Diego, answered, loud enough for you to wince :

‘Ah. Fucking awful, if you ask me. Got fucked up by some dude. Poor girl looks like shit, now. Shame because she’s fine and I’d fix her broken heart, if you know what I mean.’

Peña had the decency to look a bit remorseful but Diego, oh, Diego kept going :

‘I offered, once, but she looked down on me. Now, though ? I bet she regrets…’

You slapped him with a tablecloth and got real close into his personal space.

‘I swear if you finish that sentence I’m gonna make sure whatever’s down there can never get up again. You’re a pig, Diego. You talk that big talk but you probably can do shit in bed so stop. I don’t need to hear it.’

‘Cállate, gringa. That stick up your ass must be a real pain.’

And Peña, brave, nice, chivalrous Peña, had to speak up, of course :

‘The lady has a point. Carla was nice. Shit, she is nice. I wanted to check on her, I don’t need to hear you gloat because she wouldn’t let you get some. Use your fucking right hand if you need to, but I don’t need to hear that shit.’

Diego’s face lost all previous friendliness when he turned back to Peña.

‘Whatever, man. But you know, stepping in for the lady won’t get you to score with her.’

He stopped himself there, but you could tell that whatever was on the tip of his tongue would have been really unpleasant to hear. Diego left the counter and went to do whatever. You didn’t care.

You should have stepped away and gone back to whatever it was you were doing before but Peña was looking at you and you had to deal with stuff like that on a daily basis because Diego only ever talked about women and fucking them good and you had enough. So instead of choosing the smart option, you leaned in, hands on the counter, shoulders square, and explained :

‘I can handle myself. I don’t need you to do that, especially considering you’re the one that fucked Carla all up.’

‘Listen, I’m sorry about that…’

‘I’m not the one you should be saying that to.’

‘I don’t need to talk to her. There’s nothing to say. It was a misunderstanding.’

He looked frustrated now. And if he were somebody else - anybody else besides Diego - you’d stop giving him crap, because you got it. Sometimes, people get into things, get into sex and don’t stop thinking about the other’s expectations. The fact that Peña never took her to a fucking restaurant or shit should have been a warning in itself but he could have made himself clear from the very beginning. Could have said it was all about making his dick wet.

But he didn’t, and now you were stuck with Diego and annoying phone calls in the middle of the night. And you felt bad feeling that way about Carla, but you clearly hadn’t had time to really connect and you weren’t a free shrink.

‘If you got nothing to say to her, then don’t come around asking about her.’ You spat.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny little voice mentioned that you were being a tiny bit unfair but it was a fleeting thought that you shoved right back where it belonged : in your trashcan of denial.

Peña downed his drink, then, and got up, slapping money on the counter and said, all sarcasm but, you found, no real bite behind it :

‘Thanks for a delightful evening, my lady.’

You watched him walk away. Yeah, it wasn’t that you hated him.

———

You could see the appeal, you admitted to yourself one evening when Peña was there, sitting down with Connie and her husband and another woman.

You hadn’t gotten the other man’s name but Connie had come to you, one night, more than slightly buzzed and had chatted your ear off as you were making the drinks. You’d found her endearing so you’d asked for her name.

There was no doubt that woman was getting into Peña’s bed and you hoped she wouldn’t end up like Carla, calling someone at three in the morning to sob about him. You hoped he’d taken his lesson and was straight with the women he had encounters with.

You could see the appeal, the moustache and the too-tight jeans, and the way he slightly touched her shoulder, the way he gave her all of his attention, the way he laughed, eyes crinkled and that fucking dimple.

It was a slow night, okay ? It was a slow night and you were bored.

‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer.’

You turned to see Emil smiling at you, and you playfully swatted his arm. He was a new addition to the team - and a welcome one, at that. Turned out that Diego had gotten into the habit of fucking women in the restroom and you had the privilege to catch him, once. What would have been a traumatizing experience became much more because your boss hadn’t caught the fact that you were going to the restroom and was following you to tell you something. So you’d seen Diego into action (and that was never going in the trashcan of denial, no matter how hard you tried to shove it in there), but your boss, Ricardo, had seen too.

So, no more Diego.

You were delighted.

Even more so when Ricardo had asked you to be part of the recruiting process. You had been surprised, at first, but he’d said :

‘I have three daughters, and I have two women who work for me, I don’t need men like Diego around.’

Very progressive, all in all. But you were glad.

Back to the moment, away from the image of Diego slamming into a woman (she had been faking, you knew, and telling him that right before he left had been awesome), you quipped back :

‘I don’t even like him, trust me, I’m just bored.’

And that was only partially false. You were bored, but not liking Peña was more of a force of habit than a real thing, now. Carla had found out she was pregnant - not his - so she had quit and, well, let’s just say you didn’t get angsty phone calls in the middle of the night anymore.

Peña walked right to the counter, then, and Emil, with what you’d just said, went to get the order but Peña was looking right at you and talking to you so you went with it. As you were handing the beers, you couldn’t help but ask :

‘She knows you’re gonna fuck her into oblivion but nothing more, right ?’

His eyebrows shot up, and the smirk on his face told you you’d just said the wrong thing.

‘That confident in my abilities, heh ?’

You shook your head and deflected :

‘You know why I said that.’

He put the booze down, at that, and actually sat at the counter.

‘How’s the baby ?’

You jumped in surprise, at that, because you didn’t know he knew and you’d never thought he would care. He picked up on that, too, because he scoffed :

‘Come on, I know you think I’m an asshole but Carla was good. She was nice. I keep tabs, that’s my job.’

‘Your job ?’ You couldn’t help but ask.

He played with one of the beers, then, thumb brushing one of the bottles up and down. You looked away, not liking one bit what was happening in your belly.

‘That’s a story for another time. When you like me, or at least tolerate me. I’ll get you there.’

He got up and walked away and you remembered

You hated Javier Peña.

It didn’t sound quite genuine anymore, and you were fooling no one, given the look Emil shot your way after that, but you held onto that anyway.

———

Your parents had never approved of you moving to Colombia because your Spanish is good, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that, you don’t need to make it perfect but you needed out so you’d gone anyway.

Now, though, sitting in a room in the DEA quarters, shaking, you weren’t so sure about your life choices.

You’d been getting home when you’d seen, turning a corner, a man pointing a gun at another, on his knees. You’d backed off immediately, you stupid brain not smart enough to get you to run away. You hadn’t seen anything, but you’d heard. And that had gotten you to the DEA.

You’d been stupid, really, because you’d heard the gunshot, you’d heard a car driving away but instead of taking a detour or something, you’d looked. And the man lying there with his brain all over the pavement was not going in the trashcan of denial anytime soon.

So, you were shaking, and the door opened and you flinched and then you saw

Javier fucking Peña

‘I guess that answers that question about your job, then.’ You joked, but he didn’t bite.

He kneeled right in front of you instead, hands everywhere, and that was comforting, but the flow of questions was a bit overwhelming too.

Did they see you ? Is there a chance they saw you ? Are you hurt ? Want some water ? Murphy, give me some fucking water right now !

You tried telling him you were fine (you weren’t) but he kept fussing.

They brought you some water, you answered some questions, and at the end, the very end, when it was just Peña and you, he spat :

‘I can’t believe you go home every night on foot. Don’t do that. Stop. I swear if I have to come get you every night …’

‘I’ll be fine. It’s fine. I’ll get someone.’

You were lying : you lived stupidly close to the bar, so it didn’t make sense to drive there. And even with what had happened, it still didn’t make sense to do it. So you lied.

Then you got a few days off, doctor’s orders, and when you came back to work, that first night, as you were ready to head back home on foot as always, Javier Peña was waiting outside the bar. Before you could say anything, before you could find a way out, he declared :

‘Get in the car. I’m taking you home.’

Chapter two

[marmosa]

kisses to make it better.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none!

A/N: here’s this in the meantime while i try to crank out a longer fic. i’m not sure who to write it about yet, but it’ll probably be one of the twins. i can’t get those two off my mind, it’s impossible. pain 💔 i don’t know what else to say, my brain is like fried right now, but i hope you’re all doing well. i’m sending you lots of love and please remember to take care of yourself, you’re the best. enjoy :)

***

If you’d asked [y/n] what she’d be spending her Friday evening doing, she certainly wouldn’t have said sitting over her best friends unconscious body in the nursing wing. She might’ve guessed meeting up with him and a few friends in the common room for an excess of butterbeer and bunch of shitty games that would’ve lead to way too much personal information being dispelled, but not this.

She bounced her leg nervously, trying hard not to rock in the squeaky chair she’d been provided, glancing over her shoulder every two seconds to try and see if Madame Pomfrey had come back with a potion or a spell to fix him right up.

Of course it was expected that something catastrophic would have happened eventually, him being one of the best beaters on one of the best quidditch teams and all, but she hadn’t expected it to roll over so soon. There was certainly no doubt in her mind that he’d come to from his unconscious state, but she couldn’t do anything to quell the worry swirling around in her stomach.

“Still out?”

[y/n] glanced up from where she’d been staring holes into the ground and felt a small rush of relief when George, looking all the more clam, came striding over, “Yeah, Madame Pomfrey still hasn’t come back with anything.”

George smiled softly at her and ruffled her hair gently, pulling up a chair and sitting next to her, his knees knocking against the bedframe, “He’ll be okay y’know. Fred’s always been trooper, he’s got a skull as thick as rocks. If anything he’s probably just napping to try and scare us.”

“I know,” [y/n] giggled slightly, relaxing her shoulders, “I’m just worried is all. Sure he’s strong and stuff, but you never know. It’s bothering me that we haven’t sorted this out yet.”

“It’ll be sorted out in no time, you need to stop worrying yourself or you’ll end up in one of these bed’s just like him,” George scolded her, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“That would be nice, I could go for a nap, I studied my arse off all morning before the match and I truly feel like my head is going to explode,” she sighed, leaning her head onto George’s shoulder.

He hummed and wrapped his arm around her, squeezing her gently, “You should go to sleep then. He’ll be here or in his dormitory in the morning.”

“But I’d feel bad to leave before he was all healed,” [y/n] frowned, glancing over at Fred’s peaceful form, his chest rising and falling softly.

“Here, how about you go to sleep, I stay here until Madame gets back with something, and I’ll let you know what’s become of him by morning,” George bargained, raising his brows as if to make the offer enticing, “Deal?”

[y/n] hummed, as if to ponder the offer, “Fine, but only because I know you wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I didn’t accept.”

“You know me so well,” George smiled cheekily, squeezing her in a side hug once more as she stood up and stretched out her arms, twisting her torso side to side.

“Good night George,” [y/n] smiled, waving goodbye as she slipped away to head to bed.

***

“George told me that you’d stayed in your room for the morning because you were tired, so I brought you some breakfast because he had to go drop something off at Professor McGonagall’s, HOLY SHIT-,” [y/n] gasped, nearly dropping the napkin full of food balanced in her hand.

Fred’s head snapped upwards, popping out from under the sweater he was just about to put on as he jumped back, startled at the sudden early morning intrusion.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve knocked,” [y/n] apologized, covering her eyes the best she could with her robes, while simultaneously trying to maneuver herself inside the room to set the stuff in her arms down, “But good lord Freddie, George didn’t tell me it looked so- bad?”

“First off, why are you covering your eyes, it’s not like you haven’t spent countless summers by the lake with my family. Secondly, it’s because we know you, George said you nearly worried yourself to the bone yesterday over a small game mishap,” Fred chuckled, tossing his shirt onto his bed and walking over, pushing her arm out of her face and taking the plate out of her hands, “thanks for the breakfast by the way.”

“Well it’s not my fault you looked absolutely awful-,”

“Ouch,” Fred interjected, a teasing smile on his face as he plopped down on his bed, taking a bite out of one of the hashbrowns she’d brought.

“Okay, you know what I meant,” [y/n] rolled her eyes, lolling her head to the side with a irritated sigh, “The bruises looked absolutely awful and I was worried sick as to why Madame was taking so long. It’s not my fault she spent ages digging around in her inventory, it’s like she did it on purpose.”

“Hey, the bruises look kind of cool,” Fred mumbled, pouting slightly as she returned his look with a flat expression.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, let me see them, will you?” [y/n] muttered, shuffling over as Fred maneuvered himself around so his back was facing her.

“Holy mother of Hell, that looks raw,” [y/n] sucked in a breath, ghosting her fingers over the purple and red splotches that decorated his pale skin, “I’m going to kill that arsehole who did this to you.”

“Again, you worry too much, it’s totally fine- OW! What are you doing?” Fred yelped as she pressed her fingers against the fresh bruise, albite lightly.

“Would you quite whining, I’m trying to see something,” [y/n] snapped back, poking him in the side, chuckling when he bent away from her prying hands.

“It’s not my fault your hands are as cold as a corpse,” Fred grumbled, sucking in a shaky breath when she carefully brushed her fingertips over the wound.

“My mum used to kiss our bruises when I was little, If it was especially bad she’d bandage it, even if we didn’t need it. She used to say kisses always made it all better,” [y/n] mentioned, drawing back her hand to go grab the napkins out of her bag that she’d forgotten about.

“I think your mum’s onto something,” Fred hummed cheekily, setting the empty napkin down on his nightstand, “Maybe you should try it out, see if it works.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, ya twat,” [y/n] teased, sticking her tongue out at his puppy dog eyes, “give me one good reason as to why I should?”

“You were so worried about me, right? Well then make it better, hm?” Fred titled his head backwards, staring at her approaching figure upside-down.

“Compelling case,” [y/n] clicked her tongue, “not. Give me a better reason.”

“Because you love me?” Fred grinned, wiggling his brows.

[y/n] sighed and plopped down next to him, passing him a napkin, “that is true. A promise is a promise then?”

“Only if you want,” Fred shrugged, “you never have to do anything you’re not comfortable with when you’re with me.”

“A sweet sentiment, but I never go back on my word,” [y/n] shook her head, pressing her palms flat on his shoulders, smoothing out his posture, “And please don’t squirm around, I don’t want to get elbowed in the face.”

“No promises-oh!” He gasped quietly as she pressed a soft kiss to the biggest bruise on his shoulder blade.

“You know,” [y/n] began, pausing to press another soft kiss to a bruise slightly below the biggest one, squeezing his biceps and dragging her hands down his arms until they rested at his wrists, “My mom always told me,” another kiss, “that kisses were the best type of medicine.”

“Again, I think she might’ve been onto something,” Fred chuckled to himself, trying to fight off the heat quickly rushing to his face, his ears already starting to hue red.

“Mhm,” [y/n] hummed, continuing her ministrations, quietly pretending to heal each and every wound to the best of her ability, despite no actual change occurring at all.

She finally finished, sitting back and squeezing his wrists to let him know she was done, a small smile pulling onto her features as she eyed him up and down, finding it amusing that she’d finally gotten him to go quiet, “I think I’ve got ‘em all.”

“Actually,” Fred piped up, leaning his back onto her shoulder, “I think you missed one.”

“And where would that be?” she chuckled, reaching behind him to card her fingers through his hair, smiling softly when his eyes fluttered unconsciously at the sudden feeling.

“It’s funny you should ask, I got hit in the face, it was actually really bad, Madame fixed me up quick, but I still have a bit of a bruise on my lips,” Fred grinned cheekily.

[y/n] scoffed slightly, curling the hair at the crown of his head between her fingers, “That, Weasley, is the shittiest line you’ve ever pulled on me.”

“You love it though.” Fred hummed, reaching behind him to tap his fingers against her cheek, fiddling with a strand of hair curled up behind her ear.

“I really do,” she smiled, leaning down so her lips were ghosting over his, “Still got a bruise here?”

“Biggest one yet,” he giggled, tilting his head up so their lips finally connected in a soft, sweet kiss, their eyes fluttering shut.

When they pulled away Fred couldn’t help the massive grin plastered on his features, his teeth pulling his bottom lip between them as he stared up at her with a new sort of sparkle in his eyes, “I’m thinking I should get injured more often if this is the outcome.”

“Absolutely not, I think that kind of stress would kill me,” [y/n] shook her head, pinching the bridge of his nose gently.

“But kisses,” Fred pouted, like that negated the stress of it all.

“You’re an awful bargainer.”

“Hey, I bargained my way into a kiss!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Freddie.”

“Again, ouch.”

[waywardimpalawriter]

His boulevard of broke dreams

His boulevard of broken dreams

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Lisa Braeden, Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Lisa Braeden, Ben Braeden

Setting: A few days before Dean’s attacked by the Djinn

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: angst, feelings,  

Word count: 2,979 (with lyrics)

Summary: Just a simple watch and report, till the man under surveillance reminds you who taught you everything you know.  

Notes: Sequel to “Her” also written for #decadeundertheinfluencechallenge the song I choose is Boulevard of Broken dreams by Green Day. “My shadow’s the only one that walk’s beside me. My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating.”

Tag list is open for all fandoms I write for

Dean list: @akshi8278​

His boulevard of broken dreams tag list: @cockslut-padalecki​  

Body shivering from the cold penetrating the cab of your truck dragging the thin crochet blanket tighter around your shaking frame and cursing the day of Sam Winchester’s birth. Searching for the reason you’re parked three blocks down hidden behind an old shed weary eyes searching for any suspicious active. Still wondering why you said yes in the first place. But then the reason rounds the corner and you duck down out of sight. Beat up old truck passed by as you raise neck turned to watch it disappear into the drive. A deep sigh leaving while teeth chatter and rubbing your arms to stay warm. Would’ve used the heat but a running truck gave way that someones sitting, watching.

Thankful you’ve had years of stakeout experience and know all of Dean’s habits. Though you’ve counted a few knew ones since last being in his present. Head shaking those thoughts from your mind especially when you’re there simply as a watch and report. Memories skating back to get three days ago when Sam and Bobby dropped the bomb on your ass.

“We need eyes on him, watching his movements and those around just in case,” golden flecked green eyes stare right through you. Tipping his shaggy brown head to the side Sam gives you a half smile that doesn’t reach those once warm eyes .

Shrugging, “I don’t get why I gotta do this? Why not just bring Dean back into the hunt? Why are you leaving him in the dark about being alive?” Only finding out yourself four weeks ago that Sam Winchester came back from the Pit alive and relatively well. Course you hadn’t believed your eyes at first, flinging a silver dagger at his head which he ducked blade imbedded into the spot his head once resided. Holy water splashed in his face after recovering from almost being shish ka-bobbed.

“Because,” running a hand through that just brushing the collar length brown hair eyes still firmly fixed on you. “He deserves that life Y/N to have peace for once and not worry about what monsters lurk around the next corner.”

“Pff like Dean would ever relax into an apple pie life style Sam. Knowing him there’s salt at every window, devil’s trap under each entryway point. Sawed off shotgun under the bed with holy water and salt right besides.” Your own eyes boring into his not believing his reasons for a second. Seeing one too many differences in the youngest Winchester since his return from death. “You can’t tell me a man like Dean Winchester would consciously not prepare for anything to come knocking at his door. Even if he’s given that life up it doesn’t just fade away, I know.”

Shrugging though there’s a twist to the look he’s giving you almost like he doesn’t truly care what happens to Dean. It’s there then gone making you wonder if you’re seeing things.

Different voice fills in this time,“That maybe so but he’s still entitled to that life. Just as we have to watch his backside to make sure that life stays intact.” Stepping forward to rest a hand on your shoulder, Bobby’s gravelly voice softens a touch know your feelings. Having put you back together after leaving Dean at Lisa’s almost a year ago.“I know this won’t be easy on you kid and I’d do it myself but I gotta get back up to Sioux Falls. Been away too long as is and Jodi already called half a dozen along with every half wit hunter in the area,” giving you a half smile and a pat on the shoulder. Having a soft spot much like the one he harbors for the boys but doesn’t tell them.

“Piece of cake,” brushing the concern off but deep down thankful for Bobby’s reassuring words. “He’ll never see me and I’ll only make sure no bad guys see him.”  

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me, and I walk alone

I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Where the city sleeps

And I'm the only one, and I walk alone

“So much for this being a piece of cake,” huffing out the words grabbing for the second blanket and thermos filled with coffee. “Hmm cake that’s what I could use right now and a fucking bacon cheeseburger too.”

Passenger side door opening you reach for the 9 mm beside you, aiming it at the familiar brown head of Dean Winchester holding up a grease stained paper bag. “I come in peace and really don’t want to leave pieces plus I bring a peace offering up to the goddess,” soothing laughter edged voice comes from just outside the truck cab.

Thought you’d know that voice even in a crowded party with music thumping bass shaking the very roof shingles. “The fuck you doing Winchester I could’ve blown your head off.”

“Promise?” Wiggling his brow peeking in with that sinful signature smirk tugging at one corner of those plush lips. “Wanna lower that piece before you actually accidentally shoot me Dirty Harry?”

Tossing a balled up napkin at his head amazed at how quickly the same banter flows between you like old times. But it’s not old times and you’re not here to relive them. “How’d you know?”

“Sweetheart you maybe good but I’m still the best,” sliding into the bench seat of the truck, extending the greasy bag towards you. Keeping the door open a moment longer to take in your appearance, interior lighting doing shit for your complexion though to Dean you’re still beautiful as the day you walked out of his life.  

Looking from the bag to Dean, “Letting all the cold air in dumb shit close the door,” huddling into the blankets deeper in the guise of trying to keep warm when in reality your shrinking away from Dean. “What’s in the bag?”

Slamming the aged door, hinges creaking in protest, “Thought you’d like something semi warm instead of jerky and lukewarm coffee.” Trying to study your features in the dim streetlamp light. Only catching shadows and angles from his position. Question’s and there’s a lot of them swirl inside his head. Most prominent one isn’t a question but a gut wrenching admission he wouldn’t voice to anyone other than himself.

“Never answered my question Winchester,” taking the offered bag as your stomach growled in hunger. Fresh French fries scented the air upon opening the brown bag. Immediately sticking a hand in and grabbing a few to stuff into your mouth. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome growly,” chuckling marveling at how somethings never change no matter how much time passes. “You always drive the same beat up pickup sweetheart. This might not be Bear,” patting the weathered dash broad in front of him. Affectionate smile tugging at his lips turning his glaze back towards you. “But you always find a truck just like him. Something wrong with yours? Finally gave up the ghost didn’t he?”

The genuine curiosity in his tone isn’t lost on you nor is the way he’s glancing in your direction while stuffing your face. “What something hanging from my mouth?” Wiping at your chin feeling a little self conscious under the weight of his stare.

“No sweetheart it’s just,” shaking his head adjusting himself, back pressed into the door, left leg bent foot dangling and wiggling, a sure sign his nerves are raging through his veins right now. “How’ve you been?”

Swallowing, hating the fact that your once close relationship has slipped into nothing. Remembering the promise — now broken — you made the last time in his presence. Though he knew nothing about it and most likely never really thought about you much after leaving. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep from asking him to finish his first thought. You’re slow to answer, pretending to chew that last bite just a little longer to put off from answering. At a lost to what exactly to tell him. “Good…I’m good very good actually,” forcing the words out through a tightened jaw.

“Hmm,” knowing by your body posture, the constant darting of your eyes all tells him these are lies passing your lips. Part of him wants to know why? Why after almost a year with no visits did you happen to show up now? Suspicion riding him hard and demands the questions be answered. Though there’s that other side, the one he’s artfully kept carefully hidden ever since you stepped out of his life. The one telling him to pull you into his arms, hugging the very life from your body. Holding on to part of his former life one he missed if he wanted to be truthful with himself. Settling on, “Why are you here?”

“Pulling no punches I see Winchester,” bitting off his last name almost like a curse. Warmth of earlier gone with the devoured food now just a memory of greasy bag and dirty napkins. Catching the curt nod from the man himself you sit up straighter looking out over the quiet neighborhood. Carefully kept lawns and white picket fences, trash cans in hiding places and houses in the best shape the apple pie life a fantasy they’ve all talked about. But none manage to obtain till Dean, his name tasting bitter on your tongue. Unused after all those months passing like melting snowflakes. Not wanting to regain that familiarity with the man sitting opposite, eyes drilling unseen holes into the side of your head.

Flinching slightly, hating the way his last name is spit from your mouth like garbage. “You came here remember, your also the one who stayed away don’t lay that shit at my door Y/N.”

“Yes, but your,” turning, eyes flashing in anger towards him, “the one who walked away remember. You left this life, abandon Bobby and Cas… me.” Whispering the last part hoping he didn’t hear.

Scoffing, “I made a promise to Sam,” bitting the name out while trying to keep his emotions in check. “I didn’t abandon anyone if anything you ditched me with no returned calls, texts or even a fucking visit.”

Hearing the bitterness that underlay the deep cadence in his voice, your head shakes trying to hold onto your anger. To not let out why you’re here nor the fact seeing him again after a year dredges up all those old feelings both those of insecurity and yearning. “Why would I stop by when I knew this would happen? When I’d see you with Her wishing for once you had chosen…” bitting your tongue, quickly turning away. “This was a mistake, get out of my truck Winchester.”

“No,” single word leaving those plush lips and making you whip around to stare at him. Mouth gapping like a fish out of water lungs burning for oxygen. “Not till you explain why you’re here. If it’s such a hardship to come why now?” Desperately wanting you to finish the thought but too afraid the answer would break his heart.

Only two things Dean Winchester regrets in his life, letting Sam dive into the pit with Lucifer trapped inside his body and you walking out of his life. Now he walks this life alone with no one truly beside him. Yes, Lisa’s there but unlike you, she doesn’t understand the nightmares, the constant need to double and triple check the windows and doors. The need to keep her and Ben safe always in the fore front of his mind. Many nights — though he’d never admit it — he’d lay awake wondering if he made the wrong choice.            

I walk alone, I walk alone

I walk alone, I walk a-

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

Till then I walk alone

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah-ah

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

Schooling your expression and turning towards him prepared to give an Oscar worthy performance not anticipating the lost expression in those whiskey fleck green eyes. Trying to keep the emotions from shaking the timber of your voice, “I’d been in the area figured I’d stop by say hi.” Swallowing harshly licking your dry lips slowly and diverting your eyes back towards the road. “Now I see it’s a mistake, you have a good life and I have mine. So kindly get the fuck out of my truck.”

“I call bullshit sweetheart,” moving closer, Dean reaches out to take the hand nearest and intertwine your fingers together. Familiar gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Touch of his hand searing into your skin like a brand scorching your very soul. “There hasn’t been a mysterious case in the area for over a hundred miles. Now you gonna tell me why you’ve drove out of the way to park on my street three houses down for the last three days?” For the first time in months feeling a peace enclose him like a warm blanket on a chilly winter’s morning. He desperate to keep that warmth to keep you but there’s a little voice in the back of his mind sneering at him ‘it’s too late you’ve lost.’

Eager to pull your hand free yet reluctance stills your movement as emotions swamp your mind with memories of years ago when the two of you still hunted together. Heart pounding a triple time rhythm one yours sure Dean could hear with being so close. Eyes close in a desperate bid to reign in those feelings, to give nothing away and leave just as stoically as last time. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Call it what you want Winchester but it’s the truth,” yanking your hand from his to cross arms over your chest. “I don’t care if it’s not the answer you want it’ll be the only one I gave. So I ask, no demand that you get the fuck outta my truck,” last few words hissed through clinched teeth.

And just like that cold water is poured over his head dousing the feelings bubbling up. For the best, his mind screams while turning to reach for the door. “Just so you know sweetheart I never abandoned you, would never I just didn’t think I could give you the life your deserve. I choose the easy way out because even if it doesn’t work with Her at least I would leave with my heart.” Door creaking when opened, Dean stepped from the aged truck slamming it behind him. Sam’s voice in his mind admonishing him for the chick flick moment of weakness.

Each step he took away from your truck tore his heart to shreds. Inter-monologue fighting between cursing at him and knowing that it’s for the best. Pausing for a moment to look back seeing no movement he wonders and not for the first time if he’ll ever see you again. One last look and he turns away back towards his house, not home because you weren’t there and without you and Sam it didn’t feel like home.

I'm walking down the line

That divides me somewhere in my mind

On the borderline

Of the edge, and where I walk alone

Read between the lines

What's fucked up, and everything's alright

Check my vital signs

To know I'm still alive, and I walk alone

Siting in stunned silence searching for what to do if going after Dean is the best course of action or just starting up your truck to drive away is better. Either way would break your heart. Dean’s with Lisa and you’d never make him choose. Never put those kind of demands on the man you love. For a moment longer you sit in silent contemplation wanting to rage at the world, to burn it to the ground and let the remains scatter across the four winds. Head dropping against the steer wheel for a moment till movement catches your eye, someone lurking just outside the well kept community.

Eyes narrowing, scooping up the night vision goggles, a gift from a certain brown eyed FBI agent you helped out of situation a couple of months ago in Texas with a haunted painting. Scanning the area closely, finally coming to rest on a man who out of place. Soft curses falling from your lips. Reaching for the cell to pull up Sam’s number.

“Green light Sammy get your ass down here now seems we got a pest problem luring about.” Tracking the suspicious male till he sprints of at inhuman rate of speed. Pulling the goggles of to toss them beside the empty brown bah.

“Be there by night fall tomorrow Y/N. Dean make you yet?” Weariness in his tone makes you wonder just what he’s up to.

Wanting to lie though deciding against pulling a page from the Winchester play book, “Sadly but nothings leaked just hurry your ass up.” Hanging up to toss the phone into the seat next to you, settling in for a very long night of watching.    

I walk alone, I walk alone

I walk alone, I walk a-

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

Till then I walk alone

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah-ah

Ah-ah, ah-ah

I walk alone, I walk a-

I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Where the city sleeps

And I'm the only one, and I walk a-

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

Till then I walk alone

[drowningbydegrees]

For once this month, I actually wrote what I meant to.  Written for @whumptober2020 prompt 26. If you thought the head trauma was bad (Migraine, concussion, blindness). Pretty please mind the tags. <3

Read on AO3

In retrospect, they had had better days. They’d been all but run out of town, which, they were killing a monster for these ungrateful jerks, so rude. Said ungrateful jerks had also greatly understated the monster problem so that Geralt would agree to save the town they wouldn’t even let him sleep in for less money, so extra rude. And now, the monsters are dead, but the building that had served as a nest has pretty much come down around Geralt’s and Jaskier’s ears, which probably isn’t the villagers fault, but they’re summarily awful so the bard opts to blame them anyway.

Jaskier coughs as the dust and debris settle, but it still feels like he tried to breathe in a sandstorm. Blindly, he shakes the rubble from his hair with his hand, staring out into the darkness. There’s only the weakest light shining in from off to his right promising that a world continues to exist beyond their unexpected prison.

A prison that Jaskier hopes Geralt is investigating to find them a way out of. Geralt is quiet, but he’s always quiet, so that really doesn’t mean much. When he can’t hear the witcher, Jaskier squints at the dark room, wishing his friend didn’t absolutely insist on wearing black all the time. “I don’t suppose you can do that magicky thing you do and break us out of here?”

No answer comes.

“Geralt? You’re not on the other side of all these rocks are you? I really don’t fancy being stuck here alone,” Jaskier calls a little louder. He feels his way to where the crumbled stone blocked off the exit and finds it every bit as impassable as he feared. Jaskier thinks to try and free himself, but the first rock he grabs comes loose and the whole pile rumbles, sending the bard scrambling backward, tripping over something and landing in a heap on the floor. Alright, bad idea then.

He had initially assumed the something he tripped over was more rocks, except that it makes a wretched little whimpering sound that rocks are very definitely not capable of. Fuck.

Hampered by the fact that he can’t see, Jaskier feels his way across the floor until he finds the hard leather protecting Geralt’s torso. Geralt isn’t moving and he can’t see, so Jaskier curses under his breath as he maps his way up to the witcher’s face. “C’mon Geralt. Wake up. This is really not the time.”

A hand held in front of Geralt’s face confirms that at least he’s still breathing, but that’s no real comfort when he’s still so still and quiet. It’s as much reassurance as Jaskier thinks he’s going to get though, so he continues. Maybe if he could get Geralt to sit up…

Jaskier never gets that far. Blindly, he slides a hand behind Geralt’s head and his heart nearly stops in his chest. Geralt’s hair is matted with something warm and sort of viscous, and when Jaskier rubs his fingers together, they’re wet. The touch that just got what Jaskier assumes is blood on his hands is also the thing that finally pulls a sound from Geralt. That makes it even worse because it’s an agonized moan that Jaskier is pretty sure is going to haunt him every day for the rest of his life.

“Okay, don’t panic Jask. You can fix this,” he mumbles under his breath. If he just had some light. Jaskier glares at the little hole where the sun is still shining in like the wall did this just to harm him personally. If the window is mostly blocked, there have to be a lot of stones in the way, and no telling if he could lift them.

Except maybe he doesn’t have to. Frantically, Jaskier feels around for Geralt’s sword, breathing out a sigh of relief when he finally wraps his fingers around the hilt. If luck is on his side, maybe he can get enough leverage to knock something free.

“How do you use this thing?” Jaskier grumbles once he’s got it, supporting the weight of the sword against his shoulder. It’s not that it’s all that heavy to stand there and hold, but even the idea of swinging it around is exhausting. On the upside, it seems sturdy enough to pry a few rocks loose, and if it isn’t… well, a sword is replaceable. Geralt is decidedly less so.

Every second feels too long, like he’s moving in slow motion. Jaskier shuffles across the open space as briskly as he dares, shoves the sword into the first thing that feels like a gap in the rocks and shifts his weight downward against the hilt. There’s nothing. The rock is too heavy or he is too weak, or the sword isn’t stiff enough, or…

Jaskier shakes his head, refusing to give up like that. He yanks the sword free and tries again, a little off to one side. This time, the sword slips further in with the grating sound of stone on steel. Once again, he throws all his weight into pushing the sword down like a lever. There’s a creak, an echoing sort of groan as It moves a little and then all at once. Jaskier barely has time to jump out of the way as a sizable rock skids from its resting place along with a shower of pebbles.

It’s not really a big enough gap to get out, but it does let the light in quite a bit more. The room is dim and dusty, but it brings the periphery into focus, not that Jaskier cares a whit about that. He nearly stumbles over the rocks scattered across the floor in his hurry to get back to Geralt.

“Oh, no no no.” Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat when his gaze settles on the witcher. He has seen Geralt muddle through all manner of injury, has patched up a fair few of them himself. He’s stitched up angry, uneven gashes and set fractured bones, but none of those things prepares him for the way Geralt looks now. Blood spreads around the witcher’s head like some sort of macabre halo staining Geralt’s hair a disturbing shade of crimson and soaking into the dust and rock around him.

It’s not really a relief to find Geralt’s potions weren’t lost when the building came down around them. It’s more like a handful of sandbags in the face of a hurricane. He’s not a complete stranger to them though, and a rather distraught effort at rifling through the witcher’s bag turns up one Jaskier recognizes. It’s an orangey red, almost sparkling, and he’s seen it work before on things that should have killed Geralt. He’s got it in hand when he realizes he needs to back up a step. It can’t mend the witcher if he bleeds out first.

There are no bandages, because of course there aren’t. Jaskier shrugs out of his doublet. It’s not soft at all, so the chemise goes too, and that he can work with. Carefully as he can, Jaskier winds the cloth around Geralt’s head, tying it in place and hoping to whatever deity might be listening that it’s enough.

The potion comes next, and that’s somehow much worse. Geralt doesn’t stir when Jaskier brings the bottle to his lips. The only thing Jaskier can think to do is drip it in a little at a time, so agonizingly slowly that he worries it’ll be too late before he’s even finished. Afterwards, he stares at Geralt’s unnaturally still form, waiting to make sure he doesn’t choke on the stuff somehow.

Are you supposed to leave people where they are or something else entirely? Jaskier doesn’t have the foggiest idea, but he can’t bear the idea of leaving Geralt on the hard ground. Shivering in the chilly air, Jaskier ignores the blood seeping into his trousers and sits so that he can rest Geralt’s head in his lap. He won’t panic over the stain spreading too quickly across his chemise. He won’t. “You're not dying here. You don't get to leave me behind. Not like this.”

All that’s left to do is wait.

***

Geralt can’t remember ever opening his eyes to this before, the world having slid so violently out of focus. There’s a weight, or maybe it’s him that’s heavy. Even curling his fingers a monumental effort.

“Wh-” It’s all he manages before words fail him, and suddenly there is a hand squeezing his shoulder.

“Oh thank fuck,” someone says. Jaskier? Geralt thinks it’s probably Jaskier. It usually is. “How are you feeling?” Did something happen that suddenly granted him sleeping in Jaskier’s lap privileges? He doesn’t think so. That feels important in a way he can’t imagine being ambushed by, tied to a conversation he keeps not having, but here they are, his head very definitely in Jaskier’s lap. Only Jaskier looks horribly unhappy, so… so…

Jaskier had been asking him something. “What?”

“How’s your head? There was a lot of blood and I didn’t know if the potion would be enough, and…” Jaskier’s still talking. Geralt is distantly aware of this, but the words won’t stick.

“What happened?” he says, or hopes he does. His mouth feels as disjointed as the rest of him and it’s disconcertingly difficult to tell.

“The building came down on us. Don’t you remember?”

“Obviously not,” Geralt bites out. Wait. The building came down and as that sinks in, there’s a sharp pang of fear, but not for himself. He’ll be fine. He’s always fine. But Jaskier is human and sometimes overwhelmingly fragile. Geralt's head is swimming and he's almost afraid to ask. “Are you alright?”

“Me? I’m fine.” There’s more, but the rest won’t stay put. That’s the important bit anyway. Jaskier is okay. The swell of fear dissipates like a puff of smoke as quickly as it had sprung up. The building is a problem, but he can figure that out. Somehow. It’ll come to him eventually. To Jaskier’s credit, he does seem fine, if oddly clothed. Rather not clothed, actually. “Where is your shirt?” “Ah yeah, that.” Jaskier’s knuckles brush gently across Geralt’s temple. Dizzily, Geralt leans into it before it occurs to him maybe he shouldn't. “You were bleeding a lot. It was all I had to work with.”

“Hmm.” There’s an itchy sort of feeling at the back of his mind suggesting he’s supposed to be alarmed by that, but the response itself never comes. Not the way it did for Jaskier. Which, there was a reason he was worried about Jaskier, he’s pretty sure. There might be a reason he’s lying here too, what whatever it is, it’s lost to him now. They’re somewhere dark and dusty, and they can’t stay here forever, so without much thought, Geralt rolls over, trying to get up. It’s a mistake.

That the room is spinning is the least terrible thing out of all the things that come of his attempt to get up. The shift in equilibrium feels like having nails driven into his skull from every angle, sharp and impossible to tune out. There’s a high, keening sound Geralt only belatedly realizes is him.

“Geralt. Fuck. Hang on.” There’s nothing to hang onto though, and Geralt all but collapses down to his forearms. For a second he’s very, very certain he’s going to retch, but the immediacy of the sensation passes, leaving him deeply nauseous instead.

Jaskier’s hand smooths up and down his arm in the places where hard leather doesn’t block out sensation. In another place he might call the touch affectionate, but what daydream could he be in where that’s true? “Where are we?”

“We just talked about this. We're in a building that collapsed.” Something has crept into the edges of Jaskier’s voice, fretful and shadowed. Geralt decides he doesn’t like it. He’d like to soothe it away, but does not know how.

“‘M fine,” he tries because Jaskier seems worried about him, but even in his own ears the words blur together. Geralt tries to lift his head enough to look at Jaskier and prove his point, but the awful needlepoint pressure only presses more deeply. The witcher drops his head, forehead resting against what he thinks might be Jaskier’s knee.

“You’re not fine, you dolt. I don't want to mess it up, but I don't know how to fix this one. Are you supposed to sleep it off? Should I make sure you don’t sleep?” Jaskier is saying things still, Geralt is distantly aware, but the words all drift like dandelion seeds. There’s only this thread of terror that Geralt cannot stomach hearing.

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” he mumbles, blindly reaching to lay his hand over Jaskier’s. He’s not dead and Jaskier is well enough to talk, so it can’t be that bad, can it? “Tell me what happened.”

“...Geralt?” Jaskier’s thumb is brushing against the back of Geralt’s neck. It’s sort of lovely in that it's one pleasant thing when everything else is awful. “What do you remember?”

That’s a trick question if Geralt ever heard one. His memory is fine. He can’t think of any reason it wouldn’t be. Refusing to fall for it, Geralt aims to distract instead. “That feels nice.” 

 “Well, now I know you’re unwell. The Geralt I know barely tolerates my being around for more than a few weeks at a time, and would never own up to liking something I was doing.

Does Jaskier really think that? Maybe. Geralt can’t seem to hang onto where that line of reasoning was going, but Jaskier was talking and wrong. He needs to know he's wrong. “That’s not true. I miss you when you’re gone.”

“Ooooookay. That’s very sweet, but I think you’ll remember that’s not true when you’re better." It sounds sad, but Jaskier still has a hand on him, warm and welcome.

He’s staring very closely at a floor that was probably pretty once, but it’s cracked now. It’s a weird place to be, even for him, so Geralt tries to get up. Sort of. More precisely, he lifts his head an inch or two. It’s as far as he gets before his head feels like it’s splitting and he thinks he might be sick.

”Okay, that’s enough of that. You are, in fact, the worst patient. I would like to not be stuck here, and I imagine you would like to not be stuck here, so just let me help.” Stuck? Geralt doesn’t know where they’re stuck, but he knows there’s some reason he shouldn’t ask. Nodding is probably a terrible idea, so the witcher hums an agreement and listens to Jaskier sweep the worst of the debris from the floor next to them.

There are hands on him next, guiding him somewhere else with painstaking care. Geralt lets himself be moved. He ends up on his side before it feels very abruptly like Roach is stepping on his skull. It’s all he can do to bite off a low whimper.

“Alright, hey. Just get some rest. That swallow has to work eventually, right?” Jaskier doesn’t sound certain, but there's something soft under Geralt’s cheek and there’s a gentle hand cradling the side of his neck, a thumb carefully sweeping across his temple. If they weren’t lost, Geralt would call the gesture affectionate, but nothing makes any sense here. Are they lost?

Geralt thinks about the worried quiver in Jaskier’s voice. He'd fix it if he just knew how. It's quiet here, and Jaskier doesn't belong by himself in the quiet. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You’re not.” There’s a change in pressure around his skull, something falling away, but it doesn’t hurt, and it comes with Jaskier’s fingers sliding through his hair. “Your head is looking better.”

That’s good, he thinks. Maybe it means the awful needling feeling will go away. Maybe it means this other ache, the one sprawling out behind his ribcage, will go away too. It means something, Geralt knows, but he can’t quite piece it together and his mouth runs away without the rest of him. “I don’t think I want to be alone.” 

 “You’re not. I’m right here.” Jaskier’s short nails scritch tenderly at the base of Geralt’s skull, a welcome counterpoint to everything else. “You’re not alone.”

***

I don’t think I want to be alone. It’s a revelation if it means anything. Jaskier knows, of course, that the rambling of a witcher who couldn’t even remember how they got there for more than thirty seconds at a time might not mean anything at all. But if there’s nothing to it, at least Jaskier can know that there for a moment in time, he could be exactly what Geralt needed. For now, Geralt’s face is pressed into Jaskier’s thigh, his breathing the only sound in this dim place.

An hour in, Jaskier starts to wonder if it wasn’t the other way around. Maybe he was supposed to keep Geralt from sleeping. Two hours in, he worries that Geralt might wake up in just as bad of shape as before, that he’ll have failed them both. Three hours in, sitting so still has gotten to be agonizing as much as he’d like to stay.

He’s just about to try and see how carefully he can move out from under Geralt when the witcher stirs. There’s a low groan and one eerie golden eye slowly blinking open.

“Careful.” Jaskier carefully brushes his thumb along Geralt’s temple, trying to coax the witcher into staying put, even if it means his own continued discomfort.

“Fuck. That hurts,” Geralt grumbles, holding his hand over the upper half of his face, and some of Jaskier’s unease settles. The words are perfectly clear this time.

“Shockingly, Falling rocks will do that.” He should let go, Jaskier thinks, but he carefully threads his fingers through Geralt’s hair and the witcher stays like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. It's probably just that Geralt needs a little time to reorient himself, but for a moment, Jaskier lets himself believe it’s true.

Bit by bit, Geralt seems to recover. When he finally pushes himself to sit up, there’s a pained wince, but the witcher’s eyes remain focused. That’s… good. That’s probably good. Except if it’s not. “Should you be doing that?” 

 “I’m fine,” Geralt replies gruffly instead of bothering to answer the question. It’s considerably more normal than their last conversation, so that’s something.

 “Actually fine or ‘I can’t wrap my head around the fact that someone might care what happens to me’ fine?” Geralt ignores the question entirely, his gaze flicking over their surroundings before settling on Jaskier. “You were afraid.”

It's not a question, and Geralt is looking at him like a puzzle to solve. It would just figure, the one time the man is actually listening to him. It seems weird that Geralt couldn't keep ahold of where they even were, but that Jaskier being afraid for him would stick even now. Then again, Jaskier doesn't know anything about head injuries. Maybe that's just how it goes.

“Damn right I was. I thought you were dying and I was going to be trapped down here with your… your corpse or something. Then you woke up making no sense, and I don’t know what to do with a head injury, which it turns out is an awfully stressful thing to guess about. I wasn't even sure I'd done enough to fix it until, what, five minutes ago?” It's a lot, even for him, the words tripping over each other in their need to escape. Jaskier leans on theatrics because it’s all the armor he has. Anything else might give away how his heart broke with every attempt Geralt made to speak the last time around.

“Hmm.” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose and says nothing more. Typical.

Jaskier wants to be angry, but the feeling floats away as soon as he really looks at Geralt. There are dark, angry smudges under his eyes, and Geralt is so pale, more than usual even. He appears every bit the part of someone who was recently on death’s door and Jaskier just can’t hang onto any real bitterness. “How’re you feeling?”

Geralt gives him a sour look, the kind he gets when he thinks Jaskier is asking a dumb question. Much to Jaskier’s surprise, he does answer eventually. “Terrible… but not dying.”

“Sooooo, any thoughts on how we get out of here?” It’s abrupt, but Jaskier really can’t stomach thinking the state Geralt was in, and escape is the next most pressing thing. The sooner they steer away from what happened, the less likely he is to say something foolish.

There’s that look a second time, and this time Geralt doesn’t deign to answer. Which is okay really. They’ve been stuck here this long. A little longer probably won’t hurt anything.

“I was. Dying, I mean,” Geralt says quietly, startling Jaskier from his thoughts. The bard follows Geralt’s gaze to where there is still quite a lot of blood splattered across the floor. It's dry, but it stains the alabaster flooring and pale, crumbled stone.

“Oh, that. Well, see I-” Jaskier stumbles because he doesn't know what Geralt wants, and having nearly lost the witcher in this remnant of a room has left him raw and tender in places. It's almost a relief when Geralt’s hand slaps unceremoniously over Jaskier’s mouth, stifling any further reply, but not hard enough to hurt. When Jaskier looks at him in surprise, he’d swear there was something like affection in Geralt’s exasperated expression. It's probably just a trick of the light.

“Stop. Talking. You did well. I'm still here, aren't I?” With a grimace, Geralt pulls his hand from Jaskier’s mouth and wobbles to his feet. It’s an unsteady motion, and Jaskier isn’t sure it’s really wise this soon after nearly having his brains bashed in. Geralt seems to manage though, and holds out a hand to Jaskier like he’s the one who needs support.

“In this life, some days not dead is the best you can hope for." Jaskier can’t help but take Geralt’s hand, letting the witcher yank him to his feet. Jaskier thinks he catches a smile, but Geralt turns away too quickly to be sure. What he is sure of is that he's on his feet and Geralt's hand is still holding onto his. "Not dead... and not alone.”

You can find the rest of my Witcher fanworks here. <3

[xfandomwritingsx]

Being Human - James Vega/F!Shepard

Description: James and Shepard finally stop dancing around each other. AKA; a rewrite of the Citadel DLC.

Warnings/Labels: None really. Some super minor sexual stuff.

Approx. Word Count: 4,500

A/N: Look... this is at best a rough draft that I typed up and didn’t edit, but I will forever be bitter about how they made the Citadel play out with these two. And while I know it won't happen, I really wish they'd fix it in the remaster. I mean if you're going to remaster the games, that sounds like a damn good time to fix anything inappropriate and rape-y right?! I would love to do a whole slow burn of Shepard and Vega spanning from Earth to the end of the game, but if you know me, you know I'm SLOW AS MOLASSES to update and I'm not lying when I say it would take me years to finish. So instead... have a poorly written snippet. I tried to keep it as much in “canon character” as I could. 

Shepard stands on the balcony of her new apartment, mind gently jogging around the events of the last few days which bleeds into the events of the last few years. Resting her arms on the metal railing, she drops her head and sighs, trying to pull herself from the black hole that is her memory anymore. She wants to let it all go, just for a night.

“Hey, Lola,” James calls, pulling her back to the present. She looks up briefly wondering how long he’d been there before she sees the door closing behind him. How had she not heard it? “Nice place,” he comments, looking around the open layout. “Might not look so nice after that party you were talking about.” He walks further in, headed for the stairs to join her on the balcony.

“You wouldn’t trash my new apartment, would you James?” she jokes lightly, pushing herself upright off the railing.

“Me?” He spins a little, keeping his eyes on her as he continued to travel backwards to the stairs. “Nooo. Never,” he draws it out, the sarcasm a little thick. Shepard rolls her eyes at him, but he sees the little smile at the corner of her lips too.

James has always had that effect on her. No matter what dumb thing came out of his mouth, he managed to make her smile. It was something she’d craved over the last few months more than ever. While everyone else gave her pep talks that only managed to remind her how much the galaxy rested on her shoulders, James was more likely to tell her that her pants hugged her curves just right. He let her forget about being Commander Shepard even if for just a few moments.

He whistles as he approaches her side, looking out over the balcony with her.

“Nice view. But this place?” He shakes his head just slightly. “It’s just so... not what I’m used to.” He gives a small shrug, still looking out over the scenery and the lights outside the large windows.

“Which is?” Shepard prods. They don't talk about their pasts very often. Everyone already knew hers and James was never extremely open about his own. He puts his hands on the railing and leans into his arms a little.

“I grew up on the beach in the Pacific,” he shares. “So, you know; water, sand, real air.” She thinks there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“You miss it?” He doesn’t look at her this time and instead she watches as he loosens his grip on the rail a little bit and sighs.

“Yeah. And the people.” She catches the undertone, the longing that implies he’s thinking of someone specific when he says it.

“So, what’s her name?” she asks. She means it to be teasing, but there’s an unexpected pang in her gut that feels all too much like jealousy for her liking and it ruins the lighthearted joke in her voice. She shifts her weight a little and slips a hand into the pocket of her pants.

“No! No.” he clarifies through a bark of a laugh, easing her tension a little. “I stopped... fraternizing when I joined the military. The two don’t seem to go well together.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from being a shameless flirt.” It had taken a short amount of time after they’d first met on Earth for him to relax around her and once he did, the comments, the winks, the innuendos and double entendres never ceased. The only thing he never seemed to do, was be physical with his flirting. He’d never so much as run a hand down her arm or let his hands linger when they sparred. Though Shepard had found herself wishing he would recently.

“Yeah, well... that’s just my way. I don’t mean anything by it.” There’s something in the way that he still won’t look at her that makes her think maybe that’s not all true.

“Too bad.” She drops her tone a little and takes a step towards him. “I wasn’t complaining.” He cracks a smile and lets out another short laugh.

“Who’s the shameless flirt now?” He gives her a single glance and then looks back down to his hands on the railing.

“So you can give it, but you can’t take it?” The flirting had never been completely one sided, but it certainly came heavier from him and it wasn’t uncommon for him to get a little flustered when she returned it.

“No, it’s just...” He releases the railing and pushes away, adding a little distance between the two. “You’re my commander, por dios. I can never tell if you’re yanking my chain.” He looks at her, really looks at her this time and the mood shifts. The air gets thicker, heavier and it feels like an opportunity, one she doesn’t want to slip away again.

“And what if I’m not?” she asks, voice dipping down again. “Not just yanking your chain?” James swallows thickly and there’s a mumble of a noise from his lips, but he doesn’t give a response. Instead, she’s pleased to watch as his eyes travel down from her eyes to her lips, down her neck and through the valley between her breasts that he can see all too well in her black tank top. “Are you going to tell me you’ve never thought about it?”

“Uhhh… I mean you’re one hell of a woman and I’m still just flesh and blood, if you know what I mean.” She can see a bit of redness creep up his neck and Shepard wonders if the implication is just that his body reacts to her or if he’s actually done something about it when his body reacts.

“So am I, James. And you are one hell of a man yourself.” She slips in front of him, putting herself between himself and the railing, all but begging him to pin her there. He makes no move to do so however. Instead, his eyes drop down to their feet and Shepard feels like she’s sinking. “But you’re not interested.” She leans back into the railing, wanting to retreat. James snaps his eyes back to hers and his mouth flops for a few moments as if he’s going to say something, but after a minute of silence, Shepard gives up. She slinks away off to the side and as far away as she can get without feeling too awkward. “Well, now that you’ve shot me down, was there anything else you came here to talk about?”

“Uhhh, yeah,” he stutters, shaking his head. She feels a little bad to have put him on the spot, but she’s just as embarrassed as he is. “I wanted to show you something.”

He turns away from her and pulls his shirt over his head. It takes Shepard longer than she should admit to notice he’s not just showing off the well-toned muscles in his back and shoulders, but trying to show her the new and finished N7 tattoo. He looks at her over his shoulder.

“What do you think?”

“Looks good,” she says honestly. “You’ve earned it.” She sees him smile a little at her approval. She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to lighten her tone. “Though I think it’s a little mean to flaunt yourself to the woman you just turned down.” He chuckles, taking her teasing easily.

“Here I was thought I was being nice giving you at least a little something,” he jokes back before turning to face her, shirt still in his hand. “Thought you liked the show.” She rolls her eyes, but even after him turning her down, the flirting still makes her feel better. “Anyways... Just wanted to show you that bad boy.” He slips his shirt back over his head and she resists the small urge to tell him to keep it off. “I gotta get back to the Normandy,” he says. “Esteban wants my help working on the shuttle.” Shepard shuffles her feet for a moment and then sticks out her hand towards him.

“Thanks for coming by, James.” She uses a formal voice, hoping the gesture and tone will clearly communicate a no hard feelings vibe. He reaches out and takes her hand. The handshake lasts for less than a second before he brings her hand up into a fist grab and pulls her closer. He locks her eyes with his and that tension rises again.

“Lola,” he whispers. “I’m not not interested.” She loosens her grip in his, going from firm comradery to something softer. “It’s just that… you’re Commander Shepard, you know?” He watches her shoulders fall and he knows instantly it was the wrong thing to say.

“I get it, James,” she says, attempting to hide her dejection. It’s the title, the legend that again stands in her way from being a regular woman. So much for him being the person who makes her forget it all. “Don’t worry about it.” She withdraws from him quickly and a little more coldly than she intended. He again opens his mouth, but doesn’t form words. “I’ll see you later,” she dismisses him and he nods. He moves to leave before trying once more to end on a friendly note.

“This is gonna be a perfect place for a fiesta.”

~~~

For a guy who all but told her no, James is sure as shit staring at her an awful lot like he wants to rip her clothes off.

“Is constant staring customary to the human mating ritual?” Garrus teases him as he pours drinks on the other side of the bar. “Because if so, you’re doing a damn good job, Jimmy.” James grimaces and throws a peanut shell at the Turian.

“Shut it, Scars.”

“He’s still convinced regs are a problem to worry about,” Steve chimes in, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Regs? Really?” Garrus asks. “You realize breaking regulations is pretty much Shepard’s specialty, right?” He slides the drink towards James who just shakes his head at it and passes it to Steve. “And even if it wasn’t, we’re quite possibly facing the end of the galaxy here. Who’s kissing who isn’t something anyone’s worried about, even the brass.” James mumbles something and picks at the label on his nearly full beer bottle.

He can barely see Shepard at the kitchen entrance from his spot at the end of the bar and every time she moves, his neck cranes to follow her. He’d either purposely or accidentally kept her in view all night and has spent the better part of it kicking himself for not just throwing her against a wall earlier that day.

She catches his eye and he instantly looks away, back to his bottle. She chose to wear a dress of all things tonight. A god damned dress. A little black number that fit her better than it had any right to. The woman was trying to kill him.

“Boys,” he hears her greet them casually, having approached them at the bar while he was attempting to ignore her. “How are things going?” James doesn’t hear their response. He’s too preoccupied trying to keep his eyes off of her chest as she leans her hip against the edge of the bar. “You seem quiet, Vega,” she comments.

“Just enjoying the party.” He shrugs and takes a drink of his beer, thinking about how he could kill Garrus and Steve for the look they shoot each other.

“Steve,” Garrus interrupts. “Let me show you that data pad I mentioned earlier.” Garrus had, of course, mentioned no such data pad in their prior conversations, but Steve agreed eagerly and James really thought about strangling at least one of them when they left him alone with Shepard.

“We good?” she asks him so casually that he almost feels bad.

“Yeah, why?” He takes another drink of his beer and it quickly turns into a large gulp.

“You seem to be avoiding me,” She squints and forces a smile. “And also staring, which is odd. Just want to make sure we’re good.” She takes a sip of her own drink and shifts her eyes to the Turian alcohol bottle, investigating it curiously.

James chews on his tongue for a moment. She wants them to be good. Good means normal. Normal would mean telling her those squats she’s been doing have done wonders for her ass and that was dangerous tonight.

“It help if I tell you that you look damn fine in that dress?” He never was too good at avoiding danger.

“Maybe,” She shrugs and leans forward towards him just a little. “Probably help a little more if you called me Lola.” Damn if her voice didn’t sound husky and smooth. Despite his better judgement, he followed her lead and leaned in as well, lowering his voice if nothing more than to make sure eavesdroppers wouldn’t hear.

“Well, that dress is definitely giving me ideas… Lola.” A smile breaks on her lips and he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he sees her shiver just the slightest. He takes another long drink, but this time doesn’t take his eyes off her.

“You going to keep a girl guessing or are you going to share with the class?” She takes a step forward, getting close enough for him to notices she actually put on a light layer of perfume too. He chuckles, but curses internally.

“You’re making it real hard to remember why this is a bad idea,” he warns.

He starts listing the reasons in his head. Fraternization regs. She’s his commander. She’s fucking Commander Shepard and he’s just a nobody lieutenant who makes a shitty leader. She’s probably looking for some kind of easy fling. Distracting her like that would be selfish. It’d look bad. The rest of the crew might start to question her judgement. The list goes on and on.

“I never pegged you to be a guy who runs hot and cold,” she says, breaking his train of thought. “And yet today you’ve given more mixed signals than a broken comm transmission.”

“Sorry, Lola.” And he is, honestly. He’s a tangled-up mess of thoughts and emotions and even the little bit of alcohol he’s consumed tonight is making him think with his dick first.

“Want me to put on a wig? Change my name? Maybe lay on an accent?” He can tell by the wiggle in her eyebrows as much as the suggestion itself that she’s had a little too much to drink, but it twists his stomach in a bad way all the same. “I don’t have to be Commander Shepard for a night.” And now he feels guilty, so much so that his neck and his face turn red and he looks down again, embarrassed at himself. She gives a quick pat to his forearm. “Come find me if you change your mind.”

She grabs her drink and leaves to mingle with her other guests, leaving him alone to feel like an asshole. He could never find the right thing to say around Shepard. Not when it came to this. He wanted her and lately he had to admit it was more than just a sexual attraction. He wanted more than that, but the idea of being selfish enough to pursue Commander Shepard was intimidating. Maybe, he admits, he needs to stop separating her and realize that Commander Shepard and his Lola are one and the same. Maybe then he can stop being a dick.

“Fucking pendejo,” he whispers to himself before swiping up that Turian bottle.

~~~

She can feel the headache before she even opens her eyes. Had she really drank much last night? No, she’s sure she didn’t. She even remembers everything, including climbing into her bed after barely having the energy to change clothes.

She throws on her N7 sweatshirt and slowly treks her way to the kitchen, making sure to note all the remnants of the party, including some of her friends scattered amongst the apartment. It makes her smile.

She smells bacon as she rounds the corner and sees James at the stove already in the full throws of making breakfast. He beams a smile at her when he sees her in the doorway and flips the pan a little.

“Lola!” he greets. “Eggs?”

“You’re awful cheery,” she comments dryly, and a little bitterly, as she steps further into the kitchen. She rounds the island the stove is on and snags a piece of bacon from the plate there.

“Been a while since you knocked that many back?” he teases, watching the way her eyes squint uncomfortably. “Breakfast will help.” He shovels some of the fresh eggs onto a plate and passes it her way. She takes them gratefully and reaches for the salt. James’ hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her reach. “You really gonna do me like that?” he scolds playfully. “Add salt before you even try them? That’s my abuela’s recipe. It doesn't need more salt.” She cracks a smile, but doesn’t move her hand away just yet, the warmth of his hand feeling too comforting to pull away from. There’s a gentle swipe of his thumb over her pulse before he lets go on his own. He empties the rest of the eggs on a communal plate before clearing his throat. “Hey, let me know when you have some time,” he says. It sounds surprisingly awkward. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

~~~

Never being one to put things off, Shepard returned to her room as soon as she’d finished eating and made the rounds to make sure everyone was awake or, at the very least, breathing.

I’m in my room. Got some time. She sends the message before even making it through the door. It doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to respond.

Be up in a minute.

She makes herself busy with her omni-tool while she waits. She feels a bit like a fool, practically throwing herself at him a second time only to be left alone again last night. She wouldn’t blame him if he came to talk to her about how uncomfortable she had made him.

She’s left the door open for him, but he still gives it a gentle knock to get her attention when he arrives.

“Nice room,” he comments, sticking his head over the threshold and looking around. “Bit different than the Normandy. Less fish.” He cracks a smile at her and the simple gesture puts her at ease a little. He can’t be pissed at her if he’s still making jokes, right?

“You’re just jealous you don’t have fish in your room.” She isn’t about to admit that she actually misses the blue glow and gentle whir of the filter when she falls asleep. Not right now at least.

“Yeah, well, maybe we should trade rooms sometime.”

Or maybe we could share mine. Shepard physically bites her tongue to stop herself from saying it aloud. Still unsure of exactly where they stand and just how awkward she made things for him, it is not the time to let the flirtations rise up that quickly.

He takes her brief silence to enter the room and close the door behind him. That makes her a little nervous, but not nearly as much as when he says, “So... we should talk about last night.”

“I owe you an apology, Lieutenant,” she says instantly, nearly cutting him off. The way she snaps back to professionalism with a straight back, pushed down shoulders, and a commanding tone makes him pause for a moment, his eyes widening just a fraction. “I was inappropriate with you and should not have taken advantage of my rank.” It takes an extra moment for her apology to sink in and his brow furrows as he sorts it through his brain.

“What? No!” he huffs and takes two large, hurried steps her way. She must not have held her surprise well enough because he suddenly stops again. “Lola,” he sighs. “I didn’t come here to... register a complaint.” His face crunches up as though he doesn’t like the way the word taste. “I came to apologize to you,” he says firmly. “And hopefully not fuck up my words this time.”

The intensity in his eyes and the way he’s not shying away from her makes Shepard feel like she’s a young girl again. Any and all experience she has with men and relationships seems to just melt away and suddenly she’s got butterflies and a blush. There’s a nervous heat in her stomach that makes it hard to regain her composure.

“Okay,” she says slowly, not completely sure of where he’s going, but hoping to every God in the galaxy that he’s not turning her down again.

“I can’t hook up with you.” The butterflies die and the excited heat turns to an anger.

“I promise you don’t have to reject me again for me to understand.” She says it harshly, bitterly even. She barely manages to contain throwing her arms in the air when she turns away from him, moving towards the desk in the corner as if she has something better to do. She hears him mutter under his breath and while her Spanish is terrible, the inflection makes it sound like a string of curses.

“Shepard!” He follows her footsteps and when she spins to sit in the desk chair, his arm is extended as though he reached out for her just a moment too late. “I can’t hook up with you,” he emphasizes. “I can’t do just one night and that’s what would have happened last night. Would have been a drunken hook up that one of us or both of us would have brushed off in the morning. I don’t want that.” Her anger starts to dissolve and her spine loses some of its rigidness as she slinks back into her chair.

“What do you want then?” she asks, voice softer and quieter now. She’s afraid of the answer. He chews on his tongue and grinds his jaw and she wonders if maybe he’s afraid too.

“You,” he finally says.

“You sure about that?” She can’t help but scoff. “I am Commander Shepard, after all.”

“Yeah, you are.” His sigh this time seems more like a pained groan. Shepard watches carefully as he turns and sits himself on her unmade bed. “Which is why it feels completely selfish and impossible to ask you to commit to anything more, let alone to an insignificant lieutenant like me.”

“Commit?” She suddenly feels lighter again.

“When I go for something, I go all in,” he tells her. “That would include you...this...us.” He waves his hand out awkwardly and avoids her eyes as though he’s nervous. She bites down on her lip to swallow down the smile. She knows it’s not exactly fair to enjoy his nervousness, but at least it’s not just her. She slowly pushes herself up from her chair.

“You’re not insignificant,” she assures him.

“I’m not some hero of the galaxy,” he admits. He doesn’t say it with a self-conscious, but rather states it just as a simple fact. “I haven’t been with you since the beginning like most of these guys.”

“You know that’s one of the things I like about you James?” He looks up at her curiously. “Sure, you’ve heard the stories, but we didn't meet on the ship in the midst of wars. We met on Earth.” She rounds the desk slowly, walking closer to where he sits still using caution in case he backs out. “You didn’t just get to know Commander Shepard. You got to know Jane, to know me. You treat me like I’m human.”

“You are human, Lola.” He’s not looking away from her now and it gives her a little burst of confidence.

“Yeah. What was it you said? Just flesh and blood?” There’s a tease of a smirk on her lips as she comes to stand in front of him, legs stopping just short of slipping between the gap of his spread knees. He chuckles and the weight of everything starts to lift.

“You sure about this, Lola?” He reaches out and curls his hand around her hip. It's the first time he’s ever really touched her and it makes her heart skip just a little. She leans into his touch, pushing her hip into his palm and leans forward to put her hands on his shoulders. He feels solid beneath her and she can’t resist the need to squeeze just a little, to feel the muscles at the end of her fingers.

“I’ve thought about it in great detail.” He cocks an eyebrow at her and tugs her in-between his legs. He watches her with an unbridled desire in his eyes and for the first time in a long time, she feels real excitement. She traces one hand up the side of his neck so she can run his fingers along his jaw. “That party shouldn’t be the last bit of happiness we get to indulge in.”

He moves quickly; his hand on the back of her neck before she knew he moved it, using barely any strength to pull her down to him. She follows him easily, all too eager to kiss him heatedly. Months of suppressed desires pour out into each other and for the first few moments, they merely hold onto each other and soak in the relief of letting go. And then James’ hands start moving, pulling her closer and sliding over the curve of her ass. Shepard is compliant and carefully climbs into his lap, one knee on either side of his hips on her bed. He bites gently at her bottom lip before using a hand on her jaw to tilt her head back, allowing him to kiss down her neck.

Eyes closed and succumbing to the pleasure he’s offering, Shepard is unprepared for when James moves again. He rolls to the side and pushes her onto her back on the bed. She lets out an actual squeak of surprise and James chuckles, still pressing kisses to her skin. With her legs still around his waist, his hips grind almost unconsciously and she doesn’t hold back her moan.

James peels himself away from her slowly, leaving a cold trail of air where his body had been on top of her. She opens her eyes and glares at him, but the smirk still on his face and the bulge she manages to catch a glimpse of through his pants, make sure no fear of rejection rises back in her.

“And where are you going?” she asks, attempting and failing to use her Commander tone. She tries again after clearing her throat and pushing herself up on her elbows. “You’re not leaving this room for a while.” James laughs and flashes her a smile as he keeps walking to the door.

“Is that an order?” he teases, pressing the lock for the door and waiting until it flashes red before turning back to her.

“You bet your ass it is.” She smiles back at him. She could have locked the door from right here with her omni-tool and he knew it. He was just being a teasing bastard. “You’re not leaving her until I say so.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughs again before coming back to her.

[myhockeyworld87]

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 4

Word Count: 8,133

POV: Jamie and then switches to reader

Warnings: Language, small amount of smut so we will say NSFW

Notes: This is hell long, I’m sorry. I don’t normally write chapter/parts this long, so don’t get used to it, because I’m sure it won’t last...haha! At any rate here we go with Part 4. As always I love your feedback, both good and bad, so hit me with it. Happy Reading! Also (Y/NN) = Your Nickname (Y/LN) = Your Last Name

Ruined Masterlist

 JAMIE POV

 Five days, that's how long it was until you saw (Y/N) again. Well, it was four days, sixteen hours, twenty-two minutes, and forty-two seconds, give or take a second or two. And why did you know the exact time, only because you'd been counting the hours since she left Jordie and Jessi's house. The dinner party had gone great, at least you thought it had, but then you hadn't seen her since then; not even a glimpse of her outside in the backyard or pulling into the driveway. It was maddening or maybe it was just you slowly going insane as every little noise outside had you wandering over to the window to check and see if it was her. It hadn't taken much to convince your brother to throw a dinner party on short notice, in an excuse so you could see (Y/N), but now that you had, there was just this overwhelming need to see more and more of her.

 Now, here you were, just four days, sixteen hours, twenty-four minutes, and sixteen seconds from seeing her again. She was to be at the practice center at four-thirty today, so that someone, that someone being you, of course, could show her around the facility. You stood back a bit, staring at the entrance doors just waiting for her to walk in. And then she did. She looked radiant. Dressed in a simple navy pantsuit with a pair of high heels that clicked across the floor, she made her way to the front desk. Instead of rushing out to greet her, you headed back to the locker room, where you knew the receptionist would usher her back to you.

 Your palms were sweating and suddenly you felt unsure of yourself. What if she was only playing nice at Jordie's and really didn't want to be around you? But that didn't explain how she'd laughed and reminisced with you about different things. That laugh, you knew it was a genuine one, for you heard it so many times in your dreams you had it memorized. God, you hoped you could make her laugh like that again today.

 You could hear her heels on the floor, so you busied yourself with one of your sticks retaping the blade, even though it didn't need it. "The team captain is in there, Miss. If you need anything just let me know." You heard the door open and then turned around.

 "Jamie?"

 "Oh hey (Y/NN)," you tried to sound casual as if her simply being in the same room as you didn't send your heart beating into overdrive.

 "I guess I didn't realize you were the team's captain."

 "Yeah, have been for a few years now." Your heart sank a bit in the knowledge that she hadn't really followed your career except to know where you were, so she could avoid you.

 "Well that's…," she stumbled on her words which was unusual for her and you wondered if she was as affected by you as you were by her, or if it was just her disdain for you, and that she hated to give you any amount of praise. "That's really amazing. Your coaches and team must really hold you in high regard."

 "I'd like to think so." You finally abandoned the stick that didn't need taping, leaning it against the wall before turning your attention back to (Y/N). "Anyhow, I guess I'm your tour guide today." She gave a weak smile and a simple head nod, which was not encouraging to say the least. "So, how about we get started? If you want you can leave your stuff in here, no one will bother it." She'd been carrying her medical bag and a few other things, but she handed them over to you and you set them in your stall. "Well, as you can see this is our practice locker room, pretty basic. I thought we'd start with a tour of the entire place before I show you the training room."

 The two of you headed down the hallway and back out to the lobby. "Obviously, you came in this way, but I'll show you the entrance you can use in the future. We're pretty much contained to this side of the building as you can see, but when practices are open, people can come and watch." You showed her the rink, from seat level, then headed back out. "This is the club lounge, if there's ever an event here where we aren't skating we use one of the boxes up there. You're more than welcome to as well."

 "I have to say this is kind of elaborate for a practice rink."

 "A bit."

 "I was expecting metal bleachers and…well, I don't know. I feel like this is more like the arena and then a practice rink."

 You chuckled, for you kind of thought the same thing, the first time you came here. Now you barely even noticed it. "Well, the boards are the same as the AAC, but other than that it's very different."

 "AAC?"

 "American Airlines Center," you hadn't realized you shortened the name. "Sorry about that. I think we're scheduled to tour that on Wednesday." It gave you another opportunity to be with her.

 "Yes, I have that on my calendar, but was going to see if we could change that." You supposed there was your answer about her wanting to be in the same room as you. "Dr. Ellis has a patient that needs a knee arthroplasty and he asked if I'd show him the technique I've been using. Less evasive and I'm having great success with cutting the healing time by half." Oh, so it was a medical thing, whatever an arthroplasty was. "If we could push it back a bit that would be great, if not maybe we could look at another time."

 "I'll work around your schedule, it's not a problem." If it meant spending more time with her you'd go to any lengths that you had to.

 "Thanks, if we could maybe make for like three in the afternoon instead of noon that will give me plenty of time because I have a feeling, he'll want me to sit in on his other two surgeries he has scheduled that day."

 "Not a problem." You took out your phone and made the change in your calendar. Thankfully, you didn't really have anything after practice that day but giving her the tour. "Shall we continue then?" She smiled, and it made your heart feel light. You took her to the offices next. "Down this hallway is pretty much everyone that works for the Stars; PR, accounting, our GM, our owner. You'll pretty much find them here." You stopped in front of a door and then opened it up. "This office is for you." It had a great view, well as much of a view as any of them had, but it really was a nice place for her to work.

 "Umm…this won't do."

 You blinked at her a couple times, there was really nothing wrong with the room. Everything in there was modern with state-of-the-art equipment. "What's wrong with it?" The words came out a little harsher than you intended but you really couldn't see her problem.

 "Well for starters, we're on the what, the third floor? And I believe the locker room and training room are on the first." You gave a confused look as this was Dr. Lundin's old office and he never been concerned about it being where it was. "It's just if I'm going to be working on you…well not you, but any of you. I need to be near you. I can be at ice level during practices, but if I'm treating you, my office should be closer to the ice." Well, you couldn't really argue with that. "Also, there's no exam table in here. I get that I'll be doing most things in your training room, but there may be times when I'll need you to stop in to look over something, or what if one of you need to see me about something private."

 She had a point, though none of you had ever really gone to Dr. Lundin like that. Come to think of it, he wasn't really around that much. He more or less made recommendations on where you should go if you had a problem. He wasn't necessarily the doctor to fix you. Seems like (Y/N) planned on being more hands-on, and you were ok with that. "You make a good point. Give me a second." You stepped out of the room and called the Jim Nill, the general manager. You weren't sure he was the man to go to, but you knew he'd be there in the building at least and could possibly offer a solution. It was a short phone call, as you expressed (Y/N)'s concerns. Jim was happy to help and said that he'd get someone on moving her downstairs to one of the spare rooms that housed equipment at the moment. "All set. They're going to move you down next to the training room. It might take a few days to get in the stuff you want, but if you make a list, we'll leave it at the front desk and make sure it gets taken care of."

 "Thank you, Jamie. I really appreciate you doing that."

 Her praise was like music to your ears, you could remember the days when you'd have a good game and she would go on and on about how well you played and you'd literally soak up every word that came out of her mouth. "No problem, guess we should head down there then." You showed her the room, which she seemed pleased with, then took her over to the training room. A couple of the trainers were still in there from practice, so you introduced her to them.

 "I hate to be a pain in the ass but would any of you mind if I changed the set up here. I don't want to step on anyone's toes. I just see a few things that could make this more efficient."

 "Sure, go ahead," Dave, the head trainer told her.

 "So, see these units right here. They would work so much better if you had them in between the training tables. That way two guys can be on the machine at the same time."

 "Oh, I see what you're saying." They went to move the equipment, it looked heavy so you helped as well. (Y/N) was opening up cabinets and taking things out, then moving them to other ones.

 "Is the AAC," she looked over as you to confirm she'd said that right. "Setup like this as well."

 "Pretty much," Dave told her.

 "Could we make these changes there as well?" They seemed to be a bit annoyed, but she wasn't deterred. "Bear with me for a moment. Say Jamie has a cut to his eye that needs to be stitched." She looked at you to play the part.

 "Ow my eye," your acting was horrible and they all laughed.

 "When he comes into the room, we take him right to the nearest table, which is here." You sat down where she gestured. "It's obvious, he needs stitches, but the medical cabinet is all the way over on the other side of the room, and by the time we get there, look for what we need then come back we've waist two minutes of playing time and we don't even have a single stitch that we need in." She was making a lot of sense. "If we had our sterile supplies here, and then individually marked and put in like this." She rearranged the cabinet as she talked. "Then when Jame comes in with the cut. We can assess it and stitch him up in no time."

 "Makes sense," Dave agreed. "I'll get to work on changing the AAC as well." He and the other trainer were done for the day and said their goodbyes before heading out.

 "Hey Jame," you noticed she'd started using your nickname and you weren't upset about it. "Could you move this table over to here?"

 "No problem."

 "Is something wrong?"

 Quite the opposite actually, you thought today was going pretty well. "Um, no why?"

 "You're favoring your right shoulder. I saw you do it earlier."

 "Oh, I think I just slept wrong on it or something." Well tossed and turned on it was more like it, as thoughts of her pervaded your mind.

 "Sit." It was a command and one that you were not to argue with. She came up behind you then, her hands going on your shoulders, kneading and massaging your shoulders and for a moment it felt like heaven, just having her hands on you again. Then she pushed down hard on a particular spot and you winced. "Tender?"

 "A bit."

 She came around in front of you and stepped in between your legs. "This might hurt a little." Hurt? God, she was killing you at the moment, as her body was almost pressed intimately up against yours. You willed your growing erection to calmed down, but apparently, it had a mind of its own. She moved your arm in a weird position, then pressed down almost under your armpit but not quite. (Y/N) was right, it did hurt a tiny bit, and you grunted at the pain. "Sorry." She went back to kneading your muscles, while you caught the scent of her perfume, or maybe it was just her, either way, it intoxicated you. You closed your eyes inhaling deeply, willing your body under control. You'd give anything at that moment to just wrap her in your arms and press her lips to yours. Would her lips be as sweet as they once were? Would she kiss you back with the same abandonment as she had that first time so long ago? There were so many questions swirling in your head, and you wanted to know the answers, but it was too soon. If you attempted any of this now, you'd take the chance of losing her for good and it was not a risk you were willing to make. All too soon for your liking, she stepped back. "Does that feel any better?"

 You rotated your shoulder and neck a few times. "Yeah, it actually feels amazing."

 "Excellent," a huge satisfied grin on her face, which only made you smile back. You felt it then, a shift in the air, almost as if her heart was giving way to you in some small manner. Maybe it was just you, but there was something in the way that her eyes held yours, the way they softened as she gazed at you. You remembered that look, had only dreamt of seeing it in her eyes again but now here you were, afraid to blink for if you did it would break the spell. Her watch chimed then, like the clock striking midnight in a fairytale. "I really should be going," she told you, and just like Cinderella, she was running away only this time you knew she wouldn't get far. "So, Wednesday, then right?"

 "Yeah, three o'clock."

 "Ok, I'll see you then."

 "Hey (Y/NN)," she turned back around. "Since we're heading downtown, why don't I just drive us both down. I'll show you the shortcut." She seemed to mull that over a bit.

 "Sounds good." She made a move to leave again, only this time, she stopped herself. "Thank you for today Jame. I really appreciate you showing me around."

 She called you Jame again, another step in the right direction. "Anytime, (Y/NN)." You sighed happily as she walked out of the training room. You were one step closer to winning the girl of your dreams back.

  READER'S POV

 What was wrong with you? You seriously needed to get ahold of yourself. That moment in the training room could not happen again. For god's sake, your watch had to chime to tell you to breathe, because you were pretty sure you'd stopped. There had been something in Jamie's eyes. Those big beautiful brown ones of his, that you could spend hours looking into. People always said the eyes were like windows into your soul, and if that were true you saw your own reflected in Jamie's. The shocking thing was, it didn't frighten you like it should. There was this small part of you that wanted to fall headfirst straight into him, but you couldn't. This time it wasn't just your reputation as being easy riding on the line. It would be your reputation as a doctor and a professional as well, and that was something you would not let him ruin.

 You turned over yet again in what felt like the most enormous bed at the moment. You couldn't seem to get comfortable and sleep was evading you, as thoughts of Jamie filled your head. Every time you closed your eyes there he was, smiling as he took another bite of cake in his mouth, laughing when you least expected it. It was all quite maddening and thrilling at the same time. This time you sat up in bed. Grabbing your iPad, you opened your one guilty pleasure and started reading the romance novel you'd started on the plane here. You hadn't picked it up, since the day you saw Jamie. It would provide the perfect distraction from him.

 You were about three chapters in when things started to turn a bit steamy, and as you read each line you found your hands wandering over your body. Your hands snuck up your shirt, wishing that it was our hero's gliding over your breasts the way he caressed the main characters. As the dialogue went on, you got more and more turned on, until you abandon the book for your own pleasure. Closing your eyes, you pictured the protagonist with his dark locks, kissing his way down your body. Your hands would thread into his hair, as he kissed above your panty line, before slowly shimming them down your legs. It was almost as if you could feel his warm breath against your thigh making you shiver. You let your fingers mimic his, as they slid between your folds, your pussy already wet with desire for him. He softly kisses you there then, his beard somewhat scratchy against your sensitive skin, but it was a feeling you yearned for. His long fingers would slip inside, moving in and out of you slowly at first driving you mad. Your hips flexed up, as you gave over to the fantasy, craving the faceless man's touch. You could see the muscles of his back stretch across his skin and you longed to rake your nailed down them as he thrust his cock inside you, though it was his torturous fingers driving you wild at the moment. You were close now, just teetering on the edge with the need to cum.  Rubbing your clit with your other hand, you thrust your fingers in out of you in a motion that you knew would take you to the heights you sought. Only your mind told you it was his fingers, his tattooed arm, his wicked tongue that was taking you there. Eyes closing tighter, as you fully emersed yourself in the fantasy, you felt the orgasm begin to build. Your legs started to tremble and your breathing was erratic, and then it hit and you were screaming out his name. "YES…JAMIE…YES!" Your eyes flew open, at the sound of his name echoing off the bedroom walls. It was Jamie you were picturing the entire time. He was the man giving you such exquisite pleasure. The realization had you spinning and throwing the covers over your head, too bad you couldn't hide from yourself. How were you ever going to face him in a couple days?

 Sleep was something that evaded you that night and the next, well not entirely you did get a few hours here and there. The only problem was Jamie seemed to creep into your dreams as well. There were ones where the two of you were laughing and joking and having the most amazing time, and ones that had you calling out his name in pleasure again as well. But the ones that got to you the most, were where he was with Caitlyn. They would be holding hands or kissing right in front of you. You'd wake up so angry that you wanted to punch something or someone, namely Caitlyn. It had you questioning why though. If you didn't have feelings for Jamie, then why were you so angry at some college girl who threw herself at him. The deeper you dug into that, the more you didn't like the answer, for it meant there was still something there between you.

 Thankfully, Wednesday came and so did your teaching surgeries, which meant you had something else to think about other than Jamie Benn. It was an early morning as most days in the operating room were, so at five, you grabbed a coffee and headed to the hospital. As you suspected, Dr. Ellis had you tag along on his other three knee arthroplasties, which meant you were walking out of the OR just before noon. If you timed it right, you could grab a quick bite to eat before going over charts and then be at Jamie's before three to tour the AAC.

 "I've got to say your method in that replacement was impeccable," Dr. Ellis told you as you headed down the hallway to the doctor's lounge.

 "Thanks, it took a little time for me to get things right, but as I said when you take that ligament…"

 "Dr. Ellis, you're needed in the ER for a consult; car versus pedestrian," the nurse told him, and immediately your heart sank. You always hated seeing these kinds of accidents come through the hospital. "It's a twelve-year-old, his leg is in bad shape. I'm not sure it can be saved."

 "Dr. (Y/LN), would you join me?"

 "Of course." The two of you quickened your pace as you rushed to the wounded child. "I thought you said this wasn't a trauma hospital?"

 "It's not. I'm not sure how this case got here."

 The moment you got to the ER, you didn't have to be directed as to where to go. Doctors and nurses rushed in and out of the room at a frenzied pace. It had honestly been a good year since you'd done any extensive trauma work, but the adrenaline came rushing back through your veins with a force of a good slap shot. When you entered the room, it was worse than you expected, you'd only seen one other case that was this bad. You rattled off a flurry of questions, to those around you, trying to assess the damage. "I think we're going to have to amputate," the chief emergency physician said.

 "Only as a last resort." You looked at Dr. Ellis. "If you're willing, I'd like to try and save this child's leg, but we need to get him in the OR now."

 Not even a second ticked by, before he said, "You heard her people, let's move." Everyone started rushing to get him prepped for surgery.

 "I'll need your assistance," you told him as the two of you made your way back, nurses following close behind.

 "Of course, anything you need."

 "Oh, I need someone to call Jamie Benn." Dr. Ellis gave you a funny expression. "He was to show me around the arena today in a couple hours. I need to push that back." He nodded to the nurse who jotted down the information before the two of you went to scrub up.

 The surgery was grueling, your feet hurt and your back ached from standing in the OR for over twelve hours, but it was worth it. You were able to save young Noah's leg. And while most of those that had joined you in the operating room were headed out for drinks, which they wanted you to join, you were putting back on the dress that you'd chosen this morning to wear for your tour with Jamie. Admittedly, you may have decided on it because it showed a little more cleavage than usual and that it was Jamie's favorite color, but right now you'd give anything to not have to wear it for another couple of hours as you walked around an arena trying to remember where the entrance and exit were. Though still you, glided it over your body and headed out the door.

 You thought about pulling into your driveway, but decide to go straight to Jamie's instead. Your feet already hurt from standing all day, and the heels that you'd brought earlier now felt like they were twenty inches high instead of the three that they were. No point in walking extra steps from your place to his. You rang the doorbell and almost immediately Jamie answered. "You look…"

 "Like hell." You finished for him as he stepped aside you let you inside his house and even through your exhaustion you realized this was the first time you were seeing the inside of his home.

 "I wasn't going to say that."

 "Oh, well I feel like it," you added. "But anyhow, are you ready to go?" You were standing in the entranceway taking everything in, the vaulted ceilings, the winding staircase, even the glass doors were things that you'd talked about with him when you were younger. It was almost a carbon copy of your dream home that you two talked about.

 "Um…well, I kind of didn't think you'd be up for it tonight."

 "Oh, thank god."

 He chuckled as you sagged in relief of knowing that you wouldn't have to put another ten thousand steps in. "I have an alternative if that's alright." You had no idea what he could be thinking, but anything other than a thirty to forty-minute drive downtown would be better. Just then your stomach growled, the sound seemed to fill the room and Jamie's eyebrow shot up.

 "Sorry, I haven't eaten since six this morning."

 "Well, then I think you're going to like my idea. Follow me." He headed into the open concept, kitchen, and living room, which was decorated all in white. "I kind of figured you'd be hungry, so I cooked us dinner. You still like salmon, right?"

 "Love it." You couldn't believe that he went to all this trouble. You could see the table set perfectly, and that he had a couple pots on the stove, which smelled divine. "This is so much better than the drive-thru I was going to beg you to go to."

 "Fast food, really? Come on (Y/NN) I would've sworn you'd go for pizza at least."

 "I mean well, obviously, but when you're crunched on time."

 "So, does this mean you're staying for dinner?" It wasn't in your original plans, but he'd gone to all this trouble, and well, you did have to eat.

 "I'd love to."

 "Great, I just need to get the grill going. How about a glass of wine while we wait?" You nodded, after the day you had, wine sounded perfect. "Red or white."

 "A dry white since we're having fish." His walk-in wine cellar was to die for and filled from head to toe, you couldn't help sneaking a peek behind him. "I didn't realize you were a wine drinker."

 He shrugged, the movement careless and carefree. "From time to time, I enjoy a glass. It's always better to share it with someone though." God, you'd said the exact words almost a hundred times. You loved your wine, but it was almost self-indulgent to just open a bottle and drink it yourself, so you rarely did it. He chose one, then came back out to the kitchen to uncork it. "I almost hate to ask, but how did the surgery go?"

 "It was long, but we ended up saving Noah's leg."

 "Oh my god, that's amazing."

 "Well, I don't know…"

 He didn't let you finish, just scooped you up in a hug. One that literally lifted you off the ground. It took your breath away not only from the shock of it but because of the way it made you feel. There were so many times you'd completed something successful in the OR only to come home to an empty house and no one to share it with, sure you had your family to call, who were always thrilled, but this, this was different. It was someone sharing in your joy and happiness, and you could feel it in the way that he held you that he was just as excited as you were. All too soon he put you down as if he realized he'd overstepped his bounds. "Sorry," Jamie told you taking a step back, yet still wearing a huge grin. "But you freaking saved a kid's leg. Like who does that." Again, he didn't give you time to answer. "You're truly amazing, (Y/N)."

 A blush rose to your cheeks at his compliments or maybe it was from the way he held you and you longed to feel his arms back around you. Either way, the room suddenly got a bit warm. "Thank you."

 He poured you both a glass of wine, then lifted his. "To the most amazing doctor. Dallas is lucky to have you." You clinked your glass with his then took a sip of the crisp chardonnay.

 "This is good," you sighed as you took another drink. "Would it be terribly rude of me, if I took these shoes off? My feet are killing me."

 "God no, make yourself at home," he chuckled.

 "What I should really do is run home and change into some sweats. If only my feet didn't hurt so bad."

 "You can wear mine."

 "Oh no, I couldn't." Because really, you couldn't wear his sweats, that would just be going too far.

 "Please, you used to do it all the time." Ok well, he had you there. "I think you had more of my sweatshirts than I did at one point."

 "Hey, I couldn't help it, they were just so….cozy." He laughed again and you found yourself joining in.

 "Well, you're more than welcome to steal some. It's not like I don't have a ton from the organization. Which reminds me, I'll make sure they send you over some stuff."

 "Oh, that would be nice."

 "Until then just go put mine on. You know you'll be more comfortable." He was right, but it felt a little awkward and you hoped he wouldn't read into it.

 "You're sure?" He gave you that look, the one that told you if you didn't get your ass into his sweats, he might kick it, and you had to laugh. "Ok, ok." It kind of felt like old times, only without all the bad stuff that happened, and god help you; you liked it.

 "Upstairs go to the left. They are in my closet on the right-hand side. Bottoms are in the third drawer and the sweatshirts are hanging up. I'm going to go throw the salmon on."

 He headed out to the grill, and you made your way upstairs. The bedroom had pristine white walls, like the majority of the house. A massive four-poster king-size bed was done in shades of gray; it reminded of you the bed you shared long ago once. You shook yourself, as memories of that first time with Jamie came flooding back. There was no point in dwelling on that; you told yourself as you made your way into the huge walk-in closet. It was neatly arranged and you had to wonder if it was Jamie being meticulous or if he had a housekeeper that did all this for him. A shelf on the left side caught your eye. There were photos there nestled with his colognes. A picture of when he was drafted sat there, along with one from when he won his gold medal playing for Team Canada. At that moment, you realized you'd missed so much of his life. All these major life-changing events, that had things gone differently, you would've been part of, or at least you told yourself you would've. You sighed, feeling a heaviness in your chest that you didn't want to explore at the moment.

 Turning to the right, you went to grab the sweats like you were supposed to instead of digging around in Jamie's closet. You found them easily then moved down to grab a sweatshirt off the rack. You didn't really pay too much attention, just grabbed a Stars hoodie then started to head toward the bathroom to change. Again, photos caught your eye. These more personal. There was one of him with his mom and dad, that brought a smile to your face. You'd always loved his parents. Another was him with Jordie and Jenny, and still another with just him and Jenny's daughter. It was the one next to that, that made your breath hitch and your heart beat faster. It was a picture of the two of you, one of your favorites from Canada Day. You'd been out at the lake house with his family, and someone had candidly captured the two of you just staring happily into each other's eyes, a smile playing across both your faces. You remembered the moment like it was yesterday. That he would still have this picture was just….well, it was a lot to digest. You'd burned yours in a moment of anger weeks after what had happened, but Jamie, well apparently he kept his and still had it on display. What did this mean? Did he still have feelings for you? Did he still love you? Moreover, how did you feel about him now, after all this time? There were so many questions in your head, it was making you dizzy.

 You rushed into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on your face. Part of you wanted to run the two houses down to your home and lock the door behind you, but that would solve nothing. So instead, you inhaled deeply, getting control of your emotions just as you would before you entered the operating room. There was nothing between you and Jamie anymore, the two of you were just…well, you were trying to be friends, that's all this was. You quickly changed into his clothes, throwing your dress across the huge soaking tub, then you plopped your hair on top of your head in a messy bun. It was only then that you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was a reflection of your teenage self, the one that loved Jamie with her whole heart, but you weren't that girl. You were older and wiser, and you were not about to let your heart get trampled on by one Jamie Benn again. Squaring your shoulders, you headed back downstairs, where you'd pretend as if you hadn't seen the picture of the two of you that set your heart aflutter.

 When you entered the kitchen, Jamie's jaw dropped and you knew he was seeing that same version of your teenage self that you saw moments ago, though he recovered quickly. "You look more…comfortable."

 "I am. Thanks again for letting me borrow these." You decided to not mention, how they made you look, or feel for that matter. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

 "I've got it pretty much under control. Just prop up your feet, it'll be ready in a few."

 "It smells delicious."

 "Thanks."

 "When did you learn how to cook? Because from what I remember, you could barely boil water." It was true, he was never that great in the kitchen, but from the aroma, his skills had definitely improved.

 "Well, when you're on your own as long as I've been, you learn quick." He finished mixing, what looked like some sort of sauce before drizzling it over the asparagus that he'd broiled. "Besides, I can't burn off a large pizza the way I used. If I indulged in that every night, I'd have even more of a dad bod than I do now."

 "Oh stop, you do not have a dad bod. Trust me I've seen plenty of those and you're not it." With his toned arms and legs, he seemed more in shape than when he was sixteen years old. Well at least more defined. In fact, just looking at his thighs brought all sorts of wild fantasies to your mind. Oh my god, you needed to stop thinking of Jamie like this or there was going to be another sleepless night in your future.

 "Thanks," he answered back to your compliment. "Though I will never live down the nickname Chubbs."

 You laughed, like full-on belly laugh. "Oh my god, tell me that did not follow you around."

 "With Jordie on the same team," he said while rolling his eyes and joining in your laughter. "Of course, it did. It's fine though, actually, it'd be weird if people didn't call me that."

 "I'll have to remember that, Chubbs." He raised his eyebrow at you before stepping out to grab the salmon. This really was nice, the two of you just laughing and joking, maybe you could be friends after all.

 "Your dinner, madam," he said as he placed what looked like something out of a five-star restaurant in front of you, before sitting down in the chair beside you.

 "Wow, this looks amazing."

 "Well, it's not the celebration dinner you deserve for saving a kid's leg, but it will have to do." He raised his glass again towards you. "To an amazing doctor." He needed to stop making these toasts to you, as they made you blush every time.

 The conversation at dinner flowed easily, like two old friends who hadn't seen each other in ages, instead of two exes. You reminisced about old times and caught up on gossip from back home. It was all really refreshing, and you realized that you'd worried about moving to Dallas for no reason at all. You helped him clean up the dishes, then you both moved into the living room to finish up the bottle of wine. "I was thinking," Jamie told you. "I drew out the AAC a bit, that way if you're schedule gets too packed, you'd have somewhat of a map to get you around."

 There he went again, being all kind and sweet. A complete contrast to the man that you'd hated for the past fourteen years. "That's really nice of you. Let's have a look." He laid it out on the table and started to explain what parking garage to use and where that entrance would put you once you were inside. He was about midway through when the knot in your neck from surgery today, decided to stiffen a bit. You tilted your head to the right, then to the left; in an attempt to work it out.

 "Little stiff?"

 "Yeah, sometimes long hours in the OR, make my neck not want to hold my head up anymore."

 He chuckled then moved back against the side of the couch so that he could rub your shoulders. "Here let me."

 "You know, I'm supposed to be the one helping you out, not the other way around."

 "Yeah, well humor me." You turned, giving him your back. His hands were gentle as they kneaded the muscles there and you had to admit it felt really good. You could feel yourself relaxing back against him. "Scoot up for a second." You did as he asked and then he swung his one leg up so that you were now seated in between his legs, then he went back to working on your muscles. "Better?"

 "Mmm," you sighed out and let your eyes drift shut. It had been a long time since anyone had taken care of you the way that Jamie had tonight; cooking you dinner first and now this. He gently nudged you back against him, as your body grew heavy. Slowly, you drifted off to sleep. What you didn't know, was how Jamie settled you fully against his body, then grabbed the blanket that was strewn across the back of the couch to cover you up. Nor did you know how he pressed a kiss to your head, as his arms slid around your waist. He knew that he should probably wake you up, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to hold you in his arms even if it was for just a little bit. Jamie told himself that he'd just lay with you here for a little bit, let you rest for just a few minutes, but what he didn't plan on was falling asleep with you.

 You weren't sure what woke you, maybe it was the light snoring in your ear, but you found it hard to rouse yourself out of slumber. You were just too comfortable, too cozy, too content, to want to wake up. There was just this safe and secure feeling that you had that just kept lulling you back to sleep. But slowly, you came alive. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out where you were. This wasn't anything new, when you were an intern, you'd wake up all over the hospital depending upon where you fell asleep, and moving to Dallas you still weren't used to your new home, but nothing here looked at all familiar. It was then that you noticed, someone's arms around your midsection, and that you were sleeping on said person's chest. A light bulb went off in your head, and you realized that person was Jamie. Obviously, you'd fallen asleep at some point, you just didn't know why Jamie hadn't woken you up. Instead, he chose to fall asleep as well.

 You should be in a panic, but for some reason, your not. It just all feels so…right. Only it shouldn't feel that way at all. You shouldn't want his arms wrapped around you like they are, and you shouldn't like the gentle rise and fall of his chest as you lay against him, and you definitely shouldn't have your fingers interlaced with his, but you do. You actually could stay like this…well if you're being honest…forever, and that scares the living hell out of you. It's then you decide you have to get out there and you start to untangle your limbs from him. The movement waking Jamie. "Mmhmm," he hums sleepily and for some reason, your heart flutters at the sound. His hands tighten around your waist and you don't cringe like you should, but if you stay here any longer, you don't know what will happen.

 "Jamie," you whisper. "Jame."

 His eyes peek open as you turn and look at him. There's a slow smile that comes to his lips, that just sends heat to your core. Fuck, you need to get out of here. Then realization dawns on him, "Oh shit, I must have fallen asleep." He's scrambling now and so are you. "I'm sorry….I only meant to let you sleep for a bit." Oh, so he didn't mean to hold you all night and make you feel cherished? Why does your heart sink at that knowledge?

 "It's ok, but I should really be going." You're a little stiff as you get up off the couch and look around the kitchen for your purse, noticing that it's five in the morning. "I need to get ready for rounds at the hospital."

 His hands go to the back of his neck, then comes around the rake down the front of his face. "I'm really sorry…"

 "Jamie, it's fine. I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep on you like that." You slip back into your heels then head towards the front door. "Thank you again for dinner."

 "Anytime," he mumbles and there's this look of confusion on his face. You can't decide if it's about waking up with you in his arms or if he's still not fully awake yet, but you're not going to ask, as you open the door and slip out. "Hey (Y/NN)." You turn back around the minute you hear his voice. "I'll call you," he tells you, and damnit if your heart isn't beating faster again, like your fifteen and the prospect of this hot hockey player calling you is just doing weird things to your insides that medical science can't explain. "About rescheduling the tour."

 "Right, the tour," you muttered and suddenly, it's not as romantic as it all seemed a moment ago. "Yeah, we definitely need to do that. Thanks again." You shut the car door so fast and drive the two houses down, which looks completely stupid, as Jamie stands on his front porch watching you, making sure you get inside ok.

 What the hell just happened? It's the only question you can think of as you drag yourself up to the ensuite in your bedroom, so you can wash your face. You grab a cloth and turn the water on, your mind trying to digest the last ten minutes. You just spent the night with Jamie Benn, and you're not mad about it. You're not mad about it at all and that's frightening. A week ago, you didn't want to be in the same room with him for five minutes. Now, you were laughing over dinner and falling asleep in his arms. Jesus, what were you thinking? You look up at yourself in the mirror and all you can see is his damn hoodie and sweats on you. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but instead, all you can do is smell him. He's on your clothes, well of course he is, they're his, you idiot. You swear when you pull your hair all the way down from its even messier bun that your hair smells of him too. And when you close your eyes you can feel him; his arms wrapped around you holding you close, and damn if you don't want that again.

 "NO," you yell out to yourself in the mirror. "No, no, no." He's not good for you. He'll break your heart. Your mind knows all these things and still, your heart is trying to open the door and let him in. This can't happen, you need a plan. No, what you need is someone to remind you how he broke your heart.

 You pick up your phone and dial your best friend, Emma. She'd been with you through the whole breakup with Jamie and remained by your side through every dumb mistake you made afterward. Emma had even moved to the east coast, when you went to John Hopkins, though she'd met the love of her life there and was now engaged. You knew it was early, but you also knew that your best friend would answer the phone if it was you who was calling. "Hello, sunshine," she answered all cheerful and it only put you in a fouler mood.

 "Really? How are you this happy in the morning?"

 "You know I've always been a morning person. Now, please tell me what happened with Jamie."

 "How do you know something happened with him?" It was truly baffling how she could just read you like an open book.

 "Why else would you call me at six-thirty in the morning? Tell me he's not breaking your heart already?"

 "It's worse." You pause trying to figure out the best way to tell her. "I think I'm falling for him again."

 "Get out!" She shouted at you through the telephone. "It's been like what ten days?"

 "God, when you put it like that, it sounds insane."

 "It's not insane (Y/N)." At least Emma didn't think you were crazy for possibly falling back in love with Jamie. "You two have history, like big-time history, and that just doesn't go away overnight. The question is what do you want to do about it?"

 "I don't know, Em." It was true, you were so conflicted about whether you should just shut Jamie out completely, or open your heart just one more time. You were hoping your best friend could shed some light on the situation.

 "Well, then I think I have your solution." You waited patiently for her to tell you what it was. "You know what they say, in order to get over someone, you need to get under someone." Had you heard her right, did she really just tell you to go out and have sex with someone random?  

.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🌎 CULTURAL DIFFERENCES 🌍

Prompt: Y/N and Baron decide to take a big step in their relationship and moving in together. Everything seems to go pretty smoothly for them, until they bump into some little (and sometimes fun) cultural differences.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Baron Corbin x Reader

Warnings: Apart from some cultural beliefs and cursing, nothing really.

Notes: I wanted to go smooth with my first fic with this giant teddy bear as a character. This little story is all based on my own country cultural beliefs. I’ve heard all of this ever since I was a little girl ok? None of this was made up! It’s written in both Y/N’s and Baron’s POV. Each scene is isolated, they do not complete each other. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Y/N, can you please explain to me why in the hell do you need all of this?” He lifts up my perfectly organized (and not so small) jewelry box

“Babe, please put that down. You’ll take all of my stuff out of order” I say as I’m finishing doing my hair

He places the box down and start to dig through the drawers.

“Jesus, babe! Did you robbed a bank to buy all of these?” He’s incredibly amused by the amount of different shapes and sizes pieces.

“Don’t let your eyes fool ya, Corbin” I laugh “Only the ones on the first drawer to the left are real”

He takes a silver thick chain with small discreet rhinestones on it and stares at the piece of jewelry.

“Oh, those are nice” I say “You can borrow ‘em if you’d like”

He looks at me “I would prefer to borrow these instead” He lifted up a golden bracelet with colorful rhinestones shaped as butterflies “What do you think? Should I wear these to work? Do you think they’ll match my outfit?” He playfully places the bracelet on top of his t-shirt, obviously mocking me, since I do the same thing when I ask his opinion.

“Shut up Corbin!” I laughed

“Why do you need so much bracelets, earrings, hoops, necklaces and rings?” He says

I look at him defiantly “Why do you need so many watches, cigars, vintage lighters and expensive cars?” I crook one eyebrow at him

“Touché, princess. My excuse is because I can, yours?” He playfully smirks

“Because that’s who I am! I grew up surrounded by women full of jewelry, lipstick and these” I show him my long nails as I stick my tongue out just like a child would

“I like those” He pointed at my nails “They feel real good when you pair them up with sweet moans begging me to go harder” He gives me one of his cocky smirks

“You’re so full of yourself” I defeatedly say

.....................…..............................................

“Hey baby girl, what you’re up to? WOW something smells really good in here”

“Oh hi” I look at Baron as he entered the kitchen “Thanks! I’m making dinner” I smile

“Oh yeah?!” He lifts a lid from one of the saucepans “What you’re cooking?”

“Nothing crazy, just a simple regular dinner. White rice, beans, some meat with potato and carrots, broccoli and cauliflower for salad. Plus milk pudding for desert, the same one my grandma always made”

“And that’s your idea of ‘simple dinner’?” He asks amused

“It is simple”

“When you said simple I thought you‘ve meant, meat and some bread or something like that” He vaguely said

“That’s like a snack, not proper dinner Baron”.

“It’s pretty common to have that for dinner you know”

I look at him in disbelief “If I ever suggested that as a dinner option back in my family’s house I would’ve been told to shut up and eat my goddamn vegetables! A proper meal isn’t a proper meal if it doesn’t have rice and beans.”

He laughs “Do you need me to get the beans for you?”

“Do you have it?” I gasp in shock

“Of course” He goes and opens one of the upper kitchen cabinets taking out a can of beans “Here” He hand it to me

My eyes widened “Please don’t tell me you eat this crap!” As I shake the can in front of his face

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks offended

“Everything Baron! If it comes in a can is not good for you! I’m talking about cooking dried beans, real beans. Not this pathetic excuse for a bean”.

“They taste the same Y/N”

“Have you ever eaten freshly cooked beans?” I ask defiantly

“No, but-“

“Then you have no right of opinion on this debate!” I huffed and he rolled his eyes

......................................................................

“What in the actual fuck?” I say as I got up from the bed.

I followed the very loud music coming from downstairs in the living room to find Y/N in some skimpy clothes, barefoot with her hair up in a bun singing and dancing to whatever rhythm that was. I go to the radio and turn the music down. Making her look behind.

“Oh you’re awake” She smiles fondly

“How could I not be with this deafening loud music? What are you doing?”

“It’s Saturday babe” She says as if that was supposed to mean something

“Yeah I know! It’s also fucking 8 a.m. and my day off! I would like to still be asleep!” I say angrily

“But it’s Saturday” She says again

“And what’s that suppose to mean Y/N?”

“Saturday is the official house cleaning day, love” She speaks slowly as if she was talking to a child “Would you like to take the bedrooms and bathrooms or the living and dining room plus the kitchen?” She smiled

“Are you fucking kidding me Y/N? I would like to sleep! Sleep until fucking noon damn it! Official house cleaning day my ass” I scream as I make my way back to the bedroom slamming the door.

......................................................................

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BARON?” She yelled

“Jesus fuck, you scared me! I’m cleaning as you can see” I say as I grab another piece of paper towel to clean the oven

“With paper towels?! Do you plan to bankrupt us and kill the environment too?”

“And what am I supposed to use to clean it?” I ask impatiently

She reaches one of the lower drawers and take a piece of one of her old shirts from it and hand it to me.

I just stare at her confused. She sighs before saying

“You use this to clean it, after you’re done you’ll wash it, put down to dry and once is dried you’ll store it back in the drawer again for future cleaning uses! That’ll save money and prevent more trees to get killed so you can clean your oven! Do I have to teach you everything babe?” She throws her hands in the air “Unbelievable” As she lefts me with a puzzled look on my face.

......................................................................

“Baron love, have you seen my purse?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve put it in there” He points to his side of the bed as he continues with his eyes glued to his video game.

“Ok, than- Baron!” I run towards my purse, snatching it quickly from the floor “Why did you put my purse on the floor?”

“Baby, where was I suppose to put it?”

“Not on the floor! I would like to keep my money you know?!” I huffed

“And what does your purse being on the floor has to do with you keeping your money?”

“EVERYTHING! You should know that placing your purse or wallet on the floor makes your money vanish”

“WHAT? Y/N, I’m sorry but that makes zero sense princess!”

“Shut up Corbin, you know nothing!”

......................................................................

“Baron, can you get the broom for me please?” I ask as he passed by me

“Yeah, sure”

He comes back with the broom on his hand “Here, I’ll help you” As he swiped the floor

“Thank you, my love”

A few minutes after I felt the biggest fear of my life becoming true

“Oh, sorry kitten...Are you ok?”

“Baron” I whisper “Please tell me that I’m getting delusional and you didn’t swipe my feet just now”

“Yeah I did, but-“ I raised my hand for him to stop talking

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks

“Yes you did. In fact, I’m never gonna get married now thanks to you!”

“What?” He chuckled “Please don’t tell me that this is one more of your crazy superstitions?” He’s full on laughing now

“Stop laughing dumb ass! It’s not funny and you should respect those things you know?!” I say annoyed

“Whatever you say babe” He dries his tears of laughter

......................................................................

“For God’s sake what is this awful smell?” I ask to myself as I entered the living room door “Y/N?”

She didn’t answer me. I decided to go on a hunt for my own woman inside my house, when I heard some mumbling

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Shhhh Baron, don’t interrupt me!”

“What on earth is this cursed smell?” I ask ignoring her

“It’s sage and some herbs” She whispers

“I’ve had a bad dream, so this will keep all of the bad juju out of here!” She says

“You know that will-“ As soon as I was about to remind her of the smoke alarm the little prick showed himself

“Oh fuck! I forgot about that, damn it! Shut up you evil little thing!” She says as she steps on the couch and wave her hands at it “Baron! Don’t just stand there, do something boy! Go get me a piece of cloth of something like that!” As she frantically waves her hands to prevent the smoke from going to the alarm

......................................................................

“Good morning kitten” I lean down to peck her lips

“Good morning handsome” She smiles “Coffee?”

“Yes, please”

She fills one mug with black coffee and give it to me

“Thanks baby” I take a gulp “You know, I’ve had this crazy dream last night”

“Oh yeah? About what, love?”

“There was this monkey and a deer. I was chasing them or something, I don’t know it was just so weird” I look at Y/N to find her typing ferociously on her phone

“Is everything ok, kitten?”

“Sure babe! I’m just texting my sister to mark me some numbers at the loteria”

“Why?”

“Because of your dream Baron! The monkey and the deer. They have a number at the loteria so who knows? Maybe we’ll gain some money at it to save it up?”

“But we don’t need money” I look at her almost laughing

“Still” She raises her eyebrows

......................................................................

“Yeah?” I scream

*Is she really gonna make me go down there?* I sighed

“Yeah baby girl?” I ask as I open the door

“What?” She asks confused

“What do you want babe? You were calling me” I say

“No I wasn’t!”

“Yes you were Y/N, I was in the bedroom unpacking and I heard you clearly call for me two times”

“Baron, I swear on my mother’s life I did not called for you” She whispers, all the blood drained out from her face

“Oh, then I guess I misheard it”

“When you heard someone call for you, did you answered out loud?” She asks with fear in her eyes

“Well yeah! I thought you were the one who was calling me in the first place!”

She stood up from her office chair grabbing a small glass bottle with some water in it. She toss some of the water on her then on me

“What the fuck babe? What’s that?” I ask slightly angry

“Holy water! You heard something call for you with my voice, and you answered! Babe that is a bad omen, that means something evil is walking around here...Oh my God” She gasps in shock “Xander! We gotta bless him with some holy water too, we gotta protect him Baron! Oh no my poor baby Xander” She runs through the the hallway screaming for Xander.

Soon after she returns with Xander by her side. “He’s good now, thank God!” She reaches for her desk’s drawer again and grabbed a spray bottle “C’mon Baron, we’ve got to spray holy water in all of the doors and windows so it will scare away whatever that thing that called for you was” She lives her office again with the spray bottle in hand and a faithful Xander by her side.

God, why on earth did I decided to move in with that woman? She drives me crazy! But I would be lying if I said she wasn’t fun...