#both because animals but also because leaving my bed & apartment and also because possibly sunshine (leading to less vitamin d deficiency)

[bowithoutadaemon]

I don't like winter. I used to not mind so much. But this year I am just so fucking done.

It's cold. It's dark. Everything feels grey and harsh and dead. And I would honestly like to just hibernate until spring please.

[i-need-air]

Hey it's me again ❤️

I'm just gonna whisper something in your mind (is that even possible?)

Having a baby with Hybrid Katsuki.

Just that. Imagine girl. Perfection.

Ok, real talk here. Every time I see a request from you I uwu a little bit bc I know for a fact whatever you're requesting will make me get so immersed and involved and I'm gonna 💕💞AAAAAA💕💞 while writing AND [lemmecatchmybreath] it happened once again skdjdkfkf Hope you enjoy and sorry it took longer than normal~

Word count: 1.8k

× listen 🥺 I already started and I'm melting, ok?

× when he finds out you're having a smol baby together?

× he freezes and looks at you in a whole different light

× if you're getting pregnant, he will definitely smell the change in your scent and will know even before you do; he'd be instantly by your side with a bewitched expression on his face, taking your cheeks into his palms to just soak everything in yet he's shaking slightly

× and even if you adopt [hopefully a smol hybrid], something deep inside of Katsuki, burried and long forgotten surfaces

× this is the life he always wanted, he always craved even in his darker moments

× this happiness, this fulfillment, this joy

× I absolutely believe he will diligently read and learn everything about the baby to come; will educate himself like no other, deciding to be the very best father he could ever be

× his life was rough and he was stolen away from his biological family, he will now have a chance to have his own and he will not fail you or the baby

× when you hold the little bundle of sunshine in your hands, head down admiring the beauty of a new life, he will stand there, again in shock, again soaking this moment in... so beautiful, so perfect

× will he ever tell you that? of course not; angry ass wild pomeranian—

× but his face gives him away every single time and when you tilt yourself to hand him his new son or daughter, he falls in love for the second time in his life;

× he burries his nose in the soft and fragile skin of the baby's head and breathes in, his instinct kicking in to defend, protect, care, look out for...

× watch carefully because once the baby makes a noise, he'll still, unsure of what to do, but smile so softly as the baby coos in his arms securely; that right there is the best image you can have of soft Katsuki.

× the first few weeks are actually horrible, sorry to break it to everyone aksjskdj not because he doesn't know what to do or does not want to help; on the contrary, he is so incredibly attentive but he also recites the books he learned by memory at this point and it's getting absolutely infuriating;

× although understand him, please; he wants to prove he's a good dad 🥺 except you wanna smack him bc he scoffs if you suggest something he isn't sure about.

× you will find him standing by the baby's crib as it sleeps; he's just???? making sure this is not a dream????? don't question anything though

× can we hc Bakugou with a daughter too? [ already established in the Hybrid!Kiri hcs that Kiri'd have daughter bUT i just really really like beefy men with tiny daughters;;; my heartttt;;; ]

× his little angel, no discussion, no argument, his daughter can do NO WRONG!

× he's very down to earth though, don't get me wrong, he just absolutely adores spoiling her

× speaks softly into her ear, the lowest you'd hear from him

× gruff, raspy, gutural voice ofter overused to scream now low and soft as he holds her into his chest; doesn't do baby-voices or anything like that, but calls her his angel then smirks at you if you're watching;;; then starts softly complaining and bitching about you to the baby 💀 all while rubbing her back

× omfg his hand is as big as her tiny back; guys, call an ambulance, I'm—

× Katsuki would be the type of little shit to pull what I just said then grab you and glue you to his chest too; he'd look down at you both, eyes shining in such adoration he'd take your breath away just before he continues his ranting about you;

× once the baby starts being more interactive, her giggles specially the ones induced by her daddy will make him melt; absolute diminute baby with a small wiggling tail clapping her chubby hands at her dad? his eyes would widen suddently, ears snapping high in surprise and he's taken back by the emotions overtaking him

× he's gone, man; she has him wrapped around her tiny little finger and you can't do anything about it

× instantly acts all in denial if someone is around though; scoffs to hide is obvious smile, placing a palm on his mouth to further block it out and tickles her with the other, earning another fit of giggles

× please, don't tell him his whole tail is waving from side to side

× the only clear giveaway apart from his ears and it's;;; a d o r a b l e;;;

× specially when your daughter also starts wagging her tail in response whenever he does it;

× "Hey, come see what the dumbass is doing!" or "Look at what she did" while showing you a video; proud pappa 🥺

× we're bringing back Proud Bakugou bc hIS DAUGHTER iS tHe BeSt; no, seriously, his kid is the mf best in the world and he will start this presentation with—

× now sit down with me and accept this: the baby; yes, your sweet daughter; mhm, that adorable screeching angel; mhm;;; she'll talk so early it's disturbing.

× at 6 months or so she's already saying mamma, dadda, kitty, woof-woof

× seriously terrifying how sharp she is and how she cannot shut up; for the love of gOd, Katsuki, this is all your fault... it doesn't matter, he just smirks as he has another reason to brag to anyone about his child

× did that street vendor look at him funny? "I'M GONNA FUCKING TELL YOU ABOUT MY DAUGHTER—"

× super-protective of her and fucking hates with a burning passion if anyone dares to do that thing where they match up babies saying "Maybe they'll get married when they grow up"

× hands down, no filter, he just looks deep down in whoever had the audacity and says "Like fucking shit they'd deserve her."

× drag him away before he throws fists

× he will definitely if you don't drag him away and you know it, they know it, the baby knows it and cheers for pappa, the whole world knows it at this point and they're buying tickets to watch the shitshow

× chest carrier and walks around with the kid like a boss

× man has shit to do, don't even dare to judge him;

× handles fits really well, he's impressive to say at least

× she's spoiled, yes and always has new toys, coloring books, whatever she wants but the moment she throws fits, he puts his foot down

× baby would be smol angery bb all adorable in all her Bakugou genetics anger and he'd just stare, tapping his foot

× literally waits in place until she calms and looks up at him with big, round eyes, puffy red cheeks and ears lowered

× mission accomplished; he nods then picks her up;

× and you're there amazed??????

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" lil shit still has a foul mouth tho, but make him get just as pouty and embarrassed as the child in his arms by saying something cheesy like "How amazing you are as a dad 💕"

× all rainbows and unicorns until she starts repeating insults and fr tho, Katsu almost shits his pants, fearing your reaction. Will, hands down, chill out with the insults even if he meant no damage with them; he has this unreadable expression on, a mix of shame and fluster, dread too? he's sorry, ok????

× loves, loves, loves cooking for you both and once the kiddo has her own special chair to sit at the dining table together, that's when he sees it: his dream

× you, wiping some food off her cheek with a loving expression, talking about your day casually, baby giggling while she moves her face away playfully; he loves you both so much.

× has these rare moments where, at the end of the day once you're settled in bed, he'd hug you tight and thank you in his mind for... for this... all of it...

× once she starts walking they're both a disaster

× seriously, do not expect the household to be silent ever again [ well, that dream was gone long ago anyway lol ]

× "Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?"

× rapid giggle running around from place to place

× "Oh, for fucks—"

× "Katsuki." you only need to say, catching him in his insults

× 😳 ... "Kid, come back, we're goin' to the park." Skdjkdfkl

× sudden adorable tiny fast steps approach him bc they're going for walkies!

× he is very careful with her and teaches her about stranger danger; also teaches her how to growl and even if her attempt is a total failure, small rawr leaving her lips, he's like "Yes. Good job. Now give it more heart."

× he growls as an example

× she growls back, sounding like a cute lil pup 🥺💕

× as she grows up, she obviously acts more like her father yet he knows when to stop the bad behaviors and it only takes a warning growl from him to get her to cease

× yet somehow you're the strict parent at the end of the day??????? tf????????? who made the rules??????

× starts calling her brat, squirt, lil shit 💕lovingly💕

× "your child" if she did something bad

× "Your fucking child kicked the ball into the vase and broke it." Aha, nice one, Katsuki. Good job.

× not to brag but her puppy eyes don't work on him but yours do; the problem is her puppy eyes do work on you bc she's the light of your life so if she wants something; she'll puppy-eye you knowing you'll get it for her bc daddy loves you very much 💕💞

× literally evil mastermind; didn't I tell you she's sharp? pft, she's playing you both so hard

× every day he comes back from work she runs to him at the door, tail wiggling happily behind her as she stretches her arms to be picked up and he always does, without a doubt, then proceeds to kiss the top of her head

× come out to greet him too? the whole loving routine is his absolute thing and wants to see you, have you kiss his cheek; he complains but adores it soooooo much!

× you have a family night; BONDING WITH MOODY POMERANIANS. Yes, plural, and it sounds perfect~

× even if it's just one of those animated movies he hates so much, he'll watch through all of it and make sarcastic comments just to make you both laugh; will grin satisfied asf if he manages to do so bc he's the best.

× will definitely want another kid, so how about maybe a boy??? hmm???

× asks you if you're up for the idea and if you agree, he'll roll his eyes and crack his shoulders, acting so very uninterested and purely exhausted yet his smirk would give him away:

× "Knew you'd torture me with another devil"

× throw him out, istg— 💀

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon: Weekdays with you

Snippets of life with Kiro, Victor and Gavin

F L U F F

🌻KIRO

[ Morning ]

Waking up is a struggle for your little sunshine

Sets ten alarms on his phone with 1 minute intervals between them

You sympathise with him, knowing that his days are packed with rehearsals, photoshoots, fan-meets, sneaking snacks into his mouth when Savin isn’t looking, running away from Savin when he gets caught, etc.

So you adopt a more encouraging approach:

“You’re going to miss out on breakfast. I made the pancakes extra fluffy today.”

“...”

“If you get up now, I’ll wear your fan t-shirt over the weekend. The yellow one with a hundred Kiro faces printed on it.”

“...”

“Didn’t someone say that it’s been a long time since we last showered together?”

“...!”

When he’s more-or-less conscious, he stares at you with wide puppy eyes and puckers his lips

You give in, responding to his antics with a quick peck on the forehead

“Go brush your teeth. You’ll get your reward later.”

He becomes much chirpier after freshening up and getting his kiss

Beams widely when you set his breakfast plate down in front of him even if it’s just a plain sunny-side up

“Miss Chips, your cooking just keeps getting better! Should we open a restaurant after we retire? You can cook, and I’ll be the mascot.”

Definitely demands for goodbye kisses

[ Afternoon ]

Kiro video calls you during lunchtime because just hearing your voice isn’t enough

He also wants to make sure that you’re actually eating

Cheekily slips in a suggestion for you to include fewer vegetables into his lunchbox next time:

“The vegetables deserve to live.”

On the screen, you see Savin whacking him on the head lightly with some rolled documents on your behalf

Props Apple Box onto his lap to show you its newest outfit

(pretty sure that golden retriever owns more clothes than you do)

The two of you seldom eat out for dinner because of Kiro’s highly-noticeable hair

“And obvious charm,” he adds.

[ Evening ]

Depending on how early you end work, you’d either cook a simple dinner or get takeaway

And also restock the tidbit shrine in the living room

After dinner, you and Kiro play the Wii Fit to aid digestion

But end up with stitches because both of you keep making the other laugh

When you’re unable to sleep, he sings you fractured nursery rhymes while stroking your hair

“Baa baa black sheep have you any chips? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for Kiro and one more for Kiro, and one for the pretty Miss Chips in my arms.”

“Kiro... it doesn’t even rhyme...”

🌹VICTOR

[ Morning ]

Victor’s alarm goes off at 5am

He isn’t worried the sound would wake you up because he shuts it off almost instantly

Knows you wouldn’t stir even if the sky collapses anyway

If the weather is good, he heads out for a morning jog

If it’s raining, he’d grumble resignedly because he knows it’s going to be an even greater challenge than usual to coax you out from under the covers

Since he has a head start to the day, he finds ways to add special touches to breakfast

For example, drawing pictures on the omelette using tomato ketchup, doing latte foam art, etc.

Spends the remnants of his quiet morning reading the business news and answering emails

At around 7.30am, he wakes you up with a string of ‘threats’:

“I’ll cut your company’s funding.”

“Your report is due in 5 minutes.”

“There’s a spider on your arm.”

Would literally carry you out of bed if you refuse to get up

The breakfasts that Victor prepares are divine in both presentation and taste

He tries to vary cuisines every few days so you wouldn’t get bored

He isn’t the type to demand for goodbye kisses

Instead, he sometimes wears his tie slightly slanted so you can fix it for him

He strikes when your guard is down, leaving you a blushing mess

[ Afternoon ]

Most communication is work-related, occurring via email

If you happen to find pictures / videos of cute animals, you’d forward them to him

Victor usually doesn’t reply

But Goldman has witnessed Victor smiling while using his phone on numerous occasions

The sight haunts him.

[ Evening ]

Picks you up from work and takes you out for a nice dinner

Enjoys a cooling evening stroll in the park after dinner to aid digestion

Towels your hair dry after your shower

Not-so-secretly enjoys your shoulder rubs while he works at his desk

“Oh? Is that a smile I see on Mr Victor’s face?”

“No.”

If you have trouble sleeping, he’d tell you bedtime stories

“Or would you prefer if I read you the very first proposal I received from a certain dummy?”

“No thank you, that would just give me nightmares...”

Gives you a goodnight kiss (or two if you insist

Tucks you in tightly so you don’t kick the blankets (or him) off the bed in your sleep

🎐GAVIN

[ Morning ]

Gavin is an early riser

He spends the first 15 minutes of each new day thinking about how fortunate he is to be waking up next to you...

...and also waiting for the numbness in the arm resting beneath your weight to go away

Thinks your light snoring is the most melodious sound in the world (apart from your laughter and the way you say his name)

Once he finally feels his fingers again, he carefully extricates his arm and heads out for a morning run

While he can prepare simple dishes like eggs and cup noodles, it’s his mission to give you the best possible start to the day

So he usually buys your favourites from a nearby cafe

After he returns home with breakfast, he tries to wake you up by shaking your shoulder gently

When he’s done with his shower, he realises you’re still asleep

Finally wakes you up properly after peppering ticklish kisses on your face

Sets up the table with breakfast and coffee while you freshen up

Sends you to work on Sparky

Gets a little pouty if you forget to give him a goodbye kiss

“Thanks for the ride Gavin.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm? Nope, I’ve got my bag.”

“[coughs lightly] ...Sparky says you forgot to say goodbye to his owner.”

[ Afternoon ]

Gives you a call at noon to remind you to have a proper lunch (while eating cup noodles himself)

Gives you a call an hour later to check if you have had lunch

Gives Minor a call right after to verify

(It’s Minor’s favourite part of the day)

[ Evening ]

Picks you up from work and brings you anywhere you want to go

“My evening is all yours.”

Winding down for the two of you involves watching television on the couch

He enjoys pressing random kisses on the top of your head while your head leans on his shoulder

“Mm... I haven’t washed my hair yet.”

“Want me to wash it for you?”

“Yes please.”

If you’re unable to sleep, he’ll count sheep, or talk to you about the future

Whenever he returns home past midnight after a long mission, he’d find you asleep, snuggled comfortably with his pillow in your arms

“Thanks for keeping her company, Softie.”

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Favorite

For Suptober Day 23.

“Sam, I can’t just tell Cas how I feel! What if he doesn’t feel the same way? We are roommates and I can’t afford for Cas to leave because he doesn’t want to be around me,” Dean said, laying on his bed while talking to his brother.

“If Cas’ money is the only reason why you want him as a roommate, then maybe he should leave,” Sam replied.

“Ugh, of course that’s not the only reason why I like having Cas around! The dude might be my roommate but he’s also my best friend! I can’t risk telling Cas the truth and losing him. I don’t know what I’d do without Cas,” Dean exclaimed, annoyed that his brother would insinuate that he only liked Cas for his money.

“Woah, dude, calm down! I didn’t mean to upset you. Dean, you’ve been crushing on Cas for years and you still haven’t made a move. If you don’t, someone else will,” Sam pointed out.

Dean groaned. “You don’t think I don’t know that! Hell, Crowley, Balthazar, and Meg have all asked him out multiple times. Thankfully, he’s turned all of them down.”

“So, what happens when he finally says yes to somebody?” Sam asked.

Dean buried his face in his pillow and screamed. When he was done, he answered his brother’s question. “Get really jealous and probably give the person the stink eye anytime they are around Cas.”

Dean could practically see the bitch face he knew Sam was giving him. “Exactly, so why don’t you grow a pair and tell Cas how you feel!”

“I don’t even know what to tell him!”

“Why don’t you make a list of all the things you like about Cas. Pick out a couple and come up with a way to spend some together focused around those things. Then, maybe hint at the possibility of it being a date and see how Cas reacts,” Sam suggested.

Dean frowned. “Dude, that sounds so fucking girly!”

“Then keep pining like a lovesick teenager and don’t ask me for anymore help,” Sam said, obviously annoyed.

“Fine, don’t get your panties in a knot. I’ll try, but we both know that all this mushy crap isn’t my thing,” Dean said.

“Well, if you want Cas to be your boyfriend, then you better make it your thing. Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later. Love you,” Sam said.

“Yeah, alright. Love you too and good luck on your test.”

“Thanks Dean, bye jerk.”

“Bye bitch,” Dean replied, softly. He dropped his phone on the bed and lay there, contemplating if he could just jump in a hole and let it swallow him. He finally rolled out of bed and walked over to his desk. He grabbed a pen and paper and started writing.

A few days later, Castiel walked into the apartment he shared with Dean. He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He drank half of it before walking to his bedroom and grabbing his overflowing laundry basket. He paused by Dean’s door before deciding to see if Dean had any dirty clothes. He opened the door and walked inside. He grabbed the few clothes he saw lying on the floor and then walked to Dean’s desk to grab the shirt that was lying on top. 

He picked the shirt up and something flew onto the floor. Cas went to drop the clothes into his basket before walking back into the room. He picked the piece of paper up and was surprised to see his name written on it. His curiosity was too strong to be ignored. As he read, his eyes widened with every bullet point.

My Cas List aka All My Favorite Things About My Roommate/Best Friend/Guy I’m In Love With

His hair. I love how it’s shining black, almost like a raven’s wings. Also love how no matter how hard he tries to make it lie flat, it always gives him a perpetually just got laid look.

His eyes. Holy shit, I could write an entire essay on Cas’ eyes. They are the deepest, purest, most gorgeous fucking blue I’ve ever seen. They remind me of the ocean when the sun is reflecting off the water.

His smile. I mean his real smile, where his gums show and his eyes and nose scrunch up. I love it so much because he rarely smiles that big. It’s like a freakin ray of sunshine! Although, I’ve noticed he smiles a lot like that when we hang out. Ha, suck it Crowley!

His body! Man Cas, has a killer fucking body with those broad shoulders, flat stomach, and them thighs! Oh my God, he could crush a watermelon with those things. Hell, I wish he would crush me with them. And he’s got a pretty impressive cock (what can I say, I was a peeping Tom a few times!) I wish I knew what it felt like to have it buried in my ass, man I bet he would fill me up just right!

His hands! He’s got huge ass hands and man I love to just watch him pick shit up. When he touches me with them, I get goosebumps all over. I just wished he’d touch me more often with them.

His voice. Whiskey on gravel and man the things it does to me! Man, what I would give to be in bed with Cas and have him order me around with that voice of his. Ughh, I get hard just thinking about it.

His fascination with bees. He’s so passionate and I love listening to him talk about how important they are for the environment and how they make their honey. I might not love bees, but I would listen to Cas all day because when he talks his eyes light up and he gets one of his gummy smiles.

His utter lack of understanding of pop culture references. I mean he literally gets none of my references but that just means I get to educate him. I love our movie marathon weekends because of all the time I get to spend with him!

He can’t cook worth a shit! That just means he loves my cooking all the more, especially my burgers! They make him very happy haha.

His baking skills! Dude might burn spaghetti noodles but he makes the best darn pies, cakes, and cookies I’ve ever tasted! The best thing in the world is coming home to a freshly baked apple pie made by Cas. It’s even better than Ellen’s (not that I would tell her that.)

He loves Sam as much as I do! Sammy means the world to me and to know that Cas loves him and treats him like his own brother means everything! Cas will hang out with Sam just as much as me and that earns major brownie points in my book!

He knows nothing about cars but he loves Baby! Enough said!

He loves animals. I never thought I would enjoy giving up a couple Saturday’s a month to go volunteer at the humane society but boy do I love it! I think I’ll ask Cas about adopting a pet and see what he says. I bet he’ll say yes.

His head tilts when he’s confused. It’s just so damn cute.

That damn trench coat of his. He’s the only person in the world who looks so darn sexy in a plain brown coat.

The fact that he will steal my clothes and wear them before wearing his own. God he looks sexy when he wears my stuff.

All the times we spend hanging out. Cas is always down to do anything whether it's going to the arcade, or the zoo or a football game. Hell we spent an entire day at a car museum and then at a natural history museum just so we could do what each other likes! Besides Sam, there’s no other person I would want to hang out with.

His personality! Wow, that’s a huge one but it’s true. Cas is the most caring, thoughtful, loyal, smart, funny, kind, awesome, brave, generous, etc, etc. Cas is the best friend a guy could ask for and I can’t imagine not having him in my life. He’s a freaking angel and I just wished I deserved him. I wish I had the freaking nerve to tell him how I feel because getting to spend the rest of my life with someone as amazing as Cas is better than all the free burgers and pie in the world.

I could keep going but my hand is getting tired and I’ve got work to get to or else Bobby will have my hide. Maybe, one day, I’ll actually show this to Cas but probably not. I only did this because Sam suggested it would help come up with a way to ask Cas out, but all it’s done is made me realize why I don’t deserve him in the first place.

Cas plopped down on Dean’s bed and just stared at the note, unable to believe what he just read. He sat there for nearly ten minutes trying to process his thoughts. Finally, he grabbed a piece of paper off Dean’s desk and started writing a letter of his own.

“Cas, I’m home! I figured I would make my burgers for dinner along with some homemade fries. Afterwards, we can watch that bee documentary you recorded,” Dean called as he headed to the kitchen. He smiled when he saw his friend sitting at the table, a cup of hot tea nestled between his hands. Cas had a real fondness for the stuff.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said.

Dean paused, Cas’ tone not the pleasant sound it normally was. “Uh, everything alright?”

Cas nodded and took a sip of his drink. “It is.” He sat his cup back down before reaching into his pocket and taking a piece of paper out. He unfolded it and slid it to the opposite side of the table. “Sit down, and read this please.”

Dean couldn’t help but eye his roommate as he took a seat and grabbed the paper. The blood drained from his face when he read the top line.

All My Favorite Things About My Favorite Person aka The Person I’m In Love With

Dean’s stomach was in knots as he looked at Cas. “Uh, what is this?”

“Just read it Dean,” Cas replied.

Dean sighed before looking at the paper once more.

       1. His looks. I am a sucker for blonde hair and he has dark golden locks that always seem to lie perfectly even when he just runs his fingers through it. His eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. They are like a forest on a warm spring day.        2. His laugh. He doesn’t laugh overly much but when he does, he has a smile that lights up his face and his whole body shakes with joy. I could listen to his laugh from sunrise to sunset. I’ve noticed he laughs a lot around me and it always makes my heart beat faster when I hear it.        3. His body! The Greek sculptors couldn’t find a better specimen if they looked. He has the perfect face with plump lips, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. Then he’s got wonderfully muscled shoulders, a wide chest, a toned stomach, and bow legs (which I find freaking adorable. I may or may not have seen his cock which is extremely impressive and I dream about wrapping my mouth around it and bringing him to orgasm.

Dean couldn’t help his thoughts as he read. “This dude sounds perfect but hell, I’ve got all of that. I mean my hair may not be gold and my eyes are just a plain green but I’ve got a pretty good body. I definitely have the damn bow legs and my dick is pretty spectacular.” He continued reading.

       4. Did I mention his bow legs? I know he hates them, but I think it just adds  to his overall physique. I wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around me any day!

       5. His voice. When he sings, it’s like water running over rocks. It’s clear and smooth and I wish he'd sing more often!

       6. His love of cars! He’s got the most awesome vintage car in the world and there’s nothing better than just going on long drives in her. I can spend hours listening to him talk about cars even if I don’t have a fucking clue what he’s talking about.

Dean tried to keep the scowl from his face as he thought, “Now wait a damn minute! Baby is the best car in the world and whoever this guy is can bite me! Maybe Cas doesn’t like Baby as much as I thought. I guess he was just pretending about enjoying our car rides together.”

       7. His ridiculous amount of knowledge about all pop culture related things. I don’t think he can say more than three sentences without referencing a movie, or TV show, or band. It’s ridiculous and sometimes talking to him is like trying to learn a foreign language! But that just gives me all the more reasons to have movie marathons with him so that maybe one day, I can be as savvy as he is.

       8. His obsession with cowboys! The man dresses as Clint Eastwood every year for Halloween! Need I say more?

Dean glanced at Cas, but he was looking to the side towards the kitchen window. “I want to meet this dude and show him I know more about pop culture than he ever could! I also bet my Clint Eastwood costume is better! I don’t understand why Cas is so caught up on this dude! I have all of this and I bet I do it better!”

       9. His cooking! If I could only eat his burgers for the rest of my life, I’d die a happy man!

“I thought my burgers were the best, though! Cas has said multiple times how they’re practically orgasmic,” Dean said inside his head.

       10. His love of sweets, especially pie! He would live on pie if he could and I love to spend all day baking sweets and watch him enjoy the fruits of my labor!

       11. He’s a family man and loves his brother with everything he has! They have one of the strongest sibling bonds I’ve ever seen and I’m so happy they took me in and include me in all their adventures.

       12. He knows nothing about bees but will listen to me ramble about them all day. He gets this almost dreamy look as he listens and it makes my heart melt to know that he pays attention even if it isn’t his thing.

Dean frowned as he thought, “I fucking enjoy Cas’ baking and I will listen to him all damn day talk about bees! Why is Cas so hung up on this dude when I’ll do all the same shit! What if Sam was right and Cas got tired of waiting for me, so found someone else that was a lot like me?”

       13. He loves coming to the animal shelter with me! He didn’t at first but now he never says no! Maybe one day, we’ll have our very own dog or cat.

       14. He has this small pudge above his waist from all the burgers and pie he eats that won’t go away no matter what! Again he hates it, but it’s the comfiest spot to rest my head on when we’re lying on the couch together.

Dean dropped his hand to his stomach and pushed against his own small pooch. Cas always used it for a pillow, but this mystery guy’s must be better. Since when did Cas go to the animal shelter with anybody but Dean? Dean thought it was their thing, but obviously he was wrong.

       15. His love of all things plaid! Like I’m pretty sure his wardrobe is 90% flannel and 10% everything else! Although, me stealing about ten of his old band t-shirts didn’t help, but they smell like him so I just had to.

       16. His necklace that he always wears. His brother gave it to him and he never takes it off. 

Dean wrapped his fingers around the amulet hanging from his neck. Sam had given it to him for Christmas when they were kids after their dad failed to show up yet again. It meant the world to him and if he ever lost it, he would be heartbroken.

       17. All the time we spend hanging out together. There’s never any telling where we’ll end up! It could be a zoo or a museum or some kind of sports game! We’ve gone bowling, golfing, and I even convinced him to go on a rollercoaster with me. He held onto me the entire time because he’s afraid of heights. Of course I went with him to a car show the following week to even it out.

“I thought hanging out with me was special,” Dean thought sadly. His shoulders dropped as he realized that maybe Cas didn’t enjoy hanging out as much as he thought. It was obvious that Cas enjoyed spending time with his crush more than Dean.

       18. His personality! There isn’t enough paper in the world to write everything I love about him. He’s wicked smart and has a great sense of humor! He’s loyal and kind hearted! He will help anybody who needs a helping hand whether it’s mowing their lawn or taking them to the store because their car broke down. He’s stubborn, sure, but he’s also brave and ambitious and full of life. He’s definitely the life of every party we go to! He’s the extrovert to my introvert. He’s extremely dependable and responsible. He’s strong but also gentle! He can be a little cocky but hey, he’s earned it! He’s the best guy I’ve ever met and I would never want to live another day of my life without him. There’s not another guy on this Earth that I love like I do him and I just wish he realized how much I care for him. He can be very self doubtful about himself even though he can also be the most confident person in the world. I love him with all of my heart and I just hope when I finally tell him how I feel, he won’t turn me down.

Dean dropped the paper to the table, unable to look at it any longer. He was barely keeping the tears from falling as his heart shattered into pieces. He had everything on Cas’ list, yet Cas had chosen another person instead of him. All because Dean had been too chicken to admit his feelings. He looked up at Cas and tried to plaster a smile on his face. “I hope this guy realizes just what a gift he has waiting for him. You’re amazing Cas and anybody would be lucky to call you theirs.”

Cas smiled. “Thank you, Dean. He is a pretty awesome guy, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

Dean sighed, trying to keep the bitterness from leaking into his voice. “Then why aren’t you with him? Why didn’t you show him this list instead of me? Do you want me to proofread the damn thing for you?” So, he was being a bit of an ass. He just found out the guy he was in love with didn’t like him back. How else was he supposed to respond?

Cas laughed softly. “No, I don’t want you to proofread it. As far as why I didn’t just hand it to the guy, I actually just did. He’s being a little dense right now.”

“Wait, what?” Dean exclaimed, his eyes locking with Cas’. Had Cas just said what he thought he said? Dean tried to keep his hopes in check in case he had heard wrong.

Cas stood to his feet and walked over to stand beside Dean. He reached for Dean’s hand and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s. “You are the guy in that letter.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times before squeaking out, “Me?”

“Yes, you. I saw your letter to me when I went to get your dirty clothes and figured I’d write one of my own,” Cas explained. He squeezed Dean’s fingers and smiled brightly at him.

Dean stared at Cas before reaching up and cupping his cheek in his hand. “You really mean it?” he asked as he searched Cas’ eyes for any sort of lie.

“Every word,” Cas said softly. “I love you Dean, so much it hurts.”

“I love you too, Cas! I’m sorry it took so long,” Dean said, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“That’s ok, we just have lots of time to make up for! There’s a few things on our lists that I want to make a reality ASAP,” Cas replied with a smirk.

Dean’s eyes went wide as a smile stretched his lips. “Oh fuck yes,” he cried before crashing his lips against Cas’. Cas responded immediately, sliding his hands into Dean’s hair and slotting their mouths ever tighter together. They finally had their favorite person in their arms!

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 12

>> Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N, Taehyung x reader

>> Words: 1,181

>> Notes: I’m going to upload a new chapter whenever possible. Please bear with my hectic schedule! You may leave asks and let me know what you think of my writing (:

Synopsis: You run into a rather strange man one night. He seems terrified, as if fighting battles only he can see. He seems detached from the world, talking only to a voice inside his head. Oh, another strange fact: he keeps talking about angels. You discover later that you were the angel he was praying to.

>> Previous / Next

**

I shut the door behind me as I enter my too dark apartment. I abruptly halt at the sound of someone whimpering. I follow the sound to the living room, wondering whether an animal snuck in to the apartment. My steps are slow and soft, not wanting to scare off whoever is making the noise. The closer I get to the beige couch in the living room, the more I realize the source of the whimpering.

Him.

Is he sick?

Is he dreaming?

I gently place my hand on his forehead in an attempt to feel his body temperature. He wakes up with a jolt, the startle throwing me off balance and have me stumbling backwards. I hit my ankle against coffee the table and scream at the pounding pain. The sound of blankets being tossed against the wooden floor and loud running fills the living room before I am blinded by the sudden lights.

I remain rooted, unable to move because of the pain in my ankle when I feel someone grab my arms from behind. I am guided despite the pain to take the few steps towards the couch before I am sitting on it. I stare into the wide and panicked eyes of the man living with me.

He looks beyond terrified and a part of me wants to control my moans and grunts of pain just so he doesn’t have to feel guilty and so scared of hurting me.

I watch him stand up and dash to the bathroom. It’s clear from all the noise he’s making that he is rummaging through the medicinal cabinet. He comes running back with a tube and a bottle of body lotion. He proceeds to squeeze a large amount of the contents in the tube onto his hand before pulling and rubbing my ankle. My fingers scrape against the denim as I tightly squeeze my pants to avoid screaming out loud close to midnight on a Tuesday night.

He continues to mercilessly pull and rub my ankle and to my surprise, the throbbing goes away. I look at my red, swollen ankle. What if I can’t walk tomorrow?

My job requires standing through my shifts and moving about with energy. If I am unable to work tomorrow, they’ll cut my pay and since Kim Leah isn’t over this month, I have to pay the entire rent. If anything, I need to work more shifts, not cancel work due to a swollen ankle!

He runs again, this time to my bedroom. I feel rather uncomfortable having an unknown man rummaging through God knows what in my bedroom and I strain my neck to get a glimpse of what he’s up to but to my dismay, I can only see as much as far as the bedroom door.

He comes back carrying a sock. He puts it on my swollen ankle. So that the lotion doesn’t rub against anything.

I smile at his care, feeling warmth in the hollow of my chest. It’s been a while since I felt this way.

He looks up at me with the same wide, panicked eyes as before. His eyes widen more as I gently cup his cheek.

“Thank you. This was very sweet of you" I say, smiling warmly, hoping I could radiate onto him some of the warmth he coated my unfeeling heart with.

His trembling cheek relaxes under my hand and he closes his eyes for a second before slightly reopening them. And then he does something that has my heart flipping at a 180°.

He smiles.

And this isn’t just any smile.

It’s different.

His lips are stretched in a boxy grin, his two front teeth, small and slightly sticking out in misalignment. His eyes crinkle at the corners, sparkling with innocent happiness. He seemed so broken yet so brave.

It’s too much of an analysis of his smile, but as I continue to stare into his face and soak in his happiness, I realize once again how sad his eyes look, straining to smile despite having a sparkle of joy.

It almost seems like it’s been a while since he smiled. And so I smile back even more enthusiastically to encourage his happiness.

We continue to smile at each other as the fireflies light the way to the dark, starless night sky outside.

**

A cold breeze brushing against my bare back wakes me up. My pyjama tee shirt had rolled up during sleep and left my back completely exposed to the wind coming in through the window I forgot to close before hitting the bed.

If Kim Leah had been here, she’d freak out and never let me stay alone, calling me irresponsible and careless.

If only she knows what I’ve been through. A window being open overnight as I sleep with both my eyes closed don’t hold a candle to sleeping at my own house with both eyes open.

Kim Leah and I have known each other since my first day at the university. It was exciting to know the roommate I was assigned to share the apartment with was also in the same program as I at university. We had the same classes all throughout the first year. During the second year, we only shared classes for general subjects together. We are almost done with our second year and Kim Leah might entirely have practical subjects for her third year, which means we would barely see each other with her having to go on practical assessments and projects.

I will miss her, but at least we’ll meet in our apartment on most nights when she isn’t outstation on one of her practical assessments.

She has always meant the best for me, looking out for me and caring for me in a way I’ve never been cared before. I confide in her about almost any and everything in my life. But I’ve always made it a point to leave out some parts about my mother because I don’t want her over worrying or tagging along with me the next time I visit what’s left of my home.

Home.

The last time I called it by that name was in sixth grade for an English essay.

It’s anything but a home. The four walls stand sturdy at its feet, but everything inside those four walls is crumbling, decaying and rotting away. The air inside hangs heavy with thick hate, no kind words spoken inside. The people that lived there and the person that still does are not even human anymore. Their last bits of hope and sanity have long left them.

I haven’t visited this hell in a year and I don’t plan on doing so. But I should probably check on her.

Already weary at the thought of her, I drag myself to the bathroom and stare at my disheveled state in the mirror.

A thin ray of sunshine seeping through the bathroom window falls on my eyes, making them much prettier and livelier than they really are.

If only she could find sunshine to make her prettier and livelier.

**

Tag list: @tae-n-u 

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Five

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

Reality Bites

TUESDAY

Gentle sunlight filters in through a small gap in the curtains, warming your face. Stretching your legs out as you hum softly, you keep your eyes closed for a few minutes longer, clinging to the last remnants of sleep as your body revels in the support and softness of the bed and pillows.

Finally, though, as the alarm on your phone sings a trilling tune, you push yourself up and roll over to turn it off. Falling onto your back, you can’t resist lying there for another minute or so, gazing up at the ceiling and stretching.

Pushing the covers off, you slide out of bed and slip your feet into the slippers you had found in the wardrobe, and cross the room to where you’d hung the robe on the back of your door. Pulling it on, you yawn quietly, tying the cord. Slightly dopey from your deep sleep, that is a miracle bed, you open your door and move to the stairs, descending as you wipe at your eyes and mouth.

Mmh, right, drink, food, shower and then—

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Your eyes dart up as your foot touches the ground floor, your hand tightening on the banister. You stare at Nat and Sam, sat on the stools at the island, sipping drinks and looking bright-eyed, possibly having been up for hours, and Steve, standing behind the island. They’re all looking and smiling at you in varying degrees; Sam’s grinning, Nat’s got a smile that verges on a smirk, and Steve’s smile is warm.

... and then reality.

Raising your eyebrows as you clear your throat and lick your slightly dry lips, you continue to approach, moving into the kitchen area.

“Well, good morning,” you say to Sam’s greeting, starting to make yourself a hot drink as Steve moves out of your way.

You glance up at him and return his smile, though, God damn it, you hate how you still feel awkward. Last night you’d eaten together and watched the movie you’d chosen, but you’d both just sat in silence, only speaking to make a comment about something in the movie or to ask if the other wanted a refill on their drink. Saying goodnight to each other had been... okay. Had been in the same vein as when you might wish an acquaintance that you desperately wanted to like you goodnight, filled with lots of exclamations and smiles, at least on your end; ‘goodnight! Hope you sleep okay! Don’t let the bedbugs bite!’.

God, I hope I can settle in today.

“Did you sleep okay?” Nat asks, lowering a mug of what is probably the darkest coffee in the universe onto the island.

“Yeah, actually.” You wrap your hands around your drink, letting it warm you. “Dropped off straight away and slept right through.”

That had surprised you as much as it probably secretly did them. You’d anticipated a night of tossing and turning and fixating and anxieties, but your mind was probably so ready to be unconscious it had let you easily slip into sleep and stay that way.

“That’s good,” Steve says to your right, his arms folded across his chest.

“So the bed’s good and comfortable?”

You glance at Sam as you hum an affirmative, lifting your mug to your lips.

You can’t help but feel slightly like a flighty, caged animal and the most sensitive being in the world all rolled into one with the way they’re all looking at you and asking how you are, almost like they’re tiptoeing around you. It just reminds you of the huge favour you’re doing them, how dangerous it is, and also how it came about because of you.

No, stop that.

You’d told yourself last night, as you’d got into bed, that yes, you and Steve are in this situation because of you, but now you have a chance to make amends for it and help him, so there will be no more guilt or self-pity, just helping. With that in mind, you lower your mug after taking a long sip and swallowing, and widen your smile a little, looking between them all.

“So, what joys do today bring?”

“Well...” Nat reaches down into a bag you had spotted at her feet and pulls something out, straightening and placing it, a manila folder, onto the island. “... we have your schedule for the week here.”

Right... the hard part isn’t over. It hasn’t even begun.

"Okay,” you answer, grazing your teeth over your lower lip. “So what’s on the agenda?”

“Like I said yesterday, venue, cake tasting and dress shopping. We’ve got certain places we’d like you two to go to so we can start to see who’s tracking Steve.” Nat’s only looking at you, so they’ve probably spoken about it with Steve before you got up. Part of you wishes you’d just be told these things together, then you wouldn’t have to take and process everything on your own.

“Okay.”

She pushes the folder towards you before resting her arms on the island. “We now have five days to identify and arrest them, so it’s gonna feel like a lot but, as we’ve said, very necessary and useful. Today you’re—”

“Woah, hang on.” You’d opened the folder as she’d spoken, your gaze drifting down the very packed schedule, and you’ve just reached ‘THURSDAY’. You look up at her, feeling your stomach flip. “I’m not doing an interview.”

Nat takes a small, quiet breath. “No, we thought you wouldn’t want to, but...”

Ah. This is why they were being so nice and attentive.

“But?”

She holds your gaze. “But you will both need to do one. We need all the social pages to be buzzing and the chatrooms going, and people will wait outside to get a glimpse of you both. It’s the best place for someone to try and blend in, as they’ll have prior knowledge of where you two are. By Thursday we should have a list of suspects, so that will be our final, large opportunity to scope people out and potentially seize them.”

You look at Steve, who’s looking at you, quiet, expressionless, and you know he already knows all this so he’s probably agreed to it, so how can you challenge it? He doesn’t say you don’t have to like he did yesterday, probably because you know as well as he does that you do, you both have to.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

This is to help him, this is to help him, this is to help him...

“Okay,” you reply after a moment, your gaze dropping back down to the schedule.

Nat continues, glancing at Steve while you’re not looking. “All right, it’s with America Today at 1PM, but you’ll both need to be there for 12 for hair and make-up. We can guess what they’ll ask, probably about how you two met, how you’re feeling, probably light things like that.”

“Will it be live?” Her eyes are back on yours when you look up.

“Yeah.”

Fucking hell.

“Okay.” Your heart is pounding but you know you need to start giving more than five word answers, because you do want to do this, you’re so fucking determined for this to be successful, and you can’t bear any of them feeling guilty... but from Sam’s shifting, Steve’s silence and Nat’s tightly clasped hands, you guess they already are.

Inhaling a breath, you smile. Closing the folder, you wrap your hands around your mug again and lean back against a counter. “Well, we’ll think about that when we get to it.”

If Nat’s concerned, delighted, or surprised by your shift in demeanour, she doesn’t let on, and even all the tips she’s given you about reading body language can’t help you suss out her mood now. “Good. There’s plenty of time to prepare and I can ask the producers for a general idea of what they’re gonna ask. As for today, though...” She smiles, and it’s probably just as secretly forced as yours is. “... you’re gonna go venue viewing and cake shopping.”

"Ugh, marvellous. No, I actually am excited for that,” you say as Sam raises his eyebrows at your groan.

“Good, ‘cause there’s gonna be a couple of places, but first there'll be the venue visit that we’ve managed to leak to the press.”

“Okay. Oh, uhm,” you start to add as Nat goes to slide off the stool, “I’d like to add drinks with my friends for Wednesday evening...” You glance down at the schedule, double checking that it’s clear. For some reason, all your evenings are, except Saturday.

How kind of them.

“With who?” Nat asks, removing her phone from her pocket and unlocking it.

“Dolly Murphy and Bridget Sanderson. I work with them.”

“Yeah, we know who they are,” she says as she types something down on her phone.

Of course you do.

“Oh, I like them, uh, as in both of them, I mean,” Sam quickly continues as you arch an eyebrow, a smirk starting to form on your lips.

From what Bridge’ had told you last night, they both like each other very much.

“Good, so... do I have permission?”

“Yeah, that should be fine,” Nat answers as her phone disappears back into her pocket. “We’ll work out logistics, but a night out—”

“Could help me relax before the interview?”

Her lips twitch as she folds her arms. “Could give us another chance to watch the people who track you separately, along with you going dress shopping without Steve. People who are fascinated by your relationship will want to see and follow you, people fascinated with Steve, in all kinds of ways, will want to follow him. With that being said, we need you to post on social media, too. Photos on your Instagram grid, stories, things like that so people can figure out where you are.”

“Right, okay.”

Off private we come, brilliant.

She looks at you, her features softening a touch, "Do you have any more questions or anything else you’d like to add to it?”

You shake your head before you can even being to entertain the idea of anything else. “Nope. Seems all good to me.”

You can’t be the only one who wants to laugh at that.

Nat nods before any of you can and rises off of the stool, reaching down to grab her bag and lift it onto the island. “There’s just one last thing.” Reaching into the bag, she pulls a small handgun out—

A handgun.

And holds it out to you.

You hear Steve hiss out a quiet breath as she looks at you and you stare at her.

“What? A gun? Are you kidding me?”

She places it between you on the island. “It’s just for peace of mind, okay, and for your safety. Just in case.” Her eyebrows raise slightly. “Do you remember what I taught you?”

Nat had invited you to the gun range at SHIELD once, probably about a year ago, after a spectacularly shitty day for both of you, to blow off some steam. It had worked, and she’d shown you how to properly operate some of the many handguns they had. It had been a fun day, the most time you’d ever spent with Nat actually, and due to her very thorough demonstrations, you still remember what to do.

“Yeah, I do.”

Steve looks at you, taking the small gun and holding it in your hands, stood in your pyjamas, slippers and robe. He looks away, and meets Sam’s gaze. The other man just raises his eyebrows, a silent reminder he can’t reprimand or challenge Nat on this.

Because they’d already discussed it in harsh, hushed tones barely twenty minutes ago.

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind, Nat?”

“My tests say ‘no’,” she’d answered drily, her arm resting on the back of her stool. 

He’d braced his hands on the island, arching an eyebrow. “She won’t need a gun, she shouldn’t need a gun, not with our protection.”

“I’m not taking any chances, Steve. We don’t know what these guys could do, I have to cover every kind of situation imaginable, you know that, as awful as it might be, I have to think of these scenarios and be ten steps ahead. This is a precaution.”

He’d pressed his lips together, knowing she was right, knowing he’d most likely make the same decision at the end of the day. He just hated the idea that you might need to use it.

“Steve...” Nat had licked her lips, exhaling a breath, her shoulders dropping just slightly. “You have to be okay with all of this. Even with the interview and the gun. It’ll make it easier for both of you. I’m not making these decisions lightly. Fury put me in charge of this so I’m gonna make damn sure my friends are kept safe, okay?”

He hadn’t been able to argue with that, either. He’d have gone to the ends of the earth for you all if roles were reversed, and he trusted Nat. So, he’d kept quiet, watched you, been the calming presence he so often needed to be, but he hadn’t been able to stop his reaction at seeing the gun, as quiet as it was.

He’ll make damn sure you don’t need to use it.

You place the gun in your robe pocket as you blow out a breath. “Wow, well, guess I’m one of you guys now, huh?”

Nat snorts as you catch Sam’s eye and smile, and she heads to the stairs, gesturing for you to follow. “Yeah, I’ll email you when there’s a recruitment drive. Come on, time to get ready, Miss America.”

You’d thought Nat was joining you to choose an outfit for you for some reason, but instead she just sits on the bed, letting you choose whatever you want and taking your phone, uploading a whole new, SHIELD approved security system to it that will protect it from being hacked, and block numbers you haven’t added to your contacts. She also gives you a more in-depth run down of the day as you change in the wardrobe.

The viewing is going to be at hotel, and she had chosen the place because A) ‘it is very fucking fancy’, and B) to see if anyone would inquire about rooms for the random date you’ll tell the person showing you around, the date of which will somehow be leaked to the press.

Then, you’ll have lunch at a cafe, somewhere you can see people and they can see you, and then it’ll be on to the cake tasting at two of the best places in D.C.

“... so don’t fill up at lunch,” she finishes as you emerge from the wardrobe.

Closing the doors, she sits up, having lain back on the bed for probably the only rest she’ll get, as you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“We should have you back for about 5, then, all right?”

You hum through a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting it out. “Okay.”

She falls silent as you finish up in the bathroom and head back into the bedroom a few minutes later. Adjusting the engagement ring on your finger, you push the bathroom door shut with your foot as she looks up at you from her phone with a smile.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks.” You strike a slight pose before finding your shoes. “Can I ask, why don’t Steve and I have anything scheduled for the evenings? I thought there’d at least be a fancy dinner or something where we would have to show ourselves off.”

She exhales a laugh as you sit beside her to tug your shoes on. “We toyed with the idea, but we know how much you and Steve like having your evenings to relax.”

Your eyebrows raise as you look at her. “Wow, you mean we’re actually getting something we want?”

She snorts. “You’re telling me you don’t want to spend all this time with Steve?”

Your mouth opens then closes as you pause for a second. “Well, yeah, but, you know, that’s not what I meant—”

Nat pats your hand as she rises to her feet, her lips twitching. “All right, come on, before you pop a blood vessel.”

Your face feels warm because she’s got that infuriating smirk that means she’s either sussed your feelings out, mortifying, or she’s just teasing you which is just as annoying. But... That is actually... That is actually quite a nice take on all of this. Despite the circumstances, you are getting to spend a lot of time with your best friend. 

You feel brighter as you follow her out and down the stairs, pushing your phone into your bag over your shoulder and closing it. Sam and Steve are still at the island, both sat on stools this time, and Steve’s laughing at something Sam is saying, gesturing with his hands what you work out is his latest attempt at trying out a new version of his wings.

“... Ah, man, I tell you, I am not paying Stark back for that,” Sam finishes as you and Nat reach the ground floor.

Steve’s chuckling fades but his smile remains as you and Nat approach, the men turning to you.

“You ready?” Nat asks him as she continues on, heading for the front door.

“Yep.”

Both men slide off of their stools as you come to a stop, hearing Nat answer a call on her phone.

“Nat’s gonna be tailin’ you two today, along with some other agents,” Sam says as he meets your gaze, rolling his shoulders.

“And what are you going to do?”

He snorts and points at the balcony. “I’m gonna try that pool out. Have a great day.”

“Ugh, I’m so jealous,” you call after him after he slaps Steve on the back and heads outside, waving.

“Me, too, actually,” Steve sighs, both of you looking out of the window at Sam, knowing how cold it is from seeing his breath in the air. “God, lounging in a heated pool all day would be nice.”

“Hey, we get to spend the day eating cake and having people stare at us.”

He chuckles as he meets your gaze, tilting his head. “Well, there’s no competition, then, is there.”

“Come on, you two,” Nat calls from the door and you both start to move at the same time, not wanting to annoy her by being half a second slower than necessary.

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you feel... optimistic about today, your smile easy. As you both head down the short hall towards the door, Nat holding it open for you, you glance at him, one hand in his pocket as he presses the button for the elevator with the other. 

As you hear Nat closing the door behind you, you murmur to him, “You know I... I’m glad to be doing this with you, too.”

His gaze shifts to you, a corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other and, oh, how you’ve missed that twinkle in his eye.

“Let’s give ‘em America’s couple, huh?”

—

“Fuck me, this is nice.”

“Yeah... I don’t know actually. You’d have to get so lucky with the weather.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

You’d envisaged a rather nice hotel, but this place is a fucking mansion. Four floors, you can’t remember how many rooms the guide had said but there’s far too many, the ballroom where they hosted receptions was ginormous and decorated, like the entire building, to an exquisite degree that put the penthouse to shame. The gardens at the back of the property are what is really selling the place, though, stretching on with immaculately trimmed hedges and lawns, gorgeous fountains and statues.

You and Steve are standing some way off from the man showing you around, sipping champagne and surveying the land. The champagne had been a nice surprise, the glasses having been handed to you the moment the tour started as a congratulatory gift and as a taster of what the hotel could supply.

You’d flipped the brochure open with your free hand as you’d gone from one room to the next, trying to find the price list. You’d nearly spit your mouthful out when you’d seen the cost. 

Then you’d asked for a refill, the man happily obliging, so beside himself with joy that you were both considering this as the wedding venue that he’d have given you anything.

Taking a sip, you lower the glass with a snort before continuing, “Well, if you got unlucky and it rained you could just be like, ‘hey, it’s like that song’.”

“What song?” Steve had also accepted a refill, but thanks to his serum you think the alcohol is only making you a little looser.

Thank God.

“You know the one, I think it’s on the playlist, ‘it’s like rain, on ya wedding daa-ay~’...”

“Aah, yeah,” he laughs. “If you were the right couple you could get a real kick out of that.”

“You could milk that story for years.” Draining your glass, you make a sound of delight as you point down to the bottom of the garden. “Oh, look, a little bandstand.”

Steve lets out a hum, nodding. “Oh, that’s a nice touch, people love that.”

“Great photo opportunity. Oh, that reminds me, photo time.” Handing him the brochure, you open your bag and pull your phone out, having to put three codes in now to unlock it due to the new security system, and then you open the camera app. Turning slightly, your back to him, you raise your phone and beam, tilting your head, and he lowers his head into the frame, his chin just above your shoulder, and smiles. 

You take pictures together all the time, candids of the other person or selfies of your reactions to the classic films you watch, but you don’t think you’ve ever really taken a photo like this. You never post a picture of you two on your social pages, respecting his privacy and not wanting the attention it will draw, but you have a couple of framed photos at your apartment of when you’d celebrated your birthdays together that you love.

“Perfect,” you say after you take the photo, dropping your arm and locking your phone, planning to upload it when you’re back in the car.

Sliding it back into your bag, you loop your arm through his as you huff out a breath, squaring your shoulders slightly as you head back towards the guide.

“You cold?” he asks, bending his arm so it can support your hand. 

“Just a little.” You scoff. “Who decided to have a winter wedding.”

He tilts his head, exhaling a mock-exasperated breath. “Think that was you, honey.”

“Me?” You give a faux-gasp in return. “No, darling, it was you. So desperate to marry me you don’t even mind freezing.”

He side-eyes you, arching an eyebrow.

You clock on a second later.

Your eyes widening as your mouth drops open, even as a wide grin lifts the corners, you pull your arm back, trying very hard to stop a laugh. “Oh, oh, no, right, no, I didn’t mean—”

“I think I’m gonna insist on a prenup,” he tuts, shaking his head even as you watch him trying to gain control of his smile.

Laughing, you feel the damn best you have in days. Looking up at him, your teeth graze over your lower lip.

“This is actually quite fun, isn’t it?” you whisper, conspiratorially, because should it actually be, because this is actually a serious fucking mission.

His answering smile tells you it absolutely fucking can. “I think it is. Free champagne, nice apartment, and, hey, cake tasting’s comin’ up.”

You groan with delight. “Ugh, don’t, I’m already so excited, let’s go.”

Practically dragging him along, you regroup with the guide who is still just absolutely beside himself. You have a little bit more small talk, are assured the entirety of the hotel could be booked out for you, they’d be happy to notify patrons who have booked rooms on the day to reschedule or stay elsewhere, which has you catching yourself before you cringe, and then he’s taking you back towards the building.

You thank him and say goodbye, telling him you’ll let him know your decision soon, (you and the whole world will find out together, bud), and then it’s just you and Steve, walking back towards his car in the huge, gravel parking lot. It’s quiet now, the hotel often has celebrity clients so no one really ogled you even when you were in the building, just a few glances and double-takes but very discreet ones, and it’s too cold for people to be milling about out here, even if they do want an autograph.

The front gates, someway down the main gravel road, won’t be quiet, though. Paparazzi had been waiting there when you’d both arrived and they’d had to back off as Steve’s car came through, but that hadn’t stopped the flashing lights and muffled shouts coming from the small crowd. You’d just kept your gaze ahead and ignoring them and thinking about what you might have for lunch had actually helped in stopping you from feeling overwhelmed.

It’s the same as you leave, the reporters now shouting if you’ve found your dream venue. Glancing at Steve as he eases the car on to the main road and you head back towards D.C, you lean your head back against the chair.

“Does that ever really get to you?”

“The press?” He glances at you and you nod before his eyes return to the road. “Sometimes. They’ve always been there, though, since I took the serum. It’s just something I got used to. Sure, there’s social media now but press tactics haven’t changed much, and I think once they realised I’m just a boring guy who only goes out for food and a jog they’ve eased off.”

You laugh, your arms folding. “You’re not boring, Steve.”

“By press standards I am. What sells more papers, me doing the same thing every day or Stark doing something different and exciting every day?”

“Oh, well, now, you’ve got me there.” You sit up a little suddenly, staring at him. “Wait, am I gonna meet him on Saturday? What has he said about all of this? Does he know? The truth?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t see the statement?”

“No, oh, God, why...” You’re fumbling with your bag, opening it, grabbing your phone and unlocking it, (God, this takes so long now), and opening up the internet browser.

Typing Tony Stark engagement statement, you tap on the first result that includes Steve’s name.

... Stark’s full statement below, released this morning:

On behalf of all the Avengers, all of New York and all of the world and the universe, Pepper and I would like to congratulate Steve and Y/N on their engagement. We couldn’t be happier for the couple and were delighted to share in their happiness with being the first to know. If he needs any advice, Steve knows he can come to me. Y/N, may God help you. 

You groan as you lower your phone. “Oh, he knows, doesn’t he...”

“Yep.” You can hear the amusement in Steve’s tone even before you look at him. “Fury thinks he hacks into the SHIELD system every now and then just to have a look around. He knows about the threat, he and I have spoken about it, so we think he just connected the dots.”

“Well, he is a smart guy,” you mutter; the understatement of the century.

Steve drops a hand from the wheel, resting it on his thigh. “He’d probably’ve been told anyway, there has been a threat made against his building and party so Nat’s gonna work with him on security.”

“That’s comforting, at least.” Placing your bag in your lap, you place your phone back inside, being careful to tilt the bag away from him slightly so he can’t see that you brought the gun Nat had given you. 

Just in case.

Zipping your bag shut and placing it on the floor, you sit back and put the radio on, both of you soon humming along to it, Steve’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

The rest of the journey is comfortably quiet, both of you just listening to the radio and commenting every now and then on a song or singing along. A glance in the wing mirror every now and then tells you a couple of news vans and cars are following but Nat had told you to expect that and that a couple of the cars would have an agent in. They fall back somewhat as you return to the city, traffic starting to grow.

By the time you reach the cafe you can’t see any of them but you know it won’t be long before they catch up.

Well, ‘cafe’.

Nat had called it a ‘cafe’, but you would have called it a ‘fancy bistro that you, Dolly and Bridge’ would go to either on pay-day or for very special occasions’. It’s all leather booths and low, dim lighting, with black and white photographs on the walls of different places around the world along with quotes in neon lights. It even has a valet. Nat had made a reservation, though, so they’re expecting you and you’re greeted by name as you enter, the waitress beaming. She’s lovely, though, introduces herself as Charlie and is genuine in her asking of how your day is going as she leads you to the table Nat had booked for you; a booth up in the furthest corner with no other tables close to it.

After ordering your drinks and food, and snapping a quick picture because you know Bridge’ will love the interior here, you’re left alone, an indication that this place also probably serves celebrity patrons. 

With these prices I wouldn’t be surprised.

Due to the time of day, and it being a weekday, it’s quiet, the few people here either older or seemingly having business lunches. They’re all sitting quite far away from you two, but maybe Nat had requested the tables around you be kept free, probably compensating them quite handsomely for it.

It gives you a chance to talk freely, though, which is nice, but you still keep your voice low.

“This is a nice place,” you murmur as you sit back, your hands falling into your lap, “We need to start going to more upmarket places.”

He arches an eyebrow, one arm resting on the table, the elbow on the other placed on it, his hand supporting his jaw as he feigns hurt. “You don’t like our diner?”

“I love our diner, are you kidding. No, I just...” You blow a breath out, shaking your head. “I was gonna say I wish we went out more, for dinner or lunch or even breakfast, but, no, I like it when we stay in and cook.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah, me, too.”

 You shrug. “Maybe we should get out more, though.” You then tilt your head. “Oh, but I like staying in. Am I making any sense?”

He exhales a laugh as he nods. “Uh, yeah, a little.” His features soften. “I understand. I like going out, too, sometimes, and feeling, well, I can’t say this in any way that doesn’t sound self-pitying, but feeling normal.”

That makes your chest ache.

“No, I know what you mean.” You widen your smile. “Do you remember that bar we went to, in the summer? The one Sam took us to? I liked that place.”

“Oh, yeah, I liked that place, too. Great prices on beer.”

Your lips twitch and you continue, “Maybe we could go to more places like that, find bars and restaurants that have people that will just... leave us be.”

“Yeah,” he nods after a moment.

Charlie returns with your drinks then, and you don’t catch that his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he sits back. After you thank her and she leaves, he says after a short pause as you both take a sip, making his smile widen and his eyebrows raising, “We should start to plan what we’re gonna say for the interview, we can probably predict the most basic questions they’ll ask.”

You catch yourself before you pull a face, lowering your drink and swallowing, licking your lips. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

  You discuss the finer details as your food arrives and you eat, the irony not lost on you and your whispering brain that yeah, you had started to develop feelings for him as you’d grown closer over the years.

But we’re not thinking about that right now.

When you finish your food and just about finalise your story, though, you’re actually quite relieved it’s quite close to the truth, it’ll make it all easier to remember. Charlie approaches with the receipt in a gold tray and places it between you, prompting you to nudge it towards him.

“Oh, he’s paying.”

“Oh, it’s already been taken care of,” she smiles, clasping her hands together.

Both of you look at her, your eyebrows raising.

“Has it?” Steve asks, and you suspect Nat is the culprit, but why—

She turns and points to a table a little way away. “That couple over there have settled the bill.”

You and Steve crane your necks to follow the direction of her finger. An elderly man and woman sit at a table, looking over and smiling warmly. The man formally salutes Steve, who, you see in the corner of your eye, returns it.

As you glance up at her, she continues, “The gentleman said you were his hero growing up, Mr Rogers, and that his father served during the war.”

Steve looks at her after a moment. “Can we pay for their meal?”

“They've already settled their bill, too.”

You watch Steve return his gaze to the couple, nodding and returning their wide, warm smile as Charlie steps away, but you can see the slightly helpless look that washes over him, knowing he’ll want to repay the debt and display his gratitude in a meaningful way.

Leaning forward, you murmur, “Go and say hello.”

His gaze darts to you. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” you smile, your features soft. “Go. They’ve been very polite but I think talking to you will make their week.”

He nods, and you know he’ll have needed that little push, that assurance that he could give something back. You watch him as he slides out of the booth and makes his way over, your smile growing as the man touches the woman’s hand and his eyes widen.

You watch them introduce themselves to Steve and shake his hand, and watch them laugh as they talk, watch Steve, relaxed and easy. A sense of pride suddenly starts to bloom within you, your stomach flipping slightly.

Your phone vibrating pulls your attention away, and you open your bag, pulling it out and unlocking it. A message from Aaron greets you. You’d swapped numbers, you finding Instagram too intimidating and daunting to go on much now, and it just makes it easier.

I hope your day’s going okay

You smile lightly, your teeth grazing over your lower lip as you reply. Putting your phone away, when you look back up, their conversation seems to be ending as Steve shakes their hands again, and then he points to you.

You smile widely and wave as they do and mouth, “Thank you so much.”

They just wave their hands dismissively, beaming. Steve returns to you as they gather their things and move towards the exit, a smile lingering on his lips.

“They seemed really nice,” you say as you get to your feet, shouldering your bag.

“They were really nice, that was a good conversation.” He continues as you both head for the exit, too, “Told me all about his dad, how he was nearly stationed near me but then he got injured.” Both of you pause as Charlie brings you your coats and you thank her for the service, both of you handing her a few notes for a tip which makes her beam.

“He was a lovely guy, he and his wife,” he says as you step out into the small porch area, adjusting your coats, Steve handing his ticket to the valet, who races off to retrieve his car. Paparazzi have spotted you, but the bistro has a small gate and hedges up, blocking them from your view. 

Looking up at him, you smile again as he does, sliding his hands into his pockets, “He congratulated me on our engagement, too, said I’m a lucky man.”

You give a faux-smug smirk even as you feel heat rise on your cheeks. “Well, duh.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you, knew it would go to your head.”

You laugh as he shakes his head, the smile rising on his lips.

“Well, you did, and I’m gonna hang on to it forever.”

You hang on to it as the valet returns and you and Steve head outside, ignoring the shouts of the paparazzi and their snapping cameras once more, (hey, this is surprisingly easy), and for the ride over to the first cake shop.

It’s just as fancy as the hotel and bistro had been, but you get the sense Nat has chosen them not for their aesthetic qualities but more for the structure and layout of their buildings. The hotel had tall gates, the front one far from the building, the bistro had gates and hedges to obscure the door, and barely any windows, and the cake shop is nearly identical to the bistro, immaculate, neat hedges at the front, a small entrance-way between them, and floor to ceiling windows only on the front wall of the store. It’s connected to another shop on one side, the other a sidewalk, so Steve is able to park right outside, giving you the opportunity to dart across the pavement, through the entrance-way and straight into the store.

No reporters or citizens were waiting for you outside, which is excellent so you automatically like the shop very much, (no snitches here, wonderful), though you know that’ll soon change, as it has to.

Think about cakes, please.

As you enter the store, an older woman approaches with a wide, warm smile and greets you by name, (I could get used to this), and directs you towards a small, grey table, giving you a moment to take a seat. You glance up and meet the gaze of the other two couples here, one looking away quickly and whispering to each other, the other smiling at you a little shyly. You return it with a wide smile, and a slight raising of your eyebrows, a look of almost, ‘Look at us, huh, choosing our wedding cakes, how exciting’.

And, God, this is; you can see samples of the cakes behind a glass display window, freshly made and brightly lit, and photographs on the walls of some of their favourite creations. The interior is also gorgeous, industrial with a classy edge.

The woman, Damilola, she introduced herself as, places a book before you that lists their flavours, some you’ve never even heard of, styles, decorations, previous creations, prices and a page with a classy version of ‘create your own’. She takes a seat with you and is delightful and warm, and you feel bad for thinking for a moment or two if it’s an act to keep clients happy.

Then again, if I worked in a cake shop I’d be happy all the time.

This is by far the easiest thing you’ve done all day, maybe in your life, you and Steve both genuinely interested in the process and asking her how long she’s worked here, (30 years and she’s the manager), and she isn’t surprised when you ask for a sample of nearly every flavour, in fact she seems quite relieved.

“People tend to go for what they know and never really experiment or try anything new.”

Lady, you’re in luck; I’m still hungry and I’m gonna get what I can out of this.

You’re given a little card book to make a note of what you liked and didn’t like but it’s barely given a glance as you and Steve tuck in to the long plates that Damilola has placed down. She’s leaves you be, so you’re free to groan, albeit quietly, with delight at nearly every mouthful. Not every one’s a winner but, hey, it’s free cake.

“Mmh, oh, Steve...” you groan after a particularly divine slice and lick the crumbs from your lips.

He just nods and hums in return, scooping up every little crumb he can with his tiny fork.

Leaning a little closer, you whisper, “I’m so in love with this place, I’m gonna buy an end of engagement cake after this, and you can expect all your birthday cakes to be from here.”

Wiping his mouth, he sits back and nods, blowing out a breath of satisfaction. “I’m not gonna complain about that. Can my birthday be every week?”

You nod enthusiastically as you lick your lips again. “Gotta start making up for some, right?”

He laughs as you smile, putting your fork down and pushing your plate away.

“Perfect, we’ve got an air-tight reason. Should we take some samples back to the apartment? Or take some from the next place?”

“Oh my God, I forgot there’s gonna be another.” You pat your stomach as you sit back, knowing you’re full... but... “... We can take some samples from here. For the sake of comparison.”

“Absolutely, the sake of comparison...” He’s already lifting his hand to get Damilola’s attention, and when she approaches with a warm smile, he orders a slice of everything you liked to go. 

Again, she’s not surprised, but smiles rather knowingly. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“So good—”

“Honestly so delicious—”

“... Heaven...”

“... Don’t think I’ve had a better selection of cakes in my life...”

She laughs at you and Steve talking over each and heads off to box them up for you.

Resting your chin in your palm with a contented sigh, you look over at him with a smile, lowering your voice. “I have really enjoyed today.”

He looks at you and holds your gaze, one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Me, too. It hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

You follow his eye-line that briefly lifts to look out of the front windows, the tops of peoples heads and cameras just able to be seen over the hedges.

“No,” you answer, dropping your hand onto the table. “What was your favourite cake?”

He blinks slightly as your swift conversation change but doesn’t say anything, raising his eyebrows as he links his fingers together over his stomach. “Oh, now that is a tough question that’s gonna take some more sampling to determine.”

“You’re damn right there, Rogers.” Your smile widening, you look up to Damilola as she returns with two medium-sized boxes. 

You both thank her warmly and greatly as you pull your coats on and take the boxes, moving towards the exit, and ask her to give your compliments to the bakers, who have been peering out of the kitchen every few moments to get a look at Steve and see your reactions.

She promises to and that you’re welcome back any time and she looks forward to hearing your decision. You say your goodbyes as she holds the door open for you, each of you holding a box, and you step out and—

The crowd has grown. A lot. 

Swallowing lightly, you follow after Steve as you head towards it, barely able to see his car, and you lower your head slightly as you start to push through because they don’t part. Your photo from the hotel and one you took of the interior of the bistro, both of which you’d uploaded during the car rides, has obviously indicated you and Steve are out and about and are now in the city, and even if you hadn’t been uploading them, you know you’re being tailed by various media outlets and citizens. Your movements are probably being reported minute by minute.

... I wonder what people are saying.

No, stop it.

It’s too late, though. That thought, that one little thought, has embedded in your mind and just like that, the mental wall you had put up comes crumbling down.

“... comment on how you’re feeling...”

“... when’s the date set for...”

“... is it true it’s going to be...”

“... do you have anything to say about the article in the...”

“... using Steve to further your career...”

You’re listening to them now, seeing them, really seeing them. The whole day you’ve forced your mind to be blank, to think of something else, to just stare and move on, on, on, almost akin to dissociating, but you’ve lost it now and it’s overwhelming.

You’re staring into the faces of wide-eyed, shouting people, microphones and cameras, flashing lights making you blink and narrow your eyes. You realise suddenly that Steve’s taken your free hand with his and is trying to keep you close behind him, pulling you through the crowd. Some people are shouting at others, telling them to give you space, actually pushing them back, but this is so much worse than when you’d left your apartment, your actual apartment, your home, oh my God, I want to go home...

Damilola has come out of the shop to ask the crowd to move back, saying they’re blocking the way for their customers, but she can only do so much, and her voice is just barely able to be heard above the sound.

“Come on, guys, can you let us through?” you hear Steve saying, frustration seeping into his tone.

Someone in this crowd wants him dead. 

The thought comes out of nowhere, so suddenly and so sharply that a rush of breath escapes you. You don’t realise your hand is squeezing his, your nails digging into his skin.

Suddenly, he’s pulling you in front of him, his arm around your back and you realise you’re at the car, and somewhere far in your mind you’re so fucking grateful he thought ahead and parked with the passenger side against the curb. You’re pressed tight between him and the car, your back against his chest, and his arms are either side of you, shielding you in as he opens the door, moving back with you to give you space to get in. You do and as he slams the door shut you close your eyes, feeling for the seatbelt and securing it. You keep them closed even as people tap against the window, even as you hear Steve telling them to back off as he makes his way around the car, even as they keep on shouting and shouting and shouting.

Steve opens the door and gets in, slamming it shut and reaching back with his other hand to place his box on the back seat, and starts the engine as you open your eyes. When people don’t move away, he blares the horn and people start pulling others out of the way, yelling at them to move. Then there’s a gap and he’s pulling away, hissing out a string of curses, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“Hm?” you say, your gaze darting to him as you register that he’s spoken to you.

He looks between you and the road, concern and fury trying to fight for their share across his features. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I just...”

When you don’t continue, looking at him, he nods, having seen the faint glint of desperation in your eyes.

“How about we take these cakes home and do some more testing, huh?”

You look down at your lap, forgetting you had even been holding the box and nod as you swallow, managing a smile. “That sounds like the best thing.”

“All right.” As you keep a tight grip on your bag, he presses a button on his steering wheel and says, “Call Nat.”

She answers on the first ring. “What happened?”

He shakes his head even though she can’t see it. “There was too many people, Nat. It was a fuckin’ nightmare, it was too much.”

She sighs on the other end, and there’s a note of frustration to it. “I know, I could see from where we are, we had some agents in there keeping people back but we couldn’t do too much or they’d risk blowing their cover.”

He releases a breath as he rolls his shoulders. “I know, it’s all right. We’re gonna head back to the apartment, can you cancel our reservation for the other place?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want me to come over?”

He glances at you and says a moment later, “No, we’ll be okay.”

“All right, I’ll message you.”

After she ends the call, he releases another, longer breath. You’ve kept your gaze on the dashboard, just focusing on your breathing.

There’s silence.

Then, you feel his hand back on yours, his fingers curling around it. You don’t move, you don’t say anything, either of you, but it’s so nice. It’s so grounding. Closing your eyes, you focus on it, letting it anchor you in the moment as you just breathe.

— 

“Nat says they've got their eye on a couple of suspects,” Steve says as he returns from the kitchen, handing you a drink.

You move your hand out from under the blanket and accept it with a smile, balancing it on your stomach, your fingers wrapped around it. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He resumes his position on the other end of the couch, stretching his legs out. “She’s hopin’ tomorrow will be the indicator, see who follows you and who follows me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see Peg.”

A smile lifts your lips as you look at him. “Oh, that’ll be nice, tell her I say hello.”

“I will,” he says as the ad break ends and the next programme starts. 

You’d been watching a travel show, making a mental note of some of the places you want to run away to when this is all over. After you’d arrived back at the apartment, about an hour ago, and kicked your shoes off, put your bag and the cake box down and sat on the couch and turned the TV on, you’d flicked through some channels and settled on it and hadn’t moved since. You’d heard Steve move around in the kitchen for a few minutes before he’d joined you, handing you a drink and a blanket.

You’d both sat quietly, commenting every now and then on the places shown and how nice they were, both of you knowing you don’t want to talk quite yet about the day.

Now, though, the talk show you’d caught yesterday begins. As the opening theme plays, you exhale a breath and Steve shifts as one of the presenters talks over it, images and headlines on the screen.

Images of you and Steve from today.

“Let the wedding bells ring! It looks like our new favourite couple are deep into planning their special day!” she trills. “On the show today we’ll be giving you all the coverage of where they went and what they got up to... and the wedding date!”

Slightly shaky, zoomed in footage from someone’s phone starts to play, showing you and Steve walking back at the hotel, your arm looped through his, both of you smiling.

Ah, so someone had done more than just double-take.

Your lips twitch as Steve reaches for the remote.

“Also coming up, the must-have gift for kids this Christmas, you will not want to miss it!”

For a reason you don’t quite know, as the screen shows the presenters sat at their table, pictures of you and Steve displayed on the small screens behind them, a laugh escapes you. 

Steve’s gaze darts to you as he pauses and you laugh again. "What?”

Unable to stop a smile, you rub your face with your hands with a slight groan. “This is just so dumb.”

He glances at the screen, which shows the presenters poring over a copy of the menu from they bistro they must have printed off, and the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Are you kidding me, this is top-notch journalism,” he says, just as the woman declares with a laugh, “... well, I’d’ve had the salad and a margarita!”

You burst out laughing into your hands as you simultaneously groan and cringe, Steve’s chuckling only fuelling you on.

It’s a good minute or so before you both calm down, Steve looking at you with a grin, his arms folded as you blow out a breath and wipe your eyes. He opens his mouth to say something when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the screen lighting up.

Clearing you throat as your smile lingers, you glance at it and see you have a notification so you lean over to try and get it. You fall just short, though, and you groan, looking at him.

“Help mee...”

“All right, all right, I got it...” Sighing mock-exasperatedly, he sits forward and leans over, lifting it and handing it to you.

He catches who the message is from.

"Thank you kindly,” you say as you sit up, reading the message.

Sitting back, he says it before he can stop himself. “Aaron, is that the door guard at our place?”

Oh.

“Yeah.” You don’t want to elaborate, and you reply to the message quickly before you lock your phone, dropping it into your lap, and look up at Steve... and there’s a slightly teasing smile on his lips.

“You like Aaron, huh?”

“No...” you scoff, folding your arms, and he just arches an eyebrow, making your mouth open and close. “... Maybe a little.”

 “All right.”

“Don’t start—”

His widening smile is accompanied by a tilt of his head and both eyebrows raising. “Hey, I owe you for all those Sharon jokes.”

You had ribbed him about that. A lot.

You pull a face as you make a begrudgingly agreeing sound, and he chuckles, his arm resting on the back of the couch. Looking at you, he speaks after a moment.

“I’m sorry that this is ruining starting something with him.”

You blink at him, your lips parting, before you snort quickly, waving your hand dismissively. “Oh, no, don’t be silly. I just like him, it’s just a crush, doesn’t mean I actually want to have a relationship with him. Everyone has those kind of crushes, don’t you?”

Did I say that too quickly.

He looks at you for a few moments, then his eyebrows raise a little. “Ah... Well, yeah, a couple, possibly.”

“Who?”

Now I definitely said that too quickly.

He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing a hand against his jaw. “Couple of people at work.”

“Well,” you smile, tilting your head, “Sorry if this is ruining anything for you with them.”

He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Well, sounds like we’ve got options once the break up’s announced.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, perhaps a touch too forcefully.

There’s silence.

“Well,” you say a little loudly, pushing the blanket off of you and sliding your legs off of the couch, “I think I’m gonna go and take a nap. Cake tasting is exhausting.”

“Who knew, huh?”

He smiles as he watches you go. It fades a little as you ascend the stairs.

A crush these days meant you didn’t want a relationship?

He doesn’t just have a crush, then.

—

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Tagged: @herb-welch, @jobean12-blog, @gifsbysimplysonia, @multireality, @saltyspiceduh, @sergeantangel, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky, @dispatchvampire, @superapplepie, @rynabarnesrogers-reading, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @imaginedreamwrite, @thesefleshfailures, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tellthemall-i-saidhi​, @tacohead13​, @opalsandlace​, @notsomellowmushroom​, @river-soul, @ollypopp​

[salamanderskin]

Sunshine (a M0llym4uk sickfic)

This is something of a gift for @just-a-nervous-bean for their wonderful artwork of Mollymauk, which can be found here and here Spellings stolen from the ever-talented @dodecahedral ‘s fic here because I couldn’t get them out of my head.

Modern AU where Molly is in the circus and Caleb is researching at the University, they are in a new-ish relationship together. No need to know the chars really. They’re soft boyfriends and Molly is miserable when he’s sick. That’s all. 

Mollymauk is, predictably, late. 

Caleb Widogast expects this. That’s why he planned a date for the cafe in the museum where he is working anyway, a place he is always happy to sit and read. The cafe is a pleasant break after the dusty hush of the archives; huge windows let in what is left of the wintery daylight from outside, illuminating the white walls and low, modern furniture. There is space for Caleb’s laptop and a stack of books beside his coffee cup. If he had his boyfriend and his cat here, the scene would be perfect-

That’s when Mollymauk arrives. The museum attracts members of enough different species that his being a tiefling with curled horns is not unusual. What draws attention is his artistic attire; He is wearing that ridiculous coat which doesn’t fasten high enough, a shirt cut in a deep v-neck to show tattooed flesh and a roguish grin. Flurries of snow have settled in his hair and he shakes his head like a dog before coming to sit beside Caleb.

“Hallo, looks like you got caught in the snow.” Caleb rises to hug his boyfriend and kiss him on his cheek.The tiefling’s lavender skin is ice-cold under his lips.

“Little bit.” Mollymauk sniffs and shivers as he sheds his coat, prompting Caleb to pass him a handful of napkins which he uses to first dry his face and then blow his nose. As he does so, Caleb gathers up his papers into his backpack and readies himself for a jaunt around the museum before closing time. 

It is lovely just to spend time together, to talk and question and wonder about the exhibits. This thing between them is still so new; he is still learning Molly’s tastes and interests and delightfully surprised by the tiefling’s breadth of knowledge. Caleb enjoys hearing Molly name plants and animals or the types of dye used in textiles, notices Molly light up for a particular colour or design. He also notices Molly sounds sniffly. 

If any other person in the world was sniffling like that around Caleb, he would be shooting them a look fierce enough to kill a man while wishing to die himself. When it’s Molly, he doesn’t like it, but it doesn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin. This must be love.

He watches Molly from the other end of the gallery. The tiefling is more colourful and appealing than the oil paintings he stands in front of. Not just his flamboyantly colourful trousers or the glitter of jewellery on his horns and the tattoos on his skin, but the lithe grace of his movements. Mollymauk tilts his head like a peacock to examine a detail, his slender fingers clenching with desire for the rough surface he has been firmly told not to touch. Framed by dun-coloured still-lifes, Molly is vibrantly animated, enchantingly alive; never more so than when he sneezes so suddenly that it causes him to stumble. 

“--aah'YZSSHH-iew!!”

The sound is sharp enough to spark aggressive echoes from the high ceiling and make several patrons, including Caleb himself, jump and turn their heads. 

“Sorry!” Molly stage-whispers and swipes a thumb under his nose with another wet sniffle. 

Caleb feels a burst of amusement at how each sneeze makes Molly’s tail lash wildly, putting a few fragile exhibits in danger. It happens a few times while they are hidden in the low light of the illuminated manuscripts that hold particular interest for Caleb, and again between the cases of iridescent butterflies whose colours make Molly clutch his heart and plan a dozen more tattoos. Caleb is resting against Molly’s arm for that last one, so he feels the tiefling yank himself away and stagger double. His hands don’t quite make it to his face and so clench helplessly in the air. He looks quite undone by the force of it and it takes him a minute to sniffle himself back to composure. 

“Gesundheit!” Caleb tucks a hand round Molly’s waist for an affectionate squeeze. “You sound like you’re catching a cold?”  

“Pffff.” Molly spreads his hands in a shrug,seeming to take in his lavender skin, his extravagant clothing and the sheer assuredness of his stance, as if he is too fabulous to possibly get sick. 

So Caleb puts it out of his mind. 

……………………..

Caleb’s phone buzzes him awake on Saturday morning. 

It’s the weekend, no archive for him today and no shifts at the University Library either. A rare free day. Caleb stretches his legs and hears a questioning -mrrp- from the cat at the end of his bed. He needs coffee and he needs to pee, but he could pretend he doesn’t and stay under the covers for at least another half an hour. That sounds really good.  

His phone buzzes again.

M.T -- You free today? Come over?

Caleb -- Thought you had rehearsal?

In fact Caleb was certain. He has an infallible memory for details like this, even more so when they concern his access to a delightfully attractive partner like Mollymauk.

M.T-- Cancelled. Yasha is away all wknd im lonely :(:(

Cancelling is unusual but stranger things have happened. This is a lovely surprise. He takes a moment to recalibrate his idea of the day and then rises from bed. Frumpkin follows, winding dangerously between his ankles. A glance out of the window reveals more flurrying snow but it will be no match for his old overcoat, his heaviest boots and thick scarf. His own roommate, Nott, is out at work, but he leaves the heating on for Frumpkin and heads out into the wilds. 

“Hello darling!” Molly gives him a big smile when he opens the door, but doesn’t swoop in and kiss him, which is unusual. 

The heating is cranked up high, which is unusual too.

He follows Molly up the stairs to their first floor apartment. This is still relatively new territory to Caleb, but welcoming. His boyfriend’s housemate Yasha, often absent, has filled all available window sills with houseplants to which Molly has added candles, crystals and new-age nicknacks of all stripes. It smells faintly of weed, sage and cooking. Molly ushers him into the living room where there is one unusual addition- what he knows to be Molly’s duvet is draped over the sofa in front of an open laptop showing a paused TV show. 

“Can I get you a glass of water, tea, gin, milk, prosecco or anything else?” Molly suggests. His voice sounds wrecked and thick. 

“Whatever you’re having. Molly are--” Caleb tries to get a closer look at him but he darts to the kitchen and putters almost aggressively with the kettle.

“Schatz,you sound-” He tries again.

“Tea, then. Lemon-ginger, redbush, green, green with passionfruit, chai or normal?”

“No preference.” Caleb actually has to put a hand on the tiefling’s back to calm his businesslike cheerfulness. “Come here-” He manages to get a grip on Molly’s shoulder and through leverage more than strength is able to turn the tiefling to face him. Molly is a good two inches taller, not counting his horns, but he slouches obligingly against the counter to put them face to face. Locks of his silken hair fall over his down-turned brow and Caleb pushes them behind his ear with a practiced, tender touch. 

“What’s the matter, hm? You’re being a little… erratic.”

“And I’m usually so predictable. Boring, even.” His boyfriend laughs, showing sharp white eyeteeth.

There it is again, though, that rasp on his voice. It sounds like it hurts him to talk. And something else, too. Thick violet lashes flutter and his ruby eyes squint closed as Molly shifts to soft, panting breaths through his mouth. Caleb is caught as off-guard when the tiefling shoves him gently to one side and sneezes hard. 

"Heh-IZSSCHH--iew!

It knocks him double, hands cringing weakly towards his face but not reaching in time to make any kind of cover. Before Caleb can comment, Molly takes a shaky step back and sneezes again and then a third time, retreating away towards the back wall and punctuating each with a heartfelt, “Fuck.” “Gesundheit.” Caleb offers. Molly straightens and gives him a cringing, apologetic look. His eyes are watering something fierce and Caleb thinks he can see how ticklish his nose is, even from five feet away. The poor thing is blushed to a deep violet and he can see his nostrils flaring uncertainty. Molly hovers his hands tentatively in front of his face for a moment… lowers them… raises them quickly and draws a ragged “aaah-”  before - “YZSSHH-iew!! Fuck.”

Caleb doesn’t quite know how to react and defaults to standing still, hands clenched uselessly at his side and desperately wishing he had his cat to keep them busy. “Hold on... “ Molly groans and scrambles out of the room with his hands still cupped guiltily over his face. Caleb tracks the sound of feet along the corridor of the bathroom. A door slam, toilet paper yanked from the roll and a thick nose blow followed by running water. Little husking coughs and soft thumps like Molly tapping is on his chest with a fist to ease it. So that explains the weirdness. Mollymauk sounds miserably sick. That’s all. That’s good, on the scale of things. That Caleb can deal with. 

He finishes preparing the tea as he waits for his boyfriend to return, carries both cups to the sofa and makes himself comfortable. 

When Mollymauk returns he has added a hoodie over his outfit and is carrying a half-empty toilet roll in one hand. 

“You did catch a cold.” Caleb manages to make it a comfort and a question and an accusation all in one. 

Under the force of his voice, Molly raises his hands in defeat and retreats to sit on the sofa beside Caleb, then collapses into a full-body slump with his head tilted against the cushions and his eyes closed, as though if he can’t see his boyfriend then he can’t be seen either. 

“I’m sorry, darling.” He mumbles. 

“Whatever for?”

The tiefling rolls his face away and buries his face into the sofa cushions with a pitiful little cough. “Not warning you I was sick before you came over. And I kissed you yesterday even though my throat was getting sore. I just- really wanted to see you today, so I thought I could just not tell you. You can go now.”

Caleb actually laughs. Molly can be so melodramatic when he wants to be. He scoots closer to the miserable hunch of tiefling and places an affectionate hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles through the thick sweater. Molly begins to uncurl, uncertainly, an exotic flower inching towards the warmth of the human’s gaze.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want to come over?” Caleb queries.

Molly shrugs. “I’m disgusting. And you’re-” A handwave at Caleb’s physical form,

“I am a fragile waif of a wizard who could be knocked over by a stiff breeze. What is your point?”

“If I get you sick you’ll get behind on your research paper. I know you can’t afford not to work right now and I-” he swallows in exaggerated dread as he reaches the crux of argument.  “-aaaand Nott will kill me.” 

They both share a moment to imagine Caleb’s roommate and best friend coming after Molly like a feral whirlwind. 

“Okay, so that is a fair point.” Caleb concedes. “Nott doesn’t have to know. The rest, however, is nonsense. Now look at me, schatz, and let me see how you’re doing.”

He dips a hand to Molly’s chin and tilts his head to get a better view. Molly does look pale, which given his exotic lavender colouring means that his cheeks are more of a washed-out lilac, in contrast to a darker blush where he has been scrubbing at his poor nose. There is a general, unwell cast to his features and a thick, congested sound to his breathing. Caleb doesn’t find it disgusting at all, if anything it makes him feel soft and fond. He plants a kiss to the tiefling’s forehead and reaches to the side of his neck to feel for his glands.

“Owww…” Mollymauk whines, predictably, and tries to duck away.

“Sore, then?” Caleb notes. “How’s your throat?”

“Sore as well.” Molly snuffles thickly then turns and blows his nose into some more toilet tissue. 

“Poor sweetheart, you got it bad, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe.” He says meekly. 

A soft, pathetic snuffle and Mollymauk finally gives up on keeping any space between them. He snuggles up into Caleb’s arms and lays his head shamelessly against his boyfriend’s shoulder, nestling in for warmth. His tail slips between their nested calves, anchoring them. 

“Have you had any medicine?” Caleb asks. 

Molly nods. “I had some, but it didn’t seem to be working so I had some more…” He shrugs in the direction of a bottle and a sticky teaspoon on the sideboard. 

“Okay, that’s good. No wonder you were a little loopy when I came in. Why don’t you drink your tea while it’s hot?”

They both sip tea in silence for a few minutes. Molly draws his duvet up over them both and tugs it up to his chin. The moment is interrupted by a few quick panting breaths and a chaotic- “ --aah'YZSSHH-iew!” of a sneeze that thrusts him forward, whole body shuddering.

He straightens groggily, as though it took a lot of him. “So no romantic outing today?”

“Absolutely not. Only romantic couch cuddles and possibly you having a nap. Do you think you could sleep for a bit?”

“Not if I keep- keep  --'YZZSSChieww! Fuck.”

“Gesundheit!” 

Molly keeps his head down and groans.

“So. Sleep, yes?” Caleb tries to be businesslike, which is difficult with a ridiculously purple and obviously miserable tiefling moping beside him. “Do you feel like going back to bed or staying here on the couch?”

Molly considers, head tilted. “I can’t just go to bed in the middle of the day?” 

“Of course you can, you do it all the time. You are the queen of naps.” 

Molly wavers, sniff-sniffing damply and shivering where he sits.

Caleb stands and offers both hands to haul him to his feet, as if his slight frame could be any actual assistance to his more athletic partner.

“Come, schatz, let me take you to bed. You can have a nap or watch TV and I will sit beside you and read, then make you something nice and hot for lunch. Yes?”

Molly accepts the symbolic gesture and follows him meekly up the stairs. He pauses on the threshold with a look of sudden dread-

“My room is-” 

Too late, Caleb has opened the door. Molly’s room looks as though the wardrobe department of his entire circus troupe has exploded out of the closet, where it is mixed with empty cans, bags, shoes and new-age nonsense. Caleb, who has never had enough possessions to cover the floor of a room, just rolls his eyes, more impressed than offended. The overall effect is not unwelcoming; the air is scented with musky nagchampa and the light through the fabric and fairy-lights pinned over the window is diffuse and gentle. Endearingly, there is a distinct, Mollymauk sized dip in the centre of the mattress. Extra blankets and pillows are arranged to make a nest. 

“I don’t mind. It smells nice.” 

“Thagks. I feel so accepted.” Molly jokes but his partner just nods.

“You should. I told you I do not mind if you are a little messy around the edges. Everyone is, if you look close enough. Now, lie down.” 

In a few moments they have retrieved the duvet from downstairs and settled beside each other on the bed with Molly’s horned head cradled carefully in his human’s lap. They have enough practice at this that Caleb can pet his back with one hand while reading his book with the other. It’s not as easy as it could be, however, because Molly keeps shifting and sniffling and scrubbing his nose itchily against Caleb’s upper thigh. 

“That is a little distracting, love, is that the effect you intended?” Caleb can’t keep the warmth out of his voice. 

Disappointingly, Molly shakes his head. “Not really, sorry. Ugh, I feel s- -s-ohh- fuck- ” his voice cracks and wavers up the octave. He clearly needs to sneeze again, badly. His expression is congested and miserable, too overwhelmed by the sensation to talk. 

“Sneezy?” Caleb suggests.

Molly nods, shakes his head like a dog with water in it’s ears, gives an unhappy little groan. The irritation is obvious in the hazy cast of his eyes, the uncertain waver to the corner of his lip. 

“So sneezy.” Caleb teases, fondly. “Look like you caught this cold right in your nose.” 

He reaches to give the offending organ a gentle pet, fingertips tweaking the fine purple tip. Molly responds with an almost comically deep inhale and a wounded look before executing a declarative sneeze over the side of the bed. 

"... --aah'YZSSHH-iew!

“Gesundh-”

“ah-YIIZSSHHww!” 

Caleb’s book is long abandoned by this point. His attention is fully commanded by his beloved tiefling who is trapped in a seemingly unbreakable cycle of chest-swelling gasp-- head tilt back-- hard punctuating sneeze into his steepled hands-- swear- -gasp again. 

It does wind down eventually, following a few particularly vicious, three-syllable- 

“ahh- IIZSSCHH-iEW!” 

“Fuck… tired…” He finishes.

“Impressive. Poor liebling.” Caleb sighs and hands him a pack of tissues from his own pocket. “I’ve never seen you like this..”

Mollymauk shugs. “I don’t often get sick, it’s the-” a gesture that takes in all his inhuman glory. “Thank fuck. Guess I’m making up for it. I feel like balls.”

“I am not surprised.” Caleb waits until Molly has blown his nose to the best of his ability, then scoots closer again. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing… I’m just going to have a crappy weekend…” Molly sighs dramatically, running his hands through his hair. “When I said practice was cancelled, I cancelled on them cause I felt too rough. I’m going to get so behind on learning my new act…”

“Stop whining, it doesn’t suit you.” Caleb shakes his head, reaching to settle the teifling’s curls back into place where he has mussed them up. “Shan’t.” Oh yes, he’d forgotten that Molly is a brat. 

“Then maybe I should go and leave you to your misery?” Caleb makes as though to rise, but predictably as clockwork his partner gives a whimper of loss and reaches for him.

“No- stay with me-?” His ruby eyes are big and pleading, tears actually beginning to rise. Gods, Molly feels completely pathetic right now. Luckily, Caleb cannot resist him even like this and gives in at once, his point made.

“Ah, very well, but I will have no more whimpering. I know you feel very poorly, schatz, but just let me help you.” “Okay.” Molly snuffles into his sleeve and nods.

“First I think you could have some more tea, and we could even put a shot of whiskey in it. Then I really want you to try and sleep. What if I don’t even read? You could have my full attention, yes?” He sweetens the command with a tender hand rubbing over his boyfriend’s temples and down the sides of his nose. Molly softens at once, practically purring.

In no time at all they are rearranged on the bed with a steaming cup of tea. Caleb leans up against the headboard and spreads his legs, tapping his chest to indicate that Molly should settle between them. It takes a little shuffling to settle the tiefing’s horned head against his chest, but he feels Molly relax into the embrace at once. 

His partner is a soothing weight, anchoring him in the present as Molly always does. 

He finds he does not mind the snuffly breaths and little coughs smothered against his chest; the intimacy of the moment is more than worth it. 

“This is nice.” 

“See, if your head is elevated, you won’t have so much congestion when you sleep.” He explains.

“That’s really smart,” the tiefling murmurs sleepily. “I always said you were a genius.”

A moment of calm. The winter sun comes out from behind the clouds and a ray of light slips through a gap in the hangings to drape over the bed. The crystals on the windowsill dance with minute rainbows. He feels Molly smile. “Sunshine.” He says sleepily.

“That’s me.” Caleb agrees. “Just rest, Mollymauk. I’ve got you.” 

And he does, he does. Even with Molly like this, it’s better than books and museum dates and circus shows. It is better than anything Caleb can think of. 

[edgydepressedchoicesthot]

Act of Courage (Noah/MC, Lucas/MC)

Summary: It shouldn’t feel like this, after all this time. We won, didn’t we?

No, Josh realized. We didn’t.

In which a survivor contemplates what was, what is, and what could have been.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061654

@ladyseaheart1668, @marmolady, @it-lives-in-westchester

A/N: Between work, college, and my f*cked up head, finishing this up took a lot longer than it should have. I'm trying to make writing into my coping mechanism, so that I'll do it more, lol ;D

I have one more fic I promised on tumblr, an AME one I'm gonna work on. I'm also gonna try to go back to my ES novelization, so stay tuned for that for its continuation.

————————

The two of them were at Josh’s place, waiting for Ava, Andy, Dan, and Lucas. Lily was sick in bed and Stacy was visiting her grandma out of town, leaving Noah and Josh waiting for the four others while they drew figures in the dirt in the yard with sticks and talking about anything their minds jumped to.

“Hey, Noah?”

The boy turned towards his friend.

“Yeah?”

For a moment, Josh, who was as lively as ever seconds ago, was being uncharacteristically quiet.

“Do you…like anyone?”

“‘Like’,” Noah repeated. “Like I like you and Jane and the others? Or you mean like-like?”

“Um, yeah” Josh nodded, blushing. “Like-like.”

“Then no,” the other boy shrugged. “Stacy, Lily, and Ava are fun to hang around, but I don’t like-like anyone.”

“What about,” Josh began hurriedly, but slowed down. “What about boys…?”

“Huh?”

“Do you like-like any boys?”

Josh was beet red. Noah was just confused.

“No,” he shrugged. “I’m a boy. It’d be weird if I liked-liked a boy. That’s what my mom says though.”

“Right…” Josh looked hurt. “Right, forget it.”

Noah wanted to ask why his friend looked so sad.

He hated it when Josh got upset. Unlike Jane, who’d get mad, Josh would be quiet, pouty, and would go off by himself, refusing to ever acknowledge what made him upset in the first place.

But before Noah can say anything, the doorbell rang and their friends poured inside.

Noah forgot that Josh even asked him any question about who he liked.

It was something they’d both forget in the years to come, a memory of the conversation fading into a small feeling.

————————

After reading Lucas’s texts, Josh shoved his phone into his pocket. His smile started to fade as he continued down the road, focusing on his surroundings.

It really is a beautiful day, Josh mused.

And he hated it.

The sun shone through the trees in a way that reminded him of an image you’d find on a tourist pamphlet.

It made Josh think about how the only thing this town is good for is being fake.

Like how the town somehow fooled themselves into thinking everything was just a freak animal attack.

But the more he thought about it, Josh guessed he couldn’t blame the town for that. Having to deal with the truth might actually be more of a clusterfuck than it all happening.

It was all a question of why.

Why did this all happen to them? Why was he the one who had to find Redfield’s shack?

All he had to do was keep his goddamn mouth shut about some stupid fucking rock floating all those years ago…

It’s my fault.

Josh scoffed.

Like that’s big news.

And when it was time to pay the piper, Josh was too much of a coward to do anything…

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Josh forced himself to think about something, anything else.

His mind wandered from the date Lucas promised they’d have before he went back to his university, to that new video game Lily’s been raving about, Stacy’s latest Pictagram post about celebrating another perfect score on an exam, Ava’s latest binge on occult books in the library, Andy whining about how he just wants to be free of high school already, Dan’s updates on his new art blog…

…Noah crying, apologizing…

Josh wiped tears from his eyes as he kept walking.

————————

Noah always envied Josh.

He was a charismatic go-getter where Noah was shy and bookish. Josh always got stickers that came with having a perfect score on spelling tests, ones that Noah just passed by never more than five points. Josh was brave enough to make the first move in befriending him and Jane, and began their circle of friends the same way.

Noah not only hated how he was too wimpy to ever say any of this out loud, but also that he held this kind of resentment towards one of the best friends he’s ever had.

Noah hated how nervous he feels around Josh too. How he can’t help but constantly compare himself to him.

Josh was like the sun; radiant and bright and impossible to miss, and Noah had felt like the grimy earth beneath it.

But everything changed after Jane died.

Their whole group of friends changed. They started to see each other less and less, and eventually, they never saw each other outside of school.

Having different classes in middle school widened the gap between them, leaving silent nods as the last bit of interaction they had.

Soon, even those were gone.

Even after they all fell apart, Noah couldn’t help but notice Josh.

Before, Noah had always seen Josh happily chatting with at least one person.

Now, Noah never saw him hang out with anyone ever again. He was like the dusty remains of a star that went out.

There were times Noah wanted to reach out, to see if they could be friends again, to hang out, laugh together, be together-

-and Noah would stop himself when he came short of any reason Josh would want to talk to him.

————————

“You look like shit.”

“Hello to you too, Ava.”

Josh was semi-thankful that his shift at one of the town’s few fast food places started early in the morning. Only a handful of people stepped in here for breakfast, and none of them were impossible to deal with. So, for a few hours, Josh could enjoy a bit of peace before the lunch rush.

And it was always good to see a friendly face.

“Alright, fuck the pleasantries then.”

Usually.

Ava stretched her hand at Josh and waved it dramatically.

“In the name of the Dread Goddess Hekate, get me my usual.”

Josh punched in the register an order for an apple pie and a milkshake.

“That’ll be $2.78.”

Wordlessly, Ava hands him money and Josh went in the back to get her order.

“Talked to Tom today,” Ava said. “He looked really interested in the stuff I found in Cora’s shack. Maybe he can be my apprentice or some shit.”

“A witch’s apprentice?”

“Turned him down. Teaching is a rock bottom I’ll never hit.”

“Cuz the teacher’s at school we sooo great.”

“You get it.”

Josh finished up, pie in a paper bag and milk in hand.

“So, you talk to people,” she asked before he held out her order. “You’re social like that. Everyone’s gonna be at the memorial tonight, right?”

“Yup,” Josh nodded. “All seven of-”

Josh stops himself, remembering what happened to the seventh.

Ava’s face went steely, and for a moment it looked like she had a lot to say.

“Hand me my order,” she sighed. Josh obliged.

Before Ava walked out, she stopped and did a half turn. Josh sees several shifts to and from anger and sympathy.

“Tale care,” she said before leaving.

————————

Noah couldn’t remember the last time he and Josh talked.

So, when Josh sat next to him at the pep rally, he hoped his quietness came off as indifference, and hid his anxiety about the whole situation.

Josh didn’t seem to mind, since he started talking semi-comfortably. He was mellower and less gloomy than he used to be, and Noah felt the familiar jealously that was always the third companion amongst the two.

The pep rally ended after the blackout, Josh called everyone to meet after school, and four of them were stocking up on makeshift weapons.

When Josh told Noah that he won’t leave him again, he let himself believe it.

Noah halfheartedly thanked Josh, and for a second was afraid his sort-of-friend would take offense.

But instead, Josh smiled at him, and Noah felt like he was looking at sunshine.

A warm feeling bloomed in Noah’s chest, and it stuck around even when they were done talking and gone back to looking for weapons.

Noah remembered the warm feeling later on, when he noticed how Josh’s face was red when he was close enough to Lucas, how he stammered a bit more when the two were talking.

Noah wasn’t as dumb as he was as a kid. He knew that Josh liked Lucas. He also didn’t want to believe he was feeling jealousy, because of what it implied.

It wasn’t until during Britney’s party that Noah started to ask himself where these feelings for Josh came from. Was it sometime after everyone drifted apart, and their absence leaving an ache in his heart? Or was it before, when they were younger, innocent, and still friends?

After the party and after Josh revived his hope for the future (something he’d been doing well the past few days), his own personal devil reared its shadowy head, and signaled the end.

In the near future, while they were all forced to play the game again, Noah would wonder if anything could have happened to keep this whole mess from happening.

If he just told Redfield to fuck off, or just ignored him (no, her).

————————

“In school,” Andy said with a mouth full of pizza. “You froze up every time you had to present something. And up there, you didn’t break a sweat.”

Josh was taken by surprise when Stacy’s mom called him up to say a few words (he didn’t even think the town’s mayor even remembered his name). Surprisingly, where there was usually quick breath and sweating, there was just emptiness.

His mind flashed to Cora when he was up, about how she risked her life to help them and went to warn them while she was injured and dying.

And then it went to Noah.

He kept his part about Noah as brief as possible, and stepped down the second he gave his last “thank you”.

Josh would like to say that Lucas’s hug and quick kiss after the memorial made him feel better, but after talking about Noah, he couldn’t shake the feeling like he was betraying him.

“I get a lot of speech practice when dealing with customers from hell,” Josh finally answered, shrugging.

“You mean Ava?” Andy snarked.

“Andy, don’t be mean,” Lily scolded

“You think I take offense to that?” Ava grinned evilly. “I go there on the weekends.”

Josh finished his Graveyard, and turned to Lucas, right next to him.

“Bartender, one more.”

“One for me too,” Stacy smirked, wiggling her empty cup.

“I think you’ve both had enough,” Lucas said in mock seriousness.

“How can you stand to drink those?” Tom asked. “I almost hurled taking a sip!”

“That’s it, you’re dead to me,” Stacy pouted theatrically.

“Aw, come on,” Lily nudged Stacy with her shoulder. “We all just pledged our eternal devotion to each other five minutes ago!”

And just managed to avoid talking about Noah…

Noah could be here. Right now.

Maybe not here though. The others might still hate him, maybe not, but at least he’d be alive. Maybe everyone would even slowly come to stop hating him.

He could find a way to pay for culinary school. He could open up the diner he talked about…

And I wish I could just stop thinking about those last moments…

Josh has vague memories of blushing and being embarrassed around Noah when they were younger, but he didn’t think it had meant anything.

Every time Josh started thinking about his...crush, if he could call it that, he’d just start thinking of Lucas, and guilt of betrayal would stab at his gut.

Josh’s eyes drift over to Dan, who’s been silent the whole time, aside from giving halfhearted laughs and accepting Graveyard refills…

…along with bringing up the one who’s been on Josh’s mind for a while.

“Well…not the whole group.”

Josh remembered that this night would end, and that everyone would go back to dealing with their trauma.

Not alone. Please for the love of god not alone.

He felt like some kind of traitor again, for feeling this awful around people with whom he should be happy.

It shouldn’t feel like this, after all this time. We won, didn’t we?

He remembered the panic attack he talked Lily through by phone after Britney called him, begging for help. He remembered Ava’s blank face as the signs of a flashback started to show. He remembered the bags under Stacy’s eyes as she drank more coffee than was healthy. He remembered the late night texts from Andy faking small talk when he couldn’t sleep and needed some anchor to reality. He remembered the way Dan finally admitted with tears that he wasn’t fine, was anything but fine.

And he remembered seeing the thing that used to be Noah in the ruins, looking back at him with those white eyes before vanishing.

No, Josh realized. We didn’t.

————————

Seconds ago, Josh had gotten Noah out of Redfield’s (no, Jane’s) control as he was seconds away from being stabbed.

He goaded and taunted the monster they all feared since childhood, and fended it off with a whistle.

So this should be easy, right?

Taking Jane’s place so she could finally be free of the hell she spent nearly a decade in.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” Noah sobbed. “Please…please tell my mom-”

“Wait!” Josh said shakily. “It doesn’t have to be you!”

“Josh, please, it had to be me,” Noah begged. “Let me do this. Let me fix my mistakes.”

“NO!” he screamed. “Don’t you dare! Let me do this! Let me take her place instead!”

Except…

Josh didn’t say any of that.

He wanted to stop Noah, he wanted to so much, but no matter what, his throat wouldn’t obey.

When it mattered the most, all he could give is silence.

If the two of them were any closer, their faces would touch. Unfallen tears pooled in Noah’s eyes, filled with regret

Josh didn’t know what to do. He wanted to scream at Noah. He wanted to hug him and never let go. He wanted to punch him.

But Noah acted before Josh could.

His lips weren’t soft, but warm and gentle, and soon turn salty when tears hit their lips. Neither of them knew whose.

“I’m sorry,” Josh lost count of the number of times Noah’s apologized today. “I just…I needed to do that. Just once…”

Those are the last words Noah ever said as a human.

————————

The night ended with everyone promising to see each other tomorrow, and soon after that.

And so, here were Josh and Lucas, waiting together on a bench on the sidewalk for Josh’s mom to come pick them up and give Lucas a ride to his house.

Despite everyone parting with the unspoken promise of this goodbye isn’t for good, Josh couldn’t help that irrational fear that the opposite would be true, and they’d all fall apart over again.

“You good?” Lucas pulled Josh out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” he mumbled dumbly.

“You’re squeezing my hand pretty hard there,” Lucas shakes his hand holding Josh’s, and he finds out he’s right; Josh is squeezing Lucas’s hand like some kind of lifeline.

“Sorry,” Josh says sheepishly as he eases his grip, but Lucas gives a gentle squeeze, keeping him from pulling away.

“Hey, you’re alright,” Lucas says before Josh can apologize any more.

Josh smiled at him, not trusting himself to speak right now. Unfortunately, it just gave way to an awkward silence.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Lucas asks.

“What…” do you mean, Josh wanted to say, but he just didn’t have the heart to lie to his boyfriend’s face.

“I know,” Josh sighed.

And he did. But that was a different story than being able to do it.

“I’m here for you. So is everyone else. And if something’s been on your mind, we’d all listen if you wanted to talk.”

Josh wanted to.

He probably needed to.

Josh remembered Dan, how he desperately needed someone to talk to, how he needed help, and what happened after he didn’t get it (it wasn’t his fault, it was mine).

But what could he possibly say?

Is it okay for me to have lingering feelings for someone else? Someone who betrayed us and led us to a monster? Someone who’s a monster now himself? Someone almost all of you understandably hate?

There’s no way he can bring that up. Not to his friends, not to his boyfriend.

“I don’t wanna talk,” Josh sighs. “Could we just…be here…? If that makes any sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Lucas jokes. “But it’s a good thing I’m a mind reader.”

Lucas put an arm around Josh, pulling him closer.

Josh rested his head on Lucas’s shoulder and closed his eyes, enjoying his boyfriend’s presence.

In the future, when Josh finally found it in him to talk, he’d be able to go back to the cabin. Against all advice, he’d look for Noah in the shadowy figure that haunted the woods. And he’d find him. And soon after, Josh would be able to help more people who were forced into a world of monsters like he and his friends were.

[matrixaffiliate]

Re-blog Tag

The fabulous @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world tagged me to re-blog a fic I’m proud of. Thank you so much darling <3

If anyone wants to play consider yourself tagged. I’ll tag @gryffindorhealer @thisismegz @petals-to-fish @pansexualsnuffles

Glimpsing Happiness

FFN and AO3

I wrote this wonderful piece with @hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon and it’s still one of my favorite ones to go back and read. I’ll post just the first two chapters here, but if you follow the links above they’ll take you to the full 34K word story. I hope you enjoy this WWII Blackinnon AU!

Chapter 1

Marlene straightened her veil and smoothed the creases out of her white apron before grabbing her gray woolen coat. She chuckled bitterly at the lies she and Mary had told themselves when the war began. September seemed like a dream not just over half a year ago.

When she'd interviewed for the QAIMNS to be a military nurse she'd been a bit startled at being asked to wait afterward. The officer had returned to the waiting room ten minutes later and handed her a packet. Open only in the event of war was printed across the front. He thanked her and sent her on her way. When Mary had the same packet after her interview, Marlene at least knew it wasn't a ploy. Marlene still remembered the chill she felt when England declared war. She and Mary opened their packets together in Marlene's room. The fact that they'd been assigned to the same place was a miracle within itself. War had a habit of pulling everyone apart. But they thought Netley would be an adventure back then. They thought they would be by the sea and have beautiful scenery to live in and that this was how they'd make a difference. Though if she was honest, Marlene would have preferred being handed a rifle and marching orders. But she had to take what she could get.

“Ready Marls?” Mary came out of the loo and walked to the small bed adjacent to the one Marlene sat upon. Her Majesty's nurses were being put up in qualified dwellings, but Marlene knew the stories from The Great War and she refused to become attached to this small flat as home.

Home was London. Home was the bustling streets where she would run to school with her brother and sister. Home was making fun of her older brother for pinning after the shop girl. Home was her younger sister playing their grandmother's violin because she had the gift. Home was her mum's Sunday dinners and her seamstress work all over the sitting room. Home was the smell of her dad's pipe tobacco wafting through their small house and his hugs that made her feel understood. Home was when everyone thought that the world had seen it's worst war. This, well this was anything but home.

Marlene sighed and grabbed her gloves, “Let's get this wretched walk over with.”

Mary tutted, “Just think of it as a pleasant stroll near the seaside.”

Marlene playfully pulled one of Mary’s black curls from under her veil, “I can always count on you to be a bright ball of sunshine can't I?”

Mary reached up and grabbed one of Marlene's blonde ringlets. Marlene flinched as the lock of hair caught on Mary's wedding band, “Your fault for wearing the sun on your head, Sister.”

The women began their trek up to Netley Hospital. The cold spring air whipped against them and Marlene nearly lost her veil twice. It was biting cold and their fingers and toes ached as they climbed the hill. There's a reason that it took two steam engines for the trains to reach the hospital station, Marlene mused as she braced herself against the wind that threatened to knock her back down the hill.

When they finally made it to the hospital doors, Marlene groaned. The entry to the hospital was most peculiar and if she was being honest, downright disturbing. This grand entry served as some sort of deranged circus. All the skulled momentos of animals that had been collected across the British Empire. Beasts really, she shuddered and practically dragged Mary past it all as quickly as possible. Marlene didn't think she'd ever become accustomed to it.

“They really aren't all that bad, Sister Marlene,” Mary smirked and stopped to admire what was labeled as an elephant skull.

“Sister Mary, we're going to be late if we don't step to it and the Matron won't thank us for it.”

Mary sighed and removed her coat before adjusting her scarlet tippet, “Well then off we go.”

They walked to their Matron’s office, nodding politely and grabbed their assignments off the wall covered in file folders.

“Bollocks,” Marlene muttered as they walked out and she opened her folder.

Mary peered over her shoulder, “Oh dear.”

“I was supposed to be done this week!” Marlene groaned. “Private Fenwick will be cleared and on his way to the station by now and I was supposed to be done with Quarantine because we'd have no more patients. But no! We had to get a typhoid fever patient!”

“But we sent vaccines over to France. He should have been vaccinated, it was mandated, David told me so.” Mary’s husband had been sent over to France with the British Expeditionary Force.

“The vaccine isn't a guarantee, Sister. He's probably one of the lucky ones.” Marlene huffed and snapped her folder shut.

“Yes,” Mary rolled her eyes, “very lucky, indeed.”

“Enjoy surgical recovery,” Marlene tipped her head as they reached Mary's ward.

“Enjoy your walk,” Mary blew her a kiss before walking into the first room of her ward.

Marlene started her near quarter-mile trek to the far side of Netley Hospital. She'd gone home last night looking forward to a new assignment, to being done with the Quarantine patient. Not that Private Fenwick was a bad sort, but Marlene was tired of being sequestered off with the shy little ward maid, Arabella Figg. She was a sweet enough lady, but she always insisted on talking about the cats she bread and Marlene wasn't particularly fond of cats, she was more of a dog person actually, so their conversations fizzled out quickly.

“Sister Marlene,” Arabella smiled kindly at her as she pulled the sheets off of Private Fenwick's cot. “I told them to put your new patient by the window. Not much of a view, but I thought a bit of sun would do the poor officer good.”

“Thank you, Arabella,” Marlene nodded and walked to the far end of the room where a man lay unconscious under his blankets. Opening the chart, Marlene sighed, “Welcome home, Captain Black.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

It started out like just a common cold. Sirius did his best to ignore the blaring headache and aches in his muscles. He was fighting in a bloody war; he had more important things to focus on than the damned sniffles.

But within a few weeks, it was high fevers to the point of full-on delirium. No amount of Iron-will stubbornness could have kept him on the field after that. He was lucky someone had dragged him off to sick bay before his vision gave out.

Losing his sight was quite jarring, even to a mind that was preoccupied with the fact it was boiling. Was he dying? Where was he? What was happening?

He woke up, and by virtue of doing so, he was fairly sure he wasn’t dead. He didn’t quite have a gage on how long he was unconscious, but when he woke he was absolutely sure he’d been moved.

The smell.

This was some sort of infirmary or hospital. It smelled like sickness. Death and dying. Was he next? What sort of soldier dies of the sniffles? Uncle Alphard would be ashamed.

Or he would have been...He was gone now. Sirius winced. The news of his favorite Uncle’s passing was fresh. The letter had only come a week before the nosebleeds began.

Uncle Alphard had been his hero. The only person he could really look up to in that whole god-forsaken family. He was also just about the only blood relation that Sirius had who hadn’t been ashamed of him.

To be fair, the shame went both ways. Having grown up in a house with his 1st cousin, Bellatrix Black, who kissed the ground that Herr Hitler walked on, was not something that Sirius was particularly proud of. Leaving aside the constant rumors that she was intimately close to the Führer and may or may not be pregnant with his horrible Nazi hellspawn. Sirius didn’t even believe that last bit, but he felt sure that Bella wished it were true. She’d had these awful framed photos of him up in her bedroom when they were children. She was living her dream… It disgusted him and he didn’t bring it up if he could help it.

Instead, he attempted to shake off any hints of German in his speech and mannerisms. This was a monumental task for someone who spoke German from the nursery. In truth, he was a quarter British, if that. His mother’s mother was a Granddaughter of Queen Victoria herself. But they’d married Germans, as the British nobility had been wont to do, and consequently, his Mother’s noble house of Black, was about as German as anyone in Europe.

His father was bitter that he never got to wear the crown he had lived his life thinking that he deserved. He’d never fully adjusted. It was a far fall from His Royal Highness Orion, Crown Prince of Saxony, to an untitled exile, taking his wife’s name and live off her relatives' generosity.

Things were always tense at Uncle Cygnus’s generosity and his estate in Berkshire. Sirius and Cygnus’s middle daughter, Andromeda, clung to each other, and their uncle Alphard, in the midst of all these disgruntled Germans. The three of them were all that was left, well before England declared war. The others contended that Herr Hitler had the right idea about the Herrenmenschen. Transparently desperate to be superior to someone after losing their titles, they made their choice.

Sirius felt that he had to make choices of his own, despite being only 15 at the time. He’d opted to stay behind with his best mate from Eton, James Potter, and Uncle Alphard. This decision, and his iron-will refusal to do as he was told, did not go over well.

His mother berated him for his choices, saying he was a traitor to his blood. He said they were traitors to his country. This was the country that had educated him and taught him to be a man more than she ever could. So his parents and younger brother went on their way to support the Fürher and Sirius Black did his damnedest to be an English Gentleman through and through. That was that.

Apparently, being an English Gentleman did nothing to fend off typhoid fever. So he was to convalesce at the rather unpleasant smelling Netley Hospital for the time being.  

Those were amongst the words of the commanding baritone voice, was it a doctor? A medic? How was Sirius supposed to know? He couldn’t bloody see. How did people manage to live like this?

This was going to get old very quickly, if, like the voice informed him, he was going to live through it. Six weeks as a blind invalid?

Bollocks…

“Welcome home, Captain Black” the sound of his name startled him out of his half unconscious state.

“Did you say home? Are you sure about that? I think perhaps I died and went to Hell. Are you Hell’s secretary?”

“I beg your pardon! I’m Sister Marlene McKinnon. I’m charged with taking care of you while you recover here at Netley. So I recommend you be a bit nicer to me. You just asked the woman who’ll handle all your meals and medication for the next… ooooh six weeks is it… if she was Hell’s secretary.”

“And I’m still not convinced that you’re not. Sister Marlene. Are you a nun? I’m afraid I find myself dreadfully blind at the moment. You’ll have to tell me; are you wearing one of those nun head what’s-its?”

“Well, this is going to be an eventful six weeks… No, Captain Black, I’m not a nun. Sister is a rank. Sister is my rank in Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service.”

“Ah yes. Great Aunt Alix. That was the funeral of the season when I was six.” He remarked casually.

“Captain, I don’t care if her Majesty herself was your aunt. You still have to be polite.”

“Do I? Is there a law? ‘Here in Hell, we must be polite’? I must say, that’s unexpected. Here I was thinking the Devil would be lax with the rules. Shows what I know.”

Sirius was pretty sure he heard the woman, Sister Marlene, groan.

“I’ll be back in an hour, Captain Black. Perhaps by then you’ll have reconsidered your attitude.” Her clipped footsteps faded towards what must have been the door.

[let-it-raines]

Pitching a Tent ⛺️ (1/1)

Emma Swan does not want to go camping. Who even goes camping anymore when things like air conditioning, indoor plumbing, and the internet exist? Why would anybody in their right mind sleep on the ground instead of the softness of a mattress? David says that it’s an adventure, and while she doesn’t believe him those first few hours of trekking through the wilderness, she does once she drunkenly wanders into a British man’s tent in the middle of the night.

Created by the 2 trope game of | wilderness + awkward first meeting |

Rating: Teen (yes, I know, the innuendo in the title is not indicative of this)

A/N: Can I give one big shoutout to @galaxyzxstark for sending me the prompt  that created this story but also for literally brightening my day every time I see her tags underneath one of my stories? You are the best! Thank you❤️

And thank you to @captainsjedi for organizing @csseptembersunshine to give me the motivation to finish writing a lot of little things that I’ve been working on☺️

Found on AO3 | Here |

Tag list: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells ​@tiganasummertree @xellewoods @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @idristardis @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 

-/-

“Toothbrush, toothpaste, bug spray, sunscreen, sleeping bag, whatever, whatever, whatever.”

Emma runs through the list that David sent her in email after email and text after text. It’s ridiculous. The man puts a ring on Mary Margaret’s left hand and all of the sudden he starts making her highly organized lists and reminding everybody of everything at all times. And by everybody she most definitely means herself and possibly Ruby, but since Ruby is dating Mulan, Mulan usually keeps everything organized for the two of them. So that just leaves Emma to be this mess of a person who is pretty much treated like David’s child instead of his friend.

They have a weird relationship, but it’s fine.

And she really does probably need packing lists sent to her two to three times so that she can make sure to pack everything and have time to buy what’s missing on the list. Or, like she’s done now, she can pack the morning of and be missing everything that she needs that she couldn’t find at the Wal-Mart she went to at three in the morning. Some very interesting people were walking the aisles – and she is including herself in that.

Getting hit on while wearing pajama pants with Santa Claus’s face plastered all of over them is not something she ever thought would happen and will probably never happen again.

But David and Mary Margaret have very oddly decided that they want to go camping as some kind of joint bachelor and bachelorette party, and Emma would much prefer a half-a-day thing where they spend the daylight hours wandering around in nature or canoeing and then sleep in a nice, air-conditioned cabin that has beds and indoor plumbing and a solid roof over their heads. But no, the soon-to-be Nolans have decided that they want to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor of a forest. Supposedly, it’s a beautiful place with a gorgeous lake and human-made campsites carved out, but Emma is not going to believe it until she sees it.

This is what happens when you don’t have parents to take you camping as a kid – you are entirely unprepared to live in nature for a little over forty-eight hours even if you do consider yourself a resourceful person like Emma considers herself to be.

“Dry shampoo,” Emma mumbles to herself, moving from her bedroom to her bathroom and grabbing the bottle before shaking it and spraying it into her hair so that her hair won’t be disgusting tomorrow. She’s going to pull it back into double French braids, but still.

David better be bringing snacks on this trip. She is not going to be able to survive without snacks.

Damn.

Why didn’t she buy pop-tarts when she was at the store this morning?

Probably because she was running away from the weirdos who hit on people wearing Santa Claus pajama pants in May.

Oooh, she needs to pack her pajamas.

(She really does need that list.)

Emma’s phone starts buzzing on her bed, and she lunges over her backpack to check it.

Ruby: Get your ass outside. It’s time to go.

-/-

Okay, okay, okay.

So maybe David and Mary Margaret were right about how gorgeous it is out here. Emma wasn’t sure at first, especially with the three-hour drive that it took to get to the campsite and the hour-hike through some pretty shady (literally and figuratively) woods, but once they got to their destination, she was definitely a little more open to it.

Or a lot open to it.

The air is somehow different out here, fresher and less saturated than the air of the city. There are no traces of gas or garbage or the intense crowding of people. Emma loves living in Boston, loves almost everything about it, but sometimes she can do without the crowds and all of the industrialization of the city. Walking out of the hordes of trees and into the open space of the campsite to see the sunshine sparkling down on a clear blue lake that stretches out over the grounds, ripples moving through the water as fish swim and birds coast in the sky, is now one of her favorite views in the world.

The lack of honking horns and people talking on cell phones is pretty refreshing too.

Emma could, however, do without the bugs that are buzzing around her despite the spray she’s soaked her body in and also do without the possibility of bears and snakes coming out of nowhere to attack her.

The random animals walking around terrify her. Obviously, she’s encroaching on their natural habitat, but this wasn’t exactly her idea, okay?

It’s surprisingly easy to set up camp, even if her tent gives her all kinds of fits that explain why it was under fifty dollars, and after it collapses in on itself for a fifth time, David sighs and sets it up for her. She swears that she is a resourceful person, that she could probably survive a little while in the wilderness, but that might be entirely too optimistic thinking with how the whole tent thing went. Nothing like a camping trip to humble expectations on how she would do if she ever signed up for Survivor.

Is that show even still on the air?

As soon as she gets internet service again, she’s finding out.

“Do you find the whole camping and joint bachelor and bachelorette party thing weird?” Ruby asks her as Emma lays out her sleeping bag, tucking her pillow inside so nothing gets on it during the day.

“I find it all extremely weird,” Emma huffs, twisting her head to look at Ruby who has been far too amused by Emma’s struggles today. “Except for the fact that they want to do this together. Two peas in a pod. I never thought the separate weekend trips were going to work out even though I was really looking forward to going to New York.”

“You and me both,” Ruby sighs, plopping down on Emma’s sleeping bag, “but I think this could be fun. I mean, ten of us, some beer, and the wilderness. What could go wrong?”

“As someone whose tent fell apart multiple times, I feel like the answer to that is everything. I have lived in Boston my entire life. I was not made for this.”

“You’ll adapt. I know for a fact that Mary Margaret brought things to make s’mores for you.”

“She did not,” Emma gasps, turning to face Ruby before sitting down on the ground too, a rock hitting her ass. Ruby nods, a smile on her face. “Did she really? God, I love Mary Margaret and her resourcefulness.”

“She also brought you hot chocolate.”

“Even better.”

“And I,” Ruby hums, reaching into the inside of her vest to pull out a flask, “brought whiskey and earplugs just in case all of the couples here get ideas that you, our little spinster, are not taking part in. I mean, you could, but I doubt you’d be quite so loud by yourself.”

Emma can’t help but laugh at Ruby and the smirk on her face. Anybody who brings their own flask of whiskey when they know that David, Victor, and Graham have brought an entire cooler full of drinks is a resourceful woman. And Emma can always go for some spiked hot chocolate. Well, not always, but it does sound nice for sitting around the fire tonight.

And the earplugs. She did not think about that. She doesn’t really want to.

“I love you for that.”

Ruby mock gasps, putting the flask back in her pocket before covering her mouth with her hands. “Don’t tell my girlfriend that.”

“Tell me what?” Mulan questions as she pokes her head to the inside of the tent.

“That I love your girlfriend,” Emma chuckles. She stands from the ground and brushes at her ass, the feel of the rock probably going to be imprinted there forever. “Obviously you have a lot to worry about.”

Mulan rolls her eyes. “I think I’ll be fine for about thirty-two different reasons on that front. Do either of you have a bobby pin? I’ve got this piece of hair that won’t stay back, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“I have a couple in my backpack, babe,” Ruby tells Mulan, not bothering to get up from the ground. “In the bag with my toiletries.”

“Thank you. You guys want to go hiking now that things are set up? I think our other option was fishing.”

“Hiking,” Emma and Ruby say at the same time. “Definitely hiking.”

-/-

“Is everyone wearing sunscreen?”

Mary Margaret has asked that question approximately seventeen times today, and while it has been very much appreciated, now that the sun is setting over the lake, everything cast in an orange glow, no one really needs it. At least, Emma doesn’t. What she needs is something to eat that’s not a bag of trail mix, even if that trail mix was really good. She would know. She ate the entire bag when they went hiking earlier, but they were out there all afternoon long.

She needed substance to survive.

(Okay, so she definitely wouldn’t last on Survivor.)

“Yes, Mom,” Emma teases, picking up her water bottle so that she can take another sip. “We have all protected our skin.”

“You say that like I didn’t save that pale skin of yours earlier by handing you my bottle.”

“True, true,” she sighs before getting up from her folding chair so that she can walk toward Mary Margaret and wrap her arm around her shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re the best.”

“I also brought you snacks. You probably love me for that too.”

“Oh, I do. I’ve been told of the s’mores and hot chocolate, and let me tell you, I can’t wait. It’s what’s going to make sleeping in the wilderness bearable.”

(That kind of sounded like a pun, but it really wasn’t…and now she’s thinking about bears.)

“I think it’s kind of fun. David and I go camping all of the time.”

“You guys literally stayed in a lodge with a spa the last time you went camping.”

“Semantics.”

“David,” Emma yells as her hip bumps into Mary Margaret to tease her, “when is the food going to be ready? I’m starving.”

“You are not actually starving,” David corrects, looking back at her from the grill that’s set up at the campsite. “You’re just in that state of Emma where you’re always slightly hungry.”

“What can I say? I like food.”

David laughs at her before turning around and flipping the hot dogs on the grill. She doesn’t even like hot dogs, but she can’t wait for these.

The rest of the night idles by, everyone beginning to get a little tipsy on beer or Ruby’s smuggled whiskey – definitely a lot of the smuggled whiskey for Emma – and as the sky completely darkens so that the only sources of light are the clear stars in the sky and the large fire that everyone is sitting around, Emma completely settles into being outside camping. This is actually the kind of thing she could get used to.

It’s definitely the whiskey and the s’mores talking.

Probably more the whiskey than anything, but she knows how to hold her liquor and isn’t that affected by it.

So maybe it’s the chocolate.

She doesn’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day all that matters is that David and Mary Margaret are having a good time. This is their weekend, and to watch Mary Margaret have her head rested on David’s shoulder with content smiles on both of their faces is all that matters.

Emma’s not entirely sure if she believes in true love, especially not with her relationship history, but if anyone has it, it’s David and Mary Margaret.

Or, at least, they have a good love that they both choose to work every day for, and that is probably a better qualification of true love anyways.

Little by little, everyone trickles off into their tents. Graham and Belle are the first to go, followed by Ruby and Mulan, Ruby teasing Emma about using her ear plugs. Emma rolls her eyes at that, but when she goes to her tent, zipping it up so that nothing can get in – which is something she doesn’t even want to think about – she does twist her ear plugs before putting them in her ears so she can’t hear anything else.

Better safe than sorry, right?

-/-

The moment Emma’s eyes open, she notices two things.

Her head is killing her.

She really has to pee.

Like, really has to pee.

And after checking her phone and confirming that it’s only a little past three in the morning, Emma reaches over to grab her boots, stuffing her pajamas pants inside of them, and unzips her tent so that she can go find somewhere to pee.

Definitely not the weirdest thing she’s ever done at three in the morning but also not the most normal.

Victor, for some insane reason, has decided to sleep in a hammock outside, and since she can tell that he is very much awake doing whatever it is Victor Whale does while awake in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night, Emma uses the flashlight on her phone to wander into the woods to try to find a tree to pee behind somewhere Victor can’t see or hear.

If they do this again, they’re going somewhere with bathrooms. Emma is putting it in whatever unwritten rule book there is.

Her head is still pounding, the haze of the whiskey and lack of sleep definitely evident, but Emma manages to find a tree, pee behind it, and start working her way back toward the camp.

Only, which way was the camp? To her left or to her right?

Oh shit. Maybe it was neither left nor right and somewhere in between? What’s in between left and right? Straight? Yeah, definitely straight.

“You can do this,” Emma whispers to herself, giggling a little bit when she realizes that she is actually talking to herself.

Is it possible for Ruby’s whiskey to be spiked? Can alcohol be spiked with…more alcohol?

That’s too confusing to even think about it. Maybe she can’t hold her liquor the way she thought she could.

Left. Right. Straight.

Yeah, straight.

Emma trudges through the woods, having to avoid some limbs that she doesn’t remember avoiding the first time. And when did she even wander this far into the woods to begin with?

Damn Victor and his damn sleeping bag.

After what feels like walking for hours, Emma finally sees the opening of the woods back out into the campsite, and it’s just in time since small droplets of water are beginning to fall from the sky that has her putting her phone away in the waistband of her pants, wishing she hadn’t taken her bra off. It’s also what makes Emma hurry to her tent, quickly unzipping the entrance and stepping inside before zipping it back up and toeing out of her boots, thankful to be in the warm, dry enclosure of her tent, fully ready to go back to sleep before her head can hurt her anymore.

“Who the bloody hell are you?”

Okay, so her head is definitely deteriorating or something because that was a British man, and even if that’s what her GPS is set to sound like because she can’t figure out how to change it back to the default voice, she knows that it’s not what the voice inside of her head sounds like.

And the warm hand that she feels on her shoulder can’t be part of her imagination either.

Shit.

She’s about to die, isn’t she? There’s nothing like being about to die that sobers a person up enough to see that she is very much not alone in this tent, the dark shadows of a man skipping across her vision. And where is all of her stuff?

“Are you okay?” the voice says again, and then suddenly there’s a flash of light, a lantern being turned on, and things start to make so much more sense.

Kind of.

Because a grown ass man with black hair and what she thinks are blue eyes is sitting next to her blinking at her with his brows furrowed together and his lips parted. He’s also not wearing any clothes, but the moment she noticed the firm muscles covered with hair and the particular piece of anatomy that males possess (wow, maybe she’s still a little drunk if she can’t even think the word dick), her eyes glanced back up to his face even as her cheeks warmed.

What is happening?

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” Emma finally says, and the man simply blinks at her again.

“Why are you in my tent?”

“I asked you first.”

Wow. Real mature, Emma.

“You broke into my bloody tent.”

“I’m pretty sure this is my tent,” Emma sighs, and she does not at all watch as the man grabs a pair of boxers and pulls them on. “Or, at least, I thought it was. Is this not my tent?”

“No, lass,” he breathes, continuing to get dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, “I don’t believe it is. Are you drunk?”

“Um,” she hums, reaching up to rub at her eyes just to make sure that she’s not hallucinating, and when her surroundings come back to her, she realizes that she most definitely is not.

This is most definitely not her tent.

Holy shit.

Where even is she?

“Shit,” she mutters aloud, standing up only to hit the wires that are holding the tent up, but none of that matters as she reaches down for her boots and stuffs her feet into them, quickly unzipping the tent and stepping outside only to trip on the entrance and stumble out onto the ground.

Face first.

Into the mud.

Because it’s raining.

She knew that. Of course, she knew that.

“Woah, woah, woah, lass,” the man sighs, his hands reaching under her arms to pick her up off the ground. This could not be any more embarrassing. It simply can’t. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my camp so I don’t get murdered by the man I apparently just barged in on.”

“I’m not a murderer.”

Emma blinks up at him as the rain pours down on the two of them, the power of it increasing with every second that she stands out here, and she might as well get pneumonia because she’s going to get murdered anyways.

Positive thinking for the win.

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“I guess you’ll have to trust me,” he sighs, a bright smile on his face that she can see under the moonlight. “How do I know that you’re not a murderer? You’re the one who broke into my tent, after all.”

Emma chuckles and starts shaking her head before reaching up to cover her face with her hands. Her entire body is going to be bruised tomorrow. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I don’t – I may be the slightest bit drunk and was in the woods because I needed a place to pee and I didn’t want to do it near my campsite because Victor was sleeping in a freaking hammock outside. I mean, who does that? He’s so weird, and he’s probably getting soaked in this rain right now and I – ”

There’s a tug on her wrist and suddenly she’s being pulled back into the tent of the mystery man, and if she gets murdered tonight, there’s absolutely no reason for her to regret eating four s’mores.

None at all.

(It was five.)

“W-what are you doing?” she hisses, little bumps rising on her arms as a cold chill settles over her.

“Love, as much as I am enjoying your rambling, I don’t enjoy standing in pouring down rain. We were getting drenched out there.”

“I am not your love.”

“Well, maybe if I knew your name, I could call you something else.”

This man is really attractive, and Emma still isn’t entirely sure that she isn’t dreaming.

“Emma Swan.”

The man smiles before reaching back to scratch behind his ear, a half smile on his lips. “Killian Jones at your service, milady. Now, Swan, you were saying something about walking away from your camp? You’re here with other people, aye?”

“My friends for a, like, super weird joint bachelorette and bachelor party.”

“Ah, well, that explains your state of intoxication. Though, I didn’t know that women were now wearing pajama pants with Santa’s face on them to bachelorette parties. That’s a bloody shame.”

“Ha ha,” she murmurs as she rolls her eyes. “Look, bud, these pants are super comfortable and warm except for right now because I’m covered in rain. Can someone even be covered in rain? Is that a thing?”

Thunder crashes down around them, a slow rumbling that’s followed by bright flashes of lightning, and now all Emma can think is that if she doesn’t get murdered, she’s going to die by lightning strike on her walk back to the camp she’s actually supposed to be in.

(Murder, pneumonia, or a lightning strike: the three most common causes of death.)

How does she even get back? Where in the world is she?

Killian clicks his tongue, and her head snaps away from looking at the roof of the tent to looking at him, and all she wants to do is slap the cocky grin off of his face. Or kiss it.

Woah, okay, that’s definitely the whiskey talking. This is not a romantic comedy. She’s not sleeping with the random man that she found in the woods.

Horror movie. It’s a horror movie. Not a romantic comedy.

Get it together, Emma.

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and really wishing that she hadn’t taken off her bra because this guy can most definitely see her tits through this shirt. Then again, she saw his dick.

What a weird night.

“Well, I’m thinking about this little predicament we’re in,” Killian sighs, pulling his damp shirt over his head so that she gets a good flash of his abs and the trail of dark hair that dips into his pants before he’s throwing on a sweatshirt over his shoulders and all she can see is the messy shock of dark hair on his head. “First of all, you need to get out of those clothes. I have a flannel shirt and some boxers you can wear. I wish I had something different, but I’m afraid I’m going to need my pajama pants since I’ve soaked my jeans.”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m leaving as soon as I figure out how to get back to my friends.”

“Stubborn lass,” he mumbles under his breath before digging through his bag and tossing the clothes at her. She catches them, and she’s about to protest once more when he turns around so that he can’t see her. “And you’re not going to get back to your friends tonight. You may as well wait the four hours until the sun rises, but it’s too dark and the rain is too bad for you to find your way back right now. I imagine you can’t be far, probably just across a little patch of woods, but you were obviously pretty drunk and could have wandered for a long time without realizing it. Have you finished changing so I can turn around now?”

“What? Are you a gentleman or something?” she huffs, pulling her wet shirt over her head before sliding the sleeves of the flannel onto her arms and buttoning it up.

Killian looks behind him, his eyes glancing up and down her body before he winks. “I’m always a gentleman, love.”

“Whatever.” Emma finishes changing clothes, balling up her pajamas and putting them in the corner with her boots as another bout of thunder crashes down around them. “Thanks for the clothes. And the shelter and not murdering me or whatever since I did kind of intrude into your tent.”

He turns around with a nod of his head, but instead of replying to her, Killian bends down and starts unzipping his sleeping bag, spreading it out and laying it on the ground. “Now, Swan,” he sighs, “I know you’ve already seen the family jewels, but I need to get out of these pants and need you to turn around. But you may sit down if you like.”

Emma does what he says, turning around before sitting down on the warmth of sleeping bag, and she very pointedly ignores the sound of his zipper being undone and the rustle of clothes being shed. If only she had those earplugs that Ruby gave her. Those would be pretty helpful right now.

Four hours.

Emma is going to be here for four hours until the sun rises, and she is leaving as soon as she can find her way back. And she is not going to sleep no matter how much it is calling to her. She doesn’t sleep over with men she goes home with at bars, and she’s not sleeping in the vicinity of a man who might be a murderer (even though she doesn’t really think that) who could have been out here waiting for someone to stumble into his tent.

Probably not the best plan.

Probably not his plan at all.

The sleeping bag shifts beneath her, and Emma feels the warm heat of a body next to her, and when she turns to the side, Killian has laid out on the blanket, his arms crossed behind his head, and his feet at the ankles. Is he about to go to sleep?

“So, Swan,” Killian starts, his voice as even as it has been this entire time, “you’re a bit of an open book to me, and I can tell that you very much think I’m going to murder you even though I should think that about you. I’ve not heard of many murderers who wait in tents for their victims to come to them. So, I figure we might as well get to know each other since I imagine there will be no going back to sleep involved here.”

Well, that was kind of a creepy reading of the mind.

Emma twists over on her side and mimics Killian’s position, kind of wishing she had a pillow right now too, but beggars can’t be choosers. Wandering in unknown woods while drunk is definitely topping the list of her worst drunk moments over that time that she asked every woman in the bar if they would be willing to braid her hair because her arms had turned into actual noodles…and then she asked everyone if they had noodles for her to eat.

She still kind of hates Ruby and Belle for allowing her to do that instead of taking her home.

“I’m not sure there’s much to know about me,” she finally tells Killian while light flashes outside.

“Nonsense,” he scoffs, hitting his elbow into her. “You seem plenty interesting. I mean, look at how much excitement you’ve already brought into my boring weekend with my mates. Liam could never be this exciting.”

“Who’s Liam?”

“My older brother. He’s in the tent next to us, is probably wondering why the bloody hell I’m talking to myself, and then down the way are Robin and Will. It was Liam’s birthday on Wednesday, and he decided we should go camping this weekend. So, my brother is just as crazy as your friends for wanting to do this. Though, I suspect maybe I’m a little more equip at camping than you are.”

“What the hell gives you that idea?”

“The fact that you are in my tent.”

“True,” she sighs, completely and totally ignoring just how good this guy’s shirt smells. And it’s also really warm. Warm enough that she doesn’t really want to give it up. “What do you do, Killian Jones? And are you British? You sound British.”

“That’s because I am.” Emma twists her head back to the side only to find Killian grinning at her with that cheeky smile and a raised brow that she imagines must be what he does when he’s charming someone. “I’m a writer, actually. I’ve got a couple books out now, nothing big or anything, but it pays the bills. As do the occasional articles I write. It’s…tough, you know, because sometimes my mind doesn’t cooperate and the industry sucks, but I love it. And I’m able to live in your country because of it too, which is a plus since my publishing company is American.”

Okay, so British dude whose tent she invaded is a writer. That’s honestly pretty cool, and she is most definitely going to look up his books when she gets internet back. Not that she’s going to tell him that. He seems to have a bit of an ego even if it is a charming one.

“Well, that’s fancy. Am I going to end up in one of your books?”

“Absolutely. I’m already plotting it in my mind.”

“Of course you are.”

“So, love, what do you do for a living? I need to know as research for my book.”

Emma laughs, twisting a bit on the ground to make herself more comfortable. “I’m a cop.”

“Badass, Swan.”

A little swell of pride swells within her. Damn right she’s badass. “I know. I’m usually not a bumbling drunk idiot crashing tents, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I can tell. You were too flustered for this to be your first time, and you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

“Is that supposed to be an innuendo?”

“Always,” he chuckles, waggling his brows across his forehead, and her stomach does this little weird twisting thing inside of her. “So, tell me about these friends of yours who are celebrating their upcoming nuptials in the woods.”

And that’s exactly how Emma starts weaving the tale of Mary Margaret Blanchard, David Nolan, and the weird, sickeningly sweet, wonderful love story that they have. She most likely gives a little too much detail, which she blames on the lingering effects of the whiskey-s’more hangover, and that tiny underlying fear of what exactly this situation right now involves. Obviously, there are no rules for her life in these odd hours between night and dawn, and when Killian doesn’t tell her to shut up, she takes that as a sign to keep going despite the fact that she has probably never talked this much to someone she has known for under two hours in her entire life.

Sometimes she doesn’t even talk this much to her closest friends.

That does something to her insides, twisting around her heart and either the large or small intestine, but Emma is easily able to ignore it as Killian asks her questions about her friends and shares little snippets of his own, reaffirming what she already knew about the fact that every single person on earth is at least a little bit crazy. If they’re put together in a group, however, the craziness factor multiplies tenfold.

Killian is thirty-two years old, though he says he sometimes feels much older than that, and honestly, she believes it with the way that he talks, all quick wit and flowery words that are laced with innuendo. It might be a British thing. She’s not sure. She’s only ever met one other British person in her life, and that was only for thirty seconds while he asked her how to get downtown.

But this particular Brit is charming and funny and has her laughing so much that her stomach hurts nearly as much as her head is really starting to with the hangover that’s really coming in. He reads, like, all the time, which makes sense for his profession, but he’s also one of those people who does in-depth research for his books by actually going out and doing the activity he’s describing. It sounds a little extra for her, but it’s apparently how he got into both kickboxing and sailing, as well as being able to mix a mean drink, and she can appreciate all of those things.

Kickboxing because she enjoys that, sailing because it seems kind of cool, and a good mixed drink because, well, that one is kind of obvious.

The conversation flows so easily, a natural progression that almost seems false in its genuine state, that Emma doesn’t notice that the rain has stopped pounding down on the tent or that thunder is no longer making her jump every few seconds. And she definitely doesn’t notice that sunlight is beginning to peek through.

But Killian does, and when he brings it up, disappoint washes over her.

Why in the world is she disappointed that she has to go back to her friends? And her clothes. And oh God, her toothbrush. Her breath is probably awful right now.

Her clothes are still soaked through, so Killian insists that she can keep on her measly borrowings from him, and so looking like the most ridiculous person in the world wearing an oversized flannel shirt, boxers, and a pair of hiking boots, Emma steps out of the tent only to come face to face with three other men all sitting around a firepit drinking coffee.

“Damn, Jones,” one of them whistles, “I knew you knew how to pick up women, but doing it out in the middle of the woods is damn impressive.”

“Shut up, Scarlet.”

Ah, she thinks, so that’s the Will she’s been told about.

And the one with blue eyes and curly hair is likely Liam so the one remaining is Robin.

“Lads,” Killian continues, walking toward the fire and grabbing a canister sitting on the griddle before pouring what looks like coffee into a mug, “this is Emma. Emma and her friends are camping somewhere nearby. I’m thinking across that patch of woods since she mentioned a lake. But Emma, here, was a tad bit intoxicated last night – ” At this he hands her the cup of coffee, and she is even more thankful for him “ – and got a bit turned around when she was relieving herself. And then the storm started, so she stayed with me for a bit. Though nothing untoward happened. On my honor.”

Her cheeks heat at that, but she ignores them and takes a sip of the coffee, also ignoring the fact that she probably just burned her tongue and also that there is absolutely no creamer or milk or sugar in this. But caffeine is caffeine, and that’s all that matters.

“Hello,” she croaks out, waving her hand in the air at the three of them. This is about ten thousand times more awkward than barging in on a naked stranger last night. Oh shit, she really did that. “It’s nice to meet all of you. Thanks for the coffee.”

“That’s a nice outfit you’ve got on there,” Liam laughs, shaking his head the slightest bit. “I trust my little brother is telling the truth when it comes to him being a gentleman last night.”

“Younger,” Killian quickly corrects, looking between she and Liam. “I am your younger brother, and yes, as I told you, I was a gentleman.”

“I mean, he was alright,” Emma teases as her eyes squint up at the rising sun. “He didn’t give me his pillow, I saw his dick, and he wouldn’t stop talking, but other than that, he was great.”

Liam, Robin, and Will all break out into laughter that has her shoulders straightening a little bit and her confidence rising as she arches her brow at Killian. He looks both affronted and impressed with his parted lips and raised eyebrows, and that’s exactly what she was going for there.

“I thought you said you were a gentleman, Killian,” Robin laughs. He puts his mug down on the ground and wipes away at his eyes. “How did she see your dick if you were being a gentleman? Were you pitching a tent…inside of your tent? Talk about inception.”

“Alright,” Killian sighs over the laughter of all of his friends – and her too – before he wraps his arm around her shoulder in a touch that very literally might send all of the lightning strikes from last night down her spine, “I think I should probably help Emma find her friends before they start missing her, and I fully expect the lot of you to have cooked breakfast by the time I get back, yeah?”

“You can have some peanuts and whatever you catch in the lake.”

“You’re awfully cheeky for it to be so early in the morning, Will,” Killian sighs, squeezing his hand against her shoulder.

“I got a great night’s sleep last night. Unlike you, obviously, because you look like shit.”

“That’s all on Emma.”

“Hey,” she scoffs in protest even if she knows that it’s true. “You could have gone to sleep.”

“And run the risk of you murdering me? Never.” He cocks a smile at her, one that’s slanted and boyish and probably charms all of the girls Will was teasing him about, before tilting his head back toward the woods. “You ready to go, Swan?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, taking one more giant gulp of coffee, “I guess I am.”

With her phone – still without any kind of signal because apparently they are in the most remote place on the planet even though Boston is less than three hours away – and her wet clothes in hand, the two of them start trekking around the perimeter of the woods so that Emma can figure out where in the world her friends are. She knows that she definitely came through the woods, and Killian’s got a pretty good idea of the area now that it’s sunlight outside, so they should be able to find it.

Hopefully.

How far can someone really wander while drunk?

That seems like it’d be a really funny question to google. The answers would be something else.

“So, your friends are interesting,” Emma says, trying to think of some kind of small talk. It’s not awkward walking in the woods, but she can still feel the lingering effects of Killian’s hand on her shoulder and figures talking might make it go away no matter how illogical that is. “Well, friends and brother.”

“They’re a bunch of assholes who I didn’t think would be awake,” Killian sighs, holding up a stray branch for her to walk under, “but I do love them.”

“That’s how all friends are, I think. At least, I think so. If not, we’ve surrounded ourselves with the wrong people. Then again, I kind of think I can be an asshole sometimes, so I probably deserve asshole friends.”

“You? An asshole? Never.”

“I feel like we have not known each other long enough to mess with each other like this.”

“Then what the hell is it you were doing back at my campsite with my friends?”

“Valid point,” Emma laughs before stopping in her tracks to try to see if any of this looks familiar. It all just looks like…wood. And leaves. “Do you know where we are?”

“Aye. We need to keep going straight. I think the rest of the campsites are out on the other side.”

“Whatever you say. I’m still not entire convinced that you’re just leading me into the woods to murder me.”

Killian barks out a laugh, his head thrown back, before he places his hand on the small of Emma’s back and gently guides her forward. “Swan, I promise you that you are going to make it out of this situation alive.” “Whatever you say, Jones.”

They idly chat as twigs and leaves crunch underneath their boots, and even though Emma knows that it’s been at least a fifteen-minute walk (damn, drunk Emma), it surprises her when the two of them walk through a clearing of the woods and the familiar sites of her actual campsite come into play.

Okay, so Killian’s tent doesn’t at all look like hers.

What the hell was she even thinking?

Obviously, she wasn’t.

“This you, love?”

“Yep,” she sighs, looking over at David and Ruby sitting by their firepit with mugs in their hands before turning around to look up at Killian. He’s smiling, that crooked one, and his messy hair has at least two leaves in it. Camping is really not for everyone, and they’ve still got another day of it. Hopefully tonight she won’t wander into a random man’s tent. “This is me. Thanks for not murdering me.”

There’s a subtle shake of his head, those lashes landing against his cheeks, and the smile stays there. “You are ridiculous.”

“You like it.”

“Yeah,” Killian mumbles while his hand reaches up to scratch at his scruff, “I do. You are surprisingly quite the charmer.”

“I don’t think it’s surprising at all.” Killian laughs at her shrug of her shoulders before swaying into her space, the toes of his boots knocking into the toes of hers, and her breath hitches at the touch. “So, thanks for helping me find my way back. I promise I won’t barge into your tent in the middle of the night. Though, you should really think about wearing clothes. Just in case and all.”

“Just in case,” he repeats, and Emma fills a chill run down the back of her spine at the dark tone of his voice. “Or, you know, you could. I don’t think I’d mind. You do have to give me my clothes back.”

Her eyes roll, but her heart flutters all the same. Emma is not the type of girl to meet a guy and immediately hit it off. There are too many things in her past, too many bad relationships that have burned up in flames, but she’s not committing to life here. She may not even be committing to anything at all. It was a weird night, and she might as well let it roll into a weird, wonderful morning.

“I think I’m going to have to keep them.”

“Huh, then maybe I’ll have to stumble into your tent in the middle of the night to get them back.”

“I’ll make sure I’m dressed again in my Santa Claus pajama pants.”

Killian laughs as his head dips so that his lips can tentatively press against hers. He’s as unsure of everything as she is, which makes a hell of a lot of sense considering how weird this situation is, but Emma responds to the kiss, slowly moving her lips against his as her hands move up Killian’s arms, gripping onto the soft material of his sweater as Killian’s hands thread into her hair, familiar and yet entirely unfamiliar shivers covering her body as soft lips move against and with hers.

What a few hours.

What a damn good kisser.

Emma pulls back, not entirely sure what kind of pacing is going on here or what she should do, and she laughs when she remembers that she hasn’t brushed her teeth and probably has awful breath. Then again, so does Killian.

Obviously the height of romance.

“Why are you laughing? I don’t usually have women laugh at me during a kiss.”

“Well, that’s because you’re not kissing women who probably have bad breath and smell like a forest.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Emma pulls back and slaps his chest, which really only makes Killian waggle his brows across his forehead, the confidence coming off of him in waves.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Only a little.”

“Or at lot.”

“Definitely a lot,” he laughs before kissing her cheek and squeezing her hip. “Do you want to go to dinner with me sometime? Preferably when we’ve both had the opportunity to shower and brush our teeth. A proper getting to know each other.”

“Can we go somewhere with air-conditioning?”

“Absolutely,” he smiles.

“Then yeah,” Emma sighs, pressing up on her toes to kiss Killian’s cheek, “we can go to dinner sometime. You can also come back to get your clothes sometime today.”

“You going to see if you can google me before that?”

“Damn right.”

Emma steps away then, walking backward to the camp and waving Killian away before turning around to walk between the tents where Ruby and David are sitting with their jaws practically on the floor.

“What the hell was that?” David starts.

“Who the hell was that?” Ruby continues.

Sighing, Emma sits down on the folding chair and looks at her friends. “Man do I have a story to tell you guys.”

-/-

Killian and his friends join their group for dinner later that night, but the dinner with brushed teeth and styled hair – plus that ever-important air-conditioning – comes a week later in Boston.

Killian is her date for Mary Margaret and David’s wedding two months later.

Two years later, they get engaged in a tent with Emma wearing her Santa Claus pajama pants and Killian wearing his boxers, but she insists that he takes them off, for authenticity and all.

And the story of how they met most definitely ends up in one of Killian’s books.

It’s a murder mystery.

[ramenkween]

Lover

Billy Hargrove x female reader

Summary: Billy has found peace and happiness since meeting you one month after the events of July 4 1985. Five years later, you and Billy reside in a small beach house in California and celebrate your first Christmas there.

Words: 2,580

 inspired by the song Lover by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: none, apart from the fact this is super long and I am so so sorry for that! I got really excited when writing this but I hope you all like it, this is my first Billy x female reader fic ever!

 …

Santa Monica, California

1990

You and Billy have been living in the bustling city of Santa Monica, California for almost 6 months. It was everything you both wanted; to be away from Hawkins, Indiana, and in the place where you both dreamed of being. Billy spoke of California non-stop since you both declared your love for each other one starry night in a football field of a town you longed to get away from. You suggested Santa Monica as your place to reside after going on a date to the movies to watch The Lost Boys, where Santa Monica was renamed Santa Carla. So, the two of you were determined to make that dream possible; with the help of your supportive parents (who loved and accepted Billy the moment you introduced him to them) and after working a series amount of jobs and saving every penny you received, you left behind the dreaded town of Hawkins, Indiana in the rainy sight of Billy’s rear-view mirror, awaiting the sunshine and sea salt waves of Santa Monica. Billy joked that if there were any more vampires lurking there, you’d be fully ready thanks to Corey Feldman and Jamison Newlander’s handy guide to vampire slaying.

The beach house you bought there was very small, but the two of you didn’t care. It looked run down and was in need of serious repair when you bought it, but the two of you worked hard to make it yours. The two of you continued to work to pay for other expenses; Billy secured a job as Santa Monica Beach’s lifeguard and surfing instructor, gaining the attention of all the women yet again. But Billy ignored them all; he knew his heart was yours. You worked as a barmaid at the pier’s popular barcade – a place where adults can drink and play Pac-Man at the same time. It wasn’t the greatest salary of course, but it was enough to keep you sustained.

 Santa Monica was also just an hour’s drive away from Billy’s mother, too. You had the pleasure of finally meeting her; she’s as beautiful as Billy described her, and even more so kind. You have her over as much as you can and it makes Billy happy. You remember when you first invited her over for dinner; when you finished and was in the kitchen washing up you overhear a conversation between the two of them.

“Billy… I’m so sorry” she started to cry. “I am so, so sorry that I never came back for you. I should’ve come back for you…” Billy quickly pulled his mother into his arms and gently embraced her. Billy was a lot taller than her now as he kissed her forehead.

“Mom, it’s okay” he comforted her as he held her face in his hands. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I just wish you didn’t have to go with your father… I wish I was there for you…” Billy sat her down at the table which was half cleaned.

“Listen to me” he spoke gently. “If I hadn’t gone to Hawkins, I wouldn’t have met Y/N. She makes me happy, mom. And now that we’re both here, we’re not going anywhere.”

Billy’s mom wiped her tears away and let out a small laugh as you entered the room, wiping your hands. They both looked at you.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt –”

“Don’t be silly” she murmured. “Y/N, come here.” She took your hand as you approached her, placing it on top of Billy’s hand. She covered both your hands with hers, gripping it tightly.

“You’re both wonderful people” she started to say. “Look after each other in this new life you have together. Remember that along the way you will have your disagreements, but love is the most important thing you both have. You have each other, and that’s all that matters in the world.”

You and Billy looked at each other, hearts full of love and wonder. His eyes sparkled the way they always did when he looked at you, and you always had the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

“I love your son more than anything” you said without taking your eyes off Billy. “There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for him.”

The night went on with just the three of you; it was the happiest you’d both been.  

Three months after moving there, Billy even surprised you with a new addition to your lives; a black and white Siberian husky puppy. You were over the moon and ever so excited to raise her. Billy specifically got a husky since it resembled a wolf but also remembered a brief conversation the two of you had years ago; you told him that his spirit animal would most definitely be a wolf because of their representation of freedom and perseverance. They also conveyed strength and courage – all the key factors you’ve seen Billy portray since that night on Fourth of July five years ago.

“We’ll call her Liberty” he said, smiling whilst cradling her in his arms. “Libby for short. What do you think?”

A smile stretched across your face as you admired the view of Billy gently swaying your new puppy. “Liberty Hargrove. It’s perfect.”

And it really was. Your life was perfect in every aspect of the word.

 The house overlooked Santa Monica beach below and the two of you would surf almost every day at sunrise; Billy taught you how to ride the waves like he promised and showed you to be fearless of the waters. When you’d finish surfing and return to your beloved home, you’d make breakfast while Billy took Libby out for a quick walk around the neighbourhood. You made friends quickly and was pretty much welcomed by the community. Some nights after a busy day at work, you’d make room in your small living room to slow dance to the rock ballads of your senior year of high school. You’d pick Libby up and sway her along with you when she started getting insistent to join in on the fun. On your days off together, which would be on some weekdays and most weekends, you would simply relax together in the living room with the doors wide open, catching the sea breeze and morning sun on your skins; you’d be sitting cross-legged on the sofa reading a book while Billy sat on the floor opposite, strumming small tunes on the acoustic guitar you gifted him for his 19th birthday.

“Sounds beautiful, baby” you’d tell him while reading. Billy let out a low chuckle as he played around with the strings. “I may or may not be writing a song for you” he teased. That same night when Libby had drifted to sleep, he’d start singing you a song about a man who loved a goddess of the sea. His voice was slightly out of tune and raspy, but you loved it nonetheless. After longing kisses and confessions of how much you both loved one another, it would carry on to an endless night of passionate lovemaking. Two souls connecting as one, never wanting to let go of one another and losing yourself in the thrill of it all. You’d both sleep in the next morning, locked in each other’s naked embrace and tangled in the sheets of the fun from the night before. You’d usually be the first to wake up to admire Billy’s sleeping face, curly blonde hair partially covering his face and his cheek pressed against the pillow. You sweep his hair away from his face and give him gentle kisses on his forehead, the tip of his nose before softly kissing his lips, feeling him smile as you do.

“Good morning, angel” you whisper as you stroke his cheek with your fingertips.

“Hey baby” he said with his rumbly morning voice.

“Would you like some breakfast?” You asked. Billy perched up and groaned a morning stretch; eyes half open as he enthusiastically stated what he wanted.

“Umm… I want… Some pancakes… with the fresh strawberries in the mixture like you always do. Pretty please?”

You give him a passionate kiss before getting out of bed and dressing yourself with the burgundy shirt Billy wore the night before, making your way to your small kitchen. You’d then know that the rest of the day would be perfect.  You and Billy lived the simple life together contently and happily for the past 6 months. It couldn’t get any better than this… could it?

 Christmas Eve, 1990

 It was your first Christmas together in your small beach house in the city. You and Billy had put up the tree two weeks ago, taking Polaroid photos as you went along. The tree was almost as tall as Billy and you decorated it with ornaments and lights, topping it with a silver star. Christmas Eve came around; you and Billy planned a small gathering with some friends you made in your time living there. Billy’s mom was there too, but she didn’t stay for too long as she had plans with friends of her own. Your parents sent a postcard from Hawkins, saying how much they missed you both and wished you a Merry Christmas for your first one away from them. 

Much later the gathering came to an end and your guests went home, leaving you and Billy alone. As you prepared to clean, Billy took his arms around your waist and beckoned you to set them aside for now while you join him for a slow dance in the silence.

“Finally some alone time with my girl,” he said as he kissed your forehead. Libby whined in the background. Billy rolled his eyes and you both laughed.

“We love you too, Libby” you reassured. You wrapped your arms around Billy’s neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. You continued to dance in the quiet atmosphere.

We can leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds, or 20 years?

 “What’s on your mind, babe?” you whispered up at him. He looked down at you.

“Nothing, just… you.”

“What about me?” you ask.

“Everything about you. I’m happy you’re here.”

 Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You’re my, my, my, my lover

 “Would you have believed it if five years ago someone told you you’d be here with me?” you question. He slowly dips you backwards and up again, cradling you against the crook of his neck.

“I’d tell them they’re crazy. There is no way I thought I’d ever be here with you, in this place, this life. We took a while but we’re here.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Of course, baby. I’d do it all again if I had to.”

 We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want them all

 Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You’re my, my, my, my lover

 After a quick kiss, Billy pulls away from you and holds your hands as he slowly gets down on one knee. You feel your heart race against your chest.

“Billy… What… What are you doing?!”

Billy says nothing for a moment as he admiringly looks at you. He takes a deep breath and you feel his hands shaking.

“I was gonna do this tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Y/N, I thought I was gonna die that night. In fact, I was ready to. I’d been an asshole most of my life, and I thought people would be better off without me, you know? But then I’d been given a second chance, and then I met you. And you made me a better man than I ever thought I could be, and you make me happy. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not gonna risk losing you. So, if you let me…” Billy reached for his back pocket and pulled out a silver ring with a small diamond, holding it up to you. “I want to make the most of my second chance with you forever.”

You start to blink rapidly, trying your best to hold back your tears.

“Oh my god, oh my god…” you feel like you’re about to explode.

“Y/N, I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?”

“Are you freaking kidding me?! YES!” before Billy could say anything, you tackle him to the ground and embrace him tightly. He wraps his strong arms around you and rolls you to your back so he hovers over you. Libby happily barks as she tries to jump at both of you with full energy.

“You’re serious right now?” he asked. You cup his cheek and see that his eyes are glistening with tears.

“I am so serious, baby. I want to marry the shit out of you.”

Billy sighs happily as he slides the ring on your finger. He leans down to kiss you before lying on the floor next to you. He takes your hand with the shiny ring and presses it to his lips.

“Mrs Y/N Hargrove… I could get used to that” you say as you admire the ring.

“Oh man, mom is gonna be so happy when I tell her” Billy exclaims. You begin to reminisce the night in the football field when you were both 18; you lay in the cold grass as you looked up at the starry night sky when Billy told you he loved you for the first time. That moment you realised you loved him too. Never had you even dared to dream that he would ask to marry you years later.

“You know we still have to clean, right?” you gestured to the messy table across you. Billy groaned, “In a minute. I want to just spend this moment with my new fiancée”. With that, he gets up off the floor walks over to your record player and puts on a slow song. He extends his hand, “Dance with me again?”

You gather yourself from the floor and take his hand. He pulls you in close and within seconds you’re slowly moving together to the beat of the song.  

“I love you, Billy Hargrove. I love you so damn much.”

Billy brushes your hair behind your ear, gently stroking your jaw.

“I love you too, baby. Forever.”

 Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force-of-a-man to be my lover

My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I’ll save you a seat, lover

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You’re my, my, my, my

Oh you’re my, my, my, my

Darling, you’re my, my, my, my lover

[s-nebul0sa]

Do you know what it’s like Part 3

Part 1 and Part 2 Read on AO3

Christmas morning is upon them in the blink of an eye and Lena groggily wakes up to loud high-pitched screaming telling her and James, “it is time! Hurry up sleepy-heads!”

She’s never celebrated Christmas with an excitable, impatient kid. She’s never really celebrated Christmas at all, unless fancy dinners and impersonal expensive gifts — mainly given for show — count. 

“Ss too early,” Lena slurs, pulling a pillow over her head to try and keep all the sounds out. 

James laughs, a deep rumble that doesn’t care about the pillow Lena has clutched over her ears and just resonates through it. She pulls it away and angrily glares at him. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” he tells her, walking over and kissing her between her brows where she knows a crinkle is present. He affectionately cards his hand through her hair and she uses his arm to pull him closer, making him fall back on the bed. “I’d advise you to get up before Dax decides you need help and storms up the stairs.”

Lena grumbles and burrows into James’s side a little more before sighing and resigning herself to the fact she has to get up. She throws the covers off and immediately regrets it when the cold air hits her whole body, making her hairs stand on end and her skin break out in goose bumps. “Shit, it’s cold.”

James quickly holds a bathrobe up for her to slip into. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he slips his feet in a pair of slippers. 

“Glad you insisted I take a nap yesterday before mass.” She punctuates her statement with a yawn and pulls the robe a little tighter around her. “What time is it even?”

“Six thirty,” James replies with a smirk, holding the door open for Lena so they can join the rest downstairs.

“No way.” Lena glances at her phone and curses under her breath when she sees James is right. “I’m glad we don’t have one of those running around every morning.”

James starts. “You don’t want kids?”

“Hmm?” Lena stops walking and turns around. “We talked about this, didn’t we? With you, I do if you want that too. I’m just saying I don’t mind we don’t have any right now. I’d like to enjoy my mornings a while longer.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you’d changed your mind for a moment there,” James admits. 

“If I did, I wouldn’t spring it on you like this,” she reassures him as she walks over to stand in front of him. “But we barely moved in together so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. We’ll figure it out and I don’t mind too much either way.” Lena shifts to her tiptoes, pulling a little on James’s collar to get him down to her level for a kiss. “Don’t tell me for now you don’t enjoy getting to sleep in when you want to.”

“Oh, I do. I really do,” James acknowledges, pressing close for another kiss. 

From the bottom of the stairs a shrill voice interrupts their moment. “Old people are so slow! Hurry up or you won’t get any presents.”

They breathe out a laugh and lean their foreheads together for a moment to enjoy each other’s closeness just a second longer before pulling apart and descending the stairs. At the bottom, Dax is waiting for them with a stern look on his face. 

“So bossy,” James jokes, ruffling Dax’s hair before wrapping his arm around Lena’s back so they can descend the rest of the stairs together. Dax is impatiently trying to speed them up and complaining about how slow, like snails, they are. 

They’re all huddled together around the Christmas tree, presents spilling out from underneath it, all with neatly written tags with names on them. 

“Dax, honey, why don’t you explain to Lena how we always celebrate Christmas?” Olivia suggests. Dax immediately puts on a serious face and stands up in front of the adults as a teacher. 

“First, everyone gets to open one, one-” he raises a single tiny finger to emphasise his point- “present from Santa. Those are in the socks. Then, we have breakfast and go for a walk to show we have patience and aren’t greedy. And then we get to open the presents together. Only one at a time so we don’t have, uhm, mommy?” He looks to Olivia for help and immediately gets it.

“Chaos,” she gently fills in for him.

“Yes, that. Chaos. Because that’s not nice. We always start with the rest of Santa’s gifts and then we do the gifts from grandma and mommy and daddy and uncle James and you and me. Santa always gives small gifts so don’t be sad if he gives something small because he has a lot of other kids to give gifts.” Dax proceeds by taking one gift from each stocking and handing it to the designated person.

Lena is still baffled they went through the effort to get her a stocking. She’s only ever had a dainty one with frilly lace, too small for gifts and only hung up for show in the room her parents would receive people in. 

Dax hands her a small round object before taking his own gift and sitting back down on a pillow on the floor.

“Now you can open it,” Dax announces.

Lena carefully pries loose the tape and unwraps the gift, ignoring Dax’s excited shouting about receiving a banana himself. Her gift contains a small mandarin with a smiley face drawn in sharpie on the smooth skin. She can’t help the smile that spreads on her face as she looks down at the fruit. 

“Ohhhh!!” Dax cheers as he looks at her mandarin. “If your fruit is happy it means you’ve been good this year. Look, my banana is happy too because I’ve been a good boy.” He shows her his banana with a winking smiley drawn on its peel. 

After breakfast, which consists of a fruit salad with all their smiling fruits, waffles and eggs, they dress themselves warmly to go for a walk outside. It’s not necessarily freezing cold but warm is different. No snow has fallen yet, seemingly waiting for the new year to arrive before doing so, and the sky is clear and bright. The breeze is biting and Lena is glad for her scarf and gloves. She burrows her nose a little further in the fabric to keep her nose from getting too cold.

Dax runs ahead of the group, chasing ducks away from the pond they pass and pointing out each and every animal and vehicle he says. Everything gets a story and he rambles on and on about them, his words flying away on the wind as he runs away again. Lena cannot fathom having so much energy. They’re about halfway, she asked a few minutes ago, and she can already feel her body begging her to stop walking. It’s not necessarily a long walk but the cold is eating at her and makes her limbs feel like she’s wading through water. 

Slowly, she starts lagging behind. She started walking in the front with Mary but now, she’s the last one of the group and the distance between her and them is increasing. James, of course, notices and slows down to walk by her side. He offers his arm and Lena wants to refuse it; she doesn’t need help walking. Except, she does. It takes her only a short moment to get over her pride and loop her own arm with James’s. She refuses to lean on him, though. It’s just a small support, she’s not going to use James as a crutch. 

After a short while, Lena gets the break she’s been wanting but was too stubborn to ask for. Dax has found a tree surrounded by pine cones and insists on collecting all of them before finishing the walk. Not wanting a fight on Christmas morning, Olivia relents and lets Dax start piling all the pine cones. She tells him he can pick one to bring home, the rest he has to leave behind. That sets Dax on the search for the best one of the batch. Lena, James and Maria find a bench nearby to sit on while they wait.

Eventually, Dax has narrowed his choice down to two possible pine cones to bring home. First, he shows them to his parents and asks for their opinion and then he trots to the bench and lets Maria, James and Lena voice their opinions. 

Lena ends up telling Dax about math in nature. She explains how the Fibonacci sequence shows up in many plants and flowers, also in pine cones. Dax curiously listens and soaks it all up. Maybe it’s a little advanced for his level of understanding but he seems interested and asks questions whenever they arise so Lena happily explains more and more about it.

“I love you,” James says softly when Lena’s done answering all of Dax’s questions and the boy has run off to put back the newly rejected pine cone — it’s Fibonacci numbers weren’t as pretty as the other one. Lena turns to look up at James. His eyes are soft and starry, smile soft and warm and his hand reaching out for hers. 

“I love you too, darling.” Lena looks at James’s gooey eyes and completely out of this world expression and appends her sentence, “but why are you suddenly so sentimental?”

“You’re just so patient and never give up. Not when he asks difficult questions—” James points at Dax who’s running around in the distance— “or when work gets hard or when your body gets in the way. And I just— I realised I don’t want to grow old without you.”

James’s admission leaves Lena teary-eyed and as she quickly wipes away the water in the corner of her eyes, she playfully swats at her boyfriend. “None of that mushiness, James Olsen. We’d said no moving too fast. I’m not dying, we can take our time. We can grow old together but no proposals just yet.” She raises a warning finger causing James to burst out in a deep, bellowing laugh. He throws his head in his neck as his voice booms through the park. 

Lena can’t help smile at James’s loud laughter. It takes him a bit to calm down and stop laughing, but when he does so, he pulls her close and embraces her tightly. 

“Please don’t ever change,” he whispers in her hair. 

She doesn’t reply. They both know changing is inevitable. Only the last year is enough proof of that already. But she gets what he means. Not ‘don’t change’ but ‘don’t lose who you are in the process’, a sentiment she wishes for him too. 

James presses a kiss to Lena’s head and Lena returns one to his neck, the only place she can currently reach. He makes the world seem just a little less daunting for her. She grounds him. They’re not each other’s better halves but just two pieces of a large puzzle that happen to fit together well. The only thing with the potential to drive a wedge between them, though Lena is still very much unaware of the possibility as well as the truth, is Supergirl’s identity.

[shady-glasses]

(31) Question For Your OTP - SeroKami

Is it SeroKami? KamiSero? Idk man. @tenseii told me to post this so they could read it so here you are!

Original Post

1. Who in your OTP is the serial butt-slapper and who is constantly getting their beautiful butt slapped?

You would think it's Kaminari? But it's actually Sero. A good slap on the butt after a good training session amongst bro's that leaves Kaminari flustered and red faced mayhaps?

2. Who wants to be immortal and who wants to die before they’re old?

Kaminari is ready to go okay, but Sero is like “death? Nah.. not, yknow, feeling that..”

3. Who smokes and who pulls the cigarette from between their lips every time they try to light one?

Kaminari tried to smoke once in high school to look cool, and Sero would put up a big fuss, which Kaminari actually appreciated because it gave him a perfect excuse to stop and, thank god, he actually hates smoking.

4. Who always has cold hands and who is always warming them up for them?

Sero is a skinny tol boi with zero circulation who always has freezing hands. Kami 'warms them up' (i.e Sero puts them up his shirt and uses his lower back for warmth while smiling as Kaminari shrieks)

5. Who plays candy crush in important meetings and who elbows them in the ribs to make them pay attention?

I'd say Kami, except for instead of candy crush, it's the minecraft pocket edition.

6. Who can fall asleep anywhere (and does) and who has to put them to bed?

I empathize with this cuz?? thats me af?? but I'd say Sero during exams. He probably stays up all night and crashes right after so Kaminari piggy back carries him back to the dorms, but not before drawing on his face.

7. Who is the genius procrastinator who wings every test but still comes away with straight As, and who takes preparation and conscientious work very seriously?

They both kinda stupid lol. But Kaminari is by far the one who tries to 'wing it' the most.

8. Who takes their coffee black and who likes it with milk and two sugars, getting called a pussy by Person A?

Sero doesn't even really like coffee, however, when he has it he takes it b l a c k because unlike SOME people,, hes not a pussy

9. Who initially seems shady but turns out to be a cinnamon bun, and who initially seems like a cinnamon bun but turns out to be shady?

Everyone in 1a thinks Sero is soooooo soft and sooooo friendly, and they almost don't believe the  “one time he filled my shoes with whip cream at a sleep over” stories. And then Kaminari is just trying his best over here, drinking his respecting women juice, staying in his lane (most of the time).

10. Who moans and talks with their mouth full whenever they eat good food, and who tells them to stfu but can’t help laughing?

Kaminari is loud at everything he does and just doing that teenage boy thing where they moan and Sero is like “dude stop” and they make a bunch of over-exaggerated sex moans with a mouthful of cheeseburger and Sero is laughing and trying to cover his mouth like “OHMYGOODNESS, DUDE, STOP WE'RE IN PUBLIC!”

11. Who gives the bear hugs and who is always sidling up to them and snaking their arms around their waist?

Kaminari just like.. hugs.. okay.. like, he and Kirishima are chronic platonic cuddlers, but that doesn't mean he's had his fill of boyfriend hug time so

12. Who still buys juice boxes and fruit snacks to put in their lunch?

Kaminari FOR SURE. He may be a 22 year old pro hero with a real job, but fuck you fruit-by-the-foot still go just as fucking hard as they did when he was five so yes he's still going to eat them

13. Who packs the other’s lunch and who repays them in sexual favours?

You know Sero does the shopping, so that is def where the fruit snacks in Kami's lunch come from so, y'know, Kami has gotta show his appreciation somehow? ;) ;) ;)

14. Who leaves notes in the other’s lunch and who tells them they’re dumb (but secretly has a collection of every note Person A has ever written them)?

They both do! But not just in lunches, also on laptop screens, on the bathroom mirror, on the microwave, etc. Being pro heroes mean it's hard to find time to see each other even when they live together, so little notes get left out to show they were still thinking of the other.

15. Who unconsciously holds their breath the first time they kiss, and who pulls back and says, “Breathe…”?

Ohhhh def Kami, cuz lets be real, its 100% his first kiss, and he's really scared of fucking it up.

But it's short and goes fine, and is so much more perfect than he imagined, and he thought all first kisses were supposed to be awkward but? It wasnt? And all the emotions build in his chest and he's not quite ready to open his eyes yet because it's kind of a lot right now. And he can feel Sero's breath ghost over his lips as he run's a hand through the buzzed blonde hair at the back of his neck and tells him to, “Breath” with a little laugh.

16. Who gets arrested for a petty crime they committed by accident and who bails them out?

They heroes so probably no criminal records BUT Kami did get detained y police after a drunken fist fight with Mina in a denny's parking lot (long story, but she won).

17. Who grabs the other’s hand just as they’re getting out of bed and pulls them back under for cuddles?

Sero is def the “5 more minutes” kind of guy, and his boyfriend has, yknow, actually fat on his body, so hes w a r m, and so knew apartment law is he can't leave right now its officially illegal because Sero would freeze to death and that'd be murder

18. Who gets mad about something unrelated to Person B and punches the wall, and who patches it up and kisses it better?

Neither cuz thats a unhealthy habit yo, but have they taken blow's for each as pro heroes? Yes they have! Sero is probably more likely to take a hit, and shrug off any injury though.

19. Who has the plain black phone case and who ordered one with cat ears off ebay?

Kaminari thought the sleek black would be cool and edgy, but hes also clumsy, and has almost dropped it a LOT. So Sero buys it for him and Kami uses it just to spite him.

20. Who likes to drive with the music blaring and who is too shy to sing along?

They both blast their music, and when alone will sing along with each other (power ballad duets?) but with others Sero will usually only hum along as he's not the most confident in his voice.  

21. Who’s the fantastic kisser and who has the beautiful eyes?

Sero is probably the better kisser, but they both think the other person has the prettier eyes. And yes, they have fought about it.

22. Who has the sunshine smile and who has the seductive gaze?

Sero has that smil, you know the one okay. And Kaminari “sex eyes” Denki doesn't have the most perfect teeth, but he has a whole lot of libido to make up for it lol.

23. Who gets offended by the intensity of the other’s crush on a celebrity?

Sero logically shouldn't be jealous of Briteny Spears but like.. how can he compete with that? It's Briteny Spears, she is far superior than him, he wouldn't stand a chance! So yeah he's a little bitter about it, and kinda wishes his boyfriend would pick a less pretty celebrity to crush on.

24. Who is embarrassed that they have to wear glasses sometimes and who wants them to wear them in bed?

Kaminari is that kind of guy who's mark's go up like, 20% after he gets glasses because “Wait, the write the notes on the board too?” or some shit. But glasses are kinda lame in his books, so he wears contacts, and tells literally no one about it at first. Sero likes them though! He thinks they’re cute.

25. Who cheats on the other then immediately begs for their forgiveness?

Sero: I dont want to hear it

Kami: BABE IT WAS JUST ONE NIGHT! I PROMISE!

Sero: Go cry to Briteny, cuz i honestly dont care

Kami: It was one concert! How could I pass up Britney Spears LIVE in concert?

26. Who is the jealous one and asks why the other was being so flirty all night, and who is oblivious to their own charms?

Sero is just nice okay? How was he supposed to know that girl at the side bar was flirting with him, he just thought SHE was being nice? He legitimately doesn't notice anything is wrong until he has a possessive hand around his waist and a lapful of his boyfriend to help him clue in.

27. Who orders a milkshake with their food and who orders a soda?

Tbh they broke, so they go splits and get a rootbeer float, because compromise

28. Who runs their battery down to 1% and who feels the need to charge theirs at 80%?

Kaminari is a walking power outlet so he is fearless when it comes to phone battery like “yeah I can make a phone call with 3% it's fine” and Sero over-charges his phone so know the battery drains super fast now. 

29. Who has the excellent singing voice and is always singing around the house (and for Person B), but has no interest in going professional?

Kaminari actually has an amazing singing voice, probably because he has been singing for as long as he can remember. The pro hero life has always been the life for him though, so he'll stick to small 1 person concerts for his boyfriend while making eggs.

30. Who would rather be barefoot if the setting is appropriate, and who has the huge and spectacular shoe collection (possibly also socks)?

Kaminari may be a fashionably challenged preteen but he glows up okay? So he has WAY to many shoes than he needs, and Sero does not care for it. Sero has like, 5 pairs of shoes tops, and ofc he doesn't wear shoes in the apartment because he's not an animal.

31. Who takes their liquor on the rocks and who likes it neat?

I feel like after the 'fighting mina in a denny's parking lot' thing Kaminari isn't much one for hard liquors anymore anyways. So Sero is way more the kind of high class scotch guy.

[okimargarvez]

GUILT

Original title: Senso di colpa.

Prompt: post 14x06.

Warning: character’ death.

Genre: angst, drama, romantic, friendship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez.

Pairing: Garvez, Penelope x Phil.

Note: oneshot 38 in Garvez collection.

Legend: ⚰.

Song mentioned: Le cose che non dici, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

This story is dedicated to @thinitta because we are in the same pain and ansiety while we’re watching CM each on the other side of the planet XD

GUILTY

Luke enters the room and for the first time he realizes he doesn't feel like smiling. All those images of puppies and animals, those weird puppets can't do anything against his pain. She is turned back; surely, she must have realized that someone has  entered, but she doesn't turn around  to see who. He stays for a moment motionless to look at her and then he reaches for the empty chair next to her.

-Hey.- she says, turning slightly around to give him a brief glance, her fingers still typing on the keyboard. She would like to ask him how he is, but it would be useless, because

she already knows. And she is in the same situation too.

So, he finds a single loophole. -How... how is Lou?- Penelope wears a dress invarious shades of gray, not too long and not too short. A tight and sad smile is painted on

the woman's face before she answers.

-He misses him.- silence. For a few minutes the regular ticking of Penelope's skilled fingers on the keyboard is the only sound filling the room; it almost made him sleepy, or maybe it depends on the fact that he has barely slept in a week. I would just like more silence in what I do but it's impossible, it's too dark, I sleep and then, nothing. Not even Roxy was able to cheer him up. The bed was still too empty, the apartment no longer seemed the same since Lisa left. He would have liked to hate her for leaving him when he has needed her most, but he couldn't blame her. This damn job had taken a good part of his life, he was too difficult to be around. She deserved better. She deserves to not being anxious every time he leaves home; to not be afraid to see his corpse one day in the morgue of the hospital where she works. -Luke?- the voice of the colleague brings him back to earth. He manages to capture all the worry on her face, but denies it, because it's so much simpler.

-There is a new case?- focus on work, again. It is the only solution to not going crazy. She

shakes her head and her blonde hair dance. For a moment he has a vision: a child with a darker skintone than his and those same light hair of her; but it is only for a fleeting moment. He shudders, feeling cold inside, although she keeps her “batcave” constantly

warmed up, and he knows it, because they joked about it more than once.

-No, nothing, for now.- and then she is silent. It is clear that there's something, maybe something more important, that she doesn't want to tell him. Penelope feels his eyes on her. She swallows. It is the second time in her life that she doesn't know what to say to get

out of this embarrassment. Then she makes the mistake of letting her eyes meeting Luke's. -You... you don't need to do anything, ok? - she stretches her hand to touch Luke's one, but she changes her mind at the last second. She feels the same fear as when the elevator doors had opened, and he'd appeared with Lou on a leash; she had wanted to hug him so bad and tell him that she was there for him, but she had been too afraid of being rejected in that moment. -You don't have to stay here with me. I can do everything, so you... can... you can stay with Lisa. I wont tell anybody.- and she strives hard to smile, but behind her glasses there is a veil of tears in her eyes. Luke stares at her for a moment, unable to say anything.

She. Penelope Garcia.

You are no match for Penelope Garcia.

She. The ray of sunshine of the BAU, the glue of the team.

She, so funny and weird. She, so sweet and sensitive. She, so selfless and generous.

He has no more tears to shed. He cried them all, hugging Lisa.

He feels the need to laugh hysterically now. She, Penelope, who still doesn't know that he's single again, alone like he's always been. But this is not true either, and he knows it. But for a few moments he wants to bask in self-pity.

She'll never lie to him if their roles would have been reversed. Not even if she had been in love with him. She always puts the wellbeing and happiness of others before her own. Why he could not do the same? His best friend and... he could now consider her as another best friend, after all that they had gone through. Two of the people he loved the most, together. Phil, who has never been a playboy, deserved to feel happy. And with Penelope he would certainly have been happy. Who wouldn't have been ecstatic with her?

Silence still fills the room. She even stopped typing and now is staring at him. The expression on her face is unreadable.

Why he lied to both of them? Still, he knew right away that there was something between

the two. Shortly after Lisa and he had made their story official, Garcia (and it is necessary

to think about her by her last name) had insisted on paying them a dinner, as an apology for having inadvertently interrupted their first date, and as a way for snooping and getting to know more about Lisa. Inviting Phil had been obvious, automatic. But why, why the vision of his friends laughing and joking had been so hard for him? She, who flirted in her usual way with Phil? Those smiles on their faces.

It wasn't about the fucking excuse he had given himself when his best friend was still alive.

It wasn't a behavior of a concerned "big brother". Also because he wouldn't had any need to worry. The answer was there, clear, written in large letters in front of his eyes. It had been there more than three years ago, when Morgan had put his hand on Penelope's shoulder, and earlier, when she had flirted with Stephen on the phone.

Jealousy.

Pure, simple, wrong jealousy. He didn't want her to be with Phil. With nobody, actually. And it was a selfish, macho, horrible thought, something that he would never have thought of being. He had never been that kind of man before. And nothing could justify him. In fact, he didn't want anyone to pat him on the shoulder, taking away any guilt from him. No, instead he wanted insults, shouts, hearing what he thought is his truth. I tell myself "do it sooner" but the remorse is glowing, here...

It's his fault, if Phil is dead. If only he had allowed them to know each other, maybe they would have been together, at that moment, maybe Phil would have stayed with her, so...

So, both could have been dead by now. BAM. Again, a flash, a horrible vision. That beautiful blonde woman lying horizontally, her hands clasped on her chest, eyes closed, forever. Flowers, various types of flowers, everywhere around her. He didn't believe it was possible, and yet, Luke feels a twinge in his already too suffering heart. A moan of pain escapes from him, but maybe she doesn't notice. Maybe.

Or... or they could both be alive. And happy.

What kind of love was his, if he didn't want to see them happy? Sick, wrong. Better be in denial. Yes, denying is definitely the best solution. Deny, again, as he had done from the beginning.... I go against the wind or I resist, I don't know...

-Alvez.- someone calls him. He painfully comes back in the real world. How long has he been absent? It's Penelope. There is no one else in the room. She knows that the only way to save him is giving him a shock. -Don't do that again, please.- and she is not crying, but the pain and terror he reads in her eyes are enough to make him nod, though he doesn't know whether he will be able to keep his promise or simply... he's lying to her. Again. For the third time. Like Peter with Jesus. Without any rooster crowing.

You think about it and you don't admit it, but it comes and runs strong, here, my brain spinning out, it's sick, who knows... and you try with the Gospel to dry your faults that not even the handkerchief that you have always used will absorb...

Then, suddenly, without any stimulation from the outside world, it is like if someone pressed a button in his brain, and he can no longer keep his thoughts inside. -It was my fault, Garcia.- she doesn't seem surprised at all. -I lied to you- still no reaction. -I lied to both of you.- and to himself, too, and to Lisa. -After that date, the double date... Phil kept asking me about you. All the time. He liked you, fuck, he liked you a lot.- Penelope doesn't look angry, nor even in shock. There is something strange, unconsciously noticing it. -And you liked him too. I didn't tell him. He died without knowing it, he died because I'm a fucking liar.- he can no longer cry but his eyes turns red and his vision is blurry. It seems like a century passed before she answers to him.

She puts her hand on his, light, and nods. -I know.- so, everything doesn't matter anymore,

everything swirls around him, around two simple words.

I lose myself wrecked in the things you don't say, the ones that, at night, you are ashamed of it, hidden, but you do it, and you talk to friends, but you deny everything, sometimes, you wear scars, but nobody will see them...

-You know?- Penelope nods, closes her eyes and when she lifts her eyelids there is still no

trace of anger or desire to blame him. But she takes her hand off from his and brings it on

the other, on her leg.

-Yeah, Luke, you are not the only one who lied.- there are no words capable of describing the expression of the man when she begins her confession. -We did it, me, and him too.- she says while standing up and reaches a drawer of her desk, putting out of it what seems like a coin or a medal. Without needing her to ask him to do it, he opens his hand, palm up, and lets her giving the object to him. He recognizes it instantly. He can't speak anymore, but she'd never needed for him to speak to hear him, with or without five hundred and sixty hours of profiling course. -Shortly after that double date. He called me, told me that he wasn't used to have a dog, and that he needed help, knowing that I had taken care of Roxy every now and then. And that's how it began.- she sits down again, but away from him. -It was not your fault, Luke. He was at home and I was at work. It was not your fault, more than it wasn't mine, or it's the team's. I should have realized sooner that you, Lisa and him would have been the targets.- and here, she found the only way to stop taking all the blame at any costs.

-No, you couldn't know...- and she stares at him, as if to return to Luke his own words. -So... why didn't tell me anything? Why Phil has keeping asking me about you, if you two were already dating?- at his question she smiles, the first sincere smile of today.

-Because... because he knew you wouldn't agree or that you wouldn't like the idea of us

together. I don't know how he knew that, but he didn't want to tell you anything, and he asked me to do the same. And you'll admit that it was a huge thing, for me, keeping my mouth shut all this time.- she even tries to joke. -He wanted to wait until you were ready. We'd have told Lisa first, and she would have helped us surely.- Luke notices that she can't say the name of his best friend. He doesn't ask if she loved him, if they were happy, even if a morbid curiosity pinches him and pushes him to ask those questions aloud.

Perhaps because both answers are already there, in the way that Penelope talks about it,

in the sad sweetness that softens her face.

Phil knew. He had never told him about what he was feeling for his colleague, but he knew the same. He is, was, and will always be, his best friend, his brother. He had known, even before Luke himself, that he was in love with Penelope Garcia. And despite that, he'd pushed him into Lisa's arms. Why? A question that will never find an answer.

And why isn't Penelope asking him the reason why Phil thought he wouldn't be happy about them? Can she be naive up to this point? She knows his feelings too?

-Penelope...- she tells him to shut up with her eyes.

-You don't need to say anything. I know you wanted the best for us. It would have been a

strange situation, wouldn't it? Hearing me talking with JJ about my handsome boyfriend who is at the same time your best friend...- she smiles with tears in her eyes.

No, Penelope knows nothing. Yes, she is the queen of ice, of nice, of moderation... and ingenuity. -I'm sure we'd have told you soon, and we would have had fun, all six of us, Lisa and you, me and him, Roxy and Lou...- is the last straw; enough is enough.

And you feel a wave of affection, shutting it straightaway...

-No, I don't... I don't think it would have ever happened.- Penelope stares at him, this time surprised and confused. There are two things that press in his head to go out, one wrong and one right, one that he would like to say and one that he would bury in the depths of his soul. -Lisa left me.- her beautiful mouth, red, juicy, opens wide. -She couldn't... what happened was too much for her.- she sighs.

-I understand. I'm sorry, infinitely, because you two were good together, you were just so beautiful to watch.- and Luke knows she's not lying, unlike him, she really thinks this, because she's Penelope Garcia, the woman with the biggest heart that exists in the whole universe. -I'm sorry- she says again -but I understand that. I feel the same thing every time there is a damn case and you all get on the jet and I stay here, and I can only try to break the typing speed record to find the right information, so that you can catch the villain before he can kill others people, or some of you can get hurt... and I feel powerless, and I can only wait for someone to tell me that you're all safe, and you know what? I'm even happy to have been the one kidnapped by the cult, me rather than one of you, because for once I didn't have to wait, but I could act and...- and finally it happens.

There is only one way to silence her random digression: he presses her head against his chest, while his hands caress her back. -You are not powerless, nor useless, never, Penelope.- and the same is true for him. Although it is more difficult to accept. Because it's much easier to keep feeling guilty than to move on. Just as it was easier to date Lisa than to even attempt to do something with his feelings for Penelope. -The team would be

nothing without you.- he whispers, and she whispers back -Not even without you, Luke.- that hug, that had been postponed till now. And now it seems that neither of them is able to break away from the other. But she turns her head so she can breathe. -Phil- she finally says the name -would have asked you to be his best man, you know?- and immediately she feels guilty. This is one of her crap, that she said without even knowing the reason. -Sorry, I didn't want to...- his right hand moves from her back to her hair, the fingers sinking into the golden mass.

-You're not the one who should apologize. I should have been the happiest person in the

world, being the best man at the marriage of two of my best friends.- and the other half

of the sentence remains between the lines, but she understands anyway.

And finally, she asks him. -Why you wouldn't have been happy?- and finally she seems to

understand that this has nothing to do with the damn story of the big brother. That role belongs to Morgan. Derek would have come on purpose from Chicago to tell Luke to treat his baby girl right, otherwise... But then the time had passed, and nothing had happened, and then Lisa had arrived and he was happy, and then Phil had asked her out, he had done what his best friend had never been able to do, and it hadn't been for spite or a replacement, no, Phil had made her laugh, her heart jumped when they kissed. Like a punch to the gut, she sees their first kiss again. He was still in the wheelchair and she had

stumbled, ending up on his legs; she had immediately apologized, but he had stroked her shoulder, and then he had gently pushed her head against his own to make their lips met and finally silenced her. And again, she feels the urge to say something that is better if never gets out. I was starting to really love him.

-Because, because I'm an asshole, Garcia.- he forces himself to let her go, immediately feeling cold, ice around his heart. -Because I was jealous, selfish, and you should hate me and telling me to go fuck myself, because I deserve it. And because I need it.- she steps back, Luke steps one in her direction and grabs both her hands in a strong hold. -Please, Penelope, do it, tell me that you hate me, that you will never forgive me, that I didn't have the right to get in the way, say something!- he shakes her and she lets him. The man feels tears stinging in the corners of his eyes, but he can't cry, not again.

And you are looking for a virtual Purgatory because you are not being able to love, rewind your god of love, so you continue to pray in the narrowest and tighter darkness of what you've never said...

-No... I can't. I will not give you what you want. I can't do it.- Luke lets her go immediately and falls to his knees, grabbing his head in his own hands. -But there's something I'd like to know. What does it mean you were jealous? Of him or me?- nothing,

she is stills the usual sweet naive Garcia. His reply arrived after what feels lile centuries. He must free himself from this burden.

-Of him, of you, of both. I was, I still am jealous of you. It's not just about Phil. It's not because he was... he is my best friend. It was because he was interested in you and I didn't want him to. I know it's wrong but...- she stops his sentence with a sharp hand gesture. This time she doesn't look at all understanding. Her gaze is stern, although she seems to be trying hard to understand. She still wants to believe for a while that there is a logical reason that will allow her not to hate him. Even though she wouldn't be able to do it anyway. She wants to believe that the world is a better place to live in.

-You don't want me to be happy, Luke? Why?- only two tears, perfectly synchronized, on

the sides of her cheeks, run along the woman's face until they stop for a few moments on

the chin and then fall into the void. He hurt her. He has committed the greatest sin he could do and he will never forgiven himself.

-No, yes, it's not that simple. I want you to be happy... I feel bad when I see you sad, from

the first time it happened, but... but I don't want you to be with someone else. And I know it's wrong, selfish, that I was with Lisa and I had no right to... that I wouldn't have it even if I was single... and even if we were together and...- he can't look her in the eye. He doesn't want to find out what she thinks of him now. He doesn't want to see that.

Delusion.

-I don't understand.- she just says, and she sounds so dull that it's much worse, worse than if she had shouted at him or had slapped him. And the shadows fall and you can discover every flaw that jealously in your limbo you will hide, you will conceal, you will cover, you will spit, you will touch, you will warm, you will pan, you will forget, you will slip, you will slide, you will flapping or not, you will watch, you will know, you will hide, I don't know...

-I want... I wish you were happy, but... but with me.- and after having said it, everything

seems simpler, in the right perspective.

-But you would never have left Lisa for me, right?- her voice is tough, as he had never heard it before. And he trembles.

-I... she is... a fantastic woman, beautiful, smart, nice. You said it too. We were fine together. But she is not... she is not you. I think that, even if this is even more selfish... yes, I would have left her, if I had known to have a chance with you.- she moves one step backwards and ends up against the desk, the computer screen turned off, neglected, abandoned. Her left hand bumps several puppets and one of them falls on the ground.

In the shape of a cat, black and white. They both follow with their eyes the fall and then

they can't help but staring at each other in that way, in their own way, in the way they have looked at each other since the first time they met, intense enough to make both of their hearts beating with hope, ambiguous enough to let them behave like cowards.

-You, stupid Newbie!- she points an accusatory finger against him. -You would have had

a chance, if only you tried!- and finally, she's shouting, as he had asked her before. -I will

not stay here forever waiting for you, if that's what you think. I'm not a souvenir that you can put on a shelf and leave it to gather dust, until you find it convenient. Is it clear to you?- just a few tears frame her face. -Now, please, go out. I told you, I can handle it alone. And I need time to process all this. It's too much. Too much.- and she turns her back to him. Luke feels his legs so heavy, his head spinning like a pinwheel, and yet, feeling even more of an asshole, he wants to laugh, to shout out for the world to see that she loves him too.

But he doesn't reach for her, he doesn't hold her close, he doesn't kiss her, although he would like. Instead, he forces his body to move, to go out, to close the door. To do the right thing. Because for once leaving doesn't mean being a coward, but means not being selfish, putting first what the woman he loves needs more, rather than his own desires.

 Although it may sound absurd, sometimes "disappear" is the most sublime act of love...

(Gaetano Cuffari)

[lyssala]

You’re Idiots, the Both of You

Parings: Terra/Aqua, Kingdom Hearts

Setting: Right before Aqua leaves for college; Terra & Aqua are 19 &18

Rating: T (Slight Language)

Notes: I felt this one a lot cause while I ended up not going away for college  I almost moved to a big city from a small town all alone and I was terrified. I based a lot of this on those feelings I had as sometimes it really is hard to leave all you’ve ever known even if it’s to live your dream. Also those two are so stubborn bickering is probably more common place than not and also we all know neither are great at communication when emotions run high haha I try not to only show the good times, but the rougher times too, the mistakes, and the anger because that’s just as real in anyone’s lives.

AO3

12. Fight

“I’m fine. I’m great. It’s a big fat happy sunshine day for me.”

-Luke

Terra didn’t think it would be that bad. He thought if he could at least be there with her it wouldn’t be as bad as he imagined it would be. Yet as he sat on her bedroom floor, surrounded by bags and boxes while she was pulling things from her closet the reality of the situation was hitting him harder than it had before.

In a week Aqua would be gone.

Not permanently but she’d be at school more often than she’d be home and while he knew she’d visit and he’d visit it wouldn’t ever be the same again. Terra couldn’t get this sinking feeling out of the pit of his stomach that he was losing her.  He was finding that was a hard pill to swallow.

“Oh God,” Aqua said as she pulled herself out of her closet. “How long has it been since I cleaned this out.” She made a face holding up a pair of glittery Mary Janes that were way too small for her now.

“You used to love those things,” he snorted, tossing the few papers in his hand in the nearby garbage bag. “You’d even wear them in the rain and get your feet soaked.”

Aqua rolled her eyes. “It’s a miracle there’s any glitter left on them.” She tossed them in the garbage bag near before diving back in the closet.

Terra felt a sharp jab in his chest even though he used to hate those shoes because they always hurt her feet and cause her to get sick when the weather was bad even if she loved them. He wasn’t attached to them in the least and yet, it was like throwing his memories away in a black trash bag. It wasn’t really possible since he could always have memories without the physical item but there was just something about sitting here and deciding what was going with her, what was staying, and what was getting tossed that made Terra just feel…bad.

He tried not to show it as she was all smiles and excited energy as she got ready to start her new life. He really didn’t want to bring down her mood since he was essentially sulking but it was just so hard, especially since she didn’t seem nearly as upset as he was. She was getting a chance to leave, getting a chance to do the things she loved with people who loved doing them, she’d have more friends who had interests like hers and where did that leave him? Here alone.

“Terra?”

He looked up at her and realized she had been trying to get his attention as she held a shirt up to herself. It was way too big but very familiar. “Is that mine?”

She nodded with a small laugh. “I think I stole it from you a while ago.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Aqua tossed the shirt in a pile off to the side of her bed, the rest of Terra’s things they had found in here. He honestly didn’t want any of it back, he wanted her to keep it all maybe then he wouldn’t feel so awful, like she’d take at least some part of him with her.

With a sigh, he leaned over to her night stand to do what he was actually here to help with. The bottom drawer was already opened from where he grabbed his last handful of papers, all old school assignments and notes really. He was about to grab another to flip through but something else caught his eye instead. Off to the corner of the drawer was a dried flower, he carefully picked it up though he already knew it as the flower he gave her to wear on her wrist at her prom a few months back.

“Still here, huh,” he said, holding it up a little.

“Oh, yeah,” she laughed lightly, sticking her head out of the closet. “It looked so pretty, I wanted to keep it.”

Terra never lied to her, he really did hate proms and other school functions that only existed to get classmates to have some sort of school spirit and be forced in confined spaces together but there was no way he would’ve ever said no when she asked if he’d go with her. It was easy to put his feelings away for her and make sure she had the night she wanted. Seeing that she still had the flower made him feel nice, like maybe he did just that. “It might dissolve sooner rather than later,” he said as he placed it delicately in his palm.

“Ah, yeah.” Aqua paused, looking back into her closet.

His stomach lurched. Or maybe not. He let the flower roll off his hand into the garbage bag, his throat feeling choked as he did. This was stupid. They were just things. Yet they were things that symbolized how much things were changing and how much he absolutely hated it.

Terra reached back into the drawer, trying to file through what she’d probably want to keep and what he could toss. If he just focused on the task maybe all these stupid feelings would go away. Aqua wasn’t wrong, she wasn’t doing anything that wasn’t normal. It was him. He was too attached when clearly she didn’t feel the same way so he needed to get let go too.  

The thought alone seemed impossible not when every part of him wanted to just desperately hang on.

“Oh!” Aqua exclaimed, pulling herself out of the closet again. “Look, Terra!” She was holding up a ratty old bunny stuffed animal in her hands that looked like it had seen way better days, as it had since it was his from when he was a baby.

“Oh, yeah, something else you stole from me.”

“I absolutely did not,” she said, carefully wrapping her arms around the stuffed animal so its arms flopped over hers, just how she used to carry it. “You gave it to me.”

That was the truth. Aqua used to be scared of the dark, and he gave it to her one night at his house to help her sleep better; it worked so he just let her keep it. He honestly didn’t even know she still had it.

“I thought my mom got rid of it but I guess I did a good job hiding it from her.” Aqua smiled as she looked down at it. She used to take it every single place she went and always made him feel glad he could do something for her, give her some form of comfort.

“Maybe because it’s falling apart,” he said but he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching upwards to see her hold it again. Their lives were so tied up together, there’s no way just a two hour car ride could erase that right?

Aqua sighed as she pulled the bunny away from her and tossed it over to the rest of Terra’s things.

In one instant, he felt like his whole world was being shaken, like he was losing his grip on everything he ever held dear. Terra didn’t even realize he stood to his feet until Aqua was looking up at him confused.

“Terra, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t even know what to say, how to explain. It hurt to see her toss away things that meant something to him, that he thought meant something to her. “Does it really mean that little to you?”

She blinked at him, looking a little lost. “Does what? What are you talking about?”

“Anything, the things we had together, me.” He threw his hands up a little, his tone coming out much harder than he intended but he couldn’t stop. He knew he expressed his hurt in anger and he knew it was wrong of him to take it out on her but right now it was all he could do.

Aqua pushed herself up to her feet. “Terra, seriously, what are you talking about?”

“You’re just giving up everything in here so easily.”

“I’m moving, I have to get rid of things. I can’t keep everything, you know that.” She still looked confused but her tone was firm as she was trying to calm him down.

“Oh, yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” Terra regretted his words the moment he saw the hurt flash across her face. It only lasted a seconded before her eyes narrowed.

“What the hell is your deal? You offered to help me, and now you’re just mad cause I’m not keeping every little thing? My room there isn’t very large. I physically can’t keep everything even if I want to.”

The reminder of the reality of this situation was a stab straight to his heart. This was happening. She was leaving and no matter what he did there was nothing that could ever change that. “Yeah, okay, I’m aware, but you don’t have to seem so happy to get away from here.”

She stared at him, looking almost like he had slapped her in the face. He never hated himself more when he saw the way her eyes started water. “How could you think that?”

He wanted to stop, to apologize, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming. “I dunno, Aqua, maybe because the whole day has been you just tossing away anything that had any meaning like you don’t care at all.”

Her eyes were still wet but her mouth was in a hard line; unsurprisingly, she was never one to sit down and take anyone’s shit, let alone his. He knew it and could recognize it but it was almost like he was watching himself from outside his body, unable to stop anything that was happening.

“I just…I don’t get you right now, Terra. You’re never sentimental about these sorts of things. What is your problem?”

His jaw clenched. She was right, he knew she was right but it didn’t really seem to matter all that much. “I shouldn’t have come. You obviously are all ready to leave everything here behind, so I’ll just leave you to it.”

Aqua gave an exasperated sigh. “Jesus Christ, you’re being such an ass right now I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, well, it should be easy to forget then since you’re so eager to get away. Well, I can’t, okay. I don’t get to leave. I’m stuck here without you, maybe that’s fine for you but it’s not for me. Stupid things are all that’s left when you’re gone.”

She stopped as she watched him; the anger seemed to melt away in her eyes, leaving them watery like they were before. “Terra, I’m not-”

He turned and left. Even as he was doing it, he knew it was stupid that he was the one essentially running away now but he couldn’t bring himself to face her again. Confrontation wasn’t his strong point and he already blew this whole thing out of proportion.

She didn’t call after him as he hurried down the stairs; though Mrs. Queen called his name he didn’t answer, already closing the front door probably way too loud. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and headed in the first direction he saw which was down the road. He just wanted to leave, get out of the same places, everything that held memories.

Terra absolutely knew he was being unreasonable and deep down he was happy for her to do what she wanted to do but right now all he felt was the hurt, how much his life would be lacking without waking up and knowing she was a few steps across the street. It was stupid and selfish of him but he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t stop himself.

He walked and walked under the late summer sun, the humidity making him feel sticky and gross but he didn’t stop. He kept going until the anger, the frustration, all sort of faded away leaving him with just an ache in his chest. Aqua was leaving soon, he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop it, it was something he’d just have to learn to live with but now on top of it he ruined some of the few moments they had left together. Hot tears stung his eyes more so out of frustration with himself than anything. He hated this, he hated the things he did just because he didn’t know how to express how much she really meant to him, how empty all of this would be without her. He clenched his fists against his sides, wondering if he should just go home.

“Terra?”

The sound of his name made him jump even if the voice was familiar. Terra glanced over to the yard he was standing in front of to see Master Eraqus crouched down near one of the small patches of flower gardens scattered around. There were some gardening tools around him as he was lifting his sunglasses onto his head to get a better look at Terra.

“Shit,” he murmured, reaching the back of his hand up to his face, trying to wipe his eyes.  He didn’t even know he walked that far up the street.

Eraqus stood up and started to walk back towards the house, gesturing for Terra to follow. “Well, come on now.”

Terra knew he didn’t have to, he could just turn and leave but he found he didn’t want to. He walked up the path that led to Eraqus’ porch, the door still swinging from where he had disappeared inside. Terra plopped himself down on the bench that sat under the overhang of the porch overlooking the front yard. How many times had he and Aqua sit out here together when Eraqus was babysitting them? There was nothing, nowhere in this town that didn’t remind Terra of her.  

The door opened again and Eraqus stepped back out, hanging Terra glass cool to the touch. He took a sip of the sweet lemonade while Eraqus sat down next to Terra with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Terra mumbled slightly into his drink.

“Oh, it’s nothing. You’re never a bother, my boy.” Eraqus glanced over. “Though I have a feeling I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Terra dropped his hands to his lap, taking the glass down with them. “Always know what’s up, huh.”

“Oh, no,” Eraqus chuckled. “But I know you and I know how you look when you feel guilty. So why don’t you just get it off your chest.”

“I don’t want her to leave.” What was hard to say to some people always came easy when it was Eraqus; he had a presence Terra always found comforting, soothing. Maybe he had known exactly where he was walking to.

“And whys that?”

Terra also appreciated he didn’t need to clarify who he was referring to. “Because she gets to leave and go start a new life somewhere and I’m still here day in and day out left with just a reminder everywhere I go that she’s gone and I’m here.”

“Is she gone though? I know she won’t be here every day any more, but this is still her home is it not? Her friends, her family, you are all still here.”

“Yeah but what if she meets new people she likes better and never wants to visit home? What if that becomes her home and not here anymore?”

“Terra,” Eraqus chuckled. “You’re jealous of people who might not even exist.”

That was…a fair point. “She was so happy packing today, and I mean, I get it, I’m sure it’s exciting and don’t get me wrong I really am happy for her but just seeing her toss away things that held memories like she didn’t even care, like it didn’t matter.” He looked down at his hands. “Like how I felt didn’t matter.”

Eraqus held up his hand slightly. “Okay, well, two things. The first being did you tell her how all this was making you feel?”

Terra swallowed a small lump in his throat. “Well…not really.”

Eraqus gave a knowing look but didn’t comment. “Second being does any of that sound like Aqua? Think about those things that you just said. Does any of that sound like anything she’d do? Your best friend who still wears that tattered friendship bracelet because you still have the one she made you. Aqua, who almost always considers your feelings before she does anything, does that really sound like her?”

“Um, well, no.”

“Could it be maybe she already knew you have a hard time with change and that you’d probably be hurting and was trying to make everything seem like it was okay to help you feel better.”

That…yeah, that sounded like Aqua. Terra stared down at the floor, guilt turning his stomach.

“You know, I’m fairly certain she’s probably feeling the same way you are about all of this.”

“Why?” Terra glanced up. “She gets to start a new life and do amazing things. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Unlike you, my boy, Aqua never had much desire to leave here. Sure, she is because it’s a wonderful opportunity for her and she knows that but I very much believe she doesn’t want to start a new life despite how many times you keep saying it.” Eraqus paused for a second. “And while you have to sit here and be reminded of her around every corner, she’s going somewhere brand new and she knows no one and will be reminded around every corner that you’re not there. I can imagine that would be very scary.”

“She’s not scared of anything.”

“Oh, I know for a fact everyone is scared of something, Terra. She is, just like you are and I’m willing to bet those two fears are generally the same thing.”

Terra almost let the glass slip out of his hands but Eraqus reached over to take it first.

“I bet she could really use her friend right about now.”

“Yeah,” Terra nodded. That sounded like something he needed to do, even if at least to apologize for the way he acted. He pushed himself to his feet. “Thanks, Master.”

Eraqus waved Terra off. “Do you need a ride back home?”

“No, I got it.” He jumped the last few steps on the porch before turning to wave back to Eraqus before heading back the way he came.

Granted, it felt like it took him way less to walk all the way up the street when frustration was his highest emotion. It felt like a million years when he was heavy with guilt and worry that she’d still be angry with him; so much so that he paused when he saw her house in front of him. He swallowed and walked back up to the door.

As carefully he could, he poked his head in the door. It wasn’t like he left quietly; Mr. and Mrs. Queen both probably heard everything and it wouldn’t have surprised him if they were waiting for him knowing Terra always came back with his tail between his legs.

They weren’t in the kitchen or the living room though. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him before turning up the staircase past the kitchen. Aqua’s room was the first one on the right, the door still wide open.

He hesitated but he knew if he walked away now he’d only be festering in guilt. With his heart feeling like it was caught in his throat he stepped in her room. Aqua was still there though she was sitting on the edge of her bed, the rest of the room the same state he had left, and the stuffed animal hanging loosely in her hands. Her hair was falling into her face making it hard to see if she even knew he was there but he supposed it didn’t really matter.

Terra walked in till he was crouched down in front of her. He honestly wasn’t sure what he was going to say but when she looked up her usually bright blue eyes were red and a little puffy. Nothing else but the truth seemed to matter.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he said. It was the truth, the one he was afraid of because it was about to become his reality. “I don’t know how to wake up knowing you’re not next door, or how to go to work and know you won’t be there for lunch or dinner or anything.”

“I’m scared too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper like she shouldn’t even be admitting it. “I don’t think I want to go.”

Terra’s throat went dry. “Because of what I said?”

Aqua shook her head, reaching the back of her hand up to wipe away a stray tear. “No, I was already feeling that way. It was why I was trying to act so positive about packing. I don’t want to get rid of any of these things.” She dropped her hand back down, holding on to the old stuffed animal again. “I want to stay here with my parents, with you, with the people and places I know. I don’t…”

Her breath hitched and he could see the way her eyes started to tear up again. “I don’t want to go to some strange place with strangers and live by myself without my mom to cook for me or without Ven to ask me to watch a movie with him and then you won’t…” She closed her eyes and the tears rolled down her cheeks. “You won’t be there at the end of the school day anymore.”

Terra knew Aqua better than anyone and he felt like even more of an absolute asshole for only focusing on how he was feeling and not realizing her own worries right away. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her so she fell slightly off the bed into him. She put her arms tightly around him, burying her face into his neck. “I want you to listen to me okay?”

She nodded though he knew she was making an effort not to cry more.

“You’re without a doubt the strongest person I know. If there’s anyone who can leave everything she’s ever known and be just fine, it’s you. You’re going to do way bigger things than this town could ever dream of because I know you can do it.” He nudged his head against hers. His chest still ached at the thought of her leaving but it honestly wasn’t about him, it never really should’ve been. “It’s okay to be afraid, but I know you’re gonna be just fine. I know you, Aqua.”

“I took the flower out of the garbage. I never wanted to get rid of it.” She let go of him, leaning back to her bed a little; Terra realized she still had the bunny in a tight grip in one of her hands, just like she used to.

“I’m sorry, you what?”

Aqua nodded over towards the nightstand where the flower he gave her was sitting. “I wanted everyone to think leaving didn’t bother me, everyone was so proud I got into this school I didn’t want to let them down by saying how I really felt. I knew it would hurt you to see me sad, that I just wanted you to be okay. I thought if you could see me let go of things you’d know I was okay, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” He reached his hand up to her chin, forcing her to look back down at him. “I’m always proud of you. God, I’m gonna miss you like crazy, but I couldn’t be prouder of you. Distance can do its worst, but it’s not something we can’t handle.”

She rolled her eyes but there was a small smile pulling at her lips. Aqua lifted her hand, holding her pinky out to him; her silent way of asking, “promise?”

He hooked his finger with her.

Aqua threw her arms around him again, hugging herself closer.

“I’m sorry, for the things I said earlier.” He placed his hands on her back. “I should’ve known you were upset.”

She shook her head, telling him it was okay. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

He knew having to say goodbye to her next week was going to be one of the hardest things he did but it wasn’t forever, it wasn’t even for most the year. They had phones, he had a car, it wasn’t the end of anything really, just a little different than usual. Somehow they’d always be together, he knew it deep down. As long as he had that, it would be okay.

[seljepw]

Over the Hills and Far Away- Episode 8

A/N: I'm so sorry I'm late with this installment, guys.  It's almost twice as long as the others, and I had some issues getting the smut just right... Hopefully it will be worth the wait!!

The Road so Far: The reader- who Bobby adopted at 6 years old- is half Faerie.  She was bred for the sole purpose of being the traditional Tithe to Hell- the deal that lets faeries keep their immortality.  Now, her destiny has caught up with her, and she, Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Sarah (Remember her?  From season one?) are trapped in a pocket dimension of Faerie land, and Hell is on it's way when the sun sets.  Also, because metaphysical loopholes, Dean is bound to join Y/N in Hell, and everyone else is stuck in Faerie forevermore.

Word Count: 2,400ish 

Warnings: THERE IS SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER.  Be prepared for strong language, unprotected sex (you know this is pretend, right?), and lots and lots of angst.  (You guys might be going to Hell, ok?  There's some feelings about that...)

Then:

“Ok,” she said, looking around the shack, “we need something to use as paint.  Devil’s trap on the floor, sigils on the windows.  We are going dark until this shit blows over.”

“Blows over?” Sam looked at her, incredulous.  “Sarah, we’re stuck in an alternate dimension, waiting for the freaking King of Hell to come and drag away our sister-in-law!  It’s not gonna just blow over!”

“Maybe not,” said Bobby, “but that don’t mean we just sit here twirlin’ on our thumbs.”  He had cut his own arm, and was already using his blood to draw a warding sigil on the window over the sink.

Now: 

By the time the sun had risen, you were sitting at the table with Sam and Sarah.  Bobby was passed out on the narrow bed, and Dean was snoring lightly from the one cushioned chair in the shack.  His face looked sallow next to the tattered orange corduroy of the chair’s upholstery.  He had long ago learned the soldier’s trick of sleeping when you can, where you can.  Unfortunately, that skill eluded you at the moment.  So, you let out a deep sigh and reviewed your fortifications once more.

Standard devil’s trap in both doorways.  Warding sigils- in a combination of blood, paint, duct tape, and deep gashes in the wood- plastered across any vertical surface.  Sam’s Volvo was now parked like a barricade in front of the shack, and the other two cars were playing sentry in the flower-packed field behind your tiny fortress.  You each had at least two weapons on hand (the silver knife at your back had been joined by Bobby’s revolver, stashed in your boot).  The rest of your small arsenal was arranged on the table, gleaming in the gathering dawn.  

It was damn handy to have such a paranoid bastard for an adopted father.  Even in a made-up universe, Bobby wouldn’t be Bobby without a rainy-day stash of deadlies.  Along with your new boot accessory, he had produced not just the Colt, but the demon knife and a sawed-off shotgun from his trunk.  The handful of knives from the earlier houses rounded out the collection.  Still, it was a depressingly small armory.  And you had no way of knowing what you would have to face.  Would Crowley come alone, or with an army?  Would he be open to negotiating, or would he just sic a pack of hellhounds on you and call it a day?  The thoughts chased each other around in your mind, as they had done for the past several hours.  You were getting dizzy and exhausted.  

Sam and Sarah had been pouring over the little blue Faerie book, taking notes and discussing possible modes of defence for the past three hours.  The first time Sam looked up was when you growled impatiently and shoved yourself out of your chair.  

“Y/N.  Where do you think you’re going?” he hissed at you.  

Dean gasped and came fully awake at the sound.  Soldier sleep only lasts as long as it can, then it’s back to consciousness all at once.  His fist was closing around the machete in his lap before he had even exhaled. “Whashapenin’?” he huffed.  “Crowley?”

“No.  Sorry I woke you.  I just can’t stand being cooped up here anymore,” you said as you paced around the tiny room.  Your hands raked through your hair and your shoulders wouldn’t stay still.

Bobby sat up and gave you his ‘worried daddy’ look.  It was half reservation, half resignation.  He knew you never did well being cloistered for long.  You needed open sky and fresh air.  So, being the good dad he was, he tilted his head to the back door.  

“Go on, princess.  But don’t you dare leave that field, and if anything happens, you holler at the top of your lungs, and we’ll come runnin’.”

Dean moved across the tiny room, assuming that he would be joining you on your walkabout, but you placed your hand firmly on his chest.

“No, Love.  I just need to be by myself for a bit.  Give me a few minutes, ok?”

In the dawn light, his eyes looked like peridot.  It’s funny the things you notice when you’re getting ready to die, you thought.  Those gold-green eyes searched yours for a long moment.  He must have found what he was looking for, because he simply cupped your face in his hands, pressed a kiss between your brows and said, “Ok, Hermione.  You do what you gotta.  I’ll come out to check on you in a few.”

You walked out of the back door, leaving the silence of concerned people behind you.  Bobby didn’t even insist that you take a coat.  

You walked a slow circuit around the edges of the field, collecting a few flowers and brushing away the curious bees.  The sun was beating down, but the breeze that played across your bare arms and shoulders kept it from being unbearably hot.  You let your head fall back, and lifted your face to the sunshine.  It was amazing, this cage the Fae had built for you.  So detailed, so intricate.  And they saw it as a privilege- an immensely precious gift that they had given to a totally unworthy thing.  You found it insulting.  If there was one thing you had learned in your life as a hunter, it was the value of truth.  This place was one huge, condescending lie.  

As you reached the shack again, you smiled despite yourself.  Dean was lounging on the Impala’s hood, his fingers laced across his chest and his head resting back on the windshield, watching your slow progress.  Neither of you spoke as you climbed up and settled your body next to his, as you had been doing for years.  You both stared up at the fake clouds drifting across the fake sky.

He had popped one of his well-worn cassettes into Baby’s stereo, and Bad Company crooned out of the open windows, wafting on the breeze.

“Life is like a carousel... you aim for heaven, and you wind up in hell… To all the world you're livin like a king... but you're just a puppet on a broken string…”

“Tell me about it,” you scoffed at the song.

Dean chuckled and wrapped his arm around you, settling your head into its accustomed place on his shoulder.  You watched the fake flowers shivering in the fake sunshine and revelled for a moment in the honest solidness of his cheekbone against your hair.

“Look, babe, if anyone knows what it’s like to be the freakin’ ‘Chosen One’- especially when you don’t have any choice in the matter- it’s Sammy and me.  And we’ve always managed to shake it.  This is no different.  I told you last night; no way in hell you’re- ya know- goin’ to Hell.”

“We,” you said dejectedly.  You’d been doing your best to keep from wallowing in your feelings.  But this was Dean.  You let the mask slip a little.  “You mean we’re going to hell.  I managed to fuck up enough to damn you, too.  And get the others stuck here.  It’s all my fault.”  A tight ball had formed in your throat, and if you let it, it would boil over into weeping.  

“Hey!” Dean levered both of you up into a seated position and turned to you, lacing his fingers through your hair.  He maneuvered your face close to his, so you had no choice but to look directly into his eyes.  “This is NOT your fault, you hear me?  I don’t wanna hear that defeatist ‘woe is me’ crap.  You didn’t do this.  You didn’t start this.  They’re trying to make you a victim, but you are way too strong for that.  Now, what do we do when some supernatural son of a bitch comes after us?”

You sighed resignedly, and blinked to keep the tears at bay.  “Kick it in the ass,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.  What do we do when something thinks it can tear us apart?”

This one came out a little more steady.  “Kick it in the ass.”

“Better, but I want it one more time.  Like you mean it.  Because we are not victims.  What do we do to every single threat that comes at us?”

You moved, then, swinging your leg over Dean’s hips and settling firmly into his lap.  You mirrored his grip on your hair with a grip on his, and around clenched teeth you snarled, “We kick it in the fucking ass!”

“That’s my girl!” Dean crowed, and caught your mouth in a blistering kiss.  

He wrapped his arms around your waist and crushed your body to his. You clawed at his back like you were trying to climb him.  With a firm grip on your ass, he hoisted your combined weight up off of Baby’s hood and into the wildflowers. You clung on and rode him down to the rich, black soil.  

You were like animals, at first.  Moaning and growling and trying to get as close as you could while still clothed.  The friction of your core against his was making you dizzy.  Your panties were soaked.  Please please please I neeeeed... was all you could think for a long time.  You writhed against each other, and you thought your pussy was going to wring itself out, you were so hot, but neither of you made a move to escalate it.  It was like you were waiting for something.

Bloodthirsty kisses and teenage rutting of denim against denim slowly melted away, and a fierce tenderness replaced it.  The scent of crushed plants engulfed you.  The tall, waving stalks of the flowers shielded you from sight.  You were in your own little world within your own little world.  

You and Dean had been hunting together-and together- for a few years.  Despite all the brave talk, all the unwillingness to accept defeat, the fact remained.  On a case, every fight could be the last fight.  And every fuck could be the last fuck.  You couldn’t take these moments for granted.  Now- with the threat of Hell bearing down on you both- this time together took on an even sharper clarity.

He loomed above you- broad shoulders blotting out your view of the sky, covering you in protective shadows, and you took a moment to trace the lines of his face; to swim in eyes made greener by the swaying foliage around you.  Just in case.  

The moment stretched.  Unexpectedly, your magic shimmered up inside you, like it was taking a deep breath.  Your mind seemed to float, as weightless as your bodies had been the other night- and you could see Dean’s love for you like a physical thing.  A second heart beating in his chest, gold and red and luminous.  You laid your hand over the spot and watched the light pulse around your fingers.  The beauty of it took your breath away.

“What?”  His voice was a low murmur, barely louder than the susurrus of flowers around you.

“You,” you whispered, blinking away a new incursion of tears, “you are so gorgeous and amazing and I love you so fucking much…”  The light in dean’s chest flared in a brilliant surge and when his lips met yours again, it was so overwhelmingly sweet that you couldn’t hold back your sobs anymore.  Salt tears mixed with the taste of Dean’s mouth, and he pressed his weight on you as though he was trying to hold your jagged pieces together.  Like he was trying to feed you with the inner light that he couldn’t see.  

After what seemed like the longest heartbeat on record, you released your magic, got control of your lungs again, and dropped your shaking fingers to his waistband.

“Dean,” you gasped around a throat sore with crying, “Please.  I need… I need…”

He understood.  Of course he did.  You both wrestled each other out of your clothes as best you could; Dean helped you yank his shirt over his head, but yours was trapped under your weight, so it stayed.  One leg of your jeans remained tangled around a booted foot.  Dean’s pants only made it halfway down his thighs, but it was enough.  

When he reached between you to slide a finger into your slick opening, you stopped him.

“I need you, Dean.  You.  Now.”  You gripped his shaft and gently guided him through your folds.  

“You got it, sweetheart,” he smiled.  Just a flash of the usual roguish Dean that disappeared when his eyes rolled up, closed, and squeezed shut, as he easily slid into you.  Your own eyes followed suit, and a groan climbed up the back of your throat.  Dean.

The weight of him on you and in you was an anchor.  A mooring line to your life- your real life.  Solid and safe and true.  He buried himself as deep as he could, and kept pushing, holding his pelvis hard against your core.  Your every muscle was shaking with the sensation- he was so present in your body.  Your inner walls fluttered around him and you were so overridden that you couldn’t open your eyes.  He was everywhere.  The solid wall of his flesh pressed against your clit in a maddening pressure/friction.  His back muscles flexed under your grasping hands.  His chest held yours trapped against the ground.  Rough fingertips smoothed your hair back, soft lips trailed kisses in a line down your forehead.  And that solid, delicious weight in your center… You realized you were grinding against him, whimpering his name over and over, nudging the tip of his cock into all your deepest sweet spots.  He just kept pressing into you, letting you swim in the feeling.  

“I got you… I got you, Y/N.  Take what you need, baby, I got you… Fuuuck, I love you...”  His voice rumbled in your ear and through your chest, sending a new shower of sparks through your nerves and a fresh flood to your pussy.

“Dean Dean DeanDeanDean...”   

“That’s it,” he murmured against your shoulder.  He was beginning to tremble with the effort of staying still.  “That’s it, baby.  I’m right here... Holy shit that’s good... I’m here, I got you...”

You kept rolling your hips, trying to get him deeper, shifting him around inside, flashes of pleasure building and building and building until you were close to tears again...  Please please please PLEASE!  Finally, mercifully, the tension snapped loose and you shook apart with a silent scream.

Dean couldn’t hold still, anymore.  “Ooooooh, my god!  Fuck, Y/N, I gotta-”  

Your eyes snapped open to drink up the sight of him.  He managed a handful of savage thrusts before he came- hard.  You could feel the pulses discharging impossibly deep.  Your vision sparkled a bit around the edges, your breath rushed out in a gasp, and you wrapped your arms and legs tighter around him, holding him close.  You were both crying, now.

You lay tangled together- inside and outside and around each other- and wept against each other’s shoulders without a sound.  You stayed that way for a long time, even after the tears were spent, just petting and kissing and nuzzling and listening to one another breathe.  Because moving meant you had to get on with this nightmare you were stuck in.  

It was the sound that roused you.  Tinkling whispers like a thousand tiny bells ringing.  Or an army of absurdly delicate wine glasses shivering together.  You and Dean slowly seperated and looked around.  

The red glow of the evening sun was dancing through the clearing, dazzlingly refracted through the innumerable facets of a field of crystal flowers.

Tags: @mamaredd123, @motleymoose, @emilyymichelle, @singingphoenix, @raelady1184, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @icecream-and-gadreel, @deevoon, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @mrsgabrieltrickster