#getting this message is just a sweet ol reminder of it so thank you again <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[skrs-cats]

This isn’t an ask but I just wanna say: THANK YOU OH MY GOD

Your art has sparked my love for warriors and the books in general! And also your art is so amazing and beautiful and I JUST WANNA EAT IT UP.

So yeah, thanks :3

🥺🥺 thank YOU for being here. It's such a sweet thing to hear bc it's exactly how I got inspired to draw when I was a kid as well, to know that people look to my art in a similar way makes my heart swell. Thank u sm for the sweet message 😭❤️

[whositmcwhatsit]

Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

AN: I'm not sure if anyone remembers I used to write silly stories, but here's the next installment of one I have neglected for too long. Thank you to everyone who continued to patiently message and let me know how much they liked the characters and very politely ask for the next chapter.

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen for injuring herself in order to give me motivation. And reading to check that I still remembered how to type words. You might need to remind yourself what happened before: Chapter 11 Chapter 12- Move Across the night sky, with those anonymous lights.

Pulling up to the gate of one of Elvis’ homes always invoked a strange combination of emotions in Chancy no matter how often she visited. Maybe it was the fact that there was always, always, at least a few people standing around ogling her curiously, but there was also the insecurity that this might be the time that the gates would not open for her, and the pride she felt at how much he had achieved, as well as an undeserved sense of personal achievement that she knew someone who had so much. That last one always made her feel guilty. 

Harold kept her waiting, pretending that he needed to come to the window of her Chevrolet to see who she was and then saying he would have to call up to the house to check it was okay.

“Can’t be letting in just anyone, you know.” He went to the gatehouse and the gate began to open immediately. She smiled and pretended to be amused by his trick as she rolled past. 

Chancy pulled up around the back near to the fence where the staff parked. Her car fit in better there than next to the limo and the Lincolns and the cadillacs. She glanced in the rear view mirror and checked her make-up hadn’t slid off her face in the humidity. Her air conditioning was busted, again- it only ever seemed to happen in the summer, a cosmic joke or a punishment. 

Grabbing her two small, yellow travel cases, she swung the door shut with her hip and sighed, trying to force her heart to slow down by denying it oxygen. Just a visit, just a visit, she focused on the words and willed her heart to follow their rhythm. 

“Well, hello there, Chancy.” She started and dropped one of her cases as Mr Presley approached her from the office, a smile on his plump face. He had that end of the day twinkle in his eye and Chancy mused how, between his twinkle and Mrs Presley’s dancing glow in her brown eyes when she was laughing, it was no wonder Elvis could incapacitate people with just a glance.  

“Hi, Sir, it’s good to see you again!” She went to grab her fallen luggage, but Vernon reached it first and picked it up, adjusting his grip and miming like the case was heavy. 

“My Lord, what do you have in here?!”

“Well, you know now a girl can’t give away the secrets needed to make her presentable, it’d spoil the magic, wouldn’t it?” 

“I guess it would,” he agreed, still smiling slightly. “Though I reckon I need some magic to help this ole mug.” 

“Nonsense! I was just about to ask you for your secret!” 

Chancy could do this all day. In fact, she did do this all day; most of her job was buttering up clients and making them feel good about themselves. The fact that there was a slight ache to her cheeks as she smiled now was proof of how hard she worked. 

“Well, you always were a sweet girl,” he returned, glancing over his shoulder at the house and tightening his lips. “Let me walk you in, I know Elvis is expecting you.” He reached out for her other case and she let him take it, puzzled since Vernon didn’t usually go out of his way to be helpful or even really acknowledge her much past a short, pleasant greeting. 

On the way, they made small talk about the weather, which was the law in civilised society. One of them remarking on the heat, the other saying that it had to break soon. Debating whether it was hotter or cooler than previous years and then exchanging stories of the most extreme heat they had ever encountered. He told her about a time when he was a young man down in Mississippi and he was doing some work for a man who wore a hairpiece. The day got so hot that the glue melted and the hair started slipping when he spoke. No one was brave enough to tell him and lose the job. He mimed the man’s hair flying back and forth and how they had to all fight to keep their eyes from flicking from side to side with it. His laughter at his own story was infectious. 

As they came in through the back door, he paused in the dim back hallway. Somewhere nearby she could hear a football game being played on television and men’s voices rising and falling as they questioned plays and commiserated. 

“You know, it sure is good to see you, Chancy. Elvis’ mother always used to speak so highly of you and how well you took care of him.” He left the rest unspoken, looking behind him to the stairs to the basement, and then turning back and nodding at her. 

“Thank you, Mr Presley,” she smiled, a little puzzled. She awkwardly fished back her cases and wondered if he was working up to something, and if she should wait. 

Instead, he opened the door to the kitchen and motioned her in, wishing her a good night. 

In the kitchen, Elvis’ aunt Delta was complaining about trying to buy something and how they had raised the price when she gave them the delivery address. 

“Shouldn’t matter if it’s Tom, Dick or Elvis, if it’s fifty dollars it should stay fifty damn dollars. The nerve of people!” Her little dog was yipping and bouncing around her feet, excited by the heightened emotion in her voice. Mary, Elvis’ cook, her coat on like she had been trying to leave for some time, agreed with her, nodding her head wholeheartedly. 

They both turned to look at Chancy as she paused by the counter with a faint smile of anticipation. It was always a roll of the dice which side of Delta you would get, but that evening was a good day, because they exchanged greetings and Chancy was invited into the story of the new chair that had started out as fifty dollars and became one hundred once it was destined for Graceland. 

“One hundred dollars, my ass! I said, it’s for me, not Elvis and we both of us have enough sense not to waste another fifty dollars on some piece of-” 

The phone rang on the wall by where Delta was sitting at the breakfast bar and she snatched it up, listened for a minute, and then nodded to her. 

“Elvis said to go ahead and go on up.” 

Chancy had to temper her speed as she moved through the kitchen, heading towards the back stairs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your chair,” she shrugged, stepping onto the first tread. 

“Oh honey, I got the chair, and a little table to boot. Soon’s I told ‘em that I’d go home and say what a rat-infested flea-ridden store they had and how we ain’t never gonna shop there again, we got the friends and family discount too.” 

“Well, they’ll know better than to mess with you next time, Mrs Biggs. I might need to get some tips from you for when I have to negotiate with my suppliers.” 

As she was climbing the stairs, she heard Delta say: 

“Honey, I don’t think you need any help from anybody trying to get anything.” 

Her foot momentarily faltered as her body wanted her to stop and march back down, but her brain won out just barely and forced her to continue her climb. By the time she had opened and closed all the doors that marked her journey, she was pretty sure she had knocked her case into her left shin enough times to leave a bruise, and she paused just inside Elvis’ office to run a finger under each eye to catch the slowly dripping mascara. She tapped on the door and waited to hear a low murmur of assent before she pushed the slightly ajar door open. 

Elvis was sitting on his enormous bed with the newspaper laid out before him, apparently deeply engrossed in it, though she knew he had to have been watching the monitors at least a couple of minutes ago to know that she had arrived. 

“Oh no! I think there’s been some mistake!” she lisped in a high voice. “The man at the reception desk said that this was my room.” She whirled around, wide-eyed, in the doorway. “This is room 385631.6 and half, right?” 

Elvis smirked, his lips and cheekbones all curves as his eyes narrowed. His voice was a little thick like his tongue was still waking up.  

“Damn, they must’ve double booked the rooms again, and, you know, I heard the clerk say that they were full up, no vacancies.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head like he was genuinely upset and disappointed in the ‘hotel’. 

“Right,” she responded. “I guess that’ll be because of the convention?” 

He nodded, rising slowly and stepping closer to her, his fingertips tickling her wrist. 

“Uh huh, right, the, uh, One-eyed Albino Python Lovers of America convention,” he nodded, turning away as he almost broke. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a popular one,” she murmured, hearing him snort over his shoulder, and fighting to keep her face straight. 

“Well,” he sighed with a sense of inevitability, turning back to her. “I guess there’s only one thing for it.” He shrugged with his whole body, throwing up his arms. “We’ll just have to share the room.” 

“That seems like that’s all there is to it,” she agreed in her ditsy high voice.

“You sure your boyfriend won’t mind, uh, Miss…?”

“Tallulah-Wanda, and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t, huh. Well, I guess I’m just fixing problems all over the place tonight.” He pulled her into a clinch worthy of one of his movies, dipping her down so that she dropped her cases and grabbed his shoulders for safety. They broke apart and smiled breathlessly at each other for a minute. 

“One-eyed Albino Python Lovers,” she muttered, slapping his shoulder. He smirked and pulled her back up. 

“What? I’m telling ya, Tallulah baby, it’s a real group.”

“Uh huh, and I bet you’ve met quite a few members.” 

“I meet a lot of people,” he replied evasively. He grabbed her jaw and kissed her hard on the mouth. “How was your day?” 

She paused, surprised by the question. “Uh, it was fine, thank you for asking. How was yours?” 

“Honey, I woke up less than two hours ago,” he pointed out, with a wry lift of his eyebrow. 

“Right, right, I’m in the Elvis time zone now. Gotta adjust my clock accordingly. How was your breakfast?” He rolled his eyes and tugged her towards him, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her. 

“That’s enough of that,” he murmured, though he didn’t elaborate on what ‘that’ was, just steered her around and nudged her backwards towards the bed. “Gotta unwrap my present here.” He tugged on her pale pink pussycat bow, teasing the ends out from where they were tucked into her low scooped waistcoat and pulling the loose knot free. 

“You want me to give you my scarf?” she murmured, keeping her voice low to hide how affected she was. “Hmm, that’s a twist.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but he seemed absorbed in his task, letting her silky scarf flutter off to the side as he studied her. She returned the favour, noting how fair his lashes looked in the daylight. His face was fuller, maybe because he hadn’t been well, but his colour was better than when she had last seen him at her house. 

Biting his lip slightly, he unbuttoned her waistcoat, but there was nothing seductive or gentle about his movements. She genuinely felt like a gift given to an overexcited six year old. The waistcoat went in the other direction to her scarf, quickly followed by her heels. 

“I’ll show you where your things are,” he said, pulling away and holding out a hand. She had to tamp down a smile as she let him lead her, padding behind him in her stockinged feet. 

That morning, she had deliberately dressed up in her most businesslike outfit, stopping just short of wearing pants, because she knew he wouldn’t like it. Not to antagonise him exactly, but there had definitely been something pointed in her choice. Some barbed reminder that she was a whole person with a successful, fulfilling life that went on out of his sight line. She wasn’t one of the no doubt many girls around the country just waiting for his call, their life outside of him just filler that happened between their time with him. 

In the ‘guest’ dressing room off his office, he showed her the row of plastic covered outfits that he had bought her on tour as if they had been there ever since he returned and not, as was more likely, hastily moved in that day after the last girl had left. 

“You don’t like what I’m wearing?” she asked as he hovered in the doorway. He shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth, clearly still formulating his reply. “I’m teasing you. Go on now, let me change.”

“Oughta tan your hide,” he muttered, giving her a sideways look as he retreated from the door. “Don’t change your hair.” 

“Saying please don’t hurt you know!” she called out the door. 

“I know!” he hollered back from presumably the bedroom. 

In the small dusky pink dressing room, Chancy deliberately did not touch any drawers, no matter how painfully her curiosity niggled at her. She tried to be as dispassionate as she would be in a communal dressing room, which, essentially, it was. She made sure not to make a mess and folded her own clothes neatly, putting them back into her case. 

There were a few toiletries sitting on top of the dressing table and she leant over them in order to apply more make up to her eyes, appreciating the good lighting. When she had finished, she checked that she had not left a trace and came back out into the office. 

Elvis was sat at his desk with Joe standing over him and murmuring into his ear, his arms spanning the desk and the back of Elvis’ chair. His broad back blocked Elvis from her view. The body language could not have been clearer. 

Without stopping, she tiptoed past them towards the bedroom, still holding her bags. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Elvis snapped over the top of Joe’s low mumbling. Chancy glanced over her shoulder almost guiltily. 

“Going in there? I got changed like you said.” Elvis visibly relaxed, his face smoothing and shoulders dropping. 

“I thought you were ducking out on me. What you got your bags there for?” 

“I didn’t want to leave all my things lying about. I’m trying to change my messy ways, you know.” He shook his head and waved his hand back towards the dressing room. 

“No, go ahead and put everything in there, honey, that’s yours.” She hesitated, but Joe had already resumed his whispering and Elvis was frowning at the console of his desk with its screen and knobs and switches. So, she tucked her cases inside the door of the dressing room and speed-walked past them back into the bedroom. 

The curtains were closed and, though the lamps were lit, the room still felt dark to Chancy. This was not helped by the enormous bed that was clad in black every way from the headboard to the bedcovers. She perched on it primly, her feet barely skimming the floor. She didn’t like that, being reminded that she was short. It made her feel like the room was patting her on the head somehow. 

Instead, she pushed off the bed and scanned the shelves of the units, smiling a little at the framed photos of a blond little girl and running her finger over the ornaments, some of them clearly from fans. 

There were a few records scattered around the record player, their labels a mess of scrawled handwriting that revealed them to be demos. And there were books, piles and piles of books with fuzzy, slightly scary titles like ‘The search for…’, ‘A Study of…’, ‘Explore the world of…’ 

One caught her eye, a small, slim volume with exotic gold patterns etched into the worn covers. She glanced up at the door before she opened it to the foreword. It was Sufi poetry translated from the original Persian. Chancy pressed her fingers to the pages in wonder, trying to make it fit into the already complex and contradictory picture of Elvis she held in her mind.

The man himself burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, but he stopped short when he saw her standing by the shelves as if he had forgotten she was in there. She could see him biting down and breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, like he was trying to change gears while still accelerating.

She didn’t say anything, looking back down at the book and reading the first poem silently to herself, giving him time to collect himself without being observed, to leave without feeling obligated or ask her to leave. She felt him as he drew close to her, his chest brushing her shoulder. 

“It’s good, you should borrow it when I’m done,” he said quietly, calmly. She smiled as she took her hand away from the page and turned towards him.

“What’s it about?”

“I- I can’t exactly say,” he shrugged. “It makes me feel like words and ideas, even sermons and laws, they’re just getting in the way and confusing people, distracting them from the truth and the real essence of God, you know. I-I-I ain’t saying it right, but the guys in this book, they pull back the curtain, you know, and you feel like you’ve caught a glimpse of something, just for a moment, that’s greater and truer than anything else.” 

Chancy tilted her head, letting that sink in.

“I do think I’d like to read it after you, thank you.” He leant past her and picked it up.

“Here, take it, honey. I can get another. Ignore the scribbling though, sometimes I just gotta work things out in my head. Try and get things straight, you know.”

“No, Elvis, I can’t, not if you’re enjoying it! I can wait until you’re done.”

“Baby, I want you to. Like I said, I can get another. And we can talk about it when you’re done reading it. I don’t- I don’t have no one I can discuss these things with. They all just get this damn pie-eyed look on their faces like ole Elvis’s gone nuts and they don’t know who to call to fix it.” He crossed his eyes and pulled a silly face while he pushed the book into her chest until she took hold of it. 

“That’s dumb,” she murmured, cradling the book to her chest. “Everyone knows you already went crazy years ago.”

“Yeah, well whose fault was that,” he returned, gritting his teeth and pushing his forehead against hers, smushing the tip of her nose. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him closer, simultaneously loving and resenting the almost painful wave of relief that rolled over her as she nestled into his arms and felt his soft lips brush against hers. The big sigh he let out as he squeezed her in tighter at least let her know that she wasn’t alone in this comfort trap. 

“I missed this silly little face,” he murmured, one hand gripping her jaw playfully but gently. 

“Really? This one?” She crossed her eyes and scrunched up her nose, tightening her lips so that it looked like she had buck teeth. 

In response, he wrapped one big hand over her face and put a little pressure into it, nudging her backwards. She went with it, trusting him not to have her tumbling on her butt down the stairs. The side of the bed pressed into the back of her legs and she grabbed him by the biceps to stop herself from falling backwards. 

“You missed me too, right?” he almost whispered, leaning down to kiss her again. “Tell me you missed me, Cha Cha.” 

Chancy heard her own voice as if it came from far away, muffled and almost whiny with longing. 

“I missed you, Elvis.” She continued to kiss him even as he turned his head slightly. She could feel his cheek bunch beneath her lips as he smiled, enjoying her affection. “I missed you, I missed you.” She felt his faint stubble grazed against her lips as she let them trail down his cheek and under his jaw. He was bent slightly at the knees so that she could reach, rubbing his thumb around in little circles on her back. Her awareness narrowed to only those points of sensation, the thumb circles on her back, the tingle on her lips, the warmth down her front. 

The phone started trilling. They both looked at it blankly for a second, before Elvis straightened and sighed, going to answer. 

Whatever was being said on the other end of the line irritated Elvis, he mumbled one word answers until he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. 

Without a word, he disappeared into his bathroom and left her yet again wandering around his room, running her fingers over his belongings and trying to pretend that she belonged there. She opened her new book at a random page and let her eyes trip across the words:

“That’s how you came here, like a star,

Without a name…”

She had no idea what it meant, but it sounded beautiful. She murmured it under her breath, finishing with a sharp inhale as Elvis stormed back out of his bathroom clad in a long leather coat, gloves and carrying a police flashlight. 

“C’mon, we’re getting out of here.” 

Billy was waiting at the bottom of the kitchen stairs, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He grinned, reflecting Elvis’ smirk as they converged in the kitchen. 

“They fell for it, huh?” Elvis remarked, knocking Billy’s shoulder with his knuckles. 

“Uh huh, I told ‘em we’d meet ‘em on up ahead.” “Joe bitchin’ and whining about it, I bet,” Elvis remarked gleefully, heading towards the back door with Billy beside him. Chancy trailed them, wondering what the hell was going on. 

The wall of wet heat hit as soon as they stepped outside and Chancy shook her head as she stared at Elvis’ broad back wrapped in black leather even as she was peeling tendrils of her hair away from her damp neck and face. 

Elvis was too busy crowing over his ability to fool everyone to notice the temperature. He and Billy were joking and laughing about it as they passed the car port and continued on down towards the back gate near where Chancy had parked her car. On the road was a white Cadillac coupe with an old, black truck behind it. 

Billy tossed some keys to Elvis, who was still laughing as he got into the truck, but Billy’s smile faded as he turned away and he looked at Chancy with something close to reproach. She couldn’t think why he would be mad with her or blame her when she had no idea what was going on. He was the one going along with whatever crazy plan Elvis had come up with. 

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked nobody in particular. 

“Shh, we’re being sneaky!” Elvis whispered in an Elmer Fudd voice, leaning out the window. “C’mon, Cha Cha, get in!”  

She looked to Billy again, hoping for something that made more sense, but he had already climbed into the Cadillac and the back gate was opening. Elvis beckoned her and she hurriedly circled the truck and jumped in. 

As they pulled out into the narrow road that ran down the side of the church next door, Elvis accelerated slightly and gave the Cadillac in front a little nudge on the bumper, grinning so wide that his dimples made an appearance. 

“Uh, shouldn’t you have your lights on?” Chancy asked, goosebumps of anticipation nonetheless breaking out over her arms as she caught his infectious excitement. 

“Now that wouldn’t be very sneaky of little old us, would it.”

“Billy’s got his on.”

“Exactly!” 

Ahead of them, Billy pulled out onto the highway and faintly they could hear a few people shouting. Elvis waited, engine idling with his lights off. Chancy watched him expectantly as he tapped his thumbs on the top of the steering wheel, humming quietly under his breath. He seemed to become aware of her eyes and glanced towards her, eyes narrow and cheekbones brimming with mirth. 

“Being bad feels good, don’t it?” 

“It might, if I knew what we were doing.” He didn’t reply, just flew out onto the highway, switching on his lights at the last minute and swerving around the oncoming traffic. 

Eyes on the rear view mirror, he murmured, “I bet they’re shitting a brick right about now, man. Serves ‘em right, serves ‘em right. I tell you, boy…” 

“So we’re not going to the recording studio?” Chancy asked, mainly to remind him that she was in the car too and he didn’t need to talk to himself. 

“You catch on fast, don’t you,” he remarked, shooting her a sideways look. “Baby, what are you doing all the way over there?” He reached blindly across the bench seat and clamped a hand on her thigh, trying to drag her closer to him. She made a series of unladylike noises as she left behind half of the skin from the back of thighs on the warm leather. 

“Where are we going then?” she inquired, once she was flush against him, her forearm resting on his thigh and her cheek stuck to his coat. 

“Well…” He tailed off. “Where would you like to go?” She bit down on her lip as he made himself sound very magnanimous and not at all like he hadn’t thought his great escape plan all the way through.

“I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch,” she reasoned. “Maybe we could-” He took a sharp turn that almost sent her sprawling. “Or maybe we could not die, Elvis, how about that?!”

He snorted and glanced at her with his eyebrow quirked playfully. She swatted at him, because he knew exactly what to do to take the heat out of her irritation, leaving her with just the intellectual understanding that she should feel annoyed. 

“Poor widdle Cha Cha, all moody and mad cos she’s hungry,” he murmured in that damn baby voice again. She was about to swat him a little harder when he did a double take out of his side window. “Hey, you know, I ran out of gas there one time.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, back when I was starting out. It was one of the first times it got really crazy, boy. The cops had to come out and everything. It was wild.”

“Uh huh, getting a ride in the back of a police car to the gas station is not something you ever forget. Especially after I got back and some girl called me your whore.”

Chancy watched his face as his brain worked overtime, recalling the little details that he usually airbrushed from the patter he gave his dates as he took them on a personal tour of his home town, like who else had been there.

“They called you a whore?” he echoed finally, focusing on the detail where he had no culpability. “I didn't know that.”

“Well, it wasn't something I would've wanted to repeat.” 

It had been the first time she had been the victim of jealous, spiteful resentment, but not nearly the last. She shook her head like she could dislodge the echoes of embarrassment, hurt and outrage she had felt. 

“Besides, you didn’t even remember I was there!” She smacked his leg and turned away slightly, playing at being mad. 

“Honey, I did! I-I remember, I was just testing you!” 

“Uh huh,” she murmured. “Well, I guess I passed.” 

“With flying colours,” He hit her with a poorly aimed kiss on the ear as he steered the truck into a parking lot. Chancy glanced around and realised he had pulled into Dairy Queen. 

“You do take me to the fanciest places,” she teased, already moving to climb out. 

“Well, I only know of two ways to get you out of this mood you’re in,” he returned with irritating insight. “One’s food and the other… Well, we’re in public, honey, you know.” She felt so much better about the shiver she had to fight back when she saw that, despite the naughty look on his face, he had gone pink. 

“You are terrible,” she informed him. “Hey, where are you going?” He paused as he pushed open his door.

“There’s only one way out,” he replied, looking bemused. 

“You can’t go in there!” she exclaimed, then wanted to rewind time and roll her tongue back in, because the one way to guarantee Elvis would do something was to tell him that he couldn’t. “Baby, you don’t have any of the guys with you. It’s not safe.” 

“It’s late, Cha Cha, I’m not letting you go in there by yourself,” he returned. Then, she witnessed the exact same expression of regret cover his face that must have shone from hers moments before. Because telling her that she wasn’t allowed to do something was like firing a starting pistol. 

“It’s not exactly Times Square.”

“I don’t give a damn. Cha Cha, honey, you got all kinds of characters out there now, crazy sonsofbitches and losers strung out on all these fucking drugs they’re pushing on the streets. Baby- Baby, you don’t understand because you don’t know what it’s really like.” She bristled at the condescending tone and folded her arms over her grumbling stomach. 

“Well, then it’s not safe for either of us.” 

After ten minutes of silent sulking and hunger, they came to a compromise. Chancy would go in and order the food, and Elvis would park as close as possible with his gun ready just in case. 

As silly as she knew all that was, Chancy still felt tingles of apprehension as she pulled on the metal bar and opened the door.

At that time of the evening, the place was full of teenagers hanging out and families grabbing a treat on the way home from the movies. None of them really spared her a look apart from a few pleasant smiles as she made her way to the counter. 

Not long later, she was juggling a sack and two milkshakes and stopped to thank a man who had jumped up to hold the door for her. He smiled back, nodding at her chest rather than her face. 

Turning towards the truck, she let out a little gasp as she saw a small knot of people standing by the driver’s door. Her heart hammering, she glanced towards the phone booth at the front of the parking lot, wondering if she would have to make a call to Graceland to get someone out to help. 

As she drew closer, she saw that it was just an older couple and their children. As long as they made a getaway before they attracted any more attention they would be okay. 

When she climbed in the cab, Elvis was signing a scrap of paper, what looked like a receipt, and he handed it over, ruffling the young son on the head. Chancy kept her head down so as not to attract notice. The only problem was that the family did not seem satisfied with the autograph and small talk and lingered, forcing Elvis to say that they had to leave. They even took a few steps forward as he backed out, like they were going to follow them on foot. 

“Just can’t stay out of trouble for a minute, can you,” she remarked, handing him his milkshake. 

“Well, you were gone so damn long,” he complained, spilling a little of the shake on his pants as he tried to negotiate the road. “Goddamn it! She quickly retrieved the paper cup before it was thrown, possibly at her. He was still swearing as he pulled into a rest area, the frosty drink slowly trickling into uncomfortable places. 

Seeing his mood souring, she grabbed a napkin from the sack but hid it at her side. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she exclaimed brightly, ducking her head down towards his lap. 

“Chancy, no!” His voice went impossibly high, breathless and panicked. 

She burst out laughing, she couldn’t help it, and tossed the napkin at him as she collapsed against the back of the seat, gasping and giggling, wiping her eyes. She tried to get herself under control as he irritably wiped at his pants with the napkin, muttering under his breath, but every time she looked at him, all kitted out in his flashy badass outfit, she kept hearing his panicked protest like he was a sweet virgin being propositioned by an over amorous date. 

“Don’t see what’s so goddamn funny,” he snapped. “My fucking pants are ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice quivering very slightly as she bit on the inside of her cheek. “I…” She started laughing again and he smacked the steering wheel and started the engine, shaking his head. “No, baby, no, I’m sorry!” She lifted her milkshake and tipped it slightly as if she was going to dump the whole thing in her own lap. “Look, you give me the word and we’ll match. Want me to?” 

A fast diesel truck rattling by startled her and she jerked slightly, causing a large drop to splat onto her bare leg. 

“Damn, that’s cold!” she hissed. His eyes twinkled and a slow smile crept across his face. She realised that there was a very real possibility that he was about to knock the cup over her and almost resigned herself to it. 

“You’re crazy, you know that,” he remarked, before very slowly and deliberately leaning down and licking the milkshake from her thigh. He punctuated that by opening his mouth and pretending to take a bite of her, his teeth leaving a faint imprint in her pale skin under the light of the cab. Holding her breath, Chancy now understood how fish felt drowning on dry land.

They ate their food at the rest stop without much chat. Elvis was still mad at her for laughing at him. It was always a sore point for him, and she sensed that he was embarrassed by his unfiltered reaction to the idea of her going down on him in public. He always loved to give off the impression that he was unflappable, that there was no boundary that he would not push and no impulse he would not indulge, but that wasn’t true. Not really.  

Licking the salt from her fingers, she leant up and kissed his cheek as he chewed the last of his third burger. He didn’t reciprocate, but nor did he move away, just looked out the window at the shadowy brush. She stuffed the wrappers into the empty sack and slid a little closer to him, her bent knees knocking into his thigh. 

Rising on her knees, she nudged her nose into the hair at his temple, pressing butterfly kisses into his skin, catching her lip on the arm of his sunglasses. His fingers tapped on the ledge of his open window, almost like she was keeping him from a more pressing appointment, and she wondered if his mood had sunk too low to be recovered. She started to draw back, but the firm line of his arm just behind her shoulders stopped her retreat. 

She studied him, looking down from his turned cheek to where the tendon in his neck was just visible above his turned-up collar as he craned his head away from her. Almost tentatively, she pressed her lips against it, feeling his pulse pounding beneath the salty skin. She lapped at it with tiny kitten licks until he jerked away, trying to hide his smile.  

Leaning forward, he started the engine and pulled back out onto the road, executing a neat u-turn so that they were heading north. 

“Where are we going now?”

“Gotta get you back to the nuthouse before they send out the guys with straitjackets,” he replied, shooting her a sly grin. 

“Uh huh, I’m sure it’d be me they were looking for,” she replied, settling herself down at his side. He just kept smiling, dropping his hand into her lap and entwining their fingers. That didn’t last long, because he had to keep twiddling the dial of the radio every time the deejay started talking. 

“Wasn’t that George?” she asked, as he abruptly twisted the knob again, muttering a curse word. “I don’t care who it was,” he snapped. “Don’t talk over the goddamn song. What’s the point of them even playing songs if they’re gonna-” He let out some high pitched gibberish that sounded like an irate chipmunk after sucking helium. 

“So, where’s next on the famous Elvis’ hometown tour?” “Aw, honey, there’s no…” He didn’t even bother finishing his lie. “There ain’t no point showing you, you know more about it than I do. I ever end up writing that book about my life, you’ll be there…’No, Elvis, it didn’t happen like that, I was there.’” She shook her head at his usual high-pitched impression of her. 

“The two of us in rocking chairs, me trying to edit every story,” she added. “In my head, you’re old when you’re writing this life story.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she had basically admitted that she pictured them together when they were old. That was giving away too much and also trying to take too little. 

If he noticed her embarrassment or thought that the idea of them being together when they were old was far-fetched, he didn’t show it, huffing a laugh as he guided them back through more familiar streets. “We’re going back? So soon?” She thought of all the people back at the house, likely some annoyed employees and some tense phone calls to be made. She wondered if they would get to sneak out like this again during her stay, and considered that plans would probably be put in place to stop that happening. 

“Well,” he bounced a closed fist against the inside of the truck door. “I gotta change my damn pants and… It seems like you might still be in a bad mood, honey. I think it might be time to try the second thing.”

Tag lIst: @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation, @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts, @joshuntildawn13, @i-r-i-n-a-a, @from-memphis-with-love, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny

[a-queer-seminarian]

big ol' worry dump, i promise i'll post something rebloggable soon but i'm still processing everything and have not had time to write it coherently! cw queerphobia from the pulpit, church hurt, verbal violence, and brief csa mention (not a specific case)

SO. for anyone not keeping up, this past Sunday i visited my childhood church in ohio, and was devastated when near the end of his homily (Catholic word for sermon haha) my childhood pastor suddenly switched from celebrating the Spirit who bursts through closed doors to proclaiming that The Church Is Under Attack from people like the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. :/

After he finished and sat down, i stood up and got behind the lectern/pulpit to remind him and everyone in the room that queer and trans people have the Holy Spirit too, because his words implied otherwise. And i could not risk that any other person there felt suddenly and utterly alone — i had to make sure they knew that not everyone agreed with our priest's message.

(Here's a place you can watch a clip of the homily — obviously mega content warning for homophobia, please keep yourself safe and remember you are loved!! — as well as my response)

Not long into speaking, I was escorted peacefully out of the building. Two parishioners followed and found me outside, and thanked me for what i said. They were very sweet <3

As we were talking, another parishioner stormed out and got very, very verbally violent. It was scary shit.

Other parishioners eventually came out and led Scary Man away, thankfully. The church's other, younger & newer priest, Father Jim, also came out to apologize profusely to us. Then i went home. My wife and i flew home to Georgia the next morning.

____

and...stuff keeps happening.

i did not expect this to make the news, but it did. the Cleveland Plain Dealer wrote on it, and so have other papers across the country.

an officer called me to ask if i wanted to press charges on Scary Man. I don't, because i'm just not convinced the results would be helpful to actually stopping him from doing what he did again.

if anyone has resources or someone smart i could talk to for advice on alternatives to cops & court for a situation like this, please hit me up!!!

after agreeing to an interview with the Plain Dealer reporter, which used my first and last name, folks have been finding me on social media to offer their support, which actually has been so uplifting and i plan to post some of the messages later!

my parents are proud of me and support me BUT my mom is worried sick that someone is going to, like, find out where i live and come attack me. i'd be more worried that they find out who my parents are and go attack them, tbh.

i've had more sudden spikes of adrenaline in the past five days than i have in the past like, 2 years lol

i've also talked with more different individuals on the phone in the past five days than i had over the rest of 2023 so far

i was scrolling through twitter last night and randomly came across a tweet featuring a TikTok of a cut-down version of my priest's homily + my response...i really don't like what parts they cut out, or what they titled it. and it's got over a million views. :OOO

there's a lot of confusion in the replies — people who don't realize i'm a former parishioner, not an active one; people not knowing how to gender me which is fine but it's, you know, getting a little grating; and of course, people resorting to saying Father Tim must be "closeted gay" or otherwise have a Sinister Secret himself to say what he said...I hate that kind of rhetoric.

Not every person who spouts homophobia is secretly gay. The Biggest Homophobes are usually, shockingly, straight.

And flippantly suggesting that anyone, even a Catholic priest, is a pedophile without facts to back that accusation up only serves to harm csa victims — because then when there really is a case that needs to be pursued, people may not take it seriously.

one big thing that's bothering me about how everyone on every side of the debate is interpreting Father Tim's homily is they are focusing mostly on his condemnation of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence — and while I certainly oppose what he said about them, it's actually the first half of his message that scared me more: the stuff about the church being under attack and how Christians must defend it. He ended with a vague reminder to do so "peacefully," without any examples about how that's even done. And obviously, Scary Man didn't absorb that part of the message.

sigh. i was really hoping that agreeing to an interview with the plain dealer reporter who wrote the first article would give me a chance to explain why i felt i had to interrupt Mass, but unfortunately they didn't include those quotes. i'm really disappointed.

that article's title also says "attendee fired back," using exactly the kind of violence-coded language that I had a problem with in F. Tim's homily. So that's really unfortunate.

which is why i want to write up my perspective. i did send a long ass email to father tim the other night explaining what i did, why his message was hurtful AND fueled his parishioner's violence, and asking if we could talk about alternative ways to hold Scary Man accountable beyond the law. he hasn't responded yet.

anyway. yeah. it's been. a lot. good vibes and prayers are so very appreciated! and seriously, if anyone has resources about alternatives to legal action when we're dealing with someone who got very verbally violent and physically aggressive, i'd love some help figuring out what to do. also any thoughts about like, keeping myself safe? yeah

Anyway, gonna end with the affirmation that God made us Good; human diversity is what it looks like to be in the image of an Infinite creator; and queerness is a holy gift that the Body of Christ can't do without!!

Amen and amen.

[pprodsuga]

omggg a snippet just for meeee i'm so honoured u wanted to share something with lil 'ol me. stop it before i develop a parasocial relationship with you...

on a different note, if u will allow me to rant for one wee second.. this is completely irrelevant to anything but i was looking for some romcom novels to read (bc i need to stop letting fanfiction consume me), and tell me why authors pick the ugliest most generic ytest names. i haven't read a real book in a while and i'm so used to reading ff now where even side characters have korean names that the switch over back to western books is awful. i had to stop my search bc wtf is GARRETT and TUCKER. ik a korean name is just a name, there's nothing objectively special, but it's just more unique in the sense that i don't see it often outside of media. the only way to get around this is fantasy books where the names aren't even real names (thank god the book im currently reading is fantasy). PLEASE can i just get an ethnic name and maybe more ethnic characters or something... sob. i just want a college romcom to cope so i can get away from college au's😭 yeah it's fucked for me. thank u for listening to my unsolicited bitch sesh

-comet

just for you, for always being so thoughtful in your words. more under the cut to spare the dash.

your first messages back in june struck a chord within me for two reasons: talking about my writing was an incredibly kind thing for you to do and it validated the hell out of my work. but also, i was experiencing a lot of friendship turmoil that i had to navigate (re: why i wrote never to keep).

i don’t know if i’ve ever expressed just how grateful i am to have read your messages at that time because for that entire month, i felt like i did not have anyone in my life to back me up when i stood up for myself. knowing that you thought i must be someone with a great deal of empathy and kindness restored a bit of faith in me and who i am as a friend. i reread your message over and over again until i could remind myself that i am who i am for a reason. so thank you.

character names are something i think about a lot, both in fanfics and regular fiction. i’m oftentimes taken out of the story when it feels so incredibly yt (but go figure, i’m not white but have a “white” name so i understand that there is some nuance sprinkled in there). but sometimes we just crave that subtle representation in an ethnic name so i don’t have to wait for the author to explain that they’re not….white. in every sense of the word. but like if you’re gonna pick a white name then at least make them sound HOT?

onto the snippet! i’m excited to post this one. no idea when i’ll finish writing/editing but i’m excited that you’re excited. not providing context bc im a menace and will make you wait. 😎 (thank you for being excited.)

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Sunghoon turns to look at you. “You were always the most unpredictable part of my day.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah. You moved into the apartment next to mine and running into you a few times a week kept me on my toes. I don’t know. I guess I saw you as someone I would have potentially befriended. I could at least pretend I was coming home to talk to someone who cared.” 

“That’s…very sweet. You’re a nice person, Sunghoon.” 

He sighs. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t know when I’m gonna see my family and friends again and explain all of this, but I'm starting to get the feeling that they’ll never hear from me and they’ll never know what happened tonight.” 

“You know,” you begin, “a lot of my life was spent moving from place to place and never having anything or anyone to call home. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you to leave everything behind. For that, I truly am sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault,” Sunghoon says dryly. “Whoever tried to kill you should get a bullet to his head.” He hears you laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah, well that likely wouldn’t solve our problems.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t think that man acted on his own accord. It’s too professional to assume he’s working alone.” 

“You’re saying he’s working with someone else?” 

“Or, he’s working for someone.” 

Sunghoon gulps. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The price of freedom is high. Remember that.” 

“You know, none of this explains how you know what you’re doing. If you know, for that matter.” 

He doesn’t hear you move for a short while and closes his eyes shut. Once again, he’s found himself slipping up and saying things that don't translate well. Too afraid to speak, Sunghoon considers sleeping and dealing with his actions in the morning. 

“I know what I’m doing because I’ve done it before,” you say through the darkness. “When your whole life revolves around survival, you adapt to the best of your ability and do anything to stay alive. I’ve learned a few things from my time on the run so please know that I know what I’m doing.”

“Who are you?” 

The room is silent. 

“Someone you can trust.” 

[saitama-division]

ARB Birthday Special: Lola Takahashi

~~ July 30th ~~

“A wonderful dress can infuse a woman with confidence and inner beauty, empowering the way she moves and feels.”

Login Lines:

“Hm? Oh hey, babes! It’s sooooo good to see you! How you’ve been? Oh? What’s this?”

“Oh gosh, it’s that time of year again, huh? Aw, thank you for the present sweetie! Here’s one from me to you!” *mwah*

Voice Lines:

“On the contrary, I actually like celebrating my birthday. Aside from everyone celebrating me in all my amazing and sexy glory, it does allow me to reflect and I feel proud getting to where I am today. I worked hard, I deserved to be celebrated.”

“My phone keeps blowing up with notifications from my PROFILE, I get a happy birthday message at least every few seconds, don’t get me wrong it’s very sweet and I’m so grateful to my adoring fans but I have to put my phone on silent for the rest of the day.”

“Just like last year, the entirety of Saitama is very keen on celebrating my birthday with me. I’ve been hoping from party to party all day! I don’t mind of course, I love my city dearly and it fills me with such joy seeing everyone enjoying themselves.”

“Sayaka! Sweetness! I’m so happy you managed to show up! Are you having a good time? Oh, I’m so glad! C’mon, let’s head over to the Heaven area, there’s someone I want you to meet-hm? You have something for me?”

“Oh Honey! These are so adorable! I love them! Honestly, it feels like we’ve known each other far longer, I see you as a sister too and I genuinely can’t imagine my life without you, Kureha, and little Yoshiko. Don’t worry about the extravagance this is more priceless than any diamond necklace or platinum earrings I have.”

“Kureha! How’s my little ray of sunshine?! Aw, c’mon, you know I’m kidding, would you feel better if I say that you’re my special little rain cloud? Ahahaha, okay, okay, I’ll stop! So, judging by that look in your eye, you’ve come to give lil ol’ me à présent so come on! Lay it on me!”

“Aw, sweetie! This is so beautiful! It reminds me of your speakers, so very aesthetically pleasing. Hm? The sun is supposed to represent me and the moon is supposed to represent you? Oh god, you’re such a poetic emo, it’s so adorable! Aww, hold on, babe, come back! I was just teasing!”

“Dolly Darling! Thank you thank you thank you soooo much for hosting this party! I’ve been here, there, and everywhere but no place is better than the Afterlife! Look! You even got a statute of me! Damn, that looks good! Hm? Oh I see that look in your eyes, what do you got for me now, pretty?”

“No fucking way!! You actually managed to get it! Ugh, you have no idea how badly I’ve been craving these! Especially since they don’t sell them in Japan anymore! Oh thank you thank you, baby! You’re the best! You treat me so well!”

Sayaka Lines:

“Happy Birthday, Lola! You always know how to throw a fun party, I’m having so much fun! Oh, wait, before we go, I need to give you your present! Here you go, dear!”

“I know it’s not fancy or extravagant as what you usually wear but I had meaning to give you something like this for a while, you’ve always been like a sister to me, way better than the one that I already have and words cannot describe how lucky and grateful I am for having you in my life. I know that our bond is deep to the point where we don’t need something like these but sometimes it’s nice to have a physical reminder of how much family is important.”

Kureha Lines:

“Happy Birthday, Lola. You are the only person that I would endure going to a party longer than 20 minutes for, also could you not call me that?! That’s so cringe, ugh, that’s even worse! Will you just shut up and take this already?”

“I cashed in a favor with a jeweler friend of mine, the design was my idea. I know it looks like my speakers but that’s not the point, the sun represents you because of how brightly you shine and how you always light up the area around you whereas the moon represents me, calm, toned down, a beacon in total darkness…ugh, and with that, I’m leaving. Happy birthday, dumbass.”

Bonus! Dolly Lines:

“Heyyy bitch! Happy birthday to the sexiest whore in the city! You know that I love to do something special just for you, the whole staff was begging me to do a celebration in your honor anyways, I’m just glad you managed to show up. Anyways, I wanted to give you a little something since it’s your big day and all, something tells me that you’re gonna need it after all this.”

“Haha yep, I knew you’d like it. I know how bummed you were when they stopped selling these here so I decided to cash in a little favor and get you a carton, it wasn’t that difficult to get but try not to smoke the whole pack in one sitting, gotta save that beautiful voice of yours, okay? Happy birthday, baby.”

[gillianthecat]

War of Y: War of Managers - final episode (ep 10 overall)

In which I am bored and confused and talking about nonsense (and Gaga's functionality). And then all of a sudden really fucking pissed (but still confused)

~ We see inside the mystery box (which I forgot all about,lol, so I appreciate the flashbacks). It contains... 🥁 Picture of P Atichon!!! I guess Bew had an obsession? And/or a crush? And what is Bew's dream that hasn't come true yet? 🤔

~ I do like the title sequence music. It reminds me of tv shows themes from the late 90s USA (like Buffy) for some reason, maybe the electric guitars?

~ Yes, Kang, your dress is very pretty. But wait, what is he paying them off for? (Or just paying I suppose, but it's more likely to be something underhanded.) 2 million baht is about $52,000 USD. (Why am I doing any research for this show? Who knows.)

~ Oh and hey! This is not the Death Stairs House! (I assume, I gather it has a lot of rooms but this looks like a different style.) Diversity Win! 🎉

~ Bew's hiding behind columns and eavesdropping again. I should have known something was fishy with him earlier based on that habit.

~ I guess if they took the money Gus and Bew would have said nicer things? Oh wait, Pla did take the money. I'm just confused. I may or may not be less confused about this in 55 minutes.

~ I think this was a positive message about being gay? But the translation was weird so I'm not sure what they were actually saying.

~ Yay fitting some marriage equality campaigning into your BL! Good work, Cheewin!

~ Bew and the tv host (Sprite!) are buds? I guess they've both been in the industry a long time.

~ Bew looks so happy about this surprise birthday. If I wasn't suspicious of him I wouldn't be suspicious.

~ I do appreciate the lack of yelling so far. I assume it will resume at some point, but it's been relaxing.

~ I can't decide if I want Bew to be in love with Gus or for it to all be an elaborate revenge plot.

~ Why are Pla and Toon in Gus and Bew's house? Whose house is to anyways? I continue to be very confused about locations on this show.

~ So the not signing a contract was Bew's idea? Toon wanted it? Are they trying to redeem her here or... ? Cause even if he didn't want to, she's the professional, she should know better.

~ The thing with Cheewin's group scenes is that you can so often see the actors hitting their marks. Like, walk -> arrive -> lines. It makes it look very amateurish. I like the dark green velvet though.

~ This dressing room convo feels sweet.

~ Oh. Here comes drama!

~ Yo's smirk as he lounges in the chair! He may be my favorite character. He's mysterious enough to be interesting. (As opposed to Bew, who is also mysterious, but confusing about it.)

~ Bew turning to the ol' panic attack trick. I mean, I believe he's faking, but your logic doesn't make sense, Toon. Seems perfectly reasonable that a person with panic attacks would also search for the symptoms 🤷🏻‍♀️

~ Was Gus suspicious before this? Why is he so quick to believe (known liars) Pla and Toon?

~ That's a very quick jump to confessing, Bew. I guess we do have to wrap this all up (lol, as if there's going to be any sort of meaningful conclusion) in 30 minutes.

~ I was going to write out all the twists and turns of who did what. But then I realized that I don't care that much.

~ Aww 🙁 poor Nott. Only 10% of the vote and his name doesn't even get in the headlines. I would vote for you, Nott 🗳

~ I was going to say Yo gets less interesting the more I learn about him, bu then he said he has a baby?!

~ Oh. Yo was talking to Bew that night. Tricksy editing and camera angles, ya fooled me.

~ If I could manage to embrace this as a soap opera I would probably like it more. Unfortunately I rarely watch soap operas.

~ What?! The back arrow button is working to skip backward?!!!! This is amazing!!! Thank you Gaga!!!! Did you read my complaint on Tumblr yesterday and rush to implement a fix because you love me that much. Aww, you're so sweet to me ☺️

~ Wait. Now it's not working ☹️ I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID DIFFERENT AHH! I literally just paused and then pressed play again, I didn't even minimize the full screen.

~ Oh yes, I paused because I wanted a screenshot of Kang, who continues to look fabulous at al times.

~ This would probably be slightly better and possible make a smidge more sense if the subtitles had better translations. I think I have the gist of what's going on, but it's possible I missed a turn or too in the plot twists.

~ AHHHH. SKIPPING IS WORKING AGAIN! I THINK I FIGURED IT OUT YOU HAVE TO KEEP THE CURSOR ON THE LITTLE CIRCLE. It only skips like a second or two but that's better than nothing I think.

~ Oh wait. Now it's skipping back WITHOUT the curser in the little circle. And for more seconds at a time. I give up. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Gaga makes almost as little sense as this show.

~ I don't understand what this show wants me to be thinking or feeling here as Pla and Toon confront Bew. Am I supposed to agree with them? Feel sorry for him? Everyone is in the wrong, but I feel like I'm expected to sympathize with somebody, I just really can't tell who.

~ Caught by your own trick, Bew! Lol. (Also if they're clever they'll have also recorded his big supervillain confession speech.)

~ And they were! Even better, Toon was recording a Live, lol.

~ Oh but she wasn't broadcasting? (Also Gaga won't let me skip now 🤷🏻‍♀️)

~ Toon. Darling. Bitch. Sweetheart. You're just as bad as him. He sent Gus to jail, you almost killed him with a shrimp brownie. Are we supposed to believe that you believe you have the moral high ground here?

~ Ah, Bew baby. I'm actually feeling sad for you right now. I too want you to get this award, this emblem of all your ambitions, this reason for the scheming.

~ I'm getting a little teary eyed about this speech and everyone's faces. With this sad music 😢

~ Ok. I am really fucking pissed about how this is ending. Somehow all that nonsense and melodrama where everyone behaved terrible, all of that gets tied up as Bew Learns A Lesson About Ambition. What. The. Fuck. (I guess it could slightly redeem at the very end but I don't see how.

~ So he's supposed to be "forgiven" by Toon and they bond again? And why is this airport reconnection with Gus in front of all these fans? What the fuck is going on?

~ Gus literally says "you got your lesson." But what about everyone else???!!!! Where are their lessons??!!! Cheewin you've spent the whole preceding four and a half hours showing us everyone's bad behavior and now it's completely forgotten because... ? I don't even know why. It is the oddest storytelling choice in an ocean of odd choices.

~ WHY ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT THIS IN FRONT OF THE FAN CLUB????!!!!! And the fans are recording this very personal and probably damaging conversation. What. The. Fuck.

~ And then Gus pats his head, the fans all smile, and Bew walks off surrounded by supportive messages from his fans saying they miss him. Ok. I have no idea what Cheewin is trying to say here.

--

Well. I have no idea what this show was trying to do. But as far as I can tell there were no levels that it worked on. I mean, I assume it's going for melodrama and plot twists. But I feel like for that to work, there has to be some sort of still point amidst the chaos. Some sort of anchor for the audience to connect to. Because the melodrama doesn't mean anything to me if I don't care about any of the characters. The don't have to be a good person, but I think I do have to understand them at least a little more. And I'm sure it's possible to write it so that the anchor point sympathy character can also be revealed to be the manipulator but, uh... this show did not manage it.

I think I would have loved a story of an ambitious actor who went too far in his struggle for the top. But somehow that's not what this felt like. Too much focus on Toon and Pla maybe? I feel like we needed to see more of Bew somehow for this to have worked, even if it still kept his scheming a secret. This I guess is the same criticism I had at the beginning, that all the screen time and dramatics were taken up by people the emotional arc wasn't about.

I think Bew and his ambition were the emotional core of the series. Because that's the only time I felt emotion - when Bew was shown wanting things - acting skill, Gus, the award. But so little time was spent on that. It was the first 30 minutes and the last 30 minutes. But it needed to also be in the middle.

I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. I have no idea what to change. The plot twists felt arbitrary and tedious. If Cheewin has a message about the industry of got lost in the mess. And that fucking ending had no connection to all those ridiculous fucking plot twists.

Like it felt like the end was supposed to be Bew Learns A Lesson. But that didn't fit with anything that came before.

Anyway. I'm mad. If you have any insights into this show I'd welcome them. I could spend time trying to analyze what went wrong. But I don't think it's worth it. The show just fucking sucked. Cheewin was not only trying to have his cake and eat it too, but also sell it and auction it off at the same time. It didn't work.

Not gonna keep watching the next sections. I've lost all trust in Cheewin. What little trust I had.

[honeyhan-123]

A Slice of Heaven ~ Part One

Summary: When Jensen stumbles across Melody Meringue on a cam website, he just can’t forget her and his obsession blurs the lines between right and wrong.

Warnings: masterbation, camgirl, mention of anal.

Word Count: 1.7k

AN: This can be read as a standalone and has very little - if any - darkness to it. However, Jensen will start to turn dark in the later parts. 

Also this is my first time writing for Jensen so I hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

It all started with a crass joke made by Cougar. Like most of his jokes, Jensen was there but of it. He was used to it by now but something about the way Cougar patronised him about how he wouldn’t understand because of his inability to make a woman look his way just got under his skin. 

Even as Jensen made his way home later that night he was still seething. His anger wasn’t directed at Cougar but at women in general. Why didn’t they pay him any attention? He was just as fit as Cougar, just as smart as him too, probably more so given everything he could do with a computer, but women still ignored him.

He was too potent up to eat so instead Jensen logged onto his laptop and opened up a private browser. He hardly had to type in the first word before google knew what he wanted, offering up the direct link. He was greeted with a black screen and bold red words slowly started to appear. Hot single and lonely.

Jensen pulled his laptop to the edge of his desk and reached into the draw, searching for the secret little satin bag with one hand while his other scrolled down the website. He wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for tonight but he was having fun looking at all the choices. He was tossing up between a best friend threesome and a horny stepmom when a little notification along the top left of the screen caught his eye. 

Melody Meringue is about to go live. Click here to join. 

Jensen had never really been one for cam girls, he preferred to be able to to skip to the good parts but there was something about the little miniature image of you. There you were kneeling on your bed, a white babydoll covering your sensuous curves, and a golden mask covering the top half of your face. He couldn’t help but click on the link. 

It was free to join so Jensen figured you must be pretty new to the scene. You mustn't have amassed enough followers yet for them to charge a joining fee. 

You hadn’t started the session yet so while Jensen was waiting for it to begin he headed to the kitchen, his little satin bag in hand. He still had enough time to boil some water before you were meant to start, plus Jensen figured you wouldn’t get to the good stuff for a while, wanting to go through as many pay barriers as possible. 

When the water started to bubble over, Jensen opened up his most recent purchase. It was pitiful that he had had to stoop so low, relying on a flashlight to keep him company. Maybe if women weren’t so shallow and vapid, he’d have a real pussy to fuck. 

By the time his toy had warmed up enough and was once again sitting in front of his screen, you were ready to start. 

‘Well, it looks like I have a nice big turnout tonight. Thank you all so much, you really do know how to make a girl feel special.’ Jensen swallowed thickly. Your voice was so perfect, so sweet and innocent. He could already tell a girl like you didn’t belong on a seedy website like this. 

‘To any newcomers, I’m Melody Meringue and here’s how this is going to work. I’m here to please you, to make sure you have a good time and the best way to ensure that is to click on the little dollar sign down the bottom. There’ll be a list of actions I can perform for you, each with a different amount attached. However if there’s anything you’d like to see that isn’t listed just send me a message and I’m sure we’ll be able to arrange something.’ 

All of that seemed fairly standard to Jensen, despite never having seen a show like this before and he was surprised by how many messages there were already. They ranged from ‘c’mon Melody. Let Daddy see those gorgeous tits’ all the way to much more crude messages ‘I want to see that big purple dildo up your ass this time’. A wave of heat flushed through Jensen as he read that last message. He could barely imagine a sweet thing like you taking something up the ass but god, did he want to see it. 

With one hand Jensen fumbled with his best while his other filled the fleshlight with lube. He was already straining against his pants and he was desperate to get off with you.

He watched with eager eyes as your hands travelled up your luscious body and squeezed your tits together, letting the flesh pop out over the top. How he wanted to bury his face on your chest, kissing and nuzzling the tender skin there. Or slide his cock between your tits, coating them in his essence. 

Jensen had no idea how long he had been watching but you’d discarded the chiffon babydoll and bra you had one underneath when the first paywall came up. It was only $5 to keep on going and Jensen was definitely hooked enough to keep on watching. Plus his dick was now aching from how hard he was. 

He was brought back to your image as you knelt on the bed, your hands dancing along your nearly naked body. The lighting had changed slightly, becoming slightly darker and more sensual as you prepared to go further into your show. After about a minute of you teasing the audience, waiting for everyone to join back in. ‘It’s so lovely to see so many of you interested in little ol’ me. Well… really I guess you’re actually more interested in this pretty little pussy aren’t you?’ You gripped your cunt over the thin material of your panties and slowly gyrated your hips as you rubbed yourself. ‘Don’t you worry Baby. I’m gonna give you exactly what you want.’ 

Jensen let out a soft gasp as you barred yourself to the camera. He definitely had to admit you really did have a very pretty little pussy. Even from the angle of the camera he could see your slick as it dripped out onto your thighs. His cock was pulsing against his stomach, firm and flushed with precum dribbling down from the tip. He was so hard he couldn’t bear being untouched anymore so he gingerly eased himself into the little hole of his fleshlight, wishing it was you. 

He was so sensitive and the warmed silicone was almost too much as it contracted, pulling him in even further. His eyes were glued to you as you moved on the bed, leaning back so that the camera had a clear shot of your fingers swirling around in your slick, rubbing your precious little clit as you let out moan after moan and Jensen turning his volume up to the max, not wanting to miss a single sound coming from you. 

Jensen had never felt this desperate to cum. He was so close to typing a message to you, begging you to cum for him so he could too. He refused to do it before he got to see the pleasure course its way over your body, but the familiar tightening in his gut had a different idea in mind. 

He watched enamoured as you slipped one finger into your wet hole, and then another one, scissoring them together while your palm brushed against your clit. You were a heavenly sight as you fingered yourself harder and faster and Jensen was right on the edge about to let his own release overpower him. He was so freaking close, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the toy desperately but suddenly, your image was gone. 

And just like that, so was Jensen’s orgasm. 

He huffed as he approved the next paywall. It was slightly more expensive than the first but Jensen didn’t even pay attention to the price, he needed to see you again too badly. 

When the stream resumed you were once again kneeling on the bed, this time with a cute little rabbit in your hands. You were lathering it up with lube, pumping it generously and Jensen twitched in excitement. He wanted to see your perfectly manicured hand wrapped around him. 

You pouted towards the camera as you continued your work, pushing out your plump lips. ‘I wish you were here so I could have your cock but instead I guess I’ll have to settle for this one.’ Jensen could hear the faint squelch when you sank down onto the bulbous tip.  Only the small flared base poked out and you smiled rakishly at the camera. 

‘Tell me Baby. Do you wanna see me fuck myself like this or are you gonna let me turn on the vibrations?’ Jensen eagerly reached for the keyboard, typing his first message of the night. 

Of course you can Honey. I wanna see you come apart for me.

He hit send before he could see anyone else's messages. He wanted to pretend it was only you and him in this show. 

You must have read his message on your small tablet because a smile lit up your features. ‘Thank you Baby. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. I’m already so close.’ 

The soft hum of vibrations echoed through Jensen’s speakers and even louder were your moans as they fell from your lips. Jensen slid the fleshlight over his cock in time with your bounces and if he squinted he could almost pretend you were right there in front of him, bouncing up and down on his cock. H

He could tell you were close as you reached up to grasp your tits. ‘I’m gonna… please. Please let me cum Baby. God I need to. Please!’ You begged the camera and a string of approval filled the chat. ‘Thank you Baby. I -’ your sentence broke off half way through as your orgasm washed over you. Jensen could see your muscles tense and convulse as the pleasure rushed its way through you and he felt his own orgasm crash over him. His breath came in spurts as he filled the toy with his seed. 

You stuck around a little longer, thanking your patrons and reminding them of your times and Jensen made a little mental note, promising that he wouldn’t miss any of them. 

+

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[mrs-march-ahs]

How would the evans react to the reader being insecure? thank you😊

What Would The Evans Do If You Were Insecure

My 300 follower special gave me so many requests! They are all incredible and I am trying to do as many as possible! I may not do them all, but all of your requests were incredible thank you for helping me celebrate this amazing achievement :) This is for @tatestripedsweater and anybody else who (for some reason) doesn’t feel like a work of art today, this is an Evan Peters reminder that you are a gift to this world and I love you.

Enjoy:)

----

Tate

-Would definitely check for self-harm marks -If they were there, he would kiss them or lick the blood off them if they were fresh -Hold you while you cry -Would carefully listen to your insecurities and would try to tell you how beautiful you are to him -It wouldn’t matter how much you hated yourself or how much you felt like the world hated you because to him you were perfect and you always will be -Kiss your tears away -Suggest cuddling or watching a horror film so you can sit between his legs and he can wrap his arms around you to protect you

Kit

-You wouldn’t tell him you felt insecure, but he would be able to tell - “I’m not sure I’m doing the best I can” - “You’re the best wife, the best mother, the best person I’ve ever met, you’re everything we want and need and so much more” -Would carefully whisper everything to do, and would touch you ever so softly -Constantly tucking your hair behind your ear as he listened to you -Kiss your tears away -If you started explaining something in a panicky way, looking down, eyes filled with tears, then he would cup your cheeks in his firm hands and would put his thumb over your lips to shush you, then wipe your tears -Constantly hold you and place little kisses everywhere - “Isn’t mama the most beautiful lady alive?” -The kids would learn by example and would start giving you and each other compliments - “I love the way you can bake so well mama” -Kids are brutally honest so when they tell you you’re pretty, you legally cannot be insecure

Franken Kyle

-He would come up behind you and put his hands on your stomach, and when he squeezed it, you’d get pissed -Push his hands away and he would get the message -But later that day when he was spooning you and put his hand on your stomach again, you pushed his hands away and tried to explain that you didn’t want him touching it, which would make him sad -He would constantly be trying to squish your stomach or your thighs and you’d hate it -Until one day you couldn’t handle it anymore and snapped - “I constantly have to take your hands off me, what is your obsession with my fat? Can’t you tell it upsets me when you touch it?” -He would be really upset but also incredibly confused how you can not love it - “I love… tummy” - “Well I don’t, so stop touching it, please” -He would be upset but nod, until later than day in bed he would beg you to feel it - “I wanna… squish… please” -No Kyle, you would insist, because you felt like even though he didn’t know what he was doing, he was reminding you of your insecurities and flaws - “I love… so much”, he would say, laying his head on the bottom of your tummy and putting his arms around your thighs -You couldn’t help but run your fingers through his hair and understand that he can’t comprehend why you’d be insecure about something so soft and squishable -If a man not burdened by society’s rules and regulations loved you so much, why did you worry about the way you looked?

Jimmy

- “What do you have to be insecure about doll?” -Make sweet love to you -Kiss every inch of your body for days after your sad conversation -He would run you a big bubble bath and insist to wash you - “I’m not a child Jimmy, I can wash myself” - “Shhh just let Daddy take care of his princess” -It would make you blush and you would hesitantly let him run the sponge all around your body -The softness in his touch would give you shivers -He’d let you relax for a little bit but stay in the room to make sure you don’t cry -Might even carry you to the bed -Would insist on putting lotion on you -He would kiss every inch of your body as he rubbed the cream in - “You know what I love about you? You don’t care what people think, that’s why you’re okay being out with a freak like me in public” - “Jimmy I don’t care about your hands, I love you the way you are” - “Ironic, ain’t it babe?” -He’d laugh against your skin as he kissed you and it’d give you goosebumps -He’d start kissing your neck whispering compliments in your ear about how good you are at certain things and how gorgeous you are doing certain things - “Want Jimmy to cheer you up? The Jimmy method?” -If you need cheering up with a Jimmy smut, click the link here.

James

-Would be genuinely confused -Can’t comprehend that somebody as incredible and beautiful as you could be insecure ­- “I just feel so ugly” - “But you are fully aware, that you are not, right dear?” -Would buy you lots of new outfits and dresses to make you feel better -Would convince you to try them on for him and would tell you how immaculate you look in all of them - “Printed fonts aren’t as beautiful as true calligraphy, wouldn’t you agree?”. You hesitantly nod, unsure of what the link is to the current conversation you’re having. “It’s the imperfections… the little man-made details are what elevate an art piece, to a piece of art”, he explains, sliding his finger down the stretch mark on your thigh. - “The stories that your body tells darling… and you would prefer to have plain porcelain skin”, he says, almost mumbling, and clicks his tongue a couple times. -Incredible eye contact as he told you how beautiful you are -These headcannons closely link to the ones I wrote about the Evans cheering you up, if you want more detail on this James scenario, click here.

Kai

-If his softer side didn’t come out, he’d act like you’re stupid - “And how exactly is crying going to solve your issues?” - “Insecurities are what make you weak, it’s easier to manipulate you when you show your soft spots” -But if, somehow, his soft side did show, he would be a lot sweeter -You’d be curled up in bed sobbing your heart out -And he would come up and sit on the edge of the bed quietly, and listen to you cry for a bit, waiting for you to notice that he’s there -When you noticed you’d nervously ramble about how insecure you are and he’d tell you to stfu - “You don’t fit the cookie cutter? You make your own fucking cookies” - “Stop worrying. From now on, you walk like you are a gift to this world” - “If somebody questions your confidence, you show them why they’re wrong and you’re right” -He wouldn’t even realise how sweet the tough love was

Mrs March Ahs

-That’s me -I’d sit and listen carefully to you rambling about how insecure you are -I’d nod as I listen so you know I’m savouring every word and take in everything you’re saying -Let you rest your head on my big ol’ boobies as I stroke your head -You’d be automatically relaxed from sniffing me -I usually smell like oranges -I don’t eat them I just have a perfume that smells like oranges -Before you know it you’re drifting off to sleep forgetting about your insecurities as I sing one direction songs to you -Give you 143 compliments a day

[homoose]

Through the Smoke

Request: could you do spencer x bau reader where they aren't dating yet but they both feel for each other? where both spencer and reader are very closed off people and the whole team knows that. but after one rough case on the flight back, they're both just exhausted mentally and physically and seek comfort in each other. then spend the night at reader's apartment and kiss for the first time there. sorry if this is specific but thank you (:

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst with a happy ending

Warnings/Includes: typical CM stuff, cults, kidnapping, violence, etc.

Word count: 8.1k

Music recs: Through the Fire by Jake Etheridge and Margot Todd; scared by Jeremy Zucker

a/n: anon, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for, but this is where it went. It’s a generous rewrite of 300, substituting the reader for Garcia. Also this blog operates with the understanding that the season 14 jeid arc does not exist lmao. JJ is firmly in the “I love you as a brother” camp and I will not be taking questions at this time. Also, this is a reminder that my requests are open! send me some fresh ideas, head cannons, rambles, whatever! 

———

“Metro PD and the Bureau have been made aware of the Believers and possible activity following their leader’s arrest,” Prentiss confirmed, looking out over the team mingling in the bullpen. “But taking Theo at his word—”

“We only arrested three. There’s probably more out there, but if they follow cult dynamics, they’ll break down on their own without the messiah,” Matt finished.

“Typical cults: you think it’s a cast of thousands when really it’s just four whackos sitting around in the dark,” Tara mused.

Prentiss smiled. “I think we deserve some decompression time, and Rossi’s kind enough to host.”

Rossi leaned over the railing and nodded. “And I have some top shelf wine picked just for the occasion.”

The team started gathering their belongings and heading towards the elevators. Y/N hesitated, looking toward the case file still sitting on her desk. Something about how this had all wrapped up just… didn’t sit right. Her nearly five years with the Critical Incident Response Group had given her an up close view of some of the most prolific cults in American history. She’d studied Jonestown, Waco, Ruby Ridge, Liberty Ranch; new cults emerged onto CIRG’s radar regularly. And there was something about The Believers that just didn’t add up.

Y/N began shuffling things around on her desk, trying to look busy. She caught Spencer and JJ out of the corner of her eye, talking quietly. They ended their conversation with a hug, lingering just a little longer than Y/N would have preferred. She shook her head to try to physically clear the thought from her brain. She knew that Spencer had been through a lifetime’s worth of trauma before she joined the team, and that JJ had been an integral support for him. Y/N was also aware that she had zero grounds to be concerned with any of Spencer’s relationships, romantic or otherwise.

“Y/N, you coming?” JJ asked, walking toward her desk. Spencer headed out of the bullpen and down the hall.

Y/N gave her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit. Just wanted to finish up a couple things here.”

“Well, don’t stay too late.” JJ pressed her lips together for a moment before adding, “Maybe you and Spence could drive together. He said he might not make it, but if he had some company...”

Y/N hoped her immediate flush wasn’t too obvious. After nearly a year in the unit, she finally felt like she had built some solid relationships with the team, and Spencer was no exception. She relished their card games on the jet, the laughs over too-sweet coffee, discussions about books and films and music. But she also adored the way his hair sometimes curled and fell into his eyes, his animated and rambling tangents, the way his hands traced over the tiny print of his books. Most of her adult life had been spent surrounded by men who would gather up her trust in their pitted hands and crush it on a whim. She’d kept her heart behind glass for a long while, but Spencer was slowly chipping away at the fragile panels. She was certain he had no idea that he was even holding the chisel; but just about everyone else seemed to have figured it out. JJ, with her hands clasped together and an eager smile, definitely had. Y/N smiled, too. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“So we’ll see you in a bit?” When Y/N nodded, JJ gave her a warm smile and headed out.

Turning back to the case file, Y/N pressed her fingers to her temple and looked over the documents. Some of the pieces fit together, but the whole case felt littered with gaps and holes. The tale that Theo had woven about The Believers seemed true enough— his parents were simply the suppliers of potential cult members. Although, she still couldn’t figure out the reason for the kidnapping and torture. There were much easier ways to recruit vulnerable people.

She flipped past the pages of written statements and read over the report from the warehouse raid. It was short— the take down of Merva was too easy. Why was he sitting alone in an empty warehouse with only two unarmed, sleeping followers as a defense? Where was the rest of the cult? Matt was correct that most cults fall apart without their leader; unless the loss of a leader was a possibility they’d already prepared for.

The burns on Quinn’s hands didn’t make sense, either. Why use the initiation ritual as a torture device? Shouldn’t that be saved for people who had accepted the invitation? And then there was the one coincidence that nagged at her the most: what were the chances that Theo just happened to be enrolled in Spencer's course? Why did Spencer seem to be at the center of the whole thing?

Y/N sighed as her phone lit up with a message from JJ. She realized she’d been poring over the file for twenty-five minutes, and she had to laugh. As the least experienced profiler on the team, what could she possibly see that the others hadn’t? She closed the case file and quickly packed up, grabbing her jacket and bag and making her way toward the elevator lobby. She paused at the glass doors, retrieving her phone and pulling up Spencer’s contact information. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment before she huffed out a breath. If even JJ hadn’t been able to convince him to go, there was no way she’d be able to change his mind. Despite herself, she glanced down the hall, allowing herself one moment to imagine an alternate timeline where she asked him to come along with her— to Rossi’s, to the moon, anywhere.

With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the glass doors and saw Agent Meadows leading Quinn to the elevator. She pushed down the little red flag in the back of her mind. As she stepped onto the elevator, she smiled politely at the two agents.

“I knew you didn’t do it. I just knew,” Meadows said to Quinn. She turned to Y/N. “And I can’t tell you what a privilege it’s been working with the A-Team on this case.”

Something about the calm in her voice made Y/N uneasy. “Yeah, it’s— um. It’s a great team to be a part of.” Her phone lit up again, this time with a phone call from JJ. “Okay, okay,” she muttered under her breath. Y/N answered the call, half an ear still listening to Meadows speak to Quinn. “Hey, I’m just leaving now.”

“Are you still at the BAU?” JJ demanded, voice low.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. But I’m in the elevator,” Y/N answered.

“Listen, we’re pretty sure Quinn was converted,” JJ told her. Y/N’s heart dropped into her shoes. “I need you to make sure he doesn’t leave that building. We’re coming back now. Where’s Spence?”

Y/N took a breath to try to even out her voice before speaking again. “Mom, we already talked about this. I don’t know.”

JJ paused. “Is Quinn in the elevator with you?”

“Yep.” JJ spoke quietly to someone on the other end of the phone. Y/N watched as the elevator dinged to the floor of the parking garage. “I’m going to have to hang up, mom. I’m gonna lose you, but I’ll try to take care of it tonight, okay?”

“Y/N, we’re on our—” The call dropped as the elevator hit the basement level.

Y/N took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Ugh, lost her.” She glanced at Meadows and Quinn, forced a smile and shrugged. “Elevators, right?”

The elevator doors began to open and Y/N stepped out, surreptitiously reaching for her holster. She had just lifted the strap when she heard the crack of metal hitting bone. Her face hit the concrete before she realized it was her own skull that bore the impact. She watched as her gun skidded across the parking lot floor, the taste of iron flooding her mouth. “Fuck,” she muttered, wincing in pain and scrambling up off the ground as a gunshot went off.

She didn’t feel the impact of the bullet. She looked down at her body, expecting to see a blooming rose of blood. She stared dumbly for a second too long, before remembering that she needed to get to her gun. Her hand instinctively went to her nose as she stumbled forward, coming away wet with blood.

“Stop, Agent Y/L/N.”

She heard the sound of a gun cocking, and then another. She closed her eyes and ran through an internal stream of curses. Raising her hands up, she turned slowly around. An older white man stood to her left, his gun trained on her. Meadows walked slowly towards her, lowering her own weapon. Quinn leaned against the back of the elevator, clutching his abdomen and blood staining the front of his shirt.

“Surprise,” Meadows sang, a sick smile spreading across her face. She stopped in front of Y/N, sweeping her hand in the direction of the man. “Now, John’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Get in the car.”

Y/N glanced in the direction of the vehicle, a dark sedan, driver armed to the teeth as well. “The team knows something’s up. You won’t make it out of this garage alive.”

Meadows laughed, loud and unhinged. “Oh honey. They’re not looking for lil ol’ me. And they sure as hell won’t be looking for an ambulance.” Her smile returned. “Plus, I already erased 299 murders from the Bureau’s radar. What’s a couple more? Now, shut up... and get in the car.”

Y/N moved to the open car door, keeping her back as straight as possible and her chin up, refusing to show them any cowardice. The barrel of the gun jabbed her in the back as she lowered herself into the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and in a moment, the gun was back on her, the man sitting next to her in the backseat. Y/N waited for the car to pull out, still trying to make sense of it all. Meadows was a Believer? What did she mean by “erased” 299 murders? Why would she blow her cover to shoot Quinn? Did she think that he had figured her out? Or that Y/N had? If that was the case, why not just shoot her? Why wasn’t the car moving?

“Drop your gun, Agent Reid,” Meadows’ muffled voice penetrated the inside of the vehicle. Y/N’s heart began to race. John dug the gun further into her side.

“It’s been you the whole time,” Spencer deduced.

“Yes, it was. Quinn somehow figured it out first. Pity having to shoot him,” Meadows mocked. “But he can’t give me what I want. And you can.”

“What’s that?” Y/N’s brain scrambled to put the pieces together as she listened to the exchange. Spencer was at the heart of it after all. It was right there, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Meadows continued, “You and I are going to go upstairs and free my Messiah.”

“You’re in the heart of the FBI. As soon as the rest of my team figures out it’s you, you’ll be dead before you’re out the door.” Y/N hoped to god that he was right.

“Then we need to work quickly.”

“I’m not going to cooperate with you,” Spencer told her. “Might as well shoot me.” Y/N didn’t even have time to panic before the car shifted into drive.

“I have a better idea.” On Meadows’ cue, the driver squealed out of the parking space and into Spencer’s line of sight. His eyes fell on Y/N, hands nearly pressed against the window, John’s gun pointed at her head. “Now, what’s it gonna be? Because you can either join us, or she dies.”

Y/N tried to radiate her rage through her eyes and screamed, “Reid, just shoot her! Shoot her!” The last thing she saw before the second crack of steel against her skull was the hesitation in Spencer’s eyes.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned at the pounding of her head, the rhythm of her heartbeat throbbing in the space behind her ears. She tried to lift her hand to check for blood, only to strain against the hold of a zip tie attached to the base of the chair. Instead, she surveyed the room around her. A warehouse, lots of shipping containers, and even more men— this time armed with assault rifles and machine guns. One stood at the entrance point of the small area she was being kept in.

She worked through her memory, putting the pieces together. Meadows was a Believer, had been for quite some time to pull all of this off. Quinn wasn’t special, he just got in the way of her real target. Ben Merva might have been the messiah, but Spencer Reid was clearly just as important to whatever mission they were carrying out. Every twisting thread of information somehow traced back to him: Theo in his class, Quinn’s attachment to him, Meadows’ demand that he be the one to free Merva.

“Good, you’re awake.” Meadows strode through the space with a laptop in hand. “I need your handiwork.”

Y/N stared at her. “Is that so?’

Meadows set the laptop on the barrel in front of Y/N and then leaned down to cut the zip tie. “Besides being my collateral for the good doctor, you’re also going to help me access CIRG’s surveillance data.”

“Fuck you.” Y/N spat on Meadows’ shoes. “I’m doing nothing for you.” Her head rolled back, eyes piercing daggers into Meadows. “You should just kill me now, because this is a waste of your time. And I’m sure you know the A-Team isn’t going to waste theirs.”

Meadows narrowed her eyes and gave a theatrical sigh. “I should’ve known you’d make this difficult.” She nodded to John, standing at the entranceway.

Y/N spat again, this time to rid her mouth of the taste of blood. She steeled herself for the next onslaught, compartmentalizing every emotion outside of her fury. Her mind raced to salvage and scrutinize the memories from her time in CIRG, trying desperately to identify what Meadows could be looking for in the surveillance reports. The Believers hadn’t even been on the Bureau’s radar. The reason had to be linked to their interest in Spencer… a piece of information that involved both Spencer Reid and the existing surveillance data. A single grain that could bring the whole damn bushel down.

She heard a scuffle at the entrance of the room and raised her head. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Spencer, bloodied and bruised. John dragged him into the room, throwing him down onto his knees in front of Y/N. His eyes tracked over her face and clouded over with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“Shit, Reid—”

“I’m fine—I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he murmured. The concern in his eyes told Y/N she looked about as bad as she felt. “Are you all right?”

“I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known—”

“No,” Spencer interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. We all missed it.”

“What’s the end game here?” Y/N asked. “What’re they doing?”

“I’m going to be their last victim.” Spencer shook his head, barely able to keep himself upright. “I don’t know why, but I overheard them. There have been hundreds.”

Meadows stepped up behind Spencer, grinning at Y/N. “Have you changed your mind? I sure hope you have.” She raised her gun to his head. “Because if you don’t do what I want, I’ll blow his big, beautiful brains out.”

Spencer locked eyes with Y/N. She held his gaze for a moment, then tilted her head slightly as the gears started turning. The tie between Spencer and Benjamin was where it all unraveled. “No, I don’t think you will.”

Meadows’ grin faltered for less than a second, but it was long enough that Y/N knew she was right. “Is that right?” Meadows questioned.

“Yeah, it is.” She furrowed her brow, and Spencer looked at her. “You need him, don’t you? Alive.” Meadows’ tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Y/N was sure. “Because this isn’t just about Benjamin Merva. It’s about Benjamin Cyrus. It’s about Liberty Ranch.”

Meadows held her gaze for five seconds, then ten seconds. Y/N raised her chin, refusing to be the one to blink first. Meadows shifted the trajectory of her gun a foot to her right and fired off one shot. The breeze from the bullet shifted Y/N’s hair.

“You have two minutes to decide,” Meadows advised. The phone in her hand began ringing. “The next one won’t miss.” She answered the phone and stepped out.

Spencer spoke quickly. “Do whatever she’s asking. We have to get you out of here.”

“Reid, are your eyes broken?” Y/N snapped. “There’s a cult loyalist with a machine gun every five feet. You got a plan for that?”

“Listen to me.” His voice was calm, determined. “You’re right about them wanting me alive.”

The frustration bled through Y/N’s voice. “You should have just shot her.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“You could’ve shot all three of them and ended this in the garage,” Y/N argued.

“And then I would have watched you die,” he said quietly. “That was never even an option.”

“I’m failing to see how that would have been any worse than this. Look at us.” She gestured wildly between them. She watched as the storm of emotion returned, a cyclone swirling in seas of gold and brown. “The team needs you. Spencer, I—” I need you. She reached a hand up, almost touching his face before dropping it back in her lap. He had found the chink in her carefully constructed armor; a fissure he’d fractured a little further with every smile, every look, every moment. All at once she knew she’d never be able to keep him out, no matter how much it might hurt.

“You’ve got one minute,” Meadows barked, hovering over them.

“Y/L/N, listen to me… Please...” Spencer’s voice was thick with tears. “Tell my mom—” The phone rang again, and Meadows stepped away to answer it. Spencer dropped to a whisper. His eyes flashed with urgency. “They’re taking me and Theo. We’ll distract them. The car we were in is right outside the door. We’re 18 minutes from Quantico. Turn left outside the parking lot, take a right at the light, you’ll recognize the rest. They stay off the highways.”

Y/N’s voice was frantic when she asked, “What about you?”

His eyes pleaded with her to respect what he was asking her to do. “I’ll delay them. Get the rest of the team back here. And do not worry about me.” John hauled up him off the floor.

“Time’s up.” Meadows, in a rare display of mercy, allowed them a hug.

Spencer leaned into her and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed as hard as she could and whispered his name. She felt him take a deep breath into her hair, holding it for one impossibly long moment. Just before she released her hold on him, he mumbled, “It’s all happening. 10:23.” John dragged him back out the way they’d came.

“I gave you what you wanted.” Meadows ordered, “Get to it. Now.”

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N worked and waited, then watched and worried. Spencer spoke to Meadows. He was stalling her, offering a deal, boosting her ego, granting Y/N the opportunity to mentally prepare. But no matter how much time he gave her, she would never be prepared to leave him in that warehouse. He met her eyes across the movements of the operation and gave her an imperceptible nod before lunging forward to reach for John’s gun.

Chaos exploded throughout the warehouse. Theo ran in one direction, accosted by half a dozen Believers. Spencer and John tussled over the gun, one fighting for control and the other fighting the inevitable. Y/N sprinted, largely unnoticed, toward the huge sliding doors left slightly ajar. Bursting out into the night air, she immediately spotted one of the black sedans, unbelievably unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. She slammed the door behind her, turned the key, hesitated with her eyes on the door and her mind on Spencer for one moment too long. A single gunshot sounded from inside the warehouse.

Meadows raced out of the doorway, gun drawn. “Stop!” She pointed her gun at Y/N and there was nothing to do but step on the gas. Y/N had her eyes wide open as Meadows bounced off the windshield and onto the asphalt. She didn’t look back.

She drove. Left out of the parking lot. Just a dark, rural road—nothing particularly special or descript. She drove. Right at the stoplight. Then it was, just as Spencer said, familiar terrain. She wondered how it was possible to have seemed so far away— a world away— when it was right under their proverbial nose. She drove.

Her brain navigated of its own volition. Her mind couldn’t have been farther from the inside of the vehicle. She didn’t realize she’d arrived at the Bureau until she was attempting to pull into her usual parking spot, only to be met with her own abandoned car.

She turned the car off, left the keys in the ignition, and nearly floated out into the garage; up the elevator; across the cold floors of the lobby. Her body had walked this same path so many times before; it carried her without hesitation. She could hear the voices of the team, drifting through the open glass doors.

“She accepted their help knowing she would betray the government,” Tara deduced.

“Not every survivor wanted help,” JJ clarified.

Rossi continued, “We ran those who left the ranch and kept their names. A few relocated in rural Maryland and Virginia.”

“They could be helping now,” Luke suggested. “Any of them have large pieces of property?”

“A few,” Emily confirmed. Y/N turned the corner as she continued, “The Washington field office has started searches in Maryland. We’ll take the lead in Virginia.”

As she moved into the doorway, JJ’s eyes went wide and she rushed to Y/N’s side. “Oh my god, are you hurt?” She gently grabbed Y/N by the shoulders.

“It’s a warehouse in Hillcrest,” Y/N said flatly, eyes unfocused. “I can take you there, but we have to hurry. They hurt Reid; he looked— bad. He told me to r-run and take the car, but he’s still there.” Everyone headed for the doors except JJ and Garcia. “They won’t be there long, they have lots of trucks.” Y/N’s eyes locked on JJ, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, she allowed herself to splinter, just a little. “I heard a gunshot. JJ, I heard a gunshot. I tried—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” JJ nodded, drawing her into a hug. “I know. I know you tr—”

“I left him there.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not yet. “I couldn’t get him. There was no way to save hi—”

“Stop,” JJ ordered, pulling out of the hug. “Y/N, look at me. You got out, you got back to us. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t even know about the warehouse.”

“What if— what if I got him killed?” Y/N asked.

“You didn’t get anyone killed. Spence knew what he was doing.” JJ’s voice softened. “That’s what he does. He always figures things out before the rest of us. He has a plan and getting you back to Quantico was part of it.” She raised her eyebrows, making sure Y/N was listening. “And now we have to help him by putting the rest of it together.”

Y/N ran a hand over her face. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

Garcia stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we’ll get Reid back.”

They cleaned the blood from her face and hair as best they could in the bathroom sink. JJ patched up the lacerations with steri-strips. Back in the conference room, Garcia insisted she should get screened for a concussion as Y/N rubbed the knot on the back of her head. “There’s no time. Reid said, ‘It’s all happening. 10:23.’”

“But it’s past that,” JJ considered.

“So what did he mean?” Garcia asked.

“Could be a clue here.” Rossi's voice came over the speakerphone from inside the warehouse. “They got sloppy since they left in a hurry.”

“Okay, well you can’t be that far behind them,” JJ insisted.

“I know,” Emily agreed. “But there’s easy access to three major highways, and we don’t know which way they went.”

“Right, but they’re in tractor trailers. That means we can track them through weigh stations.”

“Garcia?” Emily prompted.

“In order to do that, I’d need the transponder identification numbers,” Garcia answered.

“Which we have no way of knowing,” Rossi sighed. “Everything they used was almost definitely forged.”

“We’re going to do another sweep here, and then we’ll head back,” Emily said. “Try to map out the most likely routes they’d use to get out of dodge.”

JJ hung up and looked to Y/N. “What do you remember about the warehouse?”

Y/N pressed her fingers into her temples. “It was full of supplies. They were disguising them, but they had stockpiles of weapons and ammunition; non-perishables and other food items; water. Enough to be off the grid for at least a year.” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “But it wasn’t just about The Believers. I mean, we know they’re a reincarnation of the Separatarian Sect.” She looked at JJ and Garcia. “It was more than that, though. Reid was at the center of everything; he was the target all along. Merva is the messiah, but it somehow all comes back to Spence.”

“Makes sense. They blame him for the downfall of the Sect,” JJ supplied.

“Yeah.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “But—and I can’t—I can’t really explain it, but Meadows really wanted to kill Reid right then. She was— she was irritated, more than anything else.”

“So what stopped her?” Garcia asked.

“That’s what I can’t figure out. She threatened me with it, with ‘blowing his brains out,’ but I— called her bluff. And she was pissed.” Y/N rapped her knuckles on the table. “I mean, really, really furious. Which tells me that, even though she wanted to,  she couldn’t kill him.” She looked between the two of them. “Merva was pulling the strings, and he wouldn’t let her do it there.”

“So it matters where the final sacrifice takes place,” JJ concluded. “We’ve got to figure out where they’re going.”

⧭⧭⧭

They’d been rehashing the details over and over. Liberty Ranch, The Strangler investigation, The Believers, Meadows, Merva, Cyrus, 300 victims, the hyoid bones, all of it. About the only thing they knew for sure was how far the cult could get in the trucks. Spencer could have told them the exact square mileage, but the potential geographical range of the trucks was dauntingly large. Y/N tried not to panic as she stared at the map.

“If this is about a Believer's rebirth, babies are born with 300 bones,” JJ said. “And they’re taking the hyoids.”

“And the hyoids we had in evidence are missing, which means Merva needed them back,” Tara reasoned. “And that means they mean more to the end game than we thought.”

Y/N felt her patience waning. “But why did Reid need us to know it all happens at 10:23?” Y/N hated that her voice sounded snappy and desperate. “That’s got to be important. It’s the last thing he said to me.”

Matt put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you’re right. It means something to him. We’re trying to figure it out.”

“Yeah, well, we better figure it out soon.” Y/N shrugged off his hand, pushed back from her seat at the conference room table, and turned for the door. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Every minute they spent floating ideas was another mile between them and Spencer. Another moment closer to losing him. She shoved the bathroom door open, hurrying into the stall and emptying the contents of her stomach.

She slumped back against the side of the stall, head gently knocking into the cool metal. She needed to pull herself together. The team was always strongest when they did their group think sessions, building upon each other’s knowledge and perspectives and filling in the gaps. If they’d done more of that earlier— if she’d had the confidence to call it out as soon as she saw the holes, Spencer might not be locked in the back of a truck, hundreds of miles away.

Y/N hoisted herself off the ground and out of the stall. She braced her hands on the counter top and tried to breathe evenly. She turned on the water and splashed her face, tapping against her cheeks. With water dripping down the planes of her face, she stared herself down in the mirror, willing her tired brain to make that last connection, to find that missing thread. It was all about the Benjamins, and she had a feeling that Cyrus was the key.

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and made her way to the conference room. She listened to their rotating conversation, knowing that this team was the only group of people capable of getting Spencer back alive.

“We have confirmation that there’s been no activity in or around the old ranch,” Matt informed them, pocketing his phone.

“If this is about rebirth, they’ll choose a new place,” Luke posited, arms crossed.

Tara leaned over the table. “Given their adoration of Cyrus and his love for the country, he’d want them to stay within our borders.”

“But Benjamin Cyrus wasn’t his real name, and he wasn’t born into the Sect,” Y/N reminded them quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. She gave an apology grimace to Matt. He just shrugged and smiled, motioning her over to the table.

Garcia nodded. “Right, let’s see. Uh, he and his mom arrived there when he was a teenager. He was kicked out for molesting girls. And then he served time in prison in Kentucky.”

“And that’s where he found religion,” Y/N recalled, thinking back to the report she’d studied dozens of times. “So he was reborn as Benjamin Cyrus in Kentucky.” She closed her eyes and flipped through her mental file cabinet, looking for 10:23.

“That’s within the area,” Garcia confirmed. “Maybe that’s where they’re headed?”

“Find out what city he was born in or where he was in prison,” Luke said. “We’ll spread out from there.”

“He found religion,” Y/N repeated, mostly to herself. “Chapter ten, verse twenty-three. 10:23 isn’t a time.” Y/N shook her head and then dragged her hand through her hair. “It’s scripture.”

“Let’s get in the air; we can narrow down which verse and city before we land,” Emily instructed.

⧭⧭⧭

“We’re approaching Kentucky; the pilot needs to know where to touch down,” Rossi informed them.

The team was scattered throughout the jet, scrolling through scripture on their tablets, reading out verses. Y/N held her chin in her hand, eyes unfocused, dragging a net along the furthest corners of her mind.

“Hey guys, listen to this,” JJ said. “Matthew chapter ten, verse twenty-three: ‘When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.’”

“They’re going to the next town,” Emily said.

“Flee to the next town. But which one?” asked Garcia.

“Their end game is also a new beginning,” Rossi explained. “Cyrus brought religion back to the cult. They’d honor that by wanting to start fresh.”

Y/N raised her head. “Like the Garden of Eden.”

“That’s how 300 fits,” Tara concluded. “That was the number of angels that protected the Garden of Eden. Are there any Edens in Kentucky?”

The sound of Garcia tapping across the keyboard came through the laptop. “Um, no, but there are two synonyms: Canaan and Arcadia.”

“Cyrus is the original messiah. Which one is closer to where he was born?” Y/N asked.

“Arcadia,” Garcia informed them.

Y/N stood up. “That’s where they’re going.”

“Garcia, pull land deeds. I’ll notify SWAT,” Emily instructed.

JJ grabbed Y/N’s hand. “We’re going to get him.”

Y/N met her eyes. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

⧭⧭⧭

The new compound proved easy to find. In the middle of nowhere but illuminated by hundreds of lights, there were rows and rows of tents. The team began strategizing, looking for the best route to Spencer.

Emily tried to convince Y/N, now showing clear concussion symptoms, to stay with the SUVs.

“With all due respect, there is no way in hell that I’m going to sit in this car while Reid gets sacrificed by a homicidal cult leader,” Y/N said. There was a hushed pause, the team exchanging knowing glances.

“Fair enough,” Emily conceded. “Matt and JJ, I want you on the left side. Luke and Tara, the right. Dave and Y/N, you’re with me. We’re clearing every tent; eliminate any threat that would give away your position.” She unholstered her gun and swept her eyes across the team. “Our objective is to extract Reid with minimal loss.”

As they approached the first line of tents, Y/N could faintly hear Spencer speaking. “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “A time to be born and a time to die.” She could feel the blood rushing through her ears. “A time to weep and a time to pluck up that which has been planted.”

“Okay, he’s stalling,” Meadows snapped. “That’s enough!”

“All right. Let the sacrifice begin.” That was Merva now, riling up the followers. “Protect us from all harm.”

As Merva led The Believers in a monotone chant, Y/N tried to block it out. She scanned a tent, watched as SWAT took out a bodyguard, looked for Spencer. Rinse and repeat, again and again. It was taking too long.

“And we thank Our Guardian, who will protect this family now and always,” Merva’s voice rang out. “Spencer: keeper of provisions!” Y/N saw the gathering of followers, but she couldn’t see Spencer.

The SWAT commander stopped them. They had reached the final line of tents. He signaled to the leaders on each side. They were ready to strike.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd. She could just barely make out some sort of hanging mobile, white u-shaped decorations suspended from string. The hyoids, she realized, a wave of nausea hitting her like a truck.

Merva continued, “You have given selflessly to others and will be rewarded by the highest honor we could bestow. Your blood will be our blood. Your life will fuel ours.”

A gunshot rang out. The followers gasped. There was a split second of calm before the bedlam. Y/N took a single breath. Then she heard Matt yell; saw John lift his rifle and be felled by a solo shot to the head; watched Luke take down another bodyguard directly after.

And then she saw him. Strapped down under a canopy of bones, Spencer was silent and unmoving. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t call out. And there was Merva, knife in hand— still trying to complete his mission.

She didn’t vacillate, barely breathed, just let her legs carry her forward. She heard Emily call out his name. When Merva turned, the curved blade of the knife poised at the column of Spencer's throat, Y/N’s trigger finger compressed. She felt the gun recoil, felt the force of the shot travel up her arm as she put a single bullet in his chest. As he fell, she didn’t stop, just stepped over him, knew one of the others would take care of it.

She tripped over the small platform Spencer was restrained on, stumbling and holstering her gun. Her hands moved over the straps, loosening the one over his waist, then the ones at his hands, finally pushing the leather from his head. He panted and muttered his thanks, but she didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to stop. Instead, she flung her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down and close and over her heart. She wondered if he could feel the way it pummeled against her chest, because to her it felt like it might smash through at any moment. His arms came around her, chin resting on her shoulder, nose in her hair. She heard him inhale and hold his breath, a mirror of that last moment together in the warehouse. She held onto him as an overboard sailor holds a life ring: single-minded, unrelenting, desperate.

There was a touch on her opposite shoulder and Y/N swung around, adrenaline still racing through her veins. JJ put her hand out in a placating motion, and Y/N came back to herself, allowing JJ to step forward and help Spencer off the platform. Y/N let out a breath and reached a hand out to steady herself, only to flinch when it brushed one of the straps that had held Spencer down. Luke caught her on one side, Tara on the other. She grasped at them, her emotions teetering right along with her physical form. Luke pulled her out from under the macabre canopy and into a hug. Tara held her hand. For the first time since the parking garage, she let herself go.

⧭⧭⧭

The jet was quiet. The team was spread out around the cabin, each of them lost in their own heads. There was a tranquility over the space, one that only ever happened when unmitigated relief overwhelmed even the joy or fulfillment of a life saved.

Y/N sat in one of the single seats, across the aisle from where Spencer was settled. Tara and Luke had finally convinced her to get checked out by the EMTs, who had confirmed her concussion. She convinced herself that the fuzziness on the corners of her vision was just a symptom of that, not a product of the tears she was struggling to hold back.  

The team each stopped by Spencer’s seat, patting his shoulder, squeezing his hand, or in Rossi’s case, gently ruffling his hair. They all spoke briefly in hushed, grateful tones. All except Y/N. She couldn’t formulate a sentence that seemed adequate. There was simultaneously too much and nothing to say. Everything felt contrived or insufficient or intemperate.

Spencer was safe. They hadn’t been too late. He was bruised and undoubtedly sore, but ultimately, he’d been through worse. So why was her heart still aching? Why couldn’t she catch her breath? She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since leaving the raid, so why did her throat feel like it was on fire? She closed her eyes, leaned her head back. She incessantly pressed her hands together, trying to crack her sore knuckles over and over again.

A pair of hands gently closed over her own, stopping the abuse, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know who they belonged to. His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands and she cursed the tears that spilled over her bottom lashes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t force her to look at him or acknowledge her shattering. He waited her out, rubbing a rhythm on her skin and steadying her without a word. She opened her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet. Instead she focused on their joined hands, reciprocating the gentle pulses he gave every so often.

She turned her head to wipe her wet cheeks on her shoulder as the landing announcement came over the cabin speaker. She did look at him then, and the emotion in his gaze left her feeling raw and exposed. Their hands reluctantly separated to buckle their seat belts. Y/N closed her eyes again, turning her face into the warmth of the early morning sun as the jet began its descent.

When they landed, everyone wearily shuffled off the plane, eager to get home to their beds. Penelope met them at the elevator, enveloping Spencer in a long hug, the rest of the team smiling at their embrace. They each moved through the bullpen, gathering their things and talking quietly. Y/N’s eyes paused on her bag, brought up from the parking garage by one of the team after she’d gone missing. They lingered for a long moment on the case file, still sitting where she’d left it hours ago, before she let herself let it go. She grabbed her bag and turned to see Spencer standing in the aisle, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on her.

“Hey,” she said dumbly.

He smiled. “Hi.”

Her hands wrung the straps of her bag. “How—how’re you holding up?”

“I’ve been worse.” He shrugged. “How’s your head?”

“I’ve been worse,” she agreed.

“That’s good. Because I think after all that, the least you could do is give me a ride home,” he joked.

Y/N knew he was trying to reassure her that he was fine, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. If anything, his attempts to provide comfort made her feel worse. Because she couldn’t forget the sound of the gunshot at the warehouse, the sight of the knife at his throat, the feeling of nearly losing someone whom she knew she could love if she just had more time. Too exhausted to hide her emotions, she could tell by the change in Spencer’s eyes that the pain was apparent on her face.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t be driving, even if it’s just a mild concussion. Where are your keys?”

“It’s fine. I’m all ri—” Y/N started.

“I know I phrased that as a question, but I’m not really asking.” He held out his hand.

Normally she would have argued, but she just didn’t have the energy. Y/N dug into her bag, fishing out the keys and dropping them into his hand. He closed his fingers around them and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on,” he murmured. He waved to the rest of the team, and Y/N nodded, avoiding their eyes.

The ride in the elevator was silent. The walk to the car, too. They were pulling out of the garage before Spencer finally broke the silence.

“You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” he asked. Y/N stayed quiet. “We all missed the connection to Liberty Ranch.”

“But I knew something was off, and I didn’t say anything. I— I almost came to find you before I left, and if I had just done that—”

“Y/N,” Spencer interrupted. “The plan was already in motion. Meadows and Merva would have just figured out another way to execute it.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “And without you and the leads from the warehouse, the team might not have figured it out in time.”

Y/N opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t have a response. She didn’t even want to consider that possibility. She leaned her head against the window, pressing the thumb and fingers of one hand into her eyes to stave off the throbbing.

Graciously, Spencer let her remain in silence the rest of the ride to her apartment. There was so much to say, especially now; she didn’t know where to begin. And even after everything, she couldn’t stop herself from bringing up that wall— protecting herself from what she knew could hurt her more than any unsub.

They pulled onto her street, fairly empty at such an early hour. Spencer parked in front of her apartment, opening the car door and coming around the other side of the car. She expected him to give her the keys, but as she exited the car, he waited by the gate for her. “I’ll walk you up.”

Spencer opened the gate, allowing her to walk through before closing it behind them and following her up the sidewalk. “I need the keys,” she told him.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right, right.” He placed them into her outstretched hand, and she wondered if she imagined his fingers lingering over hers.

When they reached her door, she unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open, stepping over the threshold. He waited outside, hands in his pockets. Y/N rolled her keys in her hand, and Spencer watched them.

“Um— thank you for—” Y/N started.

“I told Emily on the jet, and I’ll tell you now.” Spencer raised his eyes to meet hers. There was that look again, the one she couldn’t quite identify. “I’ve always had a hard time saying what I feel. And maybe sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being disappointed. But sometimes it’s because the words I’m looking for don’t exist in the English language.”

“Spence—”

“Please just let me get this out,” he said. “There have been a couple moments over the past few months where I thought maybe we were sharing mamihlapinatapei.”

“Mamih what?” Y/N asked.

“Mamihlapinatapei.” He repeated, gesturing with his hands. “It’s a Yagan word that originates on the Tierra del Fuego archipelago off the southern tip of Argentina. It translates succinctly as ‘the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.’”

“Oh.” Y/N felt a flush rising up in her cheeks.

Suddenly, Spencer couldn’t meet her eyes. “I, um—I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship or make things awkward at work. But last night, I… I just— I’ve had too many moments in my life where I thought it might be my last, and I hadn’t said all the things I needed to say.” He met her eyes again, and there was that familiar storm. “Last night I was out of time, and I hadn’t told you how I feel, and I realized that I wouldn’t get another chance, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to—”

Y/N stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed their mouths together. She tried to pour everything into the kiss: every blush, every worry, every laugh, every panicked moment, every mamihlapinatapei. Spencer cradled her face in his hands, opening his mouth and capturing her bottom lip, accepting everything she gave him. She wound one of her hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and grounding herself to this new reality that almost wasn’t. The height of the kiss tapered off, and Y/N drew back, untangling her fingers from his hair and her heart from his grasp. Spencer watched her carefully, honey eyes uncertain.

“I do. Feel the same,” Y/N confirmed. Spencer’s lips twitched. “I’m not good at vulnerability. I’ve got a great track record of getting hurt.” Spencer grabbed her hand and opened his mouth, but Y/N continued, “But then I thought we might lose you, that time was out, and that I— I wouldn’t get the chance to see if you could be— if this could be more.” She gestured between them and then met his eyes again. “And I guess being vulnerable isn’t so bad in comparison. Because I think I could fall in love with you. I think maybe it’s already happening.” She held her breath and pressed her lips together, fighting the regret of saying too much.  

“Actually, there’s a word for that, too.” Spencer smiled, warm and soft and genuine. “Forelsket. The origin is Norwegian, and it roughly translates to ‘the euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.’”

“Forelsket?” Y/N asked.

“Well, it’s more like forelsket,” Spencer corrected.

“Wow, okay, 187.” Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like days. “Forelsket.”

“Better,” Spencer praised. “There’s also the Tagalog version, kilig.”

Y/N took a step closer to him and smoothed his shirt where her hands had wrinkled it. “Translation?”

“‘The sudden feeling of an inexplicable joy one gets when something romantic happens,’ or alternatively ‘the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.’” Spencer moved his hand to her waist and stepped over the threshold.

Y/N cupped his cheek in her hand, soothing the bruises and guiding him back to her. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

[adhdeancas]

hi! if you still take requests for your transnatural series, could you do kaia, claire, and jack hanging out and kaia uses they/she? maybe jack learns about gender?

sorry it took me so long! I finally got the inspiration bc of LDOV, so here’s what Claire, Kaia, and Jack are doing to celebrate! featuring sickly sweet gays, gender-fuckery, and young dumbassery

Jody had made them promise not to drink. Like they would, with Jack right there. He may look like he’s their age, but that kid is… well, a kid. Claire had antagonized her purposely by pouring all their drinks into old empty bottles of margarita mix and tequila. Kaia reaches across her girlfriend to grab one now, swinging the Cuervo bottle of water toward their picnic setting. Jack and Claire may be cool enough to drink the homemade punch all day long, but Kaia’s teeth are starting to ache. Christ, she’s starting to sound as old as Dean and Sam. 

“Babe, pass me the box over there.” Claire interrupts her thoughts. Kaia blinks and passes said cardboard over to Claire, realizing they don’t actually know what’s in this one. Claire grins, obviously recognizing her confusion. “Surprise, Jack, we’re actually here to celebrate.” 

Jack’s whole face lights up. “Really? What? Is it someone’s birthday?” 

Claire rolls her eyes and Kaia presses a smile into submission. “No, kid, it’s lesbian day of visibility,” she says. She hands Kaia a cupcake from the box then, one of the giant ones they sell at the supermarket, with Claire’s clear personal touch of ‘congrats, you’ve got taste’ written in icing over the top. Kaia lets out a short laugh, and Claire beams. Jack cranes his neck over to see the writing until Claire passes him his own cupcake. It distracts him long enough that Kaia can duck in for a long sweet kiss that leaves Claire blushing. 

“Thanks, Claire. Let me see yours?” 

Claire obediently takes the last cupcake out of the box and sticks a candle in the middle, not quite covering up her message that says ‘congrats, you escaped the evangelicals.’ 

“Impressed that fit on a cupcake,” Kaia teases. Claire waggles her eyebrows. 

“I’m real talented with my fingers.” 

Kaia nudges her with a snort. “What’s a lesbian?” Jack asks abruptly. 

Kaia takes a peak at his own cupcake now as Claire lights it with the bic she keeps in her jacket. His says ‘congrats, your whole family is lesbian.’ “A lesbian,” Claire says studiously, lighting their and her own candle. “Is somebody who likes girls. Women. In a gay way.” She raises her eyebrows at him but he just blinks. “I’m a lesbian. They’re a lesbian.” She nods her head to Kaia. “Jody and Donna? Big ole d-” Kaia coughs loudly. “Lesbians. Sam and Eileen too, totally gay. And Dean and Cas don’t quite count, but they get an honorary title because it took them twelve years to figure out they were totally in love with each other.” 

Kaia shakes her head. “True kid, you’ve only got lesbians. Good for you,” She extends a fist to Jack and he bumps it happily. 

“Now blow out your candle.” Claire commands. They all take looks at each other to get on the same page and then blow them out at once. Well, Claire and Kaia blow theirs out. Jack huffs and puffs on his, but the stubborn thing stays lit. “Come on, Jack, blow it out!” 

Kaia starts laughing when they realize, and they’re leaned all the way back in the grass before Claire leans over to check on them. God, their girlfriend is a bitch, and she loves her so much. “You fucker,” she whispers, pointing at the poor kid. He’s about to turn blue with effort all for a trick candle. 

Claire winks. “That’s okay, Jack, I got you,” she licks her fingers and pinches the flame out, to Jack’s huge fucking amazement. 

“How did you-” 

She shows him her unburned fingers, grins. “I’m a badass.” 

“Do it again!” 

Claire laughs. “Later, dude. We’ve got plenty of flames to practice on tonight.” She sprawls out so her head’s in Kaia’s lap, apparently too good for the ground. 

Kaia sits up to put a hand on her cheek and sends an exaggerated wink to Jack. “Remember, nothing to anybody, but especially not Jody or Cas,” She reminds him. They’d kill them all if they knew she and Claire had brought fireworks with them. But hey, it’s Lesbian Day. They’re allowed. Being gay and committing crimes, and all. Fireworks in an abandoned field? That’s nothing compared to what they do on the regular 9 to 5.

“I remember.” Jack solemnly swears. “But Kaia, I thought-” He stops, eyebrows twisting in confusion. 

“What’s up, Jack?” 

He hesitates again before continuing. “I thought you weren’t a girl. Aren’t lesbians supposed to be girls?” 

Kaia grins. “Hm, kinda.” She looks down at Claire, whose eyes have fluttered shut with Kaia’s soft touches. She doesn’t open her eyes but must feel Kaia’s look, because she chips in.

“It’s more about loving girls in a gay way than being full-blown girl,” she tells him. Her hand seeks out the one of Kaia’s that’s not on her cheek and intertwines their fingers. Kaia’s heart flutters, and they can feel the tips of their ears flush. “Like Sam and Eileen. And Kaia.” 

Kaia nods, thankful for the start of the explanation. “Gender’s complicated. And sexuality. But, uh, it’s more about what you feel. Than the labels or anything,” 

“But being a lesbian’s great.” Claire says emphatically. “I mean, look at her.” She gestures wildly up to Kaia and ends up flopping a hand against her shoulder. “Sorry, babe,” 

“‘S okay,” Kaia assures her. They look up to see Jack looking at them with like the softest eyes she’s ever seen. It makes her blush and look back at Claire, who has the good sense to keep her eyes shut when she’s being sappy.

“I wanna be a lesbian!” 

Kaia grins, full-out this time, at the childlike wonder on his face. “Awesome, dude. Go for it.” 

Claire reaches a blind hand out to do an awkward version of her and Jack’s secret handshake. He complies just as clumsily. “Hell yeah, Jack. It’s in your blood. But, y’know, live your truth or whatever.” 

Kaia pats Claire on the cheek, once, twice, slapping a little harder each time until Claire’s eyes fly open and she tackles her. They tousle on the ground with Jack cheering and switching sides depending on who’s winning in the moment, until Claire rolls over and lets out a harsh gasp. Kaia stops immediately, turning her to look at the damage. “My fucking cupcake!” Claire cackles maniacally and shoves a handful of cake and icing at her face.

It devolves into a full-blown food fight. Kaia manages to eat most of her crushed cupcake through Claire’s repeated attacks with it, but once Jack gets involved, all bets are off. Jack squeezes a bottle of mayonnaise onto Claire’s shirt, and she upends the Tito’s bottle over his head. At one point Kaia gets hit with lunch meat (they make a vulgar joke that only Claire understands) and manages to get Claire in a headlock so Jack can smush the cupcake frosting he’d scraped off all over her face while she swears vengeance. 

They sneak onto the nearest farm to hose each other off, during which Claire very nearly gets her revenge in a water fight until the farmer catches on and runs them off the property. They’re all breathing hard and laughing by the time they get back to their field, and they huddle under a horse blanket from the back of Jody’s truck while they watch their fireworks. It’s a good day.

[cocobear137]

⇠┉ ♡ His Last Text ♡ ┉⇢

Izuku Midoriya x reader one-shot (Y/N POV)

Warning: Angst

I'll admit that dating a hero was a risk. Everyone knows that heroes are busy and that they don't have time for their love life. For a moment, I believe that, but my boyfriend Izuku proved me wrong.

He never took an extra shift without my permission. He made sure that I was well aware of his missions. Whether they were dangerous or not, he reassured me every time. And in turn, I was always supportive and caring. But as the years went by, his work seemed to consume our time together. He told me that it was small gigs and calls, nothing too dangerous that needed my worry. It was the number of times he told me.

"Izuku. Can't someone else do it this time?"

"No, Y/N. Everyone is on that mission overseas. Even Kacchan and Todoroki are out there. No one else is here to pick up the phone."

"I-I... understand."

Izuku walked up to me from the doorway. Gently, he held up his hands to caress my face. I leaned into his touch and waited for him to pull away. I could tell he was hesitating. Placing a kiss on my forehead, he said his goodbyes and left.

◃⋯⋯⋯▹

"Izuku, can you please stay? At least for dinner."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I told you, the mission is confidential and urgent. I need to go."

Lately, Izuku has been secretive. Even with missions that he swore never to speak about, he would tell me because he trusts me. Does he not trust me anymore? He left without even eating. My boyfriend came home just before lunch but was too tired to eat. I sent him to bed. When I was about to wake him up for a meal, he's dressed in his hero costume and ready to go out again. Trust me when I say that I tried to stop him. He was overworked and exhausted. The green eyes that once held a heroic shine were now dull and lifeless. Whatever he was doing out there must've been serious if he couldn't even tell me about it.

I ate dinner alone again, spending the time thinking about getting a pet. Maybe I'll get a dog? And go on walks to get out more. But will Izuku be ok with it? Just as I was about to get lost in thought, my phone chimed as a new message appeared. The screen lit up with Izuku's name on it. Immediately, I picked up my phone to open the text.

➜I love you, Y/N. I hope you know that.

From then on, every time Izuku couldn't wake up with me or sit down to eat a meal, he'd send a loving message. It was odd but sweet. He was reminding me that he still loves me.

➜Good Morning, sunshine!

➜I always loved your cooking. Save me some?

➜The morning birds sing for you, love.

➜Make me some Katsudon? You always made it delicious.

➜Good night, love. May the moon and stars dance with you in your dreams.

➜Hope you have a lovely day today.

The messages started getting longer as he got busier.

➜♡ Y/N, you are my hero and my love, always helping me when I can't help myself and loving me when I didn't love myself.

➜♡ You cared for me, even when you didn't ask. Trusted me when I hid the darkest of secrets and loved me at my weakest.

➜♡ I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, but a thank you isn't enough. The sun, the moon, the stars that dance in your dreams aren't enough.

➜♡ The world isn't enough because you made me, little ole me, enough for you.

➜♡ You made it clear that my love for you is enough. And you are enough. I love you with all of my heart, being, and soul.

He sent poetic messages for weeks. I asked him what the texts were about he pretend he didn't know anything. This had my gears turning, but as the night grew darker and the warmth of my loving boyfriend's arms around me, I drifted off to sleep.

➜♡ I know that work has been pushing me further and further away from you but, (Last name)(First name), I love you. Please wait for me. I have something for you when I get home.

I waited for Izuku. But he never came. Midnight rolled around, and just as I was about to head to bed, I hear a knock at the door. Quietly, opening the door, I was face-to-face with Bakugou. His head hung low as his body was visibly tired and dirty.

"Hey, Bakugou. You look tired, come in?" I stepped to the side, but he didn't move. "Are you ok, Bakugou?"

"The nerd wanted me to give this to you." Bakugou turned his face to the side, unable to make eye contact with you. It was a small black box. I opened it carefully and inside was a diamond ring. I was shocked. But before my mind could question the small object in my hands, Bakugou spoke.

"Deku... no, Izuku wants you to know that he loves you, but now, he's further than before."

➜✉ This is more angsty than what I usually write and I am exploring more. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism, it helps me out a lot! Hope you enjoyed this one-shot and thank you so much for reading!

[mxvladdy]

Mistletoe Prt.3

Here’s the last one! Hope you like!

Asmodeus

-Adorable. He loves it. Does it have to be a kiss on the lips though? How unimaginative. -But white and green go great on him soooo -Doesn’t even try to subtle -Can and will go in for more than once for smooches

Darling~ Come over~ I have a surprise ;*

Your D.D.D lights up. Flashing and buzzing as you are bombarded with texts. The other occupants of the school study hall all shooting you scathing looks. You smile back apologetically digging through your tote for the pinging nuisance. Wrapping your hand around the device to muffle it’s noise you hurry out into the hallway to see what the emergency was.

The sigh of relief you exhale was only slightly tinged with annoyance as you read the messages.

Asmo- I told you I’m in remedial lessons today! I can’t. Can it wait till after dinner?

You hide the screen as you hear the door open. “Sorry- house emergency.” You lie, smiling up sheepishly at your professor. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Your professor grunts in acknowledgement, knowing all too well the foolishness that happens in that house. They scuttle back into the classroom with a terse warning to hurry it up. You nod and peak back at your phone.

My sinfully good looks wait for no one Plus I knoooow you’ll love this one! Oh! No-Wait! On second thought- take all the time you need. The anticipation will just make it all the more rewarding ;)

Rolling your eyes you pocket the device with a smile. Whether he is teasing or not at least you’ll have something to gossip about with Solomon next weekend. The rest of the time goes at a snail's pace. Much to your annoyance, Asmodeus’s little plan working like a charm. You were beyond curious to see what he had. You had to admit he gave the best presents and fashion tips. Wasn’t Majolish having a winter sale? Idly you let your mind wander to what was in store for tonight till your remedial lesson was over. Not waiting for the dismissal bell you pack quickly and make your way back home.

The halls are quiet when you enter. Most of the brothers still out doing their after school activities or jobs. You head to Asmo’s room without interruption and knock.

No answer.

“Asmo.” You try again knocking louder. “You in there?” Still nothing. Pressing your ear to the door you strain your senses to hear if he was in. The door swings open and you lurch forward toppling over yourself.

“Falling for me already? You haven’t even seen what I have on!” Asmo giggles from his place beside the door. He makes no offer to help you up instead waits for reaction. Righting yourself on the floor you gaze up at him ready to chew him out. Your words die on your lips, a chuckle slipping out instead. “Hey!” Asmo’s tone dropped from teasing to hurt. “Don’t laugh! I look adorable.”  

“I’m not laughing at that. It’s- It’s just you do know you don’t get more kisses with the amount of mistletoe you have right?” You laugh harder as his face turns bright pink.

Collecting yourself, you look around the room. Bless, he put a lot of effort into this. His bedroom could have been a set for a home and living magazine. His fireplace was lit. Flames crackling merrily and throwing it’s toasty warmth around the room. On top of it the mantle is decorated with winter shrubbery and bowls of cinnamon scented pinecones, all tastefully topped with white little berries. A tray by his couch held a bottle of something red, no doubt a sweet dry wine and some snacks pilfered from the kitchens. He even had some blankets and pillows strewn about. Whether for use or decoration was anyone's guess. But, you had a nagging suspicion you would find out.

He looks down at his mistletoe themed ensemble then the room at large. “Guess I did go a little overboard.” He helps you up with a chuckle of his own. “But can you blame me?”

You hold him close snuggling into the soft sweater he wore (also knitted with little berries in the design). “Most definitely.” You agree. “Great attempt though. Earned you at least one kiss.”

“Oh?” He pouts. “Can’t break that silly ol’ human rule for me~” His brows waggle suggestively.

“Hmmm- promise not to tell anyone?” You link your fingers around his neck to pull him down for a gentle press of lips. He tasted like mint and sugar. “It’s quite unorthodox.”

“With enough incentive darling, anything for you.” He returns your chaste kiss with a heated one of his own.

Beelzebub

-Hmmm berries tasty -Honestly he doesn’t really care about it - He just never really gave it any mind. He wouldn’t force a kiss on you and this feels kinda like it -But if you're ok with this and free kisses? Well he can get behind that

How unusual. Well, it’s not unusual to see Beel in the kitchen. Not at all. What was odd was what he was doing. He was cooking, not just eating the ingredients. baking to be precise. You had come in for a midday cup of coffee and snack.  But now you were curious to see what he was up to. To find him so thoroughly preoccupied was rare.

“Beel?” You approach him peeking over his massive back to see what he was flouring on the butcher block. He acknowledges you with a low grunt. His eyes locked with the screen of his phone. Back hunched and elbow deep in flour and egg he was kneading his dough. He was so engrossed. “You wanna go get something to eat?” You eye the mess in front of him. You can hear his stomach groan and growl. Yet he didn’t touch anything in front of him.

Suddenly his head snaps to you, eyes wide as he realizes who is in the room with him. “Ah-you were supposed to be in your room.” He rises to his full height trying to hide the mess on the table. He was covered in powdered sugar and flour, a smudge of jelly smeared across the arch of his nose to his right blushing cheek.

“Sorry. Want me to pretend I didn’t?” You wipe the jelly off of his face and smile.

“No-the surprise is lost.” He shakes his head, but brightens immediately. “It’s ok though, would you like to help?”

You agree readily, completing glossing over his previous comment. You were too excited to just spend some time cooking with him to notice.  He was making shortbread cookies. Cut dough of all shapes and sizes were piled all over the counter. Some iced, some cooling, and some waiting to be shaped. You take up the mantle of the official cookie cutter picking through the multitude of different holiday cookie cutters he had bought to find the perfect one. “So what brought this on?” You ask from your perch a little while later. You were taking a break to watch him pull out a sheet from the oven with his bare hands.

He brings the tray over to the counter sliding the cookies off the sheet to the cooling rack. “I thought you would like it. Something to remind you of home.” Oh. He fiddles with his fingers picking at the nail beds before continuing. “And also I ah-” He turns to the fridge returning with a small plate with two iced cookies. “I made some with the mistletoe baked in, but then I read it was poisonous to humans. So I ate those.”

You looked down at the mistletoe shaped cookies. The white and green icing bleed a little at the edges but the lines were steady and done with care. You beam up at Beel taking the offered plate. He waits  watching you take a large bite. You let out a delighted moan. The buttery cookie melts down on your tongue. The mix of salty and sweet was perfect.

“Good?” He asks, holding his breath. Nodding vigorously you offer him the other one. “No- I made those for you.” He takes one of the none iced ones and plops down next to you watching you enjoy your treat.

“This was wonderful! Thank you Beel.” The Devildom was great but you did miss some of the smaller things the human world had to offer. “You know the old tradition with mistletoe?” He cocks his head and shrugs, mouth full of cookies. He knew it was something couples did but beyond that he couldn’t recall.

You wave him down to your level. He goes leaning down to meet your determined gaze. Quick as a wink you strike kissing him twice. Once on his lips then the second time to chase away the crumbs stuck to the corner of his lips. He leans back swallowing with an audible gulp. “The first one was for the mistletoe and the second was for the cookies.”

“Oh-” He croaks dumbly. “I have more shaped like that on the cooling rack.”

“I’ll help you ice them if you pay me in some kisses of my own.” You’ve never seen him move so fast.

Belphegor

-Meh. He use to love it when he would still visit the human realm as an angel

-Now though, the peasantry of it is dulled. Reminds him of sweeter yet more sour times with his sister

-But with you around now he might just give it another shot

The bed sheets shift uncharacteristically behind you. Belphie’s warm body disappearing from your back. Odd. You squint to the grandfather clock across his room. It was way too early for Belphie to be moving. You stay curled under the blankets listing him to tiptoe around the attic. He mutters something under his breath bumping into something large and heavy on the floor. He goes quiet and you feel his eyes lock onto your back. You let out a snore.

“You are a terrible actor.”

“And you are terrible at sneaking.” You flip over to shoot him a glare. “Why are you out of bed? ‘M cold.” You yawn throwing the blankets back and beckoning him back. He doesn’t budge. “Belphie~” You whine patting his cooling spot.

“No. Go back to sleep.” He leaves not sparring you a second glance. Hmph- rude. Bundling up with his abandoned pillows you do just that. Too sleepy to be miffed at his curt behavior.

Next time you wake it’s to someone gently stroking your cheek. Humming you nuzzle into it ready to drift off again. Only then to have the same soft fingers pinch your nose shut. You gasp toppling over the side of the bed. Belphegor laughter clearing the sleep from your mind. “You ass.” You squeak up at him from your prone position on the carpeted floor.

He shrugs sliding down to the floor. “You wouldn’t wake up so-”

Gee, you wonder why. It was still super early in the morning, the second moon of the Devildom still high in the sky. You glance at the clock again. He had only been gone for an hour. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” You rub the sleep from your eyes.

He shakes his head and helps you to your feet. “Better yet, I’ll show you. Bring a pillow and put your slippers on. It’s cold.” He leads you out into the hall, his presences calm and contemplative. Surprisingly alert too.  

Belphie takes you down to the house's planetarium unlocking the door with a flick of his hand. “Had to make sure the others didn’t ruin it.” He answers your confused look. “I would have to get violent if Mammon stole my stuff-again.” Pushing open the door he lets you in first. You gasp.

The room was a winter wonderland to put it mildly. Large ornaments dangled from the many wood beams of the ceiling. All for them giving off a soft glow of light like a lantern. Enchanted snow fell from the rafters. The flakes kissing your skin before melting on contact with your bed warmed skin. Snow and frost glistened around coating the plants and sitting area in a white blanket. Ice coats the window panes and clings to the arched ceiling. “Like it?” You nod wordlessly turning in slow circles to take it all in.

“Why aren’t I freezing?” You cup your hands, curious as to why the snow didn’t freeze your fingertips. He smiles softly at your wonder.

“It’s magic. Can’t have your weak human body freezing to death.”

“Hey!” He laughs at your feigned anger. Taking your hand again he helps you down to a nest of pillows and blankets all bundled around his stargazing machine. “What’s the occasion?” You ask, getting comfy down on the floor. He winks not answering you. Instead he goes to work on his machine. Once he is satisfied he comes to sit down next to you. Wordlessly you crawl into his lap, as you did every time he wished to stargaze with you.

He is quiet for sometime after that, only breaking it to point out an interesting constellation from time to time. You go into a peaceful daze, lulled by his warmth and his thumb stroking slow and soothing circle between your shoulder blades.

“I used to do this with Lilith. It was an old tradition of ours. During the winter months on earth we would sneak down to observe the stars. Sometimes even the northern lights depending on where we went.” He pauses for a moment lost in the past. You wait resting a hand on his knee. “We saw a lot of weird traditions down there. Some I loved. After-after the fall I lost a lot of those feelings. But then you had to show up…” He glances down at you with a wiry smirk. You return it followed by a middle finger. He flashes you a fang, pulling you closer to his chest. “There was one tradition I found the oddest, but I always enjoyed it. Would you like to try it with me?”

You nod intrigued to what human custom such an ancient being like him enjoyed. He jerks his chin to one of the lower beams of the ceiling. Tied to it was a mass of white and green berries. “Wow.” It was all you were able to muster, your throat feeling tight from the sentiment and implications.

“Tch-Do you not like it?” His voice turns terse unsure if he should be insulted or saddened.

“No, never. Just wasn’t expecting you to be so smooth.” You chuckle leaning up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Hey!” He snaps pulling your head away. “That didn’t count.”

“No?.” You huff. “Perhaps you should show me how it’s done then.”

[dearest-bucky]

Something like love (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:  Sometimes what you’re looking for is already there.

Words: 8.6K

Warnings: sadness, heartbreak then some good ol’ fluff

A/N: This is written for @ussgallifreyfics 700 followers writing challenge. Congrats on your followers darling and thank you so much for letting me join your writing challenge. <3  My prompt was the quote by Aretha Franklin “Sometimes what you’re looking for is already there.” I’m anxious to post it, I feel like I haven’t done justice to my prompt but I gave my best so I really hope you guys will like it.

p.s. I’m sorry @ussgallifreyfics for tagging you again in this, but I had to make a new blog and repost everything here once again. 

Originally posted: March 26, 2020

“You look very handsome Bucky.” She whispered the words with a small smile on her face and he grinned in return, obviously excited.

“I hope everything goes well tonight. It’s almost two months that we’ve been going out and I’m hoping tonight we could -”

“Of course!” She interrupts him, still sporting her sweet smile, but inside her heart was slowly breaking in pieces.

Bucky was her best friend. Only sometimes she wished he wasn’t. Sometimes she wished he was just another man she could maybe let know she liked him. But she couldn’t do that to Bucky.

She knew what he was going to say. But she couldn’t hear him say it out loud.

Bucky had been dating a girl for the past two months. They met in a small diner in Brooklyn, one where he would go often because it reminded him of the old times. She worked there was a waitress and she had seen Bucky going in almost every morning, taking an almost immediate interest on the broody blue-eyed man. And the rest is history.

Now, after almost two months, things between them were going smoothly and Bucky had never been happier around someone. He was hoping after tonight things could progress between him and his girlfriend.

Surely, it was logical. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt y/n to her very soul.

Y/n was seemingly lost in her thoughts when she felt Bucky press a light kiss on her cheek and her breath hitched for a second.

“I gotta go doll, it’s almost seven.”

She only nodded her head and he made a quick exit from the room, leaving y/n behind alone.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she felt her knees fail her and she fell harshly on the floor. Her knees would probably bruise but she didn’t care because at that moment her heart was hurting more than anything else.

She felt the tears stream down her cheeks, the sobs growing heavy and making it difficult for her to breathe.

“Miss y/n, it seems that you are having a panic attack. I’ve notified Dr. Banner to come to your assistance.” The smooth voice of Friday was heard through the erratic beating of her heart and she quickly wiped the tears from her face, trying to collect herself before someone found her in her miserable state of heartbreak.

“It’s okay Fri, I’m okay.” She spoke the words hoarsely and got up on her feet carefully, taking a deep breath and calming herself down.

She patted the hair out of her face and made her way to the door, leaving Bucky’s room for the safety of her own. Just as she was about to reach the corner of the hall that lead to her personal room, Steve called her from behind, making her stop her steps.

She willed herself to take another deep breath and turned around to face the captain.

“Hey, Steve.” Her voice was small but seemingly calm.

He reached her in two other strides and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You okay? Friday said something was wrong.”

His soft, caring voice broke her heart once again. Steve was the most amazing person in the world. Always putting the others before himself, always caring more than he should, always making sure everyone was okay and happy. And y/n hated to worry him.

“Yes.” She spoke, raising her voice a little, making it more believable that she was saying the truth. “Yes, I’m good Steve.”

Her eyes did not meet his as she spoke though, and that was what gave her away. She never looked people in the eyes when she lied and Steve knew that too well. But he didn’t say anything.

“Okay. What are you up to now?”

“I was just going in my room, probably watch a movie or something.”

“We could do that together?” His voice was suggestive when he asked and she couldn’t find it in her to say no to him.

She was tired. She just wanted to be in her room alone and hope to fall asleep to avoid all the hurt and pain in her chest, but Steve was standing in front of her, a hopeful glint in his eyes, coaxing her to say yes to his offer, so that’s exactly what she did.

They chose to watch on the common areas, as it was near the kitchen and the fridge, so it would be easier to have snacks. When they got there, she scrolled down on the Netflix home to find something to watch. They both decided on a comedy movie.

One movie ended and they put another one to play, not wanting to go to sleep just yet.

Y/n was feeling a little better, watching movies took her mind off of Bucky for a while and that’s all she wanted to do. To not think of Bucky and how he was getting lucky tonight with his girlfriend.

She was succeeding in her task until halfway through the second movie Steve’s phone chimed notifying he had a new message. She turned her head towards him while he read the text and quickly typed a reply of his own.

“Who is it?” She couldn’t help the question that slipped, but when Steve answered she wished she hadn’t asked at all.

“Buck, says he’s not coming home tonight.” His reply was short before he turned the attention to the TV again, totally oblivious of how y/n’s face twisted in pain, the pang in her chest making it impossible to stop the unwanted tears from spilling from her eyes.

She tried to wipe them quickly and discreetly with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but Steve noticed her sad face nonetheless.

He furrowed his brows in confusion and paused the movie, turning his attention to her, worry written on his features.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Y/n was caught like a deer in the headlights by the question. Nobody knew about her feelings for Bucky and she wanted it to remain that way. It wasn’t like it would change anything, only it would gain her pity from her other friends.

“Nothing.” She replied fast, killing her brain to think of a lie to tell to Steve. Anything would be a good excuse, but she came empty handed no matter how much she tried to think of something.

They were watching a silly comedy for fuck’s sake. What could possibly be the reason to cry at the moment?

“Y/n, look at me.” She listened to him and lifted her head slowly to meet Steve’s eyes.

“Now tell me what’s going on?” His voice was calm but determined, as if compelling her to tell nothing but the truth.

And that she did.

She told Steve everything. She told him about her feelings for Bucky, about the pain she was in because there was no way Bucky could reciprocate her love. She bared her heart and soul to the captain and only when she finished speaking Steve wrapped his arms firmly around her and hugged her closely.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I had no idea.” He whispered in her hair and she only sighed in his chest, not knowing what to say anymore. She was feeling tired from all the talking and all the crying and she only wanted to rest now.

Steve’s embrace seemed like a good place for that.

He kept playing with her hair softly until he felt her breathing even, he knew she had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake her up, he waited until he was sure she was deep in sleep until he untangled his arms from her and laid her down on the couch, covering her sleeping form with a blanket and turning the TV off before he left the room.

The next morning when she woke up, y/n felt like every muscle in her body was frozen by sleeping on the hard couch. She wasn’t used to sleeping anywhere else besides her bed.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got up on her feet, looking around for anyone else, but the place was empty. Even Steve was nowhere in sight.

She folded the blanket carefully before making her way to her bedroom, only to collide with a huge mass of muscle on the way there. When she picked up her head to see who it was, she was surprised to see Bucky in front of her.

He was sporting a huge grin on his face and she couldn’t help the warmth that spread in her chest in his presence.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” He ruffled her hair and bent his head down to kiss her cheek. He looked so happy, it was almost contagious.

“Morning, Buck.” Her reply was short and composed, y/n was trying her best to not let her hurt show in front of him. She tried to slip away from him and go to her room, but apparently Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my date went?” His voice was light, jovial, but it made her sick in her stomach. She couldn’t help the bitterness that slipped past her lips this time.

“Seeing how you didn’t come home last night, I’d say it went swell, didn’t it?” It was more of a rhetorical question, as she didn’t wait for his answer but walked away quickly, leaving a very confused Bucky behind.

Y/n didn’t want to make him feel bad. After all it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. It wasn’t his fault for having a girlfriend that wasn’t her and it definitely wasn’t his fault for not reciprocating her feelings. She knew she was damaged goods anyway.

With all the trauma from her past, she was convinced she didn’t deserve love, least of all from such a wonderful man as James Barnes.

Maybe her head was spinning, or maybe it was the room. She wasn’t sure anymore. What she was sure of though, was the figure of Bucky closing in more and more with every breath she took.

It burned. The air that got in her lungs burned like molten lava and she couldn’t stop the hurt. However, it all seemed to fade away when he touched her cheek with those cold metal fingers of his. The coolness of the vibranium soothed the pain as if it was magical.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. Keep breathing.” The words were hushed out in her ear like the peaceful rustling of autumn leaves in the wind and she had no other choice but to calm down and keep a steady breathing pattern.

“It’s okay, it’s all over.” His hands were cupping her cheeks and his thumbs were wiping away the tears that were staining her face. “You’re safe now doll, I’m here.”

Eventually she calmed down enough to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” Her words came out of her mouth slowly, but calm. Her hands touched his that were still resting on her face and she closed her eyes with a sigh, the feeling of his touch soothing, nourishing her soul with the warmth of sunlight she had missed so much lately.

“You didn’t. I was up anyway.”

She only hummed in response, not daring to open her eyes anymore to look at him. She was scared he would vanish if she did so.

After a few minutes of silence, it was Bucky who spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

That made her open her eyes and shake her head no. She still didn’t say a word though, and Bucky wanted to get her to talk, to be sure she was there with him now, not still lost in her night terrors.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about, then?” There was a lightness in his voice that made her feel better already, but she was still exhausted from her nightmare.

“Let’s lay down again, doll.” His words were soft and careful and she complied without a second thought. He tucked her in and put a piece of hair behind her ear, smiling when she sighed in relief by his touch.

“Can you stay?” She asked in a small voice, timid by the request and afraid of the response she could get. She thought maybe she was stepping over a line there with him and it made her anxious for a second, but his reply came shortly after and eased her erratic heart.

With a sweet smile and a short nod of affirmation, he laid down beside her.

Up until that night, Bucky was just another team member, a co-worker like the rest of them, but that changed when he decided to lay down with her and spend the rest of the night talking about everything that popped in their heads.

When the first rays of sunshine peaked through the linen curtains of her room,  they fell asleep close to one another, worn out from the long sleepless hours of the night but with their minds calm and hearts at peace.

After that night they became inseparable, the best of friends. A special bond was created between them, a bond so tight no one could break, even y/n’s growing feelings for the man.

That’s why she kept her mouth shut all of this time.

Y/n knew Bucky more than anyone else, she knew what made him smile, what made him frown. She knew what triggered his insecurities and his pain. Y/n knew Bucky so well and that is why she never told him of her feelings.

It would crash him. She knew this too.  Because she knew Bucky so well, she knew the best thing to do was keep her feelings to herself and carry on as always, as the best of friends they were. She never wanted to hurt the man she had come to love so much during this whole time, so she only allowed herself to cherish his friendship, totally platonic, even though it was doing nothing but break her heart every time he went out on dates with women that weren’t her.

This time though, he seemed really serious about Allison, and despite the fact that y/n was in great pain, she had to he happy for him. She could never forgive herself if she stood in the way of his happiness.

These were all the thoughts running through her head the whole time, and she felt bad for snapping at Bucky earlier. She decided to take a shower and collect herself before finding him again and apologizing.

It wasn’t long before she entered the kitchen like a whole other person, showered and with a new goal set in her mind.

During the time she was in her room, she prepared herself to act normal around him, after all, nothing had changed. Bucky was still her friend and she wouldn’t lose him, especially not because of those stupid feelings she had been harboring for him lately more than ever.

“Hello y/n.” Vision was the first to spot her when she entered the kitchen and with a smile on her lips she greeted him back, next to him standing Wanda.

Bucky, who was sitting on a stool close to the counter, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, turned his head to look at her and when their eyes met, her smile got wider, if that was possible.

“Hey doll.” He spoke up, unsure from their earlier encounter, but her smile let him know everything was okay.

“Hi Buck, did you train already?” She asked, just like she always did and Bucky thought maybe her words from earlier were just her being her grumpy sleepy self.

He hummed in response, his eyes following her movements around the kitchen, filling up a cup with hot, just boiled water, to make her daily blueberry tea.

He loved how she worked around the cabinets, bringing out the small packets of blueberry tea and the pot of sugar.

She slipped the tea packet inside the cup and let it rest, meanwhile sitting on the vacant spot next to him, and Bucky loved having her near.

“What are the plans for today?” He asked enthusiastically and y/n couldn’t help but squint her eyes at him.

“Not much.” She dragged her words out. “I have training this afternoon with Steve but that’s it.”

He nodded his head in understanding, but the glint in his eyes told her he had something else in mind. Her suspicion was proved right when he spoke his next words.

“How about you don’t train today?”

Y/n met his eyes briefly, before turning the attention to her cup of tea, stirring the liquid, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“How about you go out for lunch with me and Allison?” His question found her unprepared and she had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat, quickly sipping on her tea, trying to gain a few seconds to gather herself and her thoughts.

“I’m not so sure about that Buck.” She tried to keep her voice steady. She tried so much to keep her stupid beating heart in control while she spoke. Tried to keep her face composed when she answered, to not let him know in how much pain she was.

“Why, c'mon doll. I’m sure Steve won’t say anything for one day.” Bucky was oblivious to her discomfort and it was only making her feel worse. Luckily, in that moment, Steve entered her peripheral vision and they both turned their heads to look at him.

Bucky was the one to speak first. “See, here’s Steve. Hey punk, you wouldn’t mind if y/n missed training today, would you?” His voice was light and Steve smiled at how happy his oldest friend seemed to be, but when he averted his eyes to look at y/n, he was met with her pleading face, discreetly shaking her head a little no, praying Steve would get her silent message.

It seemed that luck was in her side this time, because the Captain shook his head no too, this time in a response to Bucky.

“Sorry Buck, can’t do that. We have an upcoming mission and y/n needs to train on her hand to hand combat. Actually that’s why I came here now, to let her know we’re starting earlier.”

Bucky grunted out of displeasure, while y/n let out a short breath she didn’t know she had been holding until now. She gave Steve a thankful look and a small relieved smile made its way on her lips.

“Okay, I’m up.” She replied, patting Bucky once on his arm and taking her cup of tea with her.

“See you later Buck.” She spoke behind her shoulder and left the kitchen, Steve following behind her.

Only when they were out of the kitchen and she was sure there was no way Bucky could hear them anymore, y/n let out a long sigh and turned to look at Steve. “Thank you for that.”

“Anytime.” Came his short reply. “What happened though? You know training isn’t until later in the afternoon.”

Y/n sipped on her tea and kept walking towards the gym.

“I know. Bucky asked me to go to lunch with him and his girlfriend.” She confessed defeated and they entered the gym.

Steve looked at her sympathetically, his own heart breaking from her pain. After last night, when y/n told him everything, he finally could see everything in a much clearer light. Suddenly everything made sense. But Steve was upset with his best friend for breaking this wonderful girl’s heart. Bucky was too blind to see what was in front of him, who has been there for him for years now and the only one who was hurting was y/n. Steve thought something like this wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all her, who was too sweet and caring for her own good.

It was late that night when y/n heard the knocks on her door. She was laying in bed, a book in her hands, and despite the fact that she wasn’t paying any attention to the words on the pages, having already spent more than half an hour stuck in the same page, she couldn’t find it in herself to close the book and go to sleep.

She was startled by the knocks and turned her head to see the clock on her nightstand. It was almost midnight and she had no idea who it might be this late.

However she called for them to get inside, and she saw none other than Bucky Barnes open the door hesitantly and enter the room with quiet steps.

“What’s up Buck?” She put the book aside and looked at him, waiting for his answer.

“Nothing doll, I just came home and wanted to see if you were asleep.”

It was weird, as if they were two strangers forced to talk to one another.

“I was actually just going to sleep.”

He hummed in understanding.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” She then asked, always trying to make sure he was okay, he was feeling good, always putting his needs first.

He simply nodded and that was enough for her to pat the empty space of her bed in an invitation. He walked to her bed and laid down next to her without a word, sighing when his head hit one of the too many soft pillows she kept around her.

Y/n turned on her side to face him and reached out for his cheek with her left hand, fingertips stroking his cheekbone lightly. He could barely feel her touch, yet it was as soothing as ever.

“Is everything okay Bucky?”

He nodded, not wanting to stop feeling her touch just yet. She continued caressing his skin, just as lightly as before, waiting for him to speak up.

“Yeah doll, I just missed you.” His words were barely a whisper, but y/n was standing so close to him, it was impossible to miss them.

A smile broke through her lips and she closed her eyes to let his words sink in. How she wished he missed her the way she wanted him to miss her.

“Yeah?” She asked as if in disbelief but her smile didn’t falter.

“Yeah” he nodded his head and closed his eyes, relishing in her soft, soft touch.

“Can I sleep here tonight doll?” He asked, hope evident in his tone, and no matter how much y/n wanted to say no to him, she couldn’t.

She knew it wasn’t right. He had a girlfriend that made him happy, and she had those feelings that were becoming more and more difficult to conceal, with each passing day. But with his eyes locked on her face, his small smile blossoming on his lips only for her, she was hopeless. She nodded her head in approval and it was all he needed to get under the covers with her, arms stretching out to grab her body and bring it close to him, her face hiding in the crook of his neck and his nestling in her hair, smelling her strawberry shampoo.

They both fell asleep soon after, the night quiet and peaceful, no nightmares or other disturbances whatsoever.

Bucky knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do going to y/n’s room while he had a girlfriend who loved him, but lately the nightmares had been disturbing his sleep more often that he’d like to admit and the only person who can help with that is y/n. He feels like he’s using her to get his peaceful rest of the night and that makes him feel disgusted with himself, but then he thinks y/n is his best friend and this is normal for them.

Nothing is going on between them. They are simply two friends who help each other with the nightmares.

Y/n was woken up abruptly by three sharp knocks on her door. She grunted in displeasure and hid her face under the comforter, but that did nothing to help her as the person behind the door, decided to open it and enter in her room without her permission.

“Rise and shine sweet cheeks, urgent mission.” Natasha’s smooth voice was heard under the comforter and she opened her eyes in panic.

Her mind was only screaming one word: Bucky.

Luckily when she looked around, she was alone in her bed, Bucky had seemingly left before she woke up and despite the fact that she was grateful because she was spared from the knowing smirk of Natasha or any sassy remark she would be making if she found Bucky in her bed, y/n still felt bad he had left without saying anything.

She got up quickly and mumbled a sleepy “good morning” to Nat before starting to get ready, moving to her bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, then putting up her hair in a ponytail.

Once in the common room, her eyes immediately found Bucky, who was standing next to Steve, listening intently to the captain and his instructions.

“Y/n, good morning.” Steve greeted her and she mumbled a ‘morning’ of her own before Steve resumed his explaining again.

It was supposed to be an easy mission.  With most of the team in the field, the only thing they had to do was tear down a few Hydra bases somewhere near Bulgaria and stop those assholes from hurting anyone again, then come back home. It would be ideal if no one got hurt along the way, but with their line of work nothing was sure. They could all try to do their best though.

Weeks have been passing slowly in the compound. Despite the never ending missions, training and everything else that occupied their lives as Avengers, it seemed like the hours were dragging one after the other dangerously slow and it was making y/n anxious.

She had seen everyday less and less of Bucky lately, it seemed like he was always out of the compound, apparently spending time with his girlfriend. Last time they spoke, he told y/n how things between him and Allison were amazing and he seemed genuinely happy. Y/n had no other choice but to be happy for him, too.

While Bucky was busy with his girl, y/n had found herself get everyday more close to Steve. With him being the only one who knew of her feelings for Bucky, it was easy to open up to him. Also Steve was a great listener and he always seemed to have the best advice.

They were together cooking dinner for the whole team. It was a rare occasion for all of them to have dinner together and y/n wanted to make something special for all of them. Steve volunteered to help and she happily accepted.

“Don’t forget to stir the béchamel sauce.” She reminded him and Steve quickly complied, rushing to the saucepan to stir the sauce that was simmering on the stove.

The deep melodious voice of Frank Sinatra was heard through the speakers while they both cooked and a peaceful atmosphere was created around them. But that was about to be ruined right about in that same moment when in the kitchen entered none other than Bucky with a pretty brunette holding his hand.

Y/n stopped in her tracks, forgetting momentarily about the task in hand, her eyes stuck to the joined hands of Bucky and his girlfriend.

Steve was just as surprised to see Bucky there with Allison. His friend seemed to be a little hesitant the last time Steve had asked him to introduce him to his girl. Now he brought her at the compound without telling anyone. His eyes left Bucky to avert quickly to y/n, and Steve felt bad when he saw the evident pain in her eyes.

He wished he could do something, but he was feeling useless, standing there silent, until it was Bucky who decided to speak up.

“Hey, guys. There’s someone I want to introduce you with.” His voice was light and happy and he seemed blind towards the awkwardness Y/n and  Steve were radiating.

Y/n cleared her throat and broke out of her stupor, quickly mustering up a smile to direct to Bucky. She turned off the heat of the stove, cleaned her hands with a paper towel and moved around the counter to meet Bucky and the other girl.

“Hello.” Her tone was polite despite the pang of pain in her chest from the sight in front of her; she had trained herself well for this moment, also sporting an easy smile in her face. “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.” She stretched her hand out for Allison to take, and the other woman did just that, a big smile adorning her sweet features.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Her reply was lively, almost elated and y/n couldn’t hate her even if she wanted to.

Behind her walked Steve who also introduced himself politely.

Bucky was watching the interactions between them contented, sporting a boyish grin on his face.

“Allison is going to stay over for dinner.” He informed and y/n nodded her head, the smile never faltering from her lips. It was like her face was stuck in that smiling pose, her features were frozen and if she tried to change her mimic, her whole face would break.

“Well dinner will be ready shortly.”

“Okay, I’ll give Allie a tour in the meanwhile.” Steve nodded his head and saw Bucky and Allison leave the kitchen, holding hands happily.

When she was sure they were both out of sight and hearing, she turned around and carefully slammed her body to Steve, hiding her face in his chest and sighing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea they were coming tonight.” He spoke quietly only for her to hear.

Y/n shook her head lightly and returned to the cooking. She knew Bucky had a girlfriend, it was about time he brought her to the compound for everyone to meet. No matter how much it hurt to see, Bucky was happy, Allison made him happy, that’s why all y/n was left to do was accept this and move on.

Soon everyone was gathered around the dinning table and Bucky had introduced his girlfriend to the whole team. She was seemingly shy and sweet and had a cute laugh. Bucky would turn to look at her every now and then and his eyes would shine with adoration, a stupid smile never leaving his face.

“It’s disgusting how sweet Bucky is around you.” Sam teased Allison and she giggled; actually giggled in delight like a schoolgirl.  Bucky rolled his eyes playfully at Sam but the stupid smile was still plastered on his features, like it had been the whole time.

Y/n only sank further down to her chair, trying to make herself disappear. She was mindlessly playing with the food in her plate, not having eaten that much, when she heard her name being called.

“Huh?” She picked her head up to look at the people around the table. She was distracted, seemingly lost.

“I said everything is delicious and lasagna is one of  Allison’s favorite food.” Bucky repeated his apparently previous words and Allison, who was sitting next to him, nodded her head in agreement.

“Oh well..” y/n tried to muster a smile while speaking. “I’m glad you like it.” Not knowing what else to say she turned her attention again to her almost untouched plate, fiddling with the fork in her hand.

A throat cleared discreetly next to her, and y/n turned her head to the left, eyes meeting Wanda’s.

“Are you okay?” The witch asked in a small voice, only for y/n to listen.

Y/n only hummed in response, knowing she couldn’t lie to the sokovian mind-reader and Wanda let it be.

The dinner passed without much excitement, only light chatter around the table and when they were all finished eating, they moved to the common areas, carrying the conversation there.

Y/n stayed behind with the excuse of cleaning up and Allison offered to help. After some polite arguing that she was a guest, it was decided that Bucky would help with the cleaning up and dishes.

When they were left alone at the sink,  y/n washing and Bucky drying the plates, glasses and cutlery in silence, Bucky decided he couldn’t bare the silence anymore.

He nudged her shoulder lightly to gain her attention and she turned her eyes to look at him in a questioning manner.

“You ok?” He asked hesitantly and she only nodded, not trusting her voice to speak up.

“Okay.”

The silence was disturbing. Bucky was feeling weirded out by it, yet y/n seemed unaffected, as if she was happy to not speak to him.

“So…” He broke the silence again, not one to resist the awkwardness. “What’d you think of Allison?”

His question caught her off guard, yet she tried to keep her composure, swallowing lightly before answering to him.

“She seems nice.” Her words were simple, but sincere nonetheless, and Bucky was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to say more, so y/n did, never one for turning him down.

“She’s sweet and polite.” Her voice was small, but easy. “And very pretty.”

At those last words Bucky smiled sweetly at her. “And what’s most important she seems to make you happy Buck.”

Y/n sighed silently, having finished speaking.

“She does.” Bucky agreed and y/n couldn’t help it but be happy for her best friend, no matter how much she was hurting inside her heart.

The rest of the work was done in silence, until Allison entered the kitchen to look for Bucky. “It’s actually getting late, baby. Will you take me home?” Her voice was smooth and sweet and the way the word baby slipped from her lips, was so natural, y/n could only find herself unwanted among both of them.

She cleared her throat and excused herself, making a quick way to the common room where the rest of the team was. However she didn’t miss Bucky’s next words, spoken with a sweet suggestiveness.

“Or maybe you could sleep here tonight…”

Y/n actually felt her heart break in her chest as she left the kitchen to join the others. It was over for her. She had lost Bucky and every chance of him loving her back, not that there was ever any to begin with.

The weeks passed despite the heartbreak and the pain y/n was feeling. She couldn’t stop the time even if she wanted. In the meantime she had thrown herself in endless missions, never catching a breath, never allowing herself more than one day of rest at the compound.

After that night when Bucky had brought Allison to the compound for the first time, she was there more and more, that is why y/n couldn’t bare to be at the compound anymore. Everywhere she moved Bucky would be there with his girlfriend, kissing or cuddling and it was like rubbing salt in the open wound in her chest.

The best option was to stay out of the compound, and what better way than to throw herself on endless missions, away from Bucky and away from his romance with another woman that wasn’t her.

It was a little after 2 in the morning when she opened the door to her room quietly, entering with slow and tired steps. Not turning on the light, the moonlight filtering through the curtains enough to help her see, Y/n threw the duffel bag on the floor at the corner of the room and headed to her bathroom to take a shower.

Almost 15 minutes later, after thoroughly washing her body and hair, she turned off the water and went back to her bedroom, with only a towel around her body and her hair dripping little droplets of water on the floor. She turned to her closet to take out some clean clothes to wear and was about to remove the towel from her body when she heard a throat clearing behind her back.

Startled, she kept a secure hold to the towel before turning around to meet the source of noise and to say that she was surprised to see Bucky sitting on her bed, is an understatement.

“Bucky, fuck!” She couldn’t help the curse that slipped past her lips. “You scared me!”

He got up and walked slowly towards her. “I’m sorry doll. I didn’t mean to.” He sounded tired, sleepy. She couldn’t place which it was.

“What do you want here? You should be asleep.”

He stopped in front of her, bodies mere centimeters away and his flesh hand moved to touch her cheek lightly. At the contact, her breath hitched and a shudder went down her spine. It had been so long since the last time she had been this close to Bucky, and it was affecting her, not in a good way.

“I heard the shower so I figured you must be back, I just came to check on you.” Now that her eyes were focused on his face, she could make out the dark circles under his eyes. Worry itched at her heart. She couldn’t bear to see him like that.

“Bucky, have you been sleeping well lately?” She asked, concern evident in her voice and Bucky couldn’t help but shake his head affectionately  at her question. She had just come back from a long week mission and she was worried about him. His sweet doll, always taking care of him.

“I’m okay.” He answered, despite it not being the right answer to her question. “Are you ok doll? Are you hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head no and he sighed in relief.

“I missed you.” He spoke quietly after a moment or so and y/n let out a shuddering breath at his words. She was suddenly aware of how exposed she was in front of him and her cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

“I should get dressed.” She whispered, trying to escape the closeness and the heat he was causing in her.

He only nodded and stepped back, moving to sit on her bed again. Clearly, he wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon.

Y/n quickly picked some clothes from her closet and moved back to the bathroom to get dressed. When she returned to the bedroom a few minutes later, she found Bucky laid down on the bed, waiting for her to join him.

She didn’t hesitate to do so, craving the softness of her own bed so badly, his presence was just a bonus at this point.

“What is going on Buck?” She asked him when she laid down beside him. He didn’t speak, just kept staring at her face, as if he was trying to memorize her features under the moonlight.

“You look tired.” She continued speaking when he didn’t. “Is everything okay? Where is Allison?” At the mention of her name, Bucky stiffened and averted his eyes from her face to anywhere else he could only to avoid her questioning look.

Her hand came up to rest on his neck, thumb lightly brushing against his jaw and Bucky let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Talk to me…” She pleaded, voice low and broken and that seemed to work for him, because he met her eyes again before speaking.

“She’s at her place. I haven’t been sleeping well these last few nights so I asked her to go to hers tonight.” He explained.

It was strange, Bucky knew. For the whole past month, especially the last week when y/n had been on her mission, he had trouble sleeping, nightmares disrupting his rest. He would wake up next to Allison, drenched in sweat and get up from the bed trying not to wake her up. The last night he had a nightmare though, he was thrashing and moving around while living in his sleep the terrors of a past life he was trying so desperately to forget.

Allison stirred awake from all that moving and thrashing and she tried to wake him up, calling his name to bring him out of the nightmare. When he woke up though, he did so with a shout of a name she wished she didn’t hear.

“Y/n!”

His eyes were open in an instant and he was hyperventilating, while Allison was terrified of his state. She tried to calm her beating heart before talking to him again.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke the words. “I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating but didn’t dare go close to her.

When his breathing evened out a little, he got up from the bed and took off his damp shirt.

“Go back to sleep.” He told her. “I’m going to head to the gym.”

He felt bad for lying to her but there was no way Bucky could tell to his girlfriend that he was going to sleep on y/n’s bed. He made his way to her room slowly and when he entered it, he didn’t hesitate to lay down in her bed, immediately his nose picking up her scent on her pillows and sheets.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, trying to imagine y/n close to him, helping him calm down from the nightmare he had, just like she had done a thousand times before.

Y/n kept stroking his skin gingerly with her fingertips, as if she was scared to hurt him. She couldn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to reply. Bucky nuzzled his face in her hand and closed his eyes.

“I missed you so much.” He repeated his words from earlier and kissed the palm of her hand. With her feather-light caresses he fell asleep shortly after, his breathing evening out and becoming steadier and deeper.

“I missed you too. So much.” She whispered back to him and let the sleep overcome her senses too.

Y/n knew Bucky would be out of her room before she woke up, just like he had done the last time he was there, so she prepared herself for that scenario. However, what she wasn’t prepared for, was waking up the next morning and finding herself trapped in his arms, her back to his chest, his face hidden behind her neck and his arms around her middle.

She felt him stir behind her body and unconsciously tighten his hold on her, mumbling incoherent words on her skin. It rose goosebumps all over her body and she couldn’t help but blush at the thoughts that were entering her mind.

She remembered though, that Bucky was still the man of another woman. Also, he had slept the entire time like a baby, never once stirring in his sleep in displeasure or pain. That made a smile bloom in y/n’s face.

She eased her mind and let herself fall asleep again in the comfort of Bucky’s arms, deciding she would worry about the other things later.

The next time they saw each other, it was a little more than a week later. Allison had returned to the tower a couple of more times, until tonight she decided to spend the night there with Bucky.

However, it all went to shit when he started having a nightmare, a little after midnight. His cries were loud and Allison was startled awake, but she couldn’t do anything to calm him down. She ran out of the room, knocking on the door next to her, calling out for help.

Y/n opened her door, half asleep, but was quickly on alert when she saw Allison scared and tired.

“He’s having another nightmare. Please, you can help him.” Her voice was shaking and y/n felt bad for the poor girl.

Without wasting another second she made a quick walk to Bucky’s room, only to be met with his still sleeping form, thrashing on the bed and crying out in agony.

She ran immediately to his bed. With a calm composure, she placed her hands gently on his shoulders, shaking him lightly and speaking softly to him.

“Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe. Please, wake up.” Her words were soothing and she kept repeating them, until he woke up with a start, looking frantically around the room until his eyes met her face, half hovering over him.

“Y/n.” His hands found their way to her waist, encircling behind her back and bringing her down on him in a hug.

“It’s okay Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe now. It’s over.” One of her hands was resting on his chest while the other moved up to his face, moving the hair from his face, then resting on his cheek.

Allison was watching them from the end of the bed. They were both so lost in each other, they had totally forgot about her presence in the room. It all seemed so natural between them, something she could never have with Bucky.

“Doll…” She heard Bucky’s voice call out for y/n and she knew there was no place there for her.

She softly cleared her throat and y/n was the first to turn around to meet her eye, looking embarrassed from the situation. She distanced herself from Bucky and tried getting up from the bed.

“I’m sorry.” She spoke quickly. “He’s awake now. I’m going to leave.”

But Allison only shook her head. She knew what had to be done. “No no, I’m the one who should go.” Her voice was calm and sincere, not an ounce of malice in her tone despite the hurt that was evident in her eyes.

Bucky got up from the bed and looked at her too. At least he had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, but Allison only smiled a sweet smile at him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t who you needed me to be.” Her words were rushed out before he could say anything. “I wish you both happiness. I truly do.”

With that she was out of the room and also out of their lives.

Y/n who was sitting now on the bed shifted awkwardly in her place.

“Are you okay?” She asked and Bucky could only nod in response. “I’m going back to my room then.” And without waiting for an answer from him, she left his room too, leaving Bucky alone with the aftermath of a nightmare and the weigh of his thoughts.

Allison had left, and rightfully so. Lately more than ever, he noticed he didn’t feel anything for her, at least not what a boyfriend should feel for his girlfriend. It was for the best. He didn’t want to lie to her and keep her hopes up with a failed relationship. She was an amazing woman who deserved so much more than him. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Y/n had also left. Now that was something he really had to think about. Y/n had been present in his nightmares almost every night since they came back to him, and only now could he see maybe that was a way of his unconsciousness warning him to do something about it before he lost her for real.

He didn’t know why though. Y/n was his friend. His best friend. Had been so for years now, so why would he feel the fear of having her slip away from his grasp? Suddenly the realization hit him like a wall of bricks.

It was like a window was opened in a dark room and all the light was finally inside, showing him what he had been missing all this time.

Now he knew why she was the only one who could make him feel happy when he was sad or upset. Why she could soothe his pain with the faintest of touches of her fingers, why she made him feel at peace, day and night. He finally knew what was that nagging feeling he got every time he saw Steve close to her and what were those butterflies in his stomach whenever he was close to her. His eyes fluttered close for a millisecond, allowing himself to absorb all this newfound information, then he got up from his bed quickly, sprinting to her room.

Without even knocking, he opened her door and found her laying down, silently sniffling with he head under the blanket.

When she heard the door open she picked her head up to look at him. “Bucky what are you doing here?” Her voice was hoarse and her eyes were red and puffy from the crying. Bucky hated himself for doing this to her.

He had done it for at least the last 5 months while he was with Allison, and he had done it before when he was an oblivious little shit towards her feelings.

He didn’t answer with words but decided to speak with actions for at least once in his life. He got in the bed with her, laid down beside her and collected her in his arms, cuddling her close to his body.

She picked her head up to meet his eyes. “Bucky?” She spoke his name in barely a whisper and he only looked at her face with adoration.

How could he not see it all this time?

“Y/n.” His voice was smooth, almost dreamy and she couldn’t believe he was there with her.

“Hmm..”

“I love you.”

Those three words were said with the most certainty he could ever possess.

Y/n blinked in disbelief once, twice, before he decided to put her out of her misery and slam his mouth on hers with a passionate kiss.

As their lips molded together as if they were perfectly made for each other, Bucky kept asking himself why he had wasted all this time away from her.

Their kiss grew deeper and he positioned her body on top of his, his hands resting on her waist, just feeling the exposed skin from the high ridden shirt.

When the need for oxygen became too much, they stopped kissing, but neither moved away from the other, foreheads resting against each other. Y/n was still dumbstruck from the kiss, she couldn’t bring herself to mutter out a single word. That’s why Bucky resumed speaking again.

“I’m sorry for everything, for every time I hurt you. Y/n, I know I don’t deserve you but I love you.” He spoke in a breathless manner. “I love you so much and I’ll be damned if I ever let you go.”

When she still didn’t speak, he was starting to grow a little worried. “This is the time you say something doll. Anything would do.”

She finally chuckled in response at his last words and decided to not ruin the moment with any word she might want to say, so she kissed him again. This time it was her who was in control of the kiss and Bucky was left once again breathless when she pulled away from him.

“Huh?” He let out in a short amazed breath.

“Well you were the one who said anything would do.” Y/n spoke up playfully and he pinched playfully at her waist, capturing her lips once again in a heated kiss.

Sure, they had a lot to talk about, but all of that had to wait for tomorrow, because tonight the only plan was to smother one another in kisses that were due forever ago.

[ola-elaina]

Hellllo! A request of comfort Peter when reader is sad? Any scenario you want just a good ole comfort Peter🥺

STARRY NIGHT

Summary: peter brings y/n for some stargazing

Word Count: 1.3k

"Where are we going, Peter?"

"Just trust me, okay?"

You nodded but hesitance still evident in your eyes. Peter sighed, moving closer to you. The cold wind of the night blew past the two of you as you stand in the rooftop of your apartment building. He took the strand of hair that covered your face and tucked it behind your ear.

It's been two months since you last went to school.

The bags under your eyes showed how much sleep you have gotten, or lack thereof. The last time Peter or any of your friends have seen you was at the funeral. Whenever they tried to contact you, your response would only be short, blatantly dismissing them. Sometimes not even bothering to respond at all.

They understood what you're feeling. And if anybody can really feel what you were going through, it's Peter. He has lost numerous significant people in his life and he can vouch that it's not easy to lose someone dearly close.

Your friends knew you were strong and that you were capable of getting through your grief. They have given you all the space you asked for. But if they let you fall deeper into the pit of sorrow for longer, you're going to have a difficult time coming back up.

So, Peter came up with something to make you slightly better. He knew it would not suddenly turn you back to the bubbly Y/N he knew but it could be one step towards progress.

"Hold on tight." Peter muttered softly as he wrapped your arms around his neck, one of his arms holding you against him securely, pulling down his mask to cover his face.

Peter shot his web at the opposite building swinging the both of you through the bustling city. Your legs wrapped tighter around his torso when you felt him jump off your rooftop. The wind becomes colder as it hits your exposed skin, goosebumps covering your body.

As Peter swung through the busy street of Queens, he heard you whimpered against his shoulder.

"It's okay, it's okay." He repeated, giving your waist a comforting squeeze.

"Don't drop me." You whispered, making him chuckle.

"I won't. Don't look down." He recalled how easily sick you get when he tried to swing you back to your apartment a couple times. "We'll be there in no time."

You buried your face deeper on his shoulder.

A couple minutes later, you felt him touch solid ground when he walked a couple steps. "We're here." Looking up, you saw that it was a grassy cliff, looking over the river.

You looked around, it was quite far from the city as the towering buildings were seen at a distance -- the stars now visible. There weren't a lot of them but make out a few of them.

A smile breaking out of your face, for the first time after months. And you didn't even realize. Peter felt like giving himself a pat on the back.

He took the advantage of you being distracted to make a hammock made from webs — since he forgot to bring a blanket, it'll do.

Once he's finished, he clears his throat to catch your attention. He pressed the symbol of his suit in the middle of his chest, retracting it. He's now wearing some hoodie and pants. Peter moved aside, showing you a hammock he built.

"Do you... want to lie down? So you can see the stars better?"

You gave him a smile, nodding your head 'yes'. He leaped on the hammock, offering a hand to help you up. Once the both of you were up there, he spread his left arm, letting you use his open arm as a pillow and snuggle to his side.

Peter pushed his feet a couple times to make the hammock rock back and forth. The two of you stayed like that for God knows how long. Letting the breeze past by, the shining stars hang above your heads and the warmth presence of each other keeping yourselves comfortable.

"Gummy worm?" He offered.

You took one, your cold fingers brushing with his warm ones. "How did you find this place?"

"I was patrolling one night. Didn't notice I was getting a little too far from the city then I found this place."

"It's beautiful." You mumbled.

Peter nodded, humming, tangling his fingers with yours.

"I come here once in a while. To clear my head."

After locking yourself in your room, refusing to see anybody. Peter didn't have anywhere to go after patrolling. Usually, the two of you would meet up at the rooftop of your apartment building — exchanging stories , doing homework or just enjoying each other's company.

This is where we went to the past couple weeks.

Peter knew how much you loved stars. He helped you hang fairy lights at your balcony and stick some glow in the dark stars in the ceiling of your room one time because you missed seeing real ones.

"My brother and I—”You paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

Peter squeezed your hand comfortingly.

Letting out a shaky breath, you shook your head. "Every saturday, he would take me out of the city to see the stars. He would do it every single time. To not fail." The memory made your eyes water.

"He would bring telescopes and teach me the names and the history behind it. We would talk about them for hours until our mom calls to remind us to go home." You chuckled through the heavy feeling building up on your chest.

It was the first time you have talked about your brother after he passed. When people tried to, you would immediately look away, even your parents.

"After he died, I couldn't even look at the stars on my ceiling, the fairy lights in the balcony or the photos and sketches of stars we made that are sticked to our shared cork board." You confessed.

"I couldn't look at them the same." You looked up at Peter's eyes, letting the tears in your eyes fall unashamedly. "They reminded me of him, it reminded me that he was gone and that I'll never be able to look up at the stars with him again."

Peter caged you in his arms, allowing you to sob in his chest.

"How do you do it, Peter?" You asked. "How can you be so strong after everything you went through? It hurts. It's been months and the pain still felt like it only happened yesterday. How do you get through that?"

"You don't." He whispered, tightening his arms around you. "You learn to live with it. It won't be easy. It won't happen suddenly. It's still a long way but you'll be able to. You're strong, Y/N. I believe that, your parents believe that, and I'm sure your brother does too."

"My uncle Ben used to tell me that people become stars when they die." He continued, making you look at the dark sky littered with stars. Peter reached down in his hoodie pocket, grabbing a piece of paper.

Wiping your eyes, you sat up slightly, he followed. He looked down at it before fixing his eyes with yours.

"I had to pull some serious strings for this one. But I—” You watched him curiously as he held the paper out to you. "Do you see that star over there?"

He pointed up at the bright shining star, you nodded. He motioned to the paper you were holding as if saying 'read it'. When you did, you realized what was printed on it.

It was a certificate, naming a star after your brother. It had his full name printed at the center.

The sweet gesture made your heart feel like it swelled twice its size, more tears started to spill from your eyes. Your fingers trembled as you run them on the letters that spelled out your brother's name.

Peter reached your tear-covered face, wiping them away with his thumbs. "They may not be physically with us anymore. But they're not completely gone. They're up there. In the sky, watching us from above."

thanks for reading!

a/n: sorry for the delay with requests. tags were acting funny these past couple weeks so i’m only able to put the ones i already wrote right now + some of them i haven’t even made yet bc i’m not really in the headspace to write at the noment :(

taglists open! message me if anybody wants to be added <3

peter parker taglist:

@starlight-starks

@awesomebooklover17

permanent taglist:

@dummiesshort

@ladykxxx08

[demonologist-in-denim]

Humming to himself, Crowley dusted the rich dark cocoa powder into the soft white flour, and reached for his trusty wooden spoon. Blending ingredients in a mixer tended to create a smoother batter, but Crowley enjoyed the feel of the spoon in his hand, the sound it made scraping the bottom of the bowl, the hands-on experience of turning flour and sugar and eggs into cake.

When the dry ingredients were properly combined, he made a well in the center and carefully poured in the buttermilk, eggs, butter and vanilla. Instead of the usual red food coloring, Crowley added in fresh beet puree – just enough to give the cake a velvety ruby hue. The rich cocoa would cover the hint of earth with a delicate chocolate flavor. The mixture was then evening distributed between three pans and scooched into the oven.

While the cakes baked, he set to work on the frosting. The softened cream cheese and unsalted butter whipped together beautifully. He settled on using far less powdered sugar than the recipe called for, wanting the tangy sweetness of the cream cheese to accent the cake all on its own.

“Would have asked about any preferences in decoration,” Crowley muttered to himself as he applied the crumb coating to the cake, once it was done baking and properly cooled, “but that would have tipped my hand.” Simple yet elegant seemed appropriate. After applying a thick final layer of cream cheese frosting, Crowley piped fluffy buttercream swirls along the rim of the red velvet cake. A soft pile of crumbled extra cake crowned the top, and he tossed more along the side to create a dusting effect.

There was nothing left now except to take the photo.

Which, as fate would have it, turned out to be the difficult part.

He positioned the cake on the kitchen table, and snapped a few photos. Crowley hmmmed to himself.  It wasn’t quite up to his standard of food porn. Perhaps he’d take a few more, just to be on the safe side. Until one was suitably flattering. He was still adjusting the cake, playing with the proper angle and lighting for the perfect shot, when Sam and Dean strolled into the kitchen.

For a moment, they lingered at a respectful distance. But Crowley could sense their curiosity like a gathering storm of rose petals, soft yet burdensome.

“Can I help you two with something?”

Disbelief and delight were tugging a one-sided smile out of Sam. “Is – is that for Valentine’s Day?”

Valentine’s Day? Crowley narrowed his eyes at the elegant dessert. Bloody hell, the cake was red and white, wasn’t it? He hadn’t considered that when a bit of carefully applied questioning had disclosed the recipient’s cake preferences.

Crowley mulled the situation over. He couldn’t answer in the affirmative. That would mean he had intentionally crafted the cake as a celebration of gushy hearts and the sweet delirium of – internally, Crowley cringed – love. But he also couldn’t reply with a defensive and definitive “no”. That would only open him up to further, unwelcome inquiry.

He settled for the more characteristically dismissive third option.

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” Crowley steadfastly went back to attempting to capture the perfect photo with his phone. “I don’t bother myself keeping track of that sort of thing.”

Dean eyed the demon knowingly. “Yeah, well, our Netflix recommendations would say otherwise.”

Crowley glowered at the hunter.

“Whatever the occasion,” Sam offered up as his brother idled over to the cake, “that’s professional-grade baking. You’ve got a real talent. The frosting, the whole look? Seriously, I’m impressed.”

The arrow of this flannelled cupid hit its mark. Crowley felt a slight blush of pleasure, despite himself. Casual, unsolicited praise? From Sam Winchester? He seriously contemplated the possibility that Sam had been exposed to some sort of low-grade, poorly-concocted love spell that had bloomed into amiability, or maybe it had been released as a pink mist in the bunker’s common room, and Crowley had unknowingly avoided the worst of it. That seemed like the sort of malarkey that would happen around here on what, apparently, was Valentine’s Day.

Because Crowley found himself saying, “Thank you, Sam,” with actual sincerity. Moments such as these reminded Crowley that he was rather fond of these two boys, after all.

That was the moment Dean ran his finger along the edge of the cake, carrying off a large dollop of frosting from one side. The whole cake just looked so enticing! Dean was more of a pie man himself, but Crowley’s culinary expertise had the tendency to tempt him in surprising ways.

He was halfway to lifting the frosting-festooned finger to his mouth when he caught sight of the expression on Crowley’s face. Sam’s own face was a rotting lemon. Dean’s hand stilled, mouth still open.

“Um,” he muttered.

Dean looked at the offending finger, uncertain of what to do next. He started to put the frosting back where it belonged, thought better of it, looked for a napkin, and reluctantly settled for ashamedly completing the crime by depositing the frosting in his mouth.

Which was a mistake. Because now he knew the cake was friggin’ delicious, and Dean seriously wondered if maybe Crowley could manage his little photo shoot even if there was a slice of the cake missing.

As if he could read his brother’s mind, Sam shook his head in the most supreme disappointment. “Dean.”

“What?! Sorry!”

Reminding himself that murdering one Winchester brother would only end with him being ganked by the other one – though there were certainly times it seemed worth it – Crowley took a deep inhalation, and let it go. Cakes were ultimately meant to be eaten, even if it was by inconsiderate louts and lumberjacks.

“I’ll accept your apology, if you cut everyone else a slice before digging in yourself. I’m sure one of the photos I took before your little indiscretion will suffice.”

“Alright! Cake!” Dean cheered, while Sam just closed his eyes.

Crowley thumbed through the multitude of pictures he’d taken, and settled on the most appealing of the lot. Then he opened up his Bumblr app, and made a new post:

@petrichoravellichor – in honor of your birthday today. Heard from a mutual that you have a particular fondness for red velvet cake. Hope it’s to your liking. – C

He sent the message and image off with a satisfied smile, then set about getting plates and forks, as this cake was obviously not going to survive the interest of the Winchester brothers much longer.

As Crowley was pulling plates out of the cupboard and Dean was cutting into the cake, Castiel wandered into the kitchen, attention entirely given over to his phone. The angel had graduated from texting and emojis to social media and memes, and sometimes he could be found scrolling through Twitter and Instagram with a rapt fascination that would out-fixate even the most plugged-in FOMO-obsessed teenager. There was a chiming sound as he entered the kitchen, as notification of a new post.

“Dude,” Dean was grinning from ear to ear, “Crowley made cake!” He pointed with delight at the dessert.

Cas looked up from his phone, saw the cake, and halted in the middle of the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes, examining the red velvet cake on the table in front of him. Then he looked back down at his phone in consternation. Cas looked at the cake again. Looked back at his phone, and then slowly, he looked at Crowley.

The demon looked from the angel to the cake, his eyes increasing in size as realization dawned.

“Is that – ?”

“Don’t you say one bloody word, angel!” Crowley blustered, a rush of red to his face further colored by the mortification of such abject exposure. “Not one word!”

And before anyone could say anything else, Crowley shoveled a huge slice of not-at-all birthday cake onto a plate, shoved it into Cas’ hand, and quickly excused himself from the kitchen.

“What,” Sam wondered to the startled room, “was that all about?”

Cas continued to stand in the middle of the room, cake in one hand and phone in the other, attempting to come to terms with having inadvertently discovered a fandom mutual was also a real-life friend, and the one he would have least expected. Unsettled, he took comfort in the certainty their shared mutual would appreciate the well wishes on their birthday.

Dean shrugged, merrily flipped the serving knife in his hand, then waved the tip at his brother. “That’s Crowley for you,” he observed, good mood undeterred. “Dude would cut out his own heart and blend it to make red cake batter before admitting to it, but deep down, he’s just a big ol’ teddy bear who wuvs hugs. Speaking of which – you see that giant pink moose Eileen sent you? Friggin’ adorable.”

Dean proceeded to cut a huge slice for himself, leaving a worried looking Sam staring down at the blood-red cake. Then the hunter stepped around a disconcerted Castiel, patting the angel on the shoulder, and strolled out of the kitchen.

***

Happy birthday, Petra! I’m sure you’re tired of your birthday comingling with Valentine’s Day, but when you said your cake preference was red velvet cake, what was I to do? ;)

If you’re wondering exactly why – or even how – Crowley became a member of the in-world spn fandom, you can find out here. This fic will be posted on AO3 in my Tumblr Ficlets after posting on Tumblr.

Image sources here: X

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies: Chapter Three

Okaaaay I am so fucking sorry it's been awhile, you guys. But you're not here for my life story and personal bullshit, I'm sure (though please do feel free to ask). So here's chapter three. Enjoy... I hope?

Thank you, as always, to @edward-or-ford for being an excellent beta!

Chapter Three: Sex on the Brain Feel you under my skin; middle of the night, wonder if you feel it, too.- All Time Low, Trouble Is

There was a warm body atop Mabel’s, and lips pressed against hers. There were hands grasping her breasts, then one of them traveled down between her legs.

“Mabel,” gasped a voice as the lips traveled down her neck. A pleasant voice. Deep, but not alarmingly so. It was soothing, familiar. Comforting and arousing all at the same time.

One hand pinched her nipple while the other stroked her, and she gasped out quietly.

When she opened her eyes, Dipper leaned down to kiss her again, and-

Mabel woke with a start, disorientated. Her eyes flitted around the dark room, and she remembered she was at Candy’s. Recognizing Grenda’s sleeping form on the floor and Candy’s even breaths beside her, Mabel sighed quietly.

Well. That was certainly disappointing. Those types of dreams were the worst because she hated waking up from them.

She hadn’t always had so many sex dreams. It was a recent development. And frankly, she wasn’t a fan. Yeah, Dipper was sexy, but like. She knew that already. She didn’t need her subconscious waving a big ol’ flag with “REMEMBER HOW SEXY YOUR BRO IS?” emblazoned on it. She could do without that, thanks ever so much.

It was half an hour before she managed to fall back asleep. She definitely didn’t fill her friends in on the details the next day, even though she probably would’ve if the dream had been about literally anybody except her twin brother.

She was quite sure that when Grenda and Candy thought of “sexy” vibes in relation to Mabel, Dipper was the last person on the face of the earth who might be considered for such things.

————

The following morning, Mabel tried her absolute hardest to seem as normal as she possibly could. Y’know, talk without changes in her voice or tone or speech pattern. Gesticulate some but not too much. Talk about non-Dipper things. Definitely not because Mabel was having a great deal of difficulty thinking about anything but Dipper and what his lips and hands and teeth (oh god his teeth) would feel like on various parts of her body. That had zero to do with it.

Of course, normal for Mabel was… odd for other people, to say the least. And that suited her just fine. Really, it did. She rather liked it that way, actually. Normal people were kinda lame.

Still, there were, of course, some aspects of Mabel’s life that she sometimes wished were a bit more normal, she pondered as she brushed her hair in the bathroom mirror. Not entirely, just a bit. She wished she didn’t have to live separately from her sibling. She wished she’d found her soulmate the same way as everyone else rather than having it be a big mystery.

But most all, she wished she’d never developed these stupid feelings for Dipper. They really were stupid. Who gets feelings for their twin, anyway? Like, where did that even come from?

When Mabel thinks of the word “incest”, she pictures royal families trying to keep the bloodlines pure and stereotypical hillbillies and rednecks. What she did not picture was a modern day middle class Californian teenager.

Not that it had gotten to incest levels, of course. Obviously not. In order for anything to happen, Dipper would have to return her feelings, which he decidedly did not. Why would he?

You’re the weirdo, she reminded herself as she set her hairbrush down.

Well. It is what it is, she supposed. No reason to dwell on it.

And on that note, Mabel skipped out of the bathroom, doing a rather excellent job of pretending she was definitely not dwelling on her romantic-but-very-much-unrequited love for her brother.

Not even a little.

————

They didn’t ride in the same car. Of course they didn’t. They never did. She knew, intellectually speaking, that her and Dipper couldn’t be in the same car for the half hour drive from Candy’s to the mountains. Even five minute drives, though, her parents refused.

“What if you get stuck in traffic?” They’d demand whenever she asked if just once, Dipper could take her in his car. It didn’t seem to make a difference that the odds of a traffic jam in a town as small as Gravity Falls were minuscule at best. Eventually, she stopped asking, stopped trying to reason with them.

She wished she could text him during the drive. She couldn’t stop staring at his last message. She didn’t mean to, it was just that she sometimes got into these moods where whenever she stopped looking at his texts, she’d immediately get the irresistible urge to look at them again, even if she knew full well that all she’d see was the fifteen minute old see you in a bit.

Mabel felt bad about the whole thing sometimes. It wasn’t that she’d meant to fall in love. She truly hadn’t. But… Dipper was just so goddamn sweet. He was considerate and kind and he always asked about her day. And when she told him, he actually listened! None of the guys at her school ever did that. They just stared at her boobs while she talked.

It was suuuuuuuper guilt-inducing, though. Like, somewhere near her (it had to be near her or she’d have been going through withdrawal symptoms all her life) was her soulmate. Emotionally healthy people developed crushes on their soulmates even before they turned seventeen and felt the pull.

Evidently, Mabel wasn’t an emotionally healthy person. She’d developed a crush on her twin brother. And then it had developed into this suffocating, desperate, agonizing, all-encompassing consuming love and adoration that she just couldn’t seem to shake.

It was hard not to see him, she mused as she stared at her phone (still black because he hadn’t texted her, obviously; get a grip, Mabel). But then, it was just as hard to actually see him. The urge to touch him was even worse lately.

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, Mabel stared out the window.

She completely missed her father’s solemn gaze flickering to her briefly in the rear view mirror.

————

Mabel liked visiting Gravity Falls in the winter. She probably wouldn’t get to see snow otherwise. It was beautiful.

It had snowed in the mountains the night before, and there was frost on the ground and snow on the tops of the trees, the sun bouncing off them and making them shine. The cold air bit her face when she opened the car door, but Dipper’s smile in her direction as he stepped out of his own beat-up sedan made her forget about everything else.

Buzz buzz buzz, said the bees.

Mabel resisted the urge to dance when she saw him.

Or slap her stomach a few times. Maybe the sting of it would numb the stupid fucking bees and their stupid fucking buzzing, for god’s sake, would you shut up already-

She did neither, however (good job, Mabel girl!), instead opting for a definitely-not-nervous-in-the-slightest-so-just-shut-your-mouth smile.

“Why hello, Sir Dippingsauce!” She ambled over to him, telling herself she was doing an excellent job of not being awkward.

How long did she have to keep that up for again? A week? That was… that was fine. She could do a week. She could totally do a week, no problemo (Note: Mabel could not do a week. She could possibly do 2.5 days, and even that was most certainly pushing it, but to suggest as much is incredibly rude, as Mabel was doing her very best to make her mind into a 100% Doubt-Free Zone™).

He put an arm across his stomach, the other rigid at his side, and bowed deeply at the waist with a decidedly snooty expression on his too-attractive-to-be-legal face. “Lady Mabelton,” he greeted. “I trust your carriage ride was pleasant?”

“Indeed, milord. You may rise,” she lifted her hand in a dainty gesture, her nose (which was red from the cold) in the air. He did, grinning. “So, what d’you have planned for me n’ the ‘rents today?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Just a fun little nature walk, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

Mabel shot him double finger guns. “Coolio, bro-lio.”

Their parents were just climbing out of the car. They always took forever. Why did people over the age of twenty-eight always take forever to emerge from a vehicle?

Mabel fiddled with the empty space her right forefinger left in gloves she wore. Gloves were always too big for her as far as finger-length went.

“Soooooo…” she drawled as her parents rounded their car. “Lesgo!”

Running off in a totally random direction, she skidded to a halt at the edge of a clearing. “Yeeeah… might wanna let me lead the way, Mabes. I know my way around pretty well, since I... y’know... live here,” Dipper said with another one of those heart-stopping grins.

Ugh.

Suddenly feeling tremendously uncomfortable again, Mabel laughed awkwardly. “Indeed you do, bro-bro. Indeed you do.” Chill chill chill it’s fine, it’s fine, totally fine up in here.

Dipper walked around Mabel and started down a winding gravel path, definitely neglecting to give her anything that could remotely be classified as “enough space to not have a heart attack”. She followed behind him after several seconds, trying very hard not to stare at his butt.

Again. Dammit.

Mrs. Pines even scolded him a bit. “Careful not touch your sister, Dipper!”

Her voice carried through the trees, and Dipper called out a quick, “kay,” over his shoulder before continuing on. It had been perhaps five minutes. Ten, maybe? Who knew? Time lost meaning when she stared at Dipper too long, and he was walking directly ahead of her. Besides, she had to pay attention to where he was going! She couldn’t really be blamed for staring at him, right?

The path widened significantly after awhile, allowing Dipper to fall back a bit, frosted gravel crunching beneath his sneakers.

“Is it okay if we walk ahead of you, Dipper?” Mr. Pines asked. “Your mother and I would like to look at the scenery a bit more clearly than we can behind you and your sister.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty straightforward from here.”

Mr. and Mrs. Pines smiled at him and stepped around him, Mr. Pines patting Dipper’s shoulder affectionately as he walked past.

Dipper fell into step beside Mabel, walking in silence. Mabel inspected her shoes. Some of the frost had gotten on the rhinestones she’d glued to them.

Glancing up in front of her after several minutes, she noticed that their parents had gotten further and further away, far out of earshot.

For the first time in as long as Mabel could remember, they didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to her and Dipper’s interactions.

Blushing furiously at the very idea of being alone with her twin, she looked down at her shoes again. Thank god for the cold. Nobody would question her red face in the cold.

“So,” Dipper said haltingly. Mabel’s head whipped up to face him, her eyes wide. She hadn’t really been expecting him to actually speak, but then she couldn’t very well have not expected it, either. It had just… never occurred to her that he might.

“So?” Mabel said back. Don’t be awkward don’t be awkward don’t be awkward-

“Well, there’s this… thing.”

“Very specific,” Mabel nodded indulgently. “Say no more, brother dear. I know of what you speak.”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Y-you do?” He stuttered.

Mabel snorted. “Uh, no. Doi. Why would I know?”

He blinked at her. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Guess you… probably wouldn’t, huh?” He looked away and muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” She asked, pushing her hair back behind the ear closest to him, some of the strands catching on her glove.

“Oh, uh. Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Mm...kay?” When he didn’t say anything, just kept staring at her, she spoke up again. “What were you gonna tell me?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah. That. Right.”

“Right. That,” Mabel agreed with a nod, as if she had the slightest idea what he was talking about (note: she did not, in fact, have the slightest idea what he was talking about).

“So, there’s this thing,” Dipper said again.

“Right,” Mabel repeated.

“This thing… that I’ve been kinda meaning to tell you for… well,” he laughed hoarsely. She’d never heard him laugh like that before. “For a few years, actually.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Errhm. Okay. What is it?”

“Okay, so it’s like this,” he started, then stopped and looked up at the sky. “Why me?” He muttered, so quiet she almost didn’t hear him again.

“Okay, Dip, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

He sighed and stopped walking. So did she. His eyes were closed, which was probably a good thing because they really were terribly distracting and whatever he had to tell her seemed pretty important. He turned his face to her again, opening them, something… different in them. Something she’d never seen before. Something she didn’t recognize.

Something urgent and terrifying and nerve-wracking in a way she didn’t entirely understand, and then-

“Kids!” Her dad called out, both parents jogging over to them. Well, okay, it was more like running. Why would they be running? They hadn’t been that far behind, yeesh.

“Shit,” Dipper muttered again, and Mabel turned to him in surprise. He’d tried to talk to her before, too. Before she’d left for Candy’s. Why? What was going on? Was he sick? If he was sick, why couldn’t he tell their parents? Oh god, what if he’d gotten an STD? What if he’d gotten somebody pregnant? No, wait, pregnancy didn’t last “a few years”, which he had said very clearly, so not that. Oh, fuckity fucking fuck, what if he’d found his soulmate?

“What’re you guys talkin’ about?” Their mom asked with a smile that was a bit too tight and didn’t reach her eyes.

Dipper shrugged. “School and whatnot. Just catching up.”

Mabel didn’t understand why he was lying, but, well. Mabel Pines ain’t no snitch, so she nodded and said, “yeppers yeppers Johnny Deppers! The usual, y’know.”

Mr. Pines inclined his head. Mrs. Pines was clasping his hand.

Her knuckles were white.

Their parents didn’t let their children out of their sight for the remainder of the hike.

Mabel could barely speak. She couldn’t even think much of anything.

What if he’d found his soulmate?

The bees never shut up, either.