#i still intend to do a fluffy holiday post but who knows

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Stephanie Brown had no idea how her life got THIS ridiculous. No screw that. She had a very clear idea: as always it's a mix of Gotham being the worst and her dad existing in her general vicinity. A horrible terrible mix. 

Now normally Christmas isn't all that bad. Her useless father likes to spend the holidays plotting and robbing because according to him "no one is expecting crime" or some equally boring clichê (that is increasingly untrue as Batman is chronically incapable of taking a day off) . That means Christmas Eve in the Brown household is usually spent with her and her mom exchanging gifts with their small poor decorated three and watching Die Hard while eating chinese. Two years ago making sure her dad would spend the morning on Blackgate entered as another tradition. Overall great times. 

That was until her dad in all his stupidity decided to invite Riddler to move on with them. How he even met an A lister was beyond Stephanie compreheension (his only call to fame was the fact that even though Spoiler grew to actually fight serius rogues she still always took a time to fuck him over but most heros still dealt with D-Listers, so did it even meant anything?). 

Now the idea of having Nygma for Christmas was terrifying. But he seemed to have already got the memo and stayed the hell out of Stephanie's way unless her dad was forcing them into a family dinner or some other uncomfortable bullshit so she still had hope he would just fuck of for the hollydays and come back never as he never stayed when Arthur was in jail even though (for some unknow reason) her mother actually appeared to want him to. Her hope lasted until her dad loudly announced he would actually stay home for Christmas this year and they would do something special. Now Stephanie wasn't a fool she knew that this sudden change of heart was Arthur Brown trying to impress. She had no idea of why her dad wanted to impress Nygma so much but since Riddler moved he went out of his way to show to him his perfect little family (and to include the other villain in it as well). She was expecting Riddler to answer with the same fake enthusiasm he always did (the one that let very clear to anyone not called Arthur Brown that he really was only there out of necessity and the whole perfect family thing creeped him out, while she was never going to admit it that actually gave Steph some small modicum of respect for him, he really appeared to consider that as much a torture as she did) instead he looked almost relieved before saying:

"I'm so sorry, but I don't really celebrate Christmas." 

Now if Steph was the one controlling the conversation it would have ended there. No point in doing a Christmas anything, he would fuck off, without a Riddler to impress her dad would go fail at being a criminal and her and her mom would have their little tradition. Peace established, everything is fine. Unfortunately she did not control anything that happened in that family because Crystal Brown, her only ally, decided to be a fucking traitor. 

"I do think you should give it a chance, Edward, the food is going to be delicious and we can watch movies afterwards."

"Tempting as it may be." He may fool her parents but Steph could easily read in his tone that it wasn't tempting at all. "I'll have to pass. I have a small tradition of skipping the whole thing altogether and just watching horror movies with the girls and I already confirmed." 

"You can invite the girls as well." Arthur said. Oh hell no, Steph thought, the last time Riddler's infamous henchgirls had been in the same space as Cluemaster it had been a total disaster including her dad's failed attempts at what she could only guess was flirting. Unfortunately she couldn't point it out as it was Spoiler who had to witness that particular brand of torture. "We can even go to church"

The word church gave Riddler an involuntary shudder and Stephanie couldn't avoid the image of him burning the moment his feet touched any form of holy territory. A little bit relatable sadly. 

"I'm jewish, Arthur." Nygma said. Stephanie had no clue if he was lying or not. "Or at least my mother was." 

"Oh stop with the excuses!" Her dad exclaimed impatiently and slightly offended. Riddler looked a mix of uncomfortable and confused. "I know for a fact the old bitch was irish." 

What? 

Steph wanted to laugh but also to scream in exasperation. She had watched the tapes of her dad's old show, heard the stories, he used to be someone, to be smart and now here he was saying one of the dumbest shit she ever heard. Her mother seemed to be dealing with a similar train of thought as she switched between looking sadly at Arthur and apologetic at Nygma. The last seemed to be trying really hard to not snap at Arthur.

"One can be both." He settled for and even with his massive effort it still sounded very snappy. "There are jewish people in Ireland, Arthur."  

Her dad pathetically looked around for back up. Steph answered with a vegentfull smille. He looked back at Nygma being defeated (only her dad to lose at a game where he was the only player, Stephanie concluded bitterly).Then a sudden moment of brilliancy. Or better put he had an idea that would likely be very dumb.

"Weren't you an atheist,  Eddie?"

Riddler gave a deep breath. "Yes. I'm only ethnically jewish, but it's still part of the reason I don't do Christmas and so I found it relevant to point out." He stopped for a second and followed with an almost imperceptible irony "I'm sorry if it didn't sound genuine." 

Her dad looked defeated again and a little confused. But he soon was smiling as another thing crossed his mind."No need to apologize, Eddie boy!" Her dad gave a friendly loud slap into Riddler's back making the ginger yelp and look even more uncomfortable."No church going then, still I must insist for the rest of the celebration after all it's still a time to spend with family, I'm sure the girls will understand."

"I say that with the utmost respect, Arthur." He was sounding so sarcastic how on Earth weren't her parents getting that? At this point Stephanie was sure Nygma was going to kill her dad the moment he didn't need the Browns anymore and a huge part of her could only consider it a good riddance,  even better if it landed the Riddler on Arkham afterwards. "But the girls are my family." The and you isn't was not said but was heavily implied. To the point her dad seemed to get it for once.

"That 's funny. I always thought family helped each other." Since when? Because he sure as hell never helped her or her mother at anything ever. Au contraire he made their life so much worse. "But here you are needing a place and your girls are sure as heck not offering it." 

Great. If there was something that bothered Stephanie more than the fact her mother seemed to genuinely like the presence of one of the major members of Batman's Rogues gallery was that her dad seemed to go over  his way to get it, between the not even a little bit subtle threats, the weird fact he was in charge of Nygma's medication somehow and Stephanie increasing suspicion that he was maintaining Riddler's accounts froze somehow just so he stayed for longer Stephanie almost felt sorry for the guy. Her dad really seemed like a weird blackhole that keeps everyone tied to it. That's to say that Nygma straight up flinched at the comment and Stephanie knew her dad had won. Way to ruin Christmas for everyone. She didn't bother to hear the rest of the conversation. Instead she went to her room, decided that whatever the fuck was stopping Nygma from accessing his accounts she was fixing it before the two of them had to suffer through each other presence in another hellish Christmas Eve.

[theroundbartable]

Perhaps this is normal but recently I feel a reoccuring sense of dread whenever I think about the future. Or any of the things in my life really.

This is a vent post. I always feel better after writing out my feelings.

I haven't found a job yet and I'm not sure if becoming a teacher is actually the best thing for me to aspire to be, I left the job I liked and the uni that had the classes I liked because of my fear of missing out and my insecureity of being able to do it by myself. It's not just that but the other stuff I rather not write out explicitly.

I felt like I was getting closer with my friends lately again, but now that the holidays are over and they all were in such a bad mood, I feel selfish for having ignored that so that I could enjoy the one day that I had insisted on planning, and even more so for leaving them after getting home because their bad mood affected me too much. I didn't help out much either because I know it annoys them when I ask what to do and I feel like I'm in the way when I simply do. (Or risk getting yelled at, like on our last Trip)

I was the only one who didn't have a bad day during this trip and yet I feel so exhausted afterwards. I feel like I'm constantly regretting everything I felt or said or did. Like, I'm going way out of my comfort zone and it's still not enough. People were complaining to me about each other and somehow I feel like I'm the one at fault.

I went home to deal with that but then I got a rejection letter from the Job application I filed last week and now I feel worse than insecure. I feel incapable. I feel like I keep making mistakes, like I'm trapping myself in a life I'm not sure is worth chasing after.

I wish I could get away from here. From everyone and everything.

I might just be having a day. But I'm sure that if this is how I feel, then my body is trying to tell me something. The problem is I know there are really good days in between, when I have nothing but fun with my friends, when I don't have to ignore problems to brush over the awkward silence. Where I do feel like I'm good enough. Where I can appreciate that my friends accept me exactly as I am, when they listen to my problems and make me forget my insecurities, when they make me more comfortable in my skin and help me be confident with myself and dare to breach my barriers and overcome my restrictions.

And then I make jokes about things that I like in theory, I do write fluffy romance for a reason. And my humor has developed so I can forget my insecurities about more sexual stuff as well. But I feel like lately, people are taking my jokes too seriously and my willingness to overcome my own limitations as something like a willingness to overcome these ones too.

My doctor advised me to have children against PMS, my father seems irritated that I find everything involving having (or rather making) children revolting, or that I'm not sure about my gender anymore because it seems more fluid than before lately, my gf has plans about having children and getting married and stuff, and I wish, I wish I were less complicated. I wish I could look at tiny children and not feel wary of and sorry for them. I wish I didn't feel like I lose all the bones in my body as soon as people want me to make decisions or to commit to anything.

I wish I could stop regretting how I treated the one person I might have been able to fall for. I wish I could be more confident about job applications or know what went wrong last time.

I wish I didn't have to dread every relationship I have or had or am going to have (platonic or otherwise intended).

I wish I didn't feel so lost.

I'm not empty, I feel everything at once. And right now I feel so overwhelmed and yet so lonely and I really don't know if this is just a me thing. I'm sure it's just a phase but it means something, I'm sure. It always does.

Perhaps it's all too fast for me at the moment. Maybe I need to step back a little. Emotionally that is. There have been a lot of changes recently. With the new uni, the new flat and the need for a new job. Maybe it's too many changes at once.

[coqvttes]

heyy!!! See? Christmas is literally the most wonderful time of the year (pun intended) there’s no other holiday like this. It’s so special and sweet. Actually I did my nails with christmas vibes (darks green and dark red) with some decoration too. It’s kind of wonky because I’m not a professional but I’m very proud of them and look sooo cute! And obviously im going crazy over the many makeup ideas for christmas eve to wear. And for my wish list I asked for a pretty tattoo of in honor of my dead pup whom I love, or maybe a book too. Either normal people or the virgin suicides, we’ll see. What about you love?

Also, I keep updating myself with your post about this guy, and im telling you this as someone who’s got taken as a joke/ugly by many but still confident enough to ask people out: ask him out for coffee/hot chocolate. I KNOW I KNOW, it might seem impossible or scary but I guarantee you once you go for it and loose the fear of asking, you see it differently. From what you’ve said, I’m confident he’ll say yes. Just use the excuse to catch up and talk about what he’s been up to since you’ve left. It’s gonna work, I know it and I believe in you. Manifesting!!!! ♡ ♡ ♡ (you obviously don’t have to take my advice but it’s worth the shot if you want)

— sofi nonnie <3

omggg i love doing my nails to match the season i did halloween nails and omg i wanna do christmas nails now ashjfagdfjhsdkas!!

i'm sorry to hear abt ur pup, i also lost my retriever last year i miss him to bits :((

books r such a good gift thoo. and omgosh i really want to read normal people soo badd! for my wishlist i really want some fluffy socks (my cat bit holes in all my others), jewellry, cds, and a dyson airwrap LMAO ITS A NEED.

and as for this boyyy i have the biggest crush ever on him. like i never thought about him before until i've seen him now that were older and hes so perfect i dont get it. he doesn't seem to have agirlfriend so im honestly gonna shoot my shot maybe tmr?? eeekfahgjshga

tysmm pookie <3

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Anniversary Drabble: i miss u like ... a lot (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first! but this drabble can be read alone

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: One night until Taehyung is back from his boys’ trip but you miss him too much.

Genre: fluff, smut, kinda crack?, boyfriend/established relationship au

Warnings: unprotected sex (oc on contraception so don’t u do it), teasing over the phone, riding and grinding, just kinda vanilla i-missed-u-so-much sex, a particular selca

Word count: 5k

A/N: It was Heatwave’s one year anniversay on the 17th so I decided to write a quick(?) drabble for this. I fully intended on posting this on time, but wanted to change up some stuff so only managed to finish this now. Happy birthday to my first fic and forver my baby!

MOSTLY UNEDITED

.

The absolute one thing you hate most about your boyfriend being away from you is your boyfriend being away from you.

You have never been the clingy needy type, that is more his role in this relationship, nor are you really one to show affection. In fact, you would hate for that false image to be perceived of you because all that sappy shit makes you want to throw up your dinner. But one thing you’ve learnt since Taehyung had gone away on a week-long boys’ trip down by the coast is how cold the house feels in his absence, despite being in the middle of a sizzling summer.

Everything is so eerily quiet without his random outbursts into song and fits of laughter. Having spent 3 years living together, you have gotten so used to his constant presence that you had even caught yourself several times calling out for him only to remember that he isn’t here. Waking up without his arm draped around your waist, slided up your top at some point during the night, impacts you more than you’d like to admit.

Are you glad that he’s having a great time with his friends by the beach, relaxing all day and drinking all night? Of course. Are you having a great time all by yourself over here in the absence of your boyfriend? Certainly not.

Though, of course, this isn’t something you would confess to out loud, especially to him. He doesn’t need to know how often the thought: ugh fuck, I miss Tete is crossing your mind, lest you want him to rub his smugness in your face.

It isn’t just that. Your relationship hasn’t been without its tests in the course of its years and things have only finally stabilised. It’s not that you don’t trust Taehyung to be with his ladish friends for seven days, shirtless dusk till dawn, intoxicated to the point where he calls you thinking that you’re the pizza delivery guy but…

A hammered Taehyung at a beach full of girls who are no doubt thirsting over him leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You trust him to be loyal to his core, but you don’t trust anyone else to keep their hands from copping a feel. No matter how you look at it, you would just so much rather he be at home with you right now.

You have endured this for six days. Six full days without Taehyung. Six full days with no sex, no tummy kisses, no clammy hand holding even though you’re only to get groceries. Just one more night and this torture will fucking be over, praise the lord. But you also don’t know how much more you can hold back that I miss you text because you’re combusting from the need to see him again.

It’s almost 4am. Your sleep schedule is fucked and it’s really his fault.

The bright screen of your phone offers the only luminescence at this hour. Your messages from him in the past week have not been shy of your daily dose of Taehyung - clips of the beach (always mischievously caption with something along the lines of “thinking of Mykonos ;D” where you went on your first holiday together), selfies that you dwell way too long staring at because you miss that face buried in your neck, drunk videos of the antics him and the boys get up to that you’ll definitely chastise him for when he comes back yet can’t help but laugh at. You find yourself scrolling through them every single night.

Your personal favourite: a pouty selfie he sent you after he dropped his ice cream, the picture you always go back to and the one you’re staring at right now. His hair is frizzy from the sea, lips jutted out childishly and cheeks puffy. Your chest constricts, fuck...

Just one more night, you remind yourself. And then he’s back and all yours again.

Then suddenly, the phone in your hand vibrates, short and abrupt. The bar slides down from the top of your screen reading New Message from Tete. Surprised, you scramble to open it, maybe a bit too desperately for you to be proud of.

04:11

Tete: bby

You blink at those three letters, lips pressed together because your heart is cinching.

Tete: ur prob aslep rn but

Tete: i missu

Tete: <334

The typos indicate that he is wasted, and you take a guess that he has just returned from their last night out of the holiday. The corners of your lips turn up knowing that he is thinking of you right now.

You: no im awake

Your fingers are itching to reply with i miss u too, and it takes all your willpower and stubbornness to stay true to your steadfast self. There is just something so unpleasantly moist about these kinds of texts, something that makes you cringe and gag when you read them. You refuse to be one of those people. A heart is all that you allow yourself to reply.

You: <3

You: r u drunk?

Tete: drunk in love

Tete: yes

A giggle escapes you at his god awful cheesiness - drunk, sober alike. Insufferable. But probably Taehyung’s most endearing quality.

You: did u have fun!!

Tete: yeah

Tete: but i miss u

Tete: more than i had fun

God, you feel like a teenager again, suddenly overcome with this gushing urge to roll over and scream into your pillow. You’re glad he’s merely texting this to you right now because if he had said this to you face to face, your skin would most definitely stain scarlet from neck to hairline, scalding to the touch. Even months into officially being his girlfriend, these curveballs of overwhelming affection throw you off guard.

Again, the compulsion to tell him you miss him too yanks at your heartstrings. You truly don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to say how you feel, let yourself be soft and vulnerable. You know it’s one of your flaws so it’s something that you’re working on, but you can’t say you’ve made much progress.

But just as you decide that maybe you should take the plunge, suck it up and just text him those three words, he sends you a picture.

Tete:

No, not just a picture. A selfie, of him in bed, shirtless under the covers. “Oh, fuck…”

Hand clasped over your mouth to prevent any sound from involuntarily escaping, it takes a moment for your breath to return to you and for you to stop gawking. At this hour… Really? Is he seriously doing this to you right now?

His sleepy eyes. His messy curls. And his fucking nose mole.

The undoing of your existence.

Tete: this boy misses u :]

You: bruh

You: bruhhhhhhh

You: taehyung

Tete: oui my lady :))

You: 👁👄👁

You: can u not do this to my heart

You: y did u send me this </333

You: what was the reason

Tete: coz i miss u

Tete: do u like it

Tete: :D

‘Do u like it’... Actually, you have tears in your eyes, albeit mostly due to staring at a screen for too long so late at night, but it’s certainly contributed by this selfie. You tell yourself you’re acting out because it’s been six days since you last saw him. Perhaps Taehyung Withdrawal Symptoms is the explanation behind why you want to print and frame this picture because that is definitely not a normal reaction to a picture. But this is a masterpiece.

You: taehyung my soul left my body

You: like i could weep

You: u look so soft and fluffy

You: :’(

Tete: lollll

Tete: simp

This boy has some nerve?! Simp! He called you a simp?! Laughing like a maniac, you can’t even pretend to be mad at him, not after this picture he sent anyway. So you guess you are a simp. This selfie is your kryptonite.

Tete: jkjkkkkk

You: hahahaha

You: y r u doing this to me

You: its 4am

You: u can’t send me this rn

You: i won’t be able to sleep

Tete: o yeah how come ur still up?

Tete: go to sleepppp

You: can’t sleep

Tete: aw no whyyy

Because you miss him that’s why.

You miss Kim Taehyung. You miss Tete. You miss your boyfriend, your best friend, your other half. You miss his touch, his smile, his wide eyes when he’s confused. You miss his morning snuggles and late night kisses. You miss the way he hugs you from behind as you prepare your meals. You miss the wandering hands that he can’t help when you’re out in public. You miss playing PUBG together until the sun comes out then both sleeping past noon. You miss taking baths together where bubbles would get into your mouth as your kisses get heated.

You just miss him.

It’s only been six days and you’re in this state. What has he done to you?

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you let out a great sigh and deflate. No other reason offers itself for you to be awake at this hour; he knows you cherish sleep above anything. Teeth digging into your lip, you inhale long and hard, then exhale the gust of your cowardice. It’s not that deep, stupid. Fuck it.

You: coz

You: i miss u

You: like … a lot

You: 🙄

It’s final - you guess you’ve become a mushy wet sap. Truly it is embarrassing how big of a step this is for you; but the sense of pride and accomplishment feels oddly validating. Baby steps. The eye-rolling emoji right after is subconscious because you could only betray the core of your character that much. Forgo it and taehyung might not believe that it’s you.

Tete: omg

Tete: :D

Tete: rrly?

You: *blank kissy emoji*

Tete: wow

Tete: u actually don’t know how hard i’m smiling rn

You: simp

Tete: ofc that’s my middle name

Tete: i miss u a lot too

Tete: like a lotttttt

Tete: i’ll show u how much when i’m back

Ah… Of course, the Taehyung specialty - smothering you with his affection. You freeze at the thought of his wildfire kisses and head between your thighs. Nothing screams of how much you’ve missed each other more than a good dicking down, climax after climax until you’re both panting messes of sweat and entangled limbs. The anticipation makes you squirm under the sheets, legs pressing together.

You: pls do

You: i need u

It’s uncertain what spirit has possessed you at this ungodly hour for these words to come out of you. There’s an instant flash of ickiness, but you let the self-cringing simmer and dissipate into the realisation that this is okay, this is normal. Taehyung’s your boyfriend, couples text like this. You need to grow some.

Tete: fuck baby

Tete: i’m so not used to u texting like this, it's driving me crazy

You: crazy how *cat smirk*

If you weren’t smiling before, you’re definitely grinning like an idiot now. His reaction is predictable, yet oddly still, an incredible wave of satisfaction hits you. And because you want to savour this moment, maybe give him a taste of his own medicine, you send him a picture of yourself.

Camisole strap slid off your shoulder, hair splayed out, bottom lip deep red from biting down on it too much. Just to return the favour.

Tete: y/n

Tete: call me now

-Incoming call from Tete-

Laughing to yourself, you wait a good few seconds before picking up to prolong his torture. “Yes, Taehyung?” You put your thumb between your teeth to suppress the laughter.

“Fuck.” Against the silence of the night, the low rasp of his voice permeating into you from the speaker of your phone sends tingles up your toes. You’ve fucking missed his voice more than you thought. “Y/N… You can’t do this to me.”

“I told you, I miss you. Like… a lot.” The saccharine tone in your reply is foreign to your own ears, but you like the sound of it and the deep rumble it elicits from your boyfriend.

“How much?” Taehyung eggs you on. His words are barely slurred, so you gather that he has sobered up at least for the most part by now. Yet there is still a slowness to it that suggests

“Hmm, like… I touched myself every night at the thought of you a lot.”

A sharp inhale. Then silence. But you know better so you give him a moment to gather himself.

“You shouldn’t be putting that image in my head.” Exasperation is evident in his voice, desperate and yearning. You can imagine him now, one hand on his phone, the other sliding over his pants that are getting a bit too tight for comfort. Your breath hitches.

“Then you shouldn’t have sent me that picture, Taehyung…”

“You said it was soft and fluffy. What you sent me back was not soft and fluffy.”

“Just because it’s soft doesn’t mean it doesn’t turn me on. You do things to me… okay?” Heat trapped beneath the skin of your cheeks, your grip on the phone against your ear slackening as your thighs rub together.

“Fuck, I’m getting hard, baby…” Nothing gets him going more than the knowledge that he turns you on, it’s his weakness but somewhat his strength.

“That’s… unfortunate. Are you going to do something about it?”

His gulp is audible even over the phone. “Uh…” A sigh. “Um. Maybe. Thoughts are being thought.”

“What kind of thoughts? Thoughts about me touching myself and moaning your name? Thoughts about how much I wish my fingers were your cock thrusting so deep into me that I feel it in my guts? Or are you thinking about what you’ll do to me when you’re back tomorrow? Fucking my mouth until I’m crying or filling me up with your cum first?” Your hips buckle at the filth leaving your mouth. This is more like you; you haven’t abandoned your nature after all.

“Oh, fuckkkk.” His moan resonates into your skull, not quite as if he’s here with you but good enough to fill your desire. “Y/N… I need you so badly.” Breath ragged, you hear movement of his sheets in the background as he adjusts into a more comfortable position.

“Are you stroking your cock right now?” A warm slick oozes out of your own entrance. There’s something about Taehyung masturbating to you that elevates you to a different kind of high.

“What do you think, baby?” As you listen closely, you hear the slow rhythm of his pumping, and your fingers ache to pleasure yourself. ‘The things I’ll fucking do to you when I’m back.”

“Mmm, but it’s late, Taehyung, why don’t we go to sleep.”

“Wait, what?” The stroking stops instantly and surprise in his voice releases a smug satisfaction into your veins. The equivalent of pouring a bucket of ice water over his head right now. Teasing is an old undying habit, what can you say? “You wanna end the call now?”

“Yeah, we should sleep, babe.” Grin unsuppressed, you turn over onto your side, probably a bit too pleased with yourself at your success. Taehyung is an easy victim always.

“What the fuckkk?” Your boyfriend groans. “You’re seriously going to tease me this hard then leave me high and dry?” When you offer no more response than a sly chuckle, he add, “You’re so evil.”

“Save it for tomorrow, Taehyung. Think about it, we’re one sleep away from seeing each other again.”

“Fuck, I know. But you just got me so fucking horny, bruhhh. I thought we were gonna have phone sex.” You are still laughing at his whining, basking in the victory you’re holding over him.

“Taehyung, save it for the real sex.” The idea of phone sex crossed your mind several times to be honest, but you really want to collect every single drop of desire and longing and unleash it tomorrow. Raw and pent up. Nothing to dampen the fire.

A sigh of defeat down the line. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know?” You know. “How am I supposed to sleep now though? I’m so rock hard that it hurts.”

“You can figure that out yourself, big guy.” Your cheeks ache from smiling for too long; they often do during calls with him. “One sleep away, okay?”

“Ugh, fine, you demon. I can’t believe you sometimes.” He lets out another sigh. Your heart skips at the anticipation of how he will punish you for this. “Good night, I miss you.”

“Good night, I miss you more.” There’s a sudden change of tone with these words. Because you truly mean it. Sex and physical intimacy aside, you really just missed his voice, his banter.

You fall asleep almost immediately.

.

You don’t think you’ve heard a sweeter sound than the keys rattling at the door the next day. Practically leaping off the couch where you had been awaiting him in your Taeyhyung-less boredom, you run to the door.

As it swings open, heat courses to your chest when your eyes land on his, so full of comfort. Your boyfriend is home. Handsome as ever, much more tanned than your memory of him and much more attractive. White t-shirt and loose black shorts, a mundane outfit that only he could make look exceptional.

And as much as you want to sprint up and throw yourself onto him, your feet stay planted on the floor.

“Hey.” You barely breathe out.

Stay calm and composed, you tell yourself. It was only one week without him, it’s not like he’s returning from war.

But Taehyung doesn’t even reply, because in two long strides he is standing before you, bags tossed to the side, a sign of their insignificance in the presence of you. His arms find their home circled around you, face buried in your hair before you can utter another word. You don’t hesitate to return his embrace, holding his waist as you let yourself fall into his chest. He smells like what summer should, the ocean, sweat and young love; his familiar musk greeting you as if he never left.

Your lips meet his, strong and full of intent. He’s so unexpectedly soft when he kisses back, a timeless romantic dance like he is saviour your taste on his tongue.

With your weight leaning on him, he slowly topples back, stepping hastily until your bodies land on the couch. You fit your legs on either side of him as you burrow your nose in his neck and breathe him in, memorise him. In nothing but a large shirt, your bare thighs are exposed for his roaming.

When you pull away and face each other, you are struck by his beauty. His skin is sun-kissed and glowing, hair an effortlessly beautiful mess, the slightest hint of a stubble peeking through below his nose. Your heart belongs to him forever, you know it without a doubt.

“You smell so good. I missed you so much, baby.” And his voice… That deep baritone honey that you have taken for granted all this time - music to your ears.

“Imissedyoutoo…” You mumble, shy under his undivided attention and mercilessly unbroken eye contact.

With your chests pressed together, his chuckle rumbles into you. “What was that?”

“I missed you too… I guess.” Face flaming, you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at your admittance, fingers twirling around his curls to preoccupy yourself.

But he cups your chin and turns your face to him, forehead pressing up to yours until your noses are touching, breaths mixing. “That’s not what you said last night.” Taehyung smirks, hands sliding down to your waist, the material of your shirt bunching up in his hands. “Do I need to remind you?”

“No…” You find yourself unable to keep your eyes open, your core pulsing mercilessly as you grind onto him. “How are you already hard, Taehyung…” And though you mean to scold him, it comes out breathless.

Lips hovering, he traces the edge of your jaw, tingling the sensitive little hairs on its way to your ear. When he reaches the shell of your ear, warm breath infiltrating so relentlessly into you, you almost lose yourself right there on his lap. “Don’t you know how much I love you?” He whispers.

“Show me.” Is all you make out.

His hands are already beneath your shirt before you even notice, palms kneading into your breasts as he takes your nipples between his two fingers and rolls. As he kisses you again, the same tenderness exchanges between your lips. It’s a different kind of desperation to be so slow and gentle, one that means so much more than sex, one that’s telling of how much you truly missed each other. Your hips roll with a mind of their own over him. One hand of his comes down to your ass, guiding the waves of your rocking. And each time his stiff clothed member digs into your clit, you whimper into his mouth.

Carefully, Taehyung rolls you over onto your back, sucking your bottom lip to keep the seal from breaking. He pulls away when he’s on top of you, and a string of glistening saliva bridges between your mouths. “Foreplay or no? Tell me what you want?” Compliant as ever.

“I need you to fill me up right now. Anything else can wait.” You watch the devotion ignite in his eyes. His fingers are in a hurry as they pull your panties off, knees spreading your legs open as he kneels between your gaping entrance. He tugs his shirt off from the collar, such smoothness in his action that your insides coil up. His newly-bronzed rich skin revealed, you can’t help but reach up and run your hands down from chest to navel, revelling in his blemishless ridges.

A low sound reverberates from the back of Taehyung’s throat as your touch travels down to unbutton his shorts. They fall loose. His hard throbbing members springs free, a glistening bead oozing from his slit. “You didn’t wear boxers?”

When you glance up, you notice his sheepish grin. He presses his mouth onto yours, still smiling, guiding you back onto your back. “I just couldn’t wait.” Taehyung whispers. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, especially since last night… Ah, fuck.” Another deep groan erupts from him as you reach down and slather that bead of precum all over his tip. His head falls onto your neck, writhing under your merciless stroking.

His tip brushing against your clit, your toes curls at the teasing of your weakness, hips jolting up involuntarily and perhaps a bit too violently. You’re so embarrassingly sensitive after this many days without Taehyung, and he notices from your breathless reaction. Smirking, he takes his shaft in his hand and runs his stiff head over your clit mercilessly. And as you roll your head back helplessly, he nibbles onto your exposed neck, faint stubble grazing your skin.

“Quit the teasing…” You whine, unable to withstand the build up of twisting pressure begging to be fulfilled between your legs. “Just put-”

Taehyung pushes himself into you so abruptly that you yelp. And there it is, that mind-melting stretch of your walls that you’ve so much missed. “Fuck, Taehyung…” Your entire core feels ablaze, so numbing that your nails dig into the leather of the couch before they find grip on his arms.

“Like that, baby?” His voice his strained, as if he’s struggling not to lose his mind as well.

Nodding because you can’t make out a word as he slowly pulls out, you grab his face and pull him up to meet your lips. You whimper into him mouth when he rams into you again, hitting your walls in full force, no mercy. His kiss doesn’t lose its sincerity despite the juxtaposition of his vigorous thrusts, though you can’t say that he is quite as gentle with as before. You pinch his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it as your fingers get lost in his hair.

After seven days of deprevation of his cock, your cunt is leaking with the fluid of your arousal, aiding in the ease of each plunge. You feel the stiffness of his ridges pulling you open as he slides in and out of you. “Fuck…” He pants, mouth hovering over yours.

“Let me get on top.” Taehyung’s eyes flash at your suggestion, instantly rolling onto his back. He slips out during the switch of position and the wetness of your cunt is assailed by a sudden rush of cool air.

You swing your leg over and mount him, watching him watch you pump his dick, your own liquid slathered over him sticky in your hand. Letting his member fall against his abdomen, you grind over him between your folds, hands splayed out over his chest. The friction created each time your clit would slide over the thin pinch of skin where his tip unfolded into his shaft has Taehyung a groaning mess.

He looks remarkable under you.

You push his sweat-dampened curls out of his forehead, eyes half closed in euphoria, half watching you roll your cunt so lewdly over his length. You know you could make him cum like this if you continue. But you want him to cum inside you first, you want to feel that thick hot spurt of his desire shoot again and again into you until his cock is twitching.

So slowly, lubricated by your wetness, you sink inch by inch down until the skin of your ass meets his thighs. This angle fuck with your mind; you think you feel him at your cervix. Then your hips start to do what they know best, pounding over him with a rhythm that you’re proud of.

Taehyung grabs hold of your waist, your breasts, fury in his eyes as he watches you ride him with such determination. “I love you so much.” He heaves between heavy breaths.

“I love you, I missed you more than you could imagine.” You huff, thumb running over his red swollen lips.

“I love when you admit it.” He sits up and takes the swell of your breast in his mouth, making his way to your nipples where his tongue relentlessly flickers over.

Your thighs are starting to burn, core aching because his cock is thrusting up into you so deep that you feel it in your guts. The signs are appearing - your vision is going hazy, walls squeezing tightly around him, tangle upon tangles knoting in your stomach. His are too - his head is slumped against your chest, arms crossed behind your back as he holds you close to him, whole body starting to tense as he begins to curse.

Pace quickening, you don’t let the tire of your muscles stop you from your chase. The slap of your skins ringing in your ears, you keep riding, cunt swallowing his cock whole each bounce. Taehyung breaks first. “Fuck!” He calls out into your neck. His cum squirts into you, pulse after pulse, your boyfriend’s hips jolting each thrust.

“I’m so close, babe, keep going for me.” You plead, knowing how sensitive he is right after his climax. He nods wordlessly, face still buried in you hair. The lubrication of his cum abolishes any resistance, letting you slide over him easier than sitting down. And not five thrusts later, your own coil snaps. You through your head back at the wave of pleasure that drowns you, your entire core on fire as your moans echo through the room. It takes maybe twenty seconds for your walls to stop throbbing and for the orgasm to slowly die down.

Taehyung is already growing limp inside you after his orgasm. “Thank you.” You whisper against his forehead while you dismount. His cum flows out of your slit and down the insides of your thighs, but he refuses to let go of you.

When he looks up, you are struck by an overwhelming sensationf of adoration. His long dark curls fall slightly over his eyes, in disarray but just the way you like it. His eyes are so full of genuine love and gratitude of having you that you can’t help but capture him with your lips. “No, thank you.” He mumbles against you, falling back onto the couch with you in his embrace.

After a long kiss of after-sex affection, you pull away before it leads to a second round. “I want you to know that I really missed you a lot. I can’t even call you a big baby anymore because I stared at all the pictures you sent me every night till the sun came out.”

Taehyung’s boyish smile melts your heart. You’ve missed him way too much. His smile, his goofy comments, his tender kisses. “My heart… is squeezing…” If his smile doesn’t tell how smitten he is, his eyes definitely do. “I missed you so much too. All the boys made fun of me for being such a wettie ‘coz I couldn’t shut up about you.” The thought is so endearing that you can’t help but hide your face.

“So how was your trip? Plenty of hot girls drooling after you?” Trick question of course, you know that for a fact already.

“Haha, it was good, fun. Bet you couldn’t sleep ‘coz you were trembling from jealousy.” Scoffing you land a smack on his chest. “But nah, no hot girls. Nowadays there’s only one hot girl in my eyes.”

Your own lips spread like a cheshire cat. “Shut up, cutie.”

“Rachel McAdams.”

“Let go of me. Don’t even touch me.”

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A/N: Moral of the story, never sit on their couch if you’re a guest at the Heatwave house.

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24/08/20

© Copyright 2020

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[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

~

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

*

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

*

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

*

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

[firefly-in-darkness]

Proud Popsicle

Pairing → Dad!Stucky x Daughter!Reader (platonic)

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Y/N visits her Dads after her holiday with her partner

Word Count → 1.4k

SSB2021 Square Fill → Dad/Daughter Dance - @star-spangled-bingo​

Warnings → Fluff.

Betas → @daydream3r-xo​ // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → I couldn’t help myself with this fluffy piece and Steve being such a mother hen and proud husband.

Firefly’s Masterlist // Star Spangled Bingo 2021

It was the first time you’d seen your parents after returning from your holiday and you were beyond excited to spend the weekend with them, telling them all about the adventure you and your partner went on and catching up on all theirs too.

You rushed out of the taxi and eagerly into the arms held open wide, burying your head into the chest of your Pops. He chuckled at the tight hold you had on his waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hi, Pops.” You mumbled into his chest, then looked up to him. “What time will Bucky be back from work?”

You were sure that Steve’s blonde locks and beard were peppered with more greys since your last visit a month ago. But his blue eyes still shone as bright as the day that he brought you, a quite eight-year-old, home from the adoption centre with Bucky.

It was Bucky that had spotted you at the orphanage, shy and playing on your own with some old raggedy toys. He always comments at family gatherings that it was the wild yet stoic look about you that drew him nearby. You were like a feral child in your own little world, he’d tell his closest friends.

It was the moments that you weren’t with family or friends that were hardest for Bucky, you’d grown used to it and didn’t bat an eye when people stared at his prosthetic arm, and you’d always help him through a panic attack from the crowded spaces. You didn’t care that your Dad caused a scene - he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and he needed love and support around him. He had put aside his fears and given you the life of your dreams.

“He should be home in about half an hour, he took a half-day just to see our girl.” Steve beamed and picked up your suitcase. “Come on, I’ve got lunch ready and Auntie Nat is already here.”

You squealed and rushed through the front door and down the hallway to the kitchen. Your favourite aunt was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar with a beaming smile and waiting arms.

“Pops didn’t say you’d be here. When did you get back from Europe?” You threw your coat onto the dining table behind them.

“Last week. Clint and I completed the merger for the business earlier than we expected so we immediately jumped on the opportunity to come home.” Natasha explained. “It’s been a long eighteen months and I needed to see you guys properly. Not on a tiny cell screen.”

You were excited to hear everything about your aunt’s security firm’s expansion and what it was like to live on the other side of the world, but you were interrupted by a sandwich being placed in front of you by Steve. Stomach grumbling at the sight of your favourite filling.

“Steve was just showing me the wedding video,” Natasha smirked.

You groaned, “Not again. Are you seriously still showing that Pops? It’s been two years.”

“Nat hadn’t seen it,” he explained, to which you just raised your brow, knowing full well that she attended the ceremony and you’d sent a digital copy. Steve then added, “in person.”

You chuckled, “okay, what part you up to?”

“When Bucky joined us for the father, daughter dance.” Steve beamed; his chest puffed with pride.

You carried on eating your sandwich, “Well-”.

“Don’t eat with your mouth full.” Steve reprimanded as he started to walk out of the kitchen, “and hang your coat up when you’re done.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at your Auntie Nat for defence.

“Don’t look at me honey, you’re an adult and married now.” She put her hands up and followed Steve.

In a flash, you threw your coat on the hook in the hallway and took your sandwich into the lounge, sitting cross-legged on the couch between Steve and Nat. Both focused on the images playing out on the wall-mounted television.

The swing band, hired by your parents, began playing Moonlight Serenade, you hooked your arm through Steve’s as he guided you onto the dancefloor for the Father, Daughter dance. It was already planned that Bucky and Steve would walk you down the aisle together and then the dance was with Steve. Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle being up there and you accepted that because you wouldn’t put your Dad in a difficult position. Especially after everything he went through from serving for his country.

You made sure to hook the loop at the bottom of your dress before Steve brought you into his arms. It would be just your luck that you’d trip over the flowing skirts as he led you around the dancefloor. The pair of you swayed together, and both caught the adoring stare of Bucky as he watched them from the top table.

You cupped Steve’s cheek as tears glistened in his eyes, “What’s wrong, Popsicle?”

Steve chuckled at the nickname that Tony Stark had encouraged from the moment they met, “I’m just so proud of you sweetheart, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, but please don’t cry. I’m not going anywhere.” You reassured.

“I know,” Steve sighed, a huge smile taking over his features. “I’m sorry that Bucky couldn’t join us.”

You shook your head, matching his smile, “He took me down the aisle with you, that’s what any girl would want of her Dad. Plus, we agreed, this was more your thing than his.”

Steve pulled you closer, and you tucked your head against his chest. Relishing in the magical moment, the love and fear of being separated by marriage had been weighing heavy on the three of them but it had only made their bond stronger.

You both must have closed your eyes and gotten lost in the music because the sudden tap on your shoulder had you both pulling away, startled at the presence of someone joining you.

Bucky smiled, holding out his hand, “Can I join you, doll?”

Excitement surged through you and you jumped into his arms, wrapping them around his neck and nuzzling his neck. You missed the looks between your parents, their silent conversation as they both pulled you into their hold and finished the dance as the family unit you would always remain.

“I love you Dad.” You rested your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too, honey,” Bucky responded with a kiss to your forehead.

You looked over to Steve at the sound of the sniffing but then you realised it was Natasha who was also crying on the other side, you chuckled at the sight of the pair of them. Former hired bodyguards and security detail, strong and independent people, sobbing at the wedding video.

The sound of the front door opening and closing stopped your internal laughter, and you jumped out of your seat, knowing that your dad was finally home from work. You waited for his call, the one he’d done every day, from the moment you were officially theirs, and he never intended to stop.

“Honey, I’m home. Where’s my Princess?” 

You walked into the hallway then sprinted to him, “Dad!!”

Bucky staggered backwards then held you close, “careful sweetheart, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

You pulled away and looked at your Dad, eyes wide in shock, “you cut your hair.”

“Do you like it?” Bucky sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yes, it looks great.” You hugged him again, “Pops is watching the video again. Used the excuse of Auntie Nat seeing it in person.”

“Ugh, the punk.” Bucky chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you walked down the hallway.

“I heard that!” Steve yelled from the lounge, “I might be getting old but my hearing’s still intact.”

“What?” Bucky responded. All they could hear was Steve grumbling and Natasha’s laughter. “Now, what has my partner in crime been up to?”

You’d forever deny that you always watched that part of your wedding video, with tears in your eyes too, whenever you were apart for more than a few weeks. You were the luckiest daughter ever and you couldn’t be prouder to be theirs.

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7​ / @fandomfic-galore​ / @writerwrites​ / @thefridgeismybestie​ / @wedonttalkaboutitenough​ / @courtneychicken​ / @persephonesinfernos​

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers​ / @little-baby-vixen​ / @stuckonjbbarnes​ / @starlightcrystalline​ / @nekoannie-chan​ / @hailhydra920​ / @vollzeitliebe​ / @fitzsimmons-is-forever​ / @ladyacrasia​ / @emmabarnes​

[brockadoodles]

Heartbreak and a New Tattoo - w. nylander

AN: Uhhhhhhhh. Definitely didn’t intend on posting a fic tonight but, cranked this out. It started off as meaning to be fluffy and cute but uh, my angsty cold heart said no? I’m trying to be better about writing shorter stuff, so let me know what you think! I’m gonna tag @broadstbroskis​ and @jasondickinsonss​ since they’re my resident willy pals. 

Word Count: 2653

Warnings: Angst, happy ending though. 

No one warned you that you would lose a piece of yourself when you fell in love. They didn’t caution you about how for every good moment, the ones that make your head spin and your heart race, there would be a chip of your own sense of person falling away. They didn’t tell you that after four years with someone, you slip into their habits, nestling tightly into their life. So much so that you aren’t even sure what direction you’re facing, because everything around you was built by him. It wasn’t that William did anything wrong. In fact, he did everything a partner should. His life was logistically a chaotic nightmare, each step felt like he was balancing on a rope, trying to get to the other side. But he was good at it, he always prioritized you, even when it was hard. The only problem was that he didn’t know the very rope he was stuck on was fraying. 

It had started small, the cracks between you. The calls during road trips became shorter, less engaged. By the time either of you realized what was happening, it was just two people who once aligned into one breathing on a deadline out of obligation because it felt like that was what you were supposed to do. By the time you realized that the person you thought you were, wasn’t anyone recognizable without William by your side, you irresponsibly thought that it was time to let go. So, you let go of the visions of marriage and a family, of the house you dreamed of building together once things settled down, of the thoughts of the holidays spent together, each one more special than the last. You let it all go, taking a seam ripper to the last bits of thread connecting your souls. You couldn’t decide what hurt worse, the demise of what you thought was forever, or the fact that William didn’t put up a fight as you packed your things and left. 

William didn’t know what hit him when you muttered that you were leaving. He was so sure it had to be a mistake, that there had to be some piece of information missing that would fix everything. He felt his chest caving in, the weight of you packing your bags codifying a new language into his head, one that didn’t include you. He spent weeks circling through the last few months before you ended it. Writing down and analyzing every fight, every night spent without talking to each other when he was gone, trying to piece together what moment made you leave. What he could have done to save the very thing that was destined to fall apart no matter how much super glue he tried to stick to it. You needed to find yourself again, and no matter how badly he longed to help you, he needed to let you go. 

When William came back into Toronto in September, he was incessantly telling himself that he was doing better, that the fresh season would throw him back into a familiar enough routine that he could finally adjust to life without you. But familiarity breeds nostalgia, and nostalgia controlled the heartbreak he had spent the last few months trying to let go of. It wasn’t until he was back in the apartment that you shared that the resentment stage of his grief had tucked into his heart. 

The resentment was the worst part of the breakup. Because he didn’t want to resent anything about you. He had gotten four years to love you as best as he could, and he didn’t want to replace all of the memories of love with a feeling of regret. He didn’t regret loving you, even if it ended the way that it had. He didn’t regret thinking he was going to marry you, and when he finally moved on from the resentment stage of grief, he realized that sometimes you can put your all into someone and they simply might not be able to give you all of it back. He was slowly starting to thread the foundation of a new rope, he was starting to move on. But when he saw you standing there in your dark blue dress, your hair a bit shorter than the last time he had seen you, talking to Steph, he dropped the newly constructed rope off the ledge. 

You on the other hand were spending your summer trying to piece together the remaining fragments of your own being, the person who you were before you met William. You were doing okay, as okay as someone could be when they had just ended a four-year relationship with the person that they assumed would be the one. You spent months lying to yourself about being okay. You spent months trying to convince yourself that you didn’t make a mistake, that you didn’t leave because you couldn’t handle being honest with him about how you were feeling. 

It was October and you knew he was back in the city. Hockey had started which meant that his presence was now one you actively had to avoid. You took the long way into the city and back home most days, actively avoiding the arena, knowing that being there would be too much. This half-hearted way of living in the city you called home was manageable, until December when you finally had the courage to unpack the remaining boxes from the home you shared together. 

You were going through a notebook when it fell out, Mitch and Steph’s wedding invitation from over a year ago now. You picked up the card, eyes welling with the tears you had shoved down for the last six months as you remembered that weekend. The weekend you realized Will was your person. 

“I can’t believe you and Mitch are finally getting married.” You hummed to Steph as you slid off your heels and collapsed onto the hotel bed. You had always admired Mitch and Steph, their relationship was one that was the definition of two people who fit together seamlessly, and made the choice to make it work between them. It wasn’t a fairytale or a whirlwind, it was real and raw and you couldn’t be happier as you laid in that hotel bed, dress and makeup still on, half-drunk from the overpriced cocktails that the boys kept flowing after they crashed the bachelorette party, that two of your closest friends were getting married in just two days. 

“God, I know. Is it weird I’m not nervous about it at all?” Steph called from around the corner. You stood up, your feet slightly throbbing from being in heels all night and your mind feeling a bit fuzzy from the drinks as you rounded the corner and saw her taking off her makeup in the mirror. 

“No, you and Mitch are just right, ya know? It works.” You looked at her hand, eyes shifting to the diamond sitting perfectly on her ring finger, sparkly and bright and perfect for her. You grabbed your phone from the counter where you had left it earlier in the evening, not wanting to bring it out with you while you and the girls celebrated with Steph. You looked at the home screen, a small notification catching your eye as you unlocked the phone and hit play on the voicemail. Steph grabbed the phone from your hand, a knowing smile on her face as she turned the volume on the speaker up, William’s voice filling the small hallway before you had the chance to stop it. 

“Hey baby, you’re probably back in the room by now. I just wanted to say that you looked amazing tonight, and I know we can’t be together tonight because of the traditions and all that, but I love you and will be thinking of you.” 

Steph handed you the phone back, a stupid smirk evident on her face that you were pretending to ignore. You went back toward your suitcase, sliding the dress off of your body and throwing on one of Willy’s old sweatshirts and a pair of shorts. You sat on the bed, fingers hovering over your phone as you thought of a message to type back to your boyfriend, a smile lingering on your cheeks from his message. 

“You know what he said to me the night he met you? Granted, he was shitfaced, but I still think it’s relevant.” Steph smirked as she came around the corner, crawling onto the other side of the bed and turning to face you. You rolled your eyes at her and set your phone down, ignoring her slightly as she started speaking again,

“He told me ‘I’m gonna marry her one day Stephanie, just wait.’” 

You let yourself cry over that memory, and for the first time since the breakup, you realized that you were worse off without him, that you had ended something entirely too good for reasons you didn’t understand. You picked up the phone to call more times than you could count, only to set it back down again, torturing yourself with the idea that you had made your decision, and you needed to lay with it.

You were in such a daze when he walked up to you, nerves settling into your stomach at the sight of him. He didn’t look like your Willy anymore, he looked like a hollow version of the man you still were hopelessly in love with, the one that you ultimately played the biggest hand in breaking. You followed him without a word when he asked you if you could talk because the truth was that you would follow William anywhere if it meant that maybe you could get a piece of him back. 

It was awkward for a few moments, both of you riddled with nerves, wondering who was going to dare to break first and say what they were truly thinking about. It was agonizing, being so close to him for the first time in such a long time, and it only made your own doubts about leaving him to come back to your chest in full force. William grabbed your hand quickly, threading his fingers through yours before finally speaking, being the first one to crack the eggshells that you were both walking on. 

“Do you sleep well without me? Because I don’t. I don’t think I’ve slept since June when you left.” He said, head hanging down as if the words he was speaking were in some way shameful. Your heart wanted to break for him because you had been in the same situation for so long, nights feeling long and empty without him there. But part of you was almost feeling some weird sense of satisfaction at knowing he was hurting just as badly as you. You weren’t surprised he dove right in, head first. It was what he always did. He had known you for so long, there wasn’t a point in dancing around saying he missed you now that he had the chance to tell you so, he had already been doing enough to push it away on his own. He didn’t want to keep pushing something that he was starting to realize wasn’t meant to go away. 

“No, willy. I haven’t slept well since we broke up.” You shook your head, opting to tell the truth because up until this point, lying to pretend you were fine had only left you empty, with a broken heart that you didn’t know how to heal. 

“I stayed up until 6 am just because at least then if I called you might be awake. I felt like I was watching myself just get worse and worse, and all I wanted was you. I’m not supposed to want you anymore, William.” 

“I would have answered, I would always answer.” 

“It’s not the same, you know it’s not.” William sighed softly at your words as he let them run in tedious circles through his head. He had spent the better part of the last six months missing you and replaying the events from the summer wondering if you were both wrong for what had happened. Your love story had been like a journey by train, exciting when you’re young and tiring when you get older. It was great until one of you, who could even remember who at this point, had gotten off during a stop and the other one continued on the journey alone and by the time you both reached the final destination, the two different trips couldn’t merge into one anymore. But the problem was that maybe the final destination was all wrong, maybe you were supposed to get off the train because now you could come back together and start a different trip together, one that isn’t tiring when you’re older. 

He looked over at you quickly and let his eyes linger on the features of your face, the ones he used to have memorized hidden by the obvious toll the breakup had taken on you, too. He couldn’t help but think about how if he were to take one look in a mirror that he had been avoiding for the past six months, he probably wouldn’t recognize himself either. 

“I tried to call you,” he started, voice tentative and unsure as you turned to look at him. Your eyes were blurry, and your mind nearly blacked out at the five words he just spoke. Five words that maybe could change everything, or perhaps they would have if you had seen the call in the first place. You tilted your head softly as William ran his hand through his hair. 

“But, your voicemail was full.” You looked away from him, the pain in your chest creeping back in as you took in his second set of five words. Your voicemail, the one that had been filled with messages from him, from times where you were happy, and from drunken nights after the breakup where he sometimes would call and all you would hear on the other end was silence. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to delete them, I just wanted a place where I would be able to hear your voice and have it be just for me,” you smiled sadly, letting the tears blur your vision as you stood up. You didn’t know what to do, this all felt suffocating and overwhelming and yet definitive at the same time. This was it, you were either getting William back, or you were letting him go forever. The choice should have been a simple one and yet it was almost more complicated than the initial choice to breakup had been because at least when you did that, you both thought it was what you wanted. Now you were presented with either putting your heart out in the open, tossing it carefully to the person you had known for so long and putting your trust in him to catch it, or you were running the risk of him dropping it and leaving you crumbled on the floor as you tried to pick up the remnants of whatever would be left after a fumble that big. 

“I spent Christmas without you, please don’t make me spend New Years without you, too.” 

“I don’t want to spend any day without you again.” You whispered, resting your hand on his cheek. William smiled at you and pulled you close into his chest. He tilted your head up and connected his lips to yours, something that you both had spent the last six months missing. You settled into him, feeling your fears melt with each moment that passed. The breakup had left heartache in both of you, but it was necessary to put your real love into permanent ink on both of your chests. A new start, one without heartbreak and with a new tattoo. 

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

The One With The Merry Little Christmas

Summary: The chill at this year’s Lawrence City Fire Department’s Christmas party has nothing to do with the snow falling outside and everything to do with the Dean and Y/n. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K+

Warnings: Language, implied smut, angst (with a happy ending, no pun intended)

Author’s Note: Ah, can you smell Christmas in the air already? Cause I can! Anyway, this fic was written for @smol-and-grumpy​ ‘s SuperFriends Title Challenge, The One With The Friends With Benefits, and @janicho88​ 100 Followers Supernatural Christmas Celebration with, of course, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. These both kind of morphed into the same idea so I decided to combine them. I hope you guys enjoy xoxo and a very Merry Christmas -Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on

Our troubles will be out of sight

Across the small town, snow covered the streets of Lawrence, Kansas, the massive, fluffy flakes continuing to fall as the street lights came on that evening. The town was quiet, the blanket of snow muffling the ambient sound in the winter evening. Just south of downtown sat the city’s one modest fire station. The golden brick building was glittering with red and white twinkle lights, the glow lighting up the street for a few feet in either direction. Music could be heard bumping on the sidewalk from inside the building, its inhabitants sure to be enjoying their company Christmas party. 

Inside, the common room was filled to the brim with the entirety of the company and their loved ones. The kids were chasing each other around the bases of the fire poles. A few of the older ones knew enough to jump full force on the metal to pull open the chute at the top, entertaining the younger ones each time the plastic split open, their giggles chiming in with the festive holiday music the Captain had found in his playlists earlier that day. 

Food and drink littered the expanse of the countertops. Anything one could have been craving was set out for the group to enjoy. Dean was pouring himself a soda since this was his year to be on shift during the party and he had to behave. The fireman had grumbled about it when he stopped by his best friend’s apartment to drop off the ingredients for her taco dip. The taco dip she had only agreed to make for him if he purchased the product. After all, the woman had already made a few dozen sugar cookies for the festivities as her own contribution this year. She politely reminded him then that he could get as pissed as he wanted next year. Not that her words much appeased the Winchester. 

The first responder turned to his buddy and coworker, who was filling another bowl with his famous chili, and held up the red plastic cup with a mock look of disgust, “What is the point of Coke if it doesn’t come with any Jack?” 

“A suga’ rush?” The Cajun drawled in his signature accent. Dean snorted, bringing the cup to his lips when the object was snatched from his hand before the two could meet. 

“Hey--” he spun on his heel, coming to face to face with his best friend. Her eyes were narrowed as she looked over the rim of the cup at him. “Come on, you don’t want that, there’s no rum.”

“Sure,” the woman wet her lower lip before taking a sip of the soda that Dean had poured for himself. 

“Satisfied?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, holding out his hand for his drink back. 

“For now,” she admonished. “But I’m watching you, Winchester.” 

“That’s hurtful, Y/n/n.” Dean placed his hand over his heart, giving his friend the puppy dog look that he had learned from his little brother. A peak of a smile tugged on the corners of her lips as she looked at him before it faltered once again. Finally, she relented and gave the drink back to its rightful owner. 

“I’d say more like rightfully cautious,” the other firefighter chimed in on their conversation, earning an elated grin from the woman standing across from him. Y/n clapped her hands together like a child, her tongue peeking between her teeth as she bounced on her toes. Placing his arm over Dean’s shoulder, Benny added, “Right, Dean-o?”

“You two are incorrigible,” Dean lamented, shrugging his friend’s arm away from him. The pair laughed at Dean’s irritation as Y/n scooted her way in between Dean and the drink table. 

Dean internally cringed as Benny chose then to walk away, leaving the two friends alone for the first time that evening. The thing was, the air between the two friends was actually colder than the snow that blanketed the town outside the fire station. He knew that Y/n was putting on a show for everyone in the station since she couldn’t get out of going to the party last minute, which he also knows she would have preferred. The woman was as much a part of their work-family as she was her own family. That was what happened when best friends were joined at the hip for over fifteen years. There was no way she was getting out of going without raising suspicion, and Y/n was too private of a person to deal with answering questions that her absence would have surely raised. 

As much as people like to think they know the real woman, she only has ever fully opened up to two people in her life, her mother and Dean. No one else has ever stuck around long enough to try and break down that wall that she had put up around herself. If Dean wasn’t just as stubborn as her he might have stopped trying a long time ago, but he was determined to get to know the real woman no matter how hard she seemed to try to stop him. 

In the grand scheme of things, he supposes that’s is why it was so easy for them to fall into their friends with benefits relationship. One post-breakup, alcohol-fueled night in bed together two years ago had begun the whole thing. It didn’t take them long after they woke the next morning to realize the cliche arrangement could be just what both of them needed. Even still, Dean could count on his hands how many times in total they had spent in the other’s bed. 

The most recent of which just happened to be last night. Dean had stopped by with dinner for his friend and the ingredients for the dip he had conned her into making. A few glasses of wine later, as it usually did go, and the two of them enjoyed their time together. But it wasn’t the sex that was the problem, it was the conversation after. 

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Make the yuletide gay

From now on

Our troubles will be miles away

Dean ran a hand through his sweaty hair as Y/n climbed from the bed in search of her strewn articles of clothing. She picked up the various garments, throwing them in her hamper as she passed by it and into her ensuite bathroom. 

“Why are you so quiet?” Dean’s voice carried across the room and over the sound of the shower starting. He pulled himself out of the bed and slipped on his boxer briefs as he followed after her. 

The woman bit her tongue as she tested the temperature of the water. It was only a matter of time before Dean caught on to her charade. Some days she hates how well he knows her. It’s not that she wants to keep secrets from her best friend but it can be downright creepy when he basically reads her mind. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” he questioned, stepping into the bathroom as she climbed into the shower. 

“How to tell you something,”

“Alright, you’re kind of scaring me, Y/n/n,”

Allowing the hot water to cascade down her face and body, Y/n took a deep breath before choosing to answer him, “It’s Sean.”

“As in douchebag Sean?”

“Dean, do you have to call him that?” she sighed, having already expected this reaction from him. 

“Yes, because he is one. You know what, douchebag is the nicest thing I could be calling him right now,” Dean countered, leaning against the bathroom vanity, his arms crossing over his freckled chest at the mention of that prick’s name. 

“He wants to get coffee,” her voice was low, knowing her admission was about to rile up the man on the other side of the curtain. She wasn’t even sure he had heard at first, that was until he whipped the curtain open.

“What?!” 

“Jesus!” Instinctively, her hands flew to protect her modesty as her heart tried to escape from her chest. “Dean, what the hell?”

“I could say the same thing to you! Do you not remember what that jackhole put you through over the last year, because I do. He doesn’t deserve a second of your time.” 

“You think I don’t know that? It’s just coffee, he didn’t ask me to move in with him?” Y/n spit back, her stance relaxing along with her heart. 

“But you and I both know that all it takes is one look at those blue eyes and you’ll be putty in his hands. You can’t go.” The way the last three words came out of his mouth, the definitive tone behind, it them was enough to get her blood boiling underneath her skin. 

“Oh, I can’t? Is that an order, Lieutenant?” The title rolled off her tongue, her eyes hardening as she stared at Dean. “Last time I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“You know that’s not what this is. Y/n/n, I only want what’s best for you. I don’t want to see him screw up your life again. I was there to pick up the pieces last time and I don’t want to do it again.”

“Well I can guarantee you won’t ever have to do it again,” her voice was low, her words steady even though her eyes were filled with unshed tears. 

“You know that’s --”

“Get out!” she commanded suddenly, stopping him before he could say anything else. Her eyes scrunched closed, willing herself to not look at her closest friend, the one person she was supposed to be able to count on as he let her down. 

“Y/n,”

“I said get out!” 

Here we are as in olden days

Happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us, once more

That was the last time the two of them said anything to each other until she walked into the fire station a little over two hours ago. He had to give it to her, she was putting on a good show, even messing around with him like usual. But he could see the truth in her eyes when she looked at him. Y/n was pissed, but most of all, she was hurt. 

Dean turned around, leaning against the counter to face her. The woman didn’t acknowledge his presence, instead choose to continue with preparing herself a drink, one with a bit more whiskey than needed, but he wasn’t going to comment on that. “I’m glad you are here,” he tried instead. 

“Well, I haven’t seen Sam and Jessica and the kids in a while, I wasn’t going to miss out on that because you are an ass,” she noted, still choosing to not look at him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“No, you never do, do you?” She swallowed thickly, turning on Dean, the flicker of a flame telling the experienced first responder it was best not to stoke the fire. The two of them stared at each other for what felt like minutes to them, when in reality, it was merely a few seconds, the bubble they were in being popped by Dean’s niece running and crashing herself into his legs. 

“Uncle Dean!” She cheered, reaching up with her short arms as he bent down to pick her up. He situated the little girl on his hip as she squealed in delight. “Can I have another cookie?” Her tone dropped, the small child looking up at her only uncle from underneath her insanely long lashes. 

“How many is that now?” He asked her, the glint of a smirk on his face. 

“Uh… two,” she held up two fingers, her argument completely unconvincing. 

“Uhhuh, I bet,” Dean grumbled, but he knew in his heart he couldn’t say no to that face. “Okay, one more cookie, but you can’t tell on me to you Daddy. He thinks sugar is for suckers.” 

“Promise.” The little girl held up her pinky to her uncle, one of the first things he ever taught the kid because he knew he was a sucker from day one and he was not trying to get into trouble with his little brother over it. Even if it never worked to his advantage.

Dean held up his pinky and wrapped it around hers. He shrugged to Y/n before taking his niece over to the sweets table. In reality, Dean knew the conversation needed to be over, it wasn’t the time or place, but if there was one thing he hated more than anything it was fighting with Y/n. It felt like a piece of him was missing when he couldn’t talk to her or see her, and if he was being honest with himself that kind of scared him. When he became so codependent on her he couldn’t be sure. It just felt like she had always been there, and always should be, right by his side. 

Clara tried to steal a second cookie as Dean helped her pick out the first, but he knew he would be in it if he let her get away with that one, so he made sure it got put back. When he turned around to set the five-year-old down, he noticed Y/n was gone. He scanned the whole room and couldn’t find her anywhere in the mix of people. 

As suspected, the little girl rushed right to her Daddy, who scowled at his brother. Dean offered a shrug and a smirk as he made his way over to Sam. “Don’t you start with me too.”

“Oh, it’s not me you have to answer to, it’s Jess because she’s the one that has to put her down tonight.” 

“Eh, she’ll forgive me, I’m her favorite brother-in-law,” Dean waved off his brother. 

“You’re her only brother-in-law.” 

“Whatever. Did you see where Y/n went?” 

Sam crossed his arms, his brows rising on his forehead, “Looked like she was headed outside.” Dean pursed his lips, two small dimples forming at the corners. “Did you two fight?” 

“Is it that obvious?” 

“No, but you are all brooding and pensive right now,” Sam moved his hand in a flourish in front of Dean as he spoke. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, what’s going on with you two?” The taller brother pushed for Dean to talk, and he pondered his pros and cons of answering. 

“Sean wants to have coffee with her?” Dean said, nonchalant. 

“And?” 

“And the guy is a dick, she deserves better.” 

“Better? Like you?” Sam tried to hide the amusement from his features as Dean whipped his head from where he was staring at the door to his little brother. 

“What?��� Dean’s voice rose an octave at his brother’s question. 

“Oh come on, I know you guys have been sleeping together for a while now.” 

“Sam, it’s not what you think,” Dean sighed before running his tongue over his bottom lip. “It’s only happened a handful of times.” 

“And?” Sam shook his head, trying to convey his meaning to his brother. “Listen, you guys have known each other for longer than I’ve known Jessica. You spend all your free time together. You are basically a couple which I would say without the sex but we all know you are doing that too, so basically a couple. Why can’t you just man up and tell her how you feel?” 

“Cause I don’t know how I feel? It’s never felt like a relationship with her. It’s just always been easy.” 

“That’s how it should be, Dean. The two of you are perfect for each other. I think you owe it yourselves to at least try.” Sam urged.

“And what if it all blows up?”

“What if it all works out?” Sam countered. “Every relationship is either going to end in forever or end in a breakup, but that doesn’t mean that you just don’t try. Take the leap, Dean.”

“I hate you, you know that,” Dean grimaced, knowing that his brother was right. While he had never thought of Y/n like that before they slept together the first time, he couldn’t ignore the chemistry they had together. She was his other half, he already admits to that, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t amazing sex. Sam was right, how would admitting anything be different than how they already lived their lives together?

“Yeah, well, I’ll say I told you so at your wedding,” Sam clapped his older brother’s shoulder before running off after his toddler. Dean glared after his brother, he hated when he was right, mostly because Sam loved to say ‘I told you so’. 

Through the years

We all will be together

If the fates allow

Hang a shining star

Upon the highest bough

The firefighter stalked off towards his locker to grab his jacket before following out the doors that lead to the side of the firehouse. If Y/n went out, that’s where she would be, sulking in the shadows. Cold air swirled in to replace the heat from inside as he opened the door, the rush of it sending a chill through his body. He zipped up the coat as he went down the few stairs, finding her sitting there on the stoop. 

“Dean, I don’t want to talk about it,” She sighed when she looked up to see it was him that had followed her. 

“Then just listen?” He quirked one brow at her, waiting for her invitation before taking a seat next to her. “I know that you are hurting and I wanted to start by saying I’m sorry. It was never my intent to hurt you.”

“I know that.”

“I just… I can’t stand seeing you so down. Sean hurt you badly and I didn’t want you to allow him to do it again. You deserve so much more than that.” Dean pulled his arms in closer to his body as the chill of the night set into his bones and the snow continued to fall around them. 

“It was just coffee Dean, not a marriage proposal.”

“Yeah, and I hate that even more,” Y/n looked up then, confusion written all over her features. “Y/n you know that you are the most important thing in my life, next to my brother. Hell, most times you outrank him. When we fight, or you go out of town, it’s like there is a piece of myself missing, I have this hole in my chest that only you can fill. I guess I never really understood what that meant in the grand scheme of things.” 

“Dean,”

“You know I love you right?” He cut her off.

“Of course I do. I love you too,” The word rolled off the tip of her tongue like honey. Like it was the most simple thing in the world. Because she did love him, and she had for as long as she’d known the eldest Winchester. 

“But Y/n/n, I think I’m in love with you,” Dean held her gaze, his amber green eyes searching hers for the words she had yet to utter. The girl across from him could feel her chest filling with emotion, the confession by her favorite firefighter igniting something long dormant inside her. 

“You do?” Tears were threatening to overflow her eyelids, the feeling inside her needing to escape somewhere. She wasn’t in control anymore, her voice cracking with her words. 

“I do,” he nodded, affirming his words to himself as well as her. “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just thought that maybe we could give us a chance.” 

“Us?” Dean nodded, at a loss for what she was thinking for the first time in a long time. “I like the sound of that, us.” Y/n repeated the words with a snort,  a coy smile upturning one side of her mouth. Dean’s breath hung in the air as he waited for her to continue. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yes, Winchester.” The woman shook her head as he sighed, his body visibly relaxing next to her. Dean took his hand out of his jacket pocket, cupping her cold cheek in its warmth. A bright smile lit up her face as he ran his thumb over her reddened nose and down over her bottom lip. “Just kiss me already.”

“Is that an order?” He threw her words back at her, earning a fist to the chest. Her nose scrunched up as she playfully scowled at him. Dean felt her fingers wrap around the lapels of his jacket before she was pulling him to her, their lips meeting in the middle. Both of them were hesitant, this being their first kiss that wasn’t alcohol-fueled or rushed. Dean opened his mouth to her just as the alarm inside the firehouse sounded sending the two of them apart as if they had been electrocuted. 

“I’ve gotta go,” Dean silently cursed the universe’s timing. 

“Go save lives,” she patted down his jacket against his chest as her fingers unraveled themselves from the material. Dean pecked her chilled nose before getting up and running to the door, pausing as he pulled it open to turn back to her. 

“Wait for me?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

[karomate]

High Ground - Olli Matela FF Part 7

Remember how I told y'all yesterday I wouldn't post a chapter today? Guess I tricked myself there a bit. Today is Switzerlands national holiday. Which means firework and my cat will be scared. So I will stay home, write probably some more and take care of my cat. lol.

And now enjoy and lemme know if you liked it.

P.S. once again the chapter is a bit longer.

_______________________________________________

After Olli came back out the shower, Sara thought he looked very handsome. Like he always did. He was wearing a black button down and simple black jeans. “Looking good there handsome”, she said and walked over to him, to give him a short kiss. “I only tried to not look like a himbo next to you”, he admitted and pulled her closer to him to start pepper her face with kisses. She laughed and pushed him softly away from her. He was just so unbelievably cute she almost couldn’t handle him. “So. What do you think. Should we go and buy some liquor so the party will be more up to our taste?”, he asked her smirking. She also started to smirk and nodded her head. So out they went to the next corner store, to buy some harder stuff than beer, which Tommi probably already had at his house.

They decided to get themselves some good old cheap whiskey and because Sara was a big fan of it some Aperol. After they bought their stuff it was already time to go to Tommis place.

After they arrived no one questioned why they came together. Sara actually expected one or two side remarks, why they arrived together and already made sure she had an excuse. Gladly she did not have to use a single excuse. She would have hated to lie to the guys. “Hi guys!”, Sara greeted them with the most genuine smile she had in a long time and even pulled them all into a hug, which surprised not only her but them as well. “I brought Aperol!”, she claimed and held the bottle up high. They cheered for her and Tommi took the bottle to the fridge. “So who allowed you to look this good, madame?”, asked a beer holding Joonas and smirked at her. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the cute man in front of her. “You’re one to talk. Looking all hot and fluffy here”, she answered him and motioned for him to a little twirl for here. He obliged and turned around in a circle for her and even threw a pose in there, which resulted in all the people laughing. “Dork”, she laughed at him, and asked Tommi where his fridge was. He pointed to the kitchen and she and Olli made their way inside, to grab drinks for themselves. “How am I supposed to resist you?”, he mumbeled low enough for only her ears and smirked when he noticed her blush. “Don’t then”, she winked, after she gained her confidence back, and left a dumbfounded Olli back in the kitchen. Two could play this game, she thought and sat down next to Tommi, who was sitting on a bench. They were right, when they said he looked like a teddy bear. Like there was probably no one softer in this garden than he was.

Olli also came back out and had to his disappointment noticed that there was no free space next to his angel. A little bit pissed he sat down next to Niko, who to his surprise noticed the shift in Ollis face. “Don’t be pissed, just because she gets along with Tommi”, Niko whispered so only Olli could hear. Olli was surprised. Was he this obvious? “I am not pissed”, he tried to defend himself, which resulted in Niko letting out a snorting like laugh. “Sure buddy and I am the queen of England”, he joked and hit Olli on his shoulder. There was no one who could fool Niko. He always noticed everything. “Oh! I am sorry your highness! Can I bring you something to drink? Would you like to have your corgis in the same garden as you!”, Olli mocked in a british accent and even intended to do a bow. The others in the garden were surprised but couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you doing Olli?”, Aleksi asked while Joel was holding his stomach from laughing so hard. “Niko said he was the queen of England. I only wanted to be a good servant”, Olli said and tried to subtly wink at Sara. But of course Niko had to notice. Once again! Olli decided that keeping him and Sara a secret would maybe not be hard in front of the other boys, but Niko could turn into a problem.

They were all laughing and enjoying themselves. Alcohol was there and they all started to feel a bit light headed. Sara made her way to the kitchen, to go grab her and Niko another beer. She only did it because Niko tried to act cute when he asked to also bring him one. She couldn’t say no to the long haired man. She didn’t notice that Olli followed her into the kitchen. He also drank a few beers and was feeling tipsy. “Angel. When are we leaving?”, he asked her and trapped her between the counter and his body. “Why would we leave? And why would we leave together?”, she teased him and tried to get away from him. She didn’t really want to get out from this position, but it was fun playing with him, as he was getting impatient. “We will leave together. You’re going to sleep at my place today”, he decided for her and put his head on her shoulder. It seemed like she didn’t have any other choice but to stay at his place. “Gladly”, she admitted and pulled him into a short kiss, which fast turned into a full make out session in the middle of Tommis kitchen. The thought hit Sara like a brick, and she pulled away from him. Olli didn’t really feel that and started to kiss her neck roughly, which probably will turn into a mark. “Babe”, she whimpered and he stiffened. “If you say that again, I will have to take you home this instant”, he growled into her ear and pulled away from her, to look her in her eyes. Sara noticed that his eyes darkened quite a bit. “Just one more hour and then we’ll leave”, she whispered and gave him a short kiss, grabbed her and Nikos beer and went back outside to the other men.

Olli had to collect his thoughts and calm his racing heart down in the kitchen. He didn’t know he would react so strongly to a single word this woman said. But he clearly did. He could feel his heart in his throat and his hand were shaking a bit. He went to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face to calm himself even more down. After he calmed down a bit and his heart wasn’t beating like a metronome at 189 he went back to the boys. Of course, Niko looked at him weirdly and even smirked a bit. “Were you the one who bruised the princess a bit?”, Niko whispered in Ollis ear. He looked closely at Saras neck, and he saw it too. There were really small bruises starting to form. Olli looked down, so Niko wouldn’t see his grin. “A gentleman never tells”, he winked at his friend and took a sip from his beer. Only 50 more minutes until he and Sara would leave.

After the most painful 60 minutes Sara slowly got up from her place. She was a bit wobbly. Maybe she shouldn’t have drank that Aperol. But man was she feeling amazing. “Boys. Tomorrow is a long day. I will head back to the hotel now”, she said. “Don’t be late to rehearsal tomorrow, and do not be hungover. There were never any good songs made hungover”, she lectured them professionally and gathered her belongings. “We probably all should head home”, Joel said and got up as well. Everyone expect Tommi, cause it was his garden, followed his lead and they also gathered their belongings.

After everyone said their goodbyes, they started to head in the right directions home. Olli made sure that no one looked at him an Sara and pulled her to a wall and pressed her softly against it. “That was longer than an hour”, he whispered between kisses and tried to get even closer to her, which was physically impossible, as they were already really close together. “But now you got me”, she whispered back and put her arms around his neck. After two more minutes of them just kissing, Olli pulled away from her, took her hand and started to drag her at a fast pace to the direction of his apartment. He was getting impatient, Sara noticed that.

Olli never arrived at his apartment faster, and he couldn’t even be bothered to wait for the elevator. He pulled her straight to the stairs and dragged her up there as well. He needed three tries to get the key in the hole, but when he managed he pulled Sara straight to his bedroom. “I know a few hours ago I said I wanted to wait a bit longer, but by god. You drove me crazy today”, he admitted an pushed her to lay down on his bed. It was actually Saras first time seeing his bedroom. “Did I?”, she smirked at him and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt. He just nodded at her, unable to say a word.

He finally managed to get out of his button down and crawled on top of her. He started to kiss her passionately. Slowly he put his hand on her ribs. Suddenly too shy to make the next move. She pulled him closer to her, which encouraged him to slip his tongue in her mouth. They were so engaged in each other, that they almost didn’t hear Ollis phone ring, which was still in Ollis back pocket. “Ignore it”, he whispered as he noticed her moving away. “It could be important”, she argued. She was drilled to always answer her phone. At all times. “That’s Nikos ringtone. It will probably be about a song he found online”, he tried to persuade her, but Sara was stubborn and looked at him wit a -pick it up- look. He let out a deep sigh, pulled his phone out and lie down next to Sara who was trying to fix her dress. “I am really sorry man. But could you tell me your Netflix password?”, Niko did sound guilty on the other end of the phone. Olli almost couldn’t believe his ears. Was Niko for real? He had the most beautiful girl in his bed and right now his friend had to call him and ask for his fucking Netflix password? The mood was ruined. “It’s Fuckyou1234 with a capital F”, he said and hung up the phone.

[swissmissficrecs]

Can you recommend fics which are fluffy but explicit as well? :D I have just read a super angsty fic and I need to see my boys happy. Thanks x

Reply: First off, I have these fluff-related rec lists, but not all of them are high-rated and some also have quite a bit of angst:

Fluff Master List

Fluff (more since the previous master list) + even more fluff and good feels

Then from my bookmarks, I have culled these E-rated Johnlock fics that should be fairly light on the angst and high on the fluff & romance:

A Family Trait by cumberqueer (12K, E, Johnlock) Set post-S4, John is back at home with Rosie in Baker Street. He's working on a lot of things, including building his trust with Sherlock once more. An emergency shift at the clinic jumpstarts the process, forcing John to leave Rosie at home with only Sherlock to watch her. Sherlock does his best and John makes a mistake, but everyone is happy in the end.

An Approximation to Perfection by TooSel (22K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock realises just how good the sex John had with his last girlfriend was. The solution is simple: he's going to do everything in his power to ensure that their own sex life stays interesting. Only that it's never quite that easy.

And if you say the word, I could stay with you by CaitlinFairchild (12K, E, Johnlock) What Sherlock thinks is, On the day I die, be it in a dirty alley at forty or in my bed at eighty, the last thing I will remember is tonight, the way you looked at at me on the snowy pavement, cheeks pink with the cold, breath puffing in frosty white clouds, your heart in your eyes and snowflakes in your hair. I will remember that single perfect moment in my life, that moment I knew I had everything I ever wanted, and whatever happens next, I will die content. What he says is simply, "Marry me."

Clutter-Free by MissDavis (13K, E, Johnlock) 5 times John made Sherlock clean up the flat and one time he didn't have to.

Full Circle by cumberqueer (13K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes has noticed that his best friend and crime-solving partner John Watson is doing well - too well for what they've been through, if you ask him. Sherlock is worried John is seeing someone that is making him very happy, and intends to find out who. But first: data. Featuring a spreadsheet of John Watson's Smiles, a parentlock makeover for 221b, and John being charming af.

If There Were Any Time For A Miracle by Berty (31K, E, Johnlock) John and Sherlock are spending Christmas at the Holmes' family home. Sherlock has a plan that John doesn't know about. John has a wish that Sherlock doesn't know about. If there were any time for a miracle, this would be it.

I'll Follow You Into the Dark by fearfully_beautifully_made (19K, E, Johnlock) ...A story about two men who have had a very tough couple of years and are long overdue for a little tenderness and healing. Or four times that one of the boys wake each other up from a Nightmare and one time when it is not a Nightmare. ;)

In July of This Year by yaycoffee (12K, E, Johnlock) There is an oft-cited experiment discussed in classrooms and cocktail parties alike, a convenient analogy when one endeavors to make a point about not noticing the obvious until it is inevitable. Simply, if you place a frog on a hot plate, it will jump off immediately, but if you put that frog on a cool plate and turn up the heat slowly, slowly, it will simply burn. Or: How these two idiots melt together, finally.

Johnlock Advent 2018 by sussexbound (47K, E, Johnlock) A collaboration between @honeybeelullaby, @chained-to-the-mirror, and myself. @honeybeelullaby provided the wonderful prompts, @chained-to-the-mirror drew pictures based on those, and I wrote a ficlet for each one.

Merlot by Itsallfine (14K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John work toward becoming something more as they prepare to host the Holmes parents at 221B for the holidays.

Put a Little Love in Your Heart by MissDavis (16K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes and John Watson will both tell you that they are not sentimental men, and that neither thinks the holiday season is anything more than a series of dates on a calendar. Don't believe a word they say.

State of Flux by Atiki (24K, E, Johnlock) John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they're both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

The Allowables by cwb (14K, E, Johnlock) Got your email. Your idea of whispering filth to me in public is genius. ALWAYSI thought you might like that. CBTM

To Feed Your Hunger by FinAmour (21K, E, Johnlock) What does a kiss say, after all? A kiss is a gift. A kiss is a promise. A kiss says, “You’re mine, and I’m yours.” John exhales. “Can I kiss you?” Sherlock is trembling in his arms. “If you don’t,” he murmurs roughly, “I may lose my mind.”

To Keep Quiet by Salambo06 (11K, E, Johnlock) Four days. In the end, that’s all it takes for Sherlock to accept the fact that there is a chance John might be feeling just as desperate for more as he is.Still, it doesn’t change the fact that they need to talk. Sherlock counts it down to four conversations in total, at least. He’s certain John is just as aware of this fact as he is, but still, Sherlock finds himself unable to think of any plan of action.

Undersea-Rainbows by agirlsname (11K, E, Johnlock) If John ever saw a picture of how Sherlock gazes at him when he isn't looking, things would turn around very quickly for them.

Winning the Goat by ArwaMachine (17K, E, Johnlock) The life that Sherlock and John have together is rather unusual. Sometimes they lounge about the flat with their daughter. Sometimes they flee for their lives from a band of organ-harvesting criminals. Sometimes they shag. Sometimes Sherlock insists upon arguing with John about the Monty Hall problem for weeks on end. Somehow, they love each other. Somehow, it all works. 

[flowerpowell]

The Royal Holiday Romance (Liam x MC)

PART ONE

A/N: ..... Okay but hear me out. I sat down to finish my two ongoing series and this is what came out instead. It’s not my fault really. This is going to be a short series (about 4 parts me thinks) and it’s going to be cheesy and fluffy, wintery, Christmassy and very Hallmark-y (I watched too many Hallmark romcoms and this is the result). 

A/N 2: This has nothing to do with the canon but the characters belong to Pixelberry. 

Rating: G

Word count: 1668

Tagging (perma + TRR + Liam tags): @twinkleallnight @kingliam-rys @sfb123 @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @iaminlovewithtrr @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @dcbbw @kingliam2019 @thequeenofcronuts​ @jared2612​ @annekebbphotography​ @lodberg​ *

*my taglist is very old so if you no longer want to be tagged in my posts, just let me know and I’ll take you off.

“Wow.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Victoria looked at the scenery in front of her, still not believing her eyes.

“It looks like I’ve just walked into a Hallmark movie set,” she admitted staring at the white wonderland. Her friend chuckled.

“It does look like that a bit. But Cordonia is always so mesmerizing this time of the year. Truly magical. You’ve never been here?”

“No. This is my first time here, and in Europe in general. And you?”

“A few times. I used to come here for winter holidays with my parents many years ago. The last time I visited Cordonia was three years ago when we were filming The Crown and the Flame. We spent a few months here and we were even invited to a dinner with the King and the Queen.”

“Seriously?!”

“Mhm.” Hana nodded slightly. “It was a very important movie for all Cordonians as it was about their beloved and legendary Queen Kenna Rys.”

Victoria sighed in admiration. Hana Lee was one of the most popular and talented actresses in the world. She was nominated to Oscars at least three times and ate dinner with the King and the Queen of Cordonia. And now she was standing next to Victoria Brooks, novice actress, in a snowy Cordonia and talking to her as if they were best friends, not just co-stars.

Victoria realized how lucky she was to be starring alongside someone like Hana. Great actress and even greater personality. No wonder she was so loved by many. And even though she was only playing Hana’s character’s sidekick, she was grateful for the opportunities that came with it.

~~~~

“Liam!!! You have to see this!”

Liam turned to see his friend Maxwell running into the office with a phone in his hand. “Look!”

“Maxwell, I can’t see anything if your phone is so close to my face. What’s happening?”

“Hana Lee is here! The Hana Lee! They’re filming a Christmas movie here, which she’s co-producing by the way, and I have to meet her. Please, please, Liam, use your kingly privileges and let me meet Hana!” Maxwell pouted and Liam bit his lip so he wouldn’t start laughing.

“I know you have a celebrity crush on her but isn’t it a bit too much?”

“You’re saying that just because you already met her and I wasn’t invited!”

“I barely had any chance to talk to her, it was mostly my father who did the talking but from what I remember she was truly a charming person.”

“Well, duh.” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I just want to meet her. I’ve prepared a welcome dance just for her and I need to show it to her. She’ll love it!”

“And what do I have to do?”

“Come with me to the set and tell the security not to kick me out? You and Drake can hang out somewhere while I’ll be with Hana.”

Liam furrowed his eyebrows. “Drake is coming as well?” He asked.

“NO!” They heard Drake’s voice from the hall just as Maxwell opened his mouth to say ‘yes’. In a moment, their friend walked into the office and stopped right in front of them. “I already said no!”

“Come on, you guys! I have dreams too, you know?”

“And meeting an actress while bringing your friends with you is one of them?” Drake raised his eyebrow at Maxwell.

“I actually wanted to ask her something.” Maxwell blushed a little. “I wanted to ask her if she’d let me write her autobiography.”

“Err…” Liam started and looked at Drake for help.

“Maxwell, you can’t write her autobiography.”

“Why not? You doubt my writing talent?”

“No, actually, yes, but that’s not the point.” Drake shook his head.

“Only Hana can write her autobiography, you can write her biography,” Liam cut in. Maxwell shrugged.

“Same thing. Does it mean you’ll come? Pleaseeeeee. Pleaseeee, pleeeaase!”

Liam sighed as he looked at Drake who was shaking his head. “Yes, Maxwell. We’ll come.”

~~~~

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, I’ve just finished and I thought I’d go for a walk and explore a bit.” Victoria smiled at Hana who looked beautiful in a dress she was wearing for the opening scene.

“But we’ve just started rolling. How are you finished already?”

“Well… Your movie best friend doesn’t have that many scenes. I’m just a supporting character, remember?”

“Oh, okay.” Hana thought for a second. “Would you like to go through the tomorrow’s scenes later?”

“I think I’m okay. I only have a few lines and to be honest, I’m so used to playing background characters that I feel well prepared for shooting.” Victoria said it half-jokingly but Hana’s face fell a little.

“I’m sure if I talked to the—”

“No, Hana, no.” Victoria shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m happy with my role. I just wanted to say I’m well prepared for this role because I always play best friends. No whining intended.”

“Okay then.” Hana smiled. “Just remember some of the best actors got their awards for playing supporting characters.”

~~~~

Liam was looking at the set, unsure why he agreed to help Maxwell.

“You’re the best, you know that, right?” Maxwell beamed as he was trying to spot Hana. The security let them in immediately after Liam introduced himself and his friends.

“Just remember we should—” Liam started but Maxwell ran off somewhere, half dancing. “—be going soon.”

“Yeah.” Drake nodded. “I’ll be with the food if you need me,” Drake said before leaving Liam alone.

He looked at the set; it was busy and Liam didn’t feel like socializing. He decided leave the set and go for a walk before he’d come again to take Maxwell and Drake back to the palace. The last thing he needed was people recognizing the King on their set.

~~~~

Victoria was wandering through the forest which was conveniently located near the movie set. She thought if she was to be in only a few scenes in the movie, she might as well use all the free time to explore Cordonia. And there was a lot to be explored.

Normally, Victoria would do a thorough research on the country she was going to but because her being in the movie was a last-minute decision, she had no time for anything except for packing.

She wasn’t complaining, though. There was something magical about exploring the country for the first time. She wanted to make the most of it.

What she told Hana was completely a lie. She wasn’t whining and she was truly happy to be playing Hana’s supporting character. Acting wasn’t the career of her choice. She was in love with cinema ever since she could remember. When she got into her dream film school she wanted to become a famous movie critic. Her plans were changed later when one of her professors told her she had a talent for acting and she should try it. Ever since, Victoria had small roles here and there. She loved seeing how the movie industry works from the inside but at the same time, the more she played, the more she longed for something more.

Not wanting to complain, she only silently wondered when she’d stop playing best friends and be a main character, at least once in her life. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the longer she was acting, the more she believed she wasn’t a main character even in her own life. Maybe it was supposed to be this way, maybe some people were meant to be supporting characters even in their own lives. Maybe it—

“Ooooff” Victoria’s stream of consciousness was interrupted when she bumped into something. Someone. A man.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“A local. Cordonian accent is really pretty,” she thought to herself as she nodded at the stranger.

“I’m sorry I bumped into you. I didn’t see you,” she admitted and the stranger laughed.

“From my point of view, you were looking directly at me. I assume you were lost in thought.”

“I was, sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. I always lose the sense of reality when I’m in nature myself. You’re a tourist, I assume?”

“I am. Just came here and wanted to explore a little.”

The stranger nodded. “The forests are usually not the first thing the tourists are visiting but I must admit, we do have amazing forests.”

“They might not be for most people but I love going for walks here and forget about my job, my life, everything.”

“Then I think we’re very much alike. I do like to forget about my job as well.”

“Is your job that bad?” Victoria asked and noticed the stranger’s face expression changed.

“It… can be. It’s very demanding and I… sometimes like to take a break. And you?” He changed the subject. “What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m—” she stopped. If she told him she was an actress he’d ask her what movies she played in. Victoria wouldn’t bear seeing the disappointment on his face when she’d explain she plays minor roles. Not when she started to like him.

“Victoria, stop it, you can’t think every single person you meet and have at least one thing in common with is your soulmate. You’re not living in a movie.” She scolded herself and she realized the stranger was still waiting for the answer.

“I’m… in the movie industry,” she finally said. “A critic. Well, a beginner but you get the idea,” she lied, laughing nervously.

“That sounds intriguing, umm…” he stopped at looked at her expectantly.

“Victoria! Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. And you are…?”

“Liam. Nice to meet you.” He extended her hand and to Victoria’s surprise, he kissed it, smiling at her. “And welcome to Cordonia. I hope you’ll have a great time in our beautiful country.”

Victoria felt a chill running through her body as Liam was touching her hand. She offered a small smile in return. “Yes… Me too.” 

~~

[liqvid-gold]

GIA Task #01: July

If your character’s in a bad mood, do they prefer to be left alone or have someone try to cheer them up?

Ionna tends to prefer to be alone with Pingu, but even they admit that sometimes they need help processing or comfort. it’s hard to be upset when you have a fluffy dog giving kisses. Sometimes, though, you need to go for a run to cool off. Or you need a friend, some good cannolis, and some dumb movie.

How do they deal/have they dealt with conflict in their relationships with others, past or present?

It’s taken a lot of mishandled conflict for Ionna to learn not only her limits, but that others have them too. And sometimes you just have to feel what you’re going to feel before you can talk about it honestly. Her relationship with her parents is evidence of this.

When she was initially contemplating dropping nursing school, they fought pretty regularly. They were supposed to be setting an example, after all. And wasn’t she just so sure when she started? This was a huge commitment. What was the plan? Did she have one? Was she sure?

They only wanted the best for their child, but it initially felt like a personal slight to suddenly reject such a significant investment.

Ionna felt betrayed by their disappointment.

It was weeks before everything was outlined properly. They decided to present a business plan, a draft of the one she was intending to use for her applications for licensure and permits. The family was able to talk it out properly at that point, and move on, but it took work.

Who or what is your character currently proudest of? Why?

Ionna’s pretty proud of herself. She had a dream and she built it and while it doesn’t always thrive, it is surviving. And she gets to run her business her way, and has the support to do the parts that she wants to do the most. Supposedly, it’s the american dream.

Explain why your character has moved to/stayed in NYC?

She got familiar with the city initially when she started doing her internships with non-profits and charities in between semesters of college. There was (and is) so much need, and while they know there’s need everywhere, they had the connections there to start building their dream of running a point of contact for resources and help out of a bar.

Was it crazy? Absolutely.

Would she do it differently? Absolutely not.

If your character was having a bad day, which of these would they prefer as a means to cheer them up? Their favorite dish, a massage, or some space?

Food. Hands down. No question. Ionna loves food. And wine. But mostly food. Her family was pretty quick to instill that particular love. Family dinners. All-out feasts for holidays and festivals whenever possible. Teaching the basics of cooking at a young age.

Her grandma’s spanakopita is one of the best savory comfort foods.

There’s a section of the menu dedicated to Greek cuisine that’s often designed by Ionna, and like most of the menu, is adjusted seasonally to compensate for the local farms and business support.

What usually jump starts their day? Coffee? Exercise? A Shower? Breakfast? Or something else entirely?

Pingu decides how and, often, when the morning starts. Morning walkies is sometimes morning joggies. And then a shower, unless it’s a gym day.

Does your character thrive in order or chaos?

They eat most flavours of chaos for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but even they have their limits. They’re very grateful for their office staff who tend to handle the Order of the bar a bit better.

Would your character say that their parents were/are good at being parents?

Their late twenties into their thirties came with a certain change of perspective. Her parents were definitely parents. Sometimes their choices sucked, but their hearts were in the right places and they never meant any harm. They weren’t bad, but they definitely had the practice to deal with her baby sister and have, in Ionna’s mind, done a lot better in some respects.

What scares your character the most?

After losing her bar? Internally? Being alone. Or having to face hardship alone. They put so much of themselves out into the world that the worst feeling in the world would be to not have anyone there when they need someone most.

What did the last relationship your character was in teach them?

If they make repeated, passive aggressive comments about your profession, it probably runs as a deeper problem and they can either figure it out and get over it, or it’s time to move on. It’s just not worth the time wasted combating their negative fixation on something that’s a core part of her life.

If your character could choose 1 superpower, what would it be and why?

I think she’d want to be super fast. Or the ability to read minds.

What’s something people often misunderstand about your character?

Socially, she’s very awkward without meaning to be, and it’s not really because she’s poorly practiced or anything in particular. They have just ended up three or four steps ahead in the conversation (in her head), and assume the other person has managed to stay on the same page when they’re two and a half pages behind because that’s how time and conversations work.

What is something your character tends to procrastinate on?

Paperwork. It’s boring. It’s not pointless but it feels obvious. It’s necessary. But it’s still boring to such a degree it should be a sin. Ionna doesn’t know what to do when all of her office staff end up having vacations or emergencies all at the same time.

Well. She does. She just hates doing it so it takes three times as long as it really should.

Where does your character like to go/what does your character like to do for inspiration?

When she’s working on menus, they tend to throw “parties.” They are less party and more test bed for future food or drink items. But the guests don’t necessarily know that. It does mean they tend to happen more at season change time once she knows what fresh produce will be available.

There’s always a big spread of lunch and dinner samples, and she tends the bar herself on the condition that it’s dealer’s choice on the drink.

Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t.

They still haven’t gotten the mulled pumpkin spice mead to work out properly and haven’t figured out why.

Does your character usually follow their head or their heart?

They lean pretty heavily on their heart to start, but the head does catch up to what’s going on eventually and evens the keel.

Who or what brings your character the most joy in their life today?

Pingu for a who, though Calliope is always a delight to be around. Who condensed sunshine and infused it with that girl?

She also really loves it when a client who’s been referred to support services comes back to visit in a better position than when they’d initially stumbled into their bar. It’s not necessarily a reminder of why they do what they do, but it does bolster their resolve to keep going.

Does your character have a hero or someone they admire or look up to? If so, who and why?

With the perspective of proper adulthood, Ionna’s really come around to admiring her parents. They’ve worked really hard to build what they have, and they didn’t succumb to the desire to continue expanding and end up over-stretching themselves. They decided what they were going to do and how much they wanted to put into it and what they wanted out of it, and then they didn’t give in to the pull to do more than that.

From a business owner perspective, that seems like such an easy trap to fall into. Ionna does want to keep expanding the supports available, yes, but she doesn’t want to fall into the trap of having multiple locations for the sake of profit. That’s not what she’s here for. She’s here to help, to be a safe place for folks to have a good time, and to treat her employees well.

Is your character much of a reader? If so, what author(s) do they like?

They’re less for literature and more for recipe books. But books, not necessarily websites with inane blog posts that drone on for twelve paragraphs too long. Other how-tos are also appreciated, since they like to at least try and do things on their own.

Does your character like surprises? How do they tend to react to surprises?

Ionna likes nice surprises. Less so surprises from Pingu since those are often smelly, if few and far between.

Gifts are pretty important to them, for a lot of occasions. It’s not necessarily common in American culture, so whenever anyone remembers it’s a joy and tends to leave her impressed for a good while afterward.

Is there anything that your character collects? If so, what is it/what are they?

They have a sizeable collection of corks from favoured bottles of wine or bottles from special occasions. Eventually they want to turn it into a table, but they don’t have enough yet.

[bunnylouisegrimes]

Unusual Thanksgiving (NOS4A2 Longish-Drabble Fic)

(A/N: As of writing this, it’s the weekend. I’ve noticed at least every weekend for a few weeks now I post some short little Drabble to help let out my emotions. Here’s another one that’s a little bit longer. With Thanksgiving coming up and my ass having little time to think of something and cook it up (pun intended), I thought I’d take the approach of having whatever come to my mind and writing it out. It’s a unique one, as you don’t usually associate horror and angst alongside the family fluffiness of Thanksgiving, but... here we are! I remember a while back I wrote how Rose’s parents would react to her having a relationship with Charlie, and that was one of my inspirations, alongside how rough things are this year. I’d like to wish you all Happy Thanksgiving ahead of time. Stay safe and enjoy a good ass feast. It’s been tough, and it’s had some highlights, but now’s the time we can all put aside our differences and whatever else bullshit and be thankful about what we do have this year; whether it be supplies or each other, we’ll get through this. 🧡🍂🍁🦃)

(Apologize for no Read More, posting this from mobile, and I found the image randomly, so if you want credit, let me know).

November is a beautiful and calming time of the year, but under certain circumstances, it can be oddly scary. This is most likely due to how dead the world is. There’s usually no snow, and what leaves remain are brown, have decayed from the trees, and collapsed to the ground to crumble and rot. I noticed this when I was younger, and part of me thought November was spookier than Halloween in some cases.

Of course, to me, any time of the year could be scary. Horror doesn’t stop and end at one point; it is an infinite occurrence that follows humanity wherever we go.

From the time I was a little kid, I would find horror in the most obscure of places. Scary movies never bothered me, and in fact, I was always excited when I watched them. What should’ve terrified me brought me nothing but adrenaline and fascination. Instead, odd things scared me, things most people would poke fun at if they saw my reaction to them, things most would shrug off. Call me Freudian, but perhaps my fears, just as yours are, are based in our differing subconscious minds, so there is no true definition of “stupid” horror.

The one thing that I know for certain that’s frightened me since I was younger are bees, wasps, yellow jackets, and hornets. Why these little yellow and black bugs terrify me, I will never truly know the answer as to why. Is it because they’re so small, yet they can hurt you so badly? Is it because of their appearance? I don’t want bees to die out, as I know of their importance, and bumbles don’t bother me because they usually leave you alone (and they’re oddly cute), but any other bee or wasp can stay away from me. I’ve never even been stung by one, yet one buzz or sight of one near me makes my body react instantaneously. I get away as much as I can and even scream sometimes. Not wise to scream or move a lot when you’re in their presence, I know. But when your body reacts the way it does, what are you to do?

When I was a little bit older, I would say roughly 8 or 9 years old, a new type of fear spawned its way into my mind: the fear of shadow people.

I don’t know what it is about those things either that scare me so much. When I first discovered I had this fear, I believe I was watching an episode of Ghost Adventures, and I saw them capture a really clear shadow figure on camera. It chilled me to the bone, and from then on, just the thought of one creeped me out. One particular episode where the crew went to an old, abandoned and haunted Tuberculosis sanitarium got to me because shadow figures were prominent there, and they actually captured two on camera going down a long hallway.

Shadow people, from what I’ve seen online, are very mysterious. They could come from another dimension, they could be demonic; some are harmless, others are harmful, and it’s all dependent on what experience you have with them. Zak Bagans and his crew have come across quite a few demonic ones, and their guests have usually described them as tall, thin, 6-7 foot tall entities that are dark both in physicality and energy. They look like an individual spray painted with pitch black aerosol, and darker than a room if it were void of all light. Sometimes they have red or white eyes, and sometimes they can have differing appearances that are just as terrifying as the blank appearances they often have. They can stand there and look over you while you’re sleeping at night, they can stand in a corner and stare at you, maybe rocking a bit, they could dart down a hallway, hiding from you, they can crawl on the floor, they can crawl on the ceiling... whatever it is they do, it’s all bone chilling to me, and I hate it all with a burning passion. I don’t care even if they were harmless: If I were to ever see one in real life, I would have a heart attack.

That is why I am thankful I’ve only seen them either when I’m paranoid for whatever reason before I go to sleep (but they’re not really there, my mind’s just playing tricks on me), or if I have a nightmare and they’re present. This story will focus on the latter.

*************************************************

Halloween, Charlie’s birthday on November 1st, the Election... it all came and left sooner than expected, and we needed to plan what we were doing about Thanksgiving. I know, a vampire who’s all about Christmas celebrating other holidays. It seems unreal, but I assure you, he has respect for other holidays as well. Christmas just happens to be his favorite and one that brings him and the kids lots of comfort and joy. They say Christmas is a state of mind and is never truly over, so... I suppose Charlie is just a living embodiment of that saying.

With COVID still in full swing, and cases breaking records everyday, people were stocking up on supplies yet again alongside their Turkey Day feasts. We knew we had to hurry up and order stuff the week before Thanksgiving at most.

Living in Gunbarrel, Colorado, away from everyone except for each other and the kids when we spent quite a few days in Christmasland each week, it was relieving to know we weren’t around tons of people. The virus wouldn’t affect Charlie or the kids, but me being the only human, and one with asthma, it would, so it was calming to not have to worry as much as many other folks about exposure. Not to mention, the town was small, and everybody knew everybody. Whenever we did enter town, which took 10 minutes to get to, we would see everyone keeping their distance and respecting each other. It was nice to see our small and (just about) off-the-grid community helping each other during these times.

The only two local stores were an Acme that everyone went to, and the Gunbarrel General Store, owned by a kindly old man who looked like Santa Clause named Sam. Before everyone rushed to Acme, we decided on doing a curbside pickup order, and picking up anything else that was not available at Sam’s, as he was sure to provide lots of Thanksgiving food.

It was going to certainly be an interesting Thanksgiving without my usual family, and not being back home, but I was going to call them on that fateful Thursday and talk to them for a few hours. Charlie and I would have a small dinner together, and we would spend most of the day in Christmasland with our children, dining on delicious food and laughing together. The thought warmed my heart and made me feel better about this Thanksgiving. We would be okay, and everything would be fine, despite my horrible dreams...

For whatever reason, over these past few weeks, my dreams were plagued with shadow people haunting me. No explanation was given, and no explanation would need to be given for it to still occur and damn near break me. Maybe it was some sort of unresolved issue going through the back of my mind, maybe it was fueled by my stresses of being busy lately, but regardless of whatever the issue was, I was haunted by them. The day after Charlie’s birthday, we watched the original Nosferatu together, and I fell asleep near the end, experiencing the first of these dreams.

I was walking down a dark and cold hallway. I was 8 years old again. I don’t know how I knew this, but it was one of those instances where you know a random piece of information in a dream. I was holding two small plastic My Little Pony figurines I got from Happy Meals at that time, a small Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash. I hadn’t seen those toys in years, yet there they were in my hands. When I looked up, a shadow person was standing near the end of the pathway. It stood tall and authoritative, looming over me as if it wanted to grab me and drag me down the corridor straight into Hell, or wherever it came from.

I took off running, and it crawled on all fours after me. I screamed and kept running until I came across a goofy, tall, and lanky figure: Count Orlock, or the actual Nosferatu himself, was standing there. I hid behind him and begged him to protect me. He smiled his stupid smile and looked down at the shadowy behemoth. It seemed to back down a bit once he snarled at it. It backed up behind a corner, peaking at us once before vanishing.

My relief was short lived for only a few moments because Orlock wandered off into the darkness.

“Where are you going? Come back here!” I tried to call after him, but I was cut off by the shadow figure crawling on the ceiling and grabbing me. I gave a scream and found myself awake on the couch, springing to life and hearing the opening music to Downton Abbey greeting me. Charlie had tuned in after the movie. He looked at me with a confused and concerned look. I explained everything to him and he comforted me, laughing at the thought of the original Nosferatu visiting me.

The dreams afterward were more terrifying than the first. One dream featured a shadow person staring over me as I slept, another featured one standing in the corner of the room twisting and contorting its head violently. The third had a shadow figure hunched over near a window within an abandoned building. I was walking through the woods in another nightmare when a whole group of them were peaking at me through the trees. I ran down another hallway and one was behind me. I was in an unknown house and down the hall near the steps, one was charging towards me. Each time, I would wake up and feel unsettled. Charlie would comfort me, but it was always hard to fall back asleep, for I feared I’d be terrorized by the evil onyx creatures wanting nothing more than to consume me in their shadowy force and make my soul rot.

Despite all of my terror and the tiredness that accompanied my days, the focus for today would have to be Thanksgiving dinner.

“My mom mailed me the recipe to her sweet potatoes last week, and let me tell you, they are actually sweet and delicious,” I told Charlie. “So you can put down all the ingredients for that. We already got turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes written down... Oh! Green bean casserole, put that down... and we need apple and pumpkin pie. We already have whip cream and gravy in the fridge, and cider is in the cabinet. I think that’s everything.”

Charlie nodded and wrote these things down. Once he was done, he looked over the list and showed me.

“Yup, that’s everything! Alright, let’s look up to see what Acme has.”

As I pulled up the site on my phone, he spoke up.

“Rosie, are you bothered by not seeing your family? If so, we can visit them on Thanksgiving Day or I could go the extra mile and bring them here if you’d like.”

I sighed and rubbed my temple. “I’m alright, baby. I know they’ll be alright too. Things seem to be... okay between us, even if we did get into arguments since last we spoke in person.”

He looked down and felt guilty.

“Hey, don’t you feel guilty,” I reassured him. “It’s their fault, not yours. They see you in whatever light they want to, but I know who you really are, and I love you. I don’t care what they say or think about you, hence why I’m sticking by you and left with you to come here.”

He nodded and pulled me close to him, resting his chin on my head. “I admit, my darling, I am constantly bothered by this thought that I have destroyed the relationship you have with your family.”

“Like I said, they’re the ones that can’t accept that you and I truly love each other. I’ve been patient and offered them every chance to accept you. I’ve explained and talked to them, but they don’t want to listen to my reasoning. I don’t know what else to do.”

He kissed me on the cheek and said, “I’m glad that you at least still talk to each other.”

“Me too. At least we have that... but let’s not worry about that. We got food to focus on.”

We ordered everything that we could (the only things not available until the week of Thanksgiving were the two pies, but we knew Sam would have them). When the time came, we loaded into the Wraith and the trunk was packed with our dinner. We stopped by the General Store and Sam happily gave “Father Christmas” (as Charlie was known as) the pies. Since it was still light out, we decided to go for a drive to enjoy the autumn weather. As I mentioned before, November is usually dead and brown, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t peaceful and calm. We observed the soothing and cold weather as Fleetwood Mac and The Doors sang along on the old radio.

While gazing at the brown leaves and bare trees rocking their branches above us, I drifted off to sleep without even thinking about it. Stevie Nicks and Jim Morrison’s voices melted into oblivion as I found myself walking through a tranquil forest of dead trees. Cold, I wrapped my arms around myself until I felt a bit warmer, and I saw a grove of orange trees. It was as if I teleported back in time to October, and the trees were still alive with vibrant color.

I ran over to them, taken aback by their beauty. The leaves that were on the ground were still orange, and I tossed them up into the air with childish carelessness. At last! For once, I was having a good dream!

However, that enjoyment would be cut short when I looked into the distance in between the trees. The world and my joy winded down like a dying record player.

From somewhere beyond the misty horizon, a pair of white eyes were watching me.

Dread hit me and I ran away. The trees began to rot again, and the orange faded into brown. The sunlight morphed into fog, and the warmth dissipated from my body. I fell to the ground, tripping over my own clumsy feet.

Now I was somewhere entirely different. I was in a dark, unfamiliar bedroom. I couldn’t move except for my eyes, like I was suffering from sleep paralysis. I looked up to see the shadow figure that was hiding behind the trees. Its white eyes were dimmer than before, and its solid black body cast lighter shadows behind it. I tried to scream, but I could only choke out vocalizations as it covered my mouth.

It lifted its ice cold hand from my mouth and pointed to the left. My eyes glanced in that direction and a scream broke from my throat.

A pointy eared demon with beady eyes, a close together face, and a sickening smile was on top of my chest. Its body was too dark to make out any notable features, but it was lighter than the shadow next to me. The pressure on top of me crushed the life from my lungs. It continued to smile, as if nothing in the world bothered it at all.

Before my scream ran out of air, it wrapped its cold hands around my neck and tightened to the point it was strangling me. The rest of my scream died out, my eye sight was fading until it was only a pinhole...

Air rushed into my lungs as I jolted into a conscience state once again. My eyes darted rapidly and my body clung to the leather seat of the Wraith. We were no longer driving, and instead parked in the garage. A wave of nausea flooded my head and stomach, and I pressed my hand to my eyes. My mind finally registered Charlie’s soft voice.

“Rose! My sweet Rose! Whatever is the matter?”

“I... Jesus Christ... I... had another nightmare... this was... Good God, how else could I describe it?!”

While we gathered the groceries into the house, I detailed my horrifying dream to him. He was immensely disturbed and decided enough was enough.

“I know you believe in ghosts and demons and the sort,” said he, “and I know such things exist, since I’ve seen spirits and souls before. Because of this, you and I can pray before you go to sleep tonight. Unlike other vampires, holy things do not bother me, unless I were to drink or touch holy salt or holy water, in which case I would feel some discomfort thanks to the darker side of my being. I have an old angel doll that my daughters used to play with and hold whenever they felt uncomfortable or scared. That could help you too. I will hypnotize you and make you have sweet dreams. If any dark entity is going to mess with you, I will protect you. I don’t think you have an attachment, but these dreams are certainly unusual.”

I agreed to all of this. That night, we said a prayer together, I snuggled with the angel doll, and he hypnotized me to sleep. I had a dream I couldn’t remember, but it was certainly the most peaceful I had in a while, and it was even better then the beginning of that nightmare I had that evening.

A sense of purity filled my heart, and I knew nothing dark would ever hurt me or anyone I loved, as whatever God that may be out there as my witness.

*************************************************

Thanksgiving arrived at an unbelievably fast rate. No other bad dreams tormented me, and I couldn’t have felt more happy. Charlie and I worked together to prep dinner. When I finished making sure the turkey was good and putting it in the oven, Charlie presented me with a package.

“It’s from your home,” he observed.

I opened it up at the dining room table and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It was the Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash figurines from my childhood. Underneath them, was a heartfelt letter from my family, detailing how they had recently found these toys and thought of me. They missed me, and they even apologized for all of their harsh words against me and Charlie. They gave it some thought, and they came to the conclusion that as long as I was happy and in love, and as long as Charlie truly loved me and treated me well, then all was perfectly fine. They wished us a very happy Thanksgiving from 2 hours ahead and many miles away.

Tears fell from my cheeks. I was crying of joy for more than the obvious reason being that my family and I were rekindling together.

I realized now why I had such horrible dreams. It was either my worries and fears of my family not being together haunting me, or maybe even some dark force, but Twily and Dashie here weren’t random parts of that first dream at all; they served as symbolism. They represented hope and familial innocence long lost, now brought back to light. Maybe they sent a message out in the universe to my family that Charlie was a good man. That could also be why Orlock was protecting me in that same dream, but him leaving symbolized my family keeping Charlie away from me, therefore causing bad things to happen to me. And perhaps when Charlie helped me and cleansed all darkness (regardless of it being real or not), those ponies knew ahead of time he was going to do that, and reassured my family he was always going to protect me. It sounded bizarre, but it was the best reasoning I could come up with to explain these odd coincidences.

I immediately called my family afterwards and told them everything. They were chilled themselves because my mother had a dream the night before about Charlie bringing forth bouts of light to protect me from a wave of darkness, and she thought it was her brain processing her acceptance of him, but now that my story was told, it made things even clearer.

We concluded talking by coming up with a date to have dinner together and to see each other again back home. We exchanged I love yous and Happy Thanksgivings, and I hung up feeling thankful. As Charlie and I ate a bit of dinner, as we went to Christmasland, and as we ate lots of food with our children, warmth and light abundant, I was grateful that I had the family I did, the boyfriend and children that I did, and the light that still shined in the universe, even on the most darkest of days. This year has been hard, but gratitude for all the good, hope, and love, even when we’re distant figuratively, literally, or both, makes this holiday season a brighter one.

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 6)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone – so I will start this chapter by saying we have quite a bit of intrigue happening here. Some of you may not be thrilled with where I am leaving things, fair warning it is not the fluffiest of places, and some may even call it a dreaded cliff hanger, BUT I promise that the next chapter for this story is already prepped and will be ready for posting next weekend. You will all be way happier with me in the next few chapters, but in the meantime,  I hope you still enjoy the fic and I can’t wait to hear what you all think!

How the fuck did it come to this?

The question had been plaguing him since the moment he left Emma’s side yesterday afternoon and landed in the middle of a political minefield, and he was no closer to an answer about how to get out of this giant mess.

Of course, he knew the facts: yesterday his brother had called him to parliament, a place where Killian very rarely played a role. He hadn’t been there in years, and even then, it was only a formality, but this time he was summoned through some antiquated process no one had ever heard of. What ensued thereafter was nothing short of a disaster. His mandated presence was initially thought to be merely a stall tactic, but then everything flipped and suddenly his brother lost control of what was supposed to be a historic day for the passing of landmark legislation.

Since taking the throne, Liam had been working diligently to change the very system of governing in Montenarro. He wanted more representation for the people, and to have more democratic processes in spite of the presence of the monarchy. He’d worked tirelessly for years to endear his cause to a largely unresponsive parliament, and finally he believed he had enough votes to make a bold and substantial change. He’d even made sure to cover his tracks, getting every signed-on lord to publicly state their support of the bill, but it turned out there were traitors in their midst, and when Killian arrived it became a full-blown spectacle filled with anger and hostility and nonsense.

For nearly an hour Killian bore witness to the political betrayal and the humiliation that followed. A group of usurpers, led by a Viscount with a long held vendetta, proceeded to fill the hallowed halls of parliament with lies and slander and speculation. Most of it actually centered around Killian, and all of it was completely preposterous. These lords were ‘suspicious’ of his absence from public life since being discharged from the navy, of his hesitancy to return to his role as Prince, and of his lack of ‘direction.’ The men went on and on about what kind of message it sent to the people when leaders failed to lead and represent the interests of the citizenry. It was absolutely ridiculous and infuriating. He’d been out of the military for one month – one month! – and apparently failing to return to center stage in that time made him untrustworthy and ‘wayward.’ There was absolutely no consideration for what he’d gone through in serving at all. In the end it didn’t matter – he was always a prince before he was a man, and expectations didn’t waiver, no matter what he’d given to this country or its people.

Liam, to his credit, was absolutely furious, and he’d made sure to lambast the men who criticized Killian, pointing out their dishonor and their disrespect for men and women in uniform. He reminded them all of how out of touch one must be to assume that a man or woman who’d been on active deployment and been party to war would want to just jump back into the fray with no caution or hesitations. Every soldier was different, and every single one of them deserved respect when they’d fought valiantly and enduringly for the country’s safety and interests. It helped Killian to hear his brother’s candid disdain for these men and their actions, and though they had never really discussed the ghosts of Killian’s service, it reminded Killian that Liam understood and that he valued the sacrifice he made all these years. But still it all came to nothing. The lords did not bow to any call for decency, the bill never was presented, the motion was halted, and despite how ridiculous it all was, a nefarious dialogue had been started. Now some people were curious about where Killian was and what he was doing, putting Liam in an incredibly uncomfortable place. In fact, it was so bad a situation that he’d done something he had never done before – he’d gone back on a promise he made to Killian.

That reneging of his word was the ultimate show of dishonor in Liam’s eyes, but it didn’t help Killian that his brother was sick over this choice. Killian was still being sacrificed in a way for the sake of saving face, and the way it would be done meant that Killian was, for lack of a better phrasing, royally screwed. He was totally and completely fucked, because right now, within the next, oh ten minutes or so, he’d be leaving with his family in the royal precession headed for the capital. It was one of the nation’s most cherished holidays, a celebration of independence and military success, but Killian had missed it for years and intended to miss it this year as well. He hadn’t felt ready for such a moment, loud, rambunctious, and public as it was. He’d been nowhere near crowds like this in many years, and the sound of fireworks and sparklers might trigger something in him, along with the high intensity of the crowd itself. But when Liam requested this, Killian kept those fears quiet. He was ashamed to admit that weakness, and now he was making a huge public appearance, one of the largest of the year. Still in spite of all the anxiety that would come just from the processions, it wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was that – through the agonizing stupidity of his own choices – he still had not told Emma the truth.

This lack of disclosure did not come from lack of trying. He’d been forced to remain in chambers in Parliament without his phone until almost midnight, and by then it was too late to call her or go and see her face to face. Emma was asleep for the night and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her in a voicemail. He’d then decided to go to her this morning, but there was physically no way for him to do so. Every route, and he did mean every route, from the palace to her house was blocked off for the processions or being monitored by the media. It was truly nightmarish. As such, he’d done the only thing he could think to do. He wrote out his feelings to her, his worries and his confession. It was long, it was ugly, but it was real. In the letter he apologized profusely for never telling her the truth. He acknowledged that any pain she would feel was his fault and his alone, and he practically begged her to give him another chance. As soon as it was written he entrusted it to one of Jefferson’s team and he waited twenty minutes for confirmation that it was delivered to her home.

The seconds ticked by while he waited for her reply, slowly and terribly, and finally he caved and sent her a text. It said he was thinking of her, and reiterated his intention to talk to her more tonight. Now here he was, hours later, and he’d still heard nothing. He was in excruciating pain, and the only thing worse than not knowing where Emma stood was that he was forced into the customs and practices of this holiday. He was made to go along with a song and dance he hated, and now he was wearing his royal regalia, feeling a fool and a sham and a downright wretch.

“That collar is not going to get any more comfortable for fidgeting with it,” his grandmother’s voice said, drawing his attention back to where he was, outside waiting for the procession to begin from the castle grounds.

His mother and grandmother were set to ride in the coach as he and Liam rode behind them on horseback, but his grandmother wasn’t interested in complying with the order to sit patiently and wait until the very last minute. Instead she ushered him towards her, and began straightening his royal suit. She tidied all his medals and the pins of his military service, and made sure each line of his jacket was crisp and clean. It was clearly something she’d been doing for many years, and the action came naturally to her, so much more so than for Killian.

“For someone who detests the charade of royal life, you really do look so handsome.”

“Thank you, Gran,” he said, but he didn’t mean it. The words were kindly given, but impossible to value when there was so much else he was desperate to engage with.

“But there’s something more, isn’t there? You’re worried about this. Why? Because it’s been a while?” He shook his head. “Is there somewhere you’d rather be?”

He bit back the retort that there were about a million places he would rather be, but she knew his feelings. “There’s a woman isn’t there?” Bloody hell, how had she figured that out?

“Aye,” Killian admitted after a moment’s hesitation. It was no use hiding from his Gran. The old woman was like a blood hound, drawn into the smallest scent and hell bent on tracking until the truth was out.

“And you’re missing her now, are you?” his grandmother said with a nod. “Good. Real loves never bloom for the faint of heart. A good dose of yearning, and a little bit of missing your fair maiden won’t kill anyone. It’s just one day, dear.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Gran.”

“Things usually are. I’m assuming she’s not from any of the royal circles. If she were there’d be far more chatter afoot. Not a one of those ladies of court can keep a secret. It’s positively ludicrous.”

“She has nothing to do with this world,” Killian agreed, woeful at the fact that she might reject it, but so glad Emma was not like those other women. She was so much more wonderful for being real and genuine. He would never change a thing about her. It was everyone else who should change as far as he was concerned.

“She’s uneasy with you being a prince, isn’t she?”

“She will be.”

“Will be?” his grandmother asked, her brows furrowing together in a look of actual concern. “I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t understand.”

“She didn’t know, Gran. She’s not from here. She’s a woman I met at the Institute. Her name is Emma.”

“Emma,” his grandmother said, nodding, like this announcement of his affection for a stranger who worked at their family’s charity was the most natural thing he’d ever said to her, despite the fact that he’d never mentioned to any of his family how much Emma meant to him. “But what do you mean she didn’t know? You mean about the holiday service?”

“About any of it. She didn’t realize I’m a prince. I’ve only just told her this morning in a letter.”

“That’s not possible,” his grandmother said and then her hand came up to cover her mouth in what could only be described as horror. “Oh my word. You’re serious. This morning? A letter?! Killian, what were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in distress. His grandmother’s agitation only added to his own. “I’ve gone about things all wrong, Gran. I know that.”

“Explain it to me, Killian. Make me understand. How did it come to this?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. At first I thought she knew who I was, and then she didn’t and it was selfish of me not to tell her-,”

“You can say that again,” his grandmother quipped, seemingly annoyed on Emma’s behalf though she didn’t even know her. “Foolishness. Pure foolishness.”

“I know I’ve messed up. I’ve known it all along, but if you knew her, you’d understand. I didn’t want to risk it. Emma defies explanation. Special isn’t the term, for she’s so much more than that. I know it was wrong not to tell her front the start, but I just wanted…” He trailed off, knowing it was useless trying to explain.

“You wanted to be yourself, without the title and the attention,” his grandmother said with a sadness in her voice. She knew his heart in this, and she felt for him, but tragically it changed nothing. “Oh my boy, my dear, sweet Killy, this is quite a mess to be in.”

They were both quiet for a moment, thinking to themselves, and Killian felt sick to his stomach at all that he’d done. This was truly all his fault and the guilt was beginning to unravel him. His grandmother though, was not yet done figuring this out. “So what did she say about it all? How did she take the letter?”

“She hasn’t responded,” Killian said hopelessly, bringing his phone up to check again. Yet again, nothing. Silence from his Swan.

“She probably needs time,” his grandmother said sympathetically. “And you’ll give her just as much time as this procession lasts before seeing her.”

“But the events after -,”

“Are not your concern,” his grandmother said vehemently. “You are hereby excused from those.”

“Gran, it’s not that simple. Viscount Mabrey -,”

“Viscount Mabrey can hang,” his grandmother said with a viciousness he’d never witnessed. It wasn’t refined but it was real, and he agreed with the assessment entirely. As the man who was leading this circus of speculation about his life, Mabrey was Killian’s worst enemy at the moment. “And I don’t care what Liam says. You shouldn’t even be here. Making you choose between Emma and the family… It’s just cruel, never mind undignified and unfeeling.”

“He doesn’t know about her,” Killian said and Gran laughed. She actually laughed and shot him a look like he was foolish.

“Are we speaking of the same Liam, your elder brother? The King of this country and sovereign of this crown, not knowing every last detail at play in his kingdom? Unlikely. No, he knows about her. Jefferson will have told him,” Gran said, prompting discomfort in Killian’s gut. Then she appeared to look a bit more forgiving as she weighed the possibilities. “Though perhaps no one has realized her ignorance on your origins. I certainly didn’t know.”

Killian’s brow furrowed at her comment, but his confusion was distracted by another question from her. “Did you ask her to come here at all? To see you? What are we to expect?”

“She was never planning to watch the procession, and I can’t imagine she’d want to now,” Killian confirmed, reiterating what Emma had told him previously. “She and her son were planning to go to the beach for the day, and no matter what state she may be in,” his throat closed up at admitting that she’d be hurting because of him. “Emma would never break a promise to her boy. They’ll likely miss the whole thing.”

“Mmm,” his grandmother replied. The hum was so noncommittal it only added to Killian’s agitation. But then she turned to him and looked serious. “Well you answer me this, Killian, and be warned if you lie not even the Gods of old can help you, do you truly care for the girl?”

“Yes.” In fact, caring for Emma was an understatement. His feelings, new as they were, went so much deeper than that.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes,” he admitted, knowing that this bond he felt to her was not a fleeting sort of fancy. He did love Emma, for all her many pieces. The way she loved helping people, the nurturing way she always had, the light in her eyes, the lilt of her laugh. She was perfect and good and true, and he never had any hope of deserving her, but damn did he want to. So badly it left an ache in his chest.

“And is there anything you won’t do to make this up to her?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied firmly, knowing that promise was absolute.

That was part of what was killing him now. He wanted to go this instant and beg forgiveness like a man. To look her in her eyes and explain to her how this had all come to be. Yet he couldn’t even give that to her. He was bound by a duty to his family, and he had never resented that duty more in his life. Even now he considered the merits of being here. He could go, show her how much she meant to him, and how she’d always come first from now on. But doing that would only humiliate his family. It would add flames to the fire and mean giving up the loyalty he’d always had for the people he was closest to.

“Good.” She answered, nodding her head and clapping her hands together in a matter-of-fact manner. “Well, dear, sometimes people make bad choices, and when they do, they must make amends. That’s all that can be done. You must do everything you can to make this right. It’s as simple as that,”

“That’s it? No sage counsel or particular detail on how to go about it?” Killian asked. He was desperate for guidance here. Should he call her? Should he wait? Should he go to her? What was he meant to do? What could be done at this point?

“My dear, the mistakes of men are frequent and seemingly unending. A queen does herself no favors getting mired down in them,” she said with a sigh, not helping him with the reminder that he was among those mistaken men. But she shook her head and then affectionately patted his arm in a sign of support. “Just remember this: your heart always knows which way to go. You’ll make this right, and when you do, I’d like to officially meet this young woman. All right?”

“Okay, Gran.”

With a quick pat to his cheek, his grandmother turned and entered the carriage with his mother who was watching curiously. The two of them shared a few words, but Killian didn’t pay much mind, for at the same moment Liam descended from the palace and things began moving rather quickly. It was time for them all to depart, and Killian could only gear himself up for what would be a painful few hours and hope that everything would somehow be okay.

…………………….

Waking up this morning, Emma had to admit to herself that she was really and honestly happy. The feeling was somewhat new for her, certainly in such a bold and front and center way, but after yesterday with Killian it was impossible to feel otherwise. The hope that he’d inspired in her and the heat that she still felt all these hours later, all prompted a smile she let loose as soon as she woke, and that had stayed with her all morning. To know that this man who had her tied up in knots felt the same way made her feel like a kid with their first crush. But despite the strange fluttering in her chest that came and went, and the constant distraction that her mind seemed plagued with these days, she didn’t actually hate it. If anything, Emma craved this feeling, loving that for the first time in so many years she felt eager to take a chance on something and someone other than herself and her son.

She’d been ready to take that step a while ago, feeling the draw to Killian for some time now, but after yesterday and that kiss, she was totally lost. She may be guarded, but Emma Swan was no fool. She could admit defeat when beaten, and right now her interest and her hope that this might be something real and true had won out. Hours later she could still taste him on her tongue. She felt the silky strands of his hair on her fingertips and the hard lines of his body pressed against her. The heat and the spark between them was all consuming, and the look in his eyes when they broke apart and he promised he’d see her soon -

“Mom, do you think I should bring my snorkeling mask or my regular goggles?”

Emma jumped at Henry’s question, which forced her out of her daydream so quickly she had whiplash. She shook her head, reminding herself that this was not the time or place. She was on Mom duty right now and she was supposed to be packing their lunch and snacks for the beach. But last night, when she was alone and all her responsibilities were met for the day, she’d allowed herself to imagine what could have happened if things were different. Would the moment have lasted longer? Would it have ended at the preserve?

“Mom?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion at her continued distractedness.

“Sorry, kid. Let’s go with snorkeling. It’s been hard for you to find the space to do that to this point, but I think today you’ll have the room to try.”

Henry agreed with her thinking and raced back to his room to grab his things while Emma chastised herself for her wayward thoughts. Now was totally not the time to be caught up in thoughts of Killian, hard as it might be to resist. She and her kid were spending the day together and she needed to focus on that. Henry and her had planned this outing all week, and she wanted to be present with him, even if a niggling though in the back of her mind wondered what it would be like if Killian was coming too. She already knew that Henry and he would get along. Killian had a way of making every kid he met love him, and her son was smart. He read people even better than she did, and Henry loved a good story, which Killian had plenty of.

“Someday maybe,” Emma whispered aloud as she packed the sandwiches in their temperature-controlled bag, but she knew there was no maybe. If things headed where she hoped they would, Killian and Henry meeting would come to pass, and probably soon. But for now, she’d soak in these precious moments with her kid and enjoy a little R and R down at the seaside.

Placing all of their picnic supplies in one bag and double checking that her tote had sunscreen, books, and other things they’d need down by the water, Emma stayed focused on her task. She took comfort in the mental checklist she had going, and when she was confident that they had everything, Henry appeared, carrying his snorkeling gear and smiling a megawatt smile that made her heart so happy.

“You have everything you’ll want for the day?” Emma asked and when Henry nodded she gave him another chance to double check. “Remember we won’t be home until late.”

“I know, Mom. We’re still going to the Center for a visit right? Cook said she’s making that fancy chocolate cake again!” Henry said, nearly as excited by the prospect of this dessert as he was for their beach day.

“Yup. I already told Marco to expect us. Dinner will be served at six thirty.”

Henry threw his fist into the air in some kind of celebratory move and Emma laughed at his antics, shaking her head and looking to all the stuff they had to get out the door and to the coastline. “And you’re totally sure you don’t need to see the parade? It may be fun,” Emma suggested, but she secretly hoped Henry would want to stick to their original plan.

“No way! Beach beats parade every day of the week. Especially this beach. It’s the best!”

Emma appreciated her son’s dedication to sunshine and the seaside. Truth be told, she and Henry had been burned by enough New York parades to be a little jaded. They always sounded like a whole lot of fun in theory, but there was a huge crowd of people which Emma never loved, and at every event there were people who just wanted to get wasted. It was pretty stressful as a parent, and Henry never really liked the noise. He was a quieter kid and preferred more peaceful moments, which were rare when living in the city. As such, they tended to avoid big events like this and made a habit of being wherever the masses weren’t. Today they’d decided the beach might be a good option. They’d managed to go a few times since arriving, and it was always fun but busy. Today they may have more space to themselves, and both she and Henry loved the idea of a beach to themselves.

It was still wild to Emma that they lived in a city with such easy access to a coastline, and not some questionable harbor view, but glorious, magazine worthy beaches. Everyone who lived here acknowledged that they were a hidden gem, and Emma knew if the world ever got wind of what they were missing in this tiny country then flocks of people would descend. She hated to imagine that though, since most of the charm of this country came from its authenticity. There were no touristy gimmicks or ploys. People here were just people, welcoming and friendly, not driven by a dollar. It was totally refreshing and deserved to be preserved and protected. It also made Emma think all the time that maybe she was doing Henry a disservice living in New York. Montenarro wasn’t really a viable option forever, at least she couldn’t bring herself to hope they’d be that lucky, but there must be other places in the US where she could find a job that had more of these things they loved. They’d miss Mrs. and Mr. H, but they were retired now and always talked about their want to travel. Who knew, maybe something could work out?

“Okay Mom, I’m ready to go. We better get a move on.”

Emma took in Henry all decked out in his beach gear and ready to trek across the city and she bit back another hearty laugh. Her boy was an adventurer through and through. He loved anything that felt like a quest and right now he was harnessing all the energy of kids in the throes of some magical imaginary universe. She loved his propensity for this kind of excitement, so she attempted to match it, gathering her things and saluting him as their leader as the left the apartment and locked the door behind them.

As they headed out, Emma couldn’t help thinking that she hoped the kids at the institute were having a good start to their day. This year none of the children would be attending the parade. Apparently there were some issues in years past with some older kids running off to meet friends and younger kids getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the festivities. It turned out to be a logistical nightmare for the staff, and so they decided they’d have their own celebration at the same coves along the cost that the older kids had driven to weeks back. Almost everyone, save the very little babies, would be going, and Emma and Henry had been invited as well. She’d come so close to saying yes, especially when she thought about seeing Cecelia and the others enjoying their day at the beach, but she knew there was a lot of time left to share such memories with them all and that tonight they’d join everyone for dinner and some fun and games. For now, she wanted to make sure her son felt special and supported. He was such a good sport about being in camp all the time while she worked and went to school. She didn’t think that he resented it even a little, but she felt like her first duty was to be a good mom and to give Henry the attention and affection he so rightly deserved.

“Excuse me, Miss?” a woman with bright red hair asked just by their front door. Emma recognized her peripherally. She’d definitely seen her in the neighborhood before. “Are you Emma Swan?”

“I am,” Emma said, and the woman let out a relieved breath. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. My name is Merida. I live just there,” she pointed to the other house out here on the side street. “We received this this morning – or well my daughter did. I love the girl but if you catch her half asleep, she’ll say anything to shut you up and head on back to bed. Anyway, a royal courier came to deliver this earlier, asking for an Emma Swan, and she swore that’s who she was, took it, and then promptly fell asleep. I’m so sorry for the delay, I only just saw the thing in her room. But I promise it was never opened. As you can see the seal is still very much intact.”

“It’s no problem,” Emma said accepting the letter which was addressed in beautiful script. It had her name on it and a seal on the back with the same lettering as the foundation. She smiled, thinking it must be from the kids. They were so excited for their celebration today that she could totally see them making fancy invites and using an institute seal for adornment. She also didn’t think anything of a ‘royal courier.’ That was a thing in Britain too, right? It was the queen’s post or something. Countries with monarchies were just cute like that.

“Oh good, hopefully it’s nothing too timely,” Merida said with relief. “But either way you best believe my Iona received a stern talking to this morning.” Just then a bang came from Merida’s house and they all looked over there. Emma and Henry were concerned, but Merida only sighed and shook her head. “Those blasted boys of mine will be at it again. Dead set on turning every last hair on my head gray. Anyway, apologies again, and perhaps we can have you two over some time. I’ll do my best to wrangle this motley bunch before you do, aye?”

Merida made the offer even while jogging back into her house and Emma and Henry barely had time to say sure before she was back inside. They turned to each other and just shrugged, laughing. Then Henry pointed to the letter. “What do you think it is?”

“Probably something from the institute. But nothing that can’t wait for the beach,” Emma replied, and Henry smiled, following her down the lane in the direction of their plans.

Slowly but surely they made their way down the roads, but the more they walked, the more the patterns of foot traffic began to change. When they started, there were very few people along the street, but the further they went the fuller the streets became. Soon they were overrun with people, and admittedly all of them seemed to be having a great time without any kind of discernable drunkenness or issues.

“Wow, today must be a bigger deal than we realized,” Henry said, his eyes taking in the same sight as her, which was their increasingly familiar neighborhood flooded with happy parade goers.

“No kidding. Are we sure this isn’t the berry fest you read about?”

“They’re called montecaris, Mom. And no, that’s in August. It lasts a whole week. Today’s about a battle that happened a long time ago or something.”

“Must have been some battle,” Emma said. Looking back at Henry, she was struck with worry that he might feel like they were missing something big, especially when confronted with the throngs of people out here celebrating. “We could probably put the beach off a bit if you wanted to watch…”

“No way! I’ve got a full day planned and we’re already late. We gotta get going.”

Emma agreed and stuck her hand out for her son, more as precaution than anything else. With the crowds growing so dense she didn’t want to get separated from him. Henry understood and stuck close to her, but Emma noticed that the people congregated out here today for the celebrations were so much kinder and less intrusive than people back home. This might be a big party for people, but it wasn’t at the expense of families and non-celebrators. No one was taking things too far, and it made maneuvering through the streets much easier than expected, which Emma appreciated. They actually made great time, all things considered, but towards the end of their journey they hit a roadblock, quite literally.

“The road’s closed, but how will we get to the beach?” Henry said with a sad effect that reminded Emma of when he was younger. He never whined, her son, but he did get a teensy bit dramatic. It had much more impact in her opinion, and the pang of sympathy she felt at his disappointment had her rethinking this strategy.

“Excuse me, miss?” Emma asked a woman who looked to be walking with her own young children. “Do you have any idea how we could get to the beach?”

“The footbridge is still open,” the woman offered. She pointed them in the right direction and Emma remembered seeing it a few times while coming in and out of the city. It wasn’t far from here, and she and Henry were grateful for the insight. They made their way in that direction, and by chance they had to walk the parade route to get there. As such they were seeing so much of the parade while still heading to the beach.

“Kind of feels like the best of both worlds, huh Mom?” Henry asked and Emma nodded. It was really something to be sure, and as they walked they saw all sorts of processions. People in traditional dress dancing, musicians, acrobats. There were soldiers dressed up in old regalia and veterans from wars long past, but it didn’t seem like anything out of the common way. Only when the footbridge was in sight did the air seem to change around them and the whispers all began.

“They’ll be out soon, Mama,” a little boy said jumping up and down. “King Liam and his horse!”

“Yes, darling. They’ll be here any moment. Look, here they come.”

Henry was the one to stop moving at this point, drawn into the promise of seeing actual royalty in the flesh. Emma stopped with him and looked out into the street, feeling a flutter of intrigue as she did. Watching the procession at this stage felt like stepping into a movie. There were guards in their stately dress and horses with people she assumed must be some kind of current soldiers. All of the steeds they rode in on were darker, but behind them were white stallions drawing a carriage. Wow, she thought those were a figment of imagination. People really rode in those? Emma supposed they must, and then she got a good look at the women in the cart and she was convinced they must be royalty.

The way these two women were dressed was pristine and beautiful, and both women wore tiaras in their hair that reflected the light so beautifully in the summer sun. From what she could tell, both of them were older, though one was raven haired and the other had shifted to a silky silver. Emma wracked her brain trying to remember what she’d heard in passing about the royals. She knew there was a reigning Queen before who was much older, and apparently good friends with the Queen in England. She’d stepped down from her post years back, however, and now there was a King. She’d seen him, King Liam, on magazine covers in the grocery store. He was young, but always looked so serious, and Emma imagined he must be somewhere here too.

Sure enough, when the carriage passed there were two black horses, both giant, like Clydesdales. Both had royal riders as well, and Emma knew the first one was King Liam. He looked just as serious now as he had in the photos, and Emma wondered if it was hard to be King. It must be all-consuming, but still, a smile wouldn’t kill anyone, would it?

“Wait, Mom, that’s the King!” Henry said, his attempt at a whisper coming out comically loud. “He’s so big. I bet he’s super strong.”

Emma couldn’t argue with the assessment, and the stateliness of the man looked even more imposing in his formal regalia astride a horse. But there was something about him that was familiar. The darkness of his hair under his crown and the square of his jaw evoked something in her, and so, she realized, did the particular shade of blue of his eyes. She had trouble placing it before, but now she knew they looked like Killian’s. How strange that she should think that. She was only reminiscing the other day that she’d never seen eyes like his anywhere before.

Intriguing as the connection was, Emma didn’t think much of it. Instead her eyes moved to the other horse, and immediately her heart lurched. Was that? Oh my God, that was Killian! Her Killian, and he was…

“Prince Killian’s here this year!” a young girl said on the street beside them with awe. “Wow he really is handsome, just as handsome as King Liam, don’t you think, Mama?”

“Undoubtedly, dear,” the mother said but Emma barely heard them. She was stuck with the glaring and absolutely crazy realization that the man she’d been circling around for weeks, the man who’d kissed her senseless only yesterday, was a Prince. Like an actual, full-blown, royal. She was stunned and shocked, so thrown by this twist she hardly knew which way was up. All she could do was take this in and try to make sense of it all.

From where she stood in the crowd, Emma could see that Killian was dressed in the same uniform as his brother. Medals of valor covering his coat to a much higher degree than the King, so much so they almost didn’t fit. Despite being astride a horse, everything about him looked impeccable. The lines of his clothes were crisp and unforgiving, and his form on the stallion spoke to extensive experience. Still, she couldn’t say he looked comfortable up there. His expression was not nearly so serious as Liam’s, but Emma could see his uneasiness, even if it was subtle. Many others may not realize, but Emma saw pain in his eyes. Even now, when thrust into confusion and disarray, Emma felt like she could read him. He was uncomfortable up there, being ogled at by so many people and hearing all the noise and celebration. Still he was gorgeous, looking gallant and regal and all too good to look away from.

Seeing him this way filled her with a chaotic sense of conflictedness – on the one hand she still saw the same man she felt herself falling for, but on the other hand he’d shielded the truth from her. He was a prince, a freaking prince! And she was… well just Emma. It made her sick to her stomach to think about how much must separate them. She’d already felt the pressure of that just thinking he was rich and foreign, but throw royalty into the mix and she felt unbelievably foolish. This could never work. She was delusional if she thought that the two of them could amount to anything more than a mere flirtation given everything, and a wave of dread and despair crashed over her. She felt feint from the mix of sadness and betrayal and her heart was pounding in her chest. Panic began flowing. She had to get out of here.

As if her distress called to him in some way, Killian’s attention diverted from the procession and he looked into the crowd. In a matter of seconds his gaze found her, and she saw the look on his face, feeling the impact too acutely. He was surprised by her being there, and then looked pained himself. She was too stunned to move, but he didn’t feel the same. He stopped his horse, and looked about to climb down when a voice called out to him.

“Killian!” It came from the King, Emma and Killian both looked to him and Liam looked to Emma before turning back to Killian and shaking his head. “Not now.”

Emma didn’t know how to take that. Was he saying not now as in ‘not now, we’re in the middle of a parade here’ or as in ‘not now with your inappropriate and unacceptable life choices’? The former made sense to Emma, but the latter was what she was afraid of. Here she was, a totally normal person, a single Mom from another place with no freaking clue he was even a prince. What was Killian even thinking when it came to her? She was dying to know but also too afraid to face it. Killian, meanwhile, looked liable to go against his brother but he ultimately looked to her and she read the greatest wish of his heart as clear as day.

I know I fucked up, Emma. I know this is crazy, but please let me explain. She even watched his lips move and she read his words “please, Emma.” Her heart clutched in her chest. She closed her eyes unsure of what to do and then Henry pulled at her hand. Emma broke her attention away from this earth-shaking revelation and looked to her boy.

“You okay, Mom? You look a little funny.”

“Uh, yeah, Henry, I’m fine. Just a lot of people,” she offered emptily. She hated to lie to her son, but what could she say? Something like, don’t worry kid, I just think I have a date set with the Prince and even though it’s completely insane and he hid this from me, I can’t bring myself to hate him? Or maybe, to be honest I was actually falling for this man, like really falling, and I don’t know if I can stop even though I have to because we live in different worlds and I feel like my heart is breaking in my chest? No that wouldn’t work either, so a lie it was.

“You want to go home?” He asked and Emma shook her head, knowing that home was just about the last place she wanted to be. She needed distraction from whatever the hell this was, and if she added disappointing Henry to the list of things she’d done today, she’d never get past this.

“No way.”

“Okay! Last one to the footbridge is a rotten egg!” Henry said, taking off, and Emma spared one last look at Killian before she left.

In his eyes she saw everything, grief, sorrow, an attempt at about a million apologies. This was wrong. He had really messed up and she was hurt by his choices, but despite it all a small voice in her heart told her not to run. She should give him a chance to explain, as hard as that might be. She deserved those answers, even if he didn’t. With her mind made up, she wanted to convey to him that this wasn’t totally over but only then did she realize that the parade had stopped. Everyone was distracted by something in the main carriage, but it wasn’t emergent. In fact, the people were laughing, but Emma had clearly missed the joke. She looked back to Killian, whose eyes were trained only on her, and without any more delay she nodded, a silent show that she would listen even if she was hurt and confused. She only saw the beginning of his relief take form, before heading back to her kid, and though it was incredibly hard not to look back, she pushed forward, knowing that right now she couldn’t engage with whatever was happening. It was just too much to contemplate and too overwhelming to consider without knowing the whole truth.

……………………………..

Oh, Dear Lord in Heaven, what a day it had been.

Public outings were always tiring to Queen Eleanor, despite her lifetime of participating in them. But today was especially energetic, and that was putting it kindly.

She still could not fathom how in the world her grandson had been so thoughtless. How could Killian think that keeping the truth for this long would be okay? Surely, he realized that the longer he waited to tell Emma who he was the worse it would be. And then today, seeing the moment where Killian and Emma noticed each other out there in the precession, was like witnessing a car wreck before her very eyes.

The fright she’d had was instant, and she gripped onto Meera’s arm so quickly her daughter-in-law had thought her ill. Then Meera looked to the crowd and saw Emma too and she herself was tense and worried. It was all so terrible. The shock on the poor girl’s face, the hurt in her eyes, but there was more too. There was strength there, and feelings under that hurt that did give Eleanor a bit of hope. Everything wasn’t lost, but it was getting damn close. Killian tried to go to her, as he damn well should, but then Liam scolded him, keeping him there. It took everything in Eleanor not to snap at her eldest grandson for interfering.

“It’s not safe, your majesty,” Jefferson whispered to her from his position close by, reading her frustration. “She’d be a target if the public takes notice.”

“Oh – oh - oh barnacles!” she said with frustration, before inspiration struck. “Stop the carriage!” she cried to the attendant and immediately he did.

“What are you doing?” Meera whispered, alarmed at the break in protocol, but hoping for a good explanation.

“Buying them some time. Keep watch of them. Be discrete but don’t miss anything. We need every detail we can get,” she whispered, before turning to the street and waving her hand to a nearby man. “Excuse me, sir, I just wanted to say your cap is absolutely delightful.”

The man was stunned at her comments, and he should be. This was absolutely untoward. Royalty never did anything like this, but damn the customs. This was her grandson’s life, his future, and she’d do anything she could to see it aided and improved. When the man on the side of the road collected himself, he smiled and blushed, an uncommon sight for a man of at least 65 years of age.

“Please, your majesty. Take it.”

“Oh I don’t think I -,”

“It would be an honor,” he said.

“Are they good?” she asked Meera quietly.

“Just a bit more time. Her son’s perked up now. What a beautiful boy. Reminds me of Killian at that age.”

“Focus, Meera.”

Eleanor nodded to the security team and the man came forward. Offering her the hat. She smiled at it, taking in the tacky mess of patriotic color and appreciating it for what it was – a colorful distraction from the moment. She made up her mind to commit to this idea, and the crowd gasped as she put it on her head and then laughed happily. Some people even cheered at her attire, praising the new look that must make her look positively ridiculous.

“Okay, we’re good,” Meera said and Eleanor smiled graciously to the man who’d provided this opportunity to distract.

“Thank you very much, sir. A happy holiday to you and yours,” she waved pleasantly before telling the footman to drive on.

She’d then proceeded to commit to this charade for the rest of the outing, taking different gifts from parade watchers across the city. Even Meera engaged, accepting some colorful beads and a flag from some children who brought them forth along the way. She didn’t dare look at Liam the entire time, but she knew, even if it was unusual, that this would be a win for the king in the long term. The people had responded marvelously, and she’d managed to help both her grandsons in their quests at the same time, thank the Gods.

As soon as they arrived back at the palace, Killian was off like a shot, readying himself to go see Emma. They spoke with him briefly inside the palace before his departure, but she didn’t dwell on those important words now. Eleanor still didn’t know where he’d eventually find her or if he already had, but she hoped he would. Now though, hours later, Queen Eleanor was hiding out, trying to avoid another conversation that must eventually come.

“So are you going to tell me what that was all about today?” Liam asked, causing her to jump from where she was in the quiet of the library. Her hand came over her heart instinctively and she scowled at him.

“You take great liberty, my dear, scaring an old woman like that.”

“I take liberties?” he asked with a laugh. “Gran if this is another of your jokes, I’ll tell you now I don’t understand it and I’m not amused.”

“I know, my dear, but I just had to do it. Killian and Emma needed time.”

“You know about her?”

“Know about her, who do you think found her in the first place -,” Oh blast it! She wasn’t supposed to say that. Rats, now she had to tell him everything. This was not what she’d wanted at all.

“So you and Mum, you’ve been planning this,” Liam said some time later when the truth was revealed. “You’re matchmaking. Does Killian know?”

“No, he most certainly does not.”

“He’ll be furious when he finds out.”

“The moment she forgives him he’ll be nothing short of ecstatic.”

“And so that’s when you’ll tell him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Gran.”

“Liam,” she parroted, knowing she sounded like a child but not caring.

“Bloody hell, Gran, I don’t know how you manage it,” Liam said, shaking his head as a low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“I manage this family with the wisdom, grace, and know-how of a professional, Liam. You’d do well to remember that.”

He muttered to himself some things she couldn’t hear, but then he squared his shoulders and grew serious. “Look, Gran, as long as you promise not to interfere anymore, I will keep your secret.”

“When you say interfere -,”

“Gran, leave this to Killian. He needs to do this himself. Please.”

“All right dear, I will leave it alone.”

“Good. And you and Mum better not be planning anything like this for me.”

“You really think there’s just another woman who happens to be at the institute who would also be perfect for you?”

“No,” Liam laughed, forgetting the promise he asked for in the face of what he saw as a lunatic notion. Little did he know there was such a woman, and the ball was already in motion on that front as well. Still Eleanor did everything she could to shield that from him, attempting to appear the frazzled grandmother instead of a scheming assistant to cupid. Before he could press her further, a knock sounded at the door, Jefferson appeared, and Liam was called away. “We’ll finish this discussion later.”

“Not bloody likely,” she whispered under her breath and Liam raised a brow.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all.”

Post-Note: Okay so there we have it. I keep making these chapters so much longer than I think I will, but there’s just so much I want to accomplish. I know it would have been better for everyone’s anxiety levels if I had Killian and Emma talk things out in this chapter but there simply was not time. Not to worry though, next week’s installment will definitely have that and I think you’ll all forgive me for my slight cliff hanger when you read the next chapter. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all are thinking and I appreciate every comment and review and message you guys have sent the past few weeks. It’s so awesome to have you all with me in this and I genuinely hope you’ll stick around to see what’s coming next. Anyway thanks so much for reading and have a great rest of your weekend! -Emily

[xfanfics]

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 7

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity.  Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 39 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

Bare Your Throat and Have Me by highermagic E | 4k | AU, PWP,  a/b/o

Castiel and Dean have only been mated for a few months, but Dean knows how this goes by now.

Deterioration by highermagic E | 33k | Hot,  AU, Cop!Dean, Mystery

Dean has a gift – he can see things. Things that others wouldn't see, motive and calm control between the splatters of blood and fractured mirrors. He solves crimes others simply can't. When bodies are piling up all around him, Dean starts to feel as though he's drowning in it, falling under the weight of his own helpless observations, until he finds something unbreakable. Unwavering. Castiel – if only the man was as good for him as he appears.

Try Something Tuesday by almaasi E | 48k | Fluff, Teacher AU, Librarian Cas

Human AU. Dean Winchester teaches a third-grade class. He's new to this whole ‘bisexual’ thing - but by pure happenstance, he meets Castiel: a particularly dapper male librarian who moonlights as a substitute teacher. Dean's curious and Castiel is willing, so why the hell not? Except, fate never intended it to be one-time-only.

Angel-Cuffed by Luciel89 E | 15k | CANON!verse

Dean wakes up to find himself handcuffed to his angel. Both are annoyed, Sam finds it hilarious and awkward situations await them. But the longer they're tied together, the more things between them start to change...

The Bet List ❤ by StevieCas M | 55k | Fluff,  AU, Underage, wing!kink

"That bet list was the worst thing you've ever come up with, Gabe. If it wasn't for it, I would never have thought about such things. It's bad enough being an earthbound angel, it's bad enough being considered a weirdo even by angel standards. Did I have to be gay as well? Do I even represent a minority or is it just me out there?

I love the world of this fic--and Dean and Cas' relationship dynamic is perfect.    

Ad Astra ❤ by nhixxie T | 17k | Angst

One day Cas says, "Stars died for you, Dean Winchester", against ruffled hair perched atop sun kissed skin and sleepy eyes. Dean stirs, moving to spread his palms against the contour of Cas’ back, tips of fingers languidly strumming the indentations of his spine. One, two, three, four, he counts, the closest he could get to scientifically studying the anatomy of the human body. "Is this some physics crap again?" He frowns with eyes closed. Cas smiles softly. "Far from it. "Dean’s fingers play at the base of his back, ninth thoracic vertebrae, Cas notes. "Then tell me all about it.”

Read it and weep. If this were published, I would buy it.    

Sensitive by nevergotwings E | 1k | wing!kink

Curiosity sparks when Dean gets the urge to touch Castiel's wings.

An Exercise in 'Worthless' ❤ by beastofthesky

M | 26k | AU, Tattoos

"I mean, you’re–" He gestures at Cas, in his neat oxford shirt and nice pants. “–and I’m a high school dropout who tattoos for a living." Wherein Dean makes a hefty living as a tattoo artist who owns the space next to Gabriel's cafe. Sam attends the local university. When Gabe's cousin comes to live with him while starting grad school at Sam's university, Dean thinks for sure that all his negative karma's coming to bite him in the ass because Cas clearly has a thing for Sam. No one would ever choose him over Sam. That's just logic.

Perfection everywhere. Dean's lack of self-worth is explored, and there are tattoos.    

Of ties and wings by perpetuallycaffinated E | 4k | Hot,  PWP, wing!kink

Jealousy, ties and and impatient angel. Also, wings.

pie | by perpetuallycaffinated E | 3k | Hot,  PWP

Dean uses pie to eat out Castiel. That's pretty much it.

I Say, But I Mean by inplayruns T | 4k | Coffee Shop AU

Dean runs a bed & breakfast. Cas works in a coffeeshop.

Heavenly Delights by TamrynEradani T | 2k | Fluff, Coffee Shop AU

Gabriel owns Heavenly Delights, the coffee shop Cas works at and on the day before Thanksgiving, Cas sees someone looking down so he brings him a hot chocolate, and Gabriel conspires to get them together.

New Eyes by ozzutly E | 1k | Canon!Verse

Dean sees Castiel's true form. He decides he likes it.

Resonance by definitely_indecisive G | 1k | Canon!Verse, Soul Bond

The battered and abused presence had poked warily out, almost as if expecting harm. He let his grace drift forward to meet the soul instantly, putting off all of the warmth he could muster. The presence seemed to stutter for a second, before melding itself into Castiel's grace. He allowed the soul to do so, cradling it with his core. He could feel the tiredness and abuse from the poor thing, yet also the amazing light it gave off as it started to slowly heal because of his grace. He could tell this was the most unique soul he had ever met, and that he wouldn't forget the feeling of the presence for all of millennia.

My Roots Take Flight by KismetJeska M | 125k | Reverse!verse, s4 AU

After forty years in Hell, Dean’s more than willing to accept the offer: become a guardian angel and earn his freedom. But his new ward seems destined to hunt alongside Sam, and there are secrets in Heaven that the angels don’t want found out. Dean’s going to have to choose between his duty and the people he loves- and to work out just where Castiel fits in.

Angel Airlines by dancingloki E | 19k | Hot, Airline AU

Dean is an airline pilot with a raging hard-on for his head flight attendant. Fluffy fluffy fluff.

El Tango de Amor by literaryoblivion E | 16k | AU, Fluff,  Angst,

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Dean leaves, is gone for two to three hours, and comes home sweaty and exhausted to the apartment he and his brother Sam share. Sam had asked him where he went once, and Dean had said he was working out, which technically wasn’t a lie. What he was doing was definitely giving him a workout, just not in the traditional sense. In all actuality though, Dean was leaving every Tuesday and Thursday for a dance class. A dance class taught by a one Castiel Novak.

Ugly Sweater!Verse ❤ ❤ by nerdylittledude E | 193k  | Canon!verse,Fluff,  Post s5

If they really go back and think about it... it all started with a tree. A Christmas tree, that is. Castiel is human now, and the apocalypse is not only over, it's been averted. Sam's away at NYU, finally finishing law school, and Dean's stuck in what is probably the most awkward situation of his life. He's not exactly sure how he ended up sharing a flat with Cas in Media, Pennsylvania, but he does know the curious would-be angel is sort of derailing his plans for a life of decadence and booze. Cas is trying to make the best of his humanity by exploring human holidays. Dean can't exactly complain because he's pretty much the reason Cas got his wings clipped in the first place. Dean didn't actually want to fall in love, but how was he supposed to know it would all start with a goddamn tree?

 My favorite fic ever. I don't know how many times I've read it. There is switching, fluff, angst, and slow building romance. I will rec this forever.    

More Than Alien Mojo by remivel

E | 29k | Men in Black AU, Fluff,

Dean was one of Men in Black's best agents. In fact, he's been knee deep in extraterrestrial crap his whole life, and he's gone through more apocalypses than he could care to remember. He thought he's seen it all-- until he and his partner, Sam, were sent out to a routine meteorite crash inspection. What was supposed to be a meteorite turned out to be a golden spaceship, and instead of hitchhiking intergalactic pathogens, it was an alien that took the form of a human male. A very naked human male. Soon, they discovered that this alien named 'Castiel' was a refugee from a war-torn galaxy.The first of his kind to ever venture to Earth, Castiel agreed to share information about his galaxy and his race in exchange for his relocation on Earth. The only catch was: since Castiel was a new alien species, nobody knew what he was capable of, whether he was as harmless as E.T., or as dangerous as the Predator. And it was Dean's job to keep an eye on him and assess just how much of a threat Castiel could be, and if necessary, eliminate him. It wasn't a job Dean was looking forward to doing. Especially since he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off him, naked or not.

Come On With the Rain by remivel E | 36k | High School AU, dubcon

When Castiel was 15, his life changed. In one tragic instant, he lost his parents, and he was forced to live with his Uncle Bobby in Lawrence, Kansas. There he met the Winchester boys, Sam and Dean, who were living next door. He thought Sam was pleasant, and Dean, well, Dean was special. Three years passed and Castiel’s relationship with the boys developed in an unexpected way. Sam became his best friend. But Dean was a different story. Dean was not Castiel’s friend. He was a neighbor, a classmate, the brother of Castiel’s best friend, and the guy who worked part time at his uncle’s salvage yard. That was all. But on the rare times that Dean asked Castiel for help, Castiel couldn’t find it in him to turn him down. Because this was Dean. And the answer would never be “no” when it came to Dean.

Crossroads State by Mercy M | 51k | AU

Castiel has a nice predictable structured life teaching high school, even if he happens to be overqualified for it. Then this guy moves in around the corner and literally knocks him on his ass.

Heart of Glass by omphalos E | 17k | Canon!Verse

He's the one who was punished, severely, because of his feelings for Dean, but who still gave up everything for him in the end. Surely there should exist between them a better level of comprehension than this.

Domesticated by kototyph E | 15k | AU

Being the only angel in the entire Pacific Northwest can be tiring, even if these days Castiel spends more of his time shoveling manure than fighting off the hordes of hell. It's an occupational hazard, unfortunately; he earns most of his living rehabilitating wild animals a few miles outside Spokane. Wild animals like Dean, for instance— a mountain lion who's entirely too smart for his own good. There's a man in Castiel's dreams named Dean too, but that part's just a huge coincidence.

Excite by perpetuallycaffinated E | 3k | Crack, wing!kink

"Sam Winchester, I am going to carnally worship your brother whether you are in this room or not.

Snapshots 'Verse ❤ by highermagic E | 60k [WIP] | AU, Wing!kink, a/b/o, omega!dean

A series of one-shots following the meeting, courting and eventual love between an Angel doctor named Castiel and an Angel teacher by the name of Dean.

Less of a WIP, more of a series of one-shots. Rowan's worldbuilding is lovely, and the sex is perfect as usual. EDIT: Apparently this has been removed.

Angel's Wild ❤ by riseofthefallenone E | 389k | AU, H/C, Wing!kink

But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Perfection. Go read it now.    

Sharing Hands by almaasi E | 6k | Hot, Canon!Verse

Dean feels something strange when he touches himself, and realises Cas has been using him as a vessel ever since he came back from Purgatory.

The Good Samaritan Rule by manic_intent E | 6k | AU, wing!kink

Written for deancaskink: "Dean and Castiel are both angels and brothers-in-arms. During a battle, Cas's wings get hurt and [it's] up to Dean to help him out. In the process, Cas finds out how sensitive his wings are and well Dean is Dean no matter what his form [is], so this leads to lovely first time sex." God never made humans. Instead, he made the angels in his image, and on the sixth day he made the is him, and gave them free will.

How (thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel (accidentally) raised each other (and Sam) ❤ by Vera_Dragonmuse E | 69k | AU, Sam/Gabriel

In which, Gabriel meddles with the time line and Castiel becomes Dean's angel rather sooner than intended.

Out of the Deep ❤ by riseofthefallenone E | 488k | AU, h/c

Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep. It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep. Castiel should have listened better.

It's long, but worth it.    

Feathers by brightly_lit M | 90k | Angst, Wing!kink, D/s

In an alternate season 5 scenario, Dean, Sam, and twenty of their closest hunter friends stopped the apocalypse by closing the gates to heaven, hell, and purgatory. Now working with his former hunter buddies at Ellen's security company, Dean doesn't know what to make of his weird new coworker who always wears a trenchcoat and leaves behind feathers everywhere he goes. He especially doesn't know that, cut off from the power of heaven, the constantly falling feathers mean his new friend is dying. "Creation cried out against the injustice of a righteous man in hell. I answered its cry.

Vita Nuova ❤ by wordaccordingtofangirls M | 61k | Teacher AU

AU. Dean Winchester takes a job as a teaching assistant to get his little brother into a prestigious academy. He doesn't quite expect such long nights and snobby kids, but the real surprise is professor Castiel Novak: or falling in love with him, that is.

Like a Parched Land by twoskeletons E | 8k | reverse!verse

Written for the following prompt: "Reverse!verse: Castiel is the Righteous Man and Dean is the angel who drags his ass out of Hell." This is an AU version of episodes 5x01 through 5x03.

The Cabin by bookkbaby E | 16k | Canon!Verse, Wing!kink

For an angel, the building of a Nest is sacred. Dean doesn't understand. Written for the 2013 DCBB.

Pies and Prejudice by linoresearch E | 97k | AU

Dean didn’t even want to enter this damn competition. He was happy with his life, more or less. It might not look like much from the outside, or to a younger brother headed towards a big time law career, but it wasn’t so bad that Dean needed to scrabble around for any opportunity to make a change – particularly not one as stupid as this. He’s going to throttle Sam the next time he sees him, for getting him involved in this ridiculous Bake-Off TV show. It’s bad enough that Dean has to cook in front of people he doesn’t know; he now has to go through the humiliation of being judged on it too. Its humiliation piled on humiliation, and to make matters worse Dean has to play nice with all the other suckers involved, like that rich dick-bag Castiel Novak. God, he hates that guy, and he hates that someone so awful has such a frustratingly fine ass. Written for the Dean/Castiel Big Bang 2013

The Breath of All Things ❤ by KismetJeska T | 65k | AU, H/C Angst,

Dean Winchester was twenty-six years old when a car accident killed his father and left him paralysed from the waist down. A year and a half later, Dean is in a wheelchair and lives in a care home in Kansas, where he spends his days waiting to die. It's only when Castiel Novak starts volunteering at the care home that Dean starts to wonder if a changed life always equals a ruined one.

So angsty, and so, so perfect.    

All the Way ❤ by cadignan E | 81k | College AU

Castiel spends the first two weeks of college in much the same way he spent the previous years: alone with his books. He’s fine with it—he enrolled in college to learn, after all. Then in his first chemistry lab, he has the bad luck of being paired with snide, good-for-nothing Ruby, and the further misfortune of sitting behind Dean Winchester, the world’s most beautiful distraction. Ruby catches Castiel staring at Dean and makes him an offer.

Destiel, Actually by Bloodism E | 15k | Crack Fluff,

Picture your typical rom-com cliché. Now picture Dean stuck in that rom-com cliché. With Castiel. Because that's what happening to him - a crazy whirlwind of your typical-and-not-so-typical cliché's. He's playing the main lead in all of them and Castiel's his counterpart. Of course, the culprit is obvious. Gabe's enjoying himself too much, lying back on his favourite cloud with a tub of salted popcorn. It was about time someone kicked the two knuckleheads into gear.

Suburban War by squeemonster E | 100k | High School AU

Moving to Lawrence with his family is the most significant event of Dean Winchester's life. It brings a stability he's never known, and the only thing to have more of a profound impact on him is Castiel Novak: the two boys become fast friends the day they meet. But as Dean grows older, he dreams for something beyond the monotony and constraints of suburbia, and he is haunted by the inexplicable feeling that he was born for something more than what this life offers. As he struggles to reconcile the person he yearns to be with what his family and friends expect of him, a fateful choice exposes just how fragile his life in the suburbs is, and possibly risks losing the best friend he's ever had.

[thanks-to-that-man]

Narumitsu Christmas advent calendar master post!!

Here’s all the Christmas fics I’ve compiled so far! and this is the post I will be updating for the last few days leading up to Christmas! 

1.  White Christmas by orphan_account - Summary:What haunts us the most can bring us together. 

2. Christmas with the Wrights by valethra - Summary: It’s only been a week since Phoenix and Miles finally got together, and Christmas is right around the corner. Franziska’s coming into town to mend things with her brother, and Miles wants nothing more than to make a good impression. But will ANYTHING go according to plan? When will Miles and Phoenix get to tell her about their relationship? And what is Franziska hiding from them?

3. A Turnabout Carol by Sylibane - Summary: It seems Miles Edgeworth has found himself in a very strange trial with more than a passing resemblance to a certain Christmas story.

4. Christmas At The Office by prcttyodd - Summary: Phoenix is annoyed of Athena, Apollo, and Trucy’s Christmas shenanigans, but somehow, they manage to rope him in.

5. Christmas Dinner by Alyseris - Summary: 30-day OTP challenge. Prompt 26: Interacting with family membersWhile Christmas is a holiday usually celebrated with family, Phoenix and Miles can only spend it with friends.

6. Christmas Carols by toue - Summary: Phoenix is intrigued by a beautiful house he passes on the way to work every day, and even more so by the man who lives there. Who happens to look a lot like a friend of his from grade school. But how can he know for sure that this man is actually Miles Edgeworth? He needs to get a better look at him somehow….and that’s how he ended up singing Christmas carols on the man’s doorstep.

7. A Christmas To Share Together by Randomblackberry - Summary: Last year Christmas had been tainted by the fact that, yay, Phoenix had got his name cleared, but he was still a hobo/not lawyer. This year was supposed to be different, but the tragedy that had recently befallen them all, plus the inherent sexual tension circulating the room is going to make this a whole lot harder than last year. OR The obligatory trashy Christmas party/gathering fic, in which everyone gets a cookie.

8. What Do You Want For Christmas? by wright_at_the_edge - Summary: All Trucy really wants for Christmas is for her Daddy to smile again.

9. Christmas 2001 by RydiaAsuka - Summary: Larry and Phoenix go over to help Miles and his father decorate their tree on Christmas Eve. Chaos, fun, and friendship ensue, leaving Miles to wish he’d never met these crazy people…mostly thanks to Larry.

10. Ugly Sweaters by SaraJaye - Summary: She tried. That’s the important thing.

11. December by dotpng - Summary: Miles Edgeworth hated Christmas.

12. and be of good cheer by pyrrhlc - Summary: Phoenix doesn’t know how to decorate. Miles has been saying it for years.

13. all of us together by orphan_account - Summary: this is just a lil domestic drabble about Trucy and her dumb dads on their first Christmas as a family because I’m a sap :,)

14. Not All Christmases require suffering by flibbityflob - Summary: Miles Edgeworth has not had the greatest track records with christmases, from the death of his father, to being accused of murder. Sometimes, a morning in with his husband and daughter remind him he doesn’t always have to associate a time of joy with great suffering.

And finally one for today! This last one here isn’t a sweet fluffy one but instead some angst that broke my heart and will probably break yours too! Enjoy!

15. If the Fates Allow by Lavandin - Summary: Christmas 2017. One year after the DL-6 case has closed for good. Phoenix thinks Edgeworth is dead. Edgeworth can’t sleep.

16. Home, Then by skuldchan - Summary: Phoenix gets ready for his first Christmas with his newly adopted daughter, Trucy. Miles Edgeworth flies home from his sabbatical in Europe for the occasion, which will be his first time meeting Phoenix’s new daughter. Can Miles forge a bond with her and figure out his place in the family over the few days of the holiday season?

17. the usual suspect by pyrrhlc - Summary: In which the Wright-Edgeworth household is subject to some mild shenanigans.

18. Talking and Reading by orphan_account - Summary: It’s the first time they’re together on the 28th of December.

19. The Perfect Plan? By Tarma_Hartley - Summary: Miles intends to propose to Phoenix on Christmas Eve but it seems that Fate, and Phoenix, have other ideas…

20. Figured You Out by Turnabout4What - Summary: Phoenix’s entire life has revolved around figuring out the who, what, where, when, and why of Miles Edgeworth. After thirty years of chasing Edgeworth, Phoenix finally seems to have figured the guy out.

21. Moving Forward by Syrus - Summary: Through all the years that Miles Edgeworth knew Phoenix Wright, he never was able to say just what he needed to. This Christmas though, that would change.