#in either case I was already planning on sharing that playlist! I think it's set to come out of the queue on Monday

[ereborne]

Your song posts are very fun! Will you ever share the playlists you talk about?

Thank you!! I spend a lot of time with music, which means I talk about it a lot, so I'm really glad it's entertaining!

Honestly, it hadn't really occurred to me before that I could share any of my playlists themselves--I make them in my media player (foobar) so they're just hosted locally on my laptop. I do have a spotify account, though. I could make playlists there to share. I'd have to decide on an order (mostly I save stuff in alphabetical order and then just play it on shuffle) and figure out names and descriptions (maybe headers?) but it could be a fun project. Would--oh shit can I embed a poll here.

Sometimes I think tumblr updates are always bad and then I remember how for months I couldn't respond to asks at all, and now here I've got a poll in my answer. So fancy!

[auxiliarydetective]

We've done it!

Or, more accurately, you've done it! Thanks to you, my fellow Tumblrinas, I've actually managed to hit 200 followers!

I never thought I would get this far, but I'm eternally grateful for all the love you've given me, and I can't wait to share many more brainrots with you!

In tune with that, I've decided: Why not let you look even further into my mind? I've given you lots of writing, but why not provide some visuals? And so, in thinking about what I wanted to do for my 200 followers celebration, I came up with...

⁕ Evie's Mind Palace Festival! ⁕

(Placing a cut so this doesn't get too long ^^)

As depicted in this lovely graphic above, I'm going to be focusing on my OCs' fashion for this little event. But not just that! I'll get to the bonuses later :)

For now, text version! Because Tumblr likes not loading images and some people may not be able to view the image

↬ Step 1: Pick an OC of your choice! From my OCs, that is. Hope that was clear. Anyone from the list. I'll even throw in a little bonus and say that unintroduced OCs are allowed! That means the ones on this list AND ones I may have rambled to to you in a chat we've had.

↬ Step 2: Pick an occasion prompt! The prompts are as follows:

Casual (aka everyday wear, aka their basic character design or an alternate outfit or it)

Formal

Training/Athletic

Battle (this may overlap with either 1. or 3. for some characters, but let's assume they actually get geared up for battle)

Hot weather (your typical summer clothes)

Cold weather (sweaters, winter coats, you name it)

Swimwear

Canon event (may overlap with some other categories, but I made this a separate thing for the lore opportunities it provides) - Make sure to specify what canon event you want!

Stealing clothes - You can include who the character should steal from in your ask, otherwise I will pick the victim myself.

Holiday-themed - Pick your holiday! Any holiday counts.

Fandombend - Pick your fandom! (This will probably come with some headcanons on what the OC would be like in the new fandom)

Inspired by a song - Please, pick a song! Preferably from the OC's playlist. I should have a playlist for almost every OC. Hop into the "#playlist" tag on my blog to find them and, if they're not posted over there anywhere, tap on any playlist that's there, let it take you to my Spotify profile, and hop into the "Character Playlists" folder!

↬ Step 3: If you want, pick an extra prompt! Your options are:

Historical - Please specify your time frame! You don't necessarily have to, but I tend to be an indecisive little gremlin, so it would make things a little easier if you could pick ^^"

Fantasy (This, of course, makes little sense if the OC is already in a fantasy setting)

Sci-fi (Once again, this makes little sense if the OC is already in a sci-fi setting)

Steampunk

Cultural - Please pick a culture for me to take inspiration from! It doesn't have to be a real-life culture. For example, you could pick Japan for some kimono art or you could pick the Kuja from One Piece!

Color prompt - Pick your color! I ask that you do keep it at one color so that I have some more freedom, and I won't take specific hex codes either because those specific hex codes might clash with the OC's color palette

Prompt of your choice - This can be literally anything! Yes, also an occasion, in which case it would replace your original occasion prompt. I just didn't have the space to add in all occasions known to man, so if you have another idea, this is where to put it.

↬ Step 4: Send your ask! Done!

Once you've sent your ask, please keep in mind that it might take me a while to answer it. I'll then make a collage/moodboard and get the ask posted. Maybe, I'll also draw your prompt, depending on if I have the energy and/or time for it. If I plan on doing that, I'll let you know in the post and tag you once I have the drawing finished! I may also be swayed into adding a little fic snippet to the answer, if I do feel so inclined. Maybe a song to match the vibes? It'll be a little surprise!

► Rules:

Be nice! It's not hard, and it's basically all I ask.

This is the one time you might not want to shower me in asks because these asks might take a bit to answer. I'm not putting a cap on how many asks per person you're allowed to send, just maybe be mindful of how long they take to answer and space them out over the time of the event.

I'll be accepting asks from the time that this is posted until March 17th. The event ends with the strike of midnight starting the next day. Whenever that may be in your time zone. As long as it's still 23:59 on March 17th somewhere around the world, send in your ask. I might also extend the event if asks keep coming in and I have the energy to keep going.

↬ Additional info for mutuals: You get to ask for crossovers! Just pick one of my OCs and one of yours and I'll try my best to draw them. I might bother you for references though, so be prepared! It doesn't matter how long we've been mutuals for! It could've been five minutes, you're still allowed to send in crossover asks. As long as we're mutuals, let's say, at the time that the ask is answered, it's all good. In practice, that means that you just need to be following me to be able to send in a crossover request. If you ask nicely and maybe say something about why you'd think why our two children would go well together and we share a fandom, it's very unlikely that I'll deny your request and won't follow you back.

Also, if you've ever wanted to say something about my OCs and/or me and my blog, this might be the perfect time for you to do it.

Okay, that's it for now! Love you, everyone! Here's to more fandom-y shenanigans!

Also, behold my new non-OC post divider! It features a lineart sketch of my blog icon in the middle! The icon was designed by @benevolenterrancy pretty much exactly two years ago when they realized my old icon was not, in fact, a unicorn. I still go full-on heart-eyes mode whenever I see my icon, so I figured it was time to remind everyone of the amazing artist that created it <3

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @fluffle-system @wheresmybloodynauglamir @supermarine-silvally @nanukanal @cody-helix02 (I believe this is the first time I've ever used my full taglist, aka the basic taglist plus everyone from fandom-specific taglists - wowie!) - Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed, for specific fandoms or the general list!

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Secret Santa

Winter Whumperland: Day 6. Shared Holiday Meal

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader, Simpson!Reader

Summary: With everyone heading home for the holidays, the Daggers decide to throw a last-minute holiday party before they leave. And your secret Santa takes you by surprise.

Word Count: 1758

TW: Fluff

Notes: This idea started out as more of a group fic (hence the header) but slowly transformed into a Rooster fic as I wrote it.

It was a Christmas miracle that the entire Dagger Squad was somehow able to all get leave for the holidays. It was almost unheard of but no one wanted to ask any questions in case someone realized a mistake had been made. And so, tickets home to visit family had been purchased all around and everyone began to pack their bags to leave. 

Only two members of the squad were staying in town. Rooster had agreed to spend the holidays with Mav, Penny, and Amelia. It was the first time in over fifteen years he would be spending the holidays with his godfather and both men were secretly very excited about the idea. And you were staying near North Island to spend the holiday season with your father. As the Air Boss at Top Gun, it wasn’t surprising that Cyclone wasn’t able to get Christmas day off, yet he had managed to work it out so he would be able to be home early. It was more than you usually got with him so you were beyond thrilled.

And yet…. 

It was amazing how close all of you had become in the last few months. While most of you had known each other either personally or by reputation before the Dagger Mission, the bonds that formed between the members of your team were stronger than any of you had experienced in past assignments. Personally, you chalked it up to Mav’s training and focus on teamwork and support. But regardless of the reason, the Dagger Squad had become its own small family.

Which was what made the fact you were all going to be scattered across the country for the holidays so bittersweet. You were all going to be with one family but leaving another behind. Which was why everyone immediately got on board when Bob suggested a mini-Dagger Christmas the night before everyone left. 

It was decided they would hold a potluck dinner where everyone brought their favorite holiday treat. Payback organized a Secret Santa and had everyone draw names from his helmet when they were leaving training (Hangman had offered to do it, but no one trusted him not to put his name down on every slip of paper). Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy took charge of the decorations while Coyote created the perfect holiday music playlist (yet another job everyone refused to let Hangman do). Rooster agreed to pick up the alcohol from the Hard Deck after you somehow managed to talk your dad into letting you hold the party in the rec room on base. For such little planning time, everything seemed like it came together flawlessly. 

That was until you arrived. The room looked amazing. Strings of lights, tinsel, and ornaments covered the walls while large paper snowflakes hung down from the ceiling. A table had been set up along the back wall for the food and drinks so you quickly headed back there to deposit your plate of cookies. 

But when you reached it, you stared at the items all laid out and sighed loudly. “Jake.”

Hangman crossed the room to where you were standing. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wasn’t your job to make sure everyone was bringing something different?”

“Uh, if I remember correctly, you just said to find out what everyone was bringing and make a list.” He grinned widely. “I think everyone made excellent choices.”

You groaned as you looked back at the table which was filled with nothing but eggnog and a variety of cookies. So much for dinner.

“The eggnog on that end of the table is already spiked.” He pointed towards the six bottles to the left. Then pointing to the only small bottle on the right, he added. “That one is plain.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Good to know. I’ll make sure to tell Bob.”

Hangman grabbed a gingerbread man from the plate at the center of the table. With a wink, he snapped off the head between his teeth and said, “And don’t forget to try one of these. They’re an old Seresin family secret recipe.” And then he walked off to where Coyote was hooking up the speakers.

You groaned again as you scrubbed your hand over your face. It really shouldn’t have surprised you that Hangman would do this and if you had to guess, he probably even encouraged others to bring one of the two items in front of you.

“It’s okay. I just ordered a dozen pizzas and they should be here in about an hour.”

You looked up in surprise to see Rooster suddenly standing next to you. “You didn’t have to do that. That must have cost you a fortune.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I put it on Mav’s card.” Rooster said.

Laughing, you said, “Remind me to thank him later.” Poking Rooster in the chest, you added. “Great sweater by the way. Very appropriate.”

Rooster looked down at the giant chicken wearing a Santa hat that was on his chest. “Thanks. I saw it and couldn’t resist.” 

The two of you stood in silence for a minute, each munching on a cookie. But just as you finished yours and was about to excuse yourself, Rooster pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and offered it to you. “I’m not sure how we are doing this, but this is for you. I’m your secret Santa.”

“Oh!” you said in surprise. “Thank you.”

Taking the envelope, you tore it open and peered inside. Your jaw dropped as you looked back up at him. “Are these…”

Rooster smiled as he nodded. “I know you were talking about how bummed you were that the concert sold out before you could get tickets. Merry Christmas.”

Still in shock, you removed the two plastic cards and the attached lanyards. “Rooster, these aren’t just tickets. These are backstage passes. Don’t tell me you put these on Mav’s credit card too?”

“No, then it wouldn’t have been a gift from me.”

“You realize we had a $20 gift limit. This is so, so much more than that!” 

He shook his head. “Technically, I didn’t pay for them. I have a buddy from an old deployment who is working private security now, including for that concert. He owed me a favor so I just made a few calls.” He shifted slightly. “I hope that doesn’t lessen the gift.”

You threw your arms around his neck. “Are you kidding? Of course not! This is absolutely amazing. Thank you so much!”

“Oh, um, you’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.” He patted your back softly, clearly surprised by the hug. You pulled back to see his face had turned red underneath his mustache.

Releasing him and taking a step back, you said, “Man, now I just feel bad all I got Coyote was a dart board to set up in his dorm.” Looking down at your present again, you held up the passes. “Who is the second one for?”

Rooster shrugged. “Whoever you want. I figured you might have more fun if you have someone go with you.”

“Would… would you want to go? I mean, you did get them for me and pretty much everyone else I know around here will still be gone on leave. But if you don’t want to–”

“No. I’d love to go with you.”

You blinked in surprise. “Great! Um, yeah. We can figure out the details later but it’s a date!” You felt your cheeks grow hot. “I mean, not a ‘date, date’, just that we have set a date for us to do something. Together. I–I’ll stop talking now.”

“I got what you meant,” he said with a small smile.

You smiled back. Just then, Phoenix called to Rooster from the other side of the room. Glancing over, you said, “Looks like you’re needed. But thank you again. This really is the best Christmas present anyone has ever gotten me.” 

“You’re welcome. And Merry Christmas.”

Rooster started to walk away but as he passed you, you reached out and grabbed his arm. Then you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. His face grew bright red once more but he smiled brightly at you. Then you released his arm and he walked over to Phoenix.

The rest of the evening went great. Once the pizzas arrived, no one really seemed to mind the overabundance of cookies and eggnog. When Mav and Penny showed up later in the night, everyone yelled “Thanks for the pizza” as they walked in. The bewildered couple just smiled and nodded as they exchanged glances. Rooster explained later and everyone had a good laugh about it. 

Coyote loved his gift but told you not to tell Hangman about it. He wanted to practice in secret so he might finally be able to beat the other aviator. You promised and told him to let you know anytime he wanted someone to play against.

It was just before midnight when you saw your dad slip into the room. No one else seemed to have noticed Cyclone grab a drink and a few cookies before retreating to the back corner. Excusing yourself from your conversation with Bob and Phoenix, you walked over to him. 

“Hey. Glad you could make it.”

He nodded. “I was just about to leave for the night and figured I would stop by to make sure you all hadn’t destroyed the place.” 

“I would be mad you thought so poorly of us, but honestly, that doesn’t sound too unimaginable,” you laughed. Then you bumped your shoulder against his arm. “Thanks for arranging it so everyone gets to go home for Christmas. I know how much that means to all of them.”

He took a sip of his eggnog. “Yeah, well, they deserve it after what they accomplished this year.” Turning to look at you, he added, “Sorry you’re stuck here for leave. But I do appreciate you staying so we can spend the holidays together.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a big hug. “Of course! This is the first time we’ve both been stateside for Christmas in years. I wasn’t going to miss the chance to celebrate with you.”

He squeezed you back. “Thanks, kiddo. I’m just sorry that I still have to work for most of your leave. It seems like such a waste of your time off.”

You caught Rooster’s eye from across the room and he gave you a shy, but warm smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can find something to keep me occupied.”

Taglist:@loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @11thstreetvigilante, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxnd, @airhogger, @notroosterbradshaw, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fangirlinc, @sparrows-corner, @therebeccaw, @mads-weasley, @trencher4lyfe, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @maggie8002sq, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @tellrock35, @shanimallina87, @mak-32

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Secret Santa

Winter Whumperland: Day 6. Shared Holiday Meal

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader, Simpson!Reader

Summary: With everyone heading home for the holidays, the Daggers decide to throw a last-minute holiday party before they leave. And your secret Santa takes you by surprise.

Word Count: 1758

TW: Fluff

Notes: This idea started out as more of a group fic (hence the header) but slowly transformed into a Rooster fic as I wrote it.

It was a Christmas miracle that the entire Dagger Squad was somehow able to all get leave for the holidays. It was almost unheard of but no one wanted to ask any questions in case someone realized a mistake had been made. And so, tickets home to visit family had been purchased all around and everyone began to pack their bags to leave. 

Only two members of the squad were staying in town. Rooster had agreed to spend the holidays with Mav, Penny, and Amelia. It was the first time in over fifteen years he would be spending the holidays with his godfather and both men were secretly very excited about the idea. And you were staying near North Island to spend the holiday season with your father. As the Air Boss at Top Gun, it wasn’t surprising that Cyclone wasn’t able to get Christmas day off, yet he had managed to work it out so he would be able to be home early. It was more than you usually got with him so you were beyond thrilled.

And yet…. 

It was amazing how close all of you had become in the last few months. While most of you had known each other either personally or by reputation before the Dagger Mission, the bonds that formed between the members of your team were stronger than any of you had experienced in past assignments. Personally, you chalked it up to Mav’s training and focus on teamwork and support. But regardless of the reason, the Dagger Squad had become its own small family.

Which was what made the fact you were all going to be scattered across the country for the holidays so bittersweet. You were all going to be with one family but leaving another behind. Which was why everyone immediately got on board when Bob suggested a mini-Dagger Christmas the night before everyone left. 

It was decided they would hold a potluck dinner where everyone brought their favorite holiday treat. Payback organized a Secret Santa and had everyone draw names from his helmet when they were leaving training (Hangman had offered to do it, but no one trusted him not to put his name down on every slip of paper). Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy took charge of the decorations while Coyote created the perfect holiday music playlist (yet another job everyone refused to let Hangman do). Rooster agreed to pick up the alcohol from the Hard Deck after you somehow managed to talk your dad into letting you hold the party in the rec room on base. For such little planning time, everything seemed like it came together flawlessly. 

That was until you arrived. The room looked amazing. Strings of lights, tinsel, and ornaments covered the walls while large paper snowflakes hung down from the ceiling. A table had been set up along the back wall for the food and drinks so you quickly headed back there to deposit your plate of cookies. 

But when you reached it, you stared at the items all laid out and sighed loudly. “Jake.”

Hangman crossed the room to where you were standing. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wasn’t your job to make sure everyone was bringing something different?”

“Uh, if I remember correctly, you just said to find out what everyone was bringing and make a list.” He grinned widely. “I think everyone made excellent choices.”

You groaned as you looked back at the table which was filled with nothing but eggnog and a variety of cookies. So much for dinner.

“The eggnog on that end of the table is already spiked.” He pointed towards the six bottles to the left. Then pointing to the only small bottle on the right, he added. “That one is plain.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Good to know. I’ll make sure to tell Bob.”

Hangman grabbed a gingerbread man from the plate at the center of the table. With a wink, he snapped off the head between his teeth and said, “And don’t forget to try one of these. They’re an old Seresin family secret recipe.” And then he walked off to where Coyote was hooking up the speakers.

You groaned again as you scrubbed your hand over your face. It really shouldn’t have surprised you that Hangman would do this and if you had to guess, he probably even encouraged others to bring one of the two items in front of you.

“It’s okay. I just ordered a dozen pizzas and they should be here in about an hour.”

You looked up in surprise to see Rooster suddenly standing next to you. “You didn’t have to do that. That must have cost you a fortune.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I put it on Mav’s card.” Rooster said.

Laughing, you said, “Remind me to thank him later.” Poking Rooster in the chest, you added. “Great sweater by the way. Very appropriate.”

Rooster looked down at the giant chicken wearing a Santa hat that was on his chest. “Thanks. I saw it and couldn’t resist.” 

The two of you stood in silence for a minute, each munching on a cookie. But just as you finished yours and was about to excuse yourself, Rooster pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and offered it to you. “I’m not sure how we are doing this, but this is for you. I’m your secret Santa.”

“Oh!” you said in surprise. “Thank you.”

Taking the envelope, you tore it open and peered inside. Your jaw dropped as you looked back up at him. “Are these…”

Rooster smiled as he nodded. “I know you were talking about how bummed you were that the concert sold out before you could get tickets. Merry Christmas.”

Still in shock, you removed the two plastic cards and the attached lanyards. “Rooster, these aren’t just tickets. These are backstage passes. Don’t tell me you put these on Mav’s credit card too?”

“No, then it wouldn’t have been a gift from me.”

“You realize we had a $20 gift limit. This is so, so much more than that!” 

He shook his head. “Technically, I didn’t pay for them. I have a buddy from an old deployment who is working private security now, including for that concert. He owed me a favor so I just made a few calls.” He shifted slightly. “I hope that doesn’t lessen the gift.”

You threw your arms around his neck. “Are you kidding? Of course not! This is absolutely amazing. Thank you so much!”

“Oh, um, you’re welcome. I’m glad you like them.” He patted your back softly, clearly surprised by the hug. You pulled back to see his face had turned red underneath his mustache.

Releasing him and taking a step back, you said, “Man, now I just feel bad all I got Coyote was a dart board to set up in his dorm.” Looking down at your present again, you held up the passes. “Who is the second one for?”

Rooster shrugged. “Whoever you want. I figured you might have more fun if you have someone go with you.”

“Would… would you want to go? I mean, you did get them for me and pretty much everyone else I know around here will still be gone on leave. But if you don’t want to–”

“No. I’d love to go with you.”

You blinked in surprise. “Great! Um, yeah. We can figure out the details later but it’s a date!” You felt your cheeks grow hot. “I mean, not a ‘date, date’, just that we have set a date for us to do something. Together. I–I’ll stop talking now.”

“I got what you meant,” he said with a small smile.

You smiled back. Just then, Phoenix called to Rooster from the other side of the room. Glancing over, you said, “Looks like you’re needed. But thank you again. This really is the best Christmas present anyone has ever gotten me.” 

“You’re welcome. And Merry Christmas.”

Rooster started to walk away but as he passed you, you reached out and grabbed his arm. Then you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. His face grew bright red once more but he smiled brightly at you. Then you released his arm and he walked over to Phoenix.

The rest of the evening went great. Once the pizzas arrived, no one really seemed to mind the overabundance of cookies and eggnog. When Mav and Penny showed up later in the night, everyone yelled “Thanks for the pizza” as they walked in. The bewildered couple just smiled and nodded as they exchanged glances. Rooster explained later and everyone had a good laugh about it. 

Coyote loved his gift but told you not to tell Hangman about it. He wanted to practice in secret so he might finally be able to beat the other aviator. You promised and told him to let you know anytime he wanted someone to play against.

It was just before midnight when you saw your dad slip into the room. No one else seemed to have noticed Cyclone grab a drink and a few cookies before retreating to the back corner. Excusing yourself from your conversation with Bob and Phoenix, you walked over to him. 

“Hey. Glad you could make it.”

He nodded. “I was just about to leave for the night and figured I would stop by to make sure you all hadn’t destroyed the place.” 

“I would be mad you thought so poorly of us, but honestly, that doesn’t sound too unimaginable,” you laughed. Then you bumped your shoulder against his arm. “Thanks for arranging it so everyone gets to go home for Christmas. I know how much that means to all of them.”

He took a sip of his eggnog. “Yeah, well, they deserve it after what they accomplished this year.” Turning to look at you, he added, “Sorry you’re stuck here for leave. But I do appreciate you staying so we can spend the holidays together.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a big hug. “Of course! This is the first time we’ve both been stateside for Christmas in years. I wasn’t going to miss the chance to celebrate with you.”

He squeezed you back. “Thanks, kiddo. I’m just sorry that I still have to work for most of your leave. It seems like such a waste of your time off.”

You caught Rooster’s eye from across the room and he gave you a shy, but warm smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can find something to keep me occupied.”

Taglist:@valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @sugarcoated-lame, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @chouricojr, @king-of-milf-lovers, @high-fidelities, @shaded-echoes-recs, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014

[serendipitous-magic]

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

_-_

2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

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4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

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5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

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6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

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7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

_-_

8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

_-_

9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

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10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

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11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery. 

_-_

12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

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13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

_-_

14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

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15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

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16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story. 

It also informs character behavior and personality. 

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Mr. Gallagher and Me

Jim (The Delinquent Season) x Reader

A/n- Crawling towards the drama.

Playlist Chapter 3 Masterlists

Chapter 4

After an innocent quip leads to a fight, Y/n and Jim make up in his office and confess feelings that they hadn't shared before. Warnings- SMUT/NSFW

Late April He was mad at her, furious even, though Y/n had been inclined to think that his anger had been completely irrational. It wasn’t like either of them had set their futures in stone and she couldn’t have possibly fathomed what would happen by the time she’d graduated the next year and neither could he, that was all she wanted to understand. It wasn’t like she was trying to break up with him, she’d really only made a careless, passing comment;

“If we’re still together,” emphasis on the ‘if’.

He’d been suggesting that they take a trip to London when their relationship became less scandalous, and that had prompted Y/n’s damning remark. Things had only gone downhill from there, a fervent discussion had turned into a heated fight about their relationship. He’d argued that he introduced her to his kids and she had to have understood that he’d only done that because he was serious about their relationship while Y/n had stood her ground, countering that she was indeed also serious about their relationship, but she wasn’t going to pretend that things would be the same by the next year.

In the end, Jim had hurriedly gotten dressed, grabbed his keys and left her apartment. Y/n hadn’t heard from him since. Even when they’d gotten to work that Monday, he’d practically ignored her, speaking to her only when it was absolutely necessary and constantly turning down her offers to help with marking the remaining midterm papers.

By Wednesday though, she’d come up with a plan of sorts, a means of making herself almost impossible to ignore. A tight, leather skirt that hugged her ass and stopped at the center of her thighs, paired with a black sweater tucked into the high waist and thin, shiny heels that clicked when she walked. The whole get up was far more glamorous than anything she usually wore to work- or in general- but Y/n thought it was a fitting way to get Jim’s attention.

And it was working too; she’d felt his eyes on her every time she walked ahead of him, and then when she’d bent to pick up a marker she’d ‘accidentally’ dropped while doing a demonstration of a calculation in class, she’d heard him suck in a sharp breath. Y/n had also heard the stir of salacious mummers throughout the freshman class too, but they were merely collateral.

By the time he’d dismissed his students, twenty minutes earlier than usual, Jim was visibly riled up, and Y/n had to admit, she was more than amused by it. He rushed the packing up, putting away his laptop and the projector in the time that it took her to clean off the white board and then put the markers and duster in the little case that it was usually stored in. She was just putting her things away and already, Jim was waiting at the door with his hand hovering over the light switch. On purpose, she exaggerated the amount of time she needed to pack up, slowly shimmying her phone into the front compartment before sauntering towards him, “I need to see you in my office,” he mumbled, evident edge in his low tone. It was the most he’d said to her all week and Y/n had to suppress a coy grin; her plan had worked- Jim was a lot of things, sweet, kind, patient, but he was, at the base of things, a man. A man who liked short skirts and tight blouses on his girlfriend just as much as any other.

In silence, they walked to his office, which was a painstaking five minutes on foot from the lecture hall they’d just left. With his pace though, and Y/n right beside him in step, five was cut down to three and by the time they’d encased themselves in the elevator, tensions were high and Y/n could have sworn that he would have escalated right there- but he didn’t.

Instead, the doors slid open to the fourth floor and she was close on Jim’s heels when he slipped the key into the lock. When they stepped inside though, he finally relented, hastily dropping his laptop bag on the sofa against the wall and barely giving Y/n a moment to put her own bag down before grabbing her hips, clumsily walking her to the edge of his desk.

“Is this your version of an apology?” Jim finally spoke, albeit hastily and the air suddenly thickened as he brought his face close to hers, the cool, subtle scent of his aftershave tickling her senses.

“I don’t have anything to apologize for,” Y/n scoffed with a smirk as his hands slipped up the hem of her skirt, just after she’d unceremoniously slid onto the edge of the cluttered desk, the clamor of things shifting around muted by their haste.

Jim hummed, just as his lips found her neck, “So that’s a no?” Y/n’s response was an almost inaudible hitch in her breath as he nibbled on her pulse, “We have to talk about this,” he mumbled against her skin as Y/n started to push off his blazer; he’d dressed differently that day, breaking away from his army of cozy sweaters in favor of a tailored navy blazer with a t-shirt and jeans and Y/n wondered if he’d done it for the same reason she’d pulled that skirt out from the back of her closet, he had to have known that she loved that combination on him.

She raised her brows in amusement and smirked as his coat fell to the floor. Y/n reached for the buckle of his belt, just as Jim tugged her closer, fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties, tugging them down, not letting them go until he were slipping to the floor, pooling in a scanty puddle of gray lace between their feet. “So we’re talking now?”

“Seems like you wanna be,” Jim’s lips deserted her neck and he pressed his mouth to hers in a fervent endearment. “What were you expecting when you put that skirt on this morning?” Jim inquired, lips still feverishly moving against hers and Y/n clutched his shoulders.

A sound of wicked mirth escaped her throat and she scooted closer, aching for more than a few passionate kisses and rough touches, “To be on time, it’s laundry day, I didn’t have anything else to wear.”

“Yeah?” He rasped into her mouth, and Y/n used her heels to start easing his jeans down, “And what were you expecting when you dropped that marker?” His pants and boxers stopped at his knees and Jim roughly pushed her short skirt up her thighs and her breath hitched when she felt his erection brush her inner thigh. It had only been a few days, about five maximum, but it had felt like forever since they’d been together and suddenly Y/n thought that talking was the last thing on her mind.

“I was expecting,” she draped her arms on his shoulders and where her fingers met behind his neck, she caressed his nape, “This,” after the murmured words, she moved to deepen the kiss.

“The door’s unlocked, “ Jim noted softly, just as he lined himself up with her entrance.

“And?” She challenged, and then, as if he were merely awaiting permission, Jim sheathed himself inside, eliciting a lewd moan from her agape, crimson lips as he filled her up.

“We have to talk about what happened,” Jim’s mumbled reminder was breathless after he stirred up a pace of rough, controlled thrusts, forehead pressed to hers as he moved, “You can’t say something like that and expect me to forget about it.”

“I was just being realistic,” she gritted, biting back a moan as she pressed the back of her feet into his thighs, fingers slipping into the neck of his t-shirt from behind so her nails could graze his skin.

“So it’s not realistic that we’ll be together?” He freed the hem of her blouse from the waist of her skirt, slipping his hands under it so he could snake his hands around her waist and then up her back, his familiar touch igniting goosebumps along her skin.

“That’s not how I-uh!” Abruptly, she cut herself off when a more pronounced roll of his hips noisily shook the desk, “That’s not what I meant,” she heaved her nose brushing his, just as Jim’s hands traversed to her front, still in her blouse and by then invading her bra from the bottom so the pads of his thumbs could erotically brush her nipples.

“Really?” Jim grunted, groping her breasts, paying no mind to the way her bra restricted his hands, “What did you-fuck-mean then?”

Her toes curled and Y/n’s breathing grew heavier, “I meant……” The pressure in her center mounted and Y/n clung to him desperately, struggling to shift her hips to match his, eager for more friction. Her legs were quickly growing tenser, and her words were becoming increasingly incoherent. “I…..” The very minuscule part of her that cold still think straight wanted to tell him what she’d really meant that night, but her ability to form logical thought had been corrupted and all she could do was focus on how it felt, right there with him; the pleasurable friction brought on by his impassioned rhythm, the heat of his breath on her face, the warmth of his skin under her fingers and the roughness of his hands under her bra.

That afternoon was quite unlike every other time they’d been together like that, there were no slow strokes and sensual touches, instead it was faster and his frustration with her and the way they left things was palpable. So much so that it was hard to not be overwhelmed, and when one of Jim’s hands deserted her cleavage, roaming to cradle the back of her neck as his pace gradually became more rigid and untamed, the broil in the pit of her stomach explosively overflowed and Y/n cried out, legs stiffening momentarily as her arms thrown around Jim’s neck hugged him tighter. His name, or some muddled version of it was a euphoric praise off her lips and her panted breaths ballooned and deflated her chest in unmanned bursts.

Close on her heels, Jim’s release came soon after, the feel of him twitching against her walls amplified by the sensitivity there, the feeling of generous bursts of his product sending shocks up her spine and prolonging her own ecstasy. He grunted her name along with a string of obscenities against Y/n’s mouth between moments spent leading her lips in hungry kisses. His fingers dragged along her skin as they started to curl, and Y/n’s hip arched into his, as if to soak up every bit of what he was offering.

Minutes after it was over, Jim pulled out, a heavy sigh seeping off his lips to accompany her subtle wince. “That was….” He huffed a faint chuckle, cupping her neck, and then bringing his forehead to hers, he went back on what they’d been talking about earlier, “What did you mean?”

Exhaling softly, Y/n laid her hands over the back of his hands, Jim’s palms still cradling her neck, “Your life is here…..mine is…..I don’t know yet, and I don’t know if I’ll figure it out by then.”

“But there’s time,” Jim reasoned, “You can….”

“I can what?” Y/n swallowed thickly and frowned, tightening her affectionate grip on his hands, “I grew up in Nevada, started building a life in San Francisco and now I’m here. Before I met you, this was just about getting my degree and putting some miles between me and Kyle. But now…..” without even saying it, Y/n knew what she wanted things to look like after she graduated, she just didn’t know for certain if it was right; changing her life for a man, again?

“Now what?” Jim prompted, his nose touching hers.

“Now….” Conflicted, her voice broke and Y/n hated the part of herself that was second guessing Jim. He hadn’t ever given her a reason to assume that he was even remotely like Kyle, she should have trusted him completely, she wanted to. “Now…..I love you,” she admitted, barring herself from adding anything else- it was the first time she’d said it to him and Y/n couldn’t stand the thought of such a important profession being weighed down by her own insecurities about their relationship.

Jim gasped, and for a split second, Y/n worried that he wasn’t going to say it back, but then his hands slid up to hold her face and he returned sincerely, “I love you too.” He was smiling faintly, but Y/n almost missed it because in an instant, he’d captured her lips in a torrid lip lock. Humming against her lips, they stayed just like that for a few precious moments more before Jim began abruptly, “I don’t care where you are….as long as you want me, we’ll make it work. I want you in my life, Y/n- if you want me in yours.”

“I want you in mine,” she promised, her touch deserting the back of his hands so she could drape her arms on his shoulders, tangling the tips of her fingers in his hair. “I’m sorry that I started that fight, I just didn’t want us to lie to ourselves and think everything’s gonna be perfect.”

“No one says it has to be- it doesn’t,” Jim stressed, “As long as we want it to work, that’s what matters. I’m sorry I spun out without trying to see things from your perspective.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Y/n reassured, planting a short, slow kiss on his lips, “You see me in your future, and I like that,” she shrugged, “I see you in mine too,” even if it scared her, she did see Jim when she pictures her life five, ten and maybe even twenty years from then.

The buzz of the moment cocooned them, and for a while, Y/n and Jim were perfectly fine with staying like that; letting the warmth of bliss encapsulate them, just for a little longer than a few savory minutes, but alas the pin that was the rest of the work day quickly burst their bubble when when from her handbag, an alarm that signaled they had thirty minutes before his next class went off. “We should…”

“Yeah,” Jim relented, reaching for a box of tissues near the corner of his desk, helping her clean up before he did the same for himself. As thoroughly as they could with their limited material, they straightened themselves out with just enough time left to make it to his next, and thankfully final, class of the semester.

“I can't believe it’s been a year already, well, a school year,” Y/n broke the silence when they’d started gathering their things.

“I know,” Jim agreed, pausing to check his phone, thumb tapping the screen quickly as he added, “Doesn’t feel like it’s been longer than a couple months.”

As she set off a couple steps ahead of him, reaching for the door knob after situating the leather strap of her bag on her shoulder, Y/n was about to respond, but stopped herself, “Did you leave this open?” She knitted her brows, quizzically regarding the door, which had been apparently left slightly ajar.

Glancing up from his phone, Jim drew closer, also scrutinizing the door, “No, I'm pretty sure I closed it, it wasn’t locked, but definitely closed.” He thought about it some more before stepping past Y/n, “Maybe the knob’s broken?” He reached forward, shutting the door to test the knob’s integrity, and then, when after a few seconds nothing happened, he frowned, “I could have sworn I closed it,” he rasped below his breath.

Y/n drew in a sharp breath, trying to shake off the worry that threatened her mood, “Maybe you didn’t realize it was open,” Jim didn’t seem to hear her though, still pensively studying the door, and she suspected that he shared her shrouded worries; had they been caught? “Hey,” she claimed his hand, offering a reassuring squeeze, “Its probably fine, don’t worry about it too much.”

Even as she said the words though, Y/n couldn't help the sinking feeling in her gut that insisted that there was indeed, something to worry about.

[jjksblackgf]

BTS headcanon - meeting your parents

a/n: i turned this into a headcanon, i hope you don't mind <3

— your ex wanting you back reaction

kim seokjin

nervous™ and it shows

poor boy has been sweating ever since you gave the idea

super concerned about his english

you assure him it's fine and that you'll translate everything, no prob

the day of, he's a bit calmer, especially after your mom is so excited to meet him

he wants to help around, he feels like it would awkward if he just sits there

setting up the table and your mom and grandma are nonstop compliments

"So thoughtful and charming" they beam

he understands "charming" so he grins and relaxes a little more

complimenting the food as best he can

helps serve the dessert

only fully relax in the ride back to the hotel

you reassure the family loves him already

he's now excited to more meetings with your family

min yoongi

also nervous, but has an easier time hiding it

50/50 chance of pulling it off perfect english

you take him to a family cookout

he's excited about the food

you saw him preparing a playlist just in case

the whole family embrace him as best as they can

he's getting out of his introverted comfort zone and being extra sociable

a few of your cousins already know of him, from you beaming for him since you were a fan

once they see he's super chill to hang out with, they're happy for you

he mingles mostly with the uncles

they saw him bop his head to a 2Pac track and a hip-hop convo broke out

he gets the chance to show his playlist

full of classics

easy to say he fit well with the group after that

jung hoseok

he's been practing english and he's confident about it

loves that he'll be able to make conversation with your parents

at dinner, they mostly ask him about his career

he's eager to explain everything

and also show he's a down to earth guy

they love his travel stories

always smiles at you when you're talking

absolutely loves that you want him in your world

your parents notice quickly how whipped he is for you

always complimenting the food, he loves it so much

brings a Korean dessert, loves the cultural exchange

super polite, helps with the dishes after dinner

he fits right in with your family

you leave with plans for him to visit them again

kim namjoon

he's been waiting for this moment

he knows how much your family is important to you

he wanted to know them sooner and was going to suggest it

but afraid to give the idea if you were uncomfortable about it, for whatever reason

he adores that you want to share that part of your life with him

meeting your parents, they initially think he's from NY

he grins widely at that, but confirms he's Korean

you both giggle from the little inside joke

recognizes the foods, you've been cooking it for a while now

while talking, he gets to say how much he appreciates and loves you

assures them he's not going to take you for granted and only wants your happiness

you two get to share your travel stories

you get to beam over how much you love him, just to get him shy

he's already waiting for his next invitation

park jimin

so nervous, this poor angel

says he'll be asking for you to translate often

you already said you had his back, but he wanted to make sure anyway

he mostly clings to you

you hold his hand to reassure him

once he gets talking, though, it's over

communicates as best he can, tries to make jokes even

your parents like him already

helps with dinner, sets the table too

he's often asking your parents about themselves, he wants to know his in-laws

either english or asking you to translate

your mom gets to show him an album of your baby photos

he gets so excited, takes a bunch of pictures

very joyful experience in the end

kim taehyung

he's confident about this

still, asks for support if he messes up somewhere

he tries not to overthink it much

after all, you wouldn't bring him to meet your parents if you didn't like him for whom he is

before dinner, he gets shy

but loosens a bit when he sees a few vinyl records

asks your parents if he can take a better look

asks permission again to play something

once they agree, he plays some Al Green

create this nice mood for dinner

his smile from then on is all everyone can notice

gets to sing along to his favorite tracks

gets shy again they you applaud

leaves thinking about bringing some records for the next time

jeon jungkook

is happy about meeting your family

determined to not let his shy side get in the way

he's made a list of topics to talk about over dinner

asked you to approve each topic

he feels more confident now

brings a dessert he thought they would like

turns out he didn't need that long of a list of topics

when he wasn't explaining what is like to be in the spotlight

your parents would share some stories about you growing up

or how much you loved him before you knew each other

you groaned at that, but Jungkook reassured you that he found it lovely

gets to see your bedroom

gets to see your childhood photos too

happy when your parents invite for lunch the next day

[mercy-burning]

High Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer calls Reader to see if he can come over, but she’s already having her own fun and suggests something... out of the box. Category: Smut 18+ (oral- male receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, sex while high) Warnings: Smoking (marijuana), language, smut. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.1k

***

The prospect of seeing Spencer Reid again was something that always excited Y/N. They'd only been seeing each other for about two months, but she never really knew when she would get to see him because of his job, and that made their relationship all the more interesting. Though, she wasn't really sure if she could call it a relationship, considering they had only went on one date. And even then, it was barely considered a date because they ended up leaving the movie twenty minutes in and spent the rest of the night having sex in her car.

Recalling that night to herself, Y/N smiled and wondered about all the other things they could do together.

She daydreamed for a few more minutes, and in no time her legs had started to shift together, craving any form of friction. And since her partner wasn't there to help, Y/N figured she'd find it elsewhere.

After shuffling to her bedroom, she stripped herself of all her clothes except for a pair of thin scarlet panties and put on a hotel bathrobe she'd stolen, not bothering to tie it closed. Then she opted to reach towards something she didn't normally use, but had on hand in case the need ever presented itself.

In a small box under her nightstand was a lighter accompanied by some joints she'd gotten from a friend a few weeks ago. The only time she ever really smoked was when she was with said friend, but it wasn't something she was ever opposed to partaking in. It just rarely ever crossed her mind.

Minutes later and Y/N was on the couch again, windows shut, lights off, a few candles lit in an attempt to offset the strong scent, and her earbuds in. There was a glass of red wine and another glass of iced water on the table in front of her, and she was all set. Before she took the box out of the pocket of her robe, she took a sip of wine and leaned back against the arm of the couch, one leg hanging off and and the other pulled to her chest.

After turning on a lo-fi playlist and taking a joint and the lighter from the box, Y/N finally lit it, then set her things on the table before taking a long drag. When she pulled it from her lips and slowly exhaled, she closed her eyes and focused on the music blasting through her earbuds. It didn't take long, only a few 3-minute songs, to feel a little buzzed. She kept her breathing steady, only taking a few drags once in a while as her free hand drifted over the front of her body, tracing patterns down her stomach and occasionally her breasts.

She was completely and totally relaxed. But just as she was about to dip her hand past her panties, the music stopped and her phone rang.

Had she not been slightly buzzed, she would have been more annoyed, but instead she just sighed, more disappointed than anything that her plans would (maybe) have to wait, depending on who was calling.

So Y/N was more than happy to look at her phone and see the words 'SPENCER REID' across the screen.

Unplugging her earbuds and then taking one more drag from her joint, she answered the phone. "Hey, Doc, what's up?" she inquired, smoke falling off her lips. "I'm happy you called."

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry to call so late."

"Nah, that's alright. It's never too late to get a call from my favorite guy."

She heard him laugh a little from the other end of the line. "Good. Well, um... I just got back from work and I was wondering if... maybe I could come over? That's fine if you're too busy, but I could really use the company, and I... I've missed you."

The smile on Y/N's face was unavoidable. And maybe it was only the buzz talking, but God, if hearing his voice wasn't the best thing in the whole world. It was almost as intoxicating as the high she was slowly but surely achieving.

"Aw, I've missed you, too, Doc," she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

Would it be wrong of me to pick up where I left off, she wondered as she waited for him to answer, her hand hovering over the waistband of her underwear. She took another drag of the joint and decided against it, though it was still tempting.

"Well, we can do anything you want, really, I just... I just want to be with you, that's all."

"Hmm... Alright. Well, come on over, and I'll be waiting."

"Okay. Should I, uh, bring some overnight clothes?"

Y/N felt like that was his subtle way of asking if they were going to be sleeping together that night, and just in case it wasn't, she added extra emphasis on her answer to either confirm his inquiry or give him a hint. "Yes."

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line before saying goodbye, and it made her giddy. They hung up, and she put the joint out, sticking it back in the box before wafting away some of the smoke and tying her robe closed. Every move she made made her head swim a little, but if anything she figured the small high she's created will make the sex feel even better.

She ran to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then spritzed on some perfume, hoping to mask some of the smell in case, for some reason, Spencer had a problem with it. She was sure he wouldn't, but she never wanted to make him uncomfortable with anything. Also, she just wanted to smell like the vanilla perfume she had that he once told her he loved anyway. Running back out to the living room, Y/N noticed that it still faintly smelled like marijuana. The candles masked it enough, though, and she figured it might dissipate by the time he got there.

Eventually she found herself on the couch again, before deciding to wait by the door. The thought of seeing Spencer again sent her body into a giddy, lovesick mess. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, and if that meant waiting by the front door like a puppy then so be it.

And then there was a knock at the door.

She wanted to wait. Really, she did. But she couldn't resist, and almost as soon as he'd stopped knocking, Y/N grabbed the doorknob and twisted, opening the door to reveal him standing there. He almost looked shocked, probably at the speed and ferocity with which she used to open the door, but once he saw her face, the shock melted into pure adoration, his lips forming a shy smile as he clutched his bag in his hands.

"Hi, Y/N," he said softly as she stepped aside and let him in.

"Hey'a, Doc," she chirped happily as she shut the door behind him.

He took his shoes off and set his bag on the ground before he spoke again. "You... lit candles," he observed, then turned around to fully take her in. His eyes drifted to her robe, which hung loosely closed, her underwear just barely peeking through. "And you look..."

His soft voice turned her insides into a quivering mess, and it took all of her strength not to jump him on the spot. She waited for him to finish his sentence, but it was clear that she'd rendered him speechless.

"Yeah, I was only going to have a relaxing night in," she explained, tilting her head up and exposing her neck. "You called at just the right time."

His head also tilted upwards, but he sniffed the air a few times. "Have... you been smoking?"

Y/N was a little panicked, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh. Yeah," she laughed, twirling a piece of her hair in between her fingers. "I was smoking a joint when you called, so I'm just a little buzzed right now. I hope that's okay. I thought maybe the candles would help offset the smell, but it's pretty strong I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking. "Oh, uh, no, that's okay. You know, actually, research related to using cannabis before and during sex isn't really conclusive, but it's theorized that depending on the person it could increase pleasure during orgasm, and even just touch in general."

"Is that so?" she responded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She could have listened to him talk all day. He nodded, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. It made her want him even more. "Well... I think we should test out that theory. Don't you, Dr. Reid? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Her hands played with the tie of her robe before she slowly undid the knot and pulled the soft fabric apart, running her fingers lightly across her bare stomach as she did. She took her hands away from the robe just before it exposed her breasts and dropped her hands to her side. Spencer's eyes raked over her once more, each of his breaths getting noticeably heavier.

"Well?" she encouraged, tilting her head to the side.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat a little. "Are, um... Are you high enough to try do you think? Or do you want more?"

She smiled. "Well, I can definitely feel a little of the effects right now, but some more wouldn't hurt. Would you prefer I smoke beforehand or during?"

"Um... Either is fine, I suppose."

One more step and he was close enough to touch, so Y/N reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, already melting at the contact.

"Would you like to share?" she finally asked. "Of course I won't make you if you're not comfortable, I just thought I'd ask."

He smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate that. And... I'd love to share."

Pulling herself away from the door, she kept her hand locked with Spencer's before leading him a few steps away into the living room.

"Have a seat," she offered, reluctantly letting him go as he made his way to sit on the couch. Y/N turned and cleared the coffee table, setting the drinks and candles on the side table instead, and then grabbed the small box as she turned to face Spencer.

Her eyes locked onto his as she swiftly opened the box and grabbed a new joint and her lighter. Setting the box on the side table, she made sure to keep her upper body somewhat covered by the robe. It left just enough exposed that Spencer's eyes briefly left hers and glanced down at her chest, checking to see if anything had slipped. Almost as quickly as he'd looked down, he looked back up, swallowing and slightly parting his lips.

Y/N took that moment to close their distance and promptly straddle his lap. He straightened and placed his hands tentatively on her waist, over her robe as she brought her hand up to his face, lightly tracing the end of the joint across his jawline.

"Have you ever smoked before, Doc," she asked softly as she brought the joint around to trace his lips.

He exhaled a little, and she could see his tongue dance behind his lips, trying to find words it seemed, before settling on, "A few times... I don't particularly care for the smell, but I manage."

She pulled the joint away from him and placed it between her lips, simultaneously holding out the lighter for him to take. He did, and she watched his hands as he flicked it on and lit it for her. She took the lighter from him and reached to the left to toss it on the table next to the box, her hips grinding softly in his lap. She could feel Spencer's breath hitch as she came back, this time leaning backwards a little and sliding the robe over her breasts, finally exposing them as she inhaled.

The pure longing in Spencer's eyes was just as exhilarating, if not better, than the feeling Y/N got when she removed the joint from her lips and slowly let go of her breath. She blew the smoke to the side, barely missing his face, and she noticed how he slightly chased it, tilting his head to inhale some of it.

With her free hand, Y/N dragged her fingers across her breasts and sighed longingly. "You said this could increase pleasure just by touching, right, Doctor?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting down to her chest as he softly bit the corner of his lip.

"Well, I can't tell if this feels better than it would normally, but it definitely feels pretty damn good," she remarked before taking another short drag. Her fingers pinched her nipple lightly, and she moaned as she exhaled, grinding her hips against his once more.

This time he breathed a little louder, nearly a whimper, and it urged Y/N forward. "Touch me, Doctor," she breathed, grinding her hips once more and taking her hand away from her breast.

Without hesitation, Spencer's hand replaced hers, his thumb rolling softly over her nipple. She sighed, holding onto his shoulder with her free hand before taking another drag. This time, when she exhaled, Y/N tilted her head upwards, exposing her neck and, again, grinding her hips. Her eyes closed as he continued to touch her, his other hand resting firmly on her bare waist, skin burning skin.

Every second of this is pure bliss, and they both still had a good amount of clothes on. It could have been the drug taking effect, or maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, but it was the best Y/N had felt in a while.

As she leaned into him, enveloping herself in every sensation, Spencer leaned his head forward and took her nipple into his mouth, lightly sucking on it and swirling is tongue over it, his other hand tightening its grip on her waist. She moaned again, grinding her hips even harder and feeling her stomach flutter at every touch. He moved along to her other breast, following the same motions with his tongue as before as she continued to rock into his hips.

She took one more drag and then exhaled before pulling herself away from him and forcing him to look her in the eye.

"As much as I love how this feels, Doctor, I think you have on a few too many clothes. Here." She handed him the joint. He took it and she climbed up off of him and knelt to the ground, taking him in as he brought it to his lips and inhaled. Y/N sighed, tilting her head and softly biting her bottom lip when he pulled the joint away and breathed out, smoke pooling around his face.

God, he's so hot, she thought to herself as she took him all in. He was wearing just a white button down dress shirt with a tie, black pants, and one sock that was purple, the other white with red polkadots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up just below his elbows, showing off small muscles and veins.

My God, those veins...

She pulled herself out of her trance, crawling up Spencer's legs and resting her hands on his belt. "Can I take these off for you, Doc?"

"Yes," he responded breathlessly.

Y/N looked up at him as she worked at his belt, unbuckling then sliding it out and tossing it on the floor. Then she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before sliding them down, also tossing them aside.

"I'm a little more high than you right now, Doctor, so you might want to catch up if you want this little experiment to be accurate," she purred as she palmed him through his underwear. Without hesitation he took another drag from the joint and closed his eyes, leaning his head back while she continued to tease.

"That's it, Doc, just relax. I'll take good care of you."

Spencer exhaled, groaning as he did so. Y/N's hands continued to trace his dick through the fabric, and she could feel him getting harder beneath her touch. Her head leaned down to kiss his inner thigh, and she trailed her tongue lightly upwards, eventually reaching and pressing a firm kiss to the tip of his dick through the fabric when he took another drag. Her mouth then travelled upwards to his lower stomach, undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt and slowly working her way up, pressing soft kisses and little licks to his skin after undoing each one. She took her time, lightly raking her nails up and down his torso in between buttons. By the time she reached the top, undoing his tie and tossing it aside, leaving his shirt on but completely open, he was in the middle of taking another drag.

Sliding off her robe and tossing it aside, Y/N waited until he exhaled, then straddled him again and firmly pressed her lips to his. Her hands glided up to the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging lightly, as she's learned over time he very much enjoyed. As if she'd needed confirmation, Spencer moaned into her mouth, using his free hand to lightly caress her back.

Now that there were less clothes between them, Y/N ground her hips against his again, and her lower stomach practically burst into butterflies, sending her into a mess of tremors. She moaned softly as she took his bottom lip between her teeth, and then before he could lean in and kiss her again, she pulled away, taking the joint from him and taking another long drag. Her other hand played with his hair as she leaned her head back and breathed out, smoke falling around her.

Spencer's hands gripped her waist firmly as he rocked her hips into his, leaning forward and kissing down the front of her neck.

"Fuck," she breathed, grinding harder and feeling her breathing pick up. She could probably cum from just this if they kept at it, but in the weeks since she'd seen him last, she'd craved him, and so she was willing to drag this out as long as possible in case he was somehow called away in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly she peeled herself away and handed him the joint. "You want me to suck you off while you get high, Doc?" she inquired, kneeling once more and tugging on the waistband of his underwear. "Would that feel good?"

"God, yes, Y/N," he breathed, throwing his head back.

"Well, then your wish is my command," she purred, pulling his underwear down and tossing them aside with the other clothes. His dick was even more perfect than she remembered, and her stomach erupted at the sight of it. Licking a line up the length of him, Y/N's eyes fluttered up to look at him through her eyelashes. He was taking another drag of the joint as she took him completely in her mouth and started bobbing her head up and down at a torturous pace. His other hand drifted down to her hair, and he combed it back, away from her face so he could see her.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so good," he groaned, smoke exhaling from his lips as he said it.

She moaned softly around his dick in response, gradually increasing her pace. The lack of breath through her mouth mixed with the cannabis in her system made her head start to spin, but in the best way possible.

Eventually she slowed her movements again, then removed her mouth from him completely, replacing it with her hand. "Would you say the cannabis is increasing you pleasure when I touch you, Dr. Reid?"

At the smooth, seductive tone in her voice, he leaned his head back and sighed as she continued stroking him with her hand. "Yes. You feel so good. You make me feel so fucking good, Y/N."

His words made her stomach coil in desire, and she decided promptly that she needed him right then and there. She peeled her hand away from him and got up, sliding her underwear down and looking him dead in the eye.

"Mmm, I love when you use your words, Doc," she purred, straddling him once more and taking the joint from him to take a drag herself. She took her sweet time, sinking down just a little so that the tip of his cock sat firmly at the base of her pussy, barely touching. She exhaled and used her other hand to comb his hair with her fingers. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want." She meant it wholeheartedly.

His hands slid up her sides and over to her breasts just lightly, enough so that he wasn't touching them completely, but enough that she shivered. He ran them back down and firmly gripped her waist. "I want you to fuck me, Y/N," he said, completely entranced and desperate. "Ride me. Please, I want to feel you."

"Happy to," she breathed before completely sinking down onto him and rocking her hips forward. He groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck..."

She set a steady pace, bouncing nicely on his cock as she took another long drag of the joint. Everything was dizzying and light around her, and every part of her body lit up with pleasure. As she exhaled, she let out a moan louder than she had all night, everything so overwhelmingly blissful and, well... high.

It wouldn't take long to come undone, she was sure of it, and she didn't want this to end so soon. So she slowed her pace, rocking against him ever so slowly, soaking in every inch of him, every touch of his hands as they roamed her body.

Spencer took the joint from her fingers and took another drag, locking eyes with her as he did it. When he blew the smoke out, it enveloped the both of them, and she breathed it in through her nose, taking a deep breath and gripping his shoulders as she worked her hips against his.

"Fuck," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him. When their lips connected, that's when everything started to build. Y/N was pulled impossibly closer to him and her speed started to involuntarily increase. His tongue swiped out to meet with hers and his free hand reached down to her clit, circling it with his thumb. The extra sensation sent her into overdrive, and her orgasm crept up into her, threatening to explode. She groaned into Spencer's mouth, signaling how close she was to coming undone. Her lips parted from his and she rested their foreheads together, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers and plunging himself even deeper into her as his thumb worked her clit.

"That's it, fuck," she breathed, and in no time at all, release found her, blinding her so brightly it was like she was wasn't even on this plane of existence. She let out a long moan, her hips stopping and staying completely still as he fucked into her relentlessly. Her eyes screwed shut, seeing stars as her bliss increased, every thrust of his hips bringing her higher and higher until she was calling out his name.

His name falling off her lips was enough to push Spencer over the edge himself. He pulled her closer as he spilled over inside of her, and Y/N felt like she was on fire. They both hung on to every second until they were both slumped against each other, completely spent and also lightheaded.

Y/N was so unbelievably unbothered and comfortable in that moment that she didn't want to get up, but reluctantly she helped herself up off his lap and placed herself next to him, still hugging close to his side. Neither of them said anything for a while. Rather, they passed the joint between the themselves until it was finished, occasionally kissing each other in between passes.

She set the end of the joint on top of the box on the table before leaning back to Spencer and resting her head on his shoulder. She was completely aware of every glide of his hand up and down her arm as they sat in comfortable silence, until he broke it.

"Gotta say, that's not exactly what I had in mind when I called. But I'm happy about it anyway. We should do that more often."

Y/N snuggled up into his side and giggled. "Anytime, Doc."

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (13)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Wesley performs at-home surgery on you, and Natasha and Wanda remind you who’s in charge from the other side of the world.

Warnings: dark themes, mentions of stitches, poorly written medical stuff, mild injury, implied nudity, smut 18+ ONLY (cyber sex, implied masturbation and overstimulation, sex toy use and penetration)

A/N: let’s not even talk about the fact that I fully intended on not ending another odd numbered chapter with smut and then did it anyway. but also feel free to thank me, as this is (possibly 👀) the last time I’ll be able to include any smut at all so...

Previous part

-

The ringing of a phone broke the silence of the room, and you groaned against the pillow when you realized it was your iPad. Adjusting the covers and rolling over to one of the nightstands, you attempted to wipe the sleepiness away from your eyes before answering the FaceTime call.

“Printsessa!”

You grinned as Natasha and Wanda appeared on the screen, waving and laughing a bit when they waved back with even bigger smiles.

“The most beautiful women in the world! I see that you’ve landed safely.”

“Yep. Just got in the safe house and this one couldn’t wait to see your face again.” Natasha teasingly nudged Wanda’s shoulder, chuckling when she rolled her eyes and pushed back. “But I’m thinking she’s not the only one missing a girlfriend. Is that my shirt?”

“And Wanda’s scrunchie.” You lifted your wrist for her to see and Wanda cooed at you.

“That’s adorable, baby. So how was yesterday? No trouble with Wesley, right?”

“It’s been incredible! We got to play our favorite card games and watch one of our old shows, and today he’s going to make my favorite omelette!”

“You have a favorite omelette?”

“Wes makes his just like my favorite diner in my hometown. I don’t know how he does it, but it’s amazing every time.” You shrugged, relaxing your shoulders as you exhaled in the form of a happy sigh. “I can’t thank you both enough for bringing him here.”

“We just want to see you happy, printsessa,” Natasha told you with a soft smile that faded as she yawned. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we should get some sleep before we need to get out there in the morning.”

“Wait!” Wanda cut in before you could respond, her lips forming a smirk. “Let us see you.”

You playfully rolled your eyes with a shake of your head before standing up and propping up the iPad against the lamp on the nightstand. Stepping back to bring your full form into the frame, you made a big show of slowly stripping away Natasha’s sleep shirt as they cheered, even louder once they realized you weren’t wearing underwear.

“I kind of regret this now,” Wanda sighed, and you laughed.

“At least you have someone! I just have a room full of fun stuff that I’m not even allowed to use,” you pouted.

“Maybe we’ll change that in a few days. Maybe,” Natasha emphasized when you gasped. “Okay pretty baby, we’ll call again soon.”

“Okay, love you!”

You hung up before either of them could respond, shifting over to Apple music and playing the most rated R and sexual playlist you could find, wanting them to assume you were thinking of them in the shower. You were also hoping it would set the mood, leading them to tire each other out and sleep longer.

You could barely hide the proud smile that appeared on your features when you found out through the bugging device that your plan worked.

“Hey, kiddo!” Wes called as you entered the kitchen, hugging you briefly.

“Hey. Is that what I think it is?”

“You mean the special breakfast you specifically requested and threatened me over?” He raised his eyebrow and faced you as you climbed onto the counter, both of you laughing after a moment. “So how’d it go? Sleeping yet?”

“Like babies. We can head down after we eat.”

-

The two of you made your way to the basement after breakfast, and you led Wesley to the game room first to give him an overly enthusiastic tour of the space, grateful when he caught on fast and played along. You then pulled him away from a pinball machine to bring him to the TV area, pushing him toward the couch as you grabbed the remote from the entertainment area.

“Can’t believe you dangled a pinball game in my face just to snatch it away,” he joked.

“We can go back, dummy. I just had to do that because they know I’m pretty attached to that part of the house,” you told him as you looked for a movie to distract yourself from what was coming, which wasn’t easy with Wesley pulling a satchel of tools from his oversized hoodie in your peripheral vision.

“I know this is not the easiest thing to do, but just relax. I brought some numbing cream to help with the pain.”

You leaned against the armrest of the couch to bring yourself in view of the camera, trying not to react to the coldness of the ointment and really attempting to hold it together when he got started on removing the tracker from your leg.

“Would it be easier to just amputate from the knee down?” you grunted, huffing out a breath when he shook his head. “Yeah, I figured.”

It felt like days passed as you gripped a pillow hard enough to break it to deal with the pain that wasn’t numbed, when your cousin finally broke the silence between the two of you.

“Okay, I’m done. How does it feel?”

“Painful,” you mumbled as you examined your stitched skin. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Thanks.”

Wesley handed you the tiny baggie holding the even smaller tracker, and you slid it in your pocket. He moved to get up and you stopped him.

“Where are you going? Let’s finish the movie.”

“Not ready to walk, are you?” You shook your head this time and he laughed. 

When it ended, the two of you made your way back to the game room, choosing one of the racing games so you didn’t have to stand very long. After he beat you in a few races (quite easily, but you wouldn’t admit it to him), you made your way back upstairs to grab a football and head outside.

You were able to walk pretty normally and even lightly jog, but you were dying to relieve the burning patch of healing skin, so you staged a fall as quickly as you could without seeming suspicious. Wesley fussed over you appropriately, helping you into the house to the point of halfway carrying you, and you sighed in relief when you finally got an ice pack on your ankle.

“I’ve never seen someone so happy to fall.”

“Shut up.”

-

It was nearing midnight when you heard from your girlfriends again, being sure to hold an excited smile on your features as you answered the call.

“Good morning! Or is it afternoon?”

“Late afternoon going into early evening but who cares?” Wanda shrugged with a little laugh.

“What are you doing up so late, printsessa?”

“It’s only 11:58,” you replied after checking the time. “And I was hoping you’d call tonight.”

Natasha frowned at the sight of your pout. “Did something happen with Wesley?”

“Yes, but it’s not his fault. I fell in the yard and hurt my ankle, but he helped me inside and keep ice on it all day. He even helped me up here so I didn’t have to strain much on the stairs.”

“Oh baby, you gotta be careful.”

“I know, Wan, I’m sorry.” Your eyes watered a bit while your pout stayed. “I feel a lot better, though! I just wish it didn’t happen. I have so much energy right now and nothing to do with it.”

You frowned when Natasha and Wanda shared a prolonged look, sighing a little so they’d turn their attention back to you. Wanda offered you a smile while Natasha seemed to be doing something in her lap, and she nodded at Wanda before turning to face you again.

“What’s going on?”

“We think we have a way for you to burn all that energy,” Natasha told you while Wanda sat beside her looking like a kid in a candy store. “Check the nightstand on your right.”

You moved over to investigate, pulling the drawer open and frowned when you only spotted a small key, picking it up with a curious gaze.

“It’s just a...wait.” You picked up the iPad with wide eyes. “Is this to the special room?”

Natasha nodded and you squealed in excitement, jumping to your feet and making sure to wince a bit when your left foot made contact with the carpet.

“Careful baby, please!” Wanda begged. “You’re going to give us a heart attack.”

“Sorry!” 

You made your way down the hall and unlocked the door, stepping in and closing and locking the door behind you as they instructed. The iPad was placed in their preferred spot so they could watch you strip again before telling you exactly what to pick out. Their object of choice was a big, sparkly dildo meant to be attached to a flat surface, the headboard of a king sized bed in this case.

“This one is kinda big,” you remarked as you knelt beside the dildo to examine the length.

“But baby,” Natasha began with a falsely sweet tone that you’d grown accustomed to hearing in the bedroom, one that had you squeezing your thighs together immediately. “Don’t you want to be good for us?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good girls listen. Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, Natty.”

“Then you can take it.”

You took a deep breath and positioned yourself, reaching for your clit between your parted legs and trying not to gasp in reaction to what you felt.

“You’re already soaked, aren’t you baby?”

You nodded and closed your eyes as you kept working your middle finger across the sensitive nub, slowly backing up onto the erect length and whimpering as it filled you up.

“That’s it, baby,” Wanda called out breathily, and you didn’t even need to raise your head to know she was touching herself, as was Natasha. “You’re so good at this.”

You paused for a moment when your ass bumped into the headboard, giving yourself time to adjust to being stretched open like this on your own. Pulling your hand away to rest both of them on the bed in front of you for support, you glanced at the iPad to see both of them watching you, and you stifled the moan that left you when you realized they were getting each other off.

“Like what you see, baby?” You nodded in response, your eyes glued to their crossed arms just barely moving. “Then get going, or we’ll turn the camera off.”

You began to move your hips in a slow back-and-forth motion, hissing and moaning each time the toy hit a spot that one of your girlfriends usually got for you.

“Faster.”

You obeyed immediately, gradually speeding up to a pace that had the bed shaking a bit under your movements, but you couldn’t find it in you to care about the safety of it all when you were this close to the edge. Your climax came faster than you expected and you managed to keep somewhat of a rhythm through it, slumping forward and panting as you came down.

“Again.” You looked to the screen in disbelief, biting your lip when you noticed Wanda’s head thrown back, her hands holding onto Natasha’s arm that seemed to move much faster now. “I didn’t stutter. Fuck yourself again.”

So you did, and another time and another time until you finally tapped out, sliding away from the toy and falling forward onto the bed. You lifted your head to see your fully naked girlfriends smiling at you, each of them a bit flushed from their own activity as they watched you.

“You were such a good girl tonight,” Wanda praised, smiling when you simply whimpered in response. “I can’t wait to get back there and fuck you myself.”

“Goodnight, baby. We love you.”

The call ended as you rolled onto your back to catch your breath for a moment. When your legs were no longer shaking uncontrollably, you stood up the best you could and grabbed the dildo after slipping on a robe, dropping it onto your pile of clothes as you grabbed that too. Once you were back in the shared room and the toy was cleaned, you slipped it into the bag you’d hidden in the closet. You were going to miss sex with them, and something had to take their place.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry @bebe404 @seventeen0 @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @becka107 @muted-stoneheart @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @wannabe-fic-reader @messuhp @mjaudrey @emilyprentisswife @cherrieloco @fayhar @trikruismybitch @sxphiaswitch @beforeoursecrets @want-to-watch-it-burn @just-a-normalpersons @multi-images @witchxaf @natashadeservedmore @haiiiloeee2 @darkangelxoxo @sakurat123

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 2: heading in

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing:  college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, sports au, college au

warnings: swearing

word count: 7k

copyright morkleemelon all rights reserved

"And we can see here in the figure that the data currently suggests-"

Your pen flies across the notebook page, desperately trying to capture everything your economics professor said in multicolor vigor. Jotting down the figure frantically, your eyes dart back and forth between the powerpoint screen and your paper, high ponytail bouncing up and down from the motion.

Being on scholarship means that you can never let your grades fall past a certain point or else they'd give the money to someone else. As harsh as it is, without the financial aid, you would not be able to continue to go to school. One of the only things that motivates you to work harder than your sleeping peers, sometimes, is the looming fear of becoming a jobless dropout, never able to achieve your dreams. 

In a lot of ways, not having money is already bad enough, but the thought of not even being able to earn it in the future is even worse.

"Does anyone know how this company should manage production costs?," your professor asks the crowd of tired students.

You immediately shoot your hand in the air. You know it. This answer was in the textbook reading last night it's-

"Yes" Your professor points behind you.

You slowly set your hand down, disappointed, turning around to see who could've raised their hand before you did.

"They should modernize their marketing efforts with more affordable tools and focus on reducing supply costs," the boy answers expertly.

That's exactly what I was going to say.

Examining his face a little more, something about him seems a little familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on it. Looking around at who he was sitting with, you begin to piece it together.

"He must be one of the Lee's if he's sitting between Ten and Jeno" you ponder to yourself, taking one final look at the boy, "is he... Haechan?". Thinking back to last spring, one of your teammates had a huge crush on the one called 'Haechan'. She always gushed about his fluffy brown hair, handsome face, and how he asked to borrow her biology notes once. You weren't exactly well versed with the university's popular people and honestly, the fact that this school has an 'F4' called "the Lees" is pretty funny to you.

This boy's hair is blonde, though, brushed down into a fringe and slightly messy from, you're assuming, taking off the hood of his sweatshirt before class. Glancing down, you take notice of the mess of white bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

Right, they just had a hockey game. He doesn't have brown hair so this must be-

"That's exactly right, Mark. Nicely done" the professor praises.

Mark. You note the name to yourself, turning back to the board as the professor continues with the lecture.

"Dude she's looking at you," Ten whisper-yells to his younger friend, nudging him sharply in the ribs.

Mark doesn't dare look down at you yet, already feeling his cheeks grow warmer with each passing second. He feels your gaze pull away from him and finally frees the breath he was previously holding captive. Shoving back at the senior boy, his gaze flutters back to you like it usually does during this class, however much to his strong denial. 

You always sit in the first row, colored pens and highlighters arranged neatly upon your favorite desk. 

Mark watches the way your hair bobs back and forth as you move your head with keen eyes. The delicate gold glint of a necklace clasp at the nape of your neck fascinates the junior boy's attention more than the mundane lecture ever could.

Spotting the slight smile on the older boy's face and the direction of his gaze, Jeno laughs quietly to himself, happy that something interesting is finally happening during the boring lesson. Leaning over behind Mark's back, he gives Ten a silent high five.

"You're a simp" Jeno whispers in Mark's ear, eager to provoke him. Mark slaps the blue-haired boy's face away.

"Fuck off," Mark whispers harshly back as Jeno and Ten laugh to themselves in the lecture hall. He habitually glances back to your focused form. And this is nothing short of how class usually goes for them: Mark fawns over you 'secretly' whilst you haven't the slightest clue. On either side, his friends tease him endlessly for it.

"Yuna and I are planning something for you guys," Ten persists.

Mark's eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the older's ominous words. The professor's voice drones on in the background as his attention shifts to Ten.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it, man". Ten smirks, smacking a firm hand on the confused boy's shoulder.

"Don't do anything weird," Mark warns, recalling the time when the senior had planned on starting a fist fight outside of your dorm building last semester in hopes to gain your attention and provide an excuse for Mark to talk to you. Although the thought was there, no it wasn't.

The hour ticks by and exhausted students groan in relief as the professor wraps up the stale lesson on fundamental economics. A mass shuffle of notebook pages flipping closed and backpacks zipping up fills the hall as students make their way out, eager to do anything but be there.

The Lee's always gather for lunch at this time at the basketball courts, attracting an impressive crowd of envious guys and adoring girls at the sidelines. Although the place is fairly beaten down and otherwise unimpressive, the Lee's choose to be there which consequently deems the courts the coolest lunch spot on campus.

Putting his things away into his trusty black Jansport bag, Mark gets ready to head down to the courts to meet up with Haechan like they always do until he feels a hand unexpectedly grip his left shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Some people are gonna join us for lunch today," Ten discloses casually, keeping his gaze forward as the line of students in front of them slowly file their way out of the crowded room.

"Oh, who?" Mark questions. It's not like it's rare for other people come hang out with them, in fact, it's almost always the case. But the fact that Ten is specifically telling him beforehand feels suspicious. Another strong hand grips his other shoulder as Jeno's navy blue hair comes into view.

"Don't worry about it man. You got meal points left for this week? Lend me some," the younger boy expertly diverts.

"Yeah..."

"Let's hurry though, Haechan is probably there waiting already. I told the brat to get food for us early today". Ten ushers Mark forward and pushes his way through the herd of people.

"Aight," Mark sighs in confused defeat, picking up his pace to keep up with the senior. There's definitely something weird going on, but he doesn't have the energy to pry further. 

Then again, has he ever lived a day where his friends aren't doing some sort of weird shit?

"Thank you, professor," you smile and bow politely.

"Thank you, y/n, enjoy the rest of your day," the older man smiles back, waving you off as he packs up his lecture notes. It's small things like this that you always make sure to do to make others' lives a little better.

After all, the best thing to give-better than any monetary gift- is kindness. Right?

Your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your frayed denim shorts and you reach to check the notification.

Der sum hoez in this houz:

Yuna: guys!! Let's grab lunch somewhere new today! :DD

Hope: yassss ;););)

You: oh why? The caf has chicken nuggets today :(

This is definitely suspicious -you, Yuna, and your other friends, Lisa and Hope, always ate together at the round table in the university's better dining hall nicknamed "the caf". It's been your unbroken tradition since freshman year and the lunch lady at the caf even likes you enough to give you extra servings sometimes.

Yuna: we can still have the nuggets but Ten knows a cool place we can sit! He says he already got the food so we don't have to pay today ;)

Free food?

Your inner Mr.Krabs reveals himself as you perk immediately at the mention of her boyfriend paying for lunch. Neither guilt nor modesty had time to catch up as your thumbs rush to type a speedy reply.

You: I'm there. Where at?

Yuna: I'm coming to your classroom rn! We can walk together

Lisa: Hope and I are coming from bio :) excited

You: lol why does everyone know but me

You: is it gonna be weird with us third wheeling you yuna?

You: if y'all start kissy kissy touchy touchy I might puke just saying

Yuna: HAHAHA XD

Yuna: don't worry some of ten's friends might be there too

Oh. To be honest, you're caught off guard at your best friend's last message. Ten has been over to your shared dorm a few times and you've exchanged enough awkward greetings to call him an acquaintance at least. But generally, his friend group and yours stay separate.

Not that there is any actual beef there, but, no pun intended, nobody's tried to break the ice yet.

Closing the group chat as you reach the entrance of the economics building, you hold a hand up to block the glaring rays of summer sun from your eyes. The sudden brightness harshly contrasts the musty dark of the lecture hall, making you squint in discomfort.

"Y/n!" a familiar voice calls out. A flash of platinum blonde hair and Chanel perfume filled your senses as Yuna throws your smaller body into a crushing, sweaty hug.

"EWw!" you yelp, shoving the taller girl away from you half-playfully, catching the attention of a few concerned passer-bys.

You nod your head at them in a shy apology.

Yuna, seriously.

The guilty party laughs, the musical sound travelling through the humid air like a refreshing breeze. Your best friend sticks out her elbow for you to link your arm through.

Eyeing her with short-lived contempt, your lips break into a smile as you slip your forearm around hers, unable to be actually mad at your best friend.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"You'll see. It's Ten's spot"

"Hi-his spot?!" You stop in your tracks, wondering why you were going to eat where Ten dealt weed.

Since when did he deal weed though?

"Not that kind of spot!," Yuna cries out, smacking a manicured hand over the top of her forehead as to not ruin her perfect foundation, "he's not like that!".

"Right good," you scoff.

The summer heat swelters as Yuna leads you down campus towards the sports center. It's early September and Seoul is notoriously hot.

Ice cream vendors with big, striped umbrellas litter the streets, calling out for business from sweaty pedestrians who crave a moment of sweet, cold relief. The sky tints a beautiful shade of blue with fluffy wisps of white clouds dotting its never-ending canvas. No matter how hot the weather is, the day is undeniably beautiful.

You don't ask Yuna more about where you're headed, accepting that your best friend likes to be spontaneous and that her boyfriend was paying for your food. This is more than enough for you to follow her down the sketchy alleyway shortcut to the basketball courts. Sometimes you wonder if you'd be really easy to kidnap...

The alley opens up to reveal a worn-out basketball court planted in the middle of a grassy area. Looking around, you noticed there are quite a few people there, most of them unfamiliar to you.

They scatter across the grass in groups, eating and chatting casually amongst their friends atop their patterned picnic blankets. You catch the gaze of a group of girls sitting at the edge of the court; they eye you up and down, taking you aback with their lack of subtlety.

Breaking the awkward eye-contact, you suddenly feel very out of place.

"Hey!" Yuna calls out, slipping her arm out of yours to wave at a group of people sitting at the other side of the court from the judgmental girls.

Her hand slips into yours, snapping you out of your uncomfortable dilemma, pulling you towards the group she waved to. A big willow tree stretches towards the sky and casts a precious spot of shade over the area. Immediately, you spot Hope and Lisa as they wave to you and you let out a breath of relief.

At least I'm not alone, maybe I won't be so awkward now.

You recognize Ten's face and you give him a smile and nod of acknowledgement. Scanning over the rest of the group carefully, you faintly recognize the other boys sitting under the tree.

The boy with the blue hair and the fitted white tee- that's Jeno.

Fluffy brown hair-definitely Haechan.

Your eyes flit to the next boy and you're taken aback when he's already staring at you. His ashy blonde fringe hair, almost grey, seems dearly familiar. His eyes widen before quickly looking away.

He's part of the Lee's... bandaged hands and that hair- that's Mark, the dude who stole your answer from earlier.

The little devil on your shoulder whispers to hold a small grudge. The little angel on the other argues that it was never your question and you shouldn't be so petty. Right, kindness is the best virtue. You will let it go.

You and Yuna reach the edge of their picnic blanket and your best friend immediately goes to sit by Ten who doesn't hesitate to pull her hips smoothly into his lap.

You look away in embarrassment. Good for her for finding love, but by golly are you painfully single.

Eyeing the space on the picnic blanket, Hope and Lisa are almost strategically sitting at the end chatting with Jeno so there is no reasonable way you could sit next to them. Setting down your bag awkwardly, you debate where you should sit, silently cursing at Hope and Lisa for not leaving a space for you. Maybe coming here was a mistake because you feel kind of left out-

"Oh, here," a small voice lets out. You look up to see Mark getting up and moving his stuff out of the way and clearing a space for you next to him.

"Ah, thank you!" You smile, kneeling down to sit in the empty space.

Thank God.

Glancing at his face, a blush even Maybelline would envy rests on his cheeks as his gaze remains glued to the food in his hands.

The first thing you notice is how handsome he is up close. You didn't get a good look at him in the lecture hall, but his face is a perfect mix of feminine and masculine beauty. His eyes are soft and round, but his jawline sharp and angled. The most chiseled cheekbones you've ever seen are handsomely defined under the mosaic of shadows and light created by the branches of the willow tree. A slight, shy smile graced his delicate, pink lips.

He's super cute. I take back everything I thought in lecture.

"Hey, welcome!," a sudden high-pitched voice rips your attention away from ogling the blonde boy. Turning your face, you see Haechan on your other side eagerly holding out a hand for you to shake. You take his hand and he shakes it vigorously, "I'm Haechan nice to meet you! What's your name?".

"I'm y/n," you reply with a smile. He's really outgoing, huh.

"Y/n what year are you?"

"Oh I'm a sophomore this year"

"Ayyy! Jeno and I are sophomores too," the friendly brunette slaps the other boy on the arm, "say hi, Jeno".

"Hey, I'm Jeno". He gives a heart-fluttering eye-smile and you could hear hushed gasps and coos ensue from the onlooking girls across the court.

"Hi, y/n," you respond shyly.

Dang, these guys are all so good-looking.

You always hear about the 'Lees' and their 'godly' visuals, but you never truly paid attention. Yet now that you're sitting with them at their cool-people-only hangout spot, you have no choice but to admit how exactly spot-on those descriptions were.

"Here, y/n" Haechan hands you a paper tray full of chicken nuggets.

"Nice! Thank you," you cheer, taking the food perhaps a little too excitedly. Working out and training nearly everyday means you're inevitably hungry most of the time. Not to mention, your stomach always rumbles at the sight of your all-time favorite food.

Digging into the free food reward, you turn back to Mark who hasn't said anything to you yet.

"What's your name?" you ask. Technically, you already know it, but you don't really know a better way to start a conversation.

Visibly surprised, Mark chokes on his chicken.

You let out a single note of laughter at his unexpected coughing before slapping a hand over your mouth to stop yourself.

"Are you okay?" you ask stupidly.

"Bruh," Haechan teases with a smirk, amused at his best friend's embarrassment.

Mark nods quickly with a hand covering his mouth as he continues coughing. Unsure of what to do, you reach over to pat him on the back firmly.

"Here, dude". Jeno tosses Mark a filled water bottle, the older boy accepting it gratefully, gulping down the water like his life depends on it (which it... actually does).

Gasping in relief as he sets the bottle down, Mark looks back at you with flushed cheeks and wet lips. You realize your hand is still on his back and you quickly snatch your hand away, suddenly flustered by the contact.

"I'm Mark," he finally answers, voice hoarse from the ordeal.

"Hi Mark, I'm y/n" you giggle.

He looks absolutely hilarious with water dribbling down his chin and cheeks as red as fire. There is something intensely endearing about him as he looks down, front teeth biting down on his bottom lip in embarrassment.

"What year are you?," you continue.

"Uh-I'm a Junior"

"Oh nice! What do you study?"

"Uh-business and sports management"

"Wow! Wait you're In Econ31 right?"

"Yeah I am," Mark smiles.

"I thought I recognized you! I'm in that class too," you exclaim. Usually, you aren't terribly sociable with people you just met, but there's something about the softness of his voice that makes him easy to talk to. That and the way he's just choked on a chicken nugget in front of you at your first meeting- you have little to nothing to lose.

"Oh yeah I-I've seen you around sometimes"

"Yeah we've seen you around sometimes," Ten calls out, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Yuna laughs and hits his chest in warning.

"Shut up!" Mark grabs a nugget from his tray and chucks it at the older boy. Like a slow-motion scene in a movie, Ten catches the piece of chicken between his teeth and flashes a wink back at the flustered junior.

You burst out in laughter at the interaction, slapping a hand onto your knee at the dumbfounded look on Mark's face.

Mark feels his heart clench at the sound of your bright laughter filling the air. You gasp with glee, one hand slapping your knee repeatedly and the other gripping your fork. Truth be told, he is freaking out inside. And this is not how he imagined you would meet. 

All thoughts about Ten abandoned, a wide smile spreads back onto his face as his eyes scan across your laughing form. You sport a casual outfit consisting of a grey t-shirt and denim shorts like you usually do. A simple gold chain hangs from your neck, tucked away under the collar of your shirt. Up close, Mark feels even more drawn to you than ever before.

Beautiful as ever.

"I-I can't breathe," you wheeze, "what just happened?"

"My talent," Ten states, moving his arms from around Yuna's waist to hold them up in a 'well duh' shrug.

"Nah bro, it was a good throw from me," Mark cuts in, holding up a hand to stop the gloating boy.

"Nah bro, it was a good catch from me," Ten sasses back, moving Yuna off his lap to kneel up. You meet Yuna's eyes and you both hold back laughter at the ridiculous argument.

"Nah bro" Mark moves onto his knees as well.

"Nah bro's," Haechan suddenly interjects, "It was me. I have telepathy and I moved the chicken". Haechan promptly stands up and does a body wave, posing with a finger gun pointed over the slope of his nose to his forehead.

You laugh silently between the three boys who are suddenly all standing as they argue over who was responsible for the nugget trick. You had just met these guys a few minutes ago, but you're more confused and intrigued at them than you've ever been with anyone.

Look at you go, making new friends and everything!

"Guys..." Jeno tries, but his low voice isn't nearly loud enough to be heard over the chaos.

The boys point accusing fingers at each other like in a Renaissance painting. You scooch your way over to the other girls to get out of their way, bringing your food with you.

"You're dating..." You gesture your fork at Ten who was is caught in a three-way head lock with Mark and Haechan.

"Yeah". Yuna's face remains expressionless as she nonchalantly pops another piece of chicken into her mouth. After dating Ten for almost five months now, she is well aware of what the expression 'boys will be boys' really means.

"Are they always like this?" Hope asks, bewildered. Lisa just laughs on the side, enjoying the spontaneous fight more than she should. Jeno gives up, laying down to stare at the sky and wonder why his friends are like this.

Click

Your ears perk at  strange noises coming from behind you. Turning around, you notice that several of the girls you saw earlier are now pulling large, fancy cameras out of their book bags. Baffled, you watch incredulously as they shamelessly snap photos of the tussling, oblivious boys.

"What the heck?," you gawk. You haven't been here but twenty minutes and it's already one surprise after the other.

"Tell me about it. Those weirdos are these guys' fans, the 'Lovelees' as they call themselves," Yuna explains, "You would not believe how crazy they can get. Remember when I had to put all my socials on private a few months ago? It's because they found out I was dating Ten".

"Right, I remember that" you nod your head sympathetically. Your eyes move between the unsuspecting boys and the audacious crowd of girls. Maybe you haven't known them for long, but the Lees seem like a regular group of guys. Admittedly, they are above average in the visual department (and in the strange department), but the existence of the Lovelees is really unnerving. Is it just you?

One particular girl at the forefront stares you down intently. Her hair is a mousy brown with two striking streaks of bright red down her bangs in a distasteful take on E-girl style hair. Too-light foundation is packed onto her skin and you winced internally at the severe creasing by her nose. Black eyebrows not matching her hair, her fake eyelashes bat at you threateningly.

"What's up with her?". You are genuinely confused. Why does she look like she wants to murder you?

"She's so scary," Hope's eyebrows knit in worry.

"Yeah, what's with her? She's staring at y/n," Lisa suddenly adds, attention turning to the concerning conversation.

"That's Hillary, the club president or something," Yuna confirms with a shudder, "she's super psycho about Mark. Definitely stay away from her".

"Gotcha... but why is she looking at me like that? Is it just me?"

Hillary's creepy stare never leaves your face and you feel chills run down your spine like a thousand invisible spiders. Generally speaking, you sometimes shy from even ordering food over the phone. Being under her flaming gaze makes you want to shrivel up like a raisin.

If someone could write a story about Seoul University campus life, you'd for sure be a background character. Attracting negative attention to yourself for no reason is surely a new feeling and unequivocally uncomfortable... perhaps because there is any attention on you at all?

"Well for one," Yuna smiles, poking an accusing finger into your side, "you seem to be getting along with these guys pretty well. Especially Mark". The blonde wiggles her perfectly threaded brows at you. Flustered, you shove a nugget in her mouth before she could say more.

"What are you even talking about, we literally just met". You fight to keep your voice steady and expression unaffected, but alas you can't stop the heat from spreading onto your unwilling cheeks. Admittedly, it's been a while since you've gone out with a guy. More honestly, you haven't really dated anyone since you came to campus last year. So needless to say, your single self is a little bit flustered to be thrown into the notion that you even have a chance to be with a super popular, charming guy like Mark.

You shake your head to clear the ridiculous thoughts.

Let's not err on the side of desperation today.

Peering back at the crazy fangirl who you now know as Hillary, you're relieved to find her piercing gaze has shifted from boring holes in your skull to her cell phone and she types away at lightning speed.

"I have a feeling that he likes you, y/n," Yuna presses. Hope and Lisa giggle and nod in agreement, exchanging knowing glances at each other. 

You don't have ample time to ponder more as your attention is ripped away by the fighting boys. They've shifted from the shade of the willow tree to the basketball court, disregarding all onlookers and fighting like their lives depended on it.

"Let's go. Rooftop. Right now!" Haechan screeches, taking a leap at Ten while Mark struggles to hold him back.

"Fight me here, bro," Ten taunts, "we all know I'm built different". The sass in his voice gives Haechan the strength to break away from Mark's grasp and tackle the senior boy. All eyes glue to the two boys rolling around on the hot pavement, screaming.

"Yuna, can you-" Jeno starts, eyes closed as he lay on the blanket listening to his friends beat each other up.

"Yeah," Yuna gives the tired boy an apologetic pat on the knee. "Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul".

Her boyfriend's entire body immediately freezes at the sound of his full name. Letting Haechan go from his chokehold, Ten scurries back over to his spot on the picnic blanket to kneel by an unamused Yuna like a scolded dog. "I'm sorry".

You suppress another laugh. This... this is what the cool kids are like? You were really nervous for nothing. Mark shuffles back next to you, supporting a limping Haechan who insists he's fine.

"Sorry girls. They're not... actually no, they are usually like this," Jeno apologizes, "Hope we didn't scare you away".

"No, actually. I think you guys are really... funny. It's cool how comfortable you all are". You smile at the hockey players. Weird as they may be, you don't feel uncomfortable.

"She thinks you're cool!" Haechan cries, slapping Mark on the back.

"Shut up!" Mark smacks the back of the younger's head, ready for another fight already.

"But don't you guys think it's weird we haven't met earlier? We always see the hockey team around our practices but I think this is our first time officially talking," Hope suddenly points out the elephant in the room.

"Yeah I guess that's true," Haechan ponders, "to be honest, we didn't think you guys liked us very much... or let me rephrase that- we were kinda scared to approach you".

"YOU were scared to approach US," Lisa exclaims in shock, "did you forget that you four are, like, the most popular guys on campus or what?".

The four boys look amongst each other blankly. "No, but we thought...," Haechan starts.

"... that figure skaters hated hockey players," Mark finishes. Silent glances are exchanged between all parties as this new information is revealed.

At the sheer awkwardness of the situation, you decide to interrupt the silence with light laughter. "Why would we hate you?"

"You- agh," Haechan's reasoning is cut off by a sharp jab to the ribs from Mark. No way is he going to let the blabbermouth sophomore spoil that they stalked your Facebook last year and found your post.

"I mean you all seem really cool and," Mark saves, looking at you, "I'm really glad we got to meet you today. But we were just... intimidated before".

You raise an eyebrow and your eyes meet Yuna's, Hope's, and Lisa's who shared similar expressions.

"Babe, I'm intimidating?" Yuna asks her boyfriend, peering into his eyes. Ten promptly places a hand at the back of her neck and brings her in for a deep kiss. Everyone in the group groans in disapproval and you hope the sour expression on your face isn't too obvious. Why, Ten. Why.

"Uh.. ok then," you divert, "I was never a fan of hockey itself, to be frank. The sport, not the team. And maybe I've been annoyed at you guys for hogging the ice sometimes, but I've never ever hated you! Don't worry haha".

"Bro what?!" Haechan cries, "hockey is the greatest sport of all time! It's all about strategy, speed, strength, and skills. If anything, figure skating doesn't have a point".

You gasp in full-offense. Sure, you just gave your honest opinion on their sport and it was only fair that they give theirs, but that one burns. Before you can make your counterargument, the boy next to you beats you to it.

Tapping the back of his hand to Haechan's arm, Mark's next words made your heart skip a beat: "dude, you don't know what you're talking about," he turned to look into your eyes, "it's beautiful".

Mark's eyes are a deep brown color, you notice, and they sparkle gold in the light streaming past the branches of the willow tree. Softly, they peer into yours, bringing with them a rare kindness that pinches at your chest.

"Thank you" you smile at him. Is your face always this warm?

"Okayyy," Jeno finally opts to sit up, "now that we've determined that we don't hate each other and we're all cool, are we good to be friends?". A chorus of "Heck yeah"'s and "duh"'s filled the picnic area and your heart swells with happiness. You look back at Mark and smiled again.

New friends

"You should come eat with us here more often," Mark suggests to you, warm gaze making your heart strain for the hundredth time that afternoon. What is happening? "All of you should," he corrects, looking away shyly.

"Yeah we're here everyday," Ten adds. Looking down to Yuna who had laid her head in his lap, he stroked her hair lovingly. "You should come hang out with us whenever".

"I'd like that," you grin.

"Let's make a group chat. Everyone gimme your numbers," Haechan declares.

While the brunette went around collecting numbers, you chatted with Mark, wanting to get to know him more. You quickly find that he's so very endearing, blushing and fiddling with the bandages on his fingers at your every word. His words are kind and he listens to you thoughtfully when you speak. Talking to him is so easy, surprisingly easy, and you feel the conversation unfold out effortlessly. You hardly notice as the minutes of your lunch break tick to an end.

"That's crazy! There was this one time that-" the jarring sound of your phone alarm cuts you off. Scrambling for your phone, you tap on the screen desperately to shut it off.

"Sorry guys," you apologize, "Lisa, oh my goodness, it's time for us to go to Frankie's".

Lisa checks her own watch and gasps, "Oh gosh! We gotta go guys".

"Who's Frankie?" Mark questions, eyes slightly crestfallen.

"No," you laugh while picking up your bag, "Frankie's. The diner down the street next to the lake. We work there".

Haechan, Ten, and Jeno crack up silently at their sensitive friend. 

"It was nice meeting you all!" you exclaim, "It was nice meeting you, Mark".

"Great meeting you, y/n. Hope to see you around," he waves back at you.

Bidding their goodbyes, you and Lisa make your way down the alley to her parked car.

"Y/n don't you think Mark is super into you?" Lisa says excitedly once the others are out of earshot.

"What are you saying!?" you proclaim, looking back to make sure the Lovelees aren't following you. Seeing the coast is clear, you consider your friend's accusation. So much has happened in the last 2 hours than in your year and a month at college, or your entire life honestly. 

You walked into the alley with no guy friends and are leaving with four. Is it greedy to say that Mark really does stand out to you and you might be starting to like him, or are you just like every other girl who likes him too? The last thing you want is to be like Hillary.

"He's probably just friendly to everyone," you decide.

"No way, y/n, you good in the head? This dude only looking at you the whole time," Lisa retorts.

You shake your head in denial but thinking back, it could be true.

There it is again. That nervous, light feeling in your chest.

Oh, God. What if I like him?

Mark flops down on his bed, still not down from the high that he's been on all day. No, not that kind of high. Smile plastered on his face, he runs his fingers through his freshly washed hair, recounting your conversations from earlier.

"Dude, you look so stupid," Jeno walks into their shared room, shirtless from just getting out of the shower. A simple white towel wrapped around his lean torso is the only thing censoring the spectacular scene. Messing his hair with a second towel, he chucks the wet fabric at Mark's face.

"Fuck off," Mark swings it back at the sophomore. This year, he chose to live in a suit with the rest of the guys to save some money. Him and Jeno shared a room while Ten and Haechan occupied the other. It's undeniably small and only has one bathroom, but he is grateful he at least doesn't have to room with Haechan anymore.

Mark's phone buzzes with a notification on his nightstand. Propping himself up with his elbow, he checks to see who it's from.

1 new message from unknown

Mark sighs. If it's these crazy girls again he's going to get really annoyed. Today was a really good day and the last thing he wants is another stranger asking him to father her children. 

Maybe: Yuna?: hey mark, it's Yuna. I got your number from the group chat! If you're not too busy I'd love to talk to you about a few things

Oh crap.

Suddenly nervous, Mark scrambles to sit up properly.

"Text from your new girlfriend?," Jeno taunts unknowingly.

"No, dickhead, it's Yuna," Mark rebuts, thinking hard about a good, casual reply.

"Oh, shit," Jeno states, taken aback. The sophomore swaggers onto his own bed, now sporting a pair of grey sweatpants and a fitted white t-shirt. The bare minimum makes him look like a poster boy every magazine photographer would clamber for. The man could put all models out of work if he had the heart for it. Fortunately, he only has the heart for hockey, video games, and pizza.

Mark: Hey Yuna! What's up?

Yuna: Hey :) nothing much! Not to freak you out, but I know all about your crush on y/n from Ten

Mark: ahaha... yeah I figured

Yuna: ok, so as her best friend and someone who cares about her a lot I just wanna put a few things out there

Yuna: is typing...

Mark watched as the three dots of the impending message taunted him. What could she be talking about? What if you have a boyfriend and Yuna's telling you to back off?

Yuna: if you're going to get close with her, you gotta make sure you keep her safe from those crazy fangirls. Y/N is a shy and sensitive girl she'll definitely take the hate to heart and if Hillary and those other crazy bitches come after her, I won't let you live

Hillary? Mark wracks his brain for any memory of a girl with that name. That girl from calc? No, that's Helen. Hillary...

An image of a mousy girl with red bangs comes into his mind. Ah yes, that's Hillary. She sends him love tweets and gave him chocolates for Valentine's Day.

Mark: I barely know Hillary and I'm pretty sure I've told her I'm not into her, but i'll make sure she knows. Yuna I'm serious about y/n

Yuna: as you should be! She's a real diamond in the rough and she's never confident in herself. All she does is work and study and practice. She never does anything for herself but she never complains either. Also, I don't wanna butt in too much, but I gotta you ask one thing

Mark: yeah ask away!

Yuna: y/n says today is the first time she met you but Ten says you've "been simping for like a year". Add it up for me?

Mark: It's kind of hard to explain... it like... do you believe in love at first sight?

Yuna: HA!!! You're too cute omg

Mark: It's like that but I never had the chance to talk to her... it never seemed right idk

Yuna: boy

Yuna: I had to force y/n to go to your game with me and Ten had to bribe Haechan to set up the picnic today early

Yuna: not to mention we made Hope and Jeno sit together even though they're both awkward just so y/n would have to sit next to you. you better make ur fucking move now

Mark curls his fingers into his blow-dried hair, letting out a low, stressed groan. He's gonna owe the guys big time.

Mark: I really appreciate it! :)))

Yuna: oh and one more thing

Mark: yeah?

Yuna: If you hurt her, I will gouge out your eyeballs and stick them up your ass and while you cry, I'll force feed you your own severed balls until you choke and die. Got it? :D

Holy fuck.

Mark: understood

Yuna: Yay!!! Approved :) good night mark! Nice getting to know you today!

Mark: same here. Night!

Mark's thumbs shake as he types out his final message. So this is what your friends are like, huh? It's such a contrast to your easy-going attitude. A smile spreads across his lips at the thought of you again.

Stretching up to shut off the lamp on his night stand, Mark tucks himself into bed. It's finally happening. You're here. You're right within his grasp. And he wants nothing more than to give you everything you need.

Mark contemplates Yuna's messages as he lay there in the dark; she said you aren't confident in yourself. This comes as a surprise to him. You're so beautiful, smart, kind, funny, and talented, the last thing he expected was that you didn't know it. You exude put-togetherness and wear elegance like a favorite sweater.

His eyes squeeze shut as Mark replays the first night he saw you in his mind. The image is engraved in his brain as he must have revisited that unintentional performance a thousand times.

This whole time, he never got to know you, but today he dipped his hand in the water. And he wanted so much more, to dive in completely and surround himself with you. All this time, he's only been on the sidelines.

I want her so bad

It's time to stop waiting around and get in the game. He's going to talk to you, walk you to class, make you feel special. So much time has already been wasted due to his own fears and misunderstandings. If it's confidence you need, it's confidence he will give you.

Wait for me, y/n, I'm gonna do it right this time

previous || m.list || next 

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 14)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 6039 Warnings: fluff, light angst, mentions of cheating

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Major cringe warning everyone.. I can’t wait for your reactions! 😂 A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated! 

PART 13 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Bucky pulls off his headphones, pressing a finger to the keyboard to stop the music he’s reviewing, taking a moment to pinch between his brows. He gets up to stretch his legs, grabbing the empty beer bottle along with him for the short walk to the kitchen. He tosses it in the garbage with the rest.

He doesn’t like drinking this much but lately he hasn’t been feeling great. His music has been stagnant, devoid of life and energy. Thinking about it only makes him feel worse, a painful reminder that deadlines are coming up and what little he’s created is absolute shit.

The knob squeaks as he turns the faucet, letting the water turn to liquid ice before he runs his hands through them, splashing it up against his face. He hears the hiss of the pipes next door and his heart sinks.

It’s Y/N’s shower. He looks towards the wall wondering if she’s alone, quickly shaking the thoughts out of his mind. He shouldn’t care if she’s alone or not. She’s in a relationship and it shouldn’t matter.

Bucky tried really hard to not think about her. He promised himself he would get out there and find someone and well, it hasn’t exactly worked out. In the last three weeks he’s been on a dozen dates. Most of the girls could barely hold a conversation, while the others were less exciting than watching paint dry.

He fucked a few of them even though he said he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the point of these dates but Bucky needed the distraction. It was hard hanging out with everyone, it didn’t matter if Y/N was there with Billy or if they were not; Bucky wasn’t sure what was worse.

Over the last few days he has been messaging someone new who’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping him entertained. Bobbi, she works at a gym Uptown. She’s worked extremely hard for her body and flaunts it in most of her photos and sure, Bucky would love to hit it but there’s something more that keeps him drawn in.

She’s so direct, talking to him as if they had known each other for years. He loves checking his phone to see her latest message, a smile already stretching across his face when he sees a long text about something that happened at the gym. Apparently a lot of characters workout there and she has an endless list of horror stories she couldn’t wait to share with him.

They planned a date for the end of the week and Bucky was very excited to finally meet her. It was promising, the idea that he could be happy with someone just like… just like everyone else.

You hug yourself a little tighter as you walk down the block, feeling the cool breeze move right through you. Billy seems to be in his own world, his head gazing down to his phone as it had been through most of dinner. You didn’t voice your annoyance though because it would only make things worse.

Billy’s been in a bad mood ever since the Feds came knocking at ANVIL’s door. A few former employees were recently involved in a string of armed robberies and Billy was questioned about it. Word got out and he lost a big account as a result.

Obviously the situation is upsetting but it’s not just that, Billy’s been distant lately. You’ve been spending a lot of time together but maybe that’s the problem, the honeymoon period might be over. You know it’s a normal part of any relationship but the idea that things could change so drastically doesn’t make you feel great.

“Hey watch where you’re going,” an unfamiliar voice barked.

Your head turned quickly to find Billy getting in the face of the stranger he apparently bumped into.

“What did you say to me?” Billy’s dark eyes sharpened like a bird of prey closing in on its target. His nostrils flared as he snarled, staring down the other man until he backed away with his tail between his legs. Billy looked him up and down, a smug smile creeping across his face in silent victory.

A heavy arm fell around your shoulders as Billy pulled you closer to him when he began walking away.

“What the hell was that?” you asked after a long beat of silence.

He faced you with the same incredulity he gave the man before. “That was people knowing better than to get in my way.”

Your stomach churned with unease and that silent alarm inside you was going off. You needed to get away from Billy, for tonight at least. By the time you got to the front of your building you figured out an excuse you hoped would work.

“Hey so, I promised Elena I would head in early tomorrow. Paperwork’s been piling up and medical records have been on our case about it. So, can we raincheck this?” You smiled, using your best doe eyes to seem sincere about it.

Billy stared you down, looking for the slightest crack in your expression. It was something he had always done, reading people, checking for lies. You know it’s a product of his upbringing, with so many broken promises made by a faulty system.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s fine,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember I got us Knicks tickets.”

You nodded in agreement, gasping slightly when he caught you off guard by his kiss. It was the last thing on your mind but you gave in, opening your mouth to his forceful tongue. Anything to keep up appearances, for tonight.

Billy watched you enter the building and you waved back at him right before you disappeared for the hallway, finally able to take a breath. On the way up to your floor you wondered if you should talk to Wanda about what happened. It was kind of late though and even though she would want to hear everything about it you didn’t want to disturb her.

As you approached your door you looked towards Bucky’s. Maybe he could give some advice from the male perspective. Then again you didn’t want to bother him either. Bucky’s also been pretty distant lately and you’ve barely seen him in the past month. Maybe everything’s changed, your relationship, your friendships. Change is supposed to be good but this felt all wrong.

You couldn’t find a comfortable spot on your bed, tossing and turning, kicking off the covers, pulling them back up again. Nothing seemed right. There was too much on your mind and you couldn’t relax.

“Shut up brain, just shut up!” you begged out loud, grabbing your phone to find something to distract yourself.

Scrolling through your playlists you tried to find one that wouldn’t give you the urge to stay up and sing along, and then you stopped on the perfect one. It was Bucky’s playlist, Greatest Cinema Scores. Grabbing your headphones you laid your head back on the pillow as John Williams carried you to dreamland.

You groan, rolling over to one side. It’s still dark out. You don’t want to look at your phone but you give in anyway. Two in the morning. At least you still had a few more hours of sleep. Your stomach spasms forcing you to get up, hurrying your paces to the bathroom because the weird rumbling has you convinced you might not make it in time.

It’s five past two in the morning when all hell breaks loose. Hell translating to everything you’ve eaten this evening coming up and out of you from both ends. It’s not pretty. Tears are streaming down your face as you puke into the garbage can you’re rapidly filling, trying to catch your breath in between painful heaves. The other end isn’t much better, hot liquid expelling itself from your body; stomach cramps, body spasms all doing their part to add to the mess.

Ten minutes pass by the time it’s safe to leave the bathroom. Your throat burns with the remnants of vomit, your ass is on fire and you curl back into bed, brushing aside the tears from the corner of your eyes. Your reprieve is short lived as your stomach grumbles again and you rush across your apartment, giving yourself over to the porcelain throne.

More comes out of you than you’ve taken in and you wonder about the science of it all. When will it stop? Dinner was simple, a glass of wine, a small house salad, chicken parm and some vegetables that come out whole as you peer into the soupy garbage held out in front of you. A whiff of the stench makes you gag again setting off another round of vomiting.

Everything hurts. Tears burn hot against your skin as you cry alone, half naked and in need of a shower at this point to clean yourself up. Elvis died on the toilet, is that how you’re gonna go too? It seems entirely possible at this point.

By the time the sun begins to peak out through the large buildings you’ve exhausted your body of all its worth. You’re shaking as you change into clean pajamas, crawling back into bed, barely having the strength to raise your phone to your ear as you leave a message for Elena, telling her you won’t be able to make it in today.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, not when you’re still getting out of bed every hour to get rid of every part of your insides. Isn’t it out of you already? You think back to dinner and the slightly pink chicken you thought at the time was your imagination or bad lighting. Dammit.

You text Billy, telling him you have food poisoning, hoping his seafood and linguine didn’t leave him in the same position you were currently in. After the hundredth trip to the bathroom you opened up your fridge looking for something. You squirm as you look at the orange juice, however tempting it is the acid would probably burn through you. Your mouth waters looking at the forbidden food, aka anything that isn’t a plain cracker. Do you have any of those? Nope. How is it possible you don’t have a single thing you could possibly eat?

The trek across your apartment and back to your bed seems like it went on for miles and now you shake with chills, wrapping yourself up in the blanket as you text Wanda begging for her to come over with Gatorade, ginger ale and crackers.

You whimper out loud as you feel your stomach gurgling, it wants another round versus the toilet where you’re going to lose. By the time you come out again you’re sweating, shaking on weak legs as you cry yourself to sleep.

In another hour you’ve woken up, thankful for the returned text that she would come by before heading to work. After your latest round in the bathroom you trudge to the front door unlocking it, and move to your couch where you plop face down. You text Wanda, telling her the door is open, and try to shut your eyes until the inevitable happens. Because you know it’s going to happen again. For some reason you’ve been cursed and there’s nothing you can do about it but suffer.

You aren’t sure of how much time has passed but you hear your door opening, bags rustling in hand and the tiniest smile spreads across your face.

“Wandaaa, my butthole hurts,” you whined, lifting your head up off the couch slightly to groan even more. “It’s like a volcano that’s erupting hot brown lava. There’s so much of it Wan. It won’t stop. My ass is vomiting shit.”

“Wow Y/N, that’s quite a visual.”

Oh no. Panic surges through you when you realize that was not Wanda’s voice. A weak arm pushes you up from the couch where you turn around to find Bucky somehow looking at you in the eye after he heard your very blunt confession.

You’re stunned into silence, not knowing what to say because you had just said far too much than you ever wanted to. Suddenly you feel nauseous again but for a different reason.

Bucky shifted one of the bags he was holding into his other hand so he could send a small wave in your direction, trying not to burst out laughing as he said, “Hey neighbor.”

“B-Bucky, what are you doing here?” you asked, sinking back down onto the couch because you couldn’t support yourself anymore.

“Wanda texted me, said she wasn’t able to get these to you before work.” He set the bags down, walking closer to you and crouching down by the couch. “Are you okay?”

Your head shook a little before you answered. “No. I think I’m dying. I’m puking up my organs.”

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” he chuckled.

“My intestines, definitely my stomach… maybe a kidney or two.”

He cracked a beautiful smile that somehow made you feel better just by looking at it. Bucky reached the back of his hand out to feel your forehead. You were a little warm but you didn’t feel feverish.

“Well I’m here now and I brought all the good stuff you need. Will you let me help you?”

Tears filled your eyes as you replied, and Bucky smiled again. He emptied the bags in your kitchen, taking out a bottle of ginger ale, Gatorade, crackers and some instant white rice.

“How about a little ginger ale to settle your stomach, yeah?”

Bucky brought over a glass that was less than half filled. Sitting next to you, he helped you sit up and you waited for the room to stop spinning before you took a few small sips as he told you to. Your hand was shaking and Bucky took the glass from you before you spilled it.

You didn’t think a few sips of ginger ale would be a magical cure but you wished it would. You felt so shitty… which seemed fitting, but it really wasn’t funny. You leaned against Bucky, closing your eyes as you sighed in frustration. It was comforting to feel his arm around you, and hear his whispers that everything would be okay.

“Are you nauseous? Do you need to…”

“I just don’t feel good,” you cried against him.

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, wishing there was something more he could do for you. When Wanda texted him he had shot right up, threw on clothes and raced to the store. He wished you had asked him, that you were as close as you used to be but he understands why you might not have wanted him to know.

The briefest thought about Billy crosses his mind. Did you tell him? Was he going to come in and take care of you? Would you shove Bucky aside if he did? But Billy isn’t here, and Billy isn’t important. Right now this is about you and doing whatever he can to help.

“Hey doll, do you want to try and eat something?”

You barely process the nickname as you think about how your stomach is feeling. It’s still too early to try and eat so instead you ask for some Gatorade, hoping that might make you feel a little better.

Bucky brings it back, along with a wet washcloth he places on your neck, feeling your skin prickle at his touch as he moves aside the collar of your shirt. It’s a nice relief for the short while it lasts. You head back to the bathroom again but at least you didn’t vomit this time. You’re thankful since you’re really not sure you have the strength to even handle throwing up anymore.

Back on the couch you lay your head down on Bucky’s thigh, curling your body into a fetal position as he lays a throw blanket over you. You don’t realize when you’ve fallen asleep but you wake up at some time later to find the sky is lit in a golden glow of the afternoon sun. Bucky assists you with sitting up, helping you quell the dizziness with more sips of Gatorade and ginger ale.

You feel brave enough to eat, hoping that one single cracker will not send you back on the hell ride through your digestive tract. Bucky can’t help but smile as you nibble on the cracker slowly like a hamster.

“What did you eat that got you sick?” he wondered.

“New Italian place on 23rd and 8th. Bad chicken. I mean, I thought it was good at the time but I don’t think I’ll be going back again.”

“Good to know. I’m gonna cancel my plans tonight,” he said, digging his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah, definitely go somewhere else.”

“No, I’m cancelling the whole date.”

Your head spun as you turned it too fast to face Bucky. “You have a date tonight?”

His head shook before he began speaking. “Nope, not anymore. I want to stay here and take care of you.” You began to protest but Bucky insisted. “Y/N, I really want to do this. Please, let me help you.”

The fluttering in your stomach made you wonder if you needed to rush to the bathroom again but it didn’t feel the same as before. Instead you smiled softly, thankful to have Bucky’s kindness. It was nice to know someone wanted to take care of you.

In the moment you scanned the table for your phone, remembering the text you sent out this morning. Billy still hadn’t replied. Maybe he’s sick too or maybe… well you don’t have the energy to think otherwise at the moment.

Your mouth is watering, craving anything and everything that you can’t have. Even the drinks have to be sipped slowly otherwise you’ll set your stomach off again. It’s so unfair. Why is this happening? And why is every commercial food related?

“Bucky, can you change the channel?” you begged.

He switched it to a show about animals, that’s fine, that’s… not fine. The TV shows a raccoon eating delicious red grapes and you feel the tears begin to flood your eyes. You huff against Bucky’s leg, not bothering to change the channel because there was no point. You couldn’t eat and you probably never will again. Was that being dramatic? Maybe, but right now you’re not in the mood to think sensibly.

“I feel bad askin’ but is it okay if I order food? I know you can’t have any and I really don’t want to make this worse for ya.”

Bucky is staring at you with big blue eyes, hoping his small request isn’t too much of an offence at the moment. You almost wanted to say no but you couldn’t, it’s not Bucky’s fault you ate bad chicken.

“Pizza? Really?” you whined after he placed his order.

His eyes grew big with panic and he was about to call back and cancel his order before you stopped him.

“No, no. I’m sorry Bucky. It doesn’t matter what you eat, I’m gonna want everything so enjoy yourself.”

You pouted, grabbing the throw blanket to pull it over your shoulder as you adjusted your position of resting on his leg, shutting your eyes until he got up to answer the door when the pizza arrived.

“That smells really good,” you said, frowning as Bucky opened the box.

He was hesitant to take a bite, feeling guilty as you looked at him. “Can I make you anything? Think you could handle some rice?”

Your head shook and you took out another single cracker, chewing on it slowly as Bucky sat down beside you with a few slices.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. And when you’re up for it let’s get pizza. We still haven’t kept our promise.” Bucky’s mouth dropped open in response to your confused face. “Our pizza quest! Remember? Eat our way through the city to find the best pizza!”

“Oh yeah!” You smiled for the first time, bright and beaming across your face and Bucky was happy he was able to bring that out in you. “We definitely have to do that.”

The night continued with Bucky putting on Galaxy Quest for you both to watch. Halfway through the movie you went back to the bathroom, missing a call from Billy. Bucky couldn’t help but look over as your phone buzzed, seeing a picture of you and Billy smiling together.

A moment later a text came through and he knew he shouldn’t read it but he couldn’t help himself. Bucky looked towards the bathroom to check that you weren’t about to come out before he grabbed your phone, reading Billy’s text.

Billy: Wtf Y/N where are you? Did you remember the basketball game?

Bucky placed your phone back on the coffee table, remembering to unclench his jaw as your bathroom door opened. What an asshole. He didn’t even ask how you were.

“Your phone rang,” Bucky reluctantly said as you sat down again.

He watched as you read the text, typing back furiously. Another buzz and you were responding to Billy again, your face getting angrier the longer the back and forth messaging went on.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” you said, tossing your phone on the table. “Let’s put the movie on.”

You got comfortable against Bucky, ignoring the buzz of your phone. The texts didn’t stop coming in and you tried your best to ignore it and pay attention to the movie but Bucky could clearly see you were upset.

“You can answer that if you need to.”

“I really don’t want to. Billy’s so concerned about wasting money on tickets, not once has he even mentioned the fact that I’m sick. Did he not get my messages?”

Bucky bit his tongue, not wanting to say something he might end up regretting, especially if this isn’t the end of you and Billy like he hoped. Why would he hope that? He’s dating now. Or at least he thought he was.

He cancelled his date with Bobbi tonight without hesitation, just so he could take care of you. She seemed cool about it, asking if he was free tomorrow and Bucky agreed to another date but the longer you stay curled up beside him the less interest he has in wanting to see anyone.

The warmth of your body against his lulled Bucky into a deep sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable, slumped on the couch in a mostly sitting position but he didn’t want to move, not when you had fallen asleep before him. You were exhausted from everything you went through so your sleep was more important to him than the cramp that developed in his neck overnight.

You woke up, slowly opening your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them as you realized you weren’t in your bed but on the couch resting your head against Bucky. You watched the rise and fall of his stomach through the soft sweater he wore, the one that most certainly left tiny marks on your cheek from leaning against it.

Looking up at Bucky you smiled at the way his head was tilted to the side, eyes shut peacefully as small puffs of breath left his mouth. You thought about everything Bucky had done for you, what was supposed to be a simple task of dropping off ginger ale and crackers turned into his whole day being rearranged just to take care of you.

You wanted to do something nice for him in return, it’s something you’ll have to think about when your head’s not as light as it feels. Slowly you begin to sit up, taking a few sips of Gatorade from the bottle that was left on the table. You feel… better but still not great.

It’s daring but you aim to eat two crackers, hoping it won’t set off your stomach. It was grumbling with hunger but you knew better than to give in with actual food even though you were craving pancakes.

After sitting up for a while you didn’t think you felt dizzy anymore so you got up slowly. You felt the weakness in your legs as they carried you across the room but at least your trip to the bathroom was normal. A regular pee was a lot better than everything else that came out of you yesterday.

“G’morning,” Bucky said mid-yawn as you opened the door, seeing his sweater rise up to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach as he stretched his arms out.

“Morning Bucky.” You smiled as you made your way beside him again, reaching your arm across his stomach as you settled back against him, nuzzling your head on his chest.

Bucky loved this but absolutely hated that he needed to use the bathroom and therefore ruin the way you cuddled up against him. “I’m sorry doll. I’ll be quick,” he said, rushing up off the couch.

Doll. You liked that nickname. It was a little on the old fashioned side but it was endearing. Billy called you babe which was fine and all but it definitely didn’t have the same effect as doll. The thought of Billy made you roll your eyes. You would have to speak to him today but you really didn’t want to.

“Alright, where were we?”

Bucky’s voice rang out as he opened the door, walking back towards the couch. He moved his neck from side to side to crack it before he sat down again, letting you cozy up to him.

“How’re you feelin’ today?”

“Better. I think I might try some rice later.”

“Just let me know and I’ll make it.” There was no hesitation in his offer, just pure tenderness in wanting you to get better.

The morning was spent cuddling on the couch until Bucky’s stomach began grumbling worse than yours. He got up to make himself something while you insisted you weren’t ready for anything more than crackers and ginger ale yet.

“I’m gonna take your garbage out and head home for a quick shower. You think you’ll be okay? I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks Bucky.”

He was thankful you didn’t tell him not to come back. You seemed much better than yesterday and you probably didn’t need him but Bucky really didn’t want to leave. Sure he had work to do but this was more important. He wouldn’t have been able to get you off his mind anyway so he might as well be useful.

During Bucky’s absence you debated talking to Billy, knowing it would probably end up in a fight but you didn’t have the strength to do that yet. Besides, you hadn’t done anything wrong so there is no need for you to be chasing him down.

With the little energy you had you decided to freshen up. While splashing your face with some water you noticed the broken blood vessels in your eyes, the result of straining so much to throw up. Fun stuff.

It was a bit of a struggle to get undressed and changed into new pajamas and you had to lay down in your bed before the room stopped spinning. Thankfully Bucky had come back and was able to help you.

He handed the glass of Gatorade to you, rubbing slow circles of comfort on your back that seemed so natural for him.

“You need to eat something Y/N. Think you’re up for some rice now?” he asked softly, gazing at you with concern as he awaited your answer. You gave a simple nod and Bucky leapt up to get it started.

The burn of tears rushed to your eyes as you thought about Bucky. He was so eager to make sure you were okay, taking out your garbage that was filled with various bags full of vomit without hesitation, spending every minute of his weekend just to take care of you. He even cancelled a date.

Something inside your stomach twisted at the thought of Bucky actually dating someone. It’s not like him sleeping with someone was a surprise to you but apparently in the last month you’ve drifted apart from him, unaware he had started to date people instead of just sleeping with them. You’re not so sure why this makes you feel so… well, you’re not really sure how you feel about it but you know you feel something.

None of this should matter though. You have been dating someone for two months. Someone you thought you loved but this past weekend has taught you a lot about Billy. Not only has his change in demeanor put you off but the fact that he hasn’t shown any concern for you over this weekend really makes you want to end your relationship.

Bucky happily brought over a small bowl of white rice. There wasn’t much in there to begin with but you could only manage a few teaspoons before you had to stop. The worst part of it all is that you were so hungry but you really couldn’t eat much, and certainly couldn’t chance upsetting your stomach anymore no matter how badly you wanted to shovel the rice down your mouth.

The afternoon was spent on your couch again, cuddled up against Bucky as you continued to watch movies. His arm was around your shoulder and occasionally you felt his hand rub up and down over the curve of your arm. You smiled against him, letting yourself enjoy however long you could have Bucky like this.

In the back of your mind you thought about him dating again. Whoever he ends up with would be the luckiest girl ever, to have someone as kind and caring as Bucky take care of them as he has been with you. You chew on your bottom lip remembering the shared kiss on New Year’s Eve. Yeah, it was safe to say you would be completely jealous of any girl that ends up with him.

While attempting to have a little more rice you watched Bucky respond to his phone that had gone off a few times. It was hard not to glance over at him, imagining what pretty girl he was probably talking to.

What you didn’t know was Bucky was talking to a girl, Bobbi, cancelling the plans they had rescheduled for today. He didn’t bother to reschedule again and Bucky knew it was stupid not to but somehow the weekend he’s spent on your couch made him lose all enthusiasm for dating someone. Logic tried to reason with him, remind him that you were in a relationship but it was hard to deny the way he felt about you, how he’s been feeling for a long time now.

Bucky can’t stop staring at you, watching as you finish up the rice from earlier. He’s hated seeing you in pain but being able to help you this weekend has been such an honor.

As the sun set you realized you were not at all prepared to go back to work tomorrow. You probably could use another day off but since you weren’t throwing up anymore you wanted to at least give it a shot. Besides, Tony had been relying on you a lot recently with the logistics of getting The September Foundation prepared and you didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

“I need to take a shower.” As you stood up you felt a little dizzy and Bucky had his arms around you just in case. After a moment of a few deep breaths you felt a little better. “I’m okay,” you assured him.

Bucky didn’t quite believe that so he poured more Gatorade and handed you the glass.

“I’m not leaving you.” Bucky wiped his hand down his face realizing how forceful that sounded. “I mean, I won’t leave until you get out okay? I don’t want you to slip and fall or anything.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case but now I feel like I’ve jinxed myself,” you joked. Having Bucky hear your vivid description of shitting was bad enough, you really didn’t want him to find you passed out in the shower.

Bucky lowered the volume of the TV to barely above mute, wanting to listen out for anything out of the ordinary. He heard the shower turn on and a minute later the curtain pulling as you stepped in.

A text from Sam pulled his attention away from listening and he opened the message, his jaw clenched as he scanned the photo attached. It was Billy, with his arm around another girl. She was short with dark hair pulled into a bun, dressed professionally and Bucky questioned if he was jumping the gun at thinking the worst. Maybe she worked with Billy or maybe it was his sister.

The next text that came through proved his theories wrong. Sam captioned the picture of Billy kissing the girl with “Asshole.”

Bucky: I’m with Y/N now. She’s been sick all wknd I don’t think she knows about this.

Sam: Do you want to tell her or should I have Wanda come by? She’s ready to rip his head off.

Bucky: So am I Bucky: Fuck. Bucky: idk maybe Wanda should talk to her?

There was nothing Bucky wanted more than to tell you what an asshole Billy was but he didn’t want to be accused of using it to his advantage in any way. Bucky would be there with everyone else to support you through this but as a friend only. You deserved better than Billy no matter who you ended up with.

“Bucky!”

The sound of your voice in distress makes him pop up from the couch. He runs to the door, fear coursing through his veins as he hopes you’re okay. Inside the steamy bathroom he finds your head poking out through the shower curtain, the rest of it pulled close to your body not to reveal yourself.

“I forgot to grab a towel,” you said, smiling. “They’re over there.” A bare arm slick with water points behind him and he grabs a towel from a shelf. “Thanks,” you said, taking it from him, watching as he nods awkwardly before shutting the door.

Bucky’s cheeks are flushed from the brief humidity and the sight of seeing you in the shower. Well, not that he saw anything but just the idea of it has his heart racing.

Ten minutes later and you were out of the bathroom, changed into new pajamas, these ones covered with a cute cactus print, brushing through your still wet hair.

Silence filled the room as you finished your post shower routine of putting on a variety of moisturizers and facial sprays and Bucky felt like he had overstayed his welcome. You were winding down even though it was still early, and truthfully he had a weekend’s worth of work to catch up on.

“So there’s more rice on the counter, plus an unopened bottle of ginger ale too, and if you need anything else you know where I live.” He chuckled uncomfortably at his bad joke. “Really though if you need me please call me okay? I’ll come running.”

He didn’t mean to sound so desperate but it was true.

“Thank you so much for everything Bucky.” You threw your arms around him for a hug, melting deeper into him as he wrapped his arms around your body.

Neither of you realized the other didn’t want to let go but you made the move to reluctantly pull apart. Bucky had spent his whole weekend doting on you, you didn’t want to force him to stay any longer.

Bucky smiled as he gazed upon you, the way your eyes shifted down before staring back up at him. He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to your forehead and a surge of electricity went racing through you. His kiss lingered and the longer he made contact with your skin the more you wanted to press your lips to his.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, walking away slowly towards the door.

Your heart was caught in your throat as you locked it behind him, letting out a deep, longing sigh, and the realization that you might have feelings for Bucky.

PART 15

[tessisawriter]

Invisible String, Part 1 (Colton Parayko)

Request: Can you write an imagine where the reader is John Krasinski’s [niece] but she’s dating Colton Parayko and like she has to breaks the news and John acts mad or something and scares them but then he says he’s joking and he’s fine with it? Thanks

***NOTE***: I changed some details in the last scene b/c I moved the timeline up from October 7 to September 14.

A/N: I’m back! The protagonist is an OC but I decided to call her Y/N instead of giving her an actual name b/c John Krasinski has nieces and/or nephews irl. I already planned the entire plot but idk whether the series will be 2 or 3 parts—I’ll post an update when I know more. This series takes place from March 2018 to June 2019 and is loosely based on Taylor Swift’s “Invisible String.” Here is the playlist.

Warnings: Six swear words, rough breakup, alcohol, loneliness & homesickness

Word Count: 3.4k

March 21, 2018

You were impervious to the mix of pitying and derisive glances from passersby as you sat on the curb. You knew you looked like a cliché, crying in front of a restaurant because your boyfriend broke up with you on your 22nd birthday, but you didn’t care. One question gnawed at you: how had six words upended your seemingly perfect day and relationship?

Your brain was buzzing with activity, wondering if Max had given you any clues that something was amiss. This morning, you woke up in his Cambridge apartment to him singing “Happy Birthday” while kneeling at the side of the bed. As soon as Max finished singing, he kissed you before grabbing his backpack and hurrying out of the room. That didn’t mean anything, though: Max was one of the only seniors to have the misfortune of taking all morning classes because his major was Theater, Dance, and Media. He was also (as usual) running late.

The rest of the day unfolded like any other Wednesday as you followed your schedule of lounging in bed, studying for an hour, going to the sandwich shop across the street for lunch, and heading to campus at 1PM for your classes. Afterwards, you went back to the apartment to find Max waiting there, already dressed for dinner. You quickly showered, curled your long (Y/HC) hair, and changed into a dark green dress and black booties before taking his hand and going to an Italian restaurant in Boston’s North End.

There were no warning signs at dinner, either. In fact, everything was perfect until you were waiting for the check and Max said with a detached look in his eyes, “I think we should break up.”

You didn’t want to relive what happened next, but the images of you acting like Elle Woods when Warner broke up with her in Legally Blonde popped into your head unbidden. You closed your eyes in humiliation and shame as you remembered Max, the man you dated for three years, abandoning you at the table and fleeing the restaurant. The other customers stared at you, some sympathetic, others scandalized, and the rest in pure shock.

You snapped out of the flashback when you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. You whipped your head around to find a young man with blonde hair and black rimmed glasses squatting next to you on the curb.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The panic faded as you took in the man’s features. He was definitely in his 20s, probably a few years older than you, and his blue eyes were filled with concern. Something about that concern, though, made you snap.

“Do I look like I’m okay? I mean, come on, look at me!” you demanded while pointing at your face, which you (correctly) assumed had giant black streaks of mascara on it.

You fully expected the man to walk away and leave you be, but he sat down on the curb instead and said, “My bad, that was a stupid question. I’ve got some tissues if you want them?”

That made your attitude soften. He was only trying to help, so you nodded and he handed you a pack of tissues from his pocket. You smiled at him, took the tissues, and wiped your eyes and face. As soon as you were satisfied that they were clean, you broke the silence. “Thank you…?”

“Colton, and it’s no problem. What’s your name?���

“Y/N.” You held out your hand for him to shake, which he did. After a pause, you asked: “Why did you stop? Surely you have somewhere better to be tonight.”

He chuckled, and the sound of it made your heart flutter. “I was just heading back to my hotel when I saw you, and I figured I’d stop and make sure you get home safe. That is, assuming you live here?”

“Yeah, I live in Cambridge.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they were no longer true, so you amended your statement. “Well, I lived in Cambridge until about 15 minutes ago when my now ex-boyfriend dumped me. On my fucking birthday.”

“Shit, that sucks. I’m really sorry.” He paused before adding, “I’m assuming he isn’t here.”

“Nope. He hightailed it out of the restaurant as soon as he got his credit card back.”

Colton shook his head. “What a jackass.”

“I know, right? I wasted three whole years with someone who not only broke up with me in a very public setting on my birthday, but also couldn’t be bothered to ask where I would go! He probably assumed I’d go to my parents’ house, but still.”

“Your parents live here?” Colton asked as he fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it.

“Yeah, right by Boston Common, why?”

“I’ll get an Uber and drop you off before going back to the hotel.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you protested while going through your bag for your phone. “We just met! I’ll pay.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been through a lot tonight. Let me take care of it.”

You stared into Colton’s eyes and realized he wasn’t going to back down. It took everything in you to suppress your pride, thank him, and provide the address. Colton typed it into his phone, waited for a moment, and said, “The closest one is around the block.”

“That’s good.” Your burst of energy dissipated as quickly as it came, and you fell silent. From the corner of your eye, you saw Colton open his mouth as if to say something before the headlights of a car momentarily blinded you.

“That’s the Uber.” Colton stood up and offered his hand, and you took it. You couldn’t help but notice how well they fit together as he pulled you up and off the curb, but after regaining your balance, something else grabbed your attention: his height.

“Gee, how tall are you? No one’s ever made me feel like a dwarf before,” you joked as he led you to the car, your hands still intertwined.

He chuckled and opened the door for you. You let go of his hand and slid into the car. After Colton slid in next to you and shut the door, he replied, “I’m 6’6” and no one’s ever made me feel like I’m not a giant before. You’re what, 5’10”?”

“6 feet, actually,” you corrected him. “So, where are you from, Colton?”

“St. Albert; it’s just outside Edmonton in Canada, but I’ve been in the States for a while. I went to the University of Alaska in Fairbanks before moving to, uh, St. Louis.”

You noticed Colton’s hesitancy and the fact that he lowered his voice when saying “St. Louis,” and you were about to ask why when you thought better of it. You were protective of your privacy, too, especially whenever people commented about how funny it was that you shared the same last name as John Krasinski. It wasn’t a coincidence—he was your uncle, and the two of you were extremely close—but you went along with it and never corrected them because it wasn’t their business. So, you let it go. “And what brings you to Boston?”

“Work,” he said before changing the subject. “What do you do? Are you still in school or—”

“I’m a senior at Harvard,” you cut him off. You generally didn’t drop the “H-bomb,” as you and your friends called it, with people you didn’t know well, but this was a special case. Colton just confirmed he was hiding something, and after looking at him in better lighting, his face seemed familiar, which weirded you out. You had to get back on equal footing, and the H-bomb almost always unsettled people.

“Wow, you must be really smart,” Colton said, seeming impressed but unphased. You couldn’t help yourself from raising an eyebrow as he asked, “What’s your major?”

“Government. What was yours?”

“Business administration.”

“Ah.” You fell silent again, this time on purpose, as you racked your brain for where you might have crossed paths with Colton. He wasn’t from Boston, not even close, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen him before, and recently.

Colton didn’t let you ruminate for long before reviving the conversation. “What do you want to do when you graduate?”

“I’ll be a lawyer one day, but I have to be a paralegal first. I’m looking for jobs right now.”

Before Colton could reply, the car came to a stop. You looked out the window and saw your parents’ townhouse and your childhood home.Your time in the car had flown by, a sensation you rarely, if ever, experienced. And there was something between you and Colton, a connection you couldn’t quite describe, that made you want to spend more time with him. But your time was up. “This is me. It was nice to meet you, Colton, and thanks again for the ride—I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied. “I’m glad I found you.”

You were overwhelmed by an intense desire to ask for his number. If only he lived in Boston or somewhere in the Northeast. But he lived in St. Louis, so you moved to open the door, only to feel Colton’s hand wrap around yours and hear him say: “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned around and locked eyes with him. It was like being in a trance, and your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

It felt like years, but it was more like a few moments before Colton let go of your hand. “Good luck with the search. I’m sure you’ll find a good job.”

You wanted to let out a sigh of disappointment, but you just said, “Thanks,” and smiled at him before getting out of the car.

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

The smell of bacon finally lured you out of your bed at noon the next day.

It had been a rough night. The reality of the breakup hit you like a ton of bricks when you rang the doorbell and all but collapsed in your mom’s arms when she answered the door. She brought you over to the couch, where your dad was waiting anxiously. As soon as you sat down, you grabbed your mom and cried for an hour straight as she held you and stroked your hair. You knew Max wasn’t worth your tears, but it had more to do with you. Despite his major, he wasn’t that good of an actor, and yet, he fooled you into thinking he could be your person. You took immense pride in your instincts, but they failed you with Max. How could you have possibly fallen in love with such a heartless person? More terrifying, would you have ended up marrying him a few years down the road if he hadn’t broken up with you?

You didn’t know the answer to either question, so you stopped crying and began venting about how the breakup went down. Your dad almost hit the ceiling after hearing that Max left you at the restaurant, and you had to talk him out of driving to Cambridge to “give that little shit a piece of my mind!” That wasn’t to say you weren’t thinking about revenge, but your dad potentially getting arrested was not helpful. After that, you started crying again, only this time out of frustration, and didn’t stop until you practically passed out on the couch. The last thing you remembered was your parents guiding you up the stairs to your bed.

Thankfully, you had no classes on Thursdays, so you were able to sleep in and be, if nothing else, well-rested. Your stomach rumbled when you smelled the bacon, so you got out of bed and made your way down the stairs to the kitchen, where your parents were sitting at the table and watching the television.

“Ugh, why are you watching the news?” you said as a way of greeting while making a beeline for the bacon.

“Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” your dad replied. “I’m waiting for the sports report. I missed the game last night and Uncle John wouldn’t tell me the score. He said he’s sorry about, I quote, ‘the scumbag’ and he’ll call you tonight.”

“God, I miss him. And you,” you addressed your mom as you shoveled a load of bacon onto your plate, “are the best.”

“See, honey? I knew bacon would cheer her up,” she said to your dad.

“I didn’t doubt it. Y/N, we have to figure out a time to get your stuff from that piece of shit’s apartment. I’m not letting you go by yourself, but do you want to let him know ahead of time or just show up?”

“Who did the B’s play?” you sat down at the table and changed the subject immediately. You didn’t care about sports, but your dad and Uncle John were major Bruins fans and the mere mention of Max gave you a headache.

“The Blues.”

“Where do they play again?” you asked as you ate your bacon. It had to be a team from the Western Conference, but the only teams you knew there were the Canucks and Blackhawks because they were on your dad’s shit list.

“St. Louis.”

You almost choked on your food. “What?”

“St. Louis, sweetie. You know, the Gateway Arch—”

“Yeah, I know, Mom,” you recovered. “That’s the team Jenna likes, right, Dad?”

“Yes. Shh, here it is!” He didn’t need to tell you twice; you doubted Colton was a professional hockey player, but your curiosity won out as you intently watched the television.

The score flashed on the screen—an OT loss for the Bruins—and your dad groaned. “Ugh, I’ve got to turn this garbage off.”

And suddenly, a few Blues players, including one that looked awfully similar to Colton (albeit without glasses), flashed onto the screen. You didn’t get a good enough look at him to be sure, though, because your dad changed the channel. You let out a noise of frustration.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” your mom asked, and your dad looked like he had the same question when he turned away from the television.

“I’ll text the scumbag and tell him I’m coming this afternoon, if that’s okay with you, Dad,” you said. “I want to get it over with and besides, I need my laptop and textbooks.”

“That’s perfect, sweetheart. The office doesn’t need me today, anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back; my phone’s upstairs,” you called out behind you as you raced back up the stairs. You did not want to text Max, but it was better than telling your dad that the man he praised for making sure you got home last night was potentially part of the team responsible for his beloved Bruins’ loss.

You locked your bedroom door and grabbed your phone to pull up Google and the St. Louis Blues roster. Part of you thought there was no way a professional hockey player actually cared enough to bring you home, but the Blues being in town and one of its members resembling Colton were too many coincidences for your liking. You tapped your foot impatiently as the phone loaded the roster, and you scrolled through the list until you found a name of interest.

“C. Parayko, 55, R, 6’6’’…”

It cut off after that, so you scrolled sideways to see the other information. It left you without a shadow of doubt, but you clicked on the name anyway to view a picture. Colton’s headshot and full first name stared back at you as if they were looking into your soul.

It really was him. You had to have seen him on the little television at the sandwich shop’s register yesterday.

But what did this information mean for you, really, besides discovering his identity? It was nice to know his full name because it confirmed that he was a real person instead of a delusion your reeling mind made up, but it didn’t change one important fact: you lived in Boston and he lived in St. Louis. Barring a radical change in one of your lives, which you didn’t see happening, that was the reality of the situation. It was time to stop dreaming and confront your immediate future.

You pulled up Max’s number and began composing the text which, after several drafts, read: “I’ll be at the apartment today from 3 to 5. My dad’s coming with me, so make yourself scarce. I want my shit back.”

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

6 months later: September 14, 2018

You were miserable only two weeks after relocating to St. Louis.

It was funny how one phone call could completely change someone’s life. In your case, said phone call involved an extremely attractive job offer with a clear path for advancement within one year. The offers you had received from legal firms in Boston, New York, D.C., and Philadelphia were underwhelming, to say the least, and you were only a week away from graduation. You had already endured a lot of change this year, so why not one more?

After nearly giving your parents a heart attack but ultimately receiving their blessing, you accepted the offer and moved to St. Louis on September 1st. Uncle John had been especially supportive, enlisting Jenna (known by the rest of the world as Pam from The Office) to fly out from L.A. and show you around the city last week. She made sure you knew the ins and outs of the city, which you really appreciated. You also loved your job. You were doing important work every day, and your boss was already hinting at giving you the promotion you wanted. 

So, why were you unhappy? It was your social life, or rather, lack of one. You didn’t know anyone in St. Louis, and while your coworkers weren’t mean, they didn’t make you feel welcome, either.

That seemed to have changed earlier today when two of your desk neighbors who were around your age, Harper and Ellie, invited you out for drinks after work. You couldn’t have been happier. You went home after work, did your hair and makeup, put on your favorite royal blue mini dress, and met them at the dive bar you recommended. You were so excited on the way over that you could barely sit still; maybe you’d make friends with these girls and finally feel like you fit in in this city.

Unfortunately, that didn���t happen. Harper and Ellie abandoned you within less than five minutes after two guys came over and asked them to dance. You were now sitting at the bar alone, nursing a cocktail and despairing over your situation.

It was times like these when you thought about Colton. It had been six months since you’d met him in Boston, and you didn’t want to risk looking like a lunatic by slipping into his DMs on Instagram, but you were getting desperate. It was bad enough that being from the Northeast made you stick out like a sore thumb, but the loneliness was eating you alive, and the combination made you feel unmoored. Maybe a familiar and friendly face could change that.

As if God had answered your prayers, you heard a commotion near the entrance. You swiveled your stool in that direction and saw a group of tall, good-looking men in their 20s entering the bar. The tallest one had blonde hair and black rimmed glasses.

It was Colton.

Your brain screamed at you to look away and approach him after he settled in, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he laughed at something one of his friends said. It was as if he felt your stare because he suddenly looked in your direction and appeared to gasp.

It was only then that you turned away and faced the bar, drinking the rest of your cocktail in a few gulps. You were so embarrassed; he probably thought you were a stalker or something. You were about to flag down the bartender for another drink when you felt that familiar large hand rest on your shoulder.

You turned your head and found Colton staring at you, his blue eyes full of incredulity and…happiness?

“Y/N. It’s really you,” he breathed.

[moonlight--cafe]

Thanks! And sure thing! I'll let you know when I post my story in the future 😊

About your fic, the story sound so engaging so far 😯 I have a suggestion (if you've haven't done it already), what if you made a playlist to go with your story? Since you said your fic is based off TxT's discography, I can totally see the story aligning with songs like "Anti-romantic" or "I know I love you". I was thinking of doing the same thing with my Spotlight fic, but you know, you can do you. You know what? I just had an idea. Would you be down sending a list of song recommendations to each other (in the asks I mean, doesn't have to be outside of Tumblr in case you were worried about that) to make a playlist for our fics? Idk it literally just popped in my head. It's cool if you don't wanna do it.

If it's ok still, I have another fic I'd like to share (it's still in progress of writing though)

I'm still trying to find a title but it's another BTS fic. This time it's in a dystopian setting. And it's based on the "ON" mv. This fic is inspired by movies, tv shows, and/or youtube videos. Mainly the Marvel movies, RWBY (the Rooster teeth series), and the youtube series “Autodale” (if you haven’t seen those last 2, you should check them out when you get a chance). 

The story is set in a world called Cyron, home of the Seven Houses. And each of the Seven Houses have a certain theme. I thought of either basing them on real life cultures, elemental or giving them different military values. But like I said, this is still in the works. Cyron is ruled by a queen, named Sylas, who is also the villain of this story. And each of the Houses possess a map (appearing as an ancient amulet), known as the Seven Maps. I'm still having trouble writing y/n's background (and some of the lore), but the main plot is that in Cyron, people who have super powers are called "Users". They were once known as heroes until Cyron started to decay. When Sylas came to power, she saw Users as the root cause and makes a plan to eliminate every single one of them. Many years later, a rebellion formed, and they're known as the Red Hoods (or The Seven), lead by the members of BTS.

Ik some of this doesn't make sense. I'm also struggling with y/n's background but that's the main plot I have as of now. Sorry again for making another long ask (hopefully you don't mind) but that's just another fic I've been working on haha

Honestly I love how your brain works! I actually did start compiling a bit of as playlist, it's not official yet but it's basically just the songs I’ve had on repeat while I weas writing my fic . And can you believe I totally didn't add Anti-Romantic! I'll actually do that now, It would honestly work so well😋, And of course I would love to share song recommendations, I'm always listening to music and I don't really have people who really ask for song recommendations so hell yes! Plus I also need some more suggestions from you, and when I finally finish this fic I'll definitely credit you for your help 💜 And I also don't mind it can be on tumblr or somewhere else I'm not too fussed it's really all down to what you feel comfortable with.

Also I would love to share the playlist I currently have because I was actually invested in my own fic for once and I've given it a type of early 00's/ late 90's coming of age feeling, which just worked with Yeonjun.

And wow!!! I'm so bloody floored by your ideas, you are so unbelievably creative, I'm speechless. I've seen all of your references except for Autodale so I will totally check it out when I can 🙂

And don't apologize I love seeing your asks in my inbox also I hope it's okay but I wanna dub you my fic buddy so I can bounce ideas off of you and get playlist advice, and if you feel comfortable and you want to I can totally bounce around ideas and suggest music, this can be a mutual thing! Thank you so much for sharing these ideas with me seriously it all sounds insanely cool.

P.S don't worry all of it made perfect sense 😁

[spencers-renaissance]

A Christmas Like This

Summary: Spencer has a very specific plan for their first Christmas in their new house, and it has to be absolutely perfect. Derek's going to do everything in his power to make his boyfriend as happy as possible, even if that means a house covered in garlands and a tree covered in animal skeletons...

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, christmas fic, est relationship, snow, slow dancing, bathing together, sharing clothes, cuddling, neurodivergence, so much romance

Pairing: Derek x Spencer

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Spencer’s been impatiently counting down the days, much to Derek’s amusement, but the day is finally here: they’re decorating their house for Christmas. It feels particularly special this year because it’s their first year in the house Derek had painstakingly renovated and then surprised him with one random evening, and Spencer’s spent weeks thinking about how to make it just right, because it needs to be absolutely perfect and he simply won’t settle for anything less.

Which is how he finds himself anxiously pacing the living room, waiting for his boyfriend to return. He’d popped out earlier in the afternoon to pick up some last minute decorations at Spencer’s behest, but a flurry of snow had started to fall since, and Derek was taking a bit too long for his liking. He worries his lip as he tries to remember how wrapped up his boyfriend was and why on earth he walked into town and didn’t take the car. 

Eventually, though, he’s appeased as Derek bursts through the front door, bringing a gust of wind and a small dusting of snow in with him. “Didn’t quite expect that,” he chuckles as Spencer rushes to greet him and help him out of his soaked through coat. “Got the decorations you wanted, though.”

Spencer grins at his jovial attitude and leans up to plant a firm kiss on his lips. “That’s because you’re amazing,” he murmurs, pulling away only marginally before kissing him again. 

“Baby if that’s the greeting I get when I bring you goodies, I’m gonna spoil you rotten,” Derek says amusedly as he runs his cold hands up the sides of Spencer’s jumper, smiling at him fondly. 

“You already do,” he protests, pulling away from his hold and snatching the bag Derek’s holding to eagerly peer inside. “This is going to look incredible.” He looks back at Derek with excitement lighting up his eyes and he’s rewarded with a gentle kiss on the nose. 

“You are too damn adorable, you know that?”

“So you tell me,” Spencer says, his turn to look amused for a moment before snapping into action. “Right, we should get started!”

“Whoa, I hate to burst your bubble, pretty boy, but I’m soaked to the skin,” Derek says, following Spencer into the kitchen as he watches him empty all the bags and survey the decorations with analytical eyes. “I’m gonna take a bath first. Care to join me?” 

Spencer’s head snaps up at that. “What if it stops snowing while we’re in the bath?”

Derek shoots him a puzzled look. “Why… would that matter?”

“It’s perfect weather to put up the Christmas decorations while it’s snowing!” Spencer says, like it’s obvious. 

“Well,” Derek says diplomatically, “then the snow will have settled and you’ll actually be able to see the picturesque scenery without having to peer through a white haze.” It’s a pretty good answer. He’s got much better at it in the seven years they’ve been together.

Spencer pauses to think it over carefully. “You’re right,” he decides eventually, setting down the garland he was expecting and walking over to Derek. “You make us some hot chocolate and I’ll set it up.” He kisses him again before running up the stairs to the bathroom, making it as cosy as possible with candles and bath salts and bubbles. 

Derek’s only a few minutes behind him and the bath is almost full by the time he gets there, Spencer’s sitting submerged in the water as he concentrates on the taps, diligently adjusting the temperature every thirty seconds or so to get it just right. “Sorry to interrupt your tap watching,” he says, smile evident in his voice evn to Spencer as he refuses to look away from the flow of water.

He sets the hot chocolates down on the edge of the bathtub and strips off quickly, feeling the sweet relief at having the cold, damp clothing finally off his body. “Scooch up,” he tells Spencer, intending to squeeze in behind him. If nothing else, it finally manages to snatch his boyfriend’s attention from the taps. 

“No, Derek, I’m too big,” Spencer whines, as he always does when they bathe together. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart,” Derek says, as he always replies to his boyfriend’s ridiculous argument. “We always manage to fit. Come on.” He finally gets Spencer to slide forwards a little, turning the water off at the same time, and he slides into the bath behind him. It takes them a few moments to get properly comfortable and Spencer almost elbows both mugs off the side of the bath at one point, but they finally settle into one another. 

Derek’s chest is cool against Spencer’s back but his skin soon warms as the contact with Spencer’s flush body and the hot water make themselves at home, nestling against him. “This is just what I needed,” Derek sighs as he sips his hot chocolate and settles further into the bath. “My baby in the bath with me and a nice warm drink.” 

Spencer blushes, as he always does. Not even seven years of relentless flirting and nicknames could drive out his instinctive reaction to praise, but he also knows Derek likes it. It’s funny to think how much they’ve changed over the last few years, how when they got together back on a case in Michigan in 2009, they would be here in their own house in 2016. Spencer’s filled out and isn’t the skinny little thing Derek fell in love with anymore, not that either of them mind, and Derek -- hardened from the many years of being in the FBI -- had told Spencer his plans to retire a few months ago. 

Everything around them has continued to mutate, their circumstances, surroundings, physical appearances, but they still love each other just as much as they have done for all these years. Relentlessly, consistently, unfailingly. 

Spencer heads straight for Derek’s drawers as soon as they get out of the bath, dressing himself in one of the warmest hoodies he can find. “What if I wanted to wear that?” Derek teases as he grabs a sweatshirt for himself. 

“Oh, please,” Spencer scoffs. “You’re not fooling anyone, Derek, I know you love seeing me in your clothes. You’d rather me wear it than you”

Derek grins widely, pulling the sweater over his head before wrapping Spencer in a close hug, softening when he feels him nestle his face into his neck. “You got me, I do love seeing my gorgeous boy in my clothes,” Derek admits, “but who could blame me?”

Spencer leans back slightly, still pressed against Derek and kisses him softly. “I love you,” he murmurs, and it’s almost shy in its naked vulnerability. 

“I love you more,” Derek insists, kissing him again and giving him one last squeeze before putting some space between them. “But I believe we have a house to decorate Dr Reid?” 

Spencer’s face lights up at that, and he hurries to pull on some PJ bottoms and a pair of odd socks on before grabbing Derek’s hand and pulling him downstairs. “I wrote it down because I need you to adhere to these very strict instructions,” Spencer says seriously, despite Derek’s small amused smile.

“Yes sir,” he says as he takes the paper, but he corrects himself at Spencer’s stern look. “I will follow it to the letter, baby, don’t worry.” Conceding is definitely worth the bright smile he gets in return. 

Spencer plays his specially curated Christmas playlist over the house speaker system as they get to work pinning the garlands and fairy lights and decorations handsewn by Penelope in their designated spots according to Spencer’s plan. Derek thinks it rather looks like Christmas has vomited over their house by the time they head to the tree, but his boyfriend looks so pleased with himself, and for the past seven years his own joy has followed one simple law: if Spencer’s happy, he’s happy. 

There’s just one tiny problem with that stipulation: he’s not sure he can quite stomach the ornaments Spencer’s chosen for the tree. “Spencer, baby, you know I love you,” he says slowly as he watches his boyfriend carefully unbox the decorations, “but we are not putting those on the tree.”

He’s somehow managed to find ornaments in the shape of animal skeletons, and he wants to decorate their Christmas tree with them. Derek feels a little lost. 

“But they’re anatomically correct animal skeletons ranging from a cricket’s exoskeleton to the bones of a horse,” Spencer protests, as if that will change Derek’s mind. 

“Exactly,” he replies. “The whole house is beautifully decorated with garlands and lights and colours and wreaths and you want to hang skeletons on the tree? The most important part of the Christmas decoration process?” 

“Yes,” Spencer says slowly, “I want to hang skeletons on the tree because it’s the most important part of the Christmas decoration process.”

Derek takes a deep breath in. “Okay, how about we put some fairy lights and tinsel on, hang some normal baubles and then you can put some of your skeletons on there, too?” It’s a compromise. He’s not exactly thrilled with the idea of staring at bones on his Christmas tree, but at least there’s a little bit of tradition mixed in there, too. 

Spencer’s a lot less uncompromising than he used to be, so after a few seconds and a sigh he coalesces. “Alright,” he agrees, “but I get to hang at least eight skeletons. Deal?” 

“Deal,” Derek sighs, smiling slightly at the absurdity of his boyfriend. God, he’s in love. 

With the Christmas tree hosting a small archeology exhibit among its branches and the house satisfactorily ready for the holidays, they head to the kitchen to make some dinner, both hungry from a busy day of hanging wreaths and plugging in fairy lights. And getting caught in a minor snowstorm, of course. Derek heads straight to the speaker and plugs his phone in, setting it to play Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album, needing a change of pace from the instrumental playlist they’ve been listening to all day. Spencer doesn’t complain though, he just smiles warmly at Derek, kissing him chastely before heading to the fridge to pull out the ingredients needed for a festive chicken dinner. 

“We’re making roast potatoes, right?” Derek checks as he pours them both a glass of wine, listening to the sultry voice of Frank Sinatra accompanied by Spencer’s disorganised rummage through the vegetable drawer. 

“Yep,” Spencer affirms with his head inside the fridge, eventually emerging with an armful of vegetable and meat, dumping them unceremoniously on the countertop before continuing his search through the kitchen cabinets. They’d moved into the house properly nearly five months ago, but they still haven’t figured out the best way to store food, and Derek was infamous for shoving the grocery shopping in the first cabinet he sees, leading to a rather disorganised system. 

He soon finds the right spices and cupboard ingredients for the traybake they’d made countless times before. Derek hands him the glass of wine as soon as he comes to stand next to him again, cradling his cheek with his hand, stroking his thumb over the ruddy flush on Spencer’s cheek. “I love you,” he says gently, looking deep into the warm honey of his eyes and leaning in for a soft kiss. 

Spencer’s blushing even more by the time he pulls back, and Derek can’t help but smile at the bashful nature of his boyfriend even after all these years. “I love you more,” Spencer promises, hand running gently down Derek’s muscled arm, appreciating the soft touch of the sweatshirt he’d pulled on earlier. 

“Not possible,” Derek grins, punctuating his words with another kiss to Spencer’s lips.

“Stop,” Spencer protests, wiggling out of his hold and turning to the food. “Stop being sappy. We have dinner to make.”

“Very important business,” Derek agrees, but acts the perfect sous chef as Spencer takes care of the vegetables and trimmings and puts him in charge of the chicken. They work quickly and the traybake is in the oven before they know it, leaving them sipping their wine as they lean against the counter, chatting idly. 

That is, until I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm starts playing, bright music filling the kitchen as Derek sets his wine glass down, taking Spencer’s from his hand and setting it next to his before he takes his hand and pulls him into the middle of the kitchen.

“What are you doing, Derek?” Spencer giggles as Derek pulls him close and twirls him around the kitchen. 

“Shh. We’re dancing,” he whispers, smiling fondly at Spencer’s unabashed happiness. He told himself at the very beginning of their relationship that this was all he really needed to achieve in life; making Spencer happy would forever be enough for him. 

Off with my overcoat, off with my glove

Who needs an overcoat? I'm burning with love

Derek dips Spencer down, making him throw his head back in laughter. He holds him there for a second before lifting him back up and kissing him quickly before returning to a comfortable swaying movement, keeping them in time with the uptempo music. He sings along quietly as they look deep into one another’s eyes, continuing to dance around the dimly lit, decked out kitchen. 

What do I care how much it may storm?

I’ve got my love to keep me warm

As soon as they pause their dance, Spencer leans in and kisses him, hand moving from his shoulder to the side of his neck as he holds him closer. Derek kisses back just as eagerly as the music switches to the next song, deepening the kiss as he holds Spencer’s waist, caressing his sides gently, savouring the weight of his favourite person pressed up against him in the warmth of the kitchen. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this exact moment,” Spencer whispers earnestly as they pull away.

“Not even when I took you to Bali?” Derek teases, smiling fondly at the joy in his boyfriend’s eyes. 

“Shut up,” Spencer admonishes, but he’s smiling too when he leans back in for another kiss. 

They eat their dinner together on the sofa. The Christmas lights are twinkling on the tree in the corner of the living room and the decorations Penelope had gifted them brighten the whole room; Derek has to admit that despite the animal skeletons, the house looks beautiful. He’s not sure he could possibly feel more cosy than he is right now, tucking into a delicious traybake, cuddled up next to Spencer while Love Actually plays on the TV. 

As soon as their plates are cleared, Spencer predictably cuddles even closer, folding his body into the contours of Derek’s as they watch the intertwining stories of the film. It’s not long before they’re both tearing up at the emotional narrative, sharing a box of tissues between them. Usually it’s Derek who cries at the films they watch, but this particular one seems to be getting to Spencer more than normal: the love between Sarah and her mentally ill brother, Michael, has Spencer stifling sobs as he thinks about his mother. 

“Come here, baby,” Derek whispers, fairly tearful himself. He gently guides Spencer to lay down on the sofa with his head in Derek’s lap, and he cards his fingers through the curls he loves so much as they watch the rest of the film play out. 

As the credits start to roll, Spencer sits up properly, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder. “That was a bit intense,” he chuckles.

“Have you seen it before?” 

“No, Penelope just recommended it to me,” Spencer replies, sniffling again.

“I can’t count the amount of times she’s forced me to sit through it,” Derek laughs. “I cry every time, to be honest.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, he just takes one of Derek’s hands sitting in his lap and fiddles gently with his fingers, tracing the outline, the veins, the contour. It’s a comforting little motion for both of them, a point of connection, something to focus on, shrinking the world that sometimes feels so big down to just two hands, one tracing the other. 

“Come on, baby,” Derek says after a few minutes, “let’s get up to bed.”

“I’m not tired yet,” he protests quietly, snuggling further into Derek’s side.

“Well you can read in bed,” Derek points out. “But I want to sleep. I’m not the young man I once was, you know.”

Spencer cranes his head up to meet Derek’s eyes. “You’re even sexier now,” Spencer says, and it’s so random that Derek can’t help the bark of laughter it elicits. 

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” he grins. 

“You didn’t call me baby,” Spencer pouts, rotating his body so he’s straddling Derek’s lap.

“I’m very sorry,” Derek says mock-sincerely, lifting a hand to brush a stray curl from Spencer’s forehead. “How can I make it up to you?”

“A letter of apology to management,” Spencer suggests.  

“Management being you, I’m guessing?” Derek smiles as he hums in affirmation. “Come on you, let’s head up to bed.”

Spencer grumbles the whole way about old men and going to sleep before 11pm, but it only serves to make Derek smile fondly, kissing him to shut him up as soon as they walk into the bedroom. They’re soon tucked up in bed, Christmas candles burning as fairy lights glow along their journey around the coving. Spencer starts on his new book, lit up dimly by the cosy lighting of the room,  while Derek settles down to sleep.

He can’t believe he has a Christmas like this to look forward to for the rest of his life.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez @fuckshitupm8-deactivated3728 

[mischiefandspirits]

Exploration

Sequel to Odd One Out

Alternate title: Five times the batkids' teammates didn't realize they have powers and one time their family already knew?

At the request of etherealizt on AO3

One ~ Oracle

Barbara sighed as she sunk further into the water, blowing a few bubbles away from her nose.

She was having a night of rest and relaxation. She’d told the Birds she was taking the night off and had threatened all the other bats with eternal rickrolling if any of them interrupted. The soft music Dinah had recommended was playing from her phone’s speakers on the counter and the lights were dimmed. She was trying out the strawberry and grapefruit bubble bar Carrie had made and had finally opened the rosé Bruce had gifted her when she’d moved into the Clock Tower. An Alfred-made meal was warming in the oven, courtesy of Jason paying her back a favor. After her bath, she’d eat dinner then watch some of the movies on Dick’s Babs Needs to See This!!!! playlist before heading to bed early.

It was meant to be a nice quiet night.

Which meant that whoever had decided to call her not ten minutes after she had lowered herself into the water and gotten comfortable was going to have some very annoying problems with their technology for the next week.

She gave the phone a good long glare before laying her head back and closing her eyes.

“This better be good,” she growled once she’d connected to her cell and answered the call on speakerphone.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” Mari said quickly. “It’s just… we went on this mission -- just a quick in and out thing, or it was supposed to be -- and we thought we wouldn’t need your help, but we kind of do and now it’s too late to back out.”

Barbara sighed. “I was taking a bath.”

About five thousand miles away, Vixen flinched and looked at her fellow Birds. She mouthed, She’s taking a bath.

Canary flinched as well while Katana and Huntress shared a look and Question shifted guiltily. All five women had stayed at the Clock Tower before so they knew how Oracle preferred to take showers because of how arduous it was for her to get into the bath, even with the bath lift.

The times she actually got to take a bath were to be treasured.

“Shoot, I mean, we’ll handle it.”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t have called me if you could handle it,” Oracle joked.

“No. I mean, yeah, we didn’t interrupt your night lightly, but we’ll figure something out. We don’t want to ruin your b-”

“It’s fine. I’m already logging into my system. What are we looking at?”

She’s already logging in? But that means... Vixen slumped back against the wall she’d been standing in front of as she realized Oracle must have started getting out before she’d even picked up the phone. They’d ruined her night the moment Vixen had pressed call. Well, no reason to waste even more of her night.

The mission went fast with Oracle’s help and the team was out in just under half an hour. They all gave their thanks and apologized again for interrupting her night, but she waved it away before signing off.

“I still feel bad about ruining her bath. Maybe we should get her something to make up for it,” Dinah said as they were on their way home.

“Maybe we didn’t. She got on pretty quickly. She might have just had a tablet near the bath,” Helena suggested.

Renee shook her head. “She had too many things going at once. She couldn’t have managed it all with just one device.”

Tatsu smirked and chuckled, “Even the great Oracle could not handle such limitations. We'll all chip in to show our thanks.”

Back in Gotham, Barbara sunk a little further into the water with a pleased moan.

While it was a headache to manage an entire mission remotely, it was worth it to remain wrapped in the warm water and fruity scents. Thankfully it was just a short one this time, but maybe next time she’ll ask Tim to cover her in case of another emergency.

She started the music on her phone again then reached out to dry off her hand so she could finally grab her wine and start her night of relaxation.

Two ~ Nightwing

Green Arrow frowned as he watched the goon in the interview room. He, Batman, Hawkwoman, Flash, and Cyborg had picked the guy up the day before while trying to locate an experimental power core that had been stolen from S.T.A.R. Labs. They’d tracked the core to a shipping yard, but lost it there. Most of the yard’s crew were clean, but the manager was clearly on the take and knew something.

The only problem was that he wouldn’t talk.

They’d tried intimidation, logic, bribery, and charisma, but nothing had worked. Since Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter were off-world and Zatanna was unreachable (something about alternate dimensions and a tiefling warlock’s pet eldritch book-dogs), that meant the lasso of truth, mind reading, and truth spells were out.

“There has to be some way we can get him to talk,” Vic said from where he was sitting on the floor next to Wally.

“I could get him to talk,” Shayera muttered, thumbing one of the spikes on her mace.

“No,” Bruce objected as he walked up.

“We’re running out of time.”

“I know, which is why I called for help.”

“Help?” Oliver asked.

“Me.”

Shayera and Oliver jumped and spun around to see Nightwing standing behind them, a wide impish grin on his face.

Fricking ninja bats!

“Oh heck yes!” Wally cheered before bending over in a coughing fit as he choked on the bite of sandwich that had been in his mouth, Vic patting his back.

Dick winked at his friends and looked through the two-way mirror. “Double-R filled me in. This is the guy giving you trouble?”

Bruce grunted.

“I think I’ll be able to take him,” Dick said, walking over to lean against his father. “I’m going to need to borrow Robin for a few days after this, though.”

Oliver swore he could see Bruce’s eyebrow raise beneath the cowl. “For a mission or fun?”

“I need someone small to help with an infiltration… and Jump Wildlife Park has a new Snakes of the Outback exhibit.”

Sighing, Bruce shook his head. “Robin’s benched for the next week, as I’m sure you know. He’s not getting out of it. You can take Catgirl if Catwoman doesn’t need her. I’ll allow a trip to the zoo, however.”

“I’ll take it.” Dick shot him finger guns as he backed towards the door. He then spun around on his heel, high-fived the now standing Wally and Vic, and skipped into the interrogation room. He dropped into the chair across the table from the goon, leaning it back so he could rest his feet on the table. “Hi, there, I’m Nightwing.”

The goon glared at him.

“No introductions then, alright. I’ll make this quick since I’m sure you want to get out of here and I’m currently in a game of hide-and-seek with some of the other bats and I’m not about to lose because B’s having an off day. You tell me what I want to know and I won't have to make you.”

The goon snorted. “Am I really supposed to be scared by that?”

Dick shrugged. “If I wanted to scare you I’d break your fingers. We can try that if you want.”

“The winged chick already offered and it didn’t scare me then either.” The man looked Nightwing over then gave a grin that Oliver was sure set off Batman’s dad mode, even if the man hadn’t responded in any visible way. “You’re welcome to try, though. At least you’re prettier than that bitch.”

Oliver grabbed Shayera’s shoulder when she stepped forward and Vic placed himself between her and the door without looking away from the mirror.

Dick hummed then dropped his legs. The chair fell back onto all fours and he followed the motion so he was leaning against the table, elbows on top with his hand clasped together to create a V that his chin rested on. “You think I’m pretty?”

Oliver blinked and focused his attention on Dick. His voice sounded… different. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was. It just sounded… nice.

Distantly, he was aware there was another voice talking as well.

What was it about Dick’s voice?

Suddenly Dick was standing up and patting the goon on the shoulder. “Thanks, you’ve been a big help.”

The goon nodded, blinking up at Dick in a daze.

Dick skipped back out of the room. “You got everything you need then?”

Did they? Crud, Oliver had zoned out of the entire interrogation. Bats was definitely going to tear him a new one.

Bruce grunted and Dick smiled. “You’re welcome. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get lost before Batgirl bribes my location out of Double-R.”

And with that, the younger Bat was booking it down the hall.

“I’m going to write up a report on the interrogation. Review the footage and meet up in conference hall F so we can plan our next move,” Bruce said before marching off.

There was a moment of silence then Shayera asked, “What the hell was that?”

Vic rolled his eyes and Wally nodded, “It’s always a little distracting, we know.”

“Speak for yourself,” Vic snorted, elbowing the speedster. “The Titans call it Wing’s Milk and Honey voice. He barely ever uses it, but when he does, he always manages to get the information we need out of whoever we’re interrogating. It’s freaky.”

“It’s awesome. Just wish he’d talk to me in that voice.”

Vic glared at Wally. “I did not need to hear that.”

The speedster snickered.

“Did any of you catch what the goon in there actually said?” Oliver asked reluctantly and was relieved when both Shayera and Wally shook their heads.

Vic made a so-so motion. “I know he said he was working for Luthor and the core got moved to a warehouse just outside Metropolis, but the rest kind of got lost. Dick’s…”

“Distracting?” Wally suggested and Vic elbowed him again.

“Just listen to the recording. It gets easier the more you hear it. Kind of,” Vic suggested.

“Standard Milk and Honey protocol,” Wally said with a nod. “Dick’s just too charismatic for his own good.”

Before anything else could be said, Dick’s affronted yelp came echoing down the hall.

“At least when it’s not one of his siblings.”

Three ~ Red Robin and Batgirl

The Young Justice team had just gotten back from a mission. Bart, Kon, Jaime, and Tim were all resting in the lounge. Artemis had retreated to her room while Cassie and Kara had had to head home. Stephanie had been hanging out with the boys, but had disappeared a few minutes in.

Kon was asleep on the couch with his head resting on Tim’s lap. Tim, meanwhile, was working on a report, his laptop on the couch’s arm so as not to disturb Kon. Jaime was sitting on the coffee table in front of them and playing a video game on the main screen. Bart was curled up in an armchair off to the side, working through his post-mission meal.

A cymbal-banging monkey toy sitting on the shelves behind Bart slid forward a little.

The speedster turned at the noise and blinked at the unfamiliar toy. He shrugged it off and turned back to his food.

The monkey slid a little closer.

Bart turned around and frowned at the toy. He stared at it for a moment then slowly turned back around.

A minute went by, then the toy slid noticeably closer.

Bart spun around, jumping out of his seat and pointing at the toy. “I knew it!”

Tim and Jaime both turned to him, but the Kryptonian-strength earplugs did their job and Kon didn’t wake.

“What are you yelling about?” Tim asked.

“The monkey, it’s moving!”

Both boys looked between the monkey and their friend.

“You’re crazy,” Jaime said, turning back to his game.

“It is!”

“Did you see it move?” Tim asked.

“Well, no, but it’s not in the same spot!”

“Your eyes are probably just playing tricks on you. Maybe your blood sugar’s low or something. You haven’t eaten much yet,” the vigilante suggested before going back to his report.

“Like you’re one to talk about not eating,” Bart muttered as he grabbed his chair and turned it to face the self. “It moved! I’ll prove it!”

Bart didn’t take his eyes off the monkey for the next five minutes, even as he continued to eat.

Then his shadow reached out and tapped him on the shoulder before quickly returning to its proper place on the back of the chair.

He looked up and scowled when he didn’t see anyone. He returned his focus to the shelf, only to find himself nose to nose with the monkey just as it started banging its cymbals.

Bart bolted from the room, screaming about calling someone to come deal with the possessed toy.

Jaime glanced up, then shook his head and resumed playing his game.

A few seconds later Stephanie walked in, her magic bracelet on her wrist, and high-fived Tim.

Four ~ Black Bat and Signal

“Hey, Halo. Don’t turn on the lights.”

Violet paused in the doorway of the pitch-black warehouse, hand on the light switch. “Signal?”

“BB and I are here too,” Lia called.

“Looker? Why are you three sitting around in the dark?” ey called as ey carefully tried to make eir way towards the group by sound and memory.

“Looker and Signal are playing poker. The lights are off so Signal can’t cheat with his vision,” Cass explained.

“And yet the kid’s still cheating,” Lia huffed.

“I am not!” Duke said in an offended voice.

“How are you guys reading the cards?” Violet asked as eir hands finally touched the card table ey hoped the three were using for eir game. “And who’s sitting where?”

A hand came from eir left and brushed against eir arm. “I’m here. BB is next to me and Sig’s across from her. There’s a free seat across from me if you want to sit with us until BL gets here. Also, we’re using cards with braille. I can see the pictures and Sig can read braille so we’re all good.”

“You can read braille?”

“Batman.”

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense.” Violet slipped around the table and reached around until eir hand found the chair. As ey sat down, ey asked, “Is Signal even old enough to play?”

“Does this look like a casino? Who cares? It’s not like I’m sneaking him alcohol or cigarettes or anything,” Lia scoffed.

“Nightwing let me try a sip of beer once. It was awful,” Duke said.

She snorted. “Big Bro probably gave you the shi-bad stuff to scare you off.”

“You know, I patrol Gotham. I’ve heard all the swears before.”

“I am not getting caught swearing in front of Batman’s baby, thanks.”

“Robin and Catgirl are both younger than me!”

“CG is the Cat’s baby and Rob’s an assassin lovechild. You are the Bat's baby.”

Suddenly the room flooded with light, earning hisses, groans, and curses from the quartet.

“Why are you four playing cards in the dark?” Jefferson asked and the four saw him walking up to the table once they’d blinked the stars out of their eyes.

Violet could also now see that Cass was leaning against Lia with one of her arms stretched over the table to hold hands with her brother. The two let go, however, at their leader’s approach and Cass sat up. All three were suited up like Violet, though Cass’s mask was sitting on the table.

“We were playing cards," Lia said. "The dark was supposed to keep the kid from cheating. It didn’t work.”

“Whatever you say,” Duke snorted, gathering up his winnings. He sorted through it, then gave half to Cass.

“Why does she get half?”

Duke shrugged and Cass smiled. “Family helps each other out.”

Lia looked confused while Violet nodded slowly.

Jefferson just sighed. “Right… Well, get this cleaned up then we can discuss tonight’s mission.”

Five ~ Robin and Catgirl

Jon smiled at Goliath as he stroked the dragon bat’s ear. “Who’s the bestest dragon bat? You are! Yes, you are!”

“Bestest is not a word, Kent. Don’t teach Goliath bad grammar,” Damian tutted from where he was brushing Alfred the Cat.

“Gee Damian! How come your dad lets you get so many cool pets?” Kathy asked from where she was laying on Bat-Cow’s back. “I mean, the cow, dog, and cat are normal, -”

“Normal for farm girls, at least,” Colin chirped from where he was scratching Titus’s belly.

“- but the dragon bat’s insane! And now you’ve got a tiger too! Is there anything your dad won’t let you have?”

“Tiger?” Jon, Colin, and Damian all asked and Kathy pointed off to the side where Maya was slowly approaching the Malayan tiger cub that was stretched out on a large pillow and watching the girl through half-lidded eyes.

“That’s Kelley,” Damian said blankly.

“Aw, you named her after your sister?” Jon said, grinning widely at his best friend.

His best friend scowled at him in return. “She is not my sister.”

“I mean, your dad married her mom. That kind of makes her your sister,” Colin shot back and the scowl was turned on him.

“Does she accept pets or am I about to get my arm ripped off?” Maya asked softly as she sidestepped a little closer to the tiger in a crouch.

“Why would you wait this long to ask?” Kathy huffed.

“Kelley couldn’t rip your arm off if she wanted to,” Damian scoffed and turned back to his brushing.

Like she could understand him, the tiger’s head whipped towards him and she bared her teeth. With a low growl, she shifted onto her feet. Alfred realized what was happening as the tiger started bounding towards the bird-themed vigilante and jumped off Damian’s lap just before he was crushed under a juvenile tiger.

“Get off me! Get off me right now or I will skin you and use your pelt as a rug!” Damian snarled.

Jon considered helping his friend, but the tiger wasn’t doing anything more than licking his hair now that she had him pinned. After a quick use of x-ray vision proved that Damian didn’t actually have any weapons on him for once, Jon decided to leave the older boy to his pet and focus back on Goliath.

“KELLEY!”

“You’re the bestest dragon bat in the world, aren’t you? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”

Plus One ~ Jason

Bruce scowled as he typed away at the computer.

The mission was supposed to be an easy one. Just a quick in and out. But they had gotten just one wrong piece of misinformation and now most of Bruce’s children were lying in the Batcave boasting some form of injury.

Worst of all, Bruce hadn’t been there. He and Selina had been on a date night across the city at the insistence of all the children.

The father paused in his typing to glance around the cave.

Carrie was lying on her pillow in tiger form. Either Tim or Duke had managed to slip a cone around her neck since the last time he’d checked on the kids. Considering the lack of shouting, snarling, growling, or baby roars, Bruce was assuming she was humoring the cone for now. Normally he’d make the boys take it off since it impaired her vision too much for comfort in the cave, but she wouldn’t be running around for a few days and the cone would remind her not to lick at her stitches, something she occasionally forgot while in tiger form.

Speaking of the boys, Bruce could see the cocoon of shadows Tim had wrapped them in on one of the larger infirmary cots. The shadows were meant to help with Tim’s concussion while providing Duke with the darkness he needed to get to sleep. A flaw with Duke’s powers was that it was hard for him to get to sleep in anything but the darkest of rooms, especially after an adrenaline-heavy mission got his photosensitivity at its peak. Normally they’d send him up to rest in his room since Bruce had installed special black-out windows for just this occasion, but Alfred wanted him to remain hooked up to an EKG machine overnight due to an electrical shock he’d received during the mission.

Dick and Damian were on the training mats, though Bruce only knew the former because of the thin, whip-like tail poking out from the mass of feathers to wrap gently around Dick’s leg brace. Otherwise, his youngest was completely hidden within his eldest's wings, bundled up against Dick’s chest to keep the boy from attempting to “train” his recently relocated shoulder “back to form.”

Stephanie was nowhere to be seen, though Damian assured them she’d returned home with the group and the occasional nudging of Bruce’s mug towards the edge of the desk confirmed it. Her bracelet sat next to Bruce, the focusing stone in need of replacement. Thankfully he’d thought ahead and had extras on hand so he’d just need to bring the bracelet to a jeweler friend in the morning to have it set properly.

Cass was curled up in one chair at the meeting table with her legs resting on another as she nibbled at a sandwich with one hand and held an ice pack to her bruised ribs with the other. Her eyes had been closed and she’d looked half-asleep when he’d first looked, but as the sound of a motorcycle reached them through the tunnels, her head perked up.

Bruce turned as his second-eldest arrived. Jason parked the bike and climbed off before pulling his helmet off and looking around. He whistled.

“How’d your mission with the Outlaws go?” Bruce asked.

“Better than the mission these idiots went on, apparently.”

“We got some faulty information. You hurt?”

“Nah. Kory, Artemis, and Biz got to have all the fun this time. Roy and I played sniper. What’s -”

Jason cut off as a black form leaped onto his back. Cass quickly wrapped her arms and legs around him before he could toss her off. Nuzzling into his neck, she cooed, “Big brother!”

“Hey, do I look like a horse!” He huffed, tugging at her arms and legs. Suddenly there was a bird in his place, with a plump body and long legs and neck. He flapped his wings and shook, but Cass had anticipated the change and shifted her grip to compensate.

Bruce smiled at the two, knowing Jason was just putting on a show of being annoyed. It was obvious by the fact he didn’t simply change into pure flames so she’d have nothing to hold onto and the way the feathers around Cass’s chest were alight, the flames rising up to brush against where the ice pack had been resting before.

Phoenixes couldn’t actually heal as some stories stated, but their flames could promote healing and ward off infection. Most importantly, though, they could soothe pains. And despite all his huffing and puffing, Jason hated seeing the people he cared about in pain.

The young man gave one last gentle shake before hissing and stomping off to his and Dick’s nest. He lowered himself down and Cass rolled off his back. She moved around to his front and leaned against the edge of the nest while he draped his neck over her chest. As she began to carefully brush her fingers through the burning feathers on his neck, the feathers on his back lit up once more. From where he was, Bruce could just barely see the faint traces of Stephanie’s face in the flames.

At the same time, Carrie yawned and carefully climbed to her feet before shuffling over and into the nest. She nudged the cone into Jason’s side until he stretched out a wing for her to curl up under.

A moment later, the shadows rose on Jason’s other side and he draped his other wing over them with a click.

Smiling at his children’s antics, Bruce double-checked that Tim had left the shadows open for the EKG machine’s wires then went back to his report.

By the time he looked up again a half-hour later, the ball of near-black feathers had relocated to under Jason's fantail and phoenix flames were covering the whole nest in soothing warmth.

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

Cookie to anyone who actually gets the book-dog reference at the beginning of Dick's part because I've been spending too much time on Youtube.

Funny story about Halo: I was looking up different characters that have been on the Outsiders team to put with Duke and Cass since I accidentally put Katana with the Birds before realizing she's the only other member of their team besides Black Lightning and didn't want her to show up in two parts (I've decided she runs with both teams in this universe). I decided on Looker because she seemed cool then was reading up on Halo. I remembered the character from clips of Young Justice animated and thought they were cool. I wasn't too surprised to see the original character didn't wear a hijab, but I was surprised that Wikipedia uses they/them pronouns for the part talking about YJA's Halo post becoming Halo. I thought the character was nonbinary until I checked the YJA wiki for something and saw it uses only she/her pronouns. I'm pretty sure that means Wikipedia's just being weird, but I decided to make Halo bigender anyways so she uses she/ey pronouns in this universe.

[fanfic-corner]

Wrapped In Red

Merry Christmas, @masterofevilmonkeyness! I’ve really enjoyed writing your secret santa for @destielsecretsanta2020 this year, and it has actually ended up being the longest fic I have ever written!

First of all, here’s the playlist. My friend found some perfect songs for the different scenes, and we had a lot of fun trying to find songs with specific vibes!

Without further ado, here’s the fic. And, if you’d prefer, the link to it on AO3.

{o0o}

“So you’ll do it?” his brother’s voice crackles though Dean’s cracked phone, and he sighs. So yeah, maybe he hasn’t been on a case in a while and has been going slowly insane just hanging around the bunker, but he also doesn’t want to leave Cas alone. Since his grace had faded completely a few days ago, the former angel had hardly left his room, and Dean wasn’t sure what he could do to help.

He rubs his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on simply from this conversation, and replies, “I’ll ask Cas.”

“Okay, text me if you’re going,” Sam responds, the phone making the muffled noises that Dean has learnt means that he is holding his phone on his shoulder, freeing his hands to talk to Eileen.

“Stop worrying, anyway,” Dean tells him, cracking his back as he stands up. “You’re on holiday. Leave the cases for a while, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean slips his phone into his back pocket and wanders down the hallway, so engrossed in his plan to invest in some thick socks because the bunker floor is freezing that he nearly walks straight into Cas. His dark hair sticks up in every direction and he is wearing an old Zeppelin shirt of Dean’s and a pair of Sam’s sweatpants, which look like they are being held up by some kind of miracle. Paired with the bags under his eyes which are so dark that Dean mistakes them for bruises, he could be mistaken for a ghost. 

“Hey, uh,” Dean stutters, not sure what to say. “Sam has a case that I was thinking of going on, but we don’t have to, we can just pass it on to Garth or-”

“I’ll go with you,” Cas interrupts, his voice hoarse and croaky.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t look...great. No offense.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas’ steely blue eyes had always been able to pull off a frighteningly good stare, and Dean just decides to go along with it. It would do them both good to get out of the bunker, in any case.

“Okay,” he agrees, “shall we go in about an hour? That’ll give me enough time to pack for both of us and you enough time to have a shower.”

Cas nods, and they part ways, Dean watching the angel hoist his borrowed pants up and disappear around the corner before shaking his head and fishing his phone out to text Sam.

We’ll take it. Send me the details, setting off in an hour.

{o0o}

Dean had tried his very best to hold a conversation when they set off on the fourteen hour drive, but he had long given up and they were only at the two hour mark. Every question he asked so far had either gone unanswered or had been graced with a monosyllabic response. It was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall. Well, no one could fault him for trying. 

Flicking his wrist out lazily, he turns on the radio without looking with the kind of graceful expertise that only comes from years of driving his baby at night. It takes a full ten seconds for him to realise that the sound of jingle bells is coming from the speakers before he groans. “Nope.”

A surprisingly warm hand shoots out to stop him before he can turn it off, and Dean looks up in surprise at Cas’ imploring face. “Please can we listen to it?”

Considering what the dude had lost recently - and the fact that apparently his puppy eyes are almost as effective as Sam’s - Dean was hardly going to deny him this one thing. He did, however, have one condition. “Okay, I’ll leave it on, but only if you fish out my Christmas mixtape from the box.”

Dean never took his eyes off the road, but he was acutely aware of the way Cas stared at him for a moment before excitedly rummaging through the old box of tapes. Eventually, he pulls it out, admiring the battered stickers and fading drawings that he and Sam had added when they made it all those years ago. Cas gently slides it in and the first few notes of Mariah Carey grace the air.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, grinning wildly. “You, Castiel, are about to be educated in some proper Christmas music.”

By the time the mixtape finishes, they are both in a much better mood, so Dean decides it is probably a good idea to stop for a little bit to get some snacks and some gas. Frowning, Cas informs him that he needs the toilet, before disappearing towards the nasty looking bathroom. Dean can’t help but feel bad for him; as much as he loves being human, he knows it must be annoying to suddenly have the weird experience of a human body. They always seemed to hurt or need something, and he could tell that Cas found the whole thing incredibly repetitive and exasperating.

The gas station is like every other gas station Dean has ever seen; empty, with a layer of grime that seemed to cover everything and the bright lights that ensured that no matter what time of day it was, it always seemed to look the exact same. This one, however, is also covered in Christmas decorations. Glittery tinsel and rainbow paper chains swing from the ceiling, the air conditioning coaxing them into a gentle dance. Fake snow covers every surface, and flashing fairy lights force him to blink and look away. 

Dean moves on autopilot, picking up snacks that Cas hasn’t tried yet and a couple of bottles of water, before reaching the counter. He has to yell to the cashier - who is decked out in a festive jumper and Santa hat - in order to be heard over the deafening Christmas music.

“Here,” she practically sings, disappearing into the back room for a second before reappearing with a ridiculous pair of reindeer antlers. “These are for you, sweetie! No charge. Cheer up, it’s Christmas!”

Dean tries to refuse the antlers, but the lady - Lucy, her name tag reads - is not taking no for an answer, so eventually he gives in, telling himself that it is just so he can leave this Christmas Hell and get back to driving. Cas is waiting for him outside, leaning on the car and watching as the first few flakes of snow start to fall.

Dean hesitates for a moment before offering the antlers to him. Cas just stares at them, his head tilted to one side. Sighing, Dean just steps closer and puts them on Cas’ head, laughing when the bells jingle as he tries to look up at them without taking them off. He slips his phone out and sneaks a picture of the bewildered former angel, hastily putting it away and bundling Cas in the car so that they can set off before the snow gets too bad.

“Why did you give me a pair of fake antlers, Dean?” Cas asks as they set off, turning them over and inspecting them in his hands. Much to Dean’s dismay, they wouldn’t fit in the car. 

“Thought you liked Christmas stuff?” he replies, grinning.

“What do fabric antlers have to do with Christmas?” 

And so, Dean finds himself spending the last leg of the journey attempting to explain Christmas traditions to Cas, who can’t help interrupting and pointing out the real facts, rather than Dean’s Christmas cracker knowledge. They go over Santa and his reindeers (“reindeers can’t fly, Dean”), the birth of Jesus (“I remember Balthazar telling me about that”), and mince pies (“why are they sweet? Mince isn’t supposed to be sweet.”). By the time they arrive Dean is so eager to escape the onslaught of questions that he doesn’t know the answer to, he hits someone with the car door as he gets out.

The actual reason that they have driven into the middle of absolutely nowhere dangerously close to Christmas is because a couple had gone missing last week and hadn’t been seen since. Usually, they would assume that this case wasn’t their kind of thing, but Sam had been asked to check it out by another hunter who knew them (and who apparently had some beef with a ton of shapeshifters), and so here they are..

Dean suggests that FBI agents might be a bit too suspicious for a small town in the middle of nowhere, so instead he and Cas decide to pretend that they are just family visiting them for the weekend. They knock on next door under the pretense of asking for the spare key, and are greeted by possibly the grumpiest people Dean has ever met.

“Fine,” the lady snaps, the half of her face visible from behind the door frowning at them in disgust before turning back into the house. “Harold, get the spare key for next door!”

“Do you happen to know where they have gone?” Dean asks politely, the pleasant smile on his face starting to ache.

“No.”

Cas raises his eyebrows at Dean, before he tries. “When was the last time you saw them?”

The woman huffs impatiently. “Probably when they went to that stupid office Christmas party. We could hear the music from here. It was so inconsiderate.”

“Oh,” Dean replies, sharing a look with Cas. “Where was this party?”

The door opens fully, a man appearing behind the lady - Harold, Dean assumes - who hands the key over to them. “It was those blasted Mitchells.” He turns to his wife, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Did you hear that they are throwing another goddamn party tomorrow, Ann?”

“Thanks for all your help,” Dean interrupts before they can get too carried away. 

“Merry Christmas!” Cas adds, already backing away. 

They speedwalk back across the victims’ house, making sure that the neighbours’ door is shut before they completely break down laughing. Dean can barely open the door, but when he finally manages to correctly align the key in the lock, they both tumble into the front room, shaking uncontrollably.

Dean collapses next to the couch, sliding to the floor. He takes a couple of deep breaths before managing to speak. “Sounds like we’re going to your first Christmas party, Cas.”

{o0o}

After making their way through most of the people in the town, two things have been made very clear. First of all, the last anyone had seen of the victims - Adam and Amelia Knapp - was at their office Christmas party. Which nearly everyone in the town had been at, and yet no one knew anything remotely helpful. Secondly, there was another Christmas party being held tomorrow night by the somewhat popular Mitchell family, and the chances of their mystery monster striking were high, in Dean’s opinion.

The most logical course of action would be for Dean and Cas to pretend to be guests at the party, so they could stop their creature before anyone else went missing and then they could disappear back home in time for Christmas. However, Dean had found that nothing in his life could ever be that simple, so instead he found himself standing in front of a wide array of hats, trying to wrestle a fez away from a former angel of the Lord.

Because of course it had to be a costume party, and just as the icing on the cake, it had to be a couples only costume party.

“Dude,” Dean says, finally managing to wrench the fez from Cas’ iron grip, “if we’re wearing hats, at least try a good hat.”

Dean plops an example on Cas’ head, laughing as it slips over his eyes. “These aren’t Christmassy, Dean.”

“Sure they are,” Dean says, grabbing a hat more in Cas’ size and a matching one for him. He strolls over to the till, grabbing a couple more things on the way. “You’ll see.”

Since they have a few hours to kill before the actual party, Dean decides that they can waste some of the day doing some Christmas shopping, especially after he finds out that Cas hasn’t got any presents yet. He drives them to a nearby mall, throws Cas a handful of notes and his antlers, and gives him strict instructions to buy some presents and then meet Dean in the food court in an hour. 

“Why can’t we do it together?” Cas asks, and Dean could swear he was pouting.

“Because the presents are supposed to be a surprise,” he explains, shooing Cas away with his hands. “Look, I’ll see you in an hour, and if you need anything you can just call me, ‘kay?”

Cas nods and meanders off, disappearing into the crowd without further complaint.

It is nearly ten minutes later, while he is rummaging through some shirts in an attempt to find one in Sam’s size, when Dean realises that this is the first time that Cas has been alone since he lost his grace. A sudden jolt of panic rushes through him, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

Castiel was older than humanity. He had led armies of angels. He had fought against demons and archangels and every monster under the sun. He could handle buying a few Christmas presents.

But, at the same time, Dean can’t help but worry. The dude has questionable social skills at best, and he is still trying to get to grips with his brand new human body. He often has to be reminded to eat or drink water or sleep, and there were several embarrassing occasions in the beginning where he had forgotten entirely.

Dean’s hand itches, his fingers curling towards his back pocket, but he resists the urge to call and check up on Cas. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He tells himself that he should just get his presents for people and then he can meet back up with Cas as soon as possible.

The mall is packed, the usual last rush as people get the last few things they need for Christmas. Conversations and the sound of toddlers crying fight to be heard over the echoing music, festive music adding to the deafening noise. While dodging people, making his way to their meeting place, Dean tries to remember the last time he was in a mall. Certainly not recently - he thinks it may be some time before he met Cas - and he definitely doesn’t remember them making him feel this claustrophobic. The sea of people pushing against him makes him want to throw up, and he finds himself having to duck into the nearest shop to avoid the crowd, shutting his eyes and leaning heavily against a railing.

“Dean?” a deep, familiar voice asks him, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Dean cracks one eye open, laughing when he realises what shop he found Cas in. He knew he should never have introduced him to Hot Topic. “I’m fine, Cas. Just hungry.” he deflects, standing up straight and patting his friend on the shoulder.

Cas gives him a look that says ‘I know you’re lying but I’m going to let you get away with it just this once’ and instead says, “Let me pay for this, and then we can go and get some lunch.”

Not even twenty minutes later, Dean is watching Cas eat a taco for the first time and has completely forgotten that he ever felt bad, because he is laughing too hard to care. Cas looks highly bemused at the stain on his precious trench coat, but Dean thinks that, secretly, he doesn’t mind.

{o0o}

There is no question that they are in the right place when they pull up outside the address they were given a few hours later, if the ridiculous amount of fairy lights and assorted decorations are anything to go by. They can’t help but stare at the blinding display for a moment, before Dean turns to Cas to make sure he remembers the plan. “Okay, so we go in, find our mystery monster-”

“Sam thinks it is a shapeshifter.” Cas interrupts.

“Okay, so we grab this shifter, gank it, grab some food on the way out and then drive home in time for Christmas. You remember the cover story?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dean. We’re the Bassons, and we’re thinking about moving here. Do I need to repeat the rest?”

“Alright then, you ready?” Dean intertwines his fingers with Cas’ - in order to keep their cover, obviously - takes a deep breath, and then opens the door.

A wave of heat rolls out from the crowded house, contrasting with the painfully cold air outside. As they step inside, Dean picks up a delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen, a mixture of turkey and cranberry sauce and mulled wine and gravy. The third thing he notices is the music blaring in from the other room, loud enough that he can feel the vibrations thrum through his body. He laughs when he realises what song it is. Space Cowboy; he couldn’t have picked a more fitting song.

After they had come home from their spontaneous shopping spree, Dean had spent an hour making the perfect couple’s costume. Considering the only supplies he had were ones he had picked up from the dollar store, he was actually pretty impressed with his handiwork. Both him and Cas were wearing their normal fed suits, however, it was the hats that really sold it. Dean had affixed - using an alarming amount of superglue - a strand of purple and blue glittery tinsel to his cowboy hat, and a set of fully functional Christmas lights to Cas’. 

Cas had protested at first - “How are cowboys Christmas related, Dean?” - until he had been convinced by the hidden practicality of it: any weapons they brought with them could be written off as part of the costume. Also, cowboys are awesome. Dean has yet to find someone who can prove him wrong on that point.

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand to get his attention, nodding towards two people who appear to be the hosts of the party. The music shifts into some Christmas classic, and they make their way over so they can start ruling people off the list of suspects.

An hour later, Dean officially decides that he is never attending a Christmas party again. Luckily, they’ve only had to deal with one homophobe, who Dean ‘accidentally’ dropped a whole plate of food on, but that doesn’t mean that none of the other guests are driving him up the wall. It seems that everyone is slightly drunk apart from them, and the only reason Dean hasn’t joined in is because of the dirty looks Cas sends him every time he so much as glances towards the punch bowl. 

It’s the karaoke that does him in. Cas is somewhere (Dean couldn’t tell if he genuinely needed the bathroom, or if that was his attempt at saying he was going to scout the house) and there is a woman wearing a skimpy reindeer outfit and wailing along to Last Christmas. God only knows what caused her to get on top of the table and join in while crying, but Dean suspects the answer includes lots of alcohol and the fact that the man who she had arrived with had disappeared upstairs with an elf some time earlier. Her rendition certainly isn’t going to win any awards.

With Cas not there to see, Dean manages to finish two plastic cups worth of surprisingly nice punch before he can be stopped. Considering the dude has flashing lights on his head, Cas can be remarkably sneaky when he wants to be.

“Dean, I don’t think-”

“Oh, what wonderful costumes!” a woman interrupts, and Dean forces a smile back on his aching face before he turns around to face her, just in time to see wink at him. She is wearing a green dress and is covered in baubles and tinsel, and the man standing next to her is literally wearing a massive cardboard box, wrapped to look like a present. It takes all of Dean’s self control not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Thank you,” Cas says, and Dean wraps an arm around his waist in order to confirm that they are, in fact, a couple. The few times he had touched Castiel, he had been cold; it had felt like touching a corpse. As a human, Cas was like a hot water bottle, and even though the house was boiling, Dean couldn’t help but latch onto him whenever the opportunity arose. 

“I’m Natasha,” the woman continued, staring at Dean in what he had to assume was her version of ‘seductive’ and completely ignoring Cas. “Oh, and this is Cole,” she adds as an afterthought.

Cole also winks at Dean. He has never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he went to Hell. Although, he has also never had both members of a couple separately flirt with him while fake dating someone else.

“I’m Dean, and this is Cas,” he replies, pulling the former angel even closer into him. “My husband.”

“Oh,” Cole says, and Dean doesn’t think he is imagining the disappointed tone.

“Sorry,” Natasha adds, not sounding in any way apologetic. “I didn’t realise you were a couple!”

Dean didn’t think he could make it more obvious, but… if she didn’t believe them, then they might be at risk of blowing their cover. There were already at least seven people who had been avoiding them after the usual weird questions and some not quite realistic ploys to get them to touch a silver coin that they had brought with them. 

“Why’s that?” he asks, and regrets the question almost as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“For starters,” Natasha proclaimed, way too eager for this to end well. “You’ve been standing under mistletoe this whole time and haven’t kissed!”

Dean’s whole body freezes as they both look up, and sure enough, the bastard plastic plant is hanging directly over their heads.

“I didn’t realise,” Cas says, somewhat dazedly.

Dean takes a deep breath - there’s nothing they can do now, not with these nosy, weirdass people watching and waiting and expecting a kiss - and pulls Cas closer, turning to face him so their bodies are pressed together. In the dim lights, the lights on Cas’ hat make his startling blue eyes twinkle like starlight, and Dean wonders how he never saw how gorgeous he was before now. Maybe he had, and it had just been buried along with everything else.

“Dean,” Cas’ low voice rumbles, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Kissing a man is not so different to kissing a woman, and Dean can’t help but notice how much he likes the feeling of Cas’ chapped lips on his own. Something lights up inside him like a firework, and he realises exactly how much he wanted - no, needed this. He feels better than he has in a long time, as if a missing puzzle piece had suddenly slotted into place.

Cas pulls away first, and Dean’s mind suddenly catches up with his body. Holy shit, he just kissed Cas. He barely registers Natasha and Cole walking away, still transfixed by the fact he finds a former angel of the Lord - who is a man - devastatingly handsome.

“Dean. Dean, are you okay?” It is only the feeling of Cas’ body heat leaving him that gets him to look down, absentmindedly fixing the shorter man’s hat.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, choking on the words. “Yeah, I just gotta - I’m just gonna…”

And, like a complete and utter cowardly dick, he walks away.

{o0o}

It has been twenty minutes, so Dean can be fairly certain that Cas isn’t gonna come looking for him. Which is fine. It’s not like he was expecting him to. They only kissed to keep up the pretense, and Dean’s weird behaviour has probably ruined that anyway. It meant nothing.

The problem is that Dean can’t stop thinking about how amazing it had felt to kiss Cas. He had tasted like mulled wine and honey and the promise of a thousand lazy mornings. It had felt like flying and drowning all at once. Dean had never understood when people had described kisses as things that had nothing to do with the act, like earthquakes or lightning or fireworks, but the only way he could explain the ecstasy he had felt when their lips had touch was an act of God.

And that thought only spiraled into another: Dean had kissed an angel of the Lord. An angel. Even though Cas was human now, he still remembered the birth of existence and every word that came out of his mouth was fueled by eons of knowledge and memories and experience. He held himself with a grace that only a true warrior can execute, and to him, Dean must seem so small. How insignificant was he compared to that brilliant man?

Finally, there it is. The real issue. Castiel is a man.

It had taken some time, but Dean had taught himself, eventually, that John Winchester was a terrible parent. In fact, it was generous to call him a parent at all. It was Dean who had raised Sam, raised himself. And, even now, he couldn’t help but fall back into his old mindset, into an old version of Dean who would have done anything for his father’s approval. But, if he is being honest with himself - and, let’s be frank, it’s about time - Castiel was not the first man he had liked. He probably wasn’t even the third. 

In that moment, Dean decides that he doesn’t want to be a coward any longer. If he never expected his life to be a long one, then it is all the more reason to go for what he wants now, rather than later.

Yeah, maybe he’ll lose Cas, but… the possibility of what could await him if Cas does reciprocate is far more frightening than the former angel laughing in his face.

{o0o}

Castiel considers himself very knowledgeable in Dean Winchester’s emotions. He knows exactly how long to avoid Dean after eating a slice of his pie, he knows that he can hold full conversations with just a look, and, as an example, he knows that after their kiss, Dean Winchester was panicking. Badly.

That was fine. Castiel was fine with that. It wasn’t like he had been secretly in love with a man who had repeatedly called him a brother for over ten years. Nothing like that.

Sighing, Cas gently puts his paper plate on the corner of the kitchen table, the food he had been so excited to try half an hour ago now making his stomach roll. He figured that Dean had just needed some air; he would cool down, shove all of his emotions down in true Winchester fashion, and then return and pretend that nothing ever happened. The problem wasn’t just with the fact that Cas would very much be remembering that kiss until the day he died, but that Dean had been a really long time. 

Time moves differently now that he was human. As an angel, everything seemed to move so much faster. There was always something to do, the faint crackling of angel radio like a comforting background noise or a million particles to study. A blink of his eye and a century could have passed, and yet here he is, thirty minutes feeling like an eternity.

It’s by the time Cas has checked every room downstairs that he really starts to worry.

Dean is not in the kitchen stuffing his face, and he is not in the dining room drinking punch, and he is not dancing to the rather annoying upbeat song that is playing in the living room. He is not in the hallway, or on the stairs, or in the bathroom. When Cas starts asking, people give conflicting answers. A bauble saw him go upstairs, a Christmas tree could swear he was in the kitchen, an elf insists that he went outside. 

Since it is the only place he hasn’t checked, Cas heads outside. There, on the floor, is Dean’s stupid hat, the tinsel loose on one side, dangling pathetically into a puddle of melted snow.

Cas immediately calls Sam, who picks up surprisingly quickly. “Cas? What’s up?”

“ImighthavekissedDeanandnowIdon’tknowwhereheis-”

“Cas, slow down,” Sam urges, forcing Cas to take a deep breath before continuing.

“We’re, uh, at a couples’ only party, and we had to kiss and then Dean freaked out but he’s been gone for ages and I think he is in trouble,” Cas says, only marginally slower than before.

“Shit. Okay, send me the address. We’re on our way.”

Sam, Cas thinks as he tries a door handle that he missed before, is excellent at coming up with plans. Maybe it’s the time spent in college, maybe it’s his years of hunting experience, but even over the phone he had pointed out things that Cas had failed to spot. Like, for example, the door to the basement.

Cas turns the phone flashlight on like Dean taught him, the beam still not strong enough to light up the impenetrable darkness. The music fades to a distant hum in the background, becoming distorted and frantic as Cas feels. His eyes have barely adjusted enough to see the familiar but unconscious form on the ground - “Dean?” - before something solid connects with the back of his head, and Cas tumbles forwards, crumpling at the bottom of the stairs.

{o0o}

“Cas?”

Cas groans. When he had finally fallen completely, he had been surprised by how much being human hurts. Something always aches, and everything is so easy to damage. Even the smallest of injuries - a stubbed toe or a papercut - hurts way more than it should.

Apparently, a combination of blunt force trauma to the back of the head and the general bruises one acquires from falling down a flight of stairs hurt a lot more than a stubbed toe.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” A familiar voice asks, and Cas tries to turn his head so that he can see Dean, instead finding out that that particular head movement causes his vision to blur and swim. When he attempts to bring his hands up to survey the damage, he can’t understand why they don't move for a moment, before his brain finally manages to catch up and he remembers the night’s events. 

So, maybe he wasn’t expecting his first kiss with Dean to be followed by being kidnapped and tied up in a basement, but this is a Winchester they are talking about here. 

“Come on, talk to me here.” Dean says, sounding worried.

Cas swallows, aiming to say something to ease Dean’s concern and instead causing a coughing fit. “I’m fine,” he eventually manages to gasp.

Dean snorts. “Sure sound like it.”

They are silent for a moment, the only sounds in the room an echoing drip and Cas’ raspy breaths. Cas isn’t sure how long they have been down there, but since Dean isn’t wriggling about in an attempt to escape, it has probably been long enough that he has already checked whether or not he can untie himself. From what Cas’ fumbling fingers can tell, though, the knots keeping them bound to this stupid pole are very good.

He feels utterly pathetic. He used to be a soldier - he had led armies, fought battles that humans couldn’t even comprehend - and here he was now, entirely useless, taken out by a baseball bat and kept prisoner by a length of rope. If he was still an angel this would have never happened. He could have saved Dean, he would have killed whoever did this, and they would have been back in time to enjoy the end of the party.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, finally breaking the silence.

Dean sighs, and Cas can feel him against his back as his whole body sags down. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do but wait.”

Cas didn’t think he had ever heard Dean give up so easily, and it scared him. “What?”

“I don’t exactly see a way out of this, Cas. I’ve been trying to get these ropes off for half an hour and I think they’re probably just tighter than they were when I started.”

Cas gave an experimental yank, and Dean hissed in pain. Suddenly, the wetness on Cas’ hands made sense. “You’re bleeding, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t reply.

Cas had always thought that his death would be noble. Previously, it had always at least been in battle or a sacrifice, but this was just… pitiful. He was going to die at the hands of some random shapeshifter in someone’s disgusting basement, while wearing a cowboy costume.

“I - uh, I just wanted to say,” Dean starts, sounding unsure, “that I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” he replies, shutting his eyes in an attempt to block out the conversation. If he was going to die, he would rather not be rejected first.

“It was a dick move,” Dean continues, as if he hadn’t heard Cas. “I was just - I mean - I want to say…”

“What, Dean?”

Dean’s voice is barely a whisper. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

Cas’ eyes snap back open, and he hits his head on the pole in his confusion. “You would?”

“You don’t… I thought… I mean, I’m just kid-”

“Shut up,” Cas interrupts, not wanting Dean to panic all over again. “I would like that.”

“Oh. Really? Okay,” Dean replies, and Cas shuffles around until he manages to hold his hand. It’s sticky and wet with blood where Dean’s wrists have been hurt by the ropes, and every aching muscle in Cas’ body screams at the awkward position, but he thinks it might still be the happiest he has ever been.

{o0o}

Dean isn’t sure how long it is until he hears the footsteps on the stairs, but it’s long enough for him to feel much too tired for a fight. Can’t the universe just let him be happy for once? Is it too much to ask to not have to fight tooth and claw for one scrap of peace?

“Well, hello there,” a man’s voice says, and Dean feels Cas stiffen. It sounds oddly familiar, but he can’t quite place his finger on where he would have heard it before.

That is, until a second voice speaks. “What have we got here, Harold?”

The next-door neighbours. The old couple who had been complaining about the parties. Of course the only two people in this godforsaken town who they hadn’t checked were the bad guys. He should have seen it. They should have asked them more questions when they weren’t tied to this stupid pole in this stupid fucking basement.

“A pair of cowboys, Ann,” Harold tuts, and Dean cannot believe he is about to be killed by a weird old couple, of all things. He had prevented the apocalypse at least twice, had defeated God, and yet he was going to be killed by the monster of the week. Who looked like they were about three hundred years old, owned fifty cats and knitted in their spare time.

Ann walks around them, her heels clacking on the stone floor, until she comes to a stop in front of Dean. “What a shame,” she says, looking down at him like he was a stain on her shoe. “I was hoping we’d get a crier. Men rarely cry. Apart from that last fellow, of course.”

Dean’s stomach rolls, and he suddenly regrets eating so many pigs in blankets at the party. 

“What are you?” Cas practically growls, his hand squeezing Dean’s to comfort him.

“Whatever do you mean, son?” Harold asks, and he sounds genuinely confused.

Oh shit, Dean thinks, letting out an amused huff of breath. Great. He isn’t even going to be killed by the monster of the week. He’s gonna be killed by an actual old person.

“Is something funny, sweetie?” Ann demands, frowning.

Dean smiles up at her, deciding that he may as well die how he lived: a snarky bastard. “Sorry, I just can’t believe that I got kidnapped by someone’s grandma.”

Ann steps closer to him, crouching down so she is his height. A sliver of silver reflects in the dim light like a shooting star, slicing downwards and cutting a thin line across Dean’s neck. “Don’t give me cheek, boy.”

“Let’s kill the other one first, sweetheart. Then that rude fella has to watch his boyfriend die.” Harold suggests, spitting out the word ‘boyfriend’ like it physically hurts him.

Dean clutches Cas’ hand tighter, trying not to let the panic that is welling up inside him, cold and merciless, show on his face. He tugs desperately at the ropes around his wrists one more time, hoping for a miracle that he knows isn’t coming.

“Say goodbye, now.” Ann says, and Dean shuts his eyes. He knows that he can’t deal with losing Cas again, even if he’ll be gone soon after. He spares a brief thought wondering where Cas will go when he dies; is he human enough to avoid the Empty? And even so, would he go to Heaven or Hell?

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, because even though he is scared, he knows that Cas deserves to know.

If Cas says anything back, Dean doesn’t hear it over the gunshot.

{o0o}

Dying was not a new experience for Castiel, nor was dying as a human. What was a new experience was the pain he felt in his chest that no bullet or knife could replicate. It was the knowledge that he had the opportunity to be happy and it had been ripped from him. It was knowing that someone loved him and cared for him and was being taken away from him.

When Harold dropped dead instead of Cas, his heart fluttered. Maybe he did have a chance.

“Dean, are you alright?” Sam’s voice calls out, and Cas finally allows himself to relax slightly.

“Sam?” Dean asks, surprise and confusion and relief all mixed together.

Eileen appears from nowhere and stoops down, grinning at Cas and slicing through the ropes. She winks at him but doesn’t say anything, simply helping him to his feet when it becomes obvious he can’t do it by himself. Sam has backed Ann into the corner of the room, his gun pointed at her with an unwavering hand, but Dean whispers something in his ear and he lowers it slightly. He signs something over his shoulder, not even glancing away from the threat, and Eileen rushes off upstairs, essentially shoving the injured Castiel into Dean’s side.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Dean asks gently, wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist to hold him up. His wrists are still bleeding and they are both cold from sitting in a freezing basement for ages, but the simple action fills Cas with a warmness.

“I’ve been in love with you for twelve years, you assbutt,” he mumbles.

Dean smiles down at him, somehow looking charming even covered in dirt and blood, only looking up when Sam clears his throat.

“Look, we should get out of here,” Sam suggests, standing up. He’s tied Ann to the same post that they thought would be their deathbed only a few minutes ago, and he is shooing them towards the stairs back up to the party. “Eileen’s getting someone to call the cops and we don’t wanna be here when they arrive.”

Cas ducks down, for a moment, holding Dean’s hand so he doesn’t completely keel over, and grabs the two hats off the ground. Reaching up, he puts his on before gently placing Dean’s on his head. The tinsel is falling off on one side, the lights have run out of battery, and they are both caked in dirt, but it still makes Dean smile.

“Let’s go home,” Dean says, leaning down and softly kissing Cas.

{o0o}

Much to Dean’s surprise, Sam and Eileen said nothing about his new relationship with Cas. In fact, when he tried to bring it up - he knew Sam had seen them kissing for Christ’s sake - Sam just shook his head and rolled his eyes at Dean. “Jody owes me fifty dollars,” was all he said, and their discussion was over.

Cas didn’t seem too perturbed by the whole situation, and Dean found himself wondering whether it was just him who found their new relationship strange. Not that anything much had changed, for that matter. They both behaved the exact same way, with added kissing. So what if Sam thought Dean was weird for still calling Cas ‘buddy’? He wasn’t the one dating a former angel.

What Dean had decided, after their fun little kidnapping escapade, was that Cas deserved an awesome Christmas. It was his first one as a human, after all, and what kind of boyfriend would Dean be if he didn’t show Cas all the wonders of the holiday season?

And that is how they found themselves turning the drive home into a Christmas road trip.

Cas wore his reindeer antlers wherever possible, and Dean took a million photos of him. On the first day, they visited a Christmas market. Dean thought it was much too busy and annoying, but it was all worth it for the smile Cas had after drinking his first hot chocolate. On the second day, they went to a drive-in movie. Cas gave both the funniest and most irritating running commentary that Dean had ever heard, having to remind him every five minutes that “it’s a romcom, Cas. It’s not supposed to make sense.”

On Christmas Eve, they spent most of the day driving to make sure they got home in time for the dinner that Sam and Eileen had promised. They sang carols at full volume and blasted Christmas songs and Dean taught Cas how to play the air guitar. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he had felt such a sense of freedom and happiness. Maybe it was just a Christmas miracle.

Christmas day rolled around, and it was the nicest Christmas that Dean could remember having. Sam and Eileen had decorated the entire bunker with tinsel and streamers, and had even managed to bring in a huge tree from outside. So maybe not all the decorations on it were technically Christmas related, but the silver bullets were shiny and although no one was quite sure what the pentagram they were using a star on the top did, it looked pretty cool.

By the evening, they had eaten enough food to feed twenty people for a week and had exchanged presents. Sam was sitting at the table with his new fancy pens, Eileen had disappeared to take a shower with her new soaps, and Cas and Dean were firmly planted on the couch. Cas’ new fuzzy socks were warm and ticklish against Dean’s feet, and the angel was a surprisingly good cuddler. 

All of a sudden, Dean sat up, dragging Cas with him. “Come on, dude. We should dance.”

Cas snorted but agreed, wrapping his arms around Dean tightly. They swayed slowly to the music, his head on Cas’ shoulder, gently singing along to the slow music.

Now you hang from my lips

Like the Gardens of Babylon

With your boots beneath my bed

Forever is the sweetest con.

Dean’s mouth twists into a smile. “I could spend forever with you,” he whispers, and he leans down to kiss his angel again.