#now please can we put a pause on the guests for awhile

[petrovna-zamo]

This was so sweet

[bolontiku]

"Chasing Pumpkin"

Chapter 1

Characters: Syverson x Reader

Posted: Sept 17th

A/N: this was a work drabble but... anywhooo, I put reader there but the more I worked on this the more OC she got, so I nicknamed her Pumpkin.

There will be at least one update (when idk) but I couldn't get this out of my head for the last week and am now shoving it into yalls faces. Idk where this came from I'm sorry.

Hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, smut (it happens), no under 18 please, there is fluff, surprisingly no angst.. hints at a bad past relationship.

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

"We have a problem."

The small crowd of men turned to the best man, well second chosen, first having been Syverson himself but he had politely declined knowing the groom's brother had been expecting to get the part.

They waited for the kid to speak, Syv motioning for him to continue, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up; he was ready to finish the night.

"There are wedding crashers."

"What?" The men groaned, discussing over each other until he cleared his throat. "Let's not make a scene, Heather would be disappointed and it's her day, which is almost over, the worst they can do is show up in a few pictures and steal some of the free booze and we all know Davidson's dad is footing the bill for that so-" he shrugged broad shoulders and met the gazes of the five men around him. "Damage control, just make sure nothing goes awry."

The men nodded, maybe that was asking for a bit much from this crowd. They had all served together and he knew they were a bit too close to ask they not get in trouble much less keep complete strangers from causing trouble, they were also a little past drunk, fuck he had had his fair share, leading him to shed his jacket somewhere along the night, but most of the men had after the main ceremony.

The wedding was in the mountains, the venue was huge and it being a vacation spot meant they were not the only ones on the grounds but the hotel had been primarily booked by the family and guests of both bride and groom. There had been a few rooms left though. Everything had been rented and decked out, he himself had managed to get one of the cabins skirting the lake, more comfort and privacy. There were only two days left for the guests to unwind once Heather and Gregory left for their honeymoon tonight.

Civi life was nice, he thought. He was still looking for a place to call home, his dad kept his room available and had gotten him a temporary place at his job. It worked but Syverson still felt as if something was missing…

The fact that he and some of his men stayed in touch was nice too. And then there had been the phone call and invite by Gregory Davidson. Heather was a sweet thing, Syv had nearly carried her off himself. Inviting smile, light chestnut hair, she could not keep her eyes off the idiot that he had saved too many times out in that godforsaken land.

It was good.

The 'crashers' were easy enough to spot, aside from the bride's family, anyone not in the military was easy to spot. Gregory's family had all served. Syverson figured they were vacationing in the same area and probably came upon the end of the party, a small group of four girls that ended up in the mix of dancers, they almost passed for the occasion. Syverson smirked, he had met plenty of girls like them while on leave, harmless really. Yet he spotted one off to the side of the dance floor, watching, and he found himself watching her in turn. Eyes drifting down her full figure and pausing on her ample hips, he let out a low sigh bordering on a growl, what fun he could have with a woman like that.

*

It had been awhile.

Since you had egged them on, really it had been months of being a responsible adult, buckling down and working. After everything that had happened with your ex you started all over again, moving out of your apartment into a small house and beginning all over again. You had basically disappeared from your friend group and found excuses that were barely passing plausible to not go out.

The fact that you had managed to wrangle time off from work was a fucking miracle, you had told them it wouldn't be possible, to not expect you. They in turn said you no longer loved them. You knew they were bluffing, alligator tears, saying they would never forgive you… you had threatened to quit if your manager didn't give you the time off.

And that is how you found yourself deep in the mountains by a pretty lake. It was your friends' hesitancy though that made you tug them towards the dance music. You couldn't remember the last time you had danced, the girls took after you, quickly joining in on the dance floor. Yet, once they joined, you took a step out, easily falling into the crowd outside and watching them. You guessed it was a wedding once you had taken time to breathe and were grateful no one had spotted you, the men quickly took up with the girls and you kept an eye on them to make sure they didn't get into trouble.

Syverson smiled, arms crossed over his impressive chest; he watched as you leaned forward, eyes bright as the bride leaned into her new husband, he was positive you were a complete stranger yet you looked absolutely overjoyed for his friends, he supposed weddings did that to a person. He didn't know where you came from but he found you absolutely adorable. Making his way to stand beside you he was surprised that you didn't automatically turn to him, he stepped a bit closer, pumpkin. You smelled like pumpkins and vanilla, an odd mixture, but not in a bad way, you smelled good enough to eat.

"Not your scene?"

You nearly leapt out of your skin at the low sultry southern voice next to you. Glancing over you found a broad chest at your eye level and craned your head back to meet the most vibrant blue eyes you had ever had the privilege of meeting. This one was trouble. Your heart skipped and you swung your gaze back to your friends, biting your bottom lip, you had been found out. Of course you had, the girls were dressed well enough to pass, you had gone for comfy jeans and a top that was barely dressy, if you squinted.

"I had a dance," you answered with a shrug of your shoulder.

Syverson hummed, a little curious at your reaction, he liked the southern in your voice but it seemed out of place, not Texan. Maybe you knew he knew you didn't belong? "Friends of the bride or groom?"

You sucked at lying. "I used to date the groom's brother…?"

Syverson nearly lost his composure, coughing to cover his half escaped laugh. Joshua was nearly married to his partner Liam. "Ahh."

You nodded pleased with your lie, glad there was a brother. "Well," you nodded at the couple that were currently waving their goodbyes and escaping the crowd that rushed to see them off. "That is my cue to get on to bed," you would have to text the girls and remind them to check in with you to assure they got back to their rooms safely.

Large hands caught at you and your eyebrows rose as you stared up at the man, Jesus, he was absolute sin on legs… long thick legs, with a thick solid massive body to go with it. Though to be fair most of the men in attendance were fit enough to tackle a bear in these woods and survive to tell the tale. Dark hair that curled, seemingly just growing out, a carefully trimmed and maintained beard, the way he carried himself screamed military. Yet it was his flash of teeth that caught your attention, a mischievous smile, you swallowed as you caught sight of sharp canines. Your will to leave wavered. If you stayed it would be so much trouble.

"You can't leave? It's early yet and I haven't had a dance."

You frowned at him, "there is no way you ain't gotta date."

Syverson smirked down at you, "you confident about that pumpkin?" Oh, the way you looked away, your bottom lip disappearing between your teeth, he was enjoying himself knowing that you wanted nothing but to escape. He gave you no choice, wrapping a large hand around your waist and leading you on the dance floor.

He knew the men were watching, there had been a few offers and he had obliged but had yet to approach anyone. They had teased him and it had ended with a small warning growl from him, the guys laughing, but he couldn't let you escape. Not before he got a taste.

The dance floor had become crowded yet again now that the bride and groom were off, so he tugged you in close as the music continued, fast paced and loud. He was slightly surprised at how quick you were to keep up, following his lead and laughing when he intentionally tugged you closer. Your hands were small in his, you had to stretch on your toes when he pulled them over his shoulders and he still dipped low, easily leading you through the dances.

His smile was brilliant, cologne a little intoxicating, he smelled like woods and whiskey. You could barely keep his intense gaze, it helped that he was a bit taller, fine- much taller. And you took advantage when the movement changed and slid your hands down his broad muscular back, dropping them to his waist before he dragged you in front of him, one thick thigh pressing between yours as he swayed his hips against yours and you felt your face heat as he grinned at you.

It was a good while before the tempo slowed and you nearly escaped him, hurrying from the floor towards the open bar.

Hecaught you glancing around and frowned, "lose somebody?"

You shook your head, "I mean, my friends that came, but I don't have a date."

He leaned against the bar, "is that so?"

The way he dropped his head to the side, bright eyes softening as he looked at you made you feel things you weren't ready to feel. The bartender slid your order towards you and you smiled into your drink as he served your new friend a whiskey. "Syverson, though most call me Syv."

You blinked, a little surprised you hadn't even asked yet and introduced yourself in return. "I should be getting back-"

"Let me walk you then," he offered, straightening and tucking your arm in the crook of his giving you no chance to deny him. Although being beside him made you feel tiny, it was a feeling you rarely got to relish in and you took it, feeling a bit greedy.

You let him lead you from the crowded area, a few of his friends shouting at him as he waved them off. You found yourself talking as you walked, a nervous habit, the cabins had been taken for the day so your group had to find rooms in the hotel, but in the morning you would be headed out for them. You and your friends lived two hours away and just needed the time to get away, this had been perfect.

"Then you're here for the weekend with them?" You kept silent knowing your answer would oust you, "nothing to be worried about you and your friends are safe."

"What gave me away?"

"Joshua is dating Liam three years now," he answered honestly without pause, looking up at the night sky. Not like home, but damn near close enough. He liked your voice, the calm you seemed to radiate seeped into him.

You couldn't help but laugh at his answer, eyes closing as you held onto him to keep from tripping over your own feet. You snorted and laughed a little harder.

Syverson stopped and couldn't help but laugh along with you, your laughter contagious.

"I- it's jus-" you shook your head and wiped at the tears that escaped. "Of COURSE!" You paused when he reached up and swiped his thumb over your cheek, hand cupping your jaw. You reached up and caught his wrist, your gaze held by his mesmerizing one, you scrambled for a change in conversation. "You haven't told me anything, what do you do? You're no longer in the military huh?"

He tilted his head and pursed his lips, you had a habit of doing that, steering the conversation away as if you were trying to keep him at arm's length, it made him want. He wanted to listen to you go on about your friends and your work, listen to the way you sighed softly while holding onto his forearm. Watch the way your eyes crinkled at the edges as if you laughed all the time, but it seemed that it had been awhile since you'd had the opportunity to do just that. He wanted to give you that, he wanted to give you more than that. "Be honest, you the leader of your little girl group?"

"I take offense to that sir! We are women!"

Syverson watched as you pulled away and placed your hands on your thick hips right before pointing at him, he liked your hips, he liked dancing and having your hips sway and grind against his. Actually he liked all your thick curves, especially when they were pressed up against him, all that softness begging to be kissed and nipped at. He wondered if he could coax you back there? Get you to do that a little more. "You didn't answer…"

The way his voice dropped, admonishing you, he must have figured you out. You smiled at him taking a step back as he stepped towards you, the wooden planks beneath your feet shifting as the two of you moved, "where have you brought me? I thought you were walking me back to the hotel? Are you a serial killer?" You asked, narrowing your eyes at him accusingly.

"Just now wondering about that?" He watched your eyes flicker around, though you tucked your arms behind you, "no, I am not a serial killer." He had just wanted to listen to you talk some more.

"A serial killer would deny it."

"Any experienced killer would know to not let anyone see us leave together. And didn't you text with your friends not a second ago?"

You huffed and turned away from him, the lake spread out in front of you, the narrow boardwalk opening up to a small dock and noticing the two of you were truly alone you decided to change tactics. He was someone you could end up liking and that made him dangerous. You toed your shoes off, "let's have some fun," it would be fun and you could keep from answering anymore questions.

You were steering the conversation to what made you feel safe, he had figured that much out. You talked about things and people in your life but not yourself. It both drew him in and irritated him and he had known you for less than two hours. "Something fun?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded, smirking at him. "Yes, it's my vacation and I am allowed to do something fun, maybe a little bad."

"Is it a vacation if you live here?"

You huffed, hands going to your jeans, you watched those bright eyes widen before he looked around. "I might live in the state but I work hard and hardly play, it's time I think."

"By skinny dipping?" He could hardly speak when your jeans dropped to the wooden planks underfoot, pretty dark red lace panties making his mouth go dry and he took a step toward you, fingers itching to touch.

"Skinny dippin'?" You shot the word back at him, the spot was secluded enough, you reached down and pulled the bottom of your shirt up and over your head, skin pimpling at the cool breeze and not the way those bright eyes darkened, "that what they call it? Back home it was called chunky dunkin'," you stopped, standing before him in your skimpy underclothes, watching the way those bright eyes darkened and dilated, he had turned into a predator spotting his prey.

This you could work with, this was more natural than any other feeling in the world. Pure physical reaction, you didn't need him looking at you softly, but this way? Hunger in his eyes as they scanned down your body before jerking back up? This was comfortable and empowering all wrapped up together and this was addicting.

His heart skipped as you reached back, tongue peaking out quickly as your bra came off next, it took him all of five seconds to get undressed, by the time he managed to nearly strangle himself with his damned dress shirt you were in the water, panties laying next to your discarded clothes. "Holy fuck," he breathed out, you were a dangerous woman, before stepping off the dock into the dark water.

You cried out as his larger body crashed into yours, warmth chasing away the cold of the lake as you wrapped yourself around him; thick corded muscles under your fingertips as he tugged you into him, lips searching for yours. You let him, your own answering his demands, giving in with a small bite.

He growled, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before swiping his tongue over it, licking in and swallowing the soft gasp that left you. You were so damned soft, with a quiet wildness that he had peeked as he had slowly begun to know you, dragging a few secrets out of you. There was no way in hell he was going to let you get away.

You squeaked as he gripped your ass in one large hand, laughter spilling out of you as he kissed just under your chin. "Gettin' a little frisky aren't we soldier?"

"No longer in the service remember? And I will take what you are willing to give, no more than allowed ma'am, just say the word and I'll behave."

"Behave? Now where's the fun in behavin'?" You asked as you pulled back, staying in his hold, just enough to meet his mesmerizing gaze.

He leaned in, giving you ample time to pull away, you hesitated, fingers curling on his shoulders. There was something there, the way you held yourself in his arms, a hesitancy, he recognized it. There was pain and distrust you hid behind a practiced smile, the way you kept things lighthearted, "ah, pumpkin, you can trust yourself with me…"

The sincerity cut through, making your throat tighten, you wanted to believe him, there was something in him that broke through your carefully constructed walls. "It's deeper than I thought-" you whispered against his lips, allowing a little vulnerability to show through. It wasn't a lie, swimming wasn't your strong suit and you had come out further than you had anticipated, but that wasn't really what you meant.

It was the most honest you had been with him and he wanted nothing more than to protect you, from whatever or whomever had hurt you before. He wanted you to know that with him you wouldn't need to be afraid. "Just hold on to me."

You whimpered as he crashed his lips against yours, hands slipping up into the curls at the nape of his neck, curls that were just growing back. You let him drag you closer, kissing him as fiercely as he did you. Dropping your hips, pressing closer to him and smiling against his lips as he grunted softly, feeling him press up along you.

"Fuck sweetheart-"

"Kinda hoping for that," you dropped your head to his shoulder as he laughed, rich thick laughter, which carried across the water.

"Then hold on good." It was his idea of a warning.

You couldn't help the moan that escaped you as he pressed into you without hesitation, large hands on your hips guiding you, urging you to take what you wanted as he pressed hungry kisses to your shoulder and neck, teeth marking your skin, you were tight around his cock, skin warm against his own, your chest pressed against his, nails dragging into his back as you drove your hips into his, taking him deeper.

He cursed as he watched your eyes flutter shut, attempting to stifle any noise by biting your bottom lip, brows drawing together in concentration. You were quite simply intoxicating, he was drunk on every little breath and whimper that escaped you, the feel of you as he pressed in and dragged out achingly slow and addicting. Better than any whiskey he had ever imbibed, you laughed softly, it turned into a delicious moan that he swallowed as he quickened the pace before reaching down between the two of you.

The moment his thumb swiped over your sensitive nub your grip tightened, legs tensing up as fire lit through your veins, you muffled your cry by biting down on his shoulder.

It drove him over the edge, your stifled cry, the way you tightened around him even more, body coiling and tensing as he drove in, seating himself completely with every thrust into you until he came, buried deep inside you.

He got you back to the dock, a little miffed as he pulled out and kept his eyes on you as the both of you dragged on your clothes. It took little to persuade you to come back to his cabin, closer than the hotel, where he was quick to tug your clothes back off.

There was his intense gaze as he pressed you gently into the warm bed, eyes locked on yours as he knelt between your legs and dragged his tongue through your folds slow and torturous. You dropped your head back, hands curling in the bedding as he continued, his beard burning into the skin of your thighs, a surprised cry escaping you as he drove two thick fingers into you, your hips twisting and jerking up, seeking more.

Fuck he was damned hard as you writhed under him, chest rising and falling as he took his time, dragging deliscious moans out of you. Your hips bucked up and Syverson planted one large hand on your tummy to hold you in place until you let go and came undone, body going limp. It wasn't until then that he crawled over you and pressed his thick cock into you slowly, filling you inch by impossible inch.

He watched as your eyes darkened, pressed kisses to your lips as you whimpered and pulled your arms around his neck as he finally seated himself completely in you.

"Syverson! Ahhnnngh!" You met his gaze, eyes unfocused as he pulled out and slowly drove in one hand dragging your leg around his waist as he groaned softly above you. You lifted your hips to meet his, his cock stretching you impossible wide, his thighs pressing up into the back of yours and forcing your legs open wide, tongue seeking yours as he planted himself so deep you were a little afraid you wouldn't be able to escape him.

He wanted you, more than just tonight, he wanted your little gasps, your moans, the way you smiled so softly. He wanted to wake up to the smell of pumpkin and vanilla, listen to you laugh and learn everything there was to know about you; so he drove in a little rougher, kissed a little harder, he wanted to imprint himself in your heart so that if you disappeared there would be no other, but he had another few days with you. He had been planning on leaving after tonight, but then you had come along.

"Syverson?" You gasped, tightening your legs around his waist and he knew with one look you were close again.

"Atta girl, that's right, need you to come all over my cock sweetheart." And you did, his low groan fueling the fire within you, your walls clenching down on him. It took him a few more thrusts, before he came, pulling out reluctantly and only when he was soft before dropping to the bed beside you.

He pulled you in close, you wrapped around him dropping your head to his shoulder, "glad you decided to crash the wedding…" he hummed, eyes closing with the weight of exhaustion.

You laughed softly, "me too," you answered, watching as he drifted off to sleep. You laid there enjoying the delicious burn between your legs, you would be sore for a couple days, and you hadn't planned this. It had been so long you had gotten carried away and it would be a good memory.

The bed barely shifted when you moved, yet a big beefy arm wrapped around you and Syverson dragged you back against him, beard scratching your sensitive skin, voice low and gravely, "mmmnn, stay, don't go, stay here pumpkin."

You tensed, heat hammering against your ribcage. Pumpkin. He had called you that a few times already.

"It'll be okay, I promise…"

He was dangerous. You had known it. The way he watched you, his smile, how he kept you close, it was all dangerous and you had kept yourself safe for so long. You took a moment, leaning back into him, savoring the warmth radiating from him, reaching back and running your fingers through his beard.

But you had to keep protecting yourself, slipping out from under him proved a little tricky but you managed, whispering that you had to use the restroom, you studied him as you dressed quietly memorizing his face, and then you slipped out the door.

[sunny-day-dream]

Ooh I love angst too ngl.. please give us the angstiest HCs for djmm and sun abd moon, thanks in advance xoxo

Ohhh you want angst? We can do that here.

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts/actions, lots of hurt and no comfort.

You've been warned.

--

DJMM

🎶 He doesn't get as many upgrades as the other animatronics (if any at all) and the pizzaplex is trying to phase him out for a newer model that guest will find more appealing. There's currently a countdown on your relationship, though neither of you know it yet.

(It's probably for the best, at least this way you can enjoy the time you have left together without him trying to pull away from you to spare you any pain.)

🎶 Due to issues with his last upgrade, he's unable to speak. He can if he really pushes himself, though it's very painful and damaging to his body. The first and last time you ever heard him speak, it was a garbled, noise filled "-l̷̜̝̲̾́̇o̶̥̍̂͝v̵̦͆e̴͇̔͝ ̸̫̤͇͂͒̌y̷͇̏o̴̟̟̅û̷͉̌͗-" Before he shut down due to overheating and the tax it put on his already under-repaired body.

🎶 He could probably push himself to do it again, and has tried, but you stop him every time, telling him once was enough and that you don't want him to break himself just to tell you something you already know. He's determined though, and thinks you deserve to have at least a partially normal relationship.

🎶 Once (towards the end) when reaching out to grab you, he accidentally knocked you off his stage and was unable to catch you in time. You only got minorly hurt (a few bumps and bruises) but he's refused to make a move to pick you up since, and goes still as a stone when you get close to him in fear of hurting you again. He just watches you sadly, wanting nothing more than to be able to hold you in a form closer to your own size- one he couldn't crush you in.

🎶 Speaking of holding you and being close- Just seeing other couples kiss is enough to almost make this man sob. He wants so badly to be able to express his love for you properly. To be able to kiss you breathless, to hold you tightly in his arms and bury his face in you hair. To make love to you and worship your body.

(If you try and bring up alternatives for this, or try and tell him how you don't mind- he knows. But he minds. He craves that intimacy)

🎶 One day after work, you head onto the dancefloor to go and see him- Only to find the stage empty and a poster advertising their newer model that'll be arriving in a few months. Pray as you might, it's not his AI in the body, and you never see him again.

🎶 (When you check your phone later, all you have is one voicemail that was set to be sent to you on a delay. You have it saved and listen to the distorted "I̵̺͗ ̸͈͑l̶̺̆o̵͝ͅv̴̗͆ḛ̷̏ ̶̞̍ y̷̦̏o̷̥͋ȗ̴͎ ̵̪͐(̵̅ͅy̷̰̿/̸̦̐n̶̖͋)̵̡̀,̵̂ ̵̲̒p̶̞̌l̷̯̈ĕ̷̗ả̸͇š̷͕e̸̜̓ b̸̜͋ę̵̕ ̵͖̆s̷̩̏a̸̮͌f̴̡͆e̸̦͝ ̴̞̕.̶̰̌" every night before bed.)

(It's the only time you'll ever be able to feel close to him again.)

(His last thoughts were of you as he sent it, watching the staff prep the room for his decommission.)

--

Sun/Moon

🌗 The first time they get overstimulated/heated and glitch out around you, you panic and try to step in to help. You end up with a scar on your arm, and they NEVER forgive themselves for it. Moon always hesitates to touch you now. It's not super noticeable, but if you know what to look for, you'll see his hands pause before they touch your body.

Sun just gets teary and quiet when he sees it, so you have to wear long sleeve shirts to keep his attention away from the mark.

🌗 The first time they tell you that they love you, one of the other staff members overhears and laughs at them. You have to spend weeks reassuring them that you find them attractive and that they don't need to be a human for you to love them. That you do, in fact, love them too.

They think you're humouring them for awhile, but you do eventually convince them otherwise.

🌗 (Still though, they're never as affectionate in public as they once were. And they'll have a sad look on their faces when they see love confessions in movies or books.)

🌗 As time passes by, they'll either try and distance themselves from you, or become a depressed mess and cling to your every move. You're unsure why, and it stops soon after- you do notice that it comes and goes every few months in waves.

(Someone finally told them about how you'll pass on one day and leave them forever. They don't know what to do about that. Won't admit that there is nothing they can do about it until it's too late to process)

🌗 When you do pass away though, for any reason? They'll follow very soon after. They don't want to live in a world without you, they utterly refuse to. If you've had children (adopted or born), they'll try and hold out for them- but all they see when they look at your child is you and they just. can't. do. it.

(They do so next to your grave, the one place they haven't left since you were lowered inside)

(They had to be by your side, what if you needed them?)

[ventitititi]

Welcoming genshin characters to your teapot

A/n: just something i think about a lot, living together with your favs in your little pocket realm. I can imagine how flabbergasted some would be when you tell them to jump in your teapot😂

I'm envisioning the emerald peak layout btw

Childe

-Probably thinks you've got a few screws loose from all the spars you guys have had the first time you cheerfully announce that you want him to get into a teapot with you.

- stares at you, dumbfounded and tilting his head at the teapot in your hands.

"so you want me to enter this...?"

- you nod enthusiastically, excited to give him a place to stay and grow your bond together.

"uhm... Traveller, are you sure you didn't hit your head too hard?"

- that's your cue to begin explaining whats going on, and finally a look of understanding takes over childes face, before he finally shrugs and says:

"well, here goes nothing."

- andddd big surprise! Your now outside your mansion, weather mild and the garden to your right.

"woah, you weren't kidding..."

- you bring him inside to show him around, bringing him to his own room before introducing him to the myriad of training equipments you have on another mountain.

-all in all, very impressed and more than happy to spend more time around you. The training gear is just a bonus, he promises.

"a beautiful home, traveler, i hope I'm not intruding too much."

Zhongli

- of course he's already familiar with the concept, but pauses to admire the teapot itself for a moment. He thinks you chose well, the artwork done in a traditional liyuen fashion.

"before we enter, i must say you have excellent taste, traveller."

-looks at your garden outside the mansion in appreciation, noting the small tea table with a smile.

- as you tour the inside, he can't help but notice you tailored his room to his tastes, antique yet elegant furniture making up most of the decor.

- is pleased by the landscaping you've done outside, making note to invite you for a walk one time. He's sure you know the area like the back of your hand, but the eternal pleasant weather coupled with company is too tempting an offer.

-all in all, will probably occasionally bring up some antique he thinks you may like, but enjoys the calm atmosphere and is more than happy to stay awhile.

"thank you, traveler, I'll be sure to stay awhile yet."

Diluc

- Another one who's extremely confused and probably also starts to think your a little crazy, too polite to comment on it though

- much to his relief you do begin to explain when you notice the odd look on his face, and with a little hesitation he's quick to enter your domain

- pleasantly surprised when he sees grape vines growing around your mansion, and even more pleased when he learns you put them around for him

- he's definitely going to examine these grapes later, might even make a special wine named after you

- finds the location to be relaxing, as theres no risk of unwanted guests *cough* kaeya *cough* since you have to approve any who try to enter

- uses the space to get away from work when he can, relaxing into his seat when he does arrive.

"thank you, traveler, for this opportunity."

Kaeya

- Also confused, not afraid to outright call you crazy.

"uhm traveller, i think you've worked yourself to insanity..."

- nods along to your explanation before touching the teapot midway

-did NOT expect to show up in some random mountain range in front of a mansion

- next thing he knows your appearing next to him, a little breathless and frantically trying to ascertain he's alright.

"I'm fine, y/n. In fact, i think your more frazzled than i am."

- thinks about how he could hold this over dilucs head when he gets back, i mean c'mon, surely not EVERYONE was granted this opportunity.

- low key drinks alchohol out of your tea set, not in an attempt to get drunk or anything he literally just can't find anything else and didn't want to be caught with the bottle.

- hangs around quite often, and compliments your decor choice for his room.

"you know me quite well, it seems."

[curlynerd]

Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas’ smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

[littlemrcaprisun]

TW: brief mentions of miscarriage

(This is a rewrite of an old fic from a previous ship and I just changed the names and POV so if there are errors in that... well sorry.)

Despite all of the odds and challenges that face you, you both decide to go through with having a baby. It takes months to see results, whether it be the it just not working or it working and ending in heartbreak. You’re about to give up on the dream when the fifth pregnancy makes it past the first trimester and halfway through the second. You decide to tell your family and friends, well Alcina does. You only tell your parents and it goes over just as well as expected: poorly. Your parents still aren’t happy with the fact that their child left their husband, the rich doctor with the hefty salary, for another woman twice their age. While they have grown to love and accept Alcina, and your newfound sexuality, a baby announcement was the last thing they wanted to hear out of your mouth. You don't tell Alcina about their reaction for a long time, after all stress is the last thing she needs right now considering how this whole process has gone so far. What you can’t afford is stress risking this precious thing they’ve fought so hard to build. However, Alcina catches on quickly and confronts you about why you’ve been so quiet and reserved lately, especially where the baby is concerned.

“I’m just… I’m… processing.” You shrug after dinner one evening as Alcina helps you get ready for bed. Alcina furrows her brow and stops to turn to you.

“A-are you having regrets?” Alcina asks quietly, her hand flying to your belly immediately. You are barely showing but still enough to be noticeably pregnant and the palm of her hand wraps perfectly around the swell of your bump.

“Oh, no. God, no.” You look up to Alcina , fervently shaking your head. “Never.” You pull Alcina’s chin down to look into your eyes and you make sure Alcina can feel the sincerity burn through her eyes

“Then, please, tell me what’s really wrong.” Alcina carefully lowers both of you onto the bed, just to be precautious. Your belly barely protrudes through your hoodie as you lay back against the pillows, but it’s enough that Alcina can see it and she can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

“It’s just my parents… they aren’t very supportive yet… of the baby, I mean.” You admit and sit up on the edge of the bed. You lean back and brace yourself on your hands and try to focus your energy into not crying. Alcina pulls you toward her until you are comfortable and she is lying between her legs, ear pressed to belly. You feel yourself relax almost instantly as she feels the warmth coming from you and the life growing inside you.

“I know your parents’ opinion means the entire world to you, but… I don’t know.” Alcina sighs. “I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make you feel better about it. We’ve just fought so hard to get to where we are now and I hate the thought that you might… that you might regret it.”

You lift your head and place a hand on Alcina’s cheek and another on your belly. “I don’t regret anything… I just wish this were easier.”

“So do I. I am terrified I am gonna wake up and this is all going to be over. I couldn’t take it if… if…” Alcina chokes on her words before she can finish her sentence. You try to comfort Alcina and tell her everything is going to be okay but she shakes her head, recomposes herself, and speaks again. “You are six months pregnant. You’re in the ‘safe zone,’ but I can’t let myself believe it’s real. I don’t want to know if it’s a boy or a girl, I don’t want to name it, I don’t want to build a nursery. I don’t want to accept that we’re going to have a baby because I don’t believe that we’re going to have a baby… I’m sorry this isn’t even relevant. It just kind of came out. I’m just so scared of losing this one too.”

———

“Cina... I’m having some regrets.” You whisper, your voice seeming to go on forever in the cool dark room. Alcina shifts next to you in bed and opens an eye.

“What’s wrong?” She asks and when she rolls over she feels the cool damp surface beneath her hip. Immediately, she jumps out of bed and flips on the light. You both cringe at the brightness but quickly adjust and the sight before you comes into focus. You are lying on your back, clutching your belly and your hip, the white sheet around you has turned grey from the water surrounding your bottom. “I-is it time?”

“I think so.” You nod, smiling widely. You’ve had a few contractions since your water broke and you didn’t find them to be that painful, however the ones that follow aren’t such a breeze. As Alcina is helping you out of the bed, so she can change the sheets, you have another contraction. You let out a quiet cry and lean over the side of the bed. “Time it, time it!” You yelp between heavy breaths. Alcina is quick to start counting before she can get your phone out to use the app the midwife recommended to both of you. Within a few minutes, you are back to normal and standing up right.

Alcina sets to work “birth-proofing” the bed by taking off the wet sheets, putting down new ones, placing waterproof shower curtains, then places not so new sheets over top of that. You, meanwhile, make your way out of the bedroom, down the hall, and to the guest room, where your mother, who had finally started to come around, has been camping out for the past four weeks in anticipation for the arrival of her first grandchild.

“Mom…” You whisper hesitantly, anxious about waking your mother up in the middle of the night despite the situation at hand. “Mama, my water broke.”

She doesn’t move and you panic for a moment, unsure of what to do, when you hear her mother’s voice. “Are you in labor?”

“I’m having contractions.” You bite your lip. “They’re about 30 minutes apart.” And with that your mother sits up and switches her bedside lamp on. She climbs out of bed and rushes over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“What can I do for you, sunshine?”

“I’m okay for now, I just want to get back to bed before I have another contraction.” She helps you back down the hall towards the bedroom but before you can make it, you have to stop and brace yourself against the wall. “Fuck.” You curse as this contraction takes hold and all you can think about is counting how long it lasts. Your mother stands behind you and gently massages your upper back in an attempt to calm you. Alcina hurries out of your bedroom to your aide.

“Don’t worry I started the timer for this one.” Alcina leans against the wall next to you and runs her hand through your hair, but you stop her by grabbing her hand and squeezing. “You’re at 17 seconds, darling. You can do this.” Alcina assures you. 25 more seconds pass before you are able to relax again.

“When are we supposed to call the midwife?” Your mother asks.

“They told us when the contractions are about 5 minutes apart, so I think we have awhile.” Alcina explains and you huff.

“This is going to be a long night.” You murmur as you check the time on the wall clock. “It’s 2:10 am and this has already been going on for about 2 hours since my water first broke.”

“It took you a whole hour to wake me up?” Alcina furrows her brow.

“I didn’t want to wake you up. I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible before the chaos.” You shrug and Alcina kisses your forehead. “And I wanted to be sure too.”

Six hours pass and your contractions are still about 25-30 minutes apart but increasing in discomfort. You don't know if they’re actually increasing in pain or if you’re just getting worn down at this point. At 9:02am, they run a hot bath for you to soak in, to try to ease some of the discomfort. It only helps a little bit. You try sitting normally in the tub, then kneeling against the wall of it, then sitting on all fours, before ending up back in a normal sitting position.

Despite the amount of pain and stress you’re in, you remain fairly positive and bubbly, and even joke around with Alcina. Your mother decided to go back to sleep around 3:45, with some convincing from you, so she’d be ready when the baby actually decided to make an appearance. But at around 10:23 she knocks on the bathroom door and is let in by Alcina. She kisses the top of your head and hands Alcina a light breakfast for both of you.

“You gotta keep your strength up.” She smiles at both of you. “How are you doing, my sweet?”

You, resting her head against the side of the tub look up at her mother and smile weakly. “I’d be doing a lot better if this baby would come.” Just as you finish your sentence another contraction, one of the worst yet, comes on and you start to weep.

“I’m going to call Dani.”Alcina murmurs. The daughter of your girlfriend who had become more like a sister to you.

“Please!” You gasp, your voice a mixture of exhaustion and pain, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. Alcina sits behind you and wraps her arms around your shoulders, whispering words of encouragement into your ear. After about a minute and a half the contraction passes and you sigh. “I need to get out of here. I’m getting pruny and I’m tired. I want to rest.”

You get in a rough nap before the contractions interrupt your sleeping too much. When you wake though, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Dani sitting at the foot of her bed.

“Hey, Tiny.” Dani smiles. You smile softly and reach out for Dani’s hand. “How’s it going?”

“Oh you know, I’ve been in labor for…” You pause to check the clock and calculate the time. “13 hours with no pain medicine. I’m surviving.”

Alcina wants to give you and Dani some time together but when you have another contraction, once again, that’s seemingly worse than the last, she can’t help but run to your side. “Talk to me, darling. What’s going on?”

“They’re barely 10 minutes apart. I think this one is 7 minutes after the last one.” You spit out the words and cling to Alcina, digging your nails into her arm.

“I’m going to call the midwife as soon as this one passes.”

It takes the midwife, Janet, over 30 minutes to get to the castle from outside the village . It’s exactly 2:00 pm when Janet walks through the door. By that time, your contractions are less than 5 minutes apart and so intense you have to hold onto both Alcina and Dani. You’re sweating, crying a little bit, not nearly as bubbly as before, completely drained, but focused and still positive.

“Hey, sweetstuff.” Janet hums and she greets you, and you give her a soft smile. “I know you’re miserable so I’m gonna save the ‘how are you doing’ speech and get to it. First things first, can I check to see how dilated you are?”

Janet determines you are about 6 centimeters dilated and you arebeyond thrilled to be over halfway to the end. “So now we wait and we breathe and try to relax and keep drinking water. You are a trooper. I know I couldn’t do what you’re doing, but it is so worth it and so wonderful for you and your baby.” Janet’s warm and assuring tone makes you feel like maybe you didn’t make the wrong choice by going with a natural home birth and some of your regret fades.

You eventually go back to the tub, where you find kneeling against the side of it helps to relieve some of the pressure this time. Your contractions are closer together and they’re shorter, but they are worse than any pain that you’ve ever felt before. Each one makes you feel like you’re going to fall apart at the joints.

At around 4:30, the contractions are enough to make you cry and moan in pain constantly, and it is almost too much to bear for everyone witnessing their sweet little Tiny suffer so much. You’ve moved from kneeling against the tub to your bed. Your knees are planted on the floor, your chest is resting against the side of the mattress, your shoulders are curled in on yourself, and your head is pressed into the bed. You want to push so bad and every passing second the pressure continues to build. You feels like if you don’t push immediately you’re going to explode

“Alright, baby, you’re 8 centimeters dilated. We’re almost there.” Janet isn’t so calming anymore when she doesn’t say what you want to hear.

“How much longer?” You whimper.

Janet sighs. “I wish I could give you an answer. It could be 30 minutes, or it could be three hours. There’s no way to tell.”

You curse Janet for even mentioning three hours because sure enough with your luck it is another five hours before you’re fully dilated. By this point, you don't even know how you’re going to find the strength to push. It’s been almost 24 hours since your labor began and now you’re just getting to the point where you can start pushing. You’re still squatting next to the bed when Janet gives you the first instruction to push. You thought for hours that pushing would provide some kind of relief, but when the pressure worsens as you push you want to stop more than any other moment of the process.

An hour passes with barely any luck or movement from the baby and both you and Alcina start to get worried. Janet assures them that it’s normal and the delivery itself can take two to three hours, especially without any medication. You move to the bed and lay on your side with your leg towards your chest as far as they’ll go. This seems to do the trick and soon Janet is exclaiming that she feels a head.

The final, and 25th, hour of labor passes and soon the house fills with the most beautiful sound you've ever heard: the sound of your baby crying. Janet lays your baby in your arms and that first moment of skin-to-skin contact feels like heaven. You look down and the little face in your arms and start to openly sob, as does everyone else in the room.

“It’s a girl.” Janet smiles. You can’t pry her eyes away from her, from your daughters.

“Cina… we have a baby. We have a daughter.” You whisper. Alcina is a mess, with tears streaming down her face and trembling with soft sobs. After feeding her, Janet wants to give Alcina the skin-to-skin contact as well and kicks Dani and your mother out so the new mothers can have some privacy. Alcina holds him against her chest while you lie in bed next to her, resting and recovering. “What’re we going to name her?”

“Slowpoke because it took her so long to get here.” Alcina teases in a soft voice directed towards the now sleeping baby.

You smile and reach over to touch the baby’s cheek. “Honestly, not to be one of those moms, but what if we just named her what she is?”

“What’s that?” Alcina asks, raising a brow at you.

“A bearer of good news and hope..”

“My dear, I don’t think that’s a name.” Alcina chuckles a little.

“No, but Evangeline is.”

Alcina’s face twists into one of pure joy. “Evangeline Dimitrescu.” She nods. “That’ll do just fine.”

[screamting]

Winter Break in Kansas [80s AU] 1/2

Bruce bade goodbye to Tommy and Harvey without telling them anything of his own plans for the holiday break.

(....both of them looked gaunt. Holidays hadn’t even begun. They didn’t muster much enthusiasm for the goodbye, and Bruce didn’t make them.)

He didn’t put on the hat or scarf until they were a good distance out of the building, where the other two wouldn’t see, and bundled himself up unrecognizably as best he could.

Nodded.

“Let’s go.”

--

Clark slung his backpack over his shoulder and started down the stairs where they could get a cab to the bus stop.

“Have you ever been to Kansas before?”

--

Bruce shook his head.

“No,” he said, tugging out a few dollars from his pocket and shoving them towards Clark.

He’d pay.

--

Clark took them without argument after seeing how that worked during Halloween.

Into the cab they went.

“Don’t blame you. Nothin’ there.” He joked, and away they went.

A cab to the bus station.

Then the bus to Kansas.

It would be a day’s ride.

--

Bruce had packed books.

...they had agreed, even if silently and grudgingly, that they would just have to give up on their research for the duration of the break.

...on the up side, they would finally have a little time to read what they wanted to, at least.

He tugged out two crime thrillers, passing one to Clark, along with one of the lunches-to-go he’d bought at the cafeteria for the trip.

For the first hour or so, he sat up primly, despite his disguise.

And then, as the bus ride kept going…

He tugged his legs up under himself and curled up in the seat with his book, letting himself lean a little into Clark’s shoulder when the seat was cramped, finally looking content.

--

Clark let him lean into him as much as he wanted, especially considering the crampedness of the seats.

He read a little and ate some of their packed lunch, and then for a lot of the ride he dozed. Riding in a bus or car had that constant hum that drowned a lot out that was easy to focus on and sleep to. It was better than the erratic noise of the city, that was for sure.

As they went on, the bus taking occasional breaks at rest stops, the hills died down and things became increasingly flat.

And then, early the next morning, they pulled in to their stop.

“Here we are.” Clark mumbled, grabbing their bags from overhead and passing Bruce his as they climbed off.

--

...it was surreal.

Absolutely surreal.

For someone like Bruce who had grown up with always something blocking the horizon, the sheer flatness of the world around him left him feeling a little… disoriented.

Vulnerable, even.

But he kept the hat and scarf on, holding his bags and exhausted from the bumpy ride, and followed Clark closely as he climbed off the bus.

--

Clark barely had to even look around before he motioned for Bruce to follow, ducking around the other people climbing off the bus. He went right to an old station wagon with a man stood leaning on the hood, arms crossed to keep in the warmth and an old truckers cap on his head. When he saw them he stood and waved.

“Hey Pa.” Clark smiled, and hugged him as a woman with dirty blonde hair opened the door and stepped out of the passenger side.

“There’s my baby boy.” She cooed, already grabbing Clark and kissing his cheeks while he groaned and protested.

“You must be Bruce?” Jon said, extending a rough hand towards him. “You can call me Jon. Clark’s father.”

His face was sun scorned and wrinkled less from age and more from working outside every day of his life, his hair cut short and dark brown.

--

He had that feeling again. Like he was floating, somewhere else entirely, only partly aware of what was happening in front of him. Only sort-of involved.

It was a familiar one, even if school sometimes lessened it. Sometimes.

He was hoping it would leave if he left Gotham. But here it was. Right away. Watching Clark run to his mother or her run to him, and his dad, and hugging--

He took the father’s hand, shook it, and said, “Bruce Wayne,” in the voice that was bigger than he felt in his head.

--

“So Clark tells me. Quite the name back out East.” He said, giving Bruce a firm handshake.

When Martha was finished embarrassing her son she walked over to Bruce. “I'm Martha, now let's get you boys where it's warm.” She put an arm around Bruce and gestured for him to get into the back where Clark was already piling in.

--

Oh.

He felt dizzy. And tight. His jaw tightened the smile onto his face to keep it there, even as his heartbeat rocketed up, until it was pounding in his ears.

(Waking nightmare)

He stumbled forward over his own feet, but followed where the arm took him, same as he did when Alfred started trying to guide him away from paparazzi anytime they glimpsed him. Anytime they got an excuse.

He held his bag tight and piled in beside Clark, regretting every step that took him to this conclusion.

--

While his parents got back in Clark looked over at Bruce with concern. His heart was like a drum suddenly.

“You okay?” he whispered.

--

Bruce’s face had fallen into a brutal neutrality once the eyes weren’t on him anymore. Blank and stiff.

But he nodded faintly, lying.

--

“... Okay.” Clark said, not believing it at all, but not prying further.

“So is it just as cold out there as it is here?” His dad asked.

Typical banter.

--

Him. It was him. He was being talked to.

Talk.

“Haven’t been here long enough to say,” Bruce said, lost somewhere over the horizon with no buildings to stop him.

--

“It’s colder in Gotham.” Clark added as they started to move once everyone was buckled up.

“We’re pretty tired from the trip though. Is the guest room ready?”

“Oh yeah it’s all waiting for you. Will you two want breakfast or you gonna collapse into bed?” Martha asked.

--

“Bed,” Bruce managed, even though he knew he should’ve said more than that.

But in his head he was already at a family breakfast. Staring at them over a meal. Having to talk more before he could think or control his heart or breathe and actually feel it filling his lungs, not just faintly keeping him conscious by a thread.

--

“Yeah we’re beat.” Clark said, although he wasn’t very tired. This was mostly for Bruce’s sake.

“We’ll just get some rest and then we can have lunch and stuff, okay?”

“Okay, that sounds good. I still need to run out and grab a few things anyway.” Martha said, and with that the conversation would taper off and away from the boys.

Clark did pass a look over to Bruce though, just to check on him.

--

...gradually, Bruce’s heartbeat started to slow again as the conversation moved away, and he didn’t have to drag himself to pay attention to it. Didn’t live scared of the response he missed. He could just stare blankly forwards and hover for a while.

But that was it, too.

He just… hovered.

The usual awareness wasn’t in his eyes. And he knew it wasn’t there.

And the part of him that wasn’t in front, that wasn’t keeping them in society, breathing, not being kicked out of the car of the only people he knew for miles and miles--

That part of him was screaming. A sound not even Clark could hear.

Wake up. Pay attention. It’ll happen while you’re not paying attention. It’s going to go wrong. If you don’t pay attention everything will go wrong.

But he couldn’t drag himself to the front yet.

He couldn’t do it that fast.

--

They drive for awhile before turning into a tiny little town that was just starting to wake up, and then they even drove away from that and down long barren roads onto a long dirt driveway, the farmhouse soon coming into view.

“Home sweet home.” Jon said as he pulled up to a stop.

“We’re here, Bruce.” Clark said quietly, trying to get his attention so they could climb out of the car.

--

It helped. His name. Instruction.

He shuffled out of the car, pulling his backpack back on, and at the very least managed to glance at the small farmhouse and and and

(he counted exits)

Before following Clark inside, looking dazed.

Like he did definitely need the bed.

--

“I’ll show Bruce to his room, he’s pretty wiped.” Clark said, leading his friend up the steps and… maybe putting an arm around his shoulders to guide him a little better.

“It’s up the steps. C’mon.”

--

He made a small confirming sound at his name, and

Arm.

Followed the arm. Pressed into it.

(Tommy guided him like this, sometimes. Alfred did. Away from the worst of things. Back to the manor, or their room, or--)

He was lost in three places at once. The farmhouse here, and the manor, and the academy and coming out of the alleyway under a policeman’s coat.

But he could make it up the stairs, and be guided to the guest room, at the very least.

--

Clark got him up the steps, paused only for a moment to point at the bathroom. “Bathroom is here. And this is the guest room.”

He opened it up to reveal a very old, dated looking bed with an empty dresser and bedside table with a lamp. Floral comforter and frilled pillow cover.

“Sorry it’s… very grandma.” He huffed. “But, uh, you get comfortable. You want something to drink?”

--

Looked fine. Normal, even.

He shook his head.

“...how long?” he asked.

--

“... How long what?”

--

...fuck. The word. Didn’t she say lunch?

“Til lunch,” he said.

How long to recover.

--

“Oh, like, uh… you still got awhile. It’s only eight right now so four hours? Ish? And if you need to chill in here longer you can.” Clark said, looking at an old clock over the door.

--

Four hours sounded like both an eternity and no time at all.

Bruce set down his bag and nodded, not sure what to say.

Not sure how to ask to start.

Alone.

Rest.

Privacy.

Please.

--

“I'm gonna bring you something to drink and then you can sleep or whatever.” Clark said, turning away and heading downstairs.

He came back a moment later with a cup of warm tea.

“Here. Just yell if you need anything.”

And then he would leave Bruce to recover.

--

“Okay. Thanks,” he said, letting the hot tea sit.

...he held it in his hands.

….the heat helped.

He could smell it.

...once he was alone, he closed his eyes and sat on the floor, holding the cup between his hands and just… breathing it in deeply.

He took a drink. Followed the heat as it traveled down his throat.

….

It was sort of like Alfred’s tea.

Two places, now. Only lost in two. That was manageable.

A little more color came back to him. He finished the tea. The cup cooled and it didn’t help anymore. But he was a little better.

...he didn’t have the energy to do much, though.

So he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the unfamiliar bed, biting down on his hand as hard as he could, and once all he could think about was his hand, he closed his eyes on the pillow and let go.

And he would go to sleep.

And in four hours, he would be fine again.

--

In four hours or so, Clark would knock on his door.

“Bruce? You awake? We're gonna have some lunch now.”

--

There was a jump in heartrate as Bruce jerked awake, but he still understood well enough what had been said to him.

“Y-yeah-- just let me get to the bathroom.”

--

“Okay, just come down to the kitchen when you're ready.” Clark said, leaving him be. His footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.

--

...Bruce waited until the footsteps were down the stairs and a little fainter before crawling out of bed.

His clothing was wrinkled from sleeping in it.

He grabbed a new shirt and set of pants, and folded the two he’d been wearing on the bus. Grabbed his comb.

Bathroom.

He washed his face and combed his hair back, the way he always wore it, unless he ended up shoved under a John Deere hat. Made sure his shirt was flat and his clothing straight. Tied his shoes back on.

He hurried down the stairs.

This time, he was Braced for It.

--

Now that he was more aware of his surroundings he could take in the details.

Worn furniture. Warm. Lived in. Family pictures on the mantle over the TV that was playing The Price Is Right. Noises from the kitchen.

Clark and Martha were there, Clark over a bowl of soup and Martha watching the TV from her position in front of the stove.

“Well don't you look nice.” she grinned. “You hungry?”

--

Maybe ironically, Bruce wasn’t used to being complimented on his appearance.

Maybe because he grew up with Alfred, and he was wearing the bare minimum to please Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said, voice a little steadier than it had been that morning. “Yes, ma’am.”

--

“You like chicken corn soup?” She asked.

Clark was eating the same thing that was on the stove in a large pot; a homemade soup with bits of chicken, corn, and other things to make a hearty, white soup.

Without being asked Clark got up and started to get Bruce something to drink.

--

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it before,” he said honestly, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye.

--

“Well if you don't like it you don't have to eat it, okay?” Martha said, getting out a bowl and filling it with soup. She set it down in front of him with a spoon.

“We got tea, milk, or OJ.” Clark said, looking over at Bruce.

--

“Thank you,” he said again, sitting where she set it, and glanced back at Clark. “Tea?”

“...oh. I forgot the cup upstairs--”

--

“That's okay, just bring it down later.” Martha said.

“This is iced tea, but if you want more hot tea I can make that too.” Clark said, pulling out the jug to show Bruce.

--

Bruce blinked blankly at him, as if just confronted with something he had no idea about.

“Iced tea?”

--

The two looked at each other like Bruce was the alien.

Clark poured him a glass of iced tea and set it in front of him.

“Wondered why I didn't see it anywhere at school.”

--

Bruce looked down at the cup like it was a challenge.

“...”

He kept eye contact with Clark as he sipped it.

--

It didn't taste anything like hot tea. It was sweet with a tiny hint of lemon.

Clark stared him right back.

“... Well?”

--

…

Bruce stared down at it.

“...I think I felt one of Alfred’s ancestors disown me just now,” he said, and took another sip.

--

Clark laughed, “But do you like it?”

--

Bruce nodded.

“It’s good.”

It was a little like a flat soda, almost?

--

“Good.” Clark grinned and sat back down to finish eating. Martha looked to be scooping the soup that was left over into freezing containers and labeling them.

“You gonna give Bruce a tour of the farm when you're done?”

Clark looked over at him, “You want one?”

--

“Sure?” Bruce said, “Whatever the plan is.”

He had no idea if there even was a plan. He’d focused so hard on getting here he wasn’t really sure what to do otherwise.

Even Clark had admitted there wasn’t much to do besides bowling.

So his only plan right now was to run with manners and hope it got him somewhere.

He ate the soup and drank the tea, not finding it quite his taste, but eating and finishing it all the same.

--

Clark didn't really have a plan either. He had just heard his friend had what sounded like a really lonely holiday and invited him along.

So they finished their soup and set the dishes in the sink before bundling up to take the tour.

“You ever been on a farm?” He asked while walking down the front steps. The third one creaked.

--

He followed Clark’s lead. Ran upstairs to bring down the cup and wrap his own scarf (thick and dark) around his neck as they headed out.

“Gardens don’t count?” he asked rhetorically. “Then no.”

--

Clark chuckled, “No. Gardens don’t count.”

A man was pulled up in their driveway in a tractor with a plow hooked to the front talking to his dad, and Clark waved but didn’t go over. Instead he lead Bruce towards the barn.

“All the corn is down now since it’s winter, but we still got the cows I can show ya.”

--

Bruce nodded, following along behind him.

“Okay?”

He’d never seen a cow before.

...the sight and smell of them stopped him dead.

“...that’s huge.”

--

“How big did you think cows were, Bruce?” Clark laughed, closing the barn door behind them.

The cows were in their stalls for the winter, some laying down to sleep while others had their heads stuck through the bars to feed from their trough.

It did smell pretty bad, but Clark didn’t seem to mind. He walked over to one and pet between its eyes.

--

Bruce honestly didn’t know how the cows stood the smell.

...he followed up behind Clark, watching him pet the cow, though his curiosity was focused a bit more on the petter than the pet-ee.

--

“They’re nice once you know how to act around them.” Clark said, looking at Bruce. “Just, y’know, gotta be aware they can break your foot. Here-” He reached out to take the other boy’s hand and place it gently on the cow’s head where he had been petting it.

The fur was course almost. Rough. Not really soft but not really wiry either.

--

Bruce was honestly not even really thinking about petting the cows--

...but Clark’s hand was warm, and it startled him into complacency, hand being pulled out of his pocket like that and held, even just for a moment.

…

The fur was coarse. But she was warm. The cow. And even though the fur was coarse, the skin under it was soft as Clark’s hand on top of his.

… “Wow,” he said, knowing he had to say something.

--

“See? They’re nice.” Clark said, oblivious to what was going on in Bruce’s head right now.

“C’mon.” He said, leading him out of the barn and towards the backyard.

“That’s our own little garden even though it’s just a patch of frozen mud right now. We grow tomatoes, zucchini, strawberries, tons of stuff. Mom makes jam. I’ll have her give you a jar to take back if you want. It’s really good.”

He lead him into a smaller barn after that. It had a four-wheeler and a few tractors inside.

“This is where we keep some of the equipment.”

--

Bruce followed Clark around the farm, feeling a little dumb and dumbfounded, and not sure what to feel the rest of the time. The farm life was… very different from the world he knew. And he respected it, he was pretty sure--but he didn’t really know much about it.

So he followed politely, looking around.

He pretty readily agreed to the jam.

“Alfred will like it,” he said.

--

“Cool. Y’know you gotta show me around your mansion or whatever sometime.”

A dog barked and soon a dog with black and white splotches was running up to them.

“Oh, and that’s Daisy.”

She tried to jump up at Bruce in excitement, tag wagging.

--

“Woah--” Bruce took a step back as Daisy jumped up at him, but--

...it was a dog.

Bruce bent down a moment later and was scratching her behind the ears.

--

Daisy put on that ‘thats the spot’ face and leaned into it, grumbling happily.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked, do you have any pets?”

--

Bruce… made a bit of a face. And shook his head.

“No. Not anymore.”

...he was content to keep scratching the dog behind the ear as long as she’d lean in.

--

Clark stood and just sort’ve… watched him for a moment.

It was nice to see him content like this. Away from pressure.

“You feeling better than you were earlier?” He asked, as though he somehow knew.

--

…

“Yeah. ...sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

He’d bite it back as often as he had to.

--

“It’s okay, dude.” Clark shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re around me. It happens.”

--

Bruce just… focused on the dog.

Clicked his fingers at her.

“I am fine, though,” he said, not even fooling himself. “...you didn’t tell me that’s what your mom’s name was.”

--

… It took him a moment. He looked confused, then his eyes went big.

“Oh. Oh, damn. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it.” He looked ashamed and ran a hand through the curls in his hair.

--

Bruce shook his head, not… looking at him, for that. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to.”

He should’ve been able to handle this on his own. It had been years. (six years.) He should be fine.

But his throat was dry, even after draining the whole glass of ice tea, and his fingers were getting cold, even in the warmth of Daisy’s fur.

Why was he still talking?

“Dad didn’t die first,” he said. “He kept calling her name.”

--

Daisy tried to lick his face, tail wagging.

“... I’m sorry, Bruce.” Clark said quietly. “Must be hard.”

He had never lost someone before.

He didn’t know how it felt.

--

He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, but he felt that creeping chill on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to drag him out of Smallville again. It wasn’t there yet. It hadn’t yanked him in violently like back at the bus station. But he could feel the prickle of it; the threat.

He sat down crosslegged in the field, and let the dog lick him.

When she stopped he just… shook his head.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” ‘it must be hard’ wasn’t… something he was used to hearing. “I’ve got money and Alfred to take care of me. I’m fine.”

--

Clark sat down with him on the cold, frozen dirt.

“Yeah but that’s just money and Alfred ain’t your dad. You might have what you need but not what you want. ‘N money can’t buy that.”

“So, like… are you fine?”

He looked over at him and tried to meet his eyes with his own bright blue gaze that somehow stood out even more than Bruce’s. The sun was high in the sky and there weren’t as many clouds to hide him like their were in Gotham, and you could see how much his skin almost glowed in the sunlight.

--

That wasn’t what people were supposed to say, and the urge to argue Kent down made a thousand things meant to be kept secret bubble up on his tongue.

But he swallowed them down.

...he seemed much smaller out here, under the big, clear sky. In Gotham, in its narrow streets and foggy skies, he stretched up and could fill a room. Here he was just a small, lost shadow: dark clothes, pale skin.

And when Clark tried to meet his eyes, they were glazed wet, and in the process of being blinked away, even as Bruce’s voice said, steadily, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

…

…

“When I’m eighteen,” he said, guiding Daisy down to lie in his lap for a belly rub, “I inherit everything they left behind. And I’m going to take it and run away, until not even you’d be able to find me.”

--

Daisy rolled into him and was very happy for the belly rub.

“... Why?” Clark asked, sounding sad. “Just to get away?”

--

...at least someone understood.

Bruce nodded.

--

Clark nodded too.

…

“Where you gonna go?”

--

Bruce shrugged.

He didn't know. He didn't care much.

--

“Okay.”

…

“Well-” Clark nudged him a little. “-I’d like it if ya kept in touch at least a little.”

He gave him an award-winning smile.

--

...Bruce found himself looking at that smile, and… it was hard not to feel some guilt.

“We’ll see,” he compromised.

--

Clark went quiet and just sat with him then.

…

After a few minutes though he blinked and stood up, looking down at his driveway.

--

Bruce looked up.

Glanced down the driveway. Saw nothing.

But he looked back up at Clark without any doubt. “What do you see?”

--

“It’s Pete ‘n Kenny.” Clark said just as you could start to hear the car. He offered a hand down to help Bruce to his feet.

“Friends of mine. Guess mom told ‘em I was coming home.”

--

Bruce didn't need the help, but he took the hand anyway, pushing Daisy off his lap carefully as he went.

“Yeah…?”

He was a little anxious about meeting Clark’s friends.

He was bad with people. And caring about Clark made things suddenly infinitely more complicated if he failed to make a good impression.

--

“Yeah. Don’t worry about ‘em, they’re good people.”

Clark lead him over to the car as it slid to a stop, two boys sat in the front.

“You’re back!” The passenger shouted.

“Yeah, for winter break.” Clark said, then gestured to them. “Kenny, Pete. Pete, Kenny, this is Bruce. Friend of mine from school.”

“Yo.” Kenny waved from the driver’s seat, Pete from the passenger’s side.

--

Bruce waved back with a “nice to meet you,” and hung back, not willing to overstep. He was already looking at Pete and Kenny’s haircuts and their clothes, and starting to get an idea how Clark must've felt, standing out in school.

--

They dressed a lot like Clark did. Layers. Worn clothes. Mud around the ankles and hand-me-down jackets.

“Get in, both of ya, we’re heading down to the tracks.” Kenny said, pointing to the back seat.

“Uh.” Clark looked at Bruce. “You cool with tagging along?”

He looked hopeful.

--

Bruce shrugged and--well. He had no reason not to?

“Sure.”

He climbed into the back with Clark.

--

“Nice.” Pete grinned, and once they were in, Kenny started to back up and turn around to head out.

…

At first they didn’t really talk to Bruce. They just filled Clark in on all the town gossip. Who was boning who, who was getting knocked up, who had fallen out or gotten in trouble.

But soon that did come around as they pulled into a gravel spot by some train tracks. Pete leaned back and looked at Bruce. “He tell ya why he ran off to Gotham?”

Clark might’ve gone a little pale. “Pete.”

--

“Said he was layin’ low,” Bruce said, picking up Pete’s accent a little bit from being surrounded by it for a little. He crossed his arms on the seat in front of him and leaned forward, asking for more without saying anything.

--

“I’ll kill you, Pete.” Clark warned.

“Yeah. Layin’ low after blastin’ a guys arms off with his eyes.” Pete grinned.

Clark threatened to climb over the seat and smack him, and Pete just kept laughing.

“Pete you fuckin’ dumbass, you know he can actually kill you, right?” Kenny huffed.

--

Bruce just… looked sort of confused for a bit at that.

What did that mean? If it was an in-joke would Clark be that upset, but if it was leaning closer to real, what did that even mean?

He knew Clark… was different.

But he didn't realize he hadn't seen half of it yet.

“...what?”

--

“You didn’t tell him?” Kenny said, a little surprised.

Clark stopped smacking Pete, who was laughing his ass off. “Kenny! What do you think laying low means?!”

“Well I mean, c’mon man, you brought him here. Damn near everyone knows you’re an alien.” Kenny said, unintimidated.

Clark just… slumped back into the seat, as far away from everyone as possible, and shoved his face in his hands.

--

…

…

You know what?

Bruce was going to unpack all of this later.

Right now, all he could do was turn, look Clark dead in the eye, and say, “suddenly I understand why you had such a hard time with ‘snitches get stitches’ with friends like these.”

--

Clark was rubbing his eyes. “God.”

“Ah c’mon Clark. We gotta embarrass our buddy in front of his new friend.” Pete grinned.

Clark glared at him. “You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything. You know how much shit I could get in if everyone in Gotham knew? Area 51??” He gestured wildly to himself.

“If it makes you feel better people are starting to say those three were just tripping on something and imagined the whole thing.” Kenny said.

--

Bruce was still just… running with this. As it happened.

Unpack later. Survive right now.

(From his position, he could get an arm around Kenny’s neck and choke him as payback for Clark’s trust being violated)

(There was a red mark against Kenny from this, against Pete. Snitches get stitches. Silence was golden. Loose lips sank ships.

Trust no one.)

(‘You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything.’ When-- when had that-- when had he earned that?)

“What did happen?” Bruce asked instead.

He was ten places in his head, and lost in none of them.

--

They all looked at Clark.

…

Clark sighed and rubbed his head.

“Some assholes shot up the gas station last year. Killed like five people. I knew where he’d gone, I could hear the yelling, so I tracked them down. One guy shot me in the face with a revolver. I tossed him through the front of the house. Next guy shot me in the chest with a shotgun. I ended up burning his arms off. Then Pete came around and ended up clocking the last one with a shovel.”

He said it all so… numbly. Like he had unpacked in awhile ago and could now just… recite it.

--

“They lived?” he said, deciding not to question the… burning. The being followed. The shotgun.

--

“... Yeah.” Clark said quietly.

--

Bruce had gone back to his Gotham accent. His voice had been falling into his harder, more serious tone.

Pete and Kenny called this story embarrassing to Clark.

“But you did it?”

--

Kenny and Pete were looking at one another, watching this unfold after they had set it into motion.

“... Yeah?” Clark said again. “I can do… a lot of weird shit.”

--

Maybe the new fragile city kid going hard and cold wasn't what they'd expected when they started talking about small town maiming.

“Yeah, no shit, you beat my mile,” Bruce said. “...but you burnt their arms off.”

…he waited for one more confirmation, looking Clark in the eye just as Clark had done with him half an hour earlier.

But once he got it--even just a flash of a ‘yes’ in a look between them, Bruce said, “Good.”

--

And Clark did say ‘yes’.

But then he looked confused.

“Good?”

That was the first time anyone had said that.

--

And Bruce said it again.

Firmer.

“Good.”

--

Clark blinked and stared at him, like a whole other option had opened up to him.

…

“Damn,” Kenny said. “Hardass Gotham.”

--

Kenny still had a mark against him, and he wasn't helping himself, so Bruce didn't feel bad when he turned the full weight of a glare on him.

Maybe his eyes couldn't ‘burn off’ anyone’s arms, but that just meant that his blue eyes were cold and hard as ice.

“They shot five people? They deserve what's coming to them.”

--

… Kenny backed up and put his hands up. “Not sayin’ they didn’t.”

“Yeah, no one is saying that.” Pete added. “I mean, if he hadn’t showed up then they were gonna kill like their whole family.”

Clark still didn’t say anything. He was looking down, like he had never been told that what he had done was good. Not really. Whenever they had mentioned how he had done well it was also interlaced with ‘but what could have happened to you’.

--

They were going to kill their whole family.

They were going to kill their whole family?

That part hadn't been said. Just: Clark tracked them down. Clark fought them. Clark got shot.

Clark lived.

(They were going to kill a family, and Bruce, already mentally exhausted from the morning, from bracing himself against names, from coping, found himself seeing it happen in an alleyway unlike anything he'd seen in Smallville, and he was so tired of spending the day in that place.)

“Cool. Cool, so… fuck this,” he said, and turned to Clark, seeing him spaced out. “Hey. Kent. Snap out of it. You said you guys got out more than us, right? Time to prove it.”

Find somewhere else to go.

Somewhere to lose this conversation entirely, before they got lost in it.

--

“Uhhhh fine.” Clark groaned and sat up. “Let’s go.”

Pete put the car in reverse. “Where to?”

“... Bowling?” Clark shrugged and looked at Bruce.

--

“I'll pay,” Bruce said, fine with that.

“See you throw every single ball down the gutter again.”

--

“You were last!” Clark pointed out.

--

“Yeah. I have nothing to prove,” he said, straight faced.

“But I might try harder out of revenge now that I know I wasn't wrong about my mile.”

--

“I was gonna apologize but I thought that would be saying too much!” Clark pleaded with him.

“They makin’ you take gym, Clark?” Kenny asked as they drove.

“Yes.”

“Oof.”

--

Bruce-- Bruce wasn't angry at Clark for it, not really. He'd been the one playing mediator at the time. Half of him just… needed something to keep going. To be huffy about--something that didn't matter--so he wouldn't be huffy about things that did.

“Tommy and Harv aren't gonna say anything even if they’ve figured something out,” he said, finally leaning back some and trying to uncoil the tight knot in his shoulders. “I told them not to that day.”

And no matter how loud Tommy was, no matter how much the teachers liked Harvey-- at the end of the day, Bruce was the one in charge. He didn't say much, but when he told them to not pry or talk, neither of the other boys would.

That weight didn't transfer to Kansas well, but after that conversation-- it lingered on him, some, in the back of the car, in his nice dark clothes, and the cold exhaustion in his eyes.

“They've been letting him skip for asthma, but running a four minute mile blew that out of the water some.”

--

“... Thanks.” Clark said, looking over at him.

“Guess since no one is in on it over there things are kinda hard.” Pete said.

“You have no idea.” Clark mumbled.

…

“This is kinda a relief. You knowing now.”

--

...he relaxed a little more.

“...I'm gonna be processing this for a while still,” he said. “...but I guess it at least makes sense now why you didn't think I was insane about the Talons being real.”

….somehow, the thought that Clark hadn't just been humoring him the last few months took precedence.

--

Clark huffed a laugh.

“Talons?” One in the front asked.

“Nah we’re not talking about that shit with you two.” Clark said firmly.

No way.

--

…

Bruce found himself smiling a little.

Mentioning it had been a kind-of permission, but… he was glad it wasn't taken.

Clark kept their secrets.

“So,” he leaned forward onto the front chair again. “Clark said something about corn demons?”

--

“What?” Kenny said.

“What?” Clark said too, then paused. “Oh, there's uh, that hell gateway over in Stull I think I mentioned.” Clark said.

“Eh, people just like to bullshit about angry ghosts that come out around Halloween.” Pete said.

--

“Our murder rate just spikes on Halloween,” Bruce said. “Why’s it a hell gateway?”

Said the Jewish boy.

--

“I have no idea.” Clark admitted.

“Isn't Gotham like one of the biggest crime places in the US?” Pete asked.

--

“Recently, yeah,” Bruce said, keeping it steady.

--

“What's it like there?” Pete asked.

“Ever been stabbed?” Kenny followed.

“Jesus, guys.” Clark sighed.

--

“I would probably not be walking around so great if I'd been stabbed,” Bruce said flatly, thinking of the caning in school, and the dread Tommy and Harv had of going home, and grisly pictures on the front page.

“You two sound like you watch way too much tv.”

--

“They do.” Clark said flatly.

They pulled into the bowling alley.

It was… very empty. The inside only had two people in staff with the radio playing and an arcade tucked in the corner.

--

“Same show that told you we were supposed to be out partying when we just snuck out for ice cream?”

Bruce pulled out a handful of bills and handed them to Clark mostly out of habit.

He could probably actually… buy things here without being recognized, maybe. But habit still won this round.

--

Clark didn't mind, walking up and paying. “Absolutely.”

“Snuck out for ice cream?”

“Didn't think you could get any lamer, Clark.” Kenny chuckled.

--

...it did make him think, though. A connection he hadn't been able to make, but that he'd made sure to hold onto the pieces, just in case.

“...what they said earlier doesn't happen to have anything to with how easy scaling the wall was for you, right?”

--

Clark waited until they were away from other prying ears to answer.

“Um, yeah. I might've been kinda… flying. For that.”

--

Bruce turned and stared at him again.

“What?” He whispered back.

--

Clark cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I can fly.”

--

Bruce is going to need a long time to work through all this.

But right now, he's compartmentalizing like a pro.

“...what else can you do?”

--

“Uh,” Clark mumbled as he tied his bowling shoes. “I can see through things. Like x-ray vision? And can hear really far. Like--”

He looked up and his eyes glowed blue. “I can see one of the employees back behind the counter picking his nose. And he's humming that really annoying country song that won't stop playing on the radio.”

--

There was something in that which nagged Bruce. Being watched without being able to tell. Being heard. But--

But he had something to soothe it, a little bit. And confirm.

“I can hear the humming, too,” he said.

Not as a challenge.

But.

He believed Clark.

This was something most people couldn't hear.

And if he could hear that, Bruce would also believe the sight.

--

Clark looked a little surprised, happy even.

“Really?” He smiled a little, like he suddenly felt less alone.

“And, uh, I try hard to not listen in on private conversations and stuff if it makes you feel better. I don't want to hear everything. It just happens. I have to focus to pay attention to what close.”

--

...the apology was fine, but the second part still kept him a little on guard.

“Like the teachers meeting with students after class,” he said, and trying to not think of how close some private discussions had been to Clark. “...how far away?”

--

Clark made a face as though the answer pained him.

“Miles. Like… three miles? More if I focus.”

--

...not even Bruce’s razor hearing did that.

He felt the knot in his chest tighten almost imperceptibly.

“...but you don't.”

--

“No. I try to ground myself and focus on what's next to me.” He got up to get a bowling ball. Picked out the heaviest one and twirled it in his hands idly like it didn't weigh a thing.

“I try to keep it to like… a few rooms away sort of hearing. That's the smallest I can get without having to strain myself.”

--

A few rooms away.

A few rooms away.

(Kisses don't make sounds, Bruce told himself, but all the same, felt his heart speed up a bit at the memory.)

“A few rooms clearly?” he said, watching how Clark spun the bowling ball as if it were just a basket ball, meant to be tossed around in the air.

He picked up his own ball to wait his turn. It was lighter. But it was still heavy in his lap.

--

Clark made a face again. Guilty.

“I… I can hear your heartbeat through walls, so. Yeah. Clearly.”

He looked at Bruce, apologetic.

“I'm-- I'm sorry.”

--

...that.

That was… too much.

He could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears and thundering in his chest, and it was too much for him.

But he couldn't have this conversation here.

He couldn't have it anywhere, maybe.

He couldn't think too hard on that, on his very heartbeat always being listened to, on the illusion of privacy, and the thought of--

He picked up his bowling ball, numb and dead to the world, and with no distractions and a mechanicalness to his movements, he rolled a strike.

They weren't talking about this anymore.

--

… Clark looked down, not saying a word as Kenny and Pete 'oooed’ over the strike and wrote it down.

They wouldn't bring it up again, talking about random things and trying to nudge Clark back into the conversation. But he didn't say much. He just… rolled his ball a little too fast a little too hard until he got the hang of it again.

And when it was over, no matter who won, they would drive the two back out to the farm.

--

Bruce kept up what amounted to polite conversation if he was pulled in.

He didn't remember who won.

He didn't remember what they said, or if he shook anyone’s hands as they dropped them off back at the Kent farm.

He wasn't as cold and detached as he'd been that morning, but he knew he was wading further from shore, and that he should pull himself back.

But he didn't want to do that around Clark right now.

Hot tea wouldn't pull back this.

--

When they pulled back into the farm Clark hung back at the car, if only for a minute.

…

“Thanks assholes, now he hates me.” He hissed and slammed the door a little too hard. It rocked the car and they yelled, but he didn't care.

He walked in behind Bruce and tried to tell his parents yes, they had fun, went bowling, tired now.

Up to his room.

--

….

Bruce followed.

Up to his room. Guest room. It wasn’t lavish or high quality, but it smelled a little dusty, like the manor, and he could choke on that a little and feel a bit better in the familiar prison of old and carefully preserved items.

‘Granny’ Clark had called it.

(Bruce’s grandparents had died by the time he was born. Parents married late by parents who married late by parents who married late.)

…

He managed to sit on the bed for a full five minutes, hands held carefully in each other and breathing slowly, heart steadying, before he locked it in place.

And he left the room, footsteps quiet as he could make them on the carpet, and went back downstairs.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Story idea: SNL monologue with Tom? Thank you Sam!!

SNL

Synopsis: Tom makes his SNL debut

Masterlist

“Tonight’s host, Tom Holland!”

Upon hearing his cue, Tom emerged from behind the curtains. He unbuttoned his jacket as he walked upstage. Tom waved to the audience and clasped his hands behind his back as he waited for the audiences applause to die down.

“Hello everybody. I’m very grateful to be here hosting Saturday Night Live for the first time. I am also very grateful that disney let me out of their basement.” Tom smiled as the audience laughed, breaking the ice. 

“They have me staying at a hotel just down the road from here.” Tom pointed behind him. “I’ve stayed there before actually. Not inside though. When Spider-Man was out of the MCU for awhile, I had to sleep on the streets and I set up camp right outside that hotel. Yes, I was homeless. Yes, I’m a millionaire. We exist.” Tom sized up the camera before breaking into a smile.

“I’m really excited to be doing comedy tonight. If you’ve seen my films, you know I’m usually crying or running away from something. That’s why when I told my parents that I’d be hosting SNL, my mum asked if my monologue was gonna be four straight minutes of me sobbing. Thanks mum.” Tom winked at the camera as the audience laughed.

“Another person I’d like to thank tonight is my beautiful girlfriend, y/n.” He paused while the audience clapped. “She always told me she’d be there for me no matter what. She left me for Chris Pratt when I was kicked out of the MCU, but she still sends me really supportive texts so it guess it still rings true.” Tom have a fake smile before pretending to break down in tears. “Y/n, please come back baby, I miss you so much. Chris isn’t even that attractive. He only has those abs for like, two months out of the whole year. Mine last for at least three.” Tom held up three fingers and wiped at invisible tears.

“I’m only kidding. Y/n and I have been together for three years. Unfortunately, I promised her I wasn’t gonna talk about her in my monologue, so those three years may be ending tonight. Sorry, darling.” He grimaced at the camera.

“Also here tonight is a fellow brit, Harry Styles.” The audience applauded again. “I don’t know who he is but when I told my girlfriend he was the musical guest, she died. Right there, she just died. She really did. I don’t hold a grudge against Harry or anything. It happens. People die, you guys ever see Avengers Endgame?” Tom pointed at the audience with a wicked smile as the got the joke. “Sorry, sorry. That was a low blow. I’m just really hoping Harry Styles is not backstage seducing my girlfriend right now. He came at the worst time, too. Have you seen how amazing his hair is?” Tom asked and the audience cheered. “I had to shave my head recently for a project I’m working on called Cherry. In response, my girlfriend has stopped calling me by my name. She calls me “Eleven”, “Mad Max fury road”.” Tom listed off and the audience laughed. “The whole title. She calls me the entire title of the movie. And maybe the most hurtful nickname of all, “Gypsy Rose Blanchard”.” Tom pretended to wipe another tear from his eye.

“Something a lot of people don’t know about me is that I’m a trained dancer. When I was little, I took ballet at a place called Nifty Feet.” Tom said and stared at the audience with a tired expression. “There’s no joke about it. The fact that my mother made me be a ballerina when I was seven years old is the joke.” He scowled.

“I was in a movie over the summer called Spider-Man: Far From Home with Jake Gyllenhaal.” Tom said and the audience clapped. “Thank you, thank you. Jake and I became really good friends actually. We started spending a lot of time together and formed a bit of a bromance, minus the “b”.” Tom said with a hand to the aide of his mouth as if he was whispering. “Anyway, my girlfriend started getting a little jealous and said I was spending way more time with Jake Gyllenhaal than I was with her. So one night when I had off the next day, she asks me to hang out. I tell her I’d love to, but I already made plans with Jake. I wasn’t lying either, Jake and I had plans to elope at a nearby church. So she gets all grumpy and I start getting ready, when Jake calls me and cancels our plans. So I go to her with my tail between my legs and I tell her we can hang out. She gets so excited and says we can just chill and watch a movie, and she’ll even let me pick. And for some reason, she got super angry with me when I put on Broke Back Mountain.” Tom shrugged and the audience burst into laughter.

“Hey Tom.” Harry Styles entered from stage right on cue and put an arm around Toms shoulders.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Tom asked as if he didn’t know Harry was coming.

“Well I was just backstage seducing your girlfriend and I thought I’d come say hello.” Harry smiled at the audience and waved to a few girls.

“He’s kidding.” Tom assured the audience.

“I’m not.” Harry said through his wide smile. He and Tom laughed for a moment.

“For real though, he’s kidding.” Tom said.

“I’m not.” Harry shook his head with that same smile as he clapped Tom on the back.

Tom and Harry looked at each other for a long time, letting awkward silence fill the theater. Finally, they broke into smiles and hugged each other dramatically.

“We have a great show tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Stay tuned for Harry Styles and enjoy the show!” Tom called out before walking off.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @sunrise-shawn  @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @autumnlyholland @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @ho-ho-holland @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @m19friend @justcallmehitgirl @iamanerdot @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines

[jadoue1999]

Wanda and the life she deserved (she’ll made sure of it) Chapter 7

Summary: After unknowingly saving Wanda from Agnes’ clutches, the Maximoff twins take walk.

Previous parts: Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 7: The circus

They continued walking for awhile, talking about their childhood. Wanda was aware that many memories coming from her brother were wrong, but she ignored it. It was nice talking to him alone. They had settled on finding Vision, she was certain he was around Ellis Avenue, his last known location. Wanting to make the moment last longer, Wanda requested that they didn’t use magic, or superspeed. Pietro had originally agreed, but his fidgeting was steadily increasing with each step they took. She spotted a circus where the abandoned Avenue once was. Unsure about what they might encounter, she turned to her twin. “I can go get Vision on my own, go help Agnes. I’m sure she’ll have enough stuff to do that you won’t even see the time pass.”

“You sure, sis? I can wait.” Pietro might have believed his words, but Wanda could see how much he wanted to run and move. She assured him she’d be fine, and he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Wanda looked up at the circus banner, finding irony in the state of the soldiers. Them, who wanted to understand the situation so badly, were now in it. How’s that for firsthand experience? She walked through the various performers, they were filling typical roles any circus would have clowns, gymnast, they even had a strong man and a psychic.

“Hello!” Greeted a man dress in a blue leotard, he was holding his nose that was obviously broken. “Are you here for any specific performance?”

She ignored the man’s injury, knowing S.W.O.R.D, he probably deserved it anyway. She looked around at the various entertainment, they were all pretty straightforward. Her eyes landed on one specific tent, the psychic. She decided to amuse herself and walked over, the board next to the tent read: Charles the Xtraordinary.

Coming in, it wasn’t all that impressive, there was a crystal ball at the center of the table and various cushions were laid on the ground. A bald man, probably in his forties, was seated on one side of the table.

“Welcome,” he said, opening his eyes to greet his guest. “I am Charles, I suppose you’re here to know your fortune?”

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Joked Wanda with a smirk.

The man returned her smile, “yes, I suppose so.” He motioned her to take a seat. ”Shall we begin?” As the man put his hands over the ball, it began to glow. Closing his eyes, the man hummed pensively, “I see pain, a lot of pain,” he sighed. “Oh, I’m sorry Wanda, so much loss.”

She froze in shock, she had met many psychics in her lifetime, but a circus charlatan certainly couldn’t be the real deal, right? But then again, how could he know her name, and what she lived through?

The man continued, “I see a great battle, one that was unfortunately lost. But then everything was made right,” he frowned, “but not for you. You were still alone.” Her senses were on high alert, her magic was pushing for a rewind, but she had to know more. She needed to know how he could achieve this. “I see... a breaking point, and great suffering. Oh Wanda... what have you done?”

Wanda couldn’t take it anymore, she had to know who he was. What kind of S.W.O.R.D. Agent was he? She tentatively lifted a hand to his temple and let her magic do the work. The man’s eyes opened, and he gasped as he was released from her spell. He looked around him, confused at his surroundings before gripping his head in pain. He looked at her, seemingly to thank her for releasing him before he froze. “Wanda Maximoff! What an honor to meet you!” Charles went to shake her hand, but she backed off before he could reach her. Although slightly taken aback from her movement, the psychic continued. “We have a slight misunderstanding here, your brother, Pietro as you call him, he’s not your brother, not really.” Charles paused as he tried to take in her reaction, but Wanda was unreadable. “You see, a team composed of myself and a couple of others, including his father, are here to bring him back. We crossed universes to get here, it took weeks to find the right calculations. Thanks to your broadcast, we had a good grounding point. The military base kept us updated about Peter. We were brought in as you expanded the Hex, even our member with teleportation powers couldn’t escape. I’m certain it wasn’t your intention to trap us, or Peter, but you have to let us go. We’re not from your universe, we don’t belong here, we- “

“No,” interrupted Wanda, startling the man. He certainly hadn’t expected that reaction. “This is my home, I have my husband, my children and my brother. I will not let you take them away.”

“Ms. Maximoff, you have to come to reason, you cannot keep up this lie forever. What you’re doing is wrong, putting an entire town under mind control- “

“Is better than putting the entire Earth under it,” completed Wanda. Her accent was out once again, rage oozing off her body as she stared at the man. She could feel his stare, and something else, it was nudging at her brain. A telepath, Wanda realized. She quickly shielded her mind and her magic acted without her realizing. In a move that could challenge her brother’s speed, she put the spell back on the man. Eager to finish this awful conversation and go home. She hadn’t found Vision, why had she even stayed? The consequences tied to the man’s words quickly clicked, Peter’s team was here, here for him. That could only mean that his father wasn’t far. If he was anything like her brother had described, she would be in trouble.

As she ran out of the tent, she looked around with more attention. In her frantic state, everything seemed so overwhelming, yet no one took notice of her panic. She couldn’t see much that was out of the ordinary, so she assumed that most clowns were probably soldiers.

‘That leave the specific role to...’ Wanda didn’t finish that thought as her eyes stopped on another attraction: Nightcrawler and his disappearing act. The psychic had mentioned a team, with one of their members not being able to teleport away in time. The irony of the name had to have meaning. Suddenly she stopped in her track. No, no, no, please. I’m not ready! She ran over to the banner, not wanting to believe the writing on it. There, written on bold red letters, was the confirmation that her little world couldn’t continue much longer.

 Magneto, the man of steel.

 Wanda supposed it was ironic that the man controlling metal was nicknamed like that, but then again, her magic had a twisted sense of humor. She quickly left the circus, appearance be damned; she used her magic to reach her house faster. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. Vision was apparently still mad at her, she wished she could make it better. Wanda made a mental note to sit down with him and apologize, he deserved to know the truth. Though right now, she was feeling better. She closed her front door, heading for Agnes’ house; she had missed her children. She ringed the doorbell, she could see movement inside and seconds later, her neighbor opened the door.

“Hi Wanda! Feeling better?”

“Yes, can I come in?”

Agnes opened the door wider to let her in, Wanda felt something was amiss, but she tossed her worry aside as her neighbor started offering drink options. She settled for a tea and sat at the table.

After a few moments, she noticed the eerie silence of the house, save from the television. There were no arguments about who could do something better than the other or even a reaction to whatever show the boys would be watching. There was also no sign of Pietro, no sign of anything being repaired either.

“Where are the twins?” Wanda asked, “and Pietro?”

Agnes paused the making of her tea, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and turned to her. “Oh, your brother is fixing a leaky pipe in the basement, I tried to tell the kids to leave him be, but they wanted to be with their uncle, so I let them go with him.”

That makes sense. Wanda wasn’t sure if her mind was being sarcastic or not. She opened the basement door, calling her children. After no answer came, she walked down the stairs, ignoring how creepy the basement slowly became after each step. Her instincts were screaming at her to run away, but she had to get to her boys. After calling their names once again and getting no answers, true bone chilling fear settled in her body. As she turned a corner next to a glowing door, she had only one thought. Please be alright.

She arrived in a bigger room, a lair? She walked around trying to make sense of the place. Wanda passed a cabinet containing various bones when she felt drawn to her right. A black book radiating orange energy was on the table. The gears in her head finally clicked. This is a dungeon, probably the very same dungeon Peter talked about. Get out, get out, get out-

“Wanda, Wanda,” Agnes’ voice resonated through the room. “You didn’t think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?” With a flick of her fingers, a far away door closed by itself. She resumed petting her rabbit, “the name’s Agatha Harkness, lovely to finally meet you dear.”

_____________________________________________________

Notes: The circus is in town! And it brought in unexpected visitors...

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Home body

Summary: quarantine with your friend Henry brings up some bottled down feeling between each other

Warning: NSFW. Friends will benefits relationship, fingering, light Angst, but most importantly Fluff

Pairing: Henry cavill x reader

Author note: this is really shitty. It took me a long time to finish

Word count: 2.3k

Masterlist | request closed momentarily

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome

The virus came all of a sudden. It surprised you and it did the same to Henry. He was supposed to be filming, but he couldn't. That pissed him off, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Fuck." Henry cursed into the phone. You laughed dryly. "What's wrong hen?" You know exactly what was wrong. He sighed into the phone. You could tell his fingers were running through his hair. "I'm just caught off guard with all of these." He muttered. 

You hummed softly understanding, "Yeah well we gotta quarantine until further notice." You breathed out. "I'm going to miss spending time with you." You felt butterflies interrupt in your stomach at your own words. 

Henry was silent for a brief moment, you thought he hung up. "Henry, are you still there?"

 "Yeah, yeah," he cleared his throat. "I was just thinking what if we quarantine together? You are going to be alone for awhile and so I'm I, so why don't we just quarantine together." 

You never even thought about that. It was a good idea. "Henry, that's a good idea. When should I come over?" You sat up waiting for Henry's answer. "Um… how about today? He asked you. "The sooner, the better."

A small smile creeped up onto your face. "Okay, I'm going to get packing then. I'll see you later." Henry smiled on the other end of the phone at your voice. "See you later." You hung up and got out of your bed walking to your closet. You pulled out your suitcase and started shoving your clothes in there. You weren't sure how long you were going to stay at his house, so you just put everything you could in the bag hoping it will be enough.

-♥-

As soon as your call ended, Henry went to make sure he had everything ready for when you came over. You have stayed at his house plenty of times, but it felt different this time. 

He made sure there were clean sheets on the bed in the guest bedroom. He made sure there was enough food in the fridge and made sure the whole house was clean overall.

He was happy that you agreed. He was really wanting to spend time with you, he felt like he hasn't done that enough. 

You had your bags packed. Your clothes, hair products and skin care products, Everything you needed. You put your things in the car and made sure you had everything before you left. When you noticed you had everything you got in your car and drove to Henry's house.

The drive to Henry house wasn't that long. You parked your car into the driveway, turning off your car and got out. You got your bags out of the trunk, slinging them over your shoulders.

Kal heard your car pull up and begin to bark. Henry walked to the window, pepping out. There you were. Henry felt his inside turn to mush at the sight of you. You were one of the most stunning women he has ever met, and that would never change.

Henry decided to stop staring at you through the window and greet you. He walked to his front door, opening it. "Y/n." 

You turned when you heard Henry call your name. He had a huge smile on his face as he walked up to you. "How are you?" You stopped what you were doing. "I'm doing good." Henry smiled at you, chuckling slightly. He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You laughed. "How about you, how are you Henry?" 

He pulled away looking at you. "I'm great. Happy that you're here." He said. You smiled. "Well let me get my bags." You grabbed your bags and walked into Henry's house. Henry watched as you walked into his House with a small Smirk on his face. You sat your bags down near the door and greeted the excited bear near the door. 

"Hi Kal. Oh I miss you too." He licked your face, his tail wagging hard. You almost fell to the ground, but Henry's hand rested on your back preventing you from falling. 

"Alright Kal let her breath." You stood up straight, picked your bags back up. "I'm going to go take these to the guest room, be right back." You hurried up stairs to the guest room. You opened the door a little bit placing the bag by the door before shutting it and walking back down the stairs.

Henry was waiting for you in the kitchen with two beers in his hand. You beamed seeing him. "Here you go darling." You happily took it, sipping at it briefly before pulling away with a sigh. Henry looked at you, your brown eyes that always sparkled meet his. A smile tugged on your face as it always does when you looked at him.

"So what are we going to do for the rest of the day?" You were waiting for an answer, but Henry was so engrossed by your stunning features that he didn't hear you. "Henry!" You snapped your fingers in his face causing him to snap out of his daze.

"Sorry, what?" His face turned bright red from being caught. "I asked you what are we going to do for the rest of the day?" Henry sighed. "Oh um… we can watch a movie and I'll make some dinner for us." You nodded, "okay, do you want me to help you?" 

Henry faced scrunched up at your question. "Uhh… no." You gasped acting shocked, but you know you can't cook for shit. "rude." You slapped him on the arm, Henry laughed. "You can't cook y/n, sorry." 

You sighed, nodded. "Alright fine. I'm just going to go change into something more comfortable and then I'll be back." Henry said okay and you walked off.

-♥-

You returned 10 minutes later wearing a slip on silk dress that you loved. Henry loved it too seeing you wear it a few times, but he's acting helped you not notice.

You walked back to the kitchen where Henry was cutting up a few veggies. A pant was on the stove heating up. Henry looked up when he heard you enter the room. He was about to say something, but he's breath was hitched when he saw what you were wearing. He loved how your skin glowed like gold in the black slip on.

"Alrighty." You took a seat on the kitchen island chair. "What are you making? "Honey garlic glazed salmon and some veggies." Your stomach rumbled at the thought. "Sounds nice." You got up and looked at him. 

"Well I'm going to go and pick a movie. I'll be waiting for you." Henry nodded, still chopping things up. You walked out of the room after getting your answer. Henry looked up and watched you walk off. His cock was starting to strain against his pants at the sight of your ass. He wasn't sure how to make it through quarantine with you.

-♥-

Henry finished making dinner and plated it up for you both. He walked into the living room seeing you petting Kal whose head was on your lap. "Here you are." Henry handed you your plate and sat beside you. 

Kal lifted his head up and tried to get a bite of your food. "No, no Kal. Not for you buddy." Kal whimpered, jumping off of the couch. You felt a little guilty, but began to eat your food. 

Henry's eyes were glued to the TV screen, deeply engrossed in the movie that was playing, at least that's what you thought. He's mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about that silk dress you had on and how he wanted it off of your body. He felt weird thinking the way he was thinking, but he couldn't keep them bottled down, especially when you're sitting beside him looking spectacular.

Henry shifted, trying to cover up his growing bulge. You looked over at Henry, you noticed his bulge right away.

"Hen, you okay?" You looked up at his eyes. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I'm good. Um I'll take your plate to the kitchen." He took the plate from your hand before you could say anything. You watched him walk off, he was turned on and you know it. You had an idea on how to fix that.

Henry returned a minute later sitting back beside you. "Alright let's finish watching the movie." He was getting comfortable on the couch when you reached for the remote control and paused the movie.

Harry looked at you confused. "Y/n what are you doing?" You swung your legs over his lap.

"Henry you think I didn't see your boner huh?" Henry's eyes widened slightly. "You uh noticed?" You nodded cupping his cheek. "Yeah. I'm starting to think maybe inviting me over is going to start something between us. Something that we have been hiding deep in ourselves for a long time. And Henry um I want to act on it." 

You leaned in kissing his cherry red lips. Henry was caught off guard, but warmed up to your lips quickly. You feel him getting hard under you again, you grinded down on his lap making Henry moan into the kiss. His hand went to your ass, messaging it and forcing you to grind on his cock all while his tongue was in your mouth.

Your panties were soaked. You pulled away from Henry's lips out of breath. "God I'm so wet for you Henry." You breath out. Henry growled lowly. "I'm so hard for you y/n." Henry wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you over so that you were laying on the couch. He hiked your dress up revealing your pink panties, your wetness was visible for Henry to see. He ran his fingers lightly over the spot, you whimpered at his teasing. "Henry stop teasing me." 

"He looked up at you, a smirk resting on his face. "You look so good when you beg." He pushed his hands past the waistband of your panties and ran his fingers down your soaking slit. He growled at your juice coating his fingers. "Mhm so wet for me." He circled your clit lightly, you looked at him, he was biting his lip as he played with you. You tried to grind on his fingers but Henry pulled away before you could even feel it.  He hooked his fingers around your panties pulling them down and tossing them to the floor.

 He started working at his belt, you watched him biting your lip. Henry pushed down his pants, next his boxers. His hard cock sprung free slapping against his low stomach. You groaned at his size.

You looked back up to his eyes. "Henry you're so big." You breathed out. He grabbed his Stroking it a few times. "Yeah, you like that?" His voice was so low that it made you shiver. "Yes I do." 

Henry chuckled softly, he knew what he was doing to you. He pushed your legs open so he could get better access to your sex. He ran his red tip through your wet fold collecting your juice. You moaned softly, shutting your eyes. 

Henry found your dripping core and pushed his tip in slowly so you can adjust to his size. You moaned out as he got deeper until he couldn't anymore. You opened your eyes looking at Henry. 

"Are you alright?" You smiled at him. Even though he was deep in you he was still the same sweetheart he always was. 

"Yes. You can move in me."Henry smiled slightly before he pushed your legs back against your chest and thrusted Into you. You moaned loudly at how good it felt. 

"Uh Henry… that feels so good." Henry gripped your legs tightly as he pushed into you. "His pace quickened as your juice made your walls slick.

"Fuck doll…. So tight and warm for me." He muttered under his breath. You wailed out as his tip brushed your g spot, he was making you feel so good and he knew it.

"Yeah doesn't that feel good? Huh, you like how my cock fills your tight wet hole?" He smiled as he asked you that question. You looked up at him. "Yes, yes fuck. You make me feel so good." 

Henry laughed deeply, it sounded so nice it ran straight to your core. Your wall fluttered around Henry's twitching cock. 

"You going to cum?" You nodded because you couldn't seem to find the words.  Henry groaned as he twitched in you. His thrust became sloppy, he was near his release. 

"I'm going to cum. Cum with me okay?" You whimpered out ok. He thrusted Into you repeatedly hitting your g spot perfectly. The heat in your stomach began to burst as you came, Henry came not far behind you, spilling his cum in you.

Your back arched off of the couch as your high took over your body. Henry grunts filled your ears as he Experienced his high. You could feel his cum leaking out of your hole. 

Opening your eyes; you looked up at Henry who was panting, but looking down at you. "Damn that was amazing." He slowly pulled out of you making you whimper at the loss of contact. 

You shut your legs and quickly stood up, but your legs gave in. Henry was quick to catch you. "Whoa You okay?" You laughed and stood up the best you could. "Yeah, you just fucked me up." Henry chuckled softly. "Here let me help you. Maybe we can take a shower together." He pushed your hair out of your face, running his thumb over your cheek.

"I think we should do that, but you gotta Carry me." Henry laughed, picking you up. "Alright." 

From that day forward you and Henry quarantined together. Sex, cuddles, him teaching you how to cook, lots of long showers together. This was definitely going to extend beyond quarantine, but you didn't mind. You're just happy you both got your feeling out there and that you both feel the same about each other.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

@iam-laiya @maya-the-cute-ass-bee @msblkfire84 @stephartrave @eevonhon @pieceofshittytitty @thereisa8ella @sausagefest1996 @grungeisntmything @palmstreesallday @ah-blossom @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @aaescritora @xxxkatxo

[serendipitywrites]

Unrequited?

childhood friends with benefits or perhaps more?

words 2,008 smut, slight angst so far 🔞 (hope you enjoy! this is my first time uploading smut.)

According to everyone else, you and Mingi are good friends, just good friends. They didn’t need to know anything else, even if sometimes your glances told them otherwise… it’s just that Mingi had a bit of a reputation for awhile now and honestly, even if it didn’t bother you, it bothered a lot of other people. He dated… a lot, well, if you can call it ‘dating’. Either way, you’ll always love him, platonically of course. 

You two decided to show up together at the first gathering of the summer. It felt like you and all your friends went to different colleges, had crazy busy jobs, or just moved away, so having everyone back always resulted in a party, nothing crazy, but it was always special. It felt like tradition. And god, you’d been missing them all, even more so Yunho. You’ve always had a bit of a deeper bond with Mingi and Yunho. even if you absolutely loved and cherished the others so very much, it was slightly deeper with them. 

Mingi went to the same college as you so you could see him more often than the others, but Yunho lived a couple of hours away because he’s been interning at his dads sales company. It felt like your ball of sunshine was turning into a business man.

Finally, you and Yunho were able to visit and catch up during the party, after playing beer pong with Jongho, you were tired from playing for so long, him being so competitive. 

you rested on the couch, your legs on Yunhos lap while he was excitedly telling you all about how his internship was going and all of his coworkers while resting his hands on your legs. You’ve always loved how affectionate he is and ate up whatever attention he gave you, it was normal for you two to be so close. no one looked twice or really cared about the skinship.

Well, except Mingi. 

Which is why he made some excuse to drag you upstairs in a hurry, something along the lines of ‘girl troubles’ which was actually true, he just never had any of that ‘trouble’ with you, since you were the one that was always there, long before he even had his first girlfriend. The rest of them just looked at their friend with an amused look on their faces.

Yunho of course just whines playfully as you leave for upstairs but lets you go. 

Which is how you ended up where you are now..

‘Fuck’ Mingi moans and grinds into you, the denim of his jeans rubbing roughly against your bare ass, your skirt hiked up to your waist, kneeling on all fours in a bathroom with rough tiles digging into your knees and palms. Classy, you think to yourself. 

You grind back onto him roughly and he grips your hips roughly in response. 

music echoes loudly outside the room, the party still going downstairs.

‘Mingi, hurry. We’re in a dirty ass bathroom’ you complain and push yourself against his clothed bulge, hoping he gets the message. He just chuckles at you ‘always so impatient’ the next thing you hear is him unbuckling his belt. Anticipation shudders through you, you can’t help but whine with need and wiggle your hips. Eventually, he pulls his briefs down and places the tip of his raw cock on your wet cunt, he teases it from your hole to your clit and your entire body tingles in need.

‘That shut you up, huh?’ his voice deep and laced with possession. as much as you want to respond all snarkily, you’re completely at this man’s mercy. ‘Please..’ you mumble through a moan. He must take mercy on you because not even a second later he is fully sheathed inside of you. Your wet heat sucking him in, already dripping off of him in excess. You moan so loudly that Mingi snorts behind you. ‘Really? That desperate?’ he smacks your ass and you feel yourself trembling, trying to keep from falling. No matter who you are with, no one compares to Mingi, and that includes your exes. It’s something you’ve known for years but try not too think too deeply into it, because honestly, it’s just sexual chemistry.

‘Just fuck me already.’ you sass, pushing yourself back on him. It must work because you feel him bruising your hips already, fucking you hard against the floor. you fucking love it. Mingi pauses for a minute and you panic, but calm once you feel his bare chest against your back, you get the full scent of his cologne and slight sweat that moment as well, suddenly you feel pride and nearly smug in how you were the one to make this man who has been with so many others, such a mess already. 

‘More please’ you whimper again in desperation ‘yes, princess’ he says, with less of a fight. He must be getting close. You’d say something if he wasn’t fucking you so hard that you had to struggle just to keep from falling over on the dirty floor, but it’s not like you both had the luxury of taking your time at the moment. Inside the bathroom, the loud smack of his hips against the fat of your ass and the wetness of your pussy sounds absolutely obscene. ‘How are you always so tight?’ he moans. you get even wetter, making a mess of Hongjoongs’ parents bathroom (sorry Joong~). He starts fucking into you even harder and you feel yourself also inching closer and closer to your peak. You both feel lost in the moment, delirious with your need to make one another cum. Your moaning loudly but trying to cover your mouth to muffle yourself, you know Mingi would usually complain but he also knows that you both need to be careful, careful to not mess with your group of friends dynamic, since that’s what matters most. 

He’s grinding inside of you, reaching places you or anyone else course never could. ‘Can I cum inside you?’ he asks breathily and with hope and his pace is beginning to stutter. As much as everything inside of you wants to say yes, you knew it would be a mess and you’ve both already been away for too long. ‘Not tonight, Gi’ he whines, disappointed, but keeps going. he shifts his grip and roughly turns you over so he can reach your clit, his long fingers rubbing quick circles into you, while he slips his thumb inside of you along with his dick. You’re so close already you’re about to cry. After another minute or so of him unrelentingly teasing your clit, you’re gasping and coming all over his cock. He’s still chasing his high, and with no time to come down, you’re feeling overly stimulated. ‘Did so good’ he praises you sweetly and sounding so spent. Your body is limp against his, him controlling the pace. He’s close, you can always tell. Suddenly he pulls out of you and you hear him groan and finish himself, his cum hitting your pussy. He pants, sweat dripping from his forehead. He lets out a goofy smile from up above you. ‘I guess I needed that’ he reaches for some toilet paper and gently wipes his cum from your skin. ‘Jesus, Gi. you couldn’t have waited till one of us left?’ you say, exhaustion in your voice. You realize you’re still laying on the floor when he grabs your hands to help you up. ‘Thanks’ you pull your skirt back into place and put your shirt back on. Thankfully, he didn’t take off your bra and toss it somewhere. It’s a bit awkward, you fixing your hair and attempting to look like you didn’t just have sex, let alone with all of your friends downstairs. Mingi already has his shirt back on and his hair looks just as good as it did, the only difference is that his cheeks are slightly flushed and sweaty. Fuck this man and his attractiveness. 

‘I’m gonna head back down, you good?’ he asks while fixing his hair again in the mirror. 

‘I’ll be down there in a few’ you reply. He comes to stand next to you in the mirror ‘yeah, you need a few. My bad’ he says cockily. you punch his shoulder ‘don’t flatter yourself. I’ll be a minute’ you snort. So, of course, he leaves the bathroom like nothing happened, because according to the rest of the party, nothing did. 

Once you deem yourself presentable you head downstairs. Yeosang greets you at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need a drink?’ he quirks an eyebrow. You hope he doesn’t notice your clothes in slight disarray. Then again, who would believe that you would be hooking up with Mingi, out of all people. 

You smile tiredly ‘so badly’ he giggles ‘i’ll be back with wine. There should be some in the kitchen somewhere, Not everyone enjoys shitty beer’ he says and heads to the kitchen.

You appreciate him, truly. Also, you hated beer and he knew that.

You notice that Yunho is still on the couch, drinking a beer. You decide to sit next to him again. He looks a bit lost in his thoughts and doesn’t notice you until you nudge your head against his shoulder ‘Tired already? I guess you are a working man now’ you gently poke his side, he in response smiles his bright and sunshine like smile. ‘Yeah, I think so. Just a long drive up here.’ he actually does look tired and it doesn’t sit well with you. ‘Want me to stay over? We can have a sleepover in the guest bedroom’ you rest your head on his shoulder, just wanting to spend more with him, knowing he will be leaving in a couple of days. ‘Yeah, I’d like that. Hwa is rooming with San and Wooyoung tonight, so you lucked out’ you both laugh softly. 

Yunho is staring past you, an amused look on his face.

‘How did Mingi find someone already?’ you turn around curiously and see Mingi talking to some girl in a tight pink dress… which, who even invited her? He has his hand on the small of her back and his dimples are showing. He couldn’t make it more obvious that your quick fuck in the bathroom meant nothing to him. You’re angry at yourself for caring, you truly are, but your only condition with Mingi was that he only see you when he wasn’t seeing others that same night. 

You didn’t know how hard you were staring until Yunho waves his hand in front of you ‘You good, y/n?’ you snap out of it instantly ‘yeah, sorry. I’ve just never seen her around before’

‘Ahh, she’s a friend of Hongjoongs brother. She just started university here’ he explains.

You nod and quickly look at them again before turning back to Yunho. ‘So, Yeosang is getting some wine, I’ll have him bring it to the guest room, maybe we can start a movie, all three of us?’ you say excitedly. ‘I’ll grab us some comforters’ Yunho says happily and with a smile. Soon, Yeosang heads back with the wine and you’re all heading upstairs to chill when Yeosang turns to you, a certain look on his face ‘y/n, your skirt is almost backwards’ you panic for a slight moment ‘i guess I messed it up using the restroom?’ Yeosang pretends to understand fully but still teases you over being messy. As you are heading upstairs again, you meet Mingis eyes and he just smirks at you, the girl still by his side.

Fucking smirks. Seriously? Yunho just grabs you and pulls you next to him, confused as to why you stopped.

You give your full attention back to Yunho and just ignore Mingi being a dick.

Eventually you find yourself about to fall asleep with the other two in sleeping bags next to you. Somehow your brain goes to thinking Mingi and that girl,

God, why do you even like him again? I mean, platonically of course. 

[writer-k-pop]

The Tailor (h.j.s) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.3k / Ending B - 4.3k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"And what would you like me to do about that?" Soon Bok asks loudly as I walk into the lobby. The guest standing in front of Soon Bok is standing with her arms crossed and a hip popped. I immediately know that the guest has been giving Soon Bok sass and Soon Bok doesn't take sass from guests.

"That's what I thought." Soon Bok says when the guest doesn't have anything to say, "Now, please, go and enjoy the hotel's amenities while I help other guests." Soon Bok bows politely as the biggest bitch slap she can give without actually laying a finger on the guest.

I snicker and take the long way to meet up with Soon Bok while avoiding the guest.

"Sassy?" I ask when I catch up with the rooms manager.

"You have no idea." Soon Bok breathes out. "She wanted me to change her room. And you wanna know her reasoning?"

I stay silent and let Soon Bok continue venting.

"Because she didn't like the rug. The freaking rug!" Soon Bok throws her hands up in the air in disbelief, "And then she has the nerve to ask me to move her room even though we are nearly fully booked with people checking in during the day and the night. Crazy bitch." Soon Bok grumbles with disgust.

I laugh and place a hand on her shoulder, "How did you ever survive here for so long, Soon Bok?"

"With great skill." Soon Bok jokes lightly. "Hey, have you seen Mun Hee? He was supposed to do something for me but he disappeared awhile ago."

I look around the lobby in search of our young receptionist. "He disappeared from me too. I'll go find him and tell him he's needed."

Soon Bok nods in thanks, "I'll be doing rounds in the 600 level."

"I'll send him right up." I say with a smile before breaking away to find Mun Hee.

I check around the lobby once more to make sure he isn't hiding behind some couch. But I have no luck. So I walk through the front reception doors to check his regular working station and low and behold, Mun Hee is sat behind the counter, scrolling through his phone, and laughing like he doesn't have a job that needs doing.

"Jang Mun Hee." I cross my arms over my chest and just stare at him. The sound of my voice startles him so much that he sends his phone tumbling across the desk and he stumbles as he stands on his feet.

"I-I wasn't scrolling through videos." Mun Hee stutters out a bad excuse, "I-I was doing research for our hotel."

I raise my eyebrows at him in suspicion and keep my mouth shut.

"I was watching videos." Mun Hee lowers his head in shame.

"Well, Soon Bok is looking for you." I tell him, uncrossing my arms.

Mun Hee's mouth drops open in realization. "Oh shoot. She asked me to print some things for her." His hands tap nervously against the desk, "Oh. Oh. Oh. (y/n) can you stay here for just a few minutes while I go do that? Please?" He asks.

I nod once, "She's in the 600 level."

Mun Hee clasps his hands together in thanks, "Oh, thank you, thank you." He rushes past me, "I'll be right back!" He says and yanks the door to the hotel open then is gone from my sight.

I shake my head and chuckle before making my way behind the desk. Standing behind the desk for the first time in hundreds of years, I run my hands over the polished wood. Behind me, a wall lists all the rooms available and each room number has a light next to it. The rooms who's light is turned off have a guest situated there. Seeing as our hotel is quite nearly full, most of the lights are turned off but there are still a good number lit.

The bell above the front door dings, announcing a guest's arrival.

"Welcome to the Waning-" I start the usual speech but stop when I see the guest's face.

"Hi. Am I in the right place?" The guest with Sang Kyu's face asks while looking around our pretty empty reception area.

"I, I can check that for you if you uh, would just show me your palm." I stutter in the face of one of my former human managers.

The guest with Sang Kyu's face willingly holds out his hand, palm up. I have to read over his palm a couple times to make sure I'm reading his lives correctly.

I breathe out in relief and the guest pulls his hand back.

"You actually will need to go find Hotel Blue Moon." I tell him. "Just follow the moon and it'll guide you there."

"I thought that's what I was doing." The guest tilts his head to the side and Sang Kyu's unique confused expression shows through loud and clear.

"You probably were following the moon's shadow." I explain, "The moon's shadow leads you here while the moon leads you to Hotel Blue Moon."

"Ah, I see. So follow the actual moon, yes?" The guest repeats my instructions.

I nod, "Yes, there you will rest before leaving to live another life."

"There's more after this life?" The guest's eyes widen and I'm reminded of Sang Kyu's first few days as a manager and how every single thing amazed him.

"There is." I smile softly.

"Thank you." The guest says and quickly makes his way out of the reception area.

I sigh as the door closes behind him, "The Gods have given you 8 lives. Live them well." I sigh again and continue to stare at the closed doors.

"Who was given 8 lives?" Mun Hee asks from behind me.

Startled, I whip around to face him while he has his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Mun Hee, don't sneak up on me like that." I scold him.

"Okay but who was given 8 lives?" He repeats his question, ignoring my fright.

"Sang Kyu's soul." I tell him and lean my forearms on the desk.

"Sang Kyu showed up?" Mun Hee asks and brushes his arm against mine as he copies my body posture.

"A future life did." I say, "But I had to send him to Hotel Blue Moon. His soul's not done yet."

"Damn, I missed him." Mun Hee says disappointed and I turn to face the board of rooms.

"He'll be back." I say, "Which room did Soon Bok put Joshua in?" I ask, searching the rooms as if they'll tell me.

Mun Hee turns around and points to a room with its light off, "312. And he's staying for 14 days. I read his palm." Mun Hee adds before I can say anything.

"Two weeks?" I rephrase the duration of Joshua's stay, "That's so long."

"But it also means he lived a lot of lives, which is good, right?" Mun Hee questions.

"I'm impatient." I give him a lazy smile and push away from the desk to head back into the hotel.

"Oh, are you not going to hang out with me?" Mun Hee asks, his eyes following my movements.

I pause with my hand on the doors and chuckle, "I wish I could, Mun Hee, but you have your job and I have my job. I'll see you later." I wave at him and open the door to the bustling lobby.

~The Fourteenth Day~

I sigh and set down my pen after signing the 19th form of the day and I've only been awake for an hour. With one hand, I close the final folder and the other brings the champagne flute to my mouth. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes after setting the flute back down on my desk. My ears listen to the soft orchestral music I put on for background noise and stretch out my wrist.

"It's just around the corner." Chung Ho argues from the driver's seat. "And it'll only take like six seconds. I just have to pick up my suit jacket."

"Can't you do it on your way home?" I groan and sink further into my seat.

Chung Ho shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road, "I need it for the thing I have after I get off."

"I'll let you leave early." I try to bargain cause I really just want to lie in my bed and ignore both worlds.

Chung Ho gestures to the road in front of him, "We're basically here. Stop complaining," He turns down a side street full of shops. "You can brood and sulk soon."

I humph and turn my head towards my side window.

The shops we pass are brick-and-mortar stores but most seem to be busy as there are a good amount of people out and about.

Chung Ho parks the car outside of a tailor shop and turns the car off.

"I'll be right back. Wait here." He instructs me and I scoff that he's giving me instructions.

He leaves the car and walks into the store. The store front is quieter than the other surrounding stores and there are some sharp suits set up on mannequins in the front windows.

"Doesn't look too shabby." I mutter and peel my eyes back to the inside of the car.

I turn my attention back to the inside of car where Chung Ho's wallet sits. My hand wraps around the wallet sitting in the center console. Worried that he'll need it, I exit the car and quickly make my way inside the shop.

Chung Ho stands at the counter, patiently waiting for someone, and I make my way over.

Holding out his wallet to him, I announce my presence, "You left this in the car."

He looks down and then up at me, "You do have a heart." He jabs at me like a little sibling.

I roll my eyes as someone approaches with a suit jacket in a clear plastic covering. He's dressed in slacks and a freshly pressed button up shirt. And I have to say he looks quite good. I read his name off of his name tag: Joshua.

"Here you are." Joshua lays out the jacket on the counter then points out where he fixed it but I can't actually tell, "I fixed the stitching on the pocket and the buttons on the sleeves. And there was some loose stitching on the inner layer so I fixed that as well."

"It looks amazing. Thank you." Chung Ho runs his hands over the front of the jacket and pockets his wallet.

As Chung Ho picks up his jacket, Joshua turns to me.

"Have you been helped yet, miss?" He asks and I'm taken aback not expecting it.

"I, I'm with him." I gesture to Chung Ho who is trying so hard to stifle a laugh.

"I see." Joshua looks between us, "Well, if you need anything tailored or custom made, do stop in."

"Thank you." I smile, slightly off put by the normality of his tone.

"Oh, here, take my business card." Joshua hands over a small piece of paper, "My name's Joshua." He smiles and my mind burns the sweet sight deep into my memory.

Quick and consistent knocking brings me out of the memory and I sit up, rubbing my eyes.

"Who is it?" I ask, my voice laced with sleep.

Jiwoo opens the door and stands halfway in the doorway, "It's me."

"Mm, come in." I run my hands through my hair, pushing through the small knots that had formed during my nap.

"You signed all the forms?" Jiwoo asks, noticing the large stacks on my desk.

"Yupp." I say and pop the 'p.'

"Did you even read them?" He asks and raises a questioning eyebrow.

I shrug, "I skimmed."

Jiwoo shakes his head and then scoops of the files, "Soon Bok brought Joshua down just now. You better get going. Don't want to keep your man waiting." He says and winks at me.

I chuckle and quickly make my way out of my office with a wave of goodbye. My heels notify the hotel walls that this boss lady is not to be disturbed on her way to her garden.

When I reach the garden, Joshua is standing, facing me with his head bowed and his hands clasped behind his back. He hears my footsteps and lifts his head up. A smile grows on his face and mine does the same.

"Hey, stranger." Joshua says with a light chuckle.

I run into his arms and sigh happily. "Joshua."

Joshua pulls back and his eyes gaze over my face while he tucks some of my hair behind my ear. "God, you haven't changed a bit." He whispers.

I shyly laugh and Joshua chuckles at my reaction.

"How have you been?" Joshua asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"I've been... existing." I answer him.

"Just existing?" Joshua raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I was living for a while but then I had to wait and at that point I was just existing." I explain then turn the question onto him, "How was your stay?"

"Really nice." Joshua says slightly surprised, "You run a really nice hotel."

"What, did you think I was running an old moldy motel?" I question with a laugh.

Joshua quickly shakes his head, "No, no. I just never expected the after life to be this... extravagant."

"We get our money from the Gods and they do not disappoint." I say with a smug smile. "Plus this is only the beginning, there's still the other side."

Joshua wiggles his eyebrows playfully and twirls me in a circle. "Sounds exciting."

I land back in his arms and he looks around the garden.

"So is this your private garden?" Joshua asks, keeping one arm wrapped around your shoulders while turning his body towards the tree.

"This is." I say, "And that's the tree that keeps me tied here like a chained dog."

"Ah, don't drag innocent dogs into this." Joshua pouts, "Well, you keep it in good condition."

"It keeps itself like that." I tell him and lead him towards the tree. "The Gods use it as a twisted reminder of why I'm running this hotel."

I pull his hand and rest it against the trunk of the tree. "Do you feel it?"

Joshua tilts his head to the side, "What am I supposed to feel?"

I smile softly at him, "Close your eyes and focus on the tree." I tell him and let go of his hand as not to interfere.

"Okay." Joshua whispers and closes his eyes. After a few seconds, he opens his eyes again. "There's a faint heartbeat."

"It's mine." I lean in close to tell him the secret.

"So you are alive." Joshua teases and boops my nose.

"Just cause I have a heartbeat doesn't mean I'm alive." I argue and walk back to sit on the bench.

"Always the stubborn one, aren't you?" Joshua asks, taking a seat next to me on the bench.

I scrunch my face up at him then move the conversation away from the topic of me. "I have a question."

"Ask your question." Joshua says dramatically.

"That first day we met, why did you assume I was just another customer?" I ask and Joshua's face flushes with embarrassment.

"That was so embarrassing." He covers his face with his hands. I giggle and pull his hands away. His cheeks are flushed pink and he smiles sheepishly.

"I thought it was kind of cute." I tell him.

Joshua chuckles while he exhales, "Well, if I'm being completely honest, it was your clothes."

"My clothes?" I question and look down at my outfit.

"Not the ones you're wearing, silly." Joshua nudges his shoulder against mine, "The day you walked in with your friend you were wearing at least what looked like high end stuff and your friend was wearing a lower level of fashion."

"How could you tell it was high end?" I continue to probe into his explanation.

"Have you already forgotten what I did for a living?" Joshua asks, slightly offended but then continues his explanation, "The fabrics your dress was made out of and, not that I was looking," He lays out his defense, "The stitching on your dress was flawless. Damn near perfect."

"You got all that from the what, one minute we were standing in front of each other?" I wonder.

"Uh, yeah." Joshua responds with sass, "I'm a tailor. It's what I did for a living."

"So you totally judged us." I sum up.

"Oh, I totally judged you." Joshua laughs and I join in with him. "Just don't tell your friend that."

"You really don't remember his name?" I ask.

"I was kind of focused on you." Joshua smirks.

I breathe out, "Well, lucky for you, I haven't seen Chung Ho pass through this hotel yet. So he's still out there living lives." I lean in closer to Joshua and poke his tummy. "Speaking of lives, you, sir, lived a fair amount."

"Fourteen is a fair amount?" Joshua wonders. "I thought I would've lived more."

"More than fourteen lives?" I repeat incredulously, "Fourteen lives is a lot! Most souls only live like 5 to 9 lives. You had fourteen."

Joshua laughs in defeat, "Alright, so I lived more than the average number of lives but I still thought I would've lived more."

"The Gods decide all that and I'm pretty sure they spin a wheel to see how many lives each soul will live." I explain and try to joke at the same time. "Which life was your favorite?"

"Hmm." Joshua hums in thought, "My first. Cause you were in it." He lazily smiles.

"That's biased." I roll my eyes.

"No but I am serious about my favorite being my first." Joshua explains, "The clothes I made and the clothes I fixed, I don't know, there was just sometime about the work that I didn't find in any of my other lives."

"So you like using your hands." I conclude and start playing with his hand.

Joshua chuckles and grips my hand securely. "My hands are everything. I get to hold my most favorite thing in my hands." He holds up your interlocked hands for emphasis.

"And what was your favorite part about making or fixing the clothes?" I ask, leaning in closer and listening to the echo of his heartbeat. Strong and steady.

Joshua shrugs underneath me, "The feeling of the cloth underneath my fingers and the motion of sewing the pieces together was just, soothing? Calming?" He searches for the right word.

"I get it." I nod in understanding. "Plus, you always made the seams nearly invisible. You were so good."

"Only for you." Joshua whispered and planted a kiss to the top of my head.

"Nah, I couldn't have been the only one." I deny.

"You're right. You weren't the only one." Joshua states simply and I still at his answer, "I did it for my kids, also."

A smile grows on my face, "Kids? You had kids?"

Joshua mirrors the smile on my face and nods, "I had two. Two girls." He explains.

"Tell me about them." I ask, looking up at him and he settles more comfortably with me.

"What do you want to know?" Joshua asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer.

"Everything." I exhale happily, ready to dive into the stories of Joshua's first life.

Joshua chuckles but easily begins telling me all about his girls. Where they went to school, what they ended up doing after college, and even some of their embarrassing stories-many of which he took part in. I listen with admiration as he claims that because of me and my wardrobe full of dresses, he was well versed in the world of dress tailoring.

From his children, he moved onto the shop and how it faired over the years. How he couldn't find a successor for it and it retired when he did. The things he did in retirement and the few grandchildren his daughters gave him. He even lived long enough to meet a couple of his great grandchild.

In between the stories, we'd sometimes get sidetracked and start talking about our own memories. From the happy ones when we had chaotic dates and amazing adventures to the less happy ones where we had our arguments or when I had to return to the hotel for long periods of times and I couldn't tell him where I was going.

As the last of the stories are told, the sun also tells its last stories while it bids the day goodbye.

And it also signals the goodbye I have to say to Joshua.

Joshua sighs and kisses my head then rests his cheek on the top of my head. "My turn to go, huh?" He murmurs.

I slowly nod, "Your turn to go."

"And if I don't want to?" He questions, slumping onto me.

"We don't really have a choice, Joshua." I giggle as my body starts to bend underneath his dead weight.

Joshua pouts like a child and I shake my head.

"You, sir, are a child." I tell him with a laugh.

"My soul is still so young." Joshua says and dramatically places a hand over his heart. "And now it must go to an eternal rest. How unfair and cruel is this world." Joshua flails his body out.

I stand up with an exhale, "Alright, my love. You have a soul that needs resting." I grab his hands one at a time and try to pull him up but he does nothing to help me. He even closes his eyes.

"Joshua..." I drag out his name.

He peeks at me through half opened eyes before suppressing a smile and closing his eyes again.

I cross my arms and tilt my head to the side, "Joshua, come on. I don't want this anymore than you do but come on. Please?"

Joshua sighs in defeat and holds out his hands while opening and closing his fists. Much like a child. "Help me up." He says.

I roll my eyes playfully but give into his request and grab his hands. When he stands, he pulls me so we're standing chest to chest and looks down at me with a look that I can't quite place.

"What?" I ask and he smirks.

"Can't I take in the beauty of the woman I love for a last time?" Joshua questions me.

I release one of his hands and lead him out of the garden, "Yes you can, but you are on a deadline."

Joshua mumbles nonsense and wraps his arms around my waist from behind. "Do you think the weather will be nice over there?" He asks, nuzzling his face into my neck.

"I'm sure the weather will be beautiful over there." I chuckle.

As we enter the lobby, Joshua lightly kisses my neck and a shiver runs down my spine.

"Joshua, behave." I scold him, "The guests will be awake soon."

"Sooo?" He drags out the word in a low voice.

"Joshua." I elbow his stomach, telling him that he seriously needs to stop.

Joshua pulls back and falls in step next to me, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm just really going to miss you." He explains

"I know." I smile at him as we near the departure door.

Joshua reaches out and opens the door. The night air wastes no time rushing into the hotel. We both stand shoulder to shoulder looking out towards the forest, neither of us aying a word.

That is until the wind blows the sound of an idling engine in our direction. Joshua hears it as well and starts walking forward with me in tow. We walk in silence but Joshua's grip on my hand doesn't lessen one bit. Our footsteps slow as we approach Shin standing next to the idling car.

I take in a deep breath and try to release my hand from Joshua's grasp but he doesn't let go.

"Promise me something?" He asks, reaching into his other pocket.

"Anything."  I say, my voice not coming out as strong as I would've liked.

Joshua gives me a small smile and brings something out of his pocket. The colorful cloth floats in the wind and some gold sparkles under the growing moonlight.

"Keep this close." He says and places the cloth in my hand, closing my fingers around it.

I open the fabric in my hands. The deep blue silk is soft against my fingers and I know exactly where i've met this fabric before. It was Joshua's favorite handkerchief.

My hands close over the cloth, "I promise." I promise and Joshua nods in satisfaction.

Joshua leans down and places a sweet kiss on my lips. For those two seconds, I spend the entire time memorizing how his lips feels against mine and how they mold with mine as easily as chocolate sets in a mold. And all too soon, Joshua pulls away and smiles sweetly at me.

Without another word, I watch him walk to the car and lower himself into it. I watch as the car door shuts at the sound solidifies Joshua's exit from this world.

My grip on the handkerchief tightens as the car drives away. I pray that the Gods won't take this last shred of Joshua away from me but of course, they don't listen to me.

Minutes after the car disappears into the forest fog, the satin slowly disappears until all that's left in my grasp is air.

When the cloth has fully disappeared, a white chrysanthemum withers and dies back in the garden. Then I turn back to the hotel and walk straight to my office and lock myself away to wait for the next to arrive.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"I wonder which one was right." Joshua says, uncrossing his legs in preparation to stand up.

"Which one was right?" I repeat his question in confusion.

"Which religion was right." Joshua explains, "I was always a Christian but I wonder which one actually had it right."

I smile at his thoughts, "They all are." I tell him, leaning towards him, "That's why they're called 'Gods' and not 'God.'"

"And no one knows." Joshua says in awe.

"Not until they come here." I smile and rise to my feet, "So let's go see it."

Joshua jumps to his feet, "Let's go." He smiles widely and grabs my hand. He leads me out of the garden with a little spring in his step. But as we near the lobby, my footsteps begin getting heavier.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Joshua grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Joshua and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Joshua softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Joshua securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

[yamithediaperdork]

Baby of the family OR Birthday wishes are tricky pt 1 (Power pack)

Baby of the family OR Birthday wishes are tricky

It was Alex's 15th birthday and while he found the party his parents were throwing him to be a little cheesy and childish. He did understand though at a certain level this party wasn't just for him even though it should of been. Being the oldest meant his needs were put on the back burner for Julie or Jack's or Katie's needs, and toss in Katie was STILL wetting the bed at 8 years old (and wearing pull ups for longer car trips) and well, he'd basically had to become a mini adult. it was Katie and Jack who drew his attention now, watching them run around the living room with Jack having apparently stolen Katie's stuffie again. 'You know, for someone who so desperately wants to be man of the house..he needs to stop being such a bully.' Alex thought and went to move over to stop him. "Don't worry Birthday boy, I got this." Julie said, holding up a hand and marching over. his oldest sister and still younger then him, Alex smirked as he watched Julie snag jack by the ear and march him over to say sorry to Katie. having a big sister like Katie would of been sooo cool growing up, he watched Julie interact with Katie and Jack lots and while her and Jack didn't always get along, she tried. "alright everyone, to the table. time for the birthday boy to blow out the candle!" Came Mr.Parker's voice. His parents just knew of him as a nice guy who had recently moved into the neighborhood to help look after his aunt but of course Alex and the others knew the truth. Mousey gentle Peter Parker was really spider-man. And he wasn't even the only superhero at the party! of course with the kids being the hero team known as power pack one would expect a few heroes to show up but mom and dad were actually STILL clueless about the powers. That said Jack being best friends with Franklin Richards, AKA the son of Reed and Sue Richards meant that not only Franklin but Johnny and Sue had a excuse to come over. (the thing while loving birthday party's had excused himself apparently upset when he was told he couldn't go in the bounce house this time, while reed who Alex had hoped would show up had gotten busy with a experiment.) Mix in the other kids who'd been invited and a whole lotta people were singing happy birthday to Alex as his barbie princess cake (He'd made the mistake of asking Katie to pick out a cake for him) was carried over and he closed his eyes and thought of a wish. 'I wish I could be the baby of the family for once. see what it's like to be like Katie.' he thought, then blew.

The party went on for awhile longer but soon guests were excused and some of the family had to get ready for bed.  and by some of the family that meant Katie on her back in the living room, both hands on a sippy cup of warm milk and watching the last of a cartoon movie as Julie got her tapped up in her thick bed time diapers. Of course they didn't WANT to put the 8 year old back in diaper diapers, but without how much Katie flooded the bed there was no choice. heck, the car trip Pull up's were starting not to be enough. the sippy cup was because once it got close to her bed lately Katie seemed to zone out and as funny as seeing her dump a drink on her face was, the clean up was awful and she had started asking for warm milk before bed and no one wanted her to burn herself. "hey Alex, I know your the birthday boy and all, but my show is coming on and if I don't claim the tv now Jack will put it on something stupid and say he was there first just to tick me off...you mind?" Julie asked, scooping up the almost asleep now padded Katie and offering her to him. "heh, I got this." Alex said and took Katie who oddly..seemed heavier then normal. 'must be from all the sweets she packed away.' Alex thought and struggling to not show he was having a little bit of trouble, carried her up the stairs.

with Katie bear in bed, Alex yawned big time and headed for the bathroom. it was only going on 8 pm but he felt just wiped as he paused to look in the mirror. 'no bags under my eyes and I look ok..maybe it's just sugar crash.' Alex thought and shrugged. Normally one to put off his shower till right before bed, Alex started the water running and heating up as he stripped and answered natures call, then got in and started to wash himself. on a silly whim he made use of one of the pink extra soft cloths they used on Katie because of her baby soft skin and also used some of the fruity smelling princess shampoo she had, giggling and picturing a old bugs bunny cartoon as he lathered up his hair.

Downstairs Julie and Jack exchange puzzled faces as the water started up for a shower. Mom and dad were a few doors down meeting aunt May and Alex never went for a early shower unless forced too. heck, you could set a clock to his shower time! "..Maybe Katie sprung a leak already and he's cleaning her?" Jack suggest and shrugged a little. "no way! those new diapers are MASSIVE! even a little pee princess like her couldn't make them leak THIS fast." Julie said shaking her head. "welp, that's all I got. Maybe he just wanted to cover up the sound of his taking a massive dump. you KNOW how much he blushes when we tease him." Jack laughed. "Pffft yeah..mister gruntzilla. I think the whole block knows when he's going he grunts and whimpers so loud. " Julie snickered. "Remember when Katie knocked down the bathroom door convinced he was being attacked because he kept going..oh god..what was it.." "Oh! 'please god please god Oh oH oHHH!'" Julie said, mimicking Alex's whimpers of despair. "Bwhahahaha yeah! That was when he took too much diarrhea medicine because he had to give a speech to the whole school and kept getting the runs." "then couldn't unload for five days. yeah. Mom and Dad were gonna take him to the ER if he hadn't of gone when he did." the middle siblings laughed and shared more embarrassing stories about their respective roomies as the TV show was forgotten.

Alex was swaying back and forth on his feet, having fallen asleep standing up in the shower and only woken up when the cold water hit him. He was shivering a little from that but mostly moved as if drunk he was just sooo tired out of the blue and hauled himself out of the shower and turned it off and grabbed a large white towel and started to dry himself but was doing a worse job of it then Katie had when she was 5. shrugging it off he just wrapped it around him like a damp clock and made his way into his way into his and Jack's room, and headed for his dresser. deciding to go with a KISS solution since he was so tired, Alex just tugged on a pair of old white briefs (he'd been avoiding them lately despite liking their cut better then boxers because Jack kept calling them toddler pants) Tossing the wet towel in the hamper Alex stumbled over to his bed and plopped down, face first and was out like a light before he could even cover up.

around 9 was Jack's bed time and their parents where back, having asked where Alex was and Julie and Jack told them as far as they knew, he'd gone to bed. Making his way upstairs Jack had 'somehow' managed to put off taking his shower and gosh, would just have to get it in tomorrow. It wasn't that Jack didn't care for showers or liked being stinky, just there was ALWAYS something better to do then take a shower. Coming into the room he shared with his dweeb of a big brother, Jack noted that the light was still on which meant Alex had to of been super tired since he was super OCD about turning off lights if they weren't being used. Looking over Jack snorted at the site of Alex on his back, legs and left arm sprawled out in his bed while he was sucking on his right thumb, in just his toddler pants. 'what a doofus.' Jack thought and shook his head. Doofus or not, he was still his brother and Jack didn't want the dork to get a cold.  with that in mind he tugged Alex's Blanket up over him, then as a after thought grabbed one of his own old stuffies (that he was keeping around because they'd be worth money some day. not that he still totally needed ot loved them!) and held out Mr. Fuzzy wuzzy , having it brush on the blonds arm. Alex reached out with his free arm in his sleep, coming out from under the blanket and whined around his thumb. "whoa..too much cake and pop and Alex goes baby brained! awesome!" Jack thought with a grin but then let the big toddler have the stuffie and huggle it. 'I'm going soft in old age.' Jack thought to himself then after changing into just his boxers got the lights and climbed into bed.

In a universe where a god of Myth fought alongside with a world war 2 hero, a man who had built his own battle armor and well, any number of different heroes and villains and forces exist, it was amazing that random wishes weren't picked up by more cosmic being's who might just answer them. and for the most part, it's a good thing that most of these are ignored because Alex was about to learn what happened when a simple wish can get granted, at least to a degree.

Alex hung his head in shame as he showed his parents what had happened the next morning. Having always told Julie, Jack and many many times Katie that they should be honest with their parents if they have accidents, it had been Alex's turn to practice what he preached when he'd woken up this morning in a very soggy bed. Thankfully it didn't smell THAT bad and mom and dad were going to open the windows and air out the mattress in the back yard, but Alex was still SUPER ashamed. He'd of course gone and gotten washed up but came back to find the others in his and Jack's room, and two out of three of them were being less then nice with no mom or dad in site to call them off. "Sheesh, and I thought I dodged having to deal with anything worse then you with a milkshake in you!" Jack said, holding his nose and waving a hand. "Oh puh-lkease. you think this is bad? try waking up in a diaper pail everyday because of pee princess here." Julie said, and jerked a thumb at Katie. "H-hey! don't be meanies!" Katie huffed and then turned to a mortified Alex, patting his leg. "It's OK Alex, accidents happen. but worse case you can come into my room. as Julie said..it uh..kinda smells.." "Kinda?" Julie asked and then shuddered. "and that's all i need, twin pee fountains going off in stereo." "I-it's not that bad!" Alex whined. "and really? Little miss farts rainbows is gonna start giving lip about sleeping arrangements!?!" Katie added as Julie's cheeks flared red now. "we talked about that,m you're not su-" "and YOUR not 'pose to complain about me either. fair's fair." Katie said and nodded her head. Alex gave Katie a weak smile. "heh, thanks for coming to my defense..kinda, Katie bear." Alex said and gave er a hug. He was sure this would prove to be a just one time thing, and as such, tried to put it out of his mind as much as he could when a look out the window showed his mattress being set up in the back yard.

[roguesandsaviors]

Dinner Date

Fandom: Grudge Match

Characters: BJ Rose, Shea (OFC), Trey

Pairing: BJ x Shea (OFC)

Summary: An unexpected snag causes BJ and Shea to change up their first date plans.

Word Count: 2,210

Rating: SFW

Warning: None

A/N: A direct follow up to First Meetings. The idea wouldn’t leave me alone but it took me awhile to write. Hopefully everyone enjoys. Happy holidays and for those that don’t celebrate or have a hard time this time of year, hopefully this grants a small smile. Any mistakes are my own.

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

BJ took one last glance at himself in the mirror, feeling conscious for once about how he looked. Ninety five percent of the time, he lived in sweats. It wasn't a problem with his job unless he had to be at a game. This was a completely different situation though, one that he hadn't dealt with in many years. There was an actual jitter, a nervousness that accompanied the need to ensure he looked put together. The dinner with Shea was looming overhead.

He was ready by three thirty to make sure that there wasn't any sort of hang up. The plan was to pick her up around five thirty. That was the idea until he ended up getting a call from his mom. She wasn't feeling well enough to be able to watch Trey. His stomach dropped but he knew that he couldn't put that on her. She rarely ever backed out, which meant she really wasn't feeling well. Trey was his and that meant that he had to push back whatever was supposed to happen with Shea. Once again, he had the thought that he wasn't in high school.

She had said she wouldn't be home until five, but it wouldn't be polite to wait until then when he knew that the dinner would have to be postponed. So, he sent her a quick text.

I'm sorry Shea. Turns out my mom can't watch Trey tonight. Can we reschedule the dinner?

The seconds crept by as he waited for a reply, even when logically he knew that she might not be able to respond right away. His stomach rolled and he picked up his son from school, giving him no signs that anything was remotely wrong.

The phone buzzed on the ride home but he couldn't look at it. Ushering the young boy inside, he finally freed the phone from his pants. There were three texts of Shea.

You don't need to be sorry. If it isn't too much, I could always cook for the both of you at my place.

That is, if you are okay with that and Trey is too.

I'm sorry. That is super forward and I completely understand if you aren't comfortable.

For a second, all BJ could do was stare at the texts, reading them over and over as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. She was offering to cook for him and his son after he had asked her out on a date. It seemed a little surreal. Of course then there was the panic that she had somehow overstepped some boundaries. It was sweet of her. BJ took a second to let out a breath and found himself smiling. It was more than what some other women had done. Trey was the most important thing to him and someone he was going to be with had to understand that. She clearly did already since she was including him in this dinner.

Trey had shed his backpack and already gotten himself a drink. She was seeking Trey's acceptance so he might as well ask him.

"Hey bud, come here for a second. I got a question for ya."

"Yeah dad?" Trey wandered over and waited patiently.

"How do you feel about going out for dinner tonight?"

"Like The Stadium?" BJ chuckled and shook his head.

"Nah. Not tonight. You remember Shea from the gym?" He got a nod and continued on. "Well, she offered to make us some dinner if you were okay with that." Trey was eyeing him by now and he knew that those cogs in his head were turning full speed. Sometimes he was too smart for his own good but he was still just an eight year old.

"What's she making?"

"That I don't know. I didn't tell her we were coming yet."

"Well you should do that. How are we supposed to get the food if she doesn't know?"

"I'm going to take care of that right now. Don't you worry." BJ smiled and felt a little more at ease about the whole evening.

You sure that's not too much trouble?

Not at all. Wouldn't have offered if it was. Is 6:30 too late for you guys? Need a little time to throw something together.

Nope. Works perfect.

BJ felt surprised once she had texted the address, the need for quick thinking and nerves set aside for now. They barely knew each other from the gym and she was willing to allow him over to her house. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing but he wasn't going to allow himself to second guess anything. The rest of the evening could be played out before he made any judgement on something like that.

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

He arrived at the house, easily getting Trey out of his car seat before walking to the front door. Trey  was excited and knocked for them both.

Shea opened the door with a smile.

"Good evening." She stepped aside to let them in. "Please come in."

"Hi Shea!" Trey was chipper and stepped right in, causing a soft laugh to come from BJ as he followed her in.

"Wait a second there. You know you gotta ask if you need to take your shoes off." Trey stopped right in his tracks and turned to look at Shea.

"It's okay. If you don't mind, that would be great." Shea answered with a small smile. "I can take your backpack if you want." Trey handed it over without question and she moved to set it on a hook, one low enough that Trey would still be able to reach it. It struck BJ as odd but he kept his questions to himself for now.

"It smells good in here," BJ complimented.

"Thank you. I wasn't sure what you might like so I went with a few things I was most comfortable making."

"We aren't picky eaters at all. A homemade meal is not something we will complain about."

"Good." She offered them both a smile. Leading them into the house more, she motioned for them to take a seat. "Please make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready in just a couple minutes." Trey immediately climbed onto the couch and got himself comfortable. The kid could make himself comfortable anywhere though and BJ knew that it wasn't a bad thing.

"Can I do anything to help?" Shea shook her head and motioned for him to sit down.

"Nope. Not at all. It's almost done. You are my guest and that means you get to relax." She disappeared into the kitchen but it only took a moment for her to call out. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Ice tea!" Trey answered. BJ reached out and ruffled the boy's hair.

"Ice tea sounds good if you have it."

"Two ice teas coming right up." There was some clinking of glasses before Shea appeared again with a glass in one hand and a cup for Trey in the other. "Here you guys go."

"Thank you," Trey offered, without prompt. Shea gave him a smile.

"You are welcome."

True to her word, the dinner was done in a few minutes. She had plates on the table and was smiling the entire time.

"Some homemade mac and cheese with some chicken for you Trey." If it was possible, it made the eight year old more excited. He already had his fork in hand. "And some orange chicken kale stir fry for us." He was impressed that she had managed to make two meals in a short span of time. Especially a homemade mac and cheese. He settled in at the table.

"Thank you. You didn't have to go through the trouble of cooking two separate dinners." She shrugged it off with a small laugh.

"It's something I'm used to. My sister's kid practically lives off mac and cheese so that's something I could probably cook in my sleep." That could have explained the low hanging hook that she had. She could have her niece or nephew over a lot.

"Wow. This is so much better than the box stuff," Trey announced with enthusiasm, causing both adults to laugh.

"I'm happy to hear such high praise." BJ could see that his son was actually content and comfortable, something that meant more to him than he could put into words. Shea was waiting to see what his reaction was, so he didn't keep her waiting. The food was as good as it smelled, without being too heavy. He swallowed down what he had, remembering his manners.

"It's really good." He could see her visibly relax as he said he liked the food. She had been worried. Maybe he wasn't the only one with nerves over the whole thing. That thought was calming alone and he settled into the dinner.

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

The dinner was casual, Shea keeping Trey involved so he would get too bored. The boy was happy to go on about his day at school, having another captive audience besides his father and grandmother. BJ couldn't help but marvel at the back and forth, the interactions just cementing his choice to ask her for dinner. There wasn't a lot of usual first date talk, there really couldn't be given that they weren't by themselves. But BJ wasn't complaining given the thoughtfulness of the invitation to include his son.

"Least I can do is help you clean up," BJ offered at the end of the dinner. He wouldn't feel right leaving her with everything after she had shifted her schedule and cooked for them. Shea consented and BJ moved to get Trey set up to work on some homework while he helped clean the dinner.

The back and forth movements were easy, dishes passed between them as she offered direction on where they went once they were cleaned.

"Thank you. For this I mean." BJ wasn't exactly sure how to approach it but knew that he needed to make it know how much he appreciated the night. "You didn't have to cook for the both of us. It woulda been easier if you just took a rain-check."

"It's no big deal, really," she assured him. "I just didn't want to seem too forward. I know it could have made you uncomfortable."

"I don't think a lot of people would have made the offer. Or included Trey if they did."

"He's a great kid." BJ smiled and let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah, yeah he is." Shea paused and glanced over to him.

"I know it's only a first dinner. But I understand that if anything goes anywhere between us, he has to be included." Her voice was soft as she spoke, unsure if he wanted Trey to know any of that yet. Or even if he was going to want another dinner. BJ paused beside her, once again caught off guard by the way that she was reading everything and offering up more than what others would have. Where had this woman been years ago? "I said my sister has a kid. She's a single mom. Enough guys have come and gone, deciding nothing was worth it because of her son. They get scared off. I have seen what that does to her and to him. That's not something I wanna put anyone else through."

"That's really thoughtful of you," he started. "You're right. Others just don't think about things like that when it comes to the kids. I haven't dated a lot, if I'm being honest with you. He's been my main priority since his mother left." He fell quiet for a moment but Shea didn't push him for anything.

"And he still is. That isn't going to change."

"Wouldn't ever expect it to."

"But, I'd like to think we can add to it. I'm thankful he is as comfortable as he is with people but he definitely likes you. And I'd like to get to know you better. So, maybe we can do this again?" He was hopeful. The evening had gone incredibly well. He was more than happy about it all and definitely wanted to see where this could go. She was right. It was only a first dinner but it was better than any of the first dinners or dates that he had ever had. Most importantly, Trey liked her.

"I'd love that." He felt some instantly relief, the nerves once again having built up as soon as he asked for a second date.

"Next time I'll cook," he offered. "May not be quite as good as this but I have a few things under my belt." He would have to see if it could be just them. They could spend some time talking, really getting to know one another.

"Sounds like a plan to me." They finished up and BJ got Trey all packed up. It was getting late anyway and he needed to get his son home to go to sleep.

"Get home safe," Shea murmured. BJ couldn't help himself. He leaned in and kissed her cheek as he ushered Trey out the door, hiding the action from his son for the time being.

"Thank you again, Shea. Good night."

"Good night Shea!"

"Good night BJ. Good night Trey."

[iicytodoroki]

Kitsune! Miya Osamu x Inari Shrine Maiden! Reader (1/10)

A/N: hope you guys enjoy, it’s been awhile; also if any of you want me to continue/would like to see more of a fic i did hmu bc imma just end up doing it at a relatively slow pace, bc the goshiki smau and kageyama fic are gonna be focused on first. 

masterlist 

White puffs of air came out of your mouth as you hear the soft crunch of foliage beneath your feet. The incline of steps up to your family shrine has been more rigorous than you thought. The cold was biting at the tips of your fingers as you carried the tray of food your Obaa-san told you to make, which was specifically favored by the yokai. 

“Yn my dear, I need you to cook for the shrine’s god until I get better,” Obaa-san weakly asked you.

Before you could respond, one of the monks from the entrance tried to interject, “But Ishida-san, why won’t you let one of us the monks do it? We have tended to the shrine--”

“No, an Ishida has always been the one cooking and providing the offerings to the god since the beginning,” your grandmother said sternly.

The monk’s demeanor became more quiet and reluctantly accepting the fact that a young, inexperienced lady will be doing such an important task; especially with the shrine’s festival approaching. 

“Yn, you already know what you must do, and do so very respectfully, the god is also responsible for our region’s prosperity.”

Now here you were, three hours later from cooking the special rice, fried tofu with rice, and sake. The long-traditional clothing you had to wear did not help with each step you took. The beautiful silk and layers did help with the movement and warmth, but it was nothing compared to your comfortable clothing. 

The sun was gradually setting and the lanterns littering the pathway up to the shrine became more prominent. When you turn the corner, you see the shrine up ahead. As you take a pause, you hear the swift air from the edge of the trees. It was like déjå vu. 

You were walking next to your grandmother in your traditional attire, trying to keep up going up those enormous steps. 

“Come now yn, your Oji-san will be performing the ceremony soon,” Obaa-san said. 

When you both reach the leveled ground of the shrine atop the expansive hill, your eyes widen at the beautiful decorations for the ceremonial event later that night. 

A quick rustling was heard from your right, but your [e/c] orbs were not able to catch the sharp grey eyes in the distance.

As night befell, the soft glow of the red lanterns reflected on the orange and yellow leaves from the trees above. Your Obaa-san and Oji-san were busy attending to the monks, guests, and running the festival. Since the town knew you and there were monks all around, surely you would be safe to run off for some deserts?

“Here are some coins to buy yourself takoyaki or candy-apples,” grandmother said as she gave you a red fish pouch, “But! You must stay near the monks’ vision and near the shrine’s vicinity.”

You eagerly nodded your head in a cute way, causing the elder to softly chuckle at your excitement of sweets. 

“Okay Tsubaki, you don’t have too many sweets,” Oji-san said, “and make sure your ‘tsubaki’ doesn’t fall off your little head.” As the said man re-clipped the camellia flower and patted your head.

You smiled at your nickname and quickly turned to run towards the stands and games. The tapping of your sandals being a huge giveaway to the elders at how happy you were finally out of their sight. 

You stood at the beginning of the torii gates towards leading to the actual building of the shrine. At each step you take, you became a little more...uneasy. You didn’t want to risk whipping your head side-to-side at the possibility the god deems it disrespectful. So, your only way was to rely on your peripheral vision and minuscule glances. However, there was nothing you could see until everything was being swallowed by the dark shadows along the trees. There was only the gust of a warm breeze keeping you company. Wait, a warm breeze? In autumn?

Stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t notice you were already halfway into the courtyard of the shrine. When reaching the entrance, you set down the offerings and began your prayer. While kneeling and reciting the prayers with your eyes closed, a beautiful man with three red lines on each cheek, in a white hakama with red camellias decorating it. Nine-tails were following behind the tall, built man and his eyes were targeting your back. 

Once you finished your prayers to the go, you scooted back (still facing forward) to reach the edge of the entrance, instead you collided with a pair of legs. You looked up to see grey eyes staring at you accompanied with a soft smirk on the handsome man’s face. Immediately you shot up on your feet and asked, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I should ask you that, what are you doing here in my shrine,” he cooly replied.

That’s when you saw his grey nine-tails swirling behind him in aggravation and his whole aura emitting supernatural power. You were about to deeply apologize, but your body was frozen in place. Huh? 

The man -- or god -- sniffed the air and walked passed you towards the offerings you had made. He grabbed one of the inari-zushi and took a pleased bite, but then quickly laid his eyes on you. 

“You made this,” he said more as a statement than a question; he was gesturing towards the tofu in his hand and the tray nearby. You felt something lift and was able to slowly nod your head. He hummed in acknowledgement to put the food back and stride over to you.

“What happened to that old woman? The food smells different from how it’s usually done.”

 It seems you were granted permission to speak so you said, “She is ill right now, so I have replicated and will be performing the offerings until she is better.”

He continued to stare at you, making you uncomfortable, but you couldn’t help it to stare somewhere that's not those beautiful smokey grey eyes. Then his face was suddenly at the crook of your next, sniffing you. Frozen and wide-eyes at what he could do to you, you became stiff as a board.

“You smell,” he sniffs again, “familiar.” He was then face-to-face with you. You blush at the close proximity of the man.

“I-I am the granddaughter of the Ishida family who takes care of this shrine.” You finally had the courage to look up at him and that’s when you took notice of his ears, his right ear kept folding and unfolding in what seems to be curiosity.

Candy-apple in hand, you walked around the grounds greeting visitors and monks. Bored that there weren’t many children now at this time of night, you decided to turn back to find one of your grandparents. That’s when you noticed a boy who looked to be around you age of five. He seemed startled to have made eye contact with you and went into the dark woods. 

“Hey wait! It’s really dark now!” you exclaimed trying to get him back. You ended up following him until you saw him half hiding behind a tree. 

He seems kind of scared, you thought. 

“Do, do you wanna try my candy apple?”

Without saying a word, he continued to stare between you and the treat. He slowly emerged from behind the said tree. In the moonlight you can see the eight-tails behind him, short and fluffy. On top of his head were pointed ears, one kept slowly folding and unfolding as he got closer. 

When he is finally within arms reach, you stretch out your hand to give him the candy-apple. 

“Here, try it, it's really sweet!” while giving him an innocent smile. He slowly took the treat from your hand and took a bite. A growing blush and grin at the corner of his face appeared. Pleased with yourself, you smiled back.

“Um, my name is Ishida Yn,” you continued, “What’s yours? Or what are--”

“YNNNN! YNNN!”

“Oh! They’re looking for me,” you realized how much trouble you were going to be when they find you coming out of the woods. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” you bowed in apology knowing he is not an average human.

Running off to the lights in the distance, you didn’t turn back to see the boy smile at your carefree nature.

Remembering the flashback from your childhood, you stared back at the knowing grey eyes.

“Yn…”

[songxiaolin]

untamed fall fest

day 26: radish remains

summary: song lan and xiao xingchen are tasked with appeasing a ghost that’s haunting a vegetable garden. slight companion piece to this

rating: teen for slight horror elements  word count: 2832

“No, no, out! We don’t want anymore of your nonsense.”

The raised voices carried throughout the small building, over the sound of the other guests who were going about drinking their wine or tea, over the rain that still poured down. At the table in the corner, Xiao Xingchen paused with his hand on the cup, a frown on his face as he looked towards the sound of the commotion.

An old woman wearing rough clothing in shades of muted browns was standing at the entrance, the owner attempting to shoo her away.

“Please, someone must be able to help,” she said, voice watery.

Xiao Xingchen was already on his feet, Song Lan following him only a fraction of a second later.

“As if someone wants to waste their time with your stories. Get out!”

The man reached out a hand to push the woman out of the open door way. Instead, his hand met the wooden handle of Song Lan’s fuchen, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make a point. Startled, the man pulled back.

“D-daozhang! I was only escorting her out! I would never hurt an old woman,” he stuttered.

Song Lan’s face was cold, unmoved, and his eyes flicked to Xiao Xingchen, already putting an arm around the woman’s shoulders to steady her. He looked back to the man.

“We will handle this. You may go attend to your other duties,” said Song Lan.

“Of course, of course.” The man bowed hurriedly, relief on his face as he disappeared back into the tea house.

As soon as he was gone, the old woman let out a shuddering sigh as she clung to Xiao Xingchen’s arm.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much, Daozhang.”

“There’s no need for thanks,” Xiao Xingchen said, his smile soft as he led her out of the way, under the roof to keep out of the rain. “Please, you said you needed help. Tell us what’s wrong.”

Resting his fuchen on his arm, Song Lan leaned against the wall near them, occasionally glancing back into the tea house warily but no one else made a move to approach the trio.

“It’s horrible… Every night, a wailing that wakes my husband and I. All sorts of banging and tearing from outside. And when we go out in the morning, everything is destroyed! No matter how we try to appease the ghost, it comes back,” the woman said through her distressed tears.

“A ghost?” Xiao Xingchen looked towards Song Lan, mouth twitching in concern. “Have you seen this ghost, furen?”

She shook her head, grey hair coming loose slightly.

“No! But I’m certain. The wails—They sound like the voice of our neighbor who died!”

“I see.”

Song Lan shifted where he stood.

“When did your neighbor die?” he asked.

“Oh… It was… It was about a month ago,” she said.

Taking the thread that Song Lan had begun, Xiao Xingchen perked up and added his own question.

“And when did this ghost first appear?”

The woman’s face became thoughtful, one boney finger tapping at her chin.

“I suppose—Yes, it was around then!”

Xiao Xingchen took a step back and raised his arms in a slightly lopsided bow, smile still on his face.

“We can help, furen,” he said. “Show us to where your home is and we will take care of this.”

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

Though the woman’s farm was not far, the rain made the walk slower as Xiao Xingchen held the wax paper umbrella over the old woman and Song Lan carefully avoided puddles. By the time they had reached her home, it was late afternoon and the rain was finally beginning to let up but not before it had soaked through their outer robes.

As soon as the small house surrounded by a bamboo fence came into view, Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan tensed, ready for whatever they might find. The first thing they noticed was the smell; at first merely the scent of dirt and rain mixed together but then it was over powered by something rotten and sour.

Xiao Xingchen immediately covered his nose and mouth with his wide sleeve, fighting the urge to gag and fumbling to put away the umbrella.

“What in the world is that smell?” he asked, choking slightly on the words.

“I don’t know,” said Song Lan. His nose was wrinkled in disgust though he kept his hands down, one clutching the handle of Fuxue, knuckles white.

“It’s the garden,” the woman said, opening the gate and then gesturing with her hand. The small garden was in shambles, dug up in places as if something had taken large swipes at the earth. Vegetables of abnormal size were strewn about, discolored and decaying. “No matter how we try to fix it, this is what happens.”

“Do you see that, Xingchen?”

Pointing with sword, Song Lan took a step forward. To most people, they’d only notice the destruction and strange vegetables, but both cultivators could see the sickly, greenish-black energy radiating from the plants. They exchanged a glance; the old woman’s stories were not nonsense after all.

“Furen, your neighbor, was there bad blood between you and them?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

The woman bowed her head, hands shaking a bit.

“There was a quarrel…”

“Here.” Xiao Xingchen took her by the arm and led her over to the stool that was set outside the door of the home, directing her to sit. “Tell us what you can remember, it could help us to appease this ghost.”

She took a deep breath.

“It was just a trinket. A carved turtle. Lao-Huang swore he lost it when he helped till the field but we searched everywhere and found nothing! He was inconsolable, pestering us every day, until he fell ill a couple months ago,” she said, mouth trembling.

Bending down slightly, Xiao Xingchen patted her back comfortingly, the smile on his face now thoughtful and a little sad.

“Perhaps we can look again,” said Song Lan. “If we find it, we could put his soul to rest.”

“Yes. We should look.” Xiao Xingchen turned back to the woman as he straightened. “You should go inside, just in case we can’t appease it and stir up the anger instead.”

Walking back towards the garden, they waited until the woman had gone inside, the door rattling behind her.

“Do you think the trinket is still here, Zichen?”

Song Lan glanced over the garden. The smoke-like energy seemed to grow as if it sensed their presence, understood what they were talking about. Wind blew light rain on their faces, bringing with it that rotted smell.

“I believe so. Perhaps the ghost can sense its presence and that’s why it refuses to leave.”

“I agree.” There was a pause as Xiao Xingchen looked at the oversized vegetables, some broken open and oozing. He gave a slight shudder. “I suppose we’ll have to begin looking.”

“Mm. Yes.”

Song Lan didn’t move. His face was extremely pale, beads of water that could have been rain but were more likely sweat dotting his forehead. Xiao Xingchen touched his arm, rubbing his thumb across the black fabric.

“I’ll go look. You can keep watch. I know how much you hate the dirt and muck,” he said.

Blinking a little, Song Lan looked at him, a hint of a smile on his face before he shook his head.

“No, I can handle this. Otherwise it would take awhile to search.”

Xiao Xingchen nudged him gently.

“We’ll both smell.”

“Yes, Xingchen,” he said with a slight resigned sigh. “Lets get to work.”

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

Mud squelched under their boots and clung to the hem of their robes as soon as they stepped into the tilled ground of the garden. Both the smell and energy surged almost immediately. The blemished leaves of the radish plants began to curl and shake menacingly. A root near Xiao Xingchen twisted out of the ground, pulsing with the same greenish-black energy. It snaked towards him.

He drew Shuanghua. The sword flashed out and a soft white light followed, bringing with it a breeze that smelled of crisp night air. It cut through the root easily.

“We’ll have to look quickly,” he said.

Song Lan gave a short nod then continued to dig through the torn vegetable garden. More roots began to push from the dirt, extending towards them, and the vegetables themselves been to pulsate, some cracking open.

“I still haven’t found anything,” said Song Lan, grimacing, trying to push away the thought that dirt had worked its way under his nails.

“Neither have—Zichen, behind you.”

Xiao Xingchen’s voice carried a tension that Song Lan recognized and immediately moved to the side, spinning around. Behind him loamed a specter of an old man, mishappen and green. His mouth was open wider than it should’ve been and both tendrils of roots and a piercing wail poured out of it. The ghost reached for Song Lan once again as he pulled Fuxue from its sheath.

The glare from Fuxue was not as bright as that of Shuanghua but sharper somehow. It passed through the ghost and frost began to creep across the transparent form as the air around it became cold. Another shriek came as the ghost’s movements slowed.

“I’ll keep it occupied, Xingchen,” he said, sword held ready to defend against the next attack. “Hurry.”

Concern crossed Xiao Xingchen’s face, hesitating for just a moment, before renewing his search. Roots tried to wrap around his arms and legs and he cut them way. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Song Lan remove a talisman from his sleeve, an attempt to seal the spirit. Xiao Xingchen went to push a vegetable out of the way but his hand sunk into the rotten flesh and the smell caused him to gag into his sleeve. Inside was dirt and rocks coated in slime.

An idea came to him.

“It’s inside one of these strange radishes,” he called, a note of excitement in his voice.

Song Lan looked towards him, brows pulled together in confusion even as he carefully side-stepped the ghost’s next attack.

“It’s…? Okay,” he said, not sure what else to say in response to Xiao Xingchen’s declaration.

Xiao Xingchen began cutting open each of the radishes, poking the insides with the tip of his sword, one arm held over his nose to try to hold off the worst of the smell. Bits of rotten vegetable clung to his clothing and sword hand, eyes frantically looking for the next radish to search. One that was larger and more decayed than the others, still half-buried in the mud, caught his attention.

Falling to his knees in front of it, he began digging it out. Under his hands it pulsed the way a beating heart would and he shuddered in disgust before plunging the blade into it. The stench made his eyes water and the rotted insides felt warm to the touch.

“Xingchen, have you found it?”

“Ah—Oh, this is awful, Zichen,” came the reply.

The ghost of the old man lunged forward, hands that were entwined with roots almost brushing Song Lan’s chest. He slipped in the mud as he dodged and gritted his teeth as his knee hit the ground and was immediately soaked.

“It’s not pleasant, no.”

Beneath the decayed flesh of the radish, Xiao Xingchen’s fingers hit something hard and small. He grabbed it and bolted to his feet, turning to where Song Lan, still partially kneeling, blocked another blow. Xiao Xingchen thrust the small jade turtle into the spirit’s face.

There was a snarl and then a flicker of recognition. The transparent features of the man softened, the roots of the plants slowly retreating back into the mud. For a moment he lingered. Then the wind picked up and he disappeared into the rain.

“Zichen, here.” Xiao Xingchen sheathed his sword and began pulling Song Lan to his feet. Too late he realized that his hands were still covered in rotted radish. His expression was sheepish as he tried to wipe away the bits of vegetable. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” said Song Lan, placing his hand over Xiao Xingchen’s. His mouth twitched slightly but he kept his hand there and squeezed; when it was Xiao Xingchen, he truly didn’t mind. He looked down. “There’s still some resentful energy lingering.”

While the roots had stilled and the garden was silent, smell dissipating in the rain, there was still smoke like energy rising up from the ground.

“Then what are we missing?” Xiao Xingchen asked, voice soft. In his hand, he turned the turtle pendant over in his hand, cleaning it with his sleeve. On the back were characters clearly carved afterwards: 吴 彦. “Wu Cheng? That’s the name on the back.”

“The woman said her neighbor’s name was Huang.” Song Lan’s face was thoughtful. “A partner?”

“Yes,” said Xiao Xingchen, brightening. “We should ask. Perhaps that’s the missing piece needed to appease Huang-qianbei.”

Nodding, Song Lan turned towards the house and Xiao Xingchen followed after, waiting patiently for her to answer the knock. The door slide open and out of respect, both stepped back; the rancid smell still clung to their clothing.

“I heard that horrible wailing again…” Peering around them, the old woman squinted towards the vegetable garden. “Daozhang, is it gone?”

“I think it might be, furen, don’t worry,” Xiao Xingchen said, instinctively reaching out to set a hand on her shoulder. “At least we’ve lessened the resentful energy but we need to know, your neighbor, did he have a spouse or partner?”

Her wrinkled face pulled into a thoughtful expression.

“Yes!” She lifted a finger. “Yes, but they died awhile ago. Lao-Huang was buried with them, on the land near his home.”

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen shared a look.

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

“This must be the place,” said Xiao Xingchen. The gate to the home stood open and creaking slightly in the wind. He tilted his head, mouth moving slightly as he listened. “I don’t sense any resentful energy.”

“No. It’s only…”

Song Lan trailed off, eyes soft, as he looked over the small house. Next to him, Xiao Xingchen leaned into his side lightly.

“Bittersweet,” he finished for Song Lan.

“Yes, that’s it.”

There was still grime clinging to his hand but Xiao Xingchen slipped his into Song Lan’s, their fingers laced together. Song Lan gave a small sigh, content this time. He rubbed his thumb over Xiao Xingchen’s knuckles before letting Xiao Xingchen pull him along.

“Come, she said they were buried near the maple tree.”

Hand in hand, they walked across the small yard to the back of the home. The star-shaped leaves of the tree were tinged with red even though fall was still a month away. A few feet from the tree, there were two mounds, one fresher than the other, not covered with grass. Like the graves themselves, the plain stone markers were worn down differently.

“Where do you think we should leave it, Zichen?”

Song Lan’s answer was immediate.

“With Huang-qianbei. He was searching for it. It will put his spirit to rest, to have a part of his love with him,” he said, voice low.

Xiao Xingchen tightened his grip for a moment.

“Alright.”

He slipped his hand from Song Lan’s and knelt. Next to him, Song Lan did the same. Carefully, they moved back some of the dirt, deep enough for the pendant to be safe but not deep enough to disturb the body. They sat in silent prayer. After a moment, Xiao Xingchen shifted and opened his eyes. The rain, before a light mist, had finally stopped.

“Zichen, look,” said Xiao Xingchen, pointing at the place where the dirt upon the grave had been disturb.

A small plant had begun to sprout. Song Lan leaned forward, squinting a little. Disbelief crossed his face.

“Is that—”

“A radish,” Xiao Xingchen confirmed, something between delight and disgust in his voice.

“Huang-qianbei certainly has a sense of human.” Standing, Song Lan offered his hand to Xiao Xingchen and helped pull him to his feet. “I believe this means it’s over.”

“Yes, I think so. I’m sure you want to find a place to bathe,” he said as they walked back to the road.

“I do.” Song Lan closed the gate. “You smell as well, Xingchen.”

Lifting his arm to sniff it, Xiao Xingchen made a face.

“Don’t remind me, please, Zichen.”

Song Lan’s shoulders shook in a quiet laugh.

“I’ll try not to,” he said, letting Xiao Xingchen take his arm, walking side by side along the muddy road.

The sun was out now and the earth would dry out soon. Around them, the only sounds were that of birds and insects, appearing when the rain left, the occasional dripping of water off the trees that lined their trail.

Then Xiao Xingchen sighed deeply.

“Truthfully, Zichen, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat a radish again.”