#we put that thing back where it came from or so help me

[dissociativewriter]

Crow Family- Earned Title

Young Luke and Kieran AU, Sylus x nonMC!Reader | fem reader, not proofread | 787 words | Crow Family Masterlist

author’s note: HEAVY cute aggression in this one yall (the twins are so cute i need to adopt them and smother them in hugs and kisses omg), this is very cute and fluffy and sappy

requests open for crow family shenanigans!

Bedtime at the Qin household was never easy, Sylus had warned you.

“I really hate to leave you alone with them for the night,” he explained apologetically. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t an emergency.”

You waved him off. “It’s no problem. I love spending time with them!”

“I know you do. They love spending time with you, too.” Sylus smiled.

It faded, though, as his brow drew together. “Remember, they do have a knack for disappearing, so try to keep an eye on them. Last time I lost them, Luke apparently jumped off the banister,” he sighed, flinching as he recounted the memory as if it hurt him. “And Luke likes the crust off his bread. Kieran says it’s fine, but he really doesn’t like the crust either. Oh, and! Kieran is probably going to ask you for a glass of warm milk before bed. He saw someone in a children’s book do it and… now he thinks it’s what people do.” Sylus shrugged helplessly before continuing with a serious tone. “Do not give it to him. He’ll be very hard to resist, he’ll give you puppy dog eyes and everything, but you have to stay strong! The milk upsets his stomach. If they ask you to—”

“Sylus!” you laughed, putting a hand on his arm. “You worry too much. The twins will be safe with me, I promise.”

His shoulders dropped as all his tension eased. “I know. I trust you, I do, it’s just…” A deep breath. “This is my first time leaving them with someone else. I’m a bit scared, to be honest,” he whispered.

You softened at his quiet admission. “That’s why you’re such a good dad to them,” you murmured. His gaze snapped to yours, a faint pink tinging his cheeks.

You furrowed your brow for a moment before huffing out a laugh. “Luke, Kieran, you can come out now.”

The twins shuffled out from behind the couch, heads down in shame. “How’d you know we were there?” Luke whined.

“I’m fine with the crusts,” Kieran muttered.

“No, you’re not! You hate them, too!” Luke accused.

“They’re fine! I’m not a baby anymore, I can handle the crusts,” he said.

“Are you calling me a baby?” Luke cried.

“I’m not the one that asks Sylus to cut the crusts off every time I want some bread!”

“Shush.” You shook your head. “Say goodbye to Sylus, then we’ll get some dinner.”

“Bye, Sylus!” Luke grinned.

“Be safe! I love you!” Kieran hugged his leg.

“Wait, I love you, too, Sylus!” Luke grabbed ahold of his other leg.

Sylus chuckled, patting both their heads. “I love you both. I’ll be there when you wake up.” Sylus leaned down, pressing a kiss to their foreheads.

The night with the twins passed about as you expected. You had to pull Luke off the banister twice, be the seeker in a game of hide and seek (which you lost), and deny Kieran some warm milk before bed (which was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do).

Now, you were sat on the edge of Luke’s bed, tucking in the blankets as they both sleepily chatted about what they would do tomorrow. “Can’t we watch a movie tonight?” Luke asked.

“No, you both need to get some sleep,” you said firmly.

“I’m not tired!” Kieran grumbled.

You stared at him blankly. “You’re yawning and you can barely keep your eyes open.”

Luke sank back into his pillow in tandem with Kieran. “Can’t we at least wait for Papa to come home?” he asked slowly.

“Papa…?” you repeated.

“I want to see Papa,” Kieran agreed. “Papa… Sylus…”

You couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your lips.

As it was nearing 10:30, Sylus came through the door, crimson eyes immediately finding yours where you were dozing off on the couch.

“How were they?” he asked.

“No casualties.” You shrugged.

Sylus breathed a sigh of relief.

“Something interesting happened…” you began, fighting off your smile as you walked towards him.

He stiffened instantly. “What happened?”

“They called you Papa,” you said softly.

Sylus was quiet for a moment, the words settling over him. “…they did?” he finally asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded. “Right before they fell asleep, they were asking for Papa.”

Sylus’s bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, turning away from you. “I need a moment.”

You put your hand on his trembling shoulder. “You are their father, you know.” You gave a small smile. “You take care of them, protect them, love them. And they love you, too,” you said simply.

Sylus looked back at you, eyes glossy. “They really are my boys,” he murmured. “My little crows.”

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

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[badkarma1998]

Okay, Im about to get a lil long winded and rambley, so I just wanna start by saying:

If this resonates with you in any way, I highly encourage you to read the full paper.

And now dont mind me while I have a moment here:

So, I have personally been debating internally the idea of gender and how I relate to it, and it's been bugging me for a good while that nothing fit. And THIS FITS!!!

And I know I have mutuals and followers who also describe something like this.

I've been joking for years that I'm "woman by convince" or Ive commented on not feeling cis but not feeling strongly enough to transiston in any way. Recently I've adopted referring to myself as nonbinary, because it's a little closer to my experience than being cis, but it's also still not quite right?

And then I read this paper and, guys I havent felt this way since I was a confused and broken feeling teenager who found the word "asexual". Its that feeling of finding language to describe your internal complexity, and finding out that yes other people also feel that way

Also I want to highlight this bit, because I think it hits on why I keep coming back to questioning my gender despite feeling overall apathetic about the whole thing:

Even in saying that I'm nonbinary (or if i adopted the term "agender") its like when someone asks you what your favorite food or favorite color is and you don't have one. So you just say something because for some reason you can't say you dont have one. (An experience I associate strongly with being ace also: aka being asked "who do you have a crush on?" When you dont have a crush on anyone)

Similarly, applying any gendered label (even one that implicates a lack of gender) feels like it reduces the whole of me down to an oversimplification.

Which, granted, is useful for every reason any label is useful. Given the current societal structure we exist in, these labels help us try to roughly understand one another through our limited scope of language. For this reason, I know that logically this revalation likely aligns someone like me through an outside lense as being "agender". But it doesn't make "agender" feel any more like a rounded oversimplification of an internal complexity.

I also want to highlight these quotes from the paper, though honsetly yall should just read it, every quote from every individual interviewed touches on some aspect of what I've been wrestling with about this

But specifically:

For me personally, I think "woman" is probably a term that's not too far off from my particular permutation of gender (such that it is). I like how she/her pronouns sound the best, I usually prefer a femme presentation, and I don't mind being perceived as a woman. At the same time, there are narratives tied into the concept of womanhood that are...repellant, maybe?...to me, … [including] woman as mother, woman as nurturer, and woman as romantic/sexual partner. I don't vibe at all with the word womanhood, either. To put it another way, I think that much of my resonance with women comes from socialization and shared experiences with other people who use that label rather than perhaps any inherent shared feeling. … Of course I support and respect people who feel gender to be a strong thing in their life but personally I feel like it's not real and basically a construction. At the same time, I don't feel like I'm doing much that's disruptive to dominant constructions of gender, so a term like nonbinary or genderqueer feels incorrect. So yes, perhaps detached is a good term. … Let me put it this way: if somebody came up to me and insisted that I was a man, I would disagree with them. If somebody came up to me and just insisted that I wasn’t a woman, I wouldn't care. … Personally, I'm not sure that I intrinsically feel much in the place where gender should be. (Amanda, 24)

Because it sums up exactly how I view my relationship with my gender, specifically as an afab person

And

Some respondents indicated lingering gender attachments—in the midst of broader gender detachment—because they did not see alternative language to convey their relationship with gender. For example, Lydia said:

I consider myself gender queer. I mostly use female pronouns (she/her) since that’s easiest for me, but I don’t feel especially connected with being a woman other than my appearance, which indicates to other people that I am a woman. The problem I have is that there doesn’t seem to be a descriptor for gender that exactly describes how I feel or see myself. Being considered a woman doesn’t cause me distress so I usually just consider myself a queer woman since queer is kind of all encompassing but woman just feels slightly off the mark for me. (Lydia, 31)

However, when I later told Lydia that I had heard similar things from other asexual individuals I had interviewed and asked if she felt detached from gender (thereby offering her alternative language), she enthusiastically said that she did.

Detached from gender at large is a great way to describe it. It's not that I experience any kind of dysphoria like someone in the trans community might feel; I just don't feel especially attached to femininity or masculinity. Mostly, I feel kind of neutral about gender as a whole. … Even calling myself non-binary or agender doesn't feel right, other than in philosophically. I don't really think about myself in terms of gender, and trying to fit a label on myself seems kind of unnecessary. The labels that were more or less assigned to me at birth work well enough and don't really cause me any discomfort so I go with it, but they don't really explain me. The closest thing I can come up with is queer since it explains that I don't fit the norm of gender or sexuality but doesn't say anything specific. Since I don't even know how I would describe my gender other than through a long explanation like this, queer is the best I can come up with. (Lydia, 31)

Because again, it just describes so well my feelings too, especially about why i default to using the gendered language we have and being fine with she/her pronouns, even though something about them still feels wrong.

And as I was reading all of this, I couldn't help but feel like it just clicked. Of course being ace and being "detached for gender" would overlap. Which, I kinda stumbled into explaining why to my friends really well, at least for myself personally:

Honestly, part of why im finding this particular paper so intriguing is because I see my gender quite similarly to how i see my sexuality.

I do not understand sexual desire or attraction the way that I have been told is inherit. Sex is a thing, it is an object to me, one that I have picked up and fiddled with, but not one that is attached to me the way it is to my peers. And gender is much the same. Conceptually these objects, these tools of sex and gender and attraction, I am told that every living person is born with them attached and as important to functionality as an organ. Yet here they are laying on a table before me and either I choose to use them the same way I choose to participate in a hobby, or they are picked up by others and stuck to my being in ways that range from neutral to painful

And like, I honestly dont even know what my goal is with sharing all this here. I just feel such a catharsis and sense of being seen, and I want to share that with anyone else who feels the same.

i feel so seen!!

(twitter thread)

[n0rmal-cat]

Kpop demon hunters x reader- selling your soul for job experience Part 6

[a few of the things here are headcanons, also im so tired]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Reader looked at their clipboard and then back at the boys, who had just changed. "Baby, where's your hat?" 

Baby, lounging on the couch with his usual bored expression, glanced up lazily. "Lost it," he mumbled, going back to playing with reader's phone, which they definitely didn't give them.

Reader sighed and turned to Abby. "What did he do with the hat?"

Abby sat upside-down on the armchair, "Huh, what?"

“Alright, both of you are no help. Let's consult the competent one, Jinu,” reader said, putting their hands on their hips.

Jinu was busy smothering and squishing Derpy's face before his gaze turned to look at his bedroom door. "Well..." 

The six of them huddled in the doorway of Jinu's room, looking inside, noticed a bird that had made a nest out of Baby's hat. "When did you get a bird?" 

"I've always had them," Jinu replied nonchalantly. "Their name is Sussie... I just don’t know why they keep stealing hats, it's becoming a problem." He watched the bird, which looked like it was glaring at them

"Yeah... 'stealing' hats," Baby nodded. 

"Did you make them the tiny hat that's on their head or...?" reader pointed. 

"I made it for Derpy, but they keep taking it," Jinu replied. 

Reader stepped back. "Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Has everyone seen the list of games you'll be playing tonight?" reader pulled out the clipboard again and handed each of them a paper with the list of games. 

They all seemed fine with the list until Baby reached the final game. "Drinking hot sauce? No, I'm not doing that!" 

“What? I’m sure it won’t be that bad. It can't be that hot,” reader insisted, tilting their head to the side in confusion.

“I’m not drinking that. End of story. Want me to participate? Get rid of that game,” Baby shot back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Reader looked at the other boys, confused.

"Baby has a bad experience with spice... like, really bad," Abby rubbed the back of his head, glancing knowingly at Baby, who now appeared visibly anxious at the mere mention of anything hot.

"Okay... well, I can try to get it changed, but we go on in like two hours..." reader tightened their grip on the clipboard.

“Look, if anything, reader can change what's inside the bottles, right?” Romance suggested

Reader’s eyes twitched slightly. "I’ll try..."

"Problem solved, now let's get going, we don't want to be late and make a bad impression on the fans, do we?" Jinu says, bringing his hand up to snap. The others did the same.

"Hey, no!" reader grabbed his wrist, his eyes widened in surprise. “You guys don’t just get to snap away without me! I had to walk home, and I’m still tired.”

“But you’re not a demon yet—?” Mystery attempted to explain, but reader shot him a glare that silenced him. Was that a small whine that came out of him?

“Then I guess you’re walking with me,” they replied defiantly, crossing their arms and planting their feet firmly on the ground.

“No need! We have your form of transportation already,” Jinu smirked, pulling his wrist away from reader’s grip.

“I don’t think any of you know what a car is, so now I'm concerned...” the reader muttered under their breath.

Jinu cleared his throat. "Ahem, Derpy!" The large cat approached, rubbing against the reader affectionately. "I love him more than you, but what am I supposed to do with this?"

"Aha, no! But you can ride him." he reached down to pet Derpy's head. "Now, if you will excuse us~" The five of them struck a pose once more before disappearing in the pink smoke.

"Do they always have to pose when they do that?" reader looked down at Derpy, smiling softly as they looked at his eyes.

"Seems like it's just you and me then, huh? So do you mind helping me get to the studio, little on" they skrech under derpys chin. 

With a gentle nudge, Derpy lifted his head beneath their legs, effortlessly hoisting them onto his back like they weighed nothing. “Whoa! Hold on now!” reader yelped, trying to find their balance.

“Derpy, hold on!” reader yelling alerted the bird in Jinu's room, it darted around the room before landing on Derpy's head. “Eh, hello?”

“Caw!” Sussie squawked in their face. “Ah, jeez!” reader screamed, nearly losing their grip.

As Derpy settled down, the three of them began to sink into the ground. “What in the…?” The next moment, they were running through the air over the city below them. “Wow…” reader's breath hitched, gazing down at the buildings in awe.

Sussie flew beside them as Derpy galloped through the sky. “This is definitely a way to travel! Do you know where we’re going, Derpy?”

Derpy gave a happy grunt in response. “Alright then,” they grinned.

Once they arrived above the studio, Derpy tilted down, diving through the clouds and settling smoothly into the back rooms of the studio. reader dismounted hesitantly, wobbling a bit as they did.

“Took you long enough,” Baby stood with his arms crossed to their left.

"Oh, Baby, were you waiting for us?” reader asked, trying to catch their breath.

"Don’t say it like it’s some romantic thing! I’m waiting because, again, I’m not going out there unless you change the hot sauce,” he huffed with a pout.

“Oh, right, just let me get settled first. My body’s still a little dizzy. Where are the others?”

"Why would I care?" he lightly kicked the ground.

reader turned to Derpy, who wore a goofy, endearing smile. He closed his eyes briefly, then began to stroll away, Sussie comfortably on his back, he gave reader a smirk.

Reader stands beside him, leaning on the same wall. They look to the floor, then back at baby. "You seem... more upset than usual..."

Baby’s fingers twitch slightly at his sides before he suddenly snatches your clipboard, flipping through the pages with exaggerated disinterest. “Oh wow, look at that. Still says ‘hot sauce.’ Must be a printing error~”  

His usual bratty tone is there… but the way his shoulders stay tense it definitely spoke more.  

"Does it have something to do with your deal?" 

"..."  Baby’s silence was deafening.

The clipboard snaps in his grip. "Nah. I just really hate spicy food."  

Reader shifted. "If it was a deal, it can't be as bad as mine, right?" They managed a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Baby's fingers tightened around the broken clipboard, his expression darkening. 

"Depends," he whispered venomously. "Did you kill your older brother out of spite?" 

A heavy silence ensued. Then he tosses the ruined clipboard aside like it’s nothing.  

"...Yeah, didn’t think so."

Reader immediately put their focus onto the floor "um...I don't know what to say to that."

"Good. Don't." He shoves off the wall, heading toward the door, only to pause halfway. "...Just get rid of the damn hot sauce."  He had no smirk, no spark; it felt like a different person.

Oh, this is him being scared.

Reader’s chest tightens at the realization Baby, the smug brat, was genuinely terrified. Not of the spice itself... but of whatever memory it was associated with.

"Yeah..." they murmured softly to the empty room, gripping their sleeve tightly. "Hot sauce is definitely getting swapped."

Was it hard to convince the producers to let you tamper with the hot sauce?...not when they don't see you do it?

Reader looked on from behind the film set, the boys were smiling and laughing at each other. The flash of their marks snapped them out of it.

They stepped back hesitantly, the sound of the backstage door creaking open and shutting drawing their attention away from the set.

They raise an eyebrow and sneak away. They saw the faint glow of something? They hid behind some stage equipment, was that hunterix...holy shit did they have actual weapons!?

The three of the girls watch the boys as they giggle, "ok, you got this." reader walks toward the three of them, placing a hand on one of their shoulders.

A sudden shiver raced up the girl’s spine as she spun around with a startled yelp, mirroring the reactions of the other two. "Agh! Wait, you're not-" they instinctively put their weapons behind their backs. “Hahaha… what are you doing here?”

Come on reader, put that customer service person on!  “I was just about to ask you three the same. It’s an honour to have you here, but I wasn't informed of any special appearances,” reader replied, a bright smile lighting up their face.

Rumi cleared her throat, stepping forward with. “Well, you know… we just wanted to drop by to say hi to the Saja boys and congratulate them on their debut,” she explained hesitantly.

"And you are..." Zoey asked.

“Me? I’m the Saja boys’ manager! I was so thrilled to see you three show up for their first performance, it meant a lot to the boys,” reader replied cheerfully.

The three girls exchanged worried glances. Rumi finally broke the silence. “That’s, um... great!” Zoey and Mira study reader's appearance.

"So, if you don't mind me asking? What's with the weapons?" reader smirked.

The girl's eyes widened, and they started to freak out. "Well, you see-" "Here the thing-" “It’s for our new song promotion!” Mira blurted out over the other two.

“Ah, of course! I'm glad to have you here, regardless. I hope you enjoy the show," reader said, about to walk away when Zoey suddenly grasped their hand.

"Wait, please," her eyes sparkled.

"Yes?" reader replied

“We’d like to invite you to eat with us sometime. Can you do breakfast tomorrow?” Zoey asked

Reader smiled. “Got a pen?” she fumbled with their outfit, retrieving a pen with a quirky turtle clicker and rolling up Zoey’s sleeve to write down their number.

Zoey blushed fiercely as she allowed them to scribble on her arm. “Call me,” reader winked before turning to leave.

"Whoa..." Zoey looks down at the number; the other two months were left wide open.

Reader covers their mouth in embarrassment "why did I do that, why did I do that, why-" they spriled.

"Play games with us!" they heard Jinu scream, followed by a very squeaky sound.

A few moments later, the boys bolted out the door, the girls in hot pursuit behind them. "Oh, come on! Again!?" they exclaimed. Just then, they felt the familiar fluffy feeling of their blue friend.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're here, but do they really have to run out every time?"  they said, gently petting Derpy's head. Just then, Sussie landed on top of their head with a squawk.

"ok, ok, I get it!" They shooed them off, climbing onto Derpy's back, just like before. Derpy began to sink into the ground.

Leaning against Derpy's soft fur, they sighed, "I don’t want to work another day in my life," mumbling into his warmth.

The boys weren't there when they came back, they didn't come back for a long time, but reader knew they were probably fine, didn't make them worry any less though.

"Where are you two going?" reader asks as they sit on the couch with their feet up, derpy gave them a smile before disappearing with Sussie.

"Welp," they scrolled through their phone. The ding of the elevator brought their attention back up. 

"Hey, where have you guys- whoa... what's ah" all the boys but Jinu stood in front of them, but they looked nothing like their human or previous demon form, they were much more monstrous.

Abby flopped down beside them with an exaggerated groan, while Mystery knelt down beside their feet. Romance reclined in the armchair, and Baby made a beeline for the fridge.

“Are you guys okay?” they asked, running a hand through Mystery's dishevelled hair. “Oh, and you don’t have a face, does anyone want to explain that?”

"Tired......" romance muttered, rolling his head back.

“We told you it took a lot of energy to maintain those forms. Now here we are,”  baby started to chug a water bottle.

"And Jinu?" reader asked, picking mystery up to lay him beside Abby.

"Why are you always asking me the question like I know where everyone is? Let me drink my water in peace."

"Let's get you guys to bed, then" they said, concerned. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Abby, can you walk?”

“Ughhh…” was all Abby could muster in response. 

“Well, this is going to be a long night,” they sighed.

to that one person that asked to be tagged

@tumblblob

[angelsuecult]

crystal clear | s. crosby

“please tell me not to go

we’ve been here long before”

warnings: some language

summary: A wedding, a best man, a maid of honor, a pair of childhood best friends and memories of love and what-could’ve-been.

request: Could we get a brother’s best friend Sid x reader?

word count: 12.3k

song: sienna - the marias

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this one as I really enjoyed writing it! made me a tad sad but I love it nonetheless! original asker I’m sorry it took so long pls don’t hesitate to reach out if you hate it, if you love it, if you want more! anything! I’d love to hear your feedback back! enjoy it guys.

—

It had rained the night before. That kind of east coast rain that soaked the earth through and made the air heavy and still the next morning, like the world hadn’t yet decided whether it was going to sweat or sigh. The backyard was quiet at first, just the rustle of wet leaves and the soft clink of your mom’s coffee spoon against her chipped porcelain mug. Then the frenzy started—not all at once, but in slow-building waves. A misplaced floral centerpiece here, a tablecloth creased the wrong way there. Someone couldn’t find the mimosa glasses. Your aunt was already asking if the eggs had been overcooked. The back gate was sticking again.

You sat on the edge of your childhood bed, bare feet brushing the worn carpet, hands resting still in your lap like they were waiting for instructions. The smell of lemon polish and toast drifted up from the kitchen, mixing with the faint scent of your old lotion, the one you always used when you were younger, still tucked into the back of your dresser drawer. You’d put it on last night without thinking. Muscle memory. The small things always came back first.

Your phone buzzed from the nightstand. Just your brother checking in. “U up?” it said, like it wasn’t the first big day of the weekend. Like you hadn’t both been going over every last detail for weeks. Your thumbs hovered over the screen for a second before you replied with a thumbs-up emoji. No words. There never really needed to be between you two. Especially not today.

Outside, you could hear the thrum of voices getting louder. Chairs scraping against the patio bricks. The neighbor’s dog barking once, then going quiet again. It was all familiar—painfully so. A backdrop of a life that used to be yours, that sometimes still felt like it was, in the right light.

You hadn’t lived in Cole Harbour in years. Twenty-two when you left, with two suitcases and a very sure step, telling yourself it was time. There were things you needed to do, things that couldn’t be done here. And maybe a part of you hoped it would help, help you forget that some stories stay unfinished. Help you put space between yourself and the ghost of something that never quite was.

Sidney.

The name alone stirred something in you. Not a sharp pang, not anymore. Just something old and low and settled, like a sigh you’d learned to breathe around.

He was, of course, going to be here. You knew that. You had known it the moment your brother and Janie called you last year to say they were finally getting married. You were the maid of honor. Sid was the best man. No surprises there.

Your brother’s best friend since before they had knees full of hockey bruises and dirt-stained jeans. The kid from down the street who practically lived at your house all summer, who knew the code to your garage door and could always find the hidden snacks in the back of the pantry. The one your parents adored. The one Janie used to elbow you about every time he so much as looked your way for longer than necessary. “Just wait,” she’d whisper with a grin. “You two are it.”

But real life has a funny way of skipping the part where things fall into place just because people think they should. He’d gone, of course. Became Sid the Kid. The golden boy of Cole Harbour, then of Canada, then the world. And you had clapped for him every time. Genuinely. Proudly. Quietly. You had never chased him. Never clung to something half-formed. You loved him in your own way—from a distance, in silence. And eventually, you let him go without ever having to say it.

It wasn’t a dramatic falling out. No heartbreak, no fights, no door slammed shut. Just a slow, quiet fade—the kind that settles into your bones before you even realize it’s happened. You still visited home now and then, still talked to your brother, still sent a text here or there when someone’s parent got sick or when there was news worth sharing. But you and Sidney? Somehow, you always missed each other. Maybe it was bad luck. Maybe not.

And now, after all this time, you’d be spending the next forty-eight hours in his orbit again. Rehearsal, toasts, dances, photos, brunch. All the little moments stitched into a wedding weekend that would pull the two of you closer than you’d been in years. Best man and maid of honor—the old punchline everyone used to toss around like a prophecy.

Only now, you weren’t that same girl who used to watch his games from the floor of your parents’ living room, chin in your hands. And he wasn’t the boy who used to steal your hoodies and leave them in the backseat of your brother’s car. You had a life. A job you liked. A city you didn’t hate. And a partner—new, but good. Steady. Kind. The kind of man your brother liked. Which mattered more than you cared to admit.

But he wasn’t Sidney.

And even if you would never say it out loud—even if you’d never betray what you’d built, what you’d chosen—you knew, deep down, that there was a part of you still shaped like him. Quietly. Permanently.

The smell of bacon had been the thing to drag you fully out of bed—that, and the sharp sound of your mom’s voice calling your name from the bottom of the stairs like you still had soccer practice in an hour and were about to miss the carpool. You’d groaned into your pillow, shoved your face against the cool side, and tried to pretend you weren’t a grown woman back in your childhood bedroom with the faint shadow of your old posters still ghosting the wall.

It was too early to be annoyed, but too late to go back to sleep. You pulled your hair into a clip, grabbed the sweatshirt you’d left on the back of your desk chair, and padded barefoot down the stairs.

“Jesus, Mom,” you muttered as you reached the kitchen, voice scratchy with sleep. “You trying to raise the dead?”

Your mom turned from the stove, spatula in hand, a smear of flour across her apron. “You think I can get over thirty people fed on schedule without a little yelling? You’re lucky I didn’t start banging pots.”

You looked past her at the chaos: platters of fresh fruit and mini muffins on the counter, eggs in two separate pans—one scrambled, one some kind of frittata—a tray of tiny croissant sandwiches next to a bowl of lemon water with mint floating on top like she was hosting a fucking bridal magazine shoot.

“I thought this was supposed to be casual,” you said, pulling a mug from the cabinet and pouring yourself coffee.

“It is casual,” she said, throwing you a look. “Casual doesn’t mean half-assed. You think Janie’s mother is gonna show up with Costco muffins? Please.”

“God forbid.”

She pointed the spatula at you. “Don’t you start.”

You grinned behind your coffee mug, then leaned on the counter, watching her fuss with the bacon. The back door was already open, letting in the morning breeze and the faint sound of your dad dragging folding tables across the patio bricks. The backyard looked honestly, beautiful. String lights criss-crossed from the garage to the fence. White linen tablecloths, mismatched chairs that somehow worked. A wooden bar station was set up under the tree with glass pitchers of juice and sangria sweating in the sun.

“Where’s Dad?” you asked.

“Yelling at your uncle for putting the ice bucket on the wrong table.”

“Classic.”

“And your brother’s out there too,” she added, glancing toward the yard. “He said he wanted to make sure the speaker situation didn’t ‘embarrass him.’”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “That sounds about right.”

Your mom wiped her hands on a towel and looked at you—really looked at you—with a little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What?” you asked suspiciously.

“Just wondering if that sweet man of yours is going to make it this weekend.”

There it was. The gentle poke. The nudge in the ribs.

“He’s in Chicago,” you said, sipping your coffee. “Busy all weekend. But he’s trying to fly in tomorrow afternoon for the reception.”

“Trying to?”

You gave her a look. “Mom.”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. Big weekend. Would be nice to see him, that’s all.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but your brother chose that exact moment to come in through the back door, hair sticking up, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. “Hey,” he said. “You up?”

“Clearly.”

He glanced at the kitchen clock. “You ready for the circus?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Good. Me neither.”

You smiled, bumping your shoulder against his as you both walked out to see the yard was slowly filling up with uncles carrying folding chairs, kids already kicking a soccer ball around, Janie’s cousins adjusting the spacing of the tables.

“Think your guy’s still making it to the reception?” your brother asked casually.

You gave him a small nod. “He’s gonna try. Said he might catch a red-eye.”

“He’s solid,” your brother said, and it wasn’t just to be nice. He meant it. He liked your boyfriend. You could tell.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “He is.”

You didn’t say, but he’s not the one who makes me forget my own name when he walks into a room. You didn’t say, he’s not the one I’ve loved since I was fifteen and didn’t know what the hell to do with it.

You didn’t have time to think about it much longer. Because that was the moment you heard your dad call out, “Hey! Look who finally decided to show his face!”

And when you turned, the air shifted in your lungs like it had weight again.

There he was.

Sidney.

Baseball cap low over his brow, white t-shirt soft and worn like it had survived a dozen summers, sleeves tight around his arms in that way you hated yourself for noticing. Jeans slung low on his hips. Clean-shaven. Tan from time spent outside. He smiled as he stepped into the backyard—easy, unbothered, like no time had passed at all. Like he hadn’t just reappeared in the middle of your family’s life after years of silence and space and nothing.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. Your pulse did that stupid thing it always did when you looked at him too long—stumbled once, twice, then leveled out like it had learned to lie.

He found your eyes almost instantly, like he’d been looking for them the whole time.

And you swear—swear—something in your chest cracked open just a little as he made his way towards you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and familiar and maddeningly calm.

You blinked. “Hey.”

That was it. That was all. Two fucking words. And still it felt like something sacred, something buried beneath years of goodbyes that were never said.

Your brother pulled him in for a hug, slapped his back hard enough to make him laugh.

“Bout time you got here, asshole,” he said.

Sidney shrugged with a lazy grin. “Flight got in late.”

“You drive from the airport?”

“Would’ve, but your dad insisted on picking me up.”

Your dad, now fussing with the grill, called out, “Damn right I did. Kid’s practically my second son.”

That made everyone laugh—warm, easy, affectionate. And you stood there in the middle of it, still holding your mug, still barefoot, still absolutely drowning in the realization that seeing him again felt like home in a way nothing else had in a very, very long time.

Eventually, Sid turned to you again. “You helping run the whole show?”

You nodded slowly. “You know how my mom gets.”

He chuckled. “Same as ever?”

“Worse, actually.”

His eyes softened as he stepped a little closer. “You look good,” he said, like he wasn’t even thinking about it—like it just slipped out.

You felt your throat go dry. “So do you.”

And just like that, it was like no time had passed at all. Like you’d seen him just a few days ago instead of years. That old rhythm settling back into place before you could stop it. The comfort, the ease—the weight of all the things that were never said curling up like a cat between you.

By the time brunch really got going, the backyard felt like a full-on garden party. People had spread out across the lawn, some under the big tree, some wandering back toward the food tables, others sinking into the cushioned patio chairs with coffee cups and mimosas in hand. Your mom was in her element—circulating with a pitcher of orange juice, pointing out which muffins were gluten-free, reminding people (kindly but loudly) to please, for the love of god, use coasters on the new outdoor furniture.

You had just finished helping your aunt fix the paper napkin situation—“they’re supposed to be fanned, not stacked like a sad little deck of cards,” she’d scolded—when you wandered back toward the long table under the umbrella, still adjusting your outfit as you went. You didn’t even realize what had happened until you were halfway into the seat.

The one beside Sidney.

It wasn’t planned. At least not by you. But when you looked around—your brother already deep in conversation across the table, Janie chatting with someone’s cousin, your parents distracted near the buffet—you noticed how everyone had just left it open. Like there had never been another option. Like it was already written into the seating chart, even though there wasn’t one.

Just like always.

Sidney turned to glance at you as you sat. “Hey,” he said again, low and warm, like it was a continuation of the last one.

“Hey,” you echoed, tucking your foot beneath your leg, pretending the butterflies in your stomach hadn’t just gone full riot.

There was a small, charged silence as you poured yourself a glass of water. The air between you was thick with things unsaid, like the dust of old memories had been kicked up and neither of you knew how to breathe through it yet. You could hear him shift slightly in his chair, the denim of his jeans brushing against the fabric seat.

You caught him watching you once or twice—quick glances. Soft, familiar. Like he was still trying to get his bearings in the reality of you sitting there beside him. And you weren’t any better. The curve of his profile. The way he tilted his head when someone was talking. How his thumb tapped against the side of his glass like it always used to do when he was thinking. It was stupid, how easily the rhythm came back.

But still neither of you said much. Not right away. Not when it felt like the weight of everything was pressing into the small sliver of space between your shoulders.

Then came the stupid magic trick.

“Alright,” Sid said suddenly, loud enough to get your brother’s attention across the table. “You still haven’t figured this one out, have you?”

Your brother looked up, immediately suspicious. “Don’t start with that bullshit again.”

Sid grinned. “Come on, just one more shot. This time you’ll get it.”

You frowned a little, watching him pull a coin from his pocket and lean forward like he was about to reveal the secret to the universe.

You knew exactly what was coming.

Because it wasn’t his trick. Not really.

It was yours.

You’d shown it to him when you were maybe fourteen. The two of you had been stuck in the backseat of your parents’ car on the way to a hockey you, bored out of your skulls while your brother blasted some awful pop-punk CD up front. You’d had that coin in your hand and showed him how to slide it across your knuckles, do the fake thumb switch, all while hiding the real sleight of hand beneath the edge of your sleeve.

It was so simple. So dumb. But it always worked the first time.

And watching him now—years later, after everything—you felt a strange, unshakable warmth bloom somewhere in your ribs.

He hadn’t just remembered it.

He’d kept it.

“Alright, watch close,” he told your brother, brows drawn in fake concentration. “Coin goes in this hand…” He waved his other hand over it, made a few exaggerated flourishes with his fingers. “And—poof. Gone.”

Your brother groaned. “It’s not gone. It’s in your damn sleeve.”

Sid held his hands up, innocent. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. So check.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and tugged at Sid’s sleeves like he was unwrapping a Christmas gift he didn’t trust. Nothing. The quarter wasn’t there. Just fabric and arm.

“…Fuck,” your brother muttered, sitting back with a half-smile. “I hate you.”

Sid laughed. That deep, easy kind of laugh that used to make you feel like the center of something special. And then—without even really turning his head—he nudged you gently with his elbow.

“Still works,” he said softly, just for you.

You didn’t even try to hold back your smile. “Barely.”

“You showed me that trick, what—a million years ago?”

“A million and some,” you said. “Back of my dad’s car. You couldn’t stop dropping the coin between the seats.”

He looked at you then and there was something unspoken in his expression. Not quite nostalgia. Not quite longing. Maybe something in between. A softness.

“I never forgot it,” he murmured.

Your heart twisted in your chest, almost painfully. “Yeah,” you said. “Neither did I.”

The noise of the brunch swelled around you again—someone calling out for more coffee, your mom fussing with the serving trays—but it all felt far away. Fuzzy. Like the edges of the world had blurred and narrowed until it was just the two of you again.

You noticed how his knee brushed yours under the table, not deliberate, not quite accidental. How his hand rested on his thigh, fingers relaxed but close enough that if you moved your own just a few inches…

You didn’t.

Of course you didn’t.

But you thought about it.

He glanced down at the table for a moment, then back up. “You ever still do it?”

“What, the trick?”

He nodded.

You laughed under your breath. “Only when I’m really bored. Or trying to impress a kid. I taught it to my neighbor’s daughter last summer. She lost the coin under my couch and made me move it.”

He smiled again—smaller this time. “I can see that.”

You tilted your head. “You still doing it at parties to impress people?”

“No,” he said, eyes gleaming with something playful and dry. “Just weddings.”

You let out a soft snort, looking down at your plate as your cheeks warmed. God, you hated how easy it still was. How natural. Like you’d slipped right back into the same script, the same rhythm, without even realizing it.

And you don’t mean to spend the whole day with him.

It just… happens.

The brunch bled into early afternoon the way the best days always did—slow and warm, without anyone realizing how much time had passed until the sun had shifted halfway across the yard. Guests lingered longer than planned. Coffee was refilled, leftovers wrapped in foil and stashed in coolers, and your mom refused to let anyone leave without a baked good “for the road,” even if the road was two streets away.

Sidney stayed. Of course he did.

By then, it didn’t even feel like a question. Like gravity had kicked in, and somehow, you just kept finding yourselves orbiting around each other.

When your mom began rallying people to help clean up, he was already at your side collecting used glasses and stacking plates before you could even ask. You were both elbow-deep in soapy water within ten minutes—him washing, you drying, the two of you shoulder to shoulder in the same kitchen you’d grown up in.

“You’re scrubbing that like it owes you money,” you said, nodding toward the dish he’d been focused on for far too long.

“It does,” he deadpanned.

You snorted. “You need better material.”

“I’m out of practice.”

You tossed him a towel. “Still got good hands, though.”

He froze for half a second before cracking a grin. “That a compliment?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late.

He bumped his hip against yours lightly. “I missed this.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

Because you missed it too.

After the last dish was done and the final folding chair was stacked against the garage wall, you retreated into the kitchen to start on the floral arrangements that were definitely behind schedule. Janie’s cousin was supposed to help, but she disappeared sometime around the second round of sangria. You didn’t ask questions.

Sid stuck around, trailing behind you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You know what you're doing?” he asked, eyeing the buckets of blooms on the counter like they might attack him.

“Nope,” you said cheerfully, grabbing the shears and a roll of floral tape. “But I watched a lot of YouTube videos last night, so that basically makes me a professional.”

He laughed, then nodded toward the peonies. “Where do you want me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Asking a lot of big questions today, huh?”

He gave you a look. “I’m serious.”

You handed him a bunch of eucalyptus. “Strip the bottom leaves. Leave a little stem. Don’t cut off a finger.”

You worked side by side for the next hour, him quietly following your instructions, you occasionally pausing to rearrange what he’d done without telling him. He noticed. You both pretended he didn’t.

“I forgot how bossy you are,” he muttered, trying to fit one more dusty miller into a mason jar without snapping the stem.

You didn’t look up. “I forgot how slow you are.”

“I’m deliberate.”

You smirked. “Sure.”

But it was good. Easy. That strange, beautiful kind of right that had always existed between you. Every so often you’d catch his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. And maybe you weren’t doing much better—your gaze lingering on the slope of his neck, the curve of his jaw when he leaned in to grab another flower.

It shouldn’t have felt like this.

But it did.

Later, upstairs in your old bedroom, it only got worse.

Or better.

Or both.

The room hadn’t changed much. Same faded posters on the wall, same bookshelf lined with paperbacks, a few trophies, an old lamp that buzzed if you turned it past the third notch. The bed was made. The dresser still had a sticky drawer. There was something mildly horrifying about steaming a row of grown men’s tuxedos next to your childhood collection of sea glass and friendship bracelets.

You were crouched over your steamer, barefoot and frustrated, trying to get a stubborn crease out of a bridesmaid dress that absolutely did not want to cooperate.

Sid was sitting on your bed, slowly working his way through a stack of jackets.

“You sure I’m not ruining these?” he asked, holding one up and eyeing the seams.

“You’re not,” you muttered, then paused. “But maybe don’t burn a hole in the best man’s.”

He smirked. “He’ll understand.”

You rolled your eyes, standing and stretching your arms over your head. “How are we only halfway through?”

“Because you insisted on doing Janie’s cousin’s dress twice.”

“Because it looked like it was rolled in a suitcase and then sat on.”

He leaned back against your pillows like he belonged there. Like he remembered being there—because, god, he had been there. So many times. Eating snacks on the floor. Playing cards on the bed. Sneaking in after midnight when your brother was already asleep and he just wanted to talk to someone who got it.

You caught his eyes on you again, quiet and unreadable. But not really. Not to you.

“What?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

You didn’t believe him. But you didn’t push.

And for a second, everything felt so loud. Like the past was pushing its way into the room, crawling up the walls, whispering all the things neither of you had ever said.

You looked away. “Don’t go getting all protective now. That’s my brother’s job.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Yeah, but I was doing it first.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that.

You just sat there in the middle of your childhood room, surrounded by half-steamed suits and the soft hum of old memories that hadn’t ever quite let go.

He was watching you again. You could feel it.

“Do you ever think about…” he started, then trailed off.

You swallowed hard. “About what?”

He blinked. “I don’t know. This.”

You turned back to the steamer. “We were kids.”

“I know.”

There was a long pause.

“But sometimes,” he added quietly, “I still feel like that kid when I’m around you.”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

Because the truth was—you did too.

And maybe that was the problem.

You clear your throat. “We were so dumb, weren’t we?”

“Speak for yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “You were so dumb.”

He smiles. “Okay, fine. I was a little dumb.”

“And a coward.”

“Absolutely.”

“And a bad texter.”

“Still am,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you didn’t try either, you know.”

Your gaze finds the floor. “I didn’t want to chase you.”

“I never asked you to.”

“But you didn’t stop me, either.”

Silence again.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t move. Just breathes.

“Do you ever think about it?” you ask quietly.

He exhales. Not a sigh, not quite. Just a long, slow breath like he’s been holding it in for a long time.

“Only all the fucking time.”

Your heart cracks clean down the center.

And then—like it never happened at all—he gets up and reaches for the next suit.

The two of you finish the steaming in silence. It’s not awkward. Just weighted. Like the air between you has gotten thicker, harder to move through.

When you drive the dresses over to Janie’s parents’ house, he goes with you. Carries the bags without being asked. Jokes about stealing one of the suits for “old time’s sake.” You laugh. He grins. You talk in the car on the short way there. About nothing. About everything.

Favorite road trip snacks. That one time he got food poisoning in St. Louis. How you once kissed a boy behind the movie theater who ended up becoming an accountant and now has five kids.

“I knew about that,” he says, glancing at you. “The movie theater.”

You squint. “How the hell would you know that?”

“I heard about it. From your brother, I think. Or Janie. One of them was pissed. Said the guy was a dick.”

You laugh. “He was a dick. I made him walk me home.”

Sidney smiles at the road. “Good.”

When you pulled into the gravel driveway, people were already starting to gather for the quick rehearsal. Folding chairs were stacked along the fence. A few of Janie’s uncles were arguing over whether the rental arch would hold up in the wind. Her little cousins were chasing each other with sticks, and one of your brother’s groomsmen was very obviously trying to flirt with a bridesmaid and failing miserably at it.

“Feels like a graduation rehearsal,” you said under your breath.

Sidney let out a low laugh. “Except there’s way more alcohol involved.”

“And less crying. Hopefully.”

“Debatable,” he murmured, nudging your elbow as you both stepped into the backyard.

You were instantly swept into the buzz of last-minute logistics—who’s standing where, what music will be played, when exactly to start walking, whether Janie’s cousin actually knows how to work the bluetooth speaker.

Sidney was pulled aside by your brother, and you could hear them arguing about whether the groomsmen should have their hands clasped in front or just let them hang by their sides.

“Just don’t look like idiots,” Janie said, cutting in, exasperated but smiling. “That’s the bar.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. “Low expectations. I can work with that.”

You eventually found yourself with the rest of the bridal party, standing in a loose line as Janie’s mom clapped her hands and waved her notes around like she was stage managing a Broadway production.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this rolling. Best man and maid of honor, you're first up.”

Sidney stepped beside you automatically. His arm brushed yours. He glanced over, gave you a look—soft, almost teasing.

“You ready?”

“For a backyard wedding rehearsal?” you asked. “Think I can manage.”

“Still cocky,” he murmured.

“Still annoying.”

You walked together from the sunroom doors down the uneven stone path that had been cleared between the flower beds, timed to the vague sound of a phone speaker playing some version of an instrumental love song that definitely had a few notes out of tune. The “aisle” hadn’t been dressed yet—no petals, no chairs in formation—but you could picture it. You could picture the way Janie would light up walking down it. How your brother would probably forget to breathe. You’d both waited so long for this day.

At the end of the walk, you and Sidney paused. The rest of the party clapped like it was a job well done, and you both dipped in mock theatrical bows.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Really laughed. And he was laughing too, eyes crinkled, like the two of you had just pulled off something far more impressive than walking ten yards.

You walked through it two more times. Each time it felt easier. Surer. Each time you caught yourself smiling a little longer when he looked at you. Each time his hand brushed your back to gently guide you forward and your skin felt like it had been waiting years for that exact contact.

After the final run-through, Janie’s dad clapped his hands and declared it “good enough for government work,” and everyone broke into scattered, easy conversation. There were plans to head to the bar down the street—nothing fancy, just pitchers of beer and greasy food and the kind of laughter that only really happened in groups like this. The kind of laughter you only got in rooms where everyone had known you before you were anything but yourself.

You stood off to the side, watching everyone gather their things, shoes clicking against the flagstone. Sidney appeared at your side again, just like he always did.

“You coming?” he asked, his voice soft, hopeful.

You gave him a small smile. “Can’t. I’ve still gotta ice the cake.”

He blinked. “Wait, you’re doing the cake?”

“Janie wanted something homemade. I said I’d do it.” You shrugged. “It’s that kind of wedding, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I know.”

You clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels a little. “Plus, I still need to make sure the lights are strung up right in my parents’ yard. And the tablecloths are all wrinkled to shit. And the playlist needs tweaking. It’s fine. It’s good. I’ve got it.”

His brow furrowed. “You’re doing all of that tonight?”

“Someone’s gotta.”

There was a pause.

“You sure you don’t want help?”

You looked up at him, surprised.

“I mean—” he scratched the back of his neck “—I don’t mind. We could split a beer. Hang the lights. You can boss me around some more. Just like old times.”

Your heart twisted.

You wanted to say yes.

God, you wanted to say yes.

But that ache—low and slow and constant—reminded you this was still a life he dipped into like a summer storm, not something he stayed for.

“I’ll be alright,” you said quietly.

Sidney nodded. Not disappointed exactly, but… something close. Something quieter. Something heavier.

“Okay,” he said. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Bright and early.”

He took a step back, then stopped. “You really sure? You’re doing a hell of a lot.”

You shrugged again, trying to play it off. “Comes with the title, right?”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t push.

Just looked at you for a long moment. Like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite find the words. Like if he stayed a second longer, it might break him a little.

And then, with one last nod, he turned and followed the rest of them down the driveway, his shoulders broad, his pace slow, like maybe—maybe—he was hoping you’d call him back.

You didn’t.

You stood there under the soft wash of string lights that hadn’t been plugged in yet, watching him walk away, heart tugging painfully against your ribs.

And even though you’d spent the whole day with him, even though you’d laughed and touched and felt something that hadn’t existed in years—you still missed him the second he was gone.

When you got back to your parents’ house it was empty, the kind of quiet that only ever existed after a full day of voices. The screen door clicked shut behind you, and the silence swallowed the last of the sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window. Shoes kicked off. Hair out of the way. Your dress swapped out for bike shorts and an old university t-shirt that had definitely seen better days. You exhaled as you glanced around the kitchen.

Time to get to work.

You start with the fairy lights.

The tent’s already half-assembled in the backyard, a long, pale canvas skeleton stretched out across uneven grass and clumps of flowers that your mom swears weren’t planted last week, but definitely were. The fairy lights are looped haphazardly through the rafters, the extension cords bundled like nests of panic in every corner.

You plug them in one at a time. Each strand flickers to life with a tiny sigh of electricity.

Warm. Golden. Gentle.

It helps. Somehow.

What doesn’t help is the damn tent.

You wrestle with it for thirty minutes. At one point you curse so loudly you’re sure someone five blocks over heard. The center pole keeps sliding. One side collapses entirely. You should call your dad. You should call anyone.

But you don’t.

You’re stubborn, and this tent is not going to win. Not tonight.

So you grit your teeth and keep at it, knees in the dirt, arms aching. When you finally get it standing properly, you drop to your ass in the grass, sweat clinging to the back of your neck, and just breathe.

One problem down.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Who needs CrossFit.”

You made your way to the side yard and started hauling the extra chairs and tables out of storage. Dusty, cobwebbed, probably a decade old—but they’d do. You lined them up on the lawn and hosed them down, the pressure washer sputtering like it needed support. Mud splashed up your legs. You didn’t care. Your socks were soaked. You didn’t care about that either.

The seat covers and tablecloths went straight into the laundry. You tossed in more detergent than anyone with common sense should. If one of them still came out smelling like the basement, you were burning it.

You washed the mismatched dinnerware in the kitchen sink while humming a half-remembered Norah Jones song under your breath. Something soft and old, something you hadn't thought about in years until today. Until him.

And yeah, fuck, you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t been lingering in the back of your mind like static. Like a hum. Like something your body kept tuning into without permission.

He wasn’t supposed to feel so close. So here.

You lined the plates up to dry and wiped down the counters. Pulled out the boxes for the wedding favors. Little jars of homemade jam with tags that still needed tying and labels that still needed sticking. You didn’t touch them yet. Just stared at the pile, promising yourself you’d get to them in a minute. Or two. Or an hour.

And then you found the cake topper.

It had been wrapped in bubble wrap inside a shoe box labeled “DO NOT LOSE.” You peeled it open, blinked at it, then burst out laughing.

“What the hell,” you muttered, lifting it by the tiny plastic base.

It’s horrifying. The figurines look nothing like your brother and Janie. The groom’s face is too long, the bride’s hair too yellow and their eyes are staring off in opposite directions like they’re both actively regretting this.

Neither of them looked remotely like Janie or your brother.

You hold it up, tilt your head, then glance at your paintbrushes still sitting in a mason jar near the microwave.

You could fix it.

Maybe.

You turned it over in your hands, debating whether to paint it, break it. Then finally you set it down.

The fridge hummed at your back, and you remembered the cake. Three tiers. Vanilla sponge. One layer already covered in lemon curd because you’d had too much wine when you baked it the other night and got experimental.

You pulled it out and set it on the counter, fingers automatically checking the edges. Then you opened the pantry, grabbed powdered sugar and butter, and started prepping the frosting.

And that’s when you heard the knock.

One tap.

Then another.

You frowned and wiped your hands on your shirt as you walked to the back door.

And there he was.

Sidney.

Holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a case of beer in the other.

His t-shirt was soft and rumpled, his hair a little messy. He looked at you like he wasn’t sure you were real.

You blinked. “Didn’t you leave with everyone else?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. And then I left them.”

You stared. “You snuck out of your bestfriends pre-wedding bar night?”

“Yup.”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “Why?”

He held up the beer. “Because you’re icing a wedding cake alone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t explain the bag.”

He lifted it a little higher. “Fries. Burgers. Some questionable chicken fingers. Possibly poutine, but the guy behind the counter wouldn’t confirm.”

You paused.

Then opened the door wider.

“Get in here.”

He stepped inside like he’d never left. You watched him set the bag on the counter, open the fridge, and start putting the beers inside like it was his fridge.

“I thought you were gonna play darts and get nostalgic with the guys,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at you. “And then I realized I’d rather be here.”

You hesitated.

“Why?”

He finally turned, eyes steady on yours.

“Because I wanted to.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. What to say to that.

So you didn’t say anything at all.

You just handed him a spatula, nudged the frosting bowl toward him, and turned back to the cake.

He grinned. “You’re gonna let me help decorate?”

He licked a bit of frosting off his thumb. “This feels like a trap.”

“Welcome to wedding prep.”

You worked in silence for a while after that. Him holding the bowl steady. You smoothing out the top of the cake like your life depended on it. Occasionally, he’d pass you a wet towel or adjust the music playing off your phone

It was quieter now, but the kind of quiet that held something warm beneath it. The kind of quiet that felt like a conversation waiting to be had. Like your heart and his were speaking a language your mouths couldn’t yet translate.

Eventually, he leaned his hip against the counter and looked at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“You know,” he said softly, “this cake’s gonna be the best part of the whole wedding.”

You scoffed. “Please. You haven’t even seen the bar. You wanna try?"

You lift the spatula toward him, frosting-covered and halfway through smoothing the second tier. Sidney raises both brows like you’ve just offered him an organ.

“To do that?”

You nod, stepping back. “Come on. It’s not rocket science. You just… scoop, swipe, spin.”

He frowns, hesitating like the cake is a bomb. “You sure you want me touching that thing?”

“Sidney,” you sigh, “you played through broken limbs in multiple playoff series over the years but you’re scared of buttercream?”

“You make it look easy,” Sidney said, leaning a little too close over your shoulder. His voice was low, warm, familiar in a way that made your neck prickle. “It’s just... like spackling a wall, right?”

You blinked at him. “If your wall is made of sponge cake and costs your sanity, sure.”

He grinned.

You passed him the angled spatula anyway. “Alright, hotshot. Show me what you’ve got.”

He cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders, and gave you nod. “I was born for this.”

You took a cautious step back and crossed your arms. “Please don’t butcher my masterpiece.”

He dipped the spatula into the frosting bowl like he’d seen you do—slow, deliberate—and slapped a generous amount onto the side of the top tier.

You winced. “Okay. Less… aggressive.”

He dragged the frosting across the surface, but instead of smooth, elegant strokes, the cake started to resemble stucco. Lumpy, uneven stucco.

“Shit,” he muttered, tongue caught between his teeth.

“Gently,” you coached, biting back a laugh. “It’s not a defensive zone.”

“I don’t like this,” he said flatly, trying again and failing to make it better. “This is worse than icing my own bruises.”

You cackled, grabbing a towel to dab a little frosting off the base. “Oh my God. Sid. This is a wedding. Not an art therapy session.”

He looked at you with faux offense. “I’m trying.”

“You’re failing.”

He sighed and dropped the spatula into the sink with dramatic flair. “Alright. You win. I’m retiring from the cake-decorating game with a perfect record of one disaster.”

You leaned back against the counter, grinning. “It’s honestly kind of perfect. Like, ‘crafted by the hands of someone who tried really hard but should never do this again.’”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my ability to decorate a wedding cake,” he deadpanned.

You snorted, and the two of you stood there for a moment, both looking at the lopsided, slightly dented upper tier of the cake. It was charming in a way that made your heart ache. Like it had a story. Like it was loved.

“Alright,” you say. “Time to fix the monstrosity.”

“The topper?”

You pull it out of the box and hold it between you like it might start cursing.

Sidney squints at it. “Why does it look like your brother’s been possessed?”

“Right?” you mutter. “And Janie looks like a gremlin.”

He nods solemnly. “That’s a crime.”

You grab the paint box your mom keeps for craft nights and haul it to the counter. “Let’s make them hot.”

Sidney grins. “Finally. A wedding task I’m qualified for.”

You spend the next hour painting the little figures, laughing the whole time. He gives your brother abs, you paint Janie’s eyeliner on with terrifying precision. At one point, he dips the brush too far and ends up with paint on his cheek, which you dab off with your thumb before realizing how close your faces are.

Neither of you mentions it.

You left the topper dried on a paper towel, you moved on to the wedding favors—rows of little glass jam jars that still needed ribbons and tags.

He tied one ribbon and immediately groaned. “This is so not in my skillset.”

You rolled your eyes and moved closer, fingers brushing over his as you fixed his knot. “Good thing I’m here to supervise.”

You were dangerously close now, shoulder to shoulder, arms pressed together, knees bumping under the table as you leaned in to reach the far row. The tension was so natural you barely noticed it anymore—but it was there. Buzzing beneath the surface.

“I forgot how good you are at this stuff,” he murmured after a while.

You looked up. “At what?”

“Organizing chaos. Bossing people around. Making everything feel like it’s gonna be okay.”

You paused.

“Well,” you said, trying to play it off. “I did spend four years managing toddlers at a rec center. Turns out it’s excellent training for weddings.”

He smirked. “Is that what I am? A toddler?”

You shrugged. “Emotionally? Debatable.”

He laughed, and you smiled because you missed that sound—his real laugh, the one that cracked open his face and made his eyes go soft. The one you’d memorized long before you even knew you were in love with him.

After the favors were done, you both carried the chairs into the backyard.

“You thinking long rows or circles?” he asked.

“Circles?” You stared at him like he’d suggested a dunk tank. “This isn’t an AA meeting.”

He shrugged. “Just thought it’d be more communal.”

You squinted at the space. “Okay. Fine. Let’s try it.”

You spent the next twenty minutes setting the chairs up in a wide circular formation. Then you stood back and stared at it.

“I hate it,” you said flatly.

“Told you,” he said, smug.

“You literally suggested it.”

“And you approved it. That’s on you.”

You sighed and started dragging chairs around again. He joined in, and the two of you rearranged them into neat rows this time—only to realize the tables wouldn’t fit that way.

“Goddammit,” you muttered.

Sid dropped into a chair dramatically. “We’re going to die out here.”

You laughed, then sat beside him with two fresh beers from your dad’s basement stash. “If we’re going down, at least we’re drinking good stuff.”

The beer went down smooth. The night settled around you like a worn blanket—soft, warm, familiar. The air smelled like grass and sugar and possibility.

You leaned back, watching the string lights blink to life above you.

“You know something’s gonna go wrong tomorrow, right?” you said quietly.

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Something always does.”

He glanced at you. “But it’s still gonna be a good day.”

You turned your head to look at him.

“You think so?”

He shrugged. “It’s a wedding. Two people who love each other saying, ‘Let’s do this.’ That’s the whole point, right? The rest is just—” He waved his bottle. “—frosting.”

You were quiet for a beat. “You always did have a thing for metaphors.”

“You always did have a thing for cake.”

You smiled down at the beer bottle in your hands. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

He didn’t say anything after that, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that stretched long between people who knew each other. People who didn’t need to fill the quiet to feel full.

Eventually, you stood and gathered the bottles.

“You staying to help me clean this up?” you teased.

Sidney gave you a look. “Like I’d leave you to it.”

He followed you back into the house, and you didn’t stop him. You didn’t pretend to protest. You just let him move with you, beside you, like he belonged here—because in some ways, he always had.

And by the time everything was wiped down and packed away and the lights were turned off and the doors were locked, the sky had gone fully black. The stars were out.

You stood together on the porch for a long moment.

You could feel it again, that pull. That ache.

The quiet gravity of something inevitable.

And when he said goodnight, it was soft. Almost reluctant.

You didn’t watch him leave this time.

But you felt the hollow he left behind.

Same as always.

~

The wedding morning crept in slow, soft, and golden—the kind of summer light that filtered through gauzy curtains and made everything look like it belonged in a memory, not real time. You’d woken up early without needing an alarm, the weight of the day already humming in your chest before your eyes even opened.

Janie’s parents' house was already alive with quiet movement by the time you got there. The living room had been overtaken with curling irons and hairpins, coffee cups half-full and sweating into coasters, the scent of hairspray mingling with cinnamon rolls. One of the younger bridesmaids was doing a face mask in the corner while another played the same three Taylor Swift songs on repeat from her phone. A speaker somewhere softly buzzed with oldies. Someone kept misplacing their shoes. Someone else was panicking about a dress zipper.

But the chaos was calm in its own way. Like everyone knew this was what the beginning of a forever kind of day looked like.

You stood at the kitchen island curling the last pieces of one of the bridesmaids’ hair, bare feet on the cool tile, your hands moving almost automatically. This was your happy place, oddly enough. Tending to people. Making sure they looked and felt beautiful. Making sure things worked the way they were supposed to.

Janie looked beautiful. Radiant in a way that made your chest ache. Her skin glowed. Her hair curled just the way she liked it. She had her mom’s necklace on, the one you all swore she’d lose before today. She hadn’t. She looked like every version of herself from every year you’d known her—all stitched into one breathtaking woman standing in front of you in a robe and slippers.

When your brother called—right in the middle of her makeup—her face crumpled before she even answered. You watched her hand shake slightly as she pressed the phone to her ear and whispered a teary “Hi, honey,” before bursting into tears, laughing through it. The bouquet he sent arrived right after. Sunflowers, because they reminded him of that trip they took when they were eighteen and broke and stupid and completely in love.

Your own eyes welled up, and you weren’t the only one.

Everyone cried at least once that morning. Janie’s mom and yours both let it out when she stepped into the dress. You helped zip it up, hands steady, breath catching when you saw yourself in the mirror beside her. God. This was real now. All of it.

She looked at you, eyes full of love, and whispered, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

You just smiled, brushing a hand down the lace at her side. “You’re gonna wreck all of us, you know that?”

She laughed and then sniffled and immediately started blotting her face with a tissue while cursing her waterproof mascara.

You stepped away for a moment to collect yourself, standing in the hall outside the living room where everyone else was buzzing. You leaned against the wall, eyes closed, listening to the laughter and the shuffle of feet and the sound of your own heart pressing against your ribs.

You wondered how it was going at your parents’ house.

Probably like a zoo.

You pictured the groomsmen in various stages of readiness. Your dad and Janie’s dad trying to wrangle them into some type of order. Someone using too much cologne. Your brother probably calm and steady, until his tie wouldn’t cooperate. And Sidney…

Sidney ironing his shirt, sleeves rolled up, tongue caught in his teeth while he concentrated. Taking the lead in corralling the chaos. Playing along with the dumb jokes. Smiling that shy, crooked smile that could still undo you.

You shook the thought from your head. No time for that now. No space for it.

Eventually, it was go-time.

The guests were arriving. The backyard was set. The flowers were placed. The music was queued. And one by one, the bridal party lined up in order. You smoothed Janie’s veil one more time and gave her a kiss on the cheek before slipping into position. Sidney was already waiting in the sunroom, standing near the door, tie perfect, suit crisp.

He looked ridiculous. In the way that made your stomach twist. Like he had no business being that handsome when you were this emotionally vulnerable.

His eyes lit up when he saw you. And you felt it again—that shift in the air, like gravity remembered itself.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, like a secret.

“Hey,” you breathed, smoothing your dress even though it didn’t need smoothing.

“You look…”

You raised a brow. “Careful.”

He laughed, soft and quiet. “I was gonna say beautiful. But I could go with, uh… ‘passable.’ If that’s safer.”

You smiled. It reached your eyes.

“Thanks,” you said. “You clean up okay, too.”

He shifted his weight. Glanced down at his dress shoes. “Do we know what we’re doing?”

“Vaguely.”

He nodded. “Good.”

A pause. Long enough to feel like something could be said. Like maybe the weight of everything between you—the years, the silences, the closeness—might spill over.

But then the music started.

Everyone shifted.

The groomsmen straightened up. The bridesmaids checked their bouquets. The sun poured in through the sunroom windows like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

And just like that, it began.

You and Sidney walked out together—best man and maid of honor. For what felt like the billionth time in your lives. Every school dance. Every birthday party. Every made-up backyard ceremony when you were kids. You’d always been the two flanking your brother and Janie. Like you were orbiting around the same center.

It felt right.

Too right.

Your arm was linked in his. His fingers brushed against your wrist. Your pace matched without thinking. He was warm beside you, steady. And in your head, all you could hear was your heartbeat.

The ceremony itself felt like a blur. Soft and warm and spinning just a little. Janie’s vows cracked on the last sentence. Your brother choked up halfway through his. Someone’s baby wailed at the exact wrong time and then immediately calmed down when Janie smiled at them. Everyone cried. Everyone.

You caught Sidney brushing at his eye discreetly once.

And then it was done.

The kiss. The cheer. The applause. The breath that everyone had been holding finally let out.

They were married.

You stood there, bouquet in hand, your cheeks aching from smiling so hard. And across from you, Sidney looked like he’d just witnessed magic.

And maybe you had.

Because in that moment, watching your best friend marry the love of her life, standing beside the man who—against all your better judgment—still held pieces of your heart in places you didn’t talk about…

You felt it.

The ache. The wonder. The possibility.

And it wasn’t just Janie and your brother who had stepped into forever.

It was the part of you that remembered love as something patient. Something quiet. Something that never really let go.

And it was the part of Sidney that never stopped waiting for the right moment.

Even when it never quite came.

By the time everyone trickled into your parents’ backyard for the reception the sun had started its slow descent, and you swear—swear—it had never looked more beautiful.

Not in that overly-curated, perfect kind of way. But in the real kind of beautiful. The kind that was built on effort and love and chairs you sprayed down yourself just yesterday.

Everything had come together. Somehow.

The tent was strung with the fairy lights you wrestled with. The tables you and Sidney rearranged three times were now covered in mismatched tablecloths and little jam jar favors, already half-raided by kids sneaking spoonfuls of berry preserves. The centerpieces were simple, garden-style—baby’s breath and daisies from your aunt’s backyard. The cake, now perfectly imperfect with that slightly wonky upper tier and the hand-painted topper, sat on a side table like a monument to chaos and teamwork.

Cocktail hour blurred by in a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, passed pastries, and the occasional rogue frisbee someone’s cousin insisted on bringing.

And now—now the string lights were starting to glow as the sky shifted from coral to lavender to navy, and people were finally settling into their seats for dinner.

You and Sidney had been ushered to the long table reserved for the wedding party, directly beside the small sweetheart table where your brother and Janie now sat. She was glowing. He looked like he still hadn’t caught his breath.

Sidney pulled out your chair. Like it was instinct. Like he hadn’t missed a beat in the years between.

“Why, thank you,” you teased as you sat down, smoothing the fabric of your dress.

“I’m a gentleman,” he said, deadpan. “Don’t act surprised.”

“You did try to body check me into a snowbank when we were fifteen.”

“I also gave you my jacket afterward.”

“Because you got us lost.”

He just smiled, smug. “And you still helped me with math homework the next day.”

You scoffed and reached for the bottle of wine on the table between you. “You were lucky I was in a good mood.”

He bumped your elbow gently with his. “You were always in a good mood back then.”

Your hand stilled for a second.

The words weren’t loaded. They didn’t need to be. But they landed somewhere deep in your chest.

Because it was true, wasn’t it? You had been softer then. Lighter. Easier with your joy. He’d seen you in ways few people ever had.

You poured two glasses and changed the subject.

The music shifted—mellow, romantic. The kind of instrumental track that told everyone to hush for just a moment. Everyone turned.

Your brother and Janie walked slowly into the open center of the lawn-turned-dance-floor. He whispered something in her ear that made her throw her head back in a laugh you could feel in your chest.

They swayed, and the world softened.

Sidney leaned toward you just slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. “Remember their prom dance?”

You smiled. “She wore those rhinestone heels.”

“That she kicked off halfway through the night and walked home barefoot.”

“And he carried her through the parking lot because she stepped on a pinecone.”

You both chuckled softly, eyes still fixed on the couple twirling in the golden light.

“She’s been in love with him forever,” you murmured.

He nodded. “And he’s never looked at anyone else.”

Dinner followed. Roasted chicken, grilled vegetables, buttered potatoes, a salad that somehow vanished faster than anything else. People mingled, chairs shifted. Someone’s toddler stole a roll off the sweetheart table. Someone’s uncle took over the aux for five minutes and played ‘American Pie.’

You and Sidney stayed seated, talking.

You talked about what shows you were watching. About how you missed breakfast sandwiches from that shop near your old high school. About a summer road trip you both remembered, where the A/C broke and someone got sunburned through the car window.

You didn’t ask him about his life now, not really. He didn’t ask about yours, either.

It was unspoken—whatever you didn’t say, you still knew.

The music shifted again. Upbeat now. Bolder. Someone dragged your grandma onto the dance floor and she ate it up, hips swaying, hands clapping. More people joined. Couples. Cousins. Friends you hadn’t seen in years.

The fairy lights blinked. The stars blinked back.

And then—

“You wanna dance?”

You turned your head.

Sidney was already looking at you, soft and sure and impossible to say no to.

You raised an eyebrow. “You dance now?”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “For you? Always have.”

Your heart did something—a misstep, a flutter, a leap.

You didn’t trust your voice. So you just stood.

He followed.

And suddenly, you were in the middle of the backyard, surrounded by music and string lights and people laughing and clapping—and none of it mattered.

Because it was you and him again. Like it always had been.

He rested one hand on your waist. Not low. Not possessive. Just enough.

Your hand found his shoulder.

And you danced.

Not well. Not choreographed. Not even really in rhythm.

But it was easy.

It was good.

He spun you once, badly. You laughed. He tried again. You let him.

“Still terrible at this,” you murmured, grinning up at him.

“I’m carrying the team,” he shot back.

You bumped your hip into his. “You wish.”

He laughed, head tilting just slightly down. Close enough to smell his cologne again. That warm, steady scent that had burrowed into your memory years ago and refused to leave.

“You know,” he said softly, voice barely above the music, “I missed this.”

“Weddings?” you teased.

“Us.”

Your heart clenched.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because you had missed this. You missed him.

And standing there, swaying in a circle you’d drawn for yourselves, you realized the ache between you was less like a wound now and more like a tether—long, stretched, frayed at the ends, but still holding.

Sidney didn’t let you go. Not after that first dance. One song had turned into two, then three.

And suddenly it felt like you’d been dancing forever.

Not in a bad way. Not even in the way that made your feet ache or your dress feel too tight or your smile start to droop. But in the way that made time melt, made the moments stretch into something suspended—something you weren’t ready to step out of just yet. The night was buzzing around you, glowing with a kind of golden blur. Love floated like pollen in the air. Warm and light and soft.

The dance floor was completely full now—your parents, Janie’s aunts, a handful of toddlers spinning in circles, your brother in his wrinkled shirt letting Janie lead her niece around like a parade. Everything was joy. Everything was loud and lovely and lit by fairy lights strung overhead and the occasional flicker from someone’s camera flash.

And still, Sidney’s hand was at your waist. His fingers relaxed now, like they knew their place there. Like they remembered.

The music had faded into something slower without either of you really noticing. A low, sway-heavy song, no lyrics, just soft guitar and subtle piano and something about it that made you feel like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

He held you a little closer now, but not possessively. Just like he didn’t want to let go.

And honestly, you didn’t either.

Your voice was low when you spoke. “Do you remember Janie’s 18th birthday? That party in her parents’ basement?”

Sidney let out a breath of a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “The one with the broken karaoke machine?”

You nodded. “And those horrible frozen margaritas someone’s cousin brought in a cooler.”

“Oh my God,” he groaned. “I’ve never been so sick in my life.”

“You tried to sing with a fever and a black eye.”

“I did not have a black eye.”

“You absolutely did. It was from a pick up game—”

“Okay, fine. But I nailed the bridge.”

You rolled your eyes. “You screamed the bridge.”

Sid grinned. “And everyone cheered.”

You shook your head with a smile, and it went quiet for a few beats, the music filling the space between your bodies as you shifted in place, still swaying.

After a moment, you asked, “How are things in Pittsburgh?”

It came out softer than you intended. Like you were afraid to actually hear the answer.

He blinked, like the question caught him off guard. “They’re… alright,” he said after a second. “Good, even. Mostly.”

You gave him a look. “That sounds fake.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “It’s just—y’know. Same thing, different season. Routines. Practice. Home games. Media. The usual.”

You nodded slowly. “And… personally?”

His eyes flicked to yours.

He shrugged, mouth quirking with a tight smile. “It’s quiet.”

Quiet.

You didn’t press. You just nodded, because you understood exactly what he meant. Maybe better than you wanted to admit.

You glanced down for a second, watched the toes of your shoes brush softly against his. “I feel like I haven’t asked you about any of this in forever.”

He didn’t answer right away. But his thumb brushed the side of your waist, absentminded, like a current running through him.

“You used to be the only one who ever asked,” he said quietly. “Like, really asked.”

That hit harder than you expected.

You looked up at him again. His expression was unreadable, the kind of blank you knew was hiding a whole storm underneath. The kind he wore when he didn’t want to give something away.

Your voice dipped lower. “How long will you be in town?”

“Well,” he said. “Most of the summer probably.”

“That long?”

He shook his head. “Yeah. Well sort of. I’m going on a trip next Wednesday.”

You nodded.

Then he asked it.

“How long are you here?”

Your heart clenched.

“Tomorrow,” you said softly. “I leave tomorrow.”

He stopped moving for half a second. Just half a second. But you felt it.

“Oh.”

The word landed like something being dropped into water.

And then you both kept swaying, like maybe if you didn’t stop moving, you wouldn’t have to face the fact that the weekend was about to end.

That this—whatever this was, this moment between you—would be over, too.

“Guess it didn’t really hit me until now,” he said, voice quiet. “How quick this went.”

You looked at him, throat tight. “I know.”

He glanced away, jaw tightening slightly before he said, “These last two days… I had a really good time.”

You nodded. “Me too.”

And it wasn’t just small talk. It wasn’t just pleasantries.

You meant it.

Because you had.

You’d felt more like yourself in the last forty-eight hours than you had in maybe years. You’d laughed more. You’d relaxed more. You’d remembered versions of yourself that you thought were long gone.

And it was because of him.

Sidney looked at you again, and this time there was something sharp in his eyes—something that made your stomach dip.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” he said.

You swallowed. “I did.”

There was a lump growing in your throat and you weren’t even sure why—wasn’t like anything had happened. Not really. No declarations. No goodbyes. Just you and Sid and everything you couldn’t say dancing its way around the silence.

And then, in a voice quieter than you expected, he asked:

“Do you ever wonder how it happened?”

You looked up at him. “How what happened?”

His gaze was steady. Sad, almost. “How we lost each other.”

You froze.

The music kept playing. People kept laughing. Your parents were slow dancing near the bar sharing a glass of wine, Janie was now crying over a card someone had written her, your brother was chasing a flower girl who’d stolen his sunglasses. But all of that faded into something blurry.

Sidney kept going, his voice low like he wasn’t entirely sure he should be saying this aloud.

“We were close, y’know? Really fucking close. For years. And then we just… stopped. You stopped calling. I stopped trying, I guess.” His mouth twisted. “Maybe it was mutual. Or maybe I just convinced myself it was.”

You tried to say something. You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

He gave a short, dry laugh. “I just don’t know how we went from talking every damn day to this. Catching up over someone else’s wedding and pretending it doesn’t hurt.” He shook his head. “I mean, fuck, Y/N… I used to tell you everything. I used to need to tell you everything. And I thought—I thought I was your best friend. Like you were mine.”

You exhaled, shaky. “You were.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah? Doesn’t feel like it.”

Your chest cracked a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t know what happened either. I really don’t. I think we just… grew up. Life happened. And I didn’t mean to let so much time pass. I swear I didn’t.”

His eyes dropped for a second. He looked like he was trying to hold something in—something sharp, something old.

He looked back at you and said, so plainly it nearly cut you in two, “I miss you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I miss you every time something good happens. Or something really fucking bad. Or nothing at all. I miss you in the in-between. I’ll be halfway through something stupid and I’ll think, ‘God, I gotta tell Y/N,’ and then I remember I can’t. That you’re just… not there anymore.”

Your heart twisted.

“And I’ve only ever wanted all of you,” he finished, voice catching just slightly at the end.

Your voice cracked when you answered, “You think I didn’t feel the same?”

He blinked.

“I’ve gone to your games,” you blurted.

Sid’s brows pulled together.

His mouth parted, stunned. “You came to my games?”

You glanced up at him. “Over the years. Just a few. I didn’t… I didn’t make a thing of it. I never said hi, I just sat up in the stands. It was the closest I could get to you.”

His expression shattered. Quietly. Subtly. But you saw it happen.

“I always looked for you,” he said. “Every single time. I thought—God, I thought maybe one day I’d turn around and you’d just be there.”

“I was,” you whispered. “You just didn’t know it.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know how to explain what I was doing there. And I was scared if I said anything… I’d want more.” You bit your lip. “And I wasn’t allowed to want more.”

His expression softened into something achingly tender.

“And now,” you went on, “we’re standing here like no time has passed, but all the time has passed. We missed it all. Everything. We don’t even know each other anymore.”

“Bullshit,” he said, sharp. “I still know you. I know your laugh. I know the way your shoulders tense when you’re overthinking. I know when you’re holding your breath. I know when you’re about to cry.” His hand skimmed just slightly up your spine. “I still know you.”

You closed your eyes. Let your forehead rest lightly against his chest. Just for a second.

It felt like peace. Like pain. Like home.

And then, in a voice so soft you could’ve imagined it, he asked: “Why didn’t it ever work for us?”

It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t bitter. It wasn’t an accusation.

It was just honest.

Raw. Earnest. And full of the kind of love that had waited in silence for too many years. He looked so open. So devastatingly full of love and pain and quiet disbelief. Like he couldn’t understand why it didn’t work, because he’d never stopped wanting it to.

And God, it almost brought you to your knees.

You’d asked yourself the same question in the quietest parts of the night. When you couldn’t sleep. When your heart was aching. When someone who wasn’t Sidney made you laugh, and it didn’t feel the same.

And for the first time, you were ready to try and answer.

“I think—”

“Sweetheart?” your mom’s voice cut through the air like a knife wrapped in silk.

You blinked, still wrapped in Sidney’s arms. Still wrapped in everything unspoken.

You turned slightly and saw her standing just a few feet off the dance floor, her hands wringing together, eyes soft.

“Sorry to interrupt, sweetie,” she said gently. “But someone’s here for you.”

You frowned. “What?”

She gave a small nod toward the house. “He’s waiting by the back door.”

You followed her gaze. There, standing awkwardly just outside the back entrance, was him.

Your boyfriend. His outline backlit by the kitchen light, his tie loosened, holding his phone like he’d just parked and come straight in. You’d told him not to bother. He said he’d try anyway. And apparently, he had.

You turned back to Sid, heart in your throat.

His face had changed. You saw the confusion first—then the realization. And then something resigned. Something that slashed through you like glass.

He nodded once. Small. Controlled.

You opened your mouth to explain. To do something.

But he shook his head—just once. Subtle. Final.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice barely audible. “Go.”

Your heart twisted.

“Sid—” you tried, because you had to say something—anything to soften the crack.

But your mom had already stepped into your place, gently taking your hand and brushing her thumb across your knuckles like a quiet usher. Her expression said everything. Go on, sweetheart. Do the right thing.

And even though every fiber of you wanted to stay planted right there in his arms—to tell him everything, to say, It was always you. It’ll always be you—you didn’t.

You didn’t say anything at all.

You just walked away.

You walked toward the man who was good. Kind. Safe.

And with every step, it felt like you were leaving a piece of yourself behind on that dance floor. Like you were bleeding out in the quietest, most polite way possible.

You didn’t turn around.

You didn’t let yourself.

But if you had, you would’ve seen him standing alone now. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders heavy. Watching the spot where you’d been just moments ago.

Because leaving him behind on that dance floor?

Leaving this behind—whatever it had been, whatever it could’ve been?

It felt like walking away from the person you’d always belong to.

From the man you dreamed of building a life with.

From a version of love that lived so deep in your bones, you weren’t sure who you were without it.

And you did it anyway.

Because you’d grown up. Because timing was never on your side. Because sometimes love doesn’t equal right.

You walked toward the man waiting for you.

But you knew no matter how warm his arms felt, no matter how kind his smile, he wasn’t the one who got the pieces of you that were still scattered in Sidney Crosby’s hands.

—

[blackwidowbabe]

Life Saver

Description: Sam sets you up on a blind date with his coworker. Upon first meeting her, Natasha comes off as uninterested, but once she "saves your life," you see how there may be more to her than just a serious facade.

Tags: Sam is a wingman, attempted shy!Nat, fem!reader, switching povs

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: we stan wingman Sam.

"Trust me, you'll love her." 

Natasha could only raise a brow at her friend. Several days ago, she witnessed firsthand how Sam targeted Bucky, his reasoning being how his “last date can't—no—shouldn't be in the 1940s.” And apparently she was his next victim. 

Natasha stepped away from the punching bag in the training room. “Sam, I don't do dates." 

As she undid her boxing gloves, Sam leaned against the heavy bag, crossing his arms. “Are you telling me that the infamous Black Widow is scared of a date but not killer aliens?” 

Natasha huffed. She wasn't scared, she’d been on countless dates in the past. Except ones with hidden microphones and earpieces. When it came to real ones, she knew she was hopeless. She tried—really did—but through all the butterflies and intimacy, she’d much rather boost Tony's ego. 

"Dating isn't for me." 

Sam gave her an incredulous look. "But the killer aliens are?" 

Natasha would’ve groaned if she weren’t taking a drink from her water bottle. 

Sam looked at her pleadingly, "come on, Nat. I got Bucky to go out with someone. Bucky, the Winter Solider. The guy who hates everyone.” 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”  

“Nope, this is the best thing I could be doing right now.” He crossed his arms stubbornly. 

Natasha sighed with annoyance. She knew Sam wouldn’t drop this—not when he set his sights on something. Part of her wanted to agree to his plan just to get him off her back, but the other part of her didn’t want to make her potential date suffer.

She went with the first part and agreed. “Fine.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Nat, you're going to love her. She’s pretty and nice—” 

“That’s the most basic advertising I’ve heard.” 

“She’s also funny.” 

“I don’t need funny.” 

"Of course you do. You lack sunshine. You make sunflowers turn the other way." 

Natasha wiped her forehead with a small towel, collecting the beads of sweat she got during her workout. Sam continued grinning like his master plan was coming together, which in fairness, was. "You'll also be pleased to know that your date with her is tonight." 

Halting, Natasha whirled around to face Sam. "Tonight?" 

"Don't opt out because I may have already booked the place. It's five stars, so wear a fancy dress." 

Turning on his heels, Sam made his way out of the training room. 

“Wait,” Natasha called out, “remind me of their name again.” 

Sam smirked proudly as he glanced back at the redhead, “Y/N Y/L/N!” 

—— 

“Does this look not fancy enough?” You looked for assurance at Sarah, Sam’s sister, who knew all too well of her brother’s recent Cupid-roleplay spree. 

Nonetheless, she helped you get dolled up for your blind date. 

“You look great. Just don’t look so nervous.” She carefully moved a lock of your hair to the side. “Besides, if it doesn’t go well, at least you got something to eat.” 

You hummed in agreement, although you couldn’t help but fidget nervously with your fingers. “What if I bomb this?” 

“Then I’ll beat Sam up for you.” 

You laughed, even though there was a chance that Sarah was not exaggerating.  

She put her hands on your shoulders and looked straight at you. “Just be yourself and have fun, okay?” 

Finding her eyes, you smiled and nodded firmly, convincing yourself you could do this. “Okay.”

—— 

It didn’t take long to arrive at the restaurant. As Sam mentioned, the place was quite esteemed; the entrance was decked with warm lighting and polished iron railings, leading to a grandiose door where a bouncer stood out front. 

“Name?” His voice meant business. 

“Wilson,” you replied, your fingers grazing nervously over the hem of the dress Sarah picked for you. It was much more lavish than the rest of your closet—something that nearly killed you when you glanced briefly at the price tag. You only wore it once a while ago, and Sarah insisted this was the perfect occasion to wear it again.

Nodding once, the bouncer let you inside. The restaurant’s interior clearly lived up to the five stars it was given. Soft lighting, the delicious smell of food in the air, and neatly decorated tables dressed in pretty tablecloths. 

After making your way to your table—a table for two, tucked to the side with a tall cream candle burning in the center—you seated yourself gingerly. You were the first to arrive. 

You wondered if this was a good idea. Now that you thought about it, Sam did seem a little too eager to set you up with his coworker. 

You were so lost in your thought that you didn’t notice someone stop at your table. 

“Are you Y/N?” 

Snapping your head up, you saw your date. Dressed in a dark dress, with her sheer red hair curled and done in a slight updo and gold jewelry adorning her wrists and ears—it was needless to say she was beautiful. 

You nodded quickly, “yes. You must be Natasha.” 

Gracefully, she sat across from you, offering a small polite smile with soft pink lips.

The waiter arrived shortly and the two of you ordered your drinks. Then you sat in a silence. 

You weren’t a stranger to small talk, not after the few unsuccessful dates in your past, and yet you anxiously sipped your drink, nearly finishing the glass after a few minutes. Natasha watched you carefully, showing no sign of interest in starting the conversation. 

You cleared your throat, taking initiative. “So, you work with Sam.” 

Natasha nodded. “And you’re his friend," she stated factually, like you were a coworker. 

“That’s right.” You swallowed. 

“How did you two meet?” 

You began to wonder if Sam set you up for a secret interrogation. “I was first friends with his sister,” you started, watching the redhead swirl the straw around her drink with a manicured hand. Her eyes never left yours, the gaze hard and challenging.

With how hard she looked at you, you thought she'd burn a hole in your head. You continued, “I got to know him through that connection.” 

Natasha nodded again, wordless. 

You twiddled your thumbs. Maybe this was your time to ask questions. “Sam tells me you’re Russian.” 

“I am.” 

“Can you say something?” 

She quirked a brow, “chto-nibud'?” 

“What does that mean?” 

“‘Something.’” 

You let out a small laugh, although she seemed partly serious. Hopefully the food would be less awkward. 

—— 

Clearly the joke didn't land. You chuckled politely, but it didn't take a genius to see that Natasha failed horribly at easing the mood. 

Then, she changed her mind. She wasn't scared of dates—she hated them. She would rather destabilize a country right now. 

What made matters worse, is that you were gorgeous. The white dress you had on made you look like a swan come to life; the color complemented your skin winsomly.  

Across the table, once the food arrived, you happily focused on your meal—but who would blame you? Natasha was struggling to find something to talk about besides the thirty-four different ways she knew how to kill a man. Half of them weren't exactly dinner conversation either. So she stayed quiet, thinking. 

Suddenly, you gasped. Your wine glass jolted, and as you placed it back on the table, small, dark red droplets fell aside the circular bottom of the glass. Immediately, Natasha noticed something went wrong. For one, you stared worriedly in your lap. 

"What's wrong?" She asked.

You sighed in disappointment, "I spilled some wine on my lap." You reached for your napkin to wipe what you could. 

"Wait," Natasha stopped you. "Here," she picked up the small salt shaker standing on the side of the table and handed it to you. "Salt will absorb the stain—pour a bunch on it." 

Your fingers brushed as you took the shaker from her. She watched you do as she said, the small white rocks pooling on wherever the stain was on your lap.

"And then?" You questioned.

"You wait a while, then brush it off with your napkin." 

You nodded, then cracked a smile, "I think I would've cried if I ruined this dress for good. It made a dent in my budget." 

Natasha gave a small smile. She wouldn't mention that she took a wild guess with handling the wine stain, since she only used that method once on blood when she made an assassination in a kitchen. 

"Where did you learn that anyway?" You asked. 

"My work," she replied vaguely, "I've picked up a few hacks." 

"Hm. Sam doesn't have any of those." 

"Different department." 

—— 

Natasha toyed with the hem of her dress. You both finished your meals, and Natasha insisted she pay—benefits of SHIELD's company card. She really wanted to make up for her lack of effort during most of the date. 

The two of you sat in silence once the waiter took the card to complete the payment. 

Your eyes sparkled, "wow, the stain looks better already." You set the napkin back on the table. 

Natasha smiled, glad that she helped. Her fingers fiddled with the rings on her other hand. "Sorry, by the way." 

You looked at her curiously, "sorry for what?" 

"I haven't been on a date in a long time.” She explained, “like a real one. I forgot how hard they are.”

You smiled at her sweetly, "you don't need to apologize for that. I mean—you’re a life saver. For my wallet and dress." 

Natasha felt a wave of relief wash over her, and she spoke with a twinge of hope in her voice. "Does that mean... a second date?" 

You grinned, relieved by the fact that Natasha was simply shy this whole time. "Sure. Let's just make sure Sam doesn't find out." 

[thethingsnerd]

On the face of it, I like this, because I love a came back wrong twist, but unfortunately the longer I'm alive the more annoyed I am by this notion that being honest is inextricable from being harsh. Why do we tell ourselves that honesty is always cruel?

"The dead cannot lie." Okay, why does that take away her gentleness? Are you saying that everyday, every hour of her life she put on a false face? Every interaction she ever had was colored first with spite and disdain, and she only pretended otherwise? Are you saying she was a judgemental bitch who kept track of every wrong doing and only said kind things to keep peace? That she was somehow the world's greatest actress? Its greatest conman?

I don't think so. I don't think that was the intention at all. We all lie to people we love sometimes. We all swallow uncomfortable feelings and let things slide that we'd rather not.

The thing that really gets me about this particular pretense is that it wants to present a world where we must confront our own failings, but assumes that such confrontation must be akin to someone stabbing you in the back.

Quick aside, there's this thing that happens in betrayal plots, sometimes, where after the traitor is revealed they begin acting entirely differently. For however long we knew them, they were kind and friendly and helpful, and as soon as they are revealed they are cartoonishly evil. This is so the audience doesn't have to feel bad when the good guy kicks their ass, but it also weakens the reveal. Traitor plots really hit when the character you grew to love is still them... just, not on your side. Not yours, not anymore. This current story premise has a lot of the same problems for me.

The dead girl walking here was "kind and gentle". We take this as a generic description of "person who doesn't cause problems" but think about it, that sucks! It means something to be kind. It means something to be gentle. It is harder to keep those things with you when having a hard conversation, but it isn't impossible. It is, in fact, much kinder because it was difficult.

There are kind ways to tell people they are fucking up. That doesn't mean they'll take it kindly, because we all hate to reckon with ourselves. It's painful to know our actions had a negative impact. That doesn't mean learning of that negative impact needs to be a hurtful thing.

Let me put it this way: getting hit in head with a pillow at speed and getting hit in the head with a steel beam at speed both hurt, but you should still choose to be the pillow.

I think about telling the truth a lot. I have to, because I'm a chronic liar and I'm prone to lying when I don't make the effort to be honest. This is a shitty thing about me which has caused problems for other people. And it sucks. I hate that. I hate that I have to try really hard to make sure the things I'm saying are true- but that means I have learned pretty well how to say things that are true, even when they are not the nice lie I instinctively want to say. So, please believe me when I say there are a thousand ways to have tough, shitty conversations about old grievances and new grievances and annoyances and scary things that do not involve harshness or coldness. The cold, hard truth is itself a lie! It is not inherent!

Telling the truth can be sensitive. Telling the truth can be considerate. Telling the truth can be playful. Telling the truth can be exasperated. Telling the truth can be heartbreaking. Telling the truth can be brutal- but it absolutely does not have to be.

Side note: If someone were to say, "clearly this is about abusive/unsafe households where lying was a necessary survival skill" or "narcissists can't handle the truth no matter what" I would say that those kinds of families, that kind of dynamic, would not think twice about someone else's death except to use it for sympathy points. I would say the kind of household we are collectively imagining deserves this kind of reckoning, this retribution, would never have moved Heaven and Earth to get her back in the first place.

TL;DR If you are kind so should be your honesty. There is no reason for it not to be but by your choice.

A story where someone is brought back from the dead, and at first it seems like it's all Came Back Wrong: This is no longer the person that the people around her knew - she has the same memories as she did in life, knows the same people and has the same skills and habits, but she says things that she never would have in her life. Harsh, cruel, and frightening things. There is no more peace in the house because of the things she tells people, picking at wounds in the household with surgical presicion.

When asked why she must be like this, and why she cannot just be the kind and gentle person she was before - the one they loved and wanted back so badly that they broke the laws of nature to return her to life - she tells them that they should not have done that. This household will never know peace again until either she dies again or someone else in the family does.

She is still the same person, with the same thoughts and feelings. Only one thing has changed: The dead cannot lie.

[xoln04f1xo]

Pairings: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: Makeout, implied sex, mention of alcohol, angry parents, bad boy lando, parents walking in, flashback to when they met, mental health themes, suicidal thoughts, mentions of death, lando helps, fluff, smut, angst, suggestive. Kind of a mix of everything.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU READ. NOT ME.

WC: 2.6k

🎵: Fill me in - Craig David

Your parents had gone out again. So you called Lando.

"Hey, they're gone, you can come over."

You got a bottle of red wine out and put it on the table as well as turning on the jacuzzi.

The second you opened the door his lips were on yours. He kicked the door shut behind him and his hands were firm on your hips. One second you were against the wall and the next he was hovering over you on the couch. You break away from the kiss. "I turned on the jacuzzi, come."

He followed you through the house to the garden. You both turned your phones on DND so you couldn't be distracted. Stripped off your clothes and climbed into the hot tub, you straddled his legs while kissing him and one thing led to another.

Later on you ended up in your room watching a random movie neither of you were really paying attention to.

Your parents got home and Lando was quick to hide in your closet in case they came in.

"Hey, why is the hot tub on?" your mum shouted upstairs.

"I'll be right down, two seconds." you shout down.

You put a hoodie and shorts on, walk downstairs to say hi to your parents while Lando was still upstairs in your closet which made you giggle a bit.

"I'll turn off the jacuzzi now." you say. "Thank you sweetheart." your dad says.

Once you did that, you went back upstairs with snacks and drinks. "Lando you can come out of the closet now... never thought I'd say that ever in my life." You let out a giggle when you see his messy hair.

Your parents could never know about you and Lando... the would freak the fuck out because he wasn't known for his good behaviour.

A little while later Lando snuck out of the window and went home.

The next morning your parents sat you down at breakfast and lets just say they had questions...

"Why were you creeping around late last night?"

You didn't know how to answer, you were just shocked. You didn't know what they saw or even if they saw Lando so you just answered "huh? what are you on about?"

"Why could I see two shadows moving in your bedroom light?"

You just sat there in silence staring at your breakfast. You didn't know what to say.

"Okay fine I had a friend over... I knew you would say no so I just invited them over anyways." You say not giving away the fact that Lando was there and the activities you got up to.

"I'm going upstairs." You say.

When you get to your room you called Lando.

"I just got questioned by my parents about last night. Are you sure you went around the side of the house? Your sure they didn't see you?"

"Yes Y/N, they didn't see me. I promise."

"Okay. My parents are on holiday if you wanna come over later?" he asks.

"Yeah okay. I'll tell my mum I'm going to spend a night at a friends house. I'll see you later."

Lando 🧡😻

I'm parked down the street x

Y/N

On my way. Be there in 5 x

"Mum, I'm going out with a friend." you said. "Okay be back for 12 yeah?" you nod. You walked down the street and checked no one was looking before you got in the car.

"Hey," you say and kissed him. "Where are we going?"

"We are going to a club." He starts the car and drives for about 20 minutes.

You get to skip the line because Lando used to do business with him whatever that means... you didn't really want to know.

The second you went in he dragged you to the dancefloor. You started dancing with him. He bought you a few drinks and was by your side all night.

Before you knew it, it was 2AM and you still had to walk home. Lando gave you his hoodie cause you were cold.

It was around 4AM when you got home, drunk. Your parents had tried calling you multiple times but your phone died which made them worried...even though you were 20.

"You said you would be home at 12 but walking in at 4?" 'Out with the girls' but leaving with the boy next door? Is that who you were with last night hmm? Is that his hoodie your wearing?" They asked.

You rolled your eyes.

"Stop firing questions at me like I'm on a fucking game show. God, why does it matter who I'm with? Why does it matter if I'm with Lando?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"Because he hasn't had the best behaviour record." Your dad said rubbing his hands over his face tired and clearly stressed that you were even hanging around Lando.

"Whatever." You walked upstairs.

Y/N

Look. My parents know about us. They saw me get in your car earlier and they saw your shoes by the front door the other day.

Lando 🧡😻

Fuck. You okay?

Y/N

I'm fine. Besides the fact they quizzed me like I was on a fucking game show. I didn't say anything though.

Lando 🧡😻

Good, as long as your okay though. Goodnight my love xx

[ A FEW WEEKS LATER... ]

Your parents were gone for the dinner.

...or so you thought.

You barely heard the door click shut before Lando had you pressed up against your bedroom wall, hands tangled in your hair, lips feverish against your neck.

"You've been teasing me all day," he murmured, voice low, sending shivers down your spine. His accent, that smirk... deadly. "You knew exactly what you were doing wearing that dress."

You gasped a laugh, tugging at his shirt. "I didn't wear it for you."

He pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Liar,"

Your fingers slid under his shirt, warm skin meeting yours, while his hands gripped your waist like he couldn't get close enough. The air between you crackled - heated and hungry. His mouth found yours again, slower this time, deeper. The kind of kiss that made time dissolve.

He picked you up and walked over to the bed, laying you down as he got between your thighs. Your wrists pinned above your head with one of his hands.

He was about to take your panties off when...

"Hey sweetheart, we..."

Lando's eyes widened in shock, looking at you. He got off of you wile covering you both.

Your mother froze mid sentence.

Your dad followed behind her, blinking like he was trying to un-see what was very clearly happening.

Your dad's face had turned the colour of a tomato.

Your mum? Horrified, but trying pretend she wasn't. "Oh my fuck... sorry! We thought you were..."

"We forgot the theatre tickets," your dad grumbled, still avoiding eye contact.

Lando, to his credit, recovered faster than you. He offered them a sheepish smile and a small wave, like this was a casual Thursday. "Evening, Mr and Mrs Y/L/N. Lovely weather, yeah?"

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

"Grab the shitting tickets and go." your mum hissed to your dad, dragging him out of the room like she was diffusing a bomb.

Silence.

Then Lando turned to you, biting back laughter. "Well... getting cockblocked by your parents wasn't what I meant by a good time at all."

You groaned, pulling the pillow over your face. "Kill me now..."

"Not until after round two," he whispered, grinning.

A couple hours later, the house felt heavy with tension. Lando had left after promising to text you the second he got home - though not before kissing your forehead and whispering, "Don't let them get to you." Easier said than done.

You sat on the edge of your bed, knee bouncing, heart racing like he was still there.

Then came the inevitable.

Your door swung open, nearly coming off it's hinges.

Your dad walked in first, face tight. Your mom followed, arms crossed like a full-blown jury.

"Sit." your dad said, like it was some kind of courtroom. "We need to talk."

You didn't move. "I'm already sitting."

"Don't get smart."

"You walked into my room without knocking," you shot back.

"that's not the issue," your mum snapped. "The issue is him."

"Of course it is," you muttered.

"Y/N," your dad said, tone low and warning. "You know how we feel about Lando."

"Yes. You have made that pretty fucking clear for years," you replied, voice raising. "Even when we were just friends, you treated him like some criminal."

"He's not just your friend now, is he?" your mum said, voice sharp. "And he's not exactly model boyfriend material either. Street racing? Skipping classes? Getting into fights with teachers?"

Your jaw clenched. "He's not like that anymore."

"He was like that," your dad cut in. "And that matters. People don't just change overnight because they like a pretty girl next door."

"He's not trying to impress you," you said. "He's trying to be better - for himself. You'd know that if you ever gave him a chance instead of assuming the worst every time he walks past our driveway!"

Your mom looked stunned for a second, then narrowed her eyes. "You’ve always been a smart girl, Y/N. But this? This is reckless. You don’t see it, but he’s pulling you into his mess."

"No," you said firmly. "He’s not pulling me anywhere. I’m choosing this. Choosing him. Because I know who he is when he’s not constantly being judged."

Your dad’s fists clenched at his sides. "You’re too young to throw your future away on some kid with a chip on his shoulder and a fast car."

"And you're too old to keep acting like people can’t grow!" you shouted. "You didn’t see the way he looked at me when you barged in. Like I was something good in his world."

A long, uncomfortable silence hung in the room.

Your mom finally spoke, softer now. "We just don’t want you to get hurt."

"I already am," you said. "Just not by him."

[ TWO YEARS AGO ]

It was the middle of October. Cold, grey, and quiet - too quiet for your thoughts to stay contained. You'd been unravelling for weeks, smiling when people needed you to, lying through your teeth that everything was "fine."

It wasn't.

No one really noticed. Except him.

Lando had moved in next door that summer, loud and cocky and borderline obnoxious with his music and that stupid modified go-kart he insisted on racing up and down the street. You barely spoke, except for the occasional sarcastic comment when he nearly took out your mailbox.

But that night?

He saw you. Really saw you.

You’d climbed up onto the roof - your spot when things got too heavy. Your hoodie sleeves covered trembling hands. You didn’t want to jump. You just… didn’t know how to keep going either.

You didn't hear him climb up.

"Hey."

You flinched, eyes darting to the edge where his fingers gripped the shingles as he pulled himself up with practiced ease. He looked confused at first, then serious - more serious than you had ever seen him.

"You good?" he asked quietly.

You didn't answer.

He didn't push for an answer either.

Instead, he sat down next to you, leaving a gap. One that wasn't threatening. One that said, I'll wait.

The wind whipped past. You felt like you were braking apart.

Finally, you whispered, "I don't think I want to be here anymore."

Lando didn't move.

"Like, here? On the roof?"

You blinked. That was not the reaction you had exprected.

You gave him a weak laugh - more like a breath than a sound. "No. I mean... here."

He turned his head. No judgement. Just quiet understanding.

"I kinda figured," he said. "You've been fading. I noticed."

You looked at him and then, your walls cracking. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugged. "Didn't know how. Didn't want to scare you off. But I wasn't gonna let you sit up here alone either."

Silence again. Then he asked, "You want to come down? Not for me. For you."

You nodded slowly."

And that was the first night he walked you inside, sat on your floor while you cried, and didn’t try to fix you. He just stayed. He came back the next day. And the next.

He brought snacks. Bad jokes. Dumb stories about his races. Eventually, he brought warmth. Something to look forward to.

You never told your parents. But Lando? He became your safe place.

[ BACK TO THE PRESENT ]

As you sat in your room, the echoes of the fight still ringing in your ears, that memory anchored you.

They could say whatever they wanted about Lando.

But they didn’t know.

They didn’t know how he pulled you off that roof without ever touching you.

They didn’t know he saved you before anyone even realized you needed saving.

⏲ 11:46 PM

Your room was dark, save for the soft blue glow from your phone screen. You stared at his contact photo - him in a hoodie, throwing a peace sign with a smirk. Stupid, charming, loyal Lando.

You hit call.

It rang once. Twice.

"Hey," he answered softly like he already knew.

"I didn't wake you did I?"

"No. I couldn't sleep."

You didn't speak right away. He waited, as always.

"We fought. Hard." you say, a tear rolling down your cheek.

A breath on the other line. "What did they say?"

"That I’m reckless. That I’m throwing away my future. That you’re just some mistake I haven’t figured out how to let go of yet."

Silence.

Then... "You okay?"

You blinked fast, voice tight. "I don’t know. I’m tired. And angry. And it just..." You took a shaky breath. "It hurts more than I thought it would."

"I’m sorry," he said. Not like it was his fault. Just like he meant it.

You rolled onto your side, holding the phone closer, like his voice could wrap around you.

"Lando?" you said quietly and you heard a little hum from him. "That night... on the roof. How did you know what to say? You didn't even flinch."

He hesitated, then said, "Because someone didn't get to me in time."

Your breath caught.

"I was fifteen," he went on, voice quiet. "Mate of mine. Karting kid. We were close... like brothers. He was under pressure all the time. Sponsors. Family. Expectations." A pause. "He cracked. One night he texted me something weird. I didn’t think much of it until the next day. And by then…"

He didn’t finish the sentence.

You pressed your fingers to your lips.

"I blamed myself for a long time," he continued. "Swore I’d never ignore those signs again. So when I saw you that night… I recognized it."

Tears slid silently down your cheek.

"I wasn’t trying to fix you," he said. "I just wanted you to stay. Just one more night. And the next. And the next."

You closed your eyes.

"I don’t know if I ever thanked you," you whispered.

"You don’t need to."

"I do." You sniffled, trying to smile. "You saved me. Not with some grand speech or hero move… You just sat down. And stayed."

"I’d do it again," he said. "A thousand times."

You listened to the silence between you, thick with the weight of everything you’d both been through.

"I wish they could see that side of you," you said.

"They don’t need to," he replied. "You do. That’s enough."

You smiled through the ache. "I love you, you know."

"I know," he whispered. "And I’ve got you. Always."

A/N: So... This was a very random one. A little mix of everything. I hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @dessashippr @barcelonaloverf1life @kuinasstuff @bubble012 @fangirlmusicbiashoe @linnygirl09

[jybyls]

First time || Jinx

Part | | Navigation

Synopsis: Taking care of Jinx in return.

Warnings: Smut, absolutely not proofread im sorry, bad writing, ooc, soft sex, oral (j receiving), read part one!

Words: 1.5k

- 📜🎧🍂 -

"Do you want to go next ?" No voices, no bad thoughts, nothing. Just you and her against the world. "Did you hear what I said, hun ?" You asked, your hand caressing her cheek, "Nah, your body distracted me." She answered with a cheeky tone that made you blush. You smiled and repeated yourself, "I said do you wanna go next ?" You whispered.

She didn't know how to react because she didn't know if she wanted to go next. But she did. She agreed, letting you take care of her. She trusted you with her body.

"Alright." She whispered with a small nod, her body tensing up slightly in thoughts of what was coming up. You realized how scared she looked before speaking up kindly. "Jinx, my love, we don't have to go further if you're not ready, you know that, right ?" Her red-violet eyes looked into yours with nothing but trust. "Nah, nah, I want this. I want you." Her head nodded eagerly. You analyzed her gaze to make sure she was being truthful, and she was. She wanted this. Needed this. So you gave it to her.

Your lips found her in a sweet kiss, tongues dancing together in the greatest twirl. Her hand quickly found your hair, gripping it pretty harshly which made you moan in her mouth she gladly swallowed your moan without hesitation. In the meantime, our hands caressed her waist, slowly lying her down on her back. She unconsciously spreads her legs for you.

Your lips never left hers but your hands were no longer on her waist instead they found a better spot on her thighs however both of you were still new to all this and you were scared to death to make her uncomfortable so you pulled your hands away from her, your nails were slightly brushing against the small hair on thighs.

Jinx shivered at the contact of your soft fingers against her cold skin but felt a pang of disappointment when you pulled your hands away and Jinx being Jinx shamelessly took your wrists and put those hands of yours where they belonged.

Your cheeks turned pink at her sudden action even tho you couldn't help but smile, your lips now no longer on hers as the need to breathe became impossible to avoid. "Are you ok with this?" You whispered, leaning a gentle kiss on her cheek. She nodded almost immediately, "I am, toots. Just do your thing, I trust ya." She answered, a faint, loving smile on her face. You smiled back at her until worry started to consume you.

Jinx cached the concern on your face, "What's wrong?" Her fingers rubbed your neck, "My nails... I'm scared I'll end up hurting you while... you know." You mumbled, embarrassed that you hadn't thought about that earlier. "Oh..." the blue-haired girl's voice came out just above a whisper She was thinking that all this had to come to an end until she realized something, or that you could just go look for a nail clipper but that fingers aren't the only way you could please her.

"What about your mouth?" Her big eyes looked right into your shocked ones, "My... my mouth..? I don't know how to..." Your embarrassment only grew more intense. You had no idea how you were supposed to use your mouth to pleasure her obviously, you've never done it before. "Hey toots it's okay we can learn together. As we did for you." Jinx kindly told you, comforting you in your anxious state. You took a deep breath and nodded. "Together." you whispered to yourself, nodding again, "Always," Jinx added and you agreed.

Your lips attached themselves on her neck, leaving soft kisses on her skin. She let out a soft sigh, enjoying the feeling of your pecks. Her hands never left your hair, encouraging you to keep going and to go further. And you did.

You asked if it was alright everytime your mouth got on a new spot of her skin, jinx agreed each time, growing impatient. Your head was between her thighs, hands carresing her shivering skin while your lips kissed her knees. "Can I ?" You murmured, "Yes, please." Your girlfirend begged and you applied. You kissed her inner thighs sweetly and slowly. Each time your lips found her skin you were careful like you could break her with any kiss. You were scared to start pleasuring her since you've never done this before but you were willing to learn.

"Are you ready?" You asked, getting a nod rom your loved one. You took a deep breath and held her hand, "Tell me if i'm doing it right, ok?" You asked, your anxious but ambitous eyes looking up at her lusty ones. "Of course. let vou know how t feels." She reassured you. You could tell she was more than ready. Not only because her pupils werethree times bigger from excitement but also because her cunt was so incredibly wet.

You decied to stop thinking and went for it. Your tongues lap her glitterring pussy making her shiver immendiatly. A surpringly loud moan left her mouth as her hand gripped your hair harder. You didnt need her to tell you how that felt since her moan did the work for her. So you reciprocted.

Your tongue lapped her clit and sucked on it. You tried to remember all those videos you've watched to make her feel good and goddamn you did. "Fuck! Love, that feels so gooood. You're doing amazing. Just follow your instincts." Jinx praised you, boosting your ego up.

You already felt so proud of yourself even if you haven't made her cum yet but you knew you could do it. Her legs spread themsleves wider for you as to tell you she needed more. However you wouldn't do anything if you didn't have a vocal permission. "Jinx? Can I put my tongue inside?" You asked for heryou asked for her consent that she gave you without wasting a second. You licked your lips and nodded before driving your tongue inside her warm fold. Her wall felt so warm and tight, it made you moan against her cunt.

Jinx couldn't stop moaning your name and praising you. She couldn't beleive how good you were at this. She even thought you lied to her about this being your first time. But it really was. If she could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest, she'd be sure you didn't lie. However she thought about this for a second before your tongue distracted her again. The way it curled and eather herhot cum in your mouth.

You occasionaly kissed her clit and tried to massage it with your fingers but you kept reminding yourself that your nails could hurt her if you dia bad move SO you'd remive your fingers everytime and of course jinx would whined. You pulled away to breath for a moment.

"Hey no go back. I was close." Your girl pouted, trying to drive you back into her. "Sorry. I needed to breath." You faintly panted, "Oh... yeah, right, sorry. Take your time. There's no rush." The pleasure she was feeling got the best of her but guilt quickly got her when she remember it wasn't all about her and that you were putting a lot of effort to make her feel good.

You on the other hand just nodded and got ready to go back to work because you wanted this momment to be all about her like she made your first time all about you. "Let me make you feel good." You whispered sweetly to your dear girlfriend, she couldn't do anything but agree and let you finish what you she started. Your tongue twirled around her clit making her shiver in pleasure, moan at the feeling and, grabbed your hair again.

"Fucking hell, toots, I think I'm right there!" Jinx's back arched when the feeling in her stomach got overwhelming, "Let go, baby, it's okay. I've got you." Your voice sounded so reassuring, so soft and trusting that she didn't think twice before letting go. A loud moan of your name got out of her mouth, eyes rolling to the back of her head with her legs slightly shaking around your head. You slowly stopped your mouvement, letting her come down from the first orgasm you've ever given her.

Only her heavy breathing could be heard in the room with the quiet sound of the kisses you'd leave on her stomach now and then to make sure she knew you were right there and not leaving at any moment soon. However, you pulled away for a second, "Hey. where are you going?" Her voice was so quiet you could barely hear it. "I'm just getting a towel to clean you up. I think it's what I'rmn supposed to do, right?" Jinx's smiled weakly at your uncertainty, finding it very endearing for some reason. She nodded, silently letting you know it was all alright.

You quickly got back to her with a wet towel and carefully cleaned her up. "How are you feeling?" You asked kindly as your hand caressed her hair, now cuddling up to one another, "Amazing. Absolutely amazing. You're amazing, you know that?" She murmured, making you chuckle. The night ended with both of you drifting off to sleep in each other's embrace.

Your relationship was now stronger and more trusting than ever.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: Hi 👀 I'm back ig idk how regular I'll be and sorry in advance for this shit. I rushed absolutely everything. Have a good day/night, I love y'all <3

[katmaibearfan]

given that every other obvious candidate for the boar who screwed up 32 chunk’s face has rolled into brooks falls looking fine, am i wrong to start getting worried about 747’s conspicuous absence

i think a lot of people are worried, and it's definitely something I'm thinking about also.

This is gonna get away from me a bit, just as a warning. it's gonna be long.

One of the hardest parts of watching the bears cams is the fact that there are things that we will never know. Bears do sometimes just disappear for a year or two and then come back, or return in a different season than usual (fall bears arriving in early summer, early summer bears arriving in fall). In 2017, 747 didn't show up until late August, and no one knows why or where he went. All we know is that he was somewhere else, and wherever he was, he was really successful -- he came back huge.

But, also, sometimes bears don't show up one year, and they never come back. Sometimes those bears are old and we presume that they have passed, like 410, who we last saw when she 29 years old. Sometimes those bears are young adults that we assume have moved on to somewhere else, like 902 Peanut, who we last saw when she was 6 years old. And, sometimes, those bears are adults that have used the falls their whole lives and we have no idea what happened to them, like 409 Beadnose, who we last saw when she was about 20 years old.

747 right now would be roughly 23-25 years old, since he was first seen as a subadult in 2004. So, anything could have happened to him. Maybe he's just fishing somewhere that we can't see. Maybe he passed away and it is fully unrelated to 32 Chunk's fight. Maybe he fought 32 Chunk and is off somewhere else, nursing his wounds and healing. Maybe he fought 32 Chunk and passed on from his injuries. We don't know, and we may never know. All we can do is wait and see if he turns up again.

The waiting is the worst part. Different people will have different thoughts and feelings; some will begin grieving while others are still hoping, and some will put it out of their mind entirely & just try not to think about it.

But for now, i guess...we don't know. We just don't know, and we may never know. And it sucks. And it hurts. And it would be way easier for a lot of people if we could just know. But we can't. So, we deal with the uncertainty as best we can. We speculate if that helps us, we don't if it doesn't. And we wait. And we see.

[glitchy1938]

✯The Last Hope [CRK AU]✯

Episode 3 : The Sacrifice of The Bright Of Innocent...

In all Earthbread, every Kingdom were preparing for the war that was going to happen... Dark Enchantress Cookie decided to make her plans in and destroy and make a better world for all cookies... Even the Deliciousland Kingdom were preparing for an eventual move from her and preparing the chips and flight to escape if the situation were lost. Sweet Bleu Chocola were preparing her sword and her armor as she got a letter from the other Ancients that they found where Dark Enchantress cookie reside. "YOU CAN'T GO AND FIGHT HER !! THAT IS SUICIDE !!" "I HAVE TO UNCLE ! ALL EARTHBREAD IS CRUMBLING BECAUSE OF HER !!" As you can see, her uncle, didn't care about Dark Enchantress Cookie and her plans... He rather crumble right here then to lose her too... "As much as I'm loyal to you. I agree with his majesty."you said as you watch them arguing from the news. "Y/n Cookie. Don't start, we need all our power to stop Dark Enchantress Cookie and I have to join !" "And I repeat that YOU WON'T PUT FOOT OUT OF THIS CASTLE !!"

It was the first argument they ever had... He never thought he you even yelled at her or argument with her.... But who can blame him ? As much as the Ancients are strong, she may found a new power to surpass theirs... And if she die then... Then... "I know you're scared..." He flinch at her words. "I'm scared too... But... If it's one last thing Louna tought me, is fight for what is right... And I'll come back one day !... I-i know I'll see you all here !..." She shake a little, you immediately hugged her as you couldn't help but tear up... "Please your highness..!! Let-let me join you !!.. I-i'll be there to protect you and-" "Sorry y/n... You... You can't..." You froze at her words.. "If you come... There's a high chance you'll be badly hurt..!! It's my fight. I HAVE to put an end to this.. But I have an important mission for you both.." you and her majesty listen carefully. "I want you to protect all the innocent in our Kingdom or the cookies in need/in danger..!! And Uncle, please don't change... I know it won't be easy... But please stay strong..." He looked away from her.... But her accepted... He'll trust the Ancients for protecting her at all costs....

Meanwhile, At the Dark Enchantress Cookie's Castle...

"What do you mean you quite ?!?" Louna remain silent, with no emotions in her. "Bu-bu-but My Lady !! What would Dark Enchantress Cookie would think of your démition ?!" Licorice cookie asked terrified for their second leader. The dark Flour was beginning and Louna had more important things to save... "We had a deal, whenever I want I can quite. Don't worry, you'll do great without me, just... Don't let her get closer to the Silver Tree. Am I clear ?.." They all agree only Pomegranate cookie remain lost in her thoughts.... Not so long later, Louna came to the guest room where her "master" was creating a spell to get the Soul Jams back, she look back and saw Louna kneeling as a sigh of respect. "Ahh~, my best right hand of all~! I was just about to get you to see-" "Boss I quite." She stop as her eyes wide open at her announce... Then sight a little deception at this new.... "Well... I can only give you that..*sight* you fough well... I hope you'll find what you're looking for.." "Thanks boss... And farewell.." she took her leave and took her things and walk to the opposite of the war... She hope her sister was safe in the kingdom and can support it....

If only....

As the Ancients ran in the crumbling Castle, they ready themselves for facing their enemy and stop this war.

White Lily : "This is... Oh no, what an horrible sight."

Hollyberry : "The whole place is covered in cookie crumbs !"

Dark Cacao : Foul sticky cream... The stench of burnt butter in the air...

Golden Cheese : What on Earthbread is going on here ?!

Sweet Blue Choco : I don't know, but whatever that is, we MUST stop it !

Pure Vanilla : It's not good. Dark Enchantress Cookie has declared war on The Vanilla Kingdom.

Dark Cacao : The Cookie who has brought the Cake Monster army into our lands ?

Pure Vanilla : Yes. She attacked while I was occupied elsewhere.

Hollyberry : Hah ! That's gotta be some hard flour, for such a brazen strike.

Sweet Bleu Choco : We must find Dark Enchantress Cookie Quickly ! Come on !

Suddenly a little Army or Cake hounds was running towards them as they ready their swords. Dark Cacao immediately jump and strike them down with his blade, making their way clear for now. As they fight all the Cake Hounds off their way, they faced Dark Enchantress Cookie who was waiting for them to come.

Dark Enchantress : And so, upon the ruin of your home, we meet. You're rather late... To your own demise !

Pure Vanilla : Dark Enchantress Cookie ! What is the meaning of this ?!

Dark Enchantress : Let me ask you a question, Do you know the real reason why we, cookies, are created ?

Golden Cheese : What NONSENSE are you wedding now ?!

She just smile at their ignorance.

Dark Enchantress : Now, now. THINK for a moment. I hope it's not too hard, way do we exist ?

Hollyberry : That's easy- to live and and be happy all together ! That's exactly why we were brought into this world. Happiness, Dark Enchantress Cookie. That's what it's all about.

Dark Enchantress : Oh, really ? And when, pray tell, are you the happiest ? When you fall and crumble ? Or when you become - dare I say it... Hahaha ! SOGGY !

Dark Cacao : we are together, in peace and in battle. This is our strength !

Sweet Blue Choco : We won't back down now, Dark Enchantress Cookie. Stop it right now, we may find a way out of this !

Dark Enchantress : And do tell me HOW are YOU going to make me change my mind ?

Sweet Blue Choco : Because Villains are NEVER born. If you're asking us this question, you mind have found something that made you on edge...

Dark Enchantress flinched..

Sweet Blue Choco : You want to change this so what you saw will never happen. But it's not the way that'll make the world better !

Dark Enchantress : You... Know NOTHING that I saw... Nor my attention. You. Are. Nothing BUT A COOKIE !!

Dark Cacao : DON'T YOU DARE DISRESPECT HER LIKE THAT !!

Dark Enchantress : I shall show you the tragic error of your ways- right here, right now !

Suddenly, the castle started to tremble the an giant Cake Witch made by her magic was summoned and destroy the thrown, Dark Enchantress then throw dark sphere at them but got blocked by the shield of Hollyberry.

Pure Vanilla : The Cake Witch is channeling energy. We must use the pause to avert her next attack !

As Pure Vanilla use his magic, the Cake Witch throw them a giant laser but that didn't work as his spell protect them.

White Lily : listen, we can win this battle...!

Sweet Blue Choco : Yeah ! Everyone, CHARGE !!

As they fight with all their powers, the Cake Witch was getting weak but the minutes. Dark Enchantress Cookie was almost defeated ! "GAH !!! HOW DARE YOU !!! NOTHING CAN STOP ME ! ESPECIALLY YOU !" The Cake Witch lift his blade up and prepared to finish them all. "Dark Enchantress Cookie, NO !!" But it was too late... The six heroes were all down and too weak to stand... Dark Enchantress Cookie toke the opportunity to take their Soul Jams, she laughed of victory as she look at the Five Soul Jams. "YES ! HAHAHA !! Simply marvelous !! Say goodbye to your Soul Jams. IT'S ALL MINE NO- wait...." She fixed her eyes on the Soul Jams... But there was ONE missing. "Where is the sixth ?! I thought-" "My Soul Jam will NOT be yours !..." And that was true, the sixth Soul Jam was still on her, refusing to come. Dark Enchantress Cookie thought of using the five ones would lead the last one to them. As Sweet Bleu and the others looked at her preparing her final strike... She have no choice....She have to do it... She use a magic shield to protect her friends as she ran towards Dark Enchantress and use all her strength her Soul Jam can give her as the others try to stop her as the magic shield blocked their way to save her... But it was no use....

"SWEET BLEU CHOCO !!" WHAT ARE YOU DOING ?!?" "STOP THIS RIGHT NOT !!" "DON'T DO IT !!" YOU'LL GET KILLED !!" But she didn't care, as she hold a flashy light blocked their view... As they tried to save her...

"SWEET BLEU CHOCO COOKIE NOOO !!!"

Inside the light... Sweet Blue opened her eyes as she faced Dark Enchantress and infront of them both her Soul Jam was in the middle..! "Your Soul Jam is MINE !!" "NO !!!" And out of instinct she use her sword to break her Soul Jam...and Everything turned black......

This made a giant explosion who go very far from there... And from there.. Louna Cookie was still traveling on her way then the breeze was pushing her more, she turned to look behind and saw the explosion and was surprised but... felt an immense pain her her chest.... And fall on her knees and as she clunshed at it... She scream in pain... No.. NO NO NO NO !!! SHE CAN'T BE THERE !! SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE KINGDOM !! Not... there.... She cried.. she have lost everything now... Her brother, her mother... Her friends... Her kingdom... And now.... Now she lost her sister.... Who was nothing more than the pure and precious thing she had promised to protect.... "I'll revenge you... All of you... For how cruel the world had been... I'll bring Justice for you al... I promise...." As she wimp her tears away... She got up and go back on her way... Back to her last Kingdom she had been living in secret...

Years had passed, and after the sacrifice of Sweet Bleu Chocola Cookie... The kingdom had been in her lower... You couldn't stop crying at the news... You had lost her.... Your best friend and queen... But you'll keep your promes... You'll fight for her... Your name was remember just like your queen... You had kept your promes and protected the cookies in need... You wish she could have been there... As for the king... He kept on ruling the kingdom as much as he would have prefer to stay on his room and crying... He couldn't... His sister wouldn't want that... No one wouldn't want that.... As for the five Heroes... We don't know what happened to them... They disappeared after the Dark Flour War.... But... Is there even Hope ? After all had happen... ? Well let me tell you that....

Gingerbrave : AHHH GET AWAY FROM US !!

Y/n Cookie : RUN BIG BROTHER RUN !!

That yes. There IS hope...

To be... Continue~

--------------------------------------------------

WOW !!! I finally finished it !!! OMG It was hell of a work on this chapter !! But it's ALWAYS worth it when it comes to MY AU !!

Hope you LOVED It !! And don't forget to ask me in the ask Box !! Hope you enjoy !n

[juliaswritingbubble]

Tension Part 2

Summary: where Y/N and Spencer can´t deny any longer what has changed between them.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Y/N; Spencer Reid x fem!reader

A/N: There is a possibility for a part 3, let me know if you want it.

Part 1

“FBI! GET DOWN!!” I hear Hotch and sigh. Thank God. The unsub is reaching for his gun on the floor, but I am faster. I shoot upwards with my upper body, knocking him with my head. I lose my orientation and feel very lightheaded. I don’t really realize how my team arrests him. I close my eyes, feel someone loosening my ties, and hear the voices of my team. I get picked up, carried away and the next thing I know is waking up in a hospital bed.

The light is so bright; there are wires and machines attached to me.

I look around me; there is a huge bouquet on the nightstand, a glass of water, the red button to call the nurse, and my phone. I search for Spencer, but he is probably in another room as a patient. I close my eyes again as I hear Penelope's voice.

“You’re awake. Oh my god, welcome back, you sweet girl,” she says as she takes the chair next to me.

“Reid,” I just croak, and she smiles at me, taking my hand.

“He is fine; he is questioning the unsub. He should be here in the hospital, but our doctor was so furious and so pissed off that he immediately left after one night to do the questioning himself. We others were taking shifts here at your bed… Reid feels guilty for what happened,” she explains to me, and I nod, drifting away to sleep.

A few days later I am a whole lot better. I am allowed to leave the hospital. Spencer has never showed up; the others told me that he is obsessed with getting everything about the unsub. His name is Daniel Miller. Everybody was here except for him…my parents, the whole team, even the sheriff came once.

“Hey…” I freeze in my steps. His voice—I close my eyes for a split second before I turn around.

He has a plaster on his temple, but other than that he looks unharmed.

“Spence…you’re okay.” My voice is soft as I approach him slowly.

“Listen, Y/N… I'm so sorry about what happened. I know it's my fault, and I can understand if you blame me for it. I—“ I interrupt him immediately.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for what happened to us. This is not your fault. You saved my life, Spencer. You distracted him when he tried to rape me. You saved me.” My voice nearly breaks as I look into his hazel eyes. The guilt is overwhelmingly present in them.

“Don’t feel guilty. It's not your fault. You saved me,” I whisper again and place my hand on his chest.

“I was so scared that I would lose you… and I couldn’t do anything to help you.” His voice is low, his eyes locked to mine.

“You did help me, Spencer.”

“I just wish I could have taken the harm. I would have given anything to take that away from you.” A single tear is rolling down his cheek. I place my hand on his cheek and caress it with my thumb, wiping away this single tear. I know that he would have done that, but the Unsub was only interested in women; that’s why he was so fixated on me.

“I know… I know, Spence. I'm still here, and I'm fine. Thanks to you. Those cuts and bruises, they will heal… and over time, we both will heal too,” he sniffs, and I smile at him.

“We’re fine, Reid.” He nods and closes his eyes, pressing his cheek into my palm, putting his hand over mine.

“I don’t know if I will ever heal…seeing you like that.” I let my hand slide around his neck. I hug him very carefully because of the stitches and bruises on my body. He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me.

“Careful, don’t hurt yourself,” I whisper into his ear.

“I don’t care; I just want to hold you for a second,” he answers equally quietly while he presses his face in the crook of my neck. He is careful not to hurt me but nevertheless hugs me really tight.

“So, why are you here now? Don’t you have someone to question?” I ask shyly and take a small step back. We are still touching; my hands are on his arms and his on my waist.

“I couldn’t come here; I felt so guilty. And I wanted to be the one finishing this unsub after what he did to you. He confessed to every single murder and will be behind bars for the rest of his miserable life. So…the others made me pick you up.” His smile is apologetic, but I chuckle.

“I’m glad it’s you. I would have come to the police station in no time to see you and kick your ass for not picking me up. So… I don’t want to complain, but can we leave this place?”

“Sure, do you have everything? Oh stop it, give that to me.” He sounds annoyed as I pick up my bag. He practically rips it out of my hands and tosses it over his shoulder. I laugh and follow him down to the SUV.

“I’m a bit disappointed; I thought you would show me the town, and now we are only staying one more night before heading back.” I laugh, and he shoots me a grin.

“Look who is teasing me again. I can’t show you the city, but I’m sure my parents would be thrilled to host a night with the whole team,” whilst saying that I am already dialing my mom’s number.

She loves the idea. She met a few members at the hospital, so she is excited to meet the others. I invite everyone via text.

Back at the hotel we stayed in for the case, he carries my bag to my door and insists on bringing it inside.

“You got stitches all over your body; I won’t let you carry anything anytime soon. No discussion,” he says while putting the bag on the small table.

“Okay, doctor. Now go get showered and changed. We have places to be.” He smiles and shakes his head in disbelief of my commanding tone.

“That’s how you get treated after saving someone’s literal life,” he mumbles and gets out before I can hit him with the pillow.

An hour later we meet in the hallway. He is wearing a dark shirt and tie, black pants, and his Chucks. His hair is still a little damp from the shower, and when I see his glasses sitting on his nose, I swallow hard. I always had a thing for him with glasses, and I am lucky; he usually wears his contacts. He looks really good; his curls are wild, and I can see how he tried to tame them with his hands.

“Dr. Reid, you look very handsome… but may I?” I ask and step closer as he nods. I grab his tie, undo it, and stuff it in my bag. I undo one of the buttons and step on my toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Better, it’s my parents, not the chief officer.” He laughs at my words and shrugs his shoulders.

“If you say so, I trust you. You look really pretty…but may I?” He echoes me, and I chuckle, nodding. I am curious what he will do. He steps closer, not leaving my eyes with his as he leans in and presses his lips to my cheek.

“Better,” we laugh, and I inhale his amazing smell.

When we arrive at my parents house, everyone else is already there and inside. I open the door and immediately get swarmed by the team. Everybody hugs me, and after that I greet my parents.

“As I can see, you already met the rest of the team without me. Well, this is Spencer,” I introduce my favorite partner, and Mom hugs him. I can see that he is surprised, and I know that he hates it secretly. I grin to myself as I hear her say,

“Welcome, Spencer. Y/N told us so much about you. I hope you are alright.” my mom says and looks at him fondly.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he answers and smiles at her.

“Please, call me Y/mothers/N. Thank you for saving our little girl.” She starts tearing up and still looks at Spence. I see that he feels incredibly uncomfortable.

“It’s my job, Y/M/N,” he just answers. My dad steps in, introducing himself and shaking Spencer's hand. He doesn’t thank him with words, but with his gaze. Spencer, normally not really capable of understanding nonverbal communication, gets it.

Spencer joins the rest of the team at the big table while I join my parents in the kitchen.

“Honey, could you get the salad over there? And get a few bottles of wine out of the basement? Maybe you can take Spencer with you,” she suggests, winking at me, and I roll my eyes at her.

And that is how the evening goes by: laughter, food, wine, glances over the table, and some comments from everyone, but we both don't really care. It's a nice ending for such a horrible case, but I am glad that we all made it out alive.

After dinner we all take a seat on the big couch, sharing funny stories. Laughter fills the room with warmth. My eyes wander over each member of my team, my parents. Those are the people I love most, the people I care about.

When Mom starts cleaning the table, everybody starts to help, giggling and chatting in the kitchen. I exit the room to step out on the terrace, taking in the cold air of the night.

I just feel at peace right in this moment. The door opens, and I turn around to see my dad. He puts a blanket over my shoulders and rests his arm over my shoulders.

“You have a pretty awesome team in there,” he says, and I look over my shoulder. Rossi and Prentiss are probably discussing some Italian recipes. Hotch and JJ sit on the couch, talking to my mom while Derek and Penelope watch Spencer, who is performing some of his famous magic tricks.

“I have, right? They are like family,” I answer and lean my head against his shoulder.

“I’m glad you have such amazing people in your life. And there is someone who likes you particularly,” he says, and I look up at him. My father's eyes, warm and loving. I sigh.

“You think? I really like him, but I'm scared. He is so out of my league, don’t get me wrong, Dad. I know I'm smart and good at my job, but he…he's a fucking genius. You should hear him rambling off on facts and statistics; he is…extraordinary.”

“And he is very much in love with you. He never left you out of his sight the whole evening, Y/N. It's like his whole world is revolving around you, but in a good way. It's like he is protecting you at all times, absorbing your every move, but I think it's not obvious to everyone. Your team knows for sure, and we know because we have never seen anything like it. You radiate happiness around him; he makes you happy.” My dad’s voice is still soft and warm.

“He does,” I just calmly answer, watching him laugh and gesture with his hands.

“And he is not out of your league; I don’t want to hear such bullshit, honey.” He smirks at me, and I smile.

“I love you, Dad. And I miss you two.” He kisses my forehead and nods.

“We miss and love you, too. But we feel much better now, as we know your team and your connection with them.”

Spencer turns around and watches me and my dad.

“Finally, back home,” Penelope says as we exit the jet in Quantico. It's noon, and we are all happy to be back at the bullpen.

“Never mind, I’m leaving. Doing the paper shit tomorrow,” Derek says, and Emily agrees, leaving with him. JJ goes back to her office, as do Hotch and Rossi.

I grab the file of our last case in Georgetown and start working the protocol. After around two hours I finish it and flip through the pages. I grab the pictures. Pictures of all the bruises and cuts on my body and Spencer's wound on his head. I press my hand to the stitches on my upper body.

“I think it’s time to get you home, hm?” I hear Reid's soft voice behind me, and I look up. His hazel eyes are worried but warm.

“Good idea,” I agree and get up. He grabs my bag and calls for the elevator.

“Soooo, do we pick up something to eat, or are you just dropping me off?” I ask him as the door closes behind us.

“I think I’m ditching you on the food… I really need some rest, as do you,” he says, and I’m a bit disappointed but nod.

“Okay,” he looks at me and smiles, opening the door of his car for me. I slide in on the passenger's side, and he throws our bags on the back seat.

The drive is quiet until he stops at my favorite takeaway and looks at me.

“I thought…” but he shakes his head, interrupting me.

“You were disappointed, and maybe it’s not a bad idea to spend some time after what we’ve gone through.” He steps out and enters the little restaurant. I look after him, smiling.

When we get back to my apartment, he places our food on the table while I change into something more comfortable. He roams around my kitchen, opening cabinets and cupboards. I hear him and feel giddy because of his presence in my apartment.

As I undo my blouse and look at the stitches on my body, I get a flashback to the events. How Spencer stared at me, how he fought for me with his brain because he knew the Unsub was stronger. How his mind had saved us both. My fingers trace the stitches line from my neck down to my navel.

“You know…in a few weeks there will only be a faint line, a memory,” I hear his voice from the door. I look up, meeting his gaze in the mirror, still half undressed.

“I know… Lucky for me, I usually don’t get scars.” I laugh and change into my shirt.

“You don’t need to be strong—not with me. I was there, I saw everything, I know what happened.” His voice is still soft and low as I step in front of him, locking eyes with him.

“I know.” His eyes wander over my face; the expression on his face is one I have never seen before, like he dropped his mask for good.

“Good, let’s eat something.” He pulls me into the living room, sitting down on the couch. He even put up a candle on the table.

“Oh Spence, how cute.” I look at him, at how he turns red. We eat slowly and don’t talk much. While taking the dishes back to the kitchen, we nearly bump into one another. Both laughing shyly, fully aware of the tension building between us again.

His hands find my hips to hold me steady; I grab his arms for stabilization and look up into his eyes.

“Thanks,” I murmur under my breath, feeling his grip tighten on my hips.

“Do you remember a few weeks ago in front of your building? When you wanted to kiss me?” He asks, and I nod in awe of his eyes, his face, and his sheer beauty.

“I would really like to kiss you now,” he whispers, leaning down a little bit.

“Why now? You…you said it’s not a good idea,” I whisper back, resting my hands on his chest. He pulls me closer, pressing me against his body.

“Because I nearly lost you without telling you how I feel. Because I saw you being so strong to not get me too worried, because you never blamed me for anything, and I don’t care anymore if it’s right or not. I need you.” I feel his breath on my skin and see every speckle in his eyes. Green and brown, shimmery, loving, and full of desire.

“Then kiss me, you idiot doctor.” I lick my lips, and his breath hitches for a split second. His hands wander over my body, up to my shoulders, one around my neck, and the other one cups my cheek before his lips crash into mine.

The kiss is nothing like I expected it to be. Spencer, usually shy, quiet, and collected, completely falls apart as soon as our lips touch. His grip on my hair tightens, fisting my hair, and the other arm sneaks around my waist, pulling me completely against his body. I tangle my hands in his hair, gripping tight at him, pressing my lips to his. Hungry, wanting, and full of hidden desire. His lips are soft, slightly chapped though, and hungry as mine. I feel his breath against my lips when he breaks the kiss for a split second to catch some air, but then he comes back, kissing me like it is the last thing he is capable of. He groans as my nails scratch over the sensitive skin on his neck.

My hands wander over his arms; I feel the lean muscles flex under my fingers as he tightens his grip more. I lightly moan as my stitches get pressed a little too hard against his chest. He immediately takes a step back, cutting every contact we had, my hands falling to my sides, and a little disappointed noise escapes my lips. I look at him, hair messy, cheeks slightly red, his lips swollen and slightly open, and he is breathing heavily.

“You called me idiot doctor,” he pants, chuckles a little bit, and locks his eyes with mine.

“Because you are. Look how long it took you to finally make your move.” My chest is also going up and down heavily. I grab my counter for stabilization, as my legs are really shaky.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you… You know… If I was a bit too…rough with you,” he is very awkward and looks down on the wooden floor of my kitchen. I laugh, surprised and out of breath.

“Spence, I… I mean, you… I—“ I take a deep breath and laugh again, nervous this time. I can feel his hand on my arm, making me look up to his eyes.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Just take a deep breath with me.” He inhales deeply, and I do the same, calming my nerves. We just kissed in my kitchen, and it wasn't a shy or soft kiss; it was literally making out like teenagers.

“Care to watch a movie with me?” he asks, and I nod in agreement. Spencer picks out the movie; at this point I don't really care because my focus won't be on the movie anyway. We sit down next to each other on my couch, a few inches between us, not touching. I tuck my legs under a blanket and try to concentrate on the movie, but no luck. Every few minutes my eyes find Spencer's hands, the way he rubs his palms on his pants, fiddling with the fabric.

“I was wondering…if…so…do you want to cuddle up?” His voice is still soft and calm, barely loud enough for me to hear it. I look at him; he seems timid if the question is overstepping any boundaries.

“I’d like that,” I answer and smile at him. He scoots into a better position so I can take a seat between his legs and rest my back against his chest, tucking my head right under his chin. I feel him pressing his lips to my temple, and I get goosebumps running down my spine.

After some time, I lift my head up to meet his gaze. Slowly, as if he is scared to scare me away, he raises his hand to my cheek, caressing it softly.

“Can you please kiss me again? Just to make sure, I had no hallucination earlier.” He chuckles, and I feel his chest vibrating. He looks at me so lovingly; I have never seen him look at me like that before.

He doesn’t answer; he just leans down and brushes his lips lightly against mine. He is holding my cheek like a very delicate thing, kissing me very gently. I can feel his lips parting, his tongue asking for entrance, and I grant it with joy. Our tongues meet, soft and sloppy but very intense. I feel his heart under my hand, racing. He deepens the kiss even more by tangling his hand in my hair again, but this time it keeps being soft, slow, and loving. Full of emotion. With two small pecks to my lips, he moves back a few inches. I keep my eyes shut for a second before I open them.

“Still thinking it was a hallucination?” he whispers, and I shake my head.

“No… but it´s the second time today I got kissed like never before” I answer and feel him kissing me again, soft and short.

“You should be kissed like that for the rest of your life, every day.” I can’t help but tear up a little bit.

“You’re such a sweet man, Spencer Reid. I’ve never met someone like you before, and I certainly never thought I would be falling so hard for the brilliant, handsome, kind, and compassionate doctor Reid.” When his eyes turn even more gentle, I realize that I just confessed my feelings for him. I sit up straight and stammer:

“I’m sorry. I know you probably go more for the smart type of woman. I—“ He interrupts me by pulling my face to his, kissing me again and again.

“Does that feel like I am going to go after anything less than a smart, beautiful, soft soul like yours?” I can't turn my eyes away from his. But I can't talk either; I can't believe that's how Spencer sees me.

I start kissing him again, lips against lips, tongues fighting with each other, hands tugging at clothes, pulling on hair, soft moans, sloppy kisses. I try to get his cardigan off of his shoulders, tugging it down, while his hands wander under my shirt, caressing the soft skin, very carefully tracing around my wounds. He gently pushes me on my back, rolling on top of me without resting any weight on me. He trails down my neck with small kisses, making me breathe heavier; he smiles against my hot skin. I throw away his cardigan, followed by his tie. His grip on my bare skin tightens, his lips kissing mine again. I tug at the buttons on his shirt, getting him undressed, feeling his skin. I caress his chest, his stomach, and his shoulders, digging my nails slightly into his skin, making him moan against my lips.

“You like that?” I ask against his, and he smiles, kissing me again, lightly grinding his body against mine. He pushes up my shirt; I help him peel it off of my body; he grabs me, longing, passionate. He kisses his way down to my bra; his hands are everywhere but never on my wounds. As if he remembers by heart where they are. He slows down, panting heavily against my skin, while I comb my hands through his soft, brown locks. He rests his body next to mine, trying to catch his breath and calm down.

“So… back to you falling for me… How did that happen?” He whispers, kissing my cheek.

“Uhm… I have a proposal; maybe we go somewhere comfier?” I ask him and get up, trying to avoid answering the question. I climb over Spencer, straddling him on the way; he keeps me on his lap.

“Special Agent, are you inviting me to your bed?” I kind of snort-laugh and nod. I can't help it, but my hands wander over his chest again and again. His skin is so soft.

“Maybe I do… But don’t get me wrong, I am not going to sleep with you… As much as I want to feel you as close as possible, I—“ He puts his finger on my lips.

“Shush… I'm not going to sleep with you, but I would very much like to cuddle with you, feel you close, and kiss you… senseless.” I brush his hair out of his face.

“Then I really don’t know what we are still doing here.” I chuckle, get up, and pull him up. He hugs me from behind, his naked torso pressed against my bare back while I pull him further to my bedroom.

I switch on the dimmed lights; warm gold floods the mostly beige- and brown-colored room.

“Oh, I love your bedroom,” he says quietly, holding me back before I can walk in completely. He looks around at the big, comfy bed in the middle of the room, the pillows, the big painting over the bed, my bookshelf, and the huge wardrobe made nearly entirely out of a mirror. It doubles the size of the room optically, and I love it.

“It’s so cozy,” he adds and pushes me gently into the room. He spins me around, so I come crashing into him, but still everything is gentle and careful. His lips find mine again, soft and warm. I pull myself away and open the wardrobe, handing Spencer a shirt to sleep in and grabbing myself something to cover me up.

“Let me help you,” he murmurs and helps me slide into the shirt. He puts his on, opening his pants and neatly folding it away. Like he had done it a hundred times before.

“Who thought that Supervisory Special Agent doctor doctor doctor Spencer Walter Reid would one day stand in my bedroom, dressed in an old shirt of my dad, with no pants, just his boxers, hair disheveled, lips kissed red and swollen, and…” I stop and stare into his eyes; I couldn't possibly describe what I see in his eyes.

He laughs quietly, getting comfortable on my bed, and pats the place next to him.

“You do know that I have an eidetic memory, right?” he asks as I climb next to him and nod.

“Of course.”

“So then you know, I won’t forget that you still haven’t answered my question about falling in love.” I cuddle up against him and nuzzle my head into his neck. I am ashamed to answer the question, and I know I make myself vulnerable when I tell him.

“You don’t feel comfortable answering this, do you?” he asks, and I nod. “You remember the day when you walked into the bullpen for the first time three years ago?” I nod, still lying on his chest. “I do, too. I remember your shy gaze wandering over the bullpen, your blue pants, cream shirt, and how your smile lit up the whole room. I was very happy when Hotch paired us together most of the time because of our age. I enjoyed working with you from day one. And I had a soft spot for you immediately, which confused me, it was very odd for me because I usually have a hard time letting someone near me. But you just fit in effortlessly; without even trying, you just melted right into my heart. I knew you liked me too; that’s why the situation with our nearly kiss happened on your doorstep,” he rambles, a bit slower as he does at work.

“That’s not telling me when you fell for me or realized it,” I mock him, and he laughs, chest vibrating under my cheek.

“Do you remember my 30th birthday? When we were celebrating at that bar in New Orleans after we wrapped up the case?” I nod again, lifting my head up and observing him as he speaks with a soft voice. “You all forced me to drink some alcohol just to loosen me up. You were all dancing, and I was sat there with Hotch, watching you all having fun. Well, I mostly watched you, and then you came up to me, pulling me with you, and I really tried not to go with you. But you just pulled me with you, and it was fun how you showed me how to move. It was awkward for me, but I loved it. When we got back to the hotel later, you pulled me into a hug, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “

“Happy birthday, my favorite doctor. I love you so much.” I finish his sentence, still looking at him.

“I opened your present back in my room. I couldn’t believe that you actually found a first edition of my favorite book from the 1900s; that was the moment I knew I was completely in love with you. You didn’t make a fuss out of my birthday, and you certainly had the best present I ever got in my whole life. I don’t even know how you knew that it was my favorite book.” He looks at me like someone who sees his most valuable possession right in front of him. I start speaking to him:

“I can’t tell you an exact situation when I knew, but I guess the closest thing was when you were in that explosion at the sect and I really, really thought you were dead. I fell to my knees, clutching the sweater you gave me a day before. I cried while the building busted up in flames and smoke. Hotch had to hold me back; I would have run inside. I screamed and cried your name, while Hotch tried to calm me down. Then I saw you, coughing, limping, and disoriented, tumbling out of the smoke. Hotch let me go, and I came running towards you—“

“I remember, you nearly choked me whilst hugging and crying,” he laughs, and I nod.

“That was the moment I knew I couldn’t live without you and that I was more in love with you than I wanted to admit to myself.” He smiles at me.

“That was 2 years ago. You mean I could have had you and your sweet kisses 2 years ago?” He asks, and I grin, pressing my lips to his.

“Those kisses?” I whisper against his lips, and he nods.

“Those kisses, those lips, those eyes, and that smell… Even without my eidetic memory, I couldn’t ever forget all of that. How calm you make me, how excited I am to get to work every day, how I admire your logic and compassion, your humor… How you always find the right words to loosen my anxiety, calm me down, or hype me up. You are home to me, Y/N.” Now I am crying into his shirt.

“I think that’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me,” I whisper between sobs, and he pulls me close.

“Get used to it; I won’t stop telling and showing you how much I adore you, if you let me.” I look up and nod, kissing him again.

“I do let you,” he smiles against my lips and pulls me into another kiss.

Masterlist

[klaus-littlestwolf]

One of the most common requests I get is for more Viking!Klaus and I get it, I wish there was more content.

This is for all of the Viking!Klaus requests that I’ve been getting.

He had always been obsessed with her, ever since he was a small boy and he saw her in town for the first time-though the first time he ever talked to her was much more recent. He had been with his father to trade some of the kills they had made, Mikael stopping to talk to her father and leaving them waiting, standing beside each other. He tried to think of something to say, something that would impress her but instead what came out was-

‘Do you like squirrel?’ She looked up at him as he was a good 6 inches taller than her and giggled making him internally kick himself.

‘Honestly I much prefer venison, though there is not many people willing to trade such a thing and my father cannot hunt anymore.’

Niklaus knew that she was referring to her fathers hunting accident. His mother had been the one to try and heal him as best she could but he had broken his back and he never quite got back to normal. They were lucky that Y/n’s mother had only had one child and they were well off-unlike Niklaus’ family that spent all their money on food. Y/n’s mother was a miracle worker in the garden though, she could make anything grow and that’s mostly what they traded.

‘I’ll be on the lookout for a deer just for you next time I’m hunting.’ He promised, seeing her cheeks turn red in a deep blush making him feel proud that he could make.

‘That is very sweet Niklaus…I hope to see you again soon.’ She spoke, bidding him farewell before following her father home just as Mikael handed Niklaus the box of vegetables he had traded her father for.

‘She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?’ He asked his son who was staring after her dreamily and Mikael could clearly see it. ‘She will make Elijah a very agreeable wife someday.’ He spoke, stopping Niklaus’ feet from moving as all his thoughts were now full of Elijah kissing his girl, Elijah marrying her, stuffing her belly full of his babies…Then again he had a comfort in all of that which stopped his worried and frantic thoughts dead in their tracks…Elijah wanted Tatia.

He has plenty of time to change his fathers mind, especially with Elijah on his side.

It was later that same week that Niklaus awoke before the sun and went out hunting alone. It took him several hours but it was worth it to have found the deer that his girl had said was her favorite.

He got a few strange stares as he made his way through town and towards Y/n’s home where he was greeted by a smiling woman as soon as he knocked.

‘Oh dear! Erik! Please, come right in Niklaus! You must be exhausted.’ Y/n’s father came out from what he assumed was the bedroom in just his pants and Niklaus was instantly put off by how muscular Y/n’s father is. ‘Do you need help taking this to town? We could-‘

‘Oh no, please? This is a gift actually. Y/n mentioned to me that she loves venison but rarely gets to have any. I just wanted to see that she got to have what she was craving…um…okay. I should go, I just wanted to drop this off for you-I hope you enjoy it.’ With that, he was gone, quickly walking down the path back towards his home. He had just realized that if he stayed longer he would have to see Y/n and he was afraid of what she would say…did bringing her the deer seem desperate? He meant it to be sweet, not weird-

‘Niklaus!’ A deep voice called from behind him and he turned to see Y/n’s father, Erik moving as quickly as he could to catch him. ‘I just wanted to thank you. That was very kind of you, to go hunting just for my girl to have what she likes-it’s so rare that anyone trades venison. Here, I want you to have something-‘

‘Oh no, please? It really was just a gift. Y/n…she deserves to have what she likes…I just wanted her to be happy.’ Say what you will about him, Niklaus knew how to manipulate people and he knew that looking like a lovesick puppy dog would lower Erik’s defenses, believing that he was too sweet and in love to have ill intentions-which he didn’t but he didn’t know that.

‘You’re a kind boy Niklaus. Honestly I would normally insist that any boy raised by your father stay away from my Babygirl but…I like you Niklaus. You’re a good boy…why don’t you come and join us for dinner tonight. I would like to get to know you more and I believe Y/n will too-I have promised her that she will be allowed to pick her own husband from the suitors that ask for her but something tells me that you and I are going to be in each others lives for a very long time, son…I’ll see you for dinner tonight.’

‘O-Alright-Thank you!’ He called after him, barely getting any words out at all.

Later that evening Niklaus was pulling on his nice shirt, wanting to look presentable for his future wife during their first meal together. ‘Niklaus? What are you doing wearing that?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry mother. I’m having dinner with Y/n and her family. I gifted her a doe that I caught and her father demanded I come back for dinner.’ His mother looked shocked.

‘Her Father invited you? Erik Invited You?’ Mikael asked suddenly, voice angry and his eyes barely containing the fire that he wanted to spew everywhere, Niklaus was positive. There was a knock on the door just as he answered his father though no one paid attention apart from his mother who went to open it.

‘Y-Yes. He seems to approve of me. I just need to make my intentions to be her husband known to her-‘

‘I’ve told you that Elijah is to be her husband! I have already decided! A girl like that, with a father like that-that strong and wealthy, you could never be worthy of her Boy!’ It was at that moment as he said this that Niklaus actually considered whether or not he was worthy of her.

‘You’re right. I don’t believe anyone could ever be worthy of her…she is perfection-but I will try to be worthy every day that she allows me the opportunity.’

‘That was beautiful.’ A soft voice spoke, shocking Mikael into silence as everyone turned to look and see their mother with Y/n beside her. ‘It’s nice to know how you feel about not only me but your own children that you would marry them off to people that make them unhappy. I would never and will never marry Elijah-no offense Elijah, you’re just not my type-‘

‘None taken.’ He mumbled.

‘Niklaus however, I will marry…when he gets the courage to ask for my hand that is. Anyway, I came over to drop off some potatoes from my mothers garden and to walk back with you. Come on Niklaus, dinner is almost ready and my mother does not stand for lateness when it comes to a meal.’ Y/n held out her hand and he took it instantly, pulling her to his side and leading her out of the house and towards her home. ‘That really was lovely…thank you for defending me. I know how your father can be, and I know you probably shouldn’t have done it-‘

‘I will never permit anyone to speak about you that way…did you mean it?’ He asked and she looked up at him curiously. ‘That you would marry me? You would pick me over every other suitor that asks your father for your hand?’

‘You didn’t ask my father and yet you already have his permission, you want me to choose you and I like that. All the other men that would want me believe that all they need to do is ask my father-Sven has never spoken a single word to me a day in my life and he has the nerve to ask my father to betroth me to him. You had never spoken a word to me either and yet with all of your looks over the years I knew that you liked me from afar-and you still made sure to speak to me and did not ask my father. You brought me a thoughtful gift. You are a good man Niklaus and you have shown over the years that you are a strong man, a strong hunter and a strong warrior. You would make a good husband and a good father-I would choose you over any of my other suitors.’

He was stunned as they arrived to Y/n’s house and he grabbed her arm before she could walk inside. ‘In that case, before we go inside and have dinner with your parents…Y/n…You have my word that I will shelter and protect you for the rest of our lives, as well as whatever children you will give me. I love you so much, and I have for nearly all my life. I have never imagined my future and not pictured you right beside me…would you do me the honor of being my wife?’

She had tears falling from her eyes by the time he was done and he reached up with both hands to wipe the tears from her face. ‘Yes Niklaus. I would love to marry you-I will be a good wife, keep a lovely home, give you and take care of as many children as you want, cook you wonderful meals-I will take care of you as you do me, I promise you.’

Niklaus was touched by her words, the idea of being taken care of-really and truly-for the first time in his life was heart warming and he wanted to marry her right now. Niklaus leaned down and pressed his lips to hers tenderly, pulling away and enjoying her sweet blush just before the door beside them opened. Y/n’s mother rushed out, pulling Niklaus into a tight hug and startling him at how she nearly broke his ribs, she held him so tight.

‘Come in! We must begin planning the wedding immediately! We will announce it tomorrow in town to spread the word.’ Y/n’s mother pulled them both inside though as she pulled Y/n to the table, Erik took him aside and seemed happy to know that he had gotten up the courage to ask her after all-he did doubt Niklaus would be able to get the guts to ask her himself-but he was happily wrong about that.

‘Before the wedding you and I need to discuss her dowry.’ Erik told him and he was shocked by that.

‘Oh no, I don’t want that. I don’t want your money-‘

‘In that case, think of it as a gift to help you start off your life on a good note. You and Y/n can take the house a few minutes into the trees behind our place, it was my brothers place but he and his wife moved a few years ago. You may have to fix it up a bit, we’ll go and take a look at it together tomorrow.’

He was completely floored by this, not having expected anything from him, let alone this. ‘That is very generous. Thank you sir, I appreciate it very much.’

‘I can’t have you putting off the wedding until you could build something yourself-besides, it already has a second bedroom for the kids that my wife is going to expect promptly. I will give you her dowry tomorrow and you can decide what to do with it-‘

‘I will take Y/n to the house and she can decide what we need and we can go into town and get it all. Might as well spend it on the house and what she wants for it.’

‘You’re a good man Niklaus-a smart one too keeping your wife happy already. I will also be giving you a horse-don’t even start arguing. I know your family only has one and it’s your fathers, it’ll be good for you-especially when she’s pregnant, trust me, she won’t want to walk anywhere. I carried my wife everywhere over the last 2 months carrying Y/n.’ Niklaus could see he was teasing but also very much not as he led him back to the table. He had just sat down when a large fluffy red creature jumped up into Y/n’s lap.

‘What is this?’ He asked, leaning over to look at it.

‘This is Loki. He’s a mischievous little beast like his namesake, however Father let me keep him 3 years ago when he realized that he kills all the mice and rats. 3 years and we haven’t seen one mouse…he will be staying with me so get used to him now.’ She warned him and though he was a bit surprised he didn’t mind not having mice in his house-he’d been awoken to them crawling on Rebekah and Kol many times before (both of whom scream like little girls).

‘Okay, I don’t mind so long as he doesn’t bite.’ He said, reaching out slowly and letting the creature smell him before scratching behind his ears.

‘I was just telling Y/n that I kept her old crib, you can take it and you won’t have to find or make a new one.’ Y/n’s mother spoke as soon as they had finished greeting Loki.

‘Mother! Please don’t bring up children with him already!?’ She hissed at her mother but he reached out and took her hand in his own, smiling at her to put her at ease.

‘Why shouldn’t she bring it up? Personally I want to give you a child as soon as possible. You and I are going to go into town tomorrow after we visit the house and you can decide what we need for it that’s not already there.’ He told her and she looked up at him curiously.

‘Oh, I told them that they can have Ivarr’s old place. It’s pretty much furnished and we’ve kept it clean, it’s probably just the roof that will need fixed.’

‘Simple fix, I can have that done quickly, especially if I enlist Elijah’s help. You’ll be baking him a pie when we move in as payment I’m sure.’ He chuckled and he saw Y/n’s face light up in excitement.

‘We’ll go shopping tomorrow? Really?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well if we’re getting up early to go look at the house then Niklaus should probably just stay here tonight.’ Y/n suggested, looking up at her mom, practically begging and her mother smiled.

‘You’re always welcome here, Niklaus. Y/n will show you where you can sleep after dinner.’ Y/n and her mother began talking about things that they would need to get as Erik leaned over beside him.

‘If you try and back out of this marriage after you stay in my daughters bed I will hunt you, skin you, and sell you to people in town and tell them it’s pork…are we clear?’ Niklaus could only smile at that, he had no plans of backing out of the marriage but he respected Erik for his creative threat.

‘Crystal clear, sir.’

Later that night Niklaus took Y/n’s hand and allowed her to lead him into the back room that was clearly her bedroom. ‘It’s so spacious…I share a room with all of my siblings. It will be the first time I don’t sleep cramped between Rebekah and Kol-who snores like a growling grizzly bear.’ She giggled at his half joke before closing her door and pulling him towards her bed. ‘We can just sleep Y/n, I never want you to feel pressured to do anything. I will always take care of you.’ He assured her making her smile widely before she tugged him into the bed, pressing her lips to his as she untied the front of her dress.

‘I will never do anything that I’m not comfortable with, I promise. Now, I want to get started on building that family we talked about.’ She tempted, pulling her dress off her shoulders and down her back exposing her chest to him for the first time. He had seen naked women before, having gone with Elijah and Finnick to the creek and watched several different girls undress-however he had never seen breasts up close before.

‘You are beautiful my love, simply gorgeous!’ He wasted no time in yanking his shirt off and pressing her back to lay down where he finally got his lips and hands on her perfect breasts that he has been desperate for for years.

‘Oh! Oh Gods-Niklaus! Don’t stop-Please don’t stop?’ She begged but she didn’t need to, nothing on this Earth could make him stop. Eventually he pressed his lips between her breasts and down her chest and belly, pulling her dress down her legs and spreading them apart for him.

He didn’t waste a single moment before shoving his face between her thighs, her taste exploding on his tongue as her fingers tangled into his hair. He could see that her mouth was open but no sound came out as he pushed 2 fingers into her tight hole-and fuck was she tight-and hot. Just the thought of her tight, wet cunt wrapped around his cock was enough to make him cum in his pants-pants that she dragged off of him after pulling him back up to her. ‘When we’re in our own home I’m going to spend hours tasting this sweet pussy!’ He swore as she flipped them over and straddled his waist, pulling her dress the rest of the way off and pressing his cock against her wet slit and enjoying the groan that came from his throat.

‘It’s bigger than I expected.’ She admitted as she sat back and looked at his cock for the first time which he felt should have made him self conscious but Y/n never made him feel like that.

‘Really? What did you expect?’ He knew she had probably never seen a naked man in her life and he couldn’t imagine what she pictured in her head.

‘I don’t know, just…smaller I guess?’ She shrugged, reaching out and taking it into her hand and Fuck if her soft hand didn’t feel 10x better than his own.

‘It’s-ah-It’s smaller when-when I don’t have my gorgeous, naked fiancée on top of me. Fuck! Please love…fuck!’ She looked up at him, tilting her head a bit as she saw how frustrated he seemed.

‘Would you like me to suck on it?’ His jaw dropped at the question, the very idea of her putting her lips around his cock was practically enough to get him there without ever being touched.

‘I want that-Fuck! I want that so much-but right now I need to be inside you…if you’ll let me.’ She rolled her eyes, clearly believing him an idiot if he thought she would say “no” now.

‘Just be gentle the first time, yeah?’ She asked, allowing him to turn them both over, Klaus pulling her legs up around his hips and pressing his cock against her cunt-her tight heat enveloping him instantly and prompting his eyes to roll back in his head.

‘Oh fuck! I would never hurt you, Love. Not ever-oh my Gods! So fucking tight on me!’ He groaned, pulling his hips back and thrusting up into her completely.

‘Ah!’ She squealed, Niklaus freezing his movements as she did.

‘Take your time, it’s alright. I won’t move, just relax.’ He tried to help comfort her, kissing her lips sweetly before kissing up her jaw and down her neck. It seemed to work as her body began to relax against his giving him the chance to move once more though he waited, running his fingers through her hair gently until she nodded her head and he knew he could move.

‘Oh Gods, Niklaus!’ He felt like a God every time she said his name like that. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to finish, her cunt was squeezing him deliciously and it was so warm on him he briefly thought it should be burning his skin but in the best way possible.

He pulled her legs up more to give his hips more leverage to thrust down into her and as he did he could see how hard she was trying to keep quiet. ‘Can’t wait to get you to our new home, you can be as loud as you want my love! You’re gonna cum for me like a good girl, come on now precious!’ And she did just as he asked, squeezing the fuck out of his cock in a way that should have hurt with how tight she was but it felt like the most lovely vice grip there was in the world and he couldn’t have held back if he tried. He pressed his face between her breasts to suppress any noises he could make and by the time he had calmed down he could feel his soon to be wife running her fingers through his hair and humming softly. It was very soothing and he couldn’t help but think about how good of a mother she would be.

He moved up beside her and pulled her back to his chest so that he could hold her all night.

‘I still want to suck your cock for you.’ She mumbled and he growled. ‘After you fix the roof, it can be your reward.’

‘You’re trying to kill me…fuck love! Sleep now, I’ll take care of everything tomorrow.’ He promised, kissing her head and snuggling up with her in his arms as she pulled the large fur pelt over them and he had to admit, it was the warmest he’d ever felt-swearing to himself that his children would never grow up like he did-they would be warm and well fed. He would be a good father and husband-he would be everything that his father wasn’t.

‘You stayed the night…you have to tell us, come on!’ Kol insisted though Niklaus just rolled his eyes.

‘Did you stay in her bed?’ Elijah asked, less intensely than Kol did and Niklaus sighed.

‘I did, yes. She is to be my wife, we are engaged, we have a house waiting for us. Why should we not sleep in the same bed? Besides, staying with my wife gets me off of the floor and away from Kol’s snoring. She snores too but it’s a cute little snore that’s so quiet and adorable.’

‘So, you’re staying there from now on?’ He nodded his head.

‘Yes, I am going to stay with my wife from now on. Besides, her mother is very intent on having a grandchild as soon as physically possible.’

‘So you are fucking her! What was she like? Come on, every guy in this town has dreamt about fucking that pussy, you have to tell me-‘ Kol was suddenly cut off as his older brother punched him as hard as he could.

‘Don’t you ever talk about my wife like that again! Ever!’ He snapped, Kol holding his nose that was now bleeding.

‘Wow. I must say, I enjoy seeing my son in law defending my baby. Good job, Sweetheart.’ Niklaus turned to see Y/n’s mother behind them heading towards their house.

‘Thank you…where are you headed? I’ll walk with you-‘

‘Oh, come now. Don’t trouble yourself sweetheart, you just focus on fixing that roof. I’m just going to see your mother.’ He didn’t like the idea of his mother in law going to see his parents alone.

‘I’ll come with you. I don’t like the idea of you going alone, my father can be a bit condescending to women so-‘

‘Don’t worry yourself son she won’t be alone. Like I would leave one of my girls alone with your father.’ Y/n’s father joked stepping up beside her and Niklaus couldn’t help his slight smile at that. He wasn’t wrong, Niklaus wouldn’t leave Y/n alone with Mikael under any circumstances.

‘Alright. Elijah and I are going to go and fix that roof now, it shouldn’t take us long. It’s not too bad, just a few spots I want reinforced for winter. We got most everything else moved in that we needed to so it will be done before the wedding.’ He explained, her father patting his back as they continued towards his old home. ‘She offered to put her mouth on my cock.’ He spoke casually to his brothers as he picked up the wood they’d gathered and headed to the house.

‘I’m sorry…offered? As in…you said No?!’ Kol exclaimed, clearly in shock.

‘No, as in I was a bit more preoccupied in fucking my soon to be wife but I will be taking her up on it when we finish the house.’

‘You have to come back and tell me all about it.’ Elijah spoke quietly, leaving Kol out knowing he’d never be able to keep his mouth shut.

‘Of course. She’s promised you a pie for helping me with the roof, as soon as we move in. We can talk when I deliver it.’ He grinned, Elijah bumping into his little brothers side playfully. Something about getting married and experiencing these things before Elijah filled him with glee…and he knew it made both of them jealous so that was even better.

It only took a few hours for Niklaus and Elijah to finish the roof and as his brother left, he walked back to Y/n’s home and led her down the path that he had made clearer for people to find the place.

‘Wow! It looks so much better! No more holes in the roof!’ She grinned, looking up at the top of the house.

‘I reinforced most of it so that there won’t be any problems in the winter. There’s a few more things I want to do but I have plenty of time after we move in. Also…’ he took her hand and led her into the house where a table and 4 chairs sat on the far side that he’d cleaned up as well as a large comfortable chair with a footstool that he’d gotten for her from a local wood worker so she could sit up and be comfortable while she’s pregnant. He led her into the larger bedroom and presented her with a large, comfortable looking pile of blankets and furs.

‘This is amazing Niklaus! You really fixed it all up…and I do believe I made you a promise when you finished the roof…’ she didn’t need to say anything else as his cock was awake and ready almost instantly.

‘You’re going to be the death of me.’ He breathed as she pushed him back onto the furs and knelt in front of him.

‘Oh, I think we have plenty of time before that happens. Now, let’s see how long it takes to make you cum, hmm?’

‘Gods, I love you!’

The wedding went off without any problems (which knowing his father was shocking) but the party went well into the night and eventually Niklaus and Y/n abandoned it to officially move into their new home where they stayed for nearly a week before venturing out into the world again.

Niklaus kept his word to Y/n’s mother and gave her a grandson and granddaughter almost immediately-twins for her to spoil rotten-and she did just that. Her parents often kept them, turning Y/n’s old bedroom into a room for the grandkids whenever the couple needed some alone time.

They spent the rest of their lives like that, Y/n’s parents even taking care of Elijah and Tatia’s kids as if they were their own grandkids since Mikael and Esther were terrible grandparents. They were their own happy little family in the end with 5 kids and 3 nieces and nephews.

It was all as perfect as Niklaus could have ever hoped for.

Klaus M. Masterlist

[thatguywrites]

Caffeine Dates

Idk why but this picture of Shen does it for me

So here we go

John Shen x Tea Lover!Male!Reader

As you sat down in your usual seat in your usual Cafe, with your cup of tea, book, and headphones, it seemed like it was any normal day. A day that would see you stopping by the Cafe to get your daily caffeine and get through another chapter in your book.

However, this was interrupted when someone came into the Cafe and loudly asked for the most sugar filled coffee you'd ever heard of. Trying to hold your judgement to yourself as syrup after syrup was added to his order, you fought the urge to look at the sugary offender, widening your eyes at your book, and keeping your head down, but this facade was interrupted by him collapsing down into the seat next to you.

Now that he was so close, you allowed yourself a peak at him. His coffee was nearly white, as he mixed in the added sugar he grabbed as well. The man himself was quite handsome. He had a jacket on over black scrubs, where a small nametag stuck out. John Shen - Doctor.

For a moment you got lost in looking at his photo on his ID. Despite the fact that in every professional photo you'd ever been in, you'd looked like some kind of wet rat, he looked incredible. You got so lost in checking out a picture of him, that you didn't notice him turn to look at you staring at him.

"Find something interesting?"

Startled, your eyes snapped up to meet his. The picture didn't really do him justice. His face seemed to have some natural charm that lured you in, although he did have an infuriating smirk on his face. Maybe you weren't exactly subtle.

"No."

You forced yourself to look back at your book and take a drink of your tea, but you could still feel his eyes on the side of your head.

He chuckled and quickly finished off his coffee. "Well, I'll leave you to it then," as he stood up, you unconsciously relaxed your shoulders. You hadn't even noticed how tense you were. "But if you ever need anything, just give me a call, pretty boy." His arm reached over your shoulder to drop a card onto your book.

He gave you his fucking number. Good God this man was insane.

You hadn't planned on texting Dr. Shen that day, as you trudged through work and got home as usual. But when your nightly cup of tea slid out of your hand and crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces and cutting up your calves as it went, you didn't really know what else to do.

You managed to press your jacket into the largest cut to try and slow down the blood loss, but you couldn't do much else. You wouldn't be able to walk or drive to the hospital in this much pain, and lord knows the thousand plus ambulance fee would bleed you dry (haha). He was really was your only choice. Really.

When you called him a bored voice answered you, "Dr. John Shen, how may I help you?"

"Hey, um I'm the guy you gave your number too this morning? At the Cafe?"

"Oh! Hey, glad you called! How are you doing pretty boy?" His voice was much happier, and he seemed to actually be paying attention to you now.

"Well, not very good. A cup broke and cut up my legs and I was wondering if you could help cause I know-"

"Holy shit are you ok?" You could hear him grabbing things on the other end, keys and jacket and such, "No, that doesn't matter, what's your address?"

As you told him your address over the phone, you started getting really anxious about the bloor you were losing. You managed to put John on speaker phone to put pressure on another cut, but you were still losing blood from the smaller cuts. Less than ten minutes later, John was sprinting up the stairs to your apartment and plugging in the code you relayed to him over the phone.

"Hey, hey, hey, I've got you, it's ok," He began to work fast, picking you up out of the mess that made up your kitchen, and pulling out a first aid kit to begin patching up the biggest cuts. As he sewed, he kept repeating for you to take deep breaths and that you would be ok.

Once he had sewn up and bandaged your legs he managed to get you situated on your couch with pillow supports for you legs. Sitting on the floor next to you, a small, pitiful smile came across his face "How'd this happen exactly? You must have some fancy cups for them to shatter that much."

As you went through explaining your nightly routine, and it's disturbance that night, John sat, leaning against the couch, and rubbing his hand up and down your leg. Small smiles and laughs escaped him as you went on to complain about how you were now missing your nightly cup of tea.

"All this for a cup of tea, goodness"

"Well at least my tea is good for me, that coffee you got this morning is probably going to give you diabetes." You pouted and glared at him as he slowly rose to check your bandages again, "As a doctor you should probably know that"

"I assure you that as a doctor, I consume a very healthy amount of caffeine and sugar each day" He laughed as he wiped away the drying blood that covered your calves. "You seem to be missing some for the day. I'll go clean up your kitchen and make you some tea. Without breaking a cup."

Despite your protests, John simply placed a blanket over you, before making sure you wouldn't get up and possibly reopen your cuts while he was away.

"I'm not a baby, you know. I know I shouldn't exactly be walking" you called as you heard him sweeping up the ceramic that was most likely covered in your blood.

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I don't want to treat you like my baby. I gave you my number for a reason, you know"

Too flustered to speak, you stayed laying down until he returned with another cup of tea. "So, you wouldn't mind going on a date with me, Dr. Shen? Maybe one with more tea and coffee than blood next time?"

John's face broke out into a smile as he handed you your tea. "Sounds good to me, just as long as you don't judge me for the sugar that will be in my coffee."

"You mean the coffee in your sugar?"

Rolling his eyes, John picked you up yet again, following your directions to your bedroom and placing you down in the covers. "You'll have to see your regular doctor soon, make sure it doesn't get infected, and that they heal well."

"Can't you check them?"

"No matter how much I want to give in to that, that's not exactly above board, dear. I'll come back tomorrow morning to help you around. You should try to keep off your legs for the next few days. Take it easy."

"You don't want to stay? You might as well so you don't have to drive back and forth."

"I really sh-"

"Should! What if I need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?"

John smiled, reaching out to play with your hair as you smiled. "Alright, pretty boy, you'd better scoot over then."

Taglist: (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ghostking4m

[lenaswritingandstuff]

You're my home • Harry Potter x fem!reader

Requested: Yes ("Hii! I was wondering if you could do a fic where reader is dating Harry and she is introducing him to her parents, who she didn’t know were best friends with Lilly and James and they are so happy that she has brought Harry back into their lives and show him a bunch of their memories with his parents and he feels very welcome in her home and stays there every summer from there on" - Anon)

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

Summary: After a horrible detention with Umbridge, y/n invites Harry to meet her parents, and he realized y/n is his home.

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: mentions of parents (cause I know how traumatic it can be), fluff (cause I can't write anything else), English is not my first language

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I'm so, so sorry it took so long for me to write it, but Uni (aka my personal hell on Earth) basically destroyed my mental health, and I lost all motivation to write lol. I hope you like it! ^^

[y/f/n= your father's name]

Today had already not been a particularly good one - and it was only the second day of the school year. The classes had seemed to take forever, the teachers had all decided to not be interesting, you couldn’t seem to focus on anything they said and the rain had decided to be there, too. As you walked towards the Gryffindor common room, the only thing that you wanted was to cuddle with your boyfriend. When you came in, you immediately saw Harry and his best friends sitting on one of the sofas. 

“Hey,” you walked closer in their direction.

“Hi, y/n.”

Harry gestured for you to sit beside him, and once you did, he gave you a quick kiss. And just like every time he kissed you, you felt butterflies in your stomach - which you used to think people lied about until he kissed you the year before at the Yule ball. 

“Had a good day?” Hermione asked. 

“Boring, and very long,” you sighed. “You guys?”

“Average,” Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Harry got detention.” 

“What?” you turned to Harry. “Why?”

“Well,” Ron said, “we had class with Umbridge, and she said that Harry lied about you-know-him’s return.”

I see.

You nodded, immediately understanding what followed. 

“And I imagine you said she was wrong, then she insisted that you were lying, and so on and so forth until she gave you detention,” you told Harry. 

“I had to defend myself,” Harry answered. “And she said Cedric’s death was an ‘accident’”. 

You let out a silent sigh, and took Harry’s hand in yours. You couldn’t really blame him, and understood that he had to defend himself when people - and there were a lot of them - accused him of lying, but you still didn’t want him to be in trouble. 

“Can’t Dumbledore do something?” you asked. “He knows you’re telling the truth.” 

“I’d rather not ask,” Harry said. 

His tone signified he wouldn’t change his mind, so you didn’t insist. You put your head on his shoulder, and he kissed your forehead. Still holding his hand, you felt his body relax a little.

“When is your detention supposed to be?” you asked him. 

“Every night of the week starting tomorrow.”

“Merlin’s beard.”

*-*-*-*

After that conversation, you wanted to help Harry relax, so you two went to the lake and cuddled there until dinner. He asked about your day - you were one year below him - and he told you about how McGonagall actually took his side when he was sent to her office, and even offered him biscuits. When you guys, Harry felt better, and you hoped it was the only time he would get in trouble this year. 

The next day, you went to Honeydukes to get Harry’s favorite sweets, and then waited for him to come out of Umbridge’s office. Ginny, one of your best friends, sat with you for a while. At some point, Hermione and Ron came to give you some food from the kitchen - as you had skipped dinner so that you could wait for Harry. After a few hours, he finally came out. He seemed a little bit pale, but still offered a small smile when he saw you. You kissed him and, as you often did, admired how handsome he was. 

“How was it?” you asked. 

“Not bad. I had to write…lines.”

“Oh, thank Merlin. I was worried she’d make you do something horrible. Here, Ron and Hermione brought you this from the kitchen” you said, handing him the sweets. “And I brought this from Honeydukes. To lift up your spirits.”

“Thanks, love.”

He reached out a hand to take them, and all of a sudden, you saw something red on his hand. 

“What’s this?” you frowned.

“What?”

He immediately put the sweets in the pockets of his robe, and kept his hand there.

“Your hand. It seemed red.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Harry, please. Let me see.”

As you had seen it, there was a red area, like a scar, on his hand. 

“How did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I probably bumped into something.”

You nodded. “It’ll probably heal up quickly.’ 

“You’re right. Say, love, can we just go to the common room to eat all of this?” he said quickly. “I’m starving.”

“Of course, darling.”

But you couldn’t have been more wrong. The next day - where you had class with Umbridge for the first time and she kept looking at you weirdly - and those that followed, you waited for Harry to come out of her office. After the third day, you had tried to take his hand, but he immediately pulled away, as if he had been stung.

“Are you alright?” you asked, now worried.

“Yes.”

“Is it your hand? Did the redness get worse?”

“No, it’s…” 

He sighed, and showed you his hand. You gently took it to take a better look, and gasped.

I must not tell lies.

“Oh my God, Harry! How is…What happened?!”

“It’s nothing,” he said. 

“Yes, it is!” you frantically exclaimed, both furious and confused on why Harry wasn’t furious as well. “Harry, she can’t do that! We must not let her get away with it! We need to tell McGonagall and Dumbledore immediately.” 

“No,” he retorted. “That’s exactly what Umbridge wants. I won’t give her the satisfaction.”

“But, Harry-”

“y/n, please. I just want to go to dinner.” 

“Very well,” you said. 

Before entering the Great Hall, Harry made you promise to not tell Ron or Hermione, and you half-heartedly did. 

The next weeks that followed, things didn’t get any better. People constantly whispered mean things about Harry, and Umbridge basically gave him detention every time he was in class with her - and she also gave you one for a week after, sick of her lies and her false nice manners, you spoke up to defend him. 

“y/n, you can’t get in trouble because of me,” he had said when you told him. “Whatever she says, whatever she does, do not talk back. I can’t…I can’t have her hurt you, okay?”

You agreed, and he held you tightly. 

During your detention, you had to write “I must not listen to lies”, and the scar on your hand that it provoked got worse at every detention, just like Harry’s. He waited for you every night, just like you had waited for him, and each time he was more horrified, and held you tight for hours after. 

However, school break was coming soon, and you had an idea. Though your parents knew about you and Harry dating - and approved -, they had never met him, and you thought it would do him some good to leave Hogwarts for a while. You wrote to your parents to ask if Harry could come with you to your childhood house, and they said yes. The day after you got their answer, you found Harry waiting for you in the common room.

“Hi, darling.” 

“Hi, love.” You gave him a kiss. “I have something to tell you about.”

“What’s that?”

“My parents wrote to me, and said you’d be more than welcome to spend the holidays at my house. If you’d like. You don’t have to, of course,” you quickly added, “I’d understand if you’d prefer going to the Burrow-”

“Pretty girl, I’d love to meet your parents. Tell them I’m looking forward to it.”

“I will.”

And, so when school break started, you both used a chimney to go to your house. Your parents held you warmly, and it felt good to be home. They greeted Harry just as warmly, and even though he was a bit shy, it was obvious he was happy to be here. 

“Merlin, you really do look very much like James,” your father told Harry as he stared at him.

“Dad!” you protested. “Harry is tired of hearing this.”

“You knew my father?” Harry frowned.

“Yes,” your father nodded. “James and I both were in the same year, in Gryffindor. And, I have to say, we were close friends.” 

“And Lily was my best friend,” your mother added. “She was like a sister to me. y/f/n and I went to their wedding, and often visited him in Godric’s Hollow before the war. And we saw you several times as a baby, Harry.” 

“We were devastated when we learned of their deaths,” your father continued. “And we always hoped you were alright, wherever you were.”

“And we’re so happy to see you again, and that you’re dating our y/n.”  

You knew your parents were in the same year as Harry’s parents but you had no idea they were that close.

“I have a few photos from that time,” your father told Harry, “Would you like to see them, my boy?”

Harry nodded, “Yes, sir, I’d like to.”

Your father fetched the photo album while your mother made tea for everyone. You all sat on the sofa, and looked at the pictures as your parents shared some memories and the context of each of the pictures. You took several glances at Harry, and you knew how much it meant to him to see those pictures and to know more about his parents - and especially their years at Hogwarts. After the last picture was shown, Harry thanked your parents, and your father gave him some of the pictures. 

The rest of the day was spent playing Quidditch with Harry in the garden, and he smiled for the first time since the beginning of school year. You then showed him your bedroom and had dinner with your parents, who asked about how you and Harry did at Hogwarts. 

“Umbridge isn’t a good teacher,” you said. “But it’s fine otherwise.” 

You turned to Harry, who remained silent. You had agreed to not tell your parents what that woman did to you in order to not worry them. 

The rest of the school break was nothing but perfect. You absolutely loved being with Harry everyday - sometimes alone with him as your parents both worked -, being able to cuddle whenever you wanted, and to make things even more perfect, Harry got along really well with your parents, and seemed to really enjoy his stay. You were now cuddling in your bedroom, your head on his chest, both his arms wrapped around you and your injured hand on the side of his neck, its thumb stroking it tenderly. You turned your face to look at him, and caught him looking at the scar on your hand. After your detention with Umbridge, Harry had insisted on Hermione making a potion that would heal the wound faster and make the pain disappear every day until it was fully healed, and you knew that, even over a month later, he still felt guilty. 

 “I’m okay, Harry. I promise. Please, don’t feel guilty.”

There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” he said softly. “Not only for believing in me but also for never giving up on me.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll always be by your side, Harry. No matter what happens, no matter who we’re facing. Because I don’t want to be anywhere else, and because I love you. Not because you’re the ‘Boy who Lived’, but because you’re kind, brave, loyal, loving, and funny.”

He had a soft laugh before looking at you in a way he had never done before. 

“I love you too, y/n,” he whispered. “More than anything.”

He brought you closer, put one of his hands on your cheek, and lowered his head to kiss you.

*-*-*-*

Ten months later

“Harry, dear, what kind of cake would you like for your birthday?” your mother asked.

Both you and Harry were in the garden, with you sitting on the grass and his head on your lap. After the school year’s end, Harry had asked to come to your house instead of going back to the Dursleys. Dumbledore said Harry still needed to go there for a bit, as he was protected there, and then he could come to your parents’ house and spend the whole summer there - though both you and him visited the Burrow and stayed there several days. Harry’s birthday was tomorrow, and you couldn’t wait for him to see all the gifts you had for him.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Mrs. y/l/n,” Harry answered. “You don’t have to do anything, really.”

“It’s no trouble, dear”, your mother reassured, “y/n told me you liked chocolate, I could make a chocolate cake, if you want?”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

“Of course, dear.” 

“Excited for tomorrow?” you asked him while gently stroking his jet black hair. 

“Not that I know there might be a chocolate cake, yes,” Harry answered.

You laughed and he had a smile.

“I’m very happy you’re here, Harry,” you said in a confessing tone. 

He raised his head from your lap but kept his head close to yours.

“I’m happy to be there, too. And I’m very thankful to your parents for making me feel at home, and to you, for simply being you. You’re my home, y/n. I love you, and I always will.”

You lowered your head to kiss him, and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I love you, too.”

And you knew you would love him until the end.  

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Masterlist

[thetvtrovess]

I find it interesting the way the fan base views Claire, but what is even more interesting is the justifications created for their hatred. If you don’t like a character, you don’t need a reason necessarily. You can just find them annoying and that’s a valid opinion. Where I start to take issue is when fans try to make justifications that just don’t make sense.

For example, on my TikTok (which is “The TV Trove” on TT), I made a joking video which is as follows

(11x12 scene)

Dean: I’ll put Sammy on it, he’s better with the whole talking thing anyways”

(12x16 scene)

Claire: Stop treating me like a stupid kid!

Sam: Then stop acting like one!

It was purely made as a joke because as someone that will adamantly defend Claire, I still find it funny when Dean or Sam match her sneakiness.

Someone who clearly doesn’t like Claire commented and this is a direct quote

“Yep. And people who try to say that she’s Dean? Haha no. Dean had respect for certain authority figures, and he also wasn’t talking back to people who had more experience than him.”

Have you met Dean? Have you watched the show? I’ll give you credit for saying “certain” authority figures, but even that might be generous. But if we’re going to entertain the idea that Claire and Dean are nothing alike, I feel it is only fair that we make it an even comparison since a girl in her late teens is obviously not going to handle situations the same as a man in his late 30’s.

So let’s compare what we know of Dean as a teenager to what we see of Claire at a similar age. And I’m sorry to say, he is arguably just as bad, if not worse than Claire. When Claire was hauled into the group home by an officer, she resorts to sarcastic and snarky comments but she is not fighting him physically aside from digging her heels in a few times. Compare that to a 16 year old Dean in 9x7 who gave the officer a black eye and continued to instigate until Sonny intervened. But Dean absolutely did not care about authority even as a teenager, I don’t think he even respected Sonny’s initially. Sonny was just someone he got dumped off with so they, whether it be John or the officer, didn’t have to deal with him. And it wasn’t until Sonny gave him stability and a chance at just being a 16 year old that he started to appreciate his life there.

I’m going to be bold and say Dean and Claire’s childhood were not that far apart. Both lived a normal childhood until a supernatural being entered their life, taking away one parent, and leaving the remaining one chasing after a ghost. I think the only key difference is that Dean always had someone, even if it wasn’t normal or stable. He intermittently had John, or Bobby, or Caleb, or even just Sam himself. He was never “alone”. But in Claire’s case, she didn’t have anyone to fall back on. She was truly left alone and passed around group and foster homes. Yes, you could argue that she wasn’t helping her situation by being difficult but I think that comes with the territory of a child not having anything stable left in their life. So when Dustin came along, he was someone. She had someone to attach herself to. Which then led her to Randy, an adult that gave her the sense of stability and showed her love when she had none.

It’s obvious to Sam and Dean and us as the viewers that Randy is using her and the connection is superficial but it makes complete sense why Claire doesn’t see it. Because in her perspective, Randy is the only constant parental figure she has known following her grandma’s death. So of course she’s going to want to help him and feel obligated to, because he already helped her. He was there for her when she needed him so she’s going to do the same. And after watching her dad being ripped away twice, and then her mother leaving, and then losing her grandma, she’s going to be desperate to protect the one she has now. And Randy knew that. He knew exactly how to frame the situation and manipulate it to what he wants. And it’s made worse by the fact that Salinger, a literal predator and loan shark, recognized those tactics.

I feel like I’m slowly losing my original point and this is already longer than I was planning so I’ll just let this be where it stands. We both know this won’t be the last time I make a long winded post defending Claire.

[soft-pine]

spn20rewatch 4.06: yellow fever

this episode is so fucking sad. i remember when i was first watching supernatural and it nearly destroyed me to see dean, just back from hell, terrified and anxious and, as he says, with his "head on the chopping block, again." the you're dying... again... loser scene is so viscerally SAD! (also the deleted scene with audio over that part. help help help!)

and i'm not usually one to comment on this stuff but like... so much of dean's fear and distress in this episode is played for laughs.... why is it played for laughs?

he's been back from hell for, what, a few weeks (resurrected on sep 18, 4.05 is oktoberfest, 4.07 is halloween) and he's been struggling with emotional regulation the whole time. this episode is where we really see how much dean is relying on alcohol to manage.

cause he's really, really, really scared of going back. this drives home that dean "always am" (15.16) winchester was always under there. he expresses so much fear here - not only about this case but about their whole lives, everything he has been experiencing. he's voicing thoughts that clearly predate the ghost sickness. he really is always kinda scared and always putting on a show and/or powering through it. but here he's too lost and it's too loud for him to mask it fully. he flees frantically from a small dog (dean's hellhound trauma ow ow ow); he grabs for and clings to a bible; he wiggles evocatively and terribly out of lillith's arms. and still he manages the decency of using a blanket to cover the body of the sheriff who came to kill him. and he tries to help with the case even as he's falling apart; he mans the flashlight.

but this whole experience is so effecting and undoing to him that over ten years later, he describes it to lee as one of the most memorable?/worst?/superlative in some way cases he ever worked (15.07):

DEAN: Ghost sickness. LEE: Ghost sickness? DEAN: Ghost sickness. Man, it was no fun. Everything was scary. This cat jumped out at me, had me checking my pants. I'm not joking. It was awful, man. Whew!

i do have to say i kinda breaks my heart to see how harsh sam is with him (sam having limited patience for dean's vulnerabilities dates back to 1.04 and is extremely present here and in 12.11). and it kinda breaks my heart how much the conversation at the end of the episode with sam and bobby is an exercise in dean having to layer all his masks (and masculinity) back on.

SAM: Yeah. How you feeling, by the way? DEAN: Fine. BOBBY: You sure, Dean? 'Cause this line of work can get awful scary. DEAN: I'm fine. You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything. BOBBY: Awwww, he's adorable. I got to get out of here. You boys drive safe.

if we're doing a layersnatural reading, we will notice he's only wearing on layer of clothing in that scene; his vulnerabilities are right on the surface.

i feel like a lot of words have already been spent talking about why the ghost goes after dean in the first place; his job means he's inherently often scaring people even when he doesn't want to, it's reacting to him torturing souls in hell, maybe he really is just a dick (he's not). but to me it seems likely that the ghost is latching onto feelings of guilt in those it targets. dean's feeling throughout this season (this show, his life...) is that he deserves punishment for the things he holds himself (overly) responsible for. is it any wonder that ghost looking for vengeance latches onto that?

anyway, liddol :C