#there are still posts queued up already... i think... so no actual pause after... maybe... but ye

[press-f1-to-grieve]

the trophies for the 2024 dutch gp are funny looking, but now that i could make out the words on them, the more i read, the more my heart sank.

it applies to all of them, to varying degrees, sure, but still.

so many sacrifices were made, are being made, for their dream to become reality, to be the best of the best, to rise above all. i have so much respect and admiration for that, but also so saddened by it, thinking of all the things they lost and had to overcome. things i could never have done, had failed in trying, and wouldn't ask of anyone, yet they went through it all. they all paid the cost.

---

update: i'm back and i thought about it some more while i was gone. if i don't write it all down, it will nag at me in the back of my mind. i thought about whether i wanna reblog or update this post and i'm feeling an update so here goes

there's something about seeing the drivers holding a trophy with these words written on them.

like, these are all concepts we are aware of, that they themselves are aware of. once again, it's the cost of making their dream a reality. they know what they are getting into, we know what they are getting into. yet… for them to be laid out like this, as a tangible object in these drivers' arm…

when i look at max, charles and lando holding the trophy high above their head, sun shining upon them radiantly as a sea of people cheer together in celebration of their achievement, i see it as the three of them triumphantly screaming "look at what i have overcame!".

when they cradle it in their arm, i see it as them nursing invisible wounds. physical, mental, and emotional wounds that they have collected over the years, some they got from when they were still so young, tiny little kids barely reaching their adult selves' waist, yet still ache til this day, because those wounds never truly healed, because it never really got a chance to, because it's an ongoing battle.

there's also the reality of knowing they are raising those trophies high today in victory, but comes morning, and the process repeats.

like i said previously, it applies to all of them, not just max, charles, and lando. anybody else on the grid could be on that podium today holding the trophy, and these thoughts would probably still gonna enter my head. it's inspiring and humbling. it was a sobering experience.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader.  The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think.  Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP!   BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP!  BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms.  Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out.  Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift.  But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters.  As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent.  It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills. 

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off.  Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed.  “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.”  I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space.  It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures.  Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together.  Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting.  She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief.  Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order.  First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix.  Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the  Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space. 

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels.  Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone.  “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component.  The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is.  Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily.  Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something.  I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion.  The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom.  Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it.  Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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[mx-barnes]

Soulmate AU Pt.7

Summary: When you turn 18 you get the name of a song on your wrist. That is the song you and your soulmate share. It is also how you can communicate with them.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: swearing, implied smut (I suck at writing smut so this is for the best), talk of abduction, a little bit of Bucky's trauma, pet names, Sad!Bucky, think that's it.

A/n:Sorry that this chapter is so short I am camping this week and wanted you guys to have a new part out. So I finished this before camping, I'll be logging off for the week I have a few things queued but not much. Sorry I will be back next week with my regularly scheduled post. Not edited, Charaters not my own (Marvel don't sue me) Gif not my own.

Chapter 6 Masterlist

The next morning you woke up to find James still in bed with you. You figured he’d already be up but apparently he wasn’t a morning person either. Last night was amazing you had shown him where you grew up. He seemed so entranced by everything. Maybe it was the fact that you were talking a mile a minute or he was just happy to be there with you.

Honestly, he seemed like a great guy. He hadn’t pushed you into anything last night which you know from your own shitty experiences can happen. Most of the men and women you dated tended to have an expectancy. That if you were laying down in their bed or even laying down in your bed that something was going to happen. But James didn’t seem to be like that. You were grateful.

Yes, you were soulmates. Yes, you were “made for each other” but you wanted to take it slow until you couldn’t handle slow anymore. You wanted to build a relationship first not just jump straight in. He may be your soulmate but you’ve heard of instances where soulmates moved too fast and ended up hating each other. You didn’t want that. You want a best friend, someone you could depend on.

You felt the figure stir beside you pulling you out of your thoughts. “Mornin’ doll. You sleep well?” His morning voice was beautiful. It was just the right amount of gravely to the deep tone. This man had you just swooning at his voice.

“Ya I slept great what about you handsome?” You said placing a hand on his shoulder as you snuggled closer to him.

“It was one of the best sleeps I’ve had in a while. So,” he paused looking down and chewing on his bottom lip. “My arm.”

“What do you mean your arm?” you pulled back to look at him.

“It’s- well it's metal,” he stuttered. Scared that you would reject him. Push him away maybe if you hadn’t already connected the dots. See that he was a terrible person.

“So. Listen, James,” the way you said his name made butterflies rupture in his stomach. “I can’t change it. I know about your past but everyone is so much more than their past. If we lived in the past we wouldn’t go anywhere. So as long as you don’t judge me on my past I won’t judge you on yours. We all have a story but each day we have a blank page. That story may be filled with unknown horrors but the fact that you are here and can share those horrors if you so choose is proof enough that you are a strong and capable man.”

"But if you know my past you know I killed hundreds. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone better. Someone who is broken. Some who can gi-"

"Stop. If the universe put us together it must have a reason. It must have a reason and this is not me rationalizing this. I want to be with you. You were brainwashed those terrible acts the other guy did was not your fault. You are enough for me. You are more than enough for me. Last night you followed me around my childhood home where I talked a mile a minute and you were probably bored out of your mind but you sat and listened. I talk too much, I ramble but you sat and listened to me. Listen James I know your past from the media, but I want to know your past. I want to get to know the real you. Not the one the media portrays, not the one you probably put on when you go to your therapist, the real you,” you rambled on.

His arms jut out to grab your face. Grabbing it he pulls you close you instinctively close your eyes then he hesitates you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face as he asks “Can I kiss you?”

You open your eyes. Stare into his beautiful blues for a second almost getting lost in them but manage to answer him. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

After hearing your response his face lightens you ca. See the glint in his eyes as he once again pulls you close and kisses you. Your eyes flutter shut. The kiss is soft. His lips are dry and cracked a bit but you don’t mind. It's sweet and way too short for your liking. When he pulls away you allow him and yourself to have a breath before you pull him once again.

He chuckles into the kiss. He pulls away once again and you whine. “We gotta get up doll. ‘M gonna make you the very best breakfast,” he gets up and starts to pull a shirt on. You didn’t even realize he was shirtless.

Pouting you quip “The best breakfast you could give me is if you stay in bed.”

That seems to pique his interest as he dives right back into the covers and begins kissing you once again. Let’s just say you and him had a full meal.

<~>

You must have fallen asleep again because by the time you looked over at the alarm clock it was 2 hours later.

Scrambling to get your things for work you manage to wake up James. He looks at you with such love in his eyes. “Mornin’ doll.”

It wasn’t fair how good he looked or sounded. He looked as he had been plucked from the gardens of heaven. His voice was melodic. It was drawing you back in. "Morning sorry I have to get to work I've missed the past couple of days and it's not like my boss is unreasonable but she does need her assistant. I am really sorry to just run out on you but I will be back I promise. I'll leave my number on the counter," quickly crossing the room to give him a quick cheek kiss. You ran out of the room a little disheveled but looking fairly decent. You scribbled down your number on an empty piece of paper. By the time you actually left you looked down to your watch and it was 8:30 AM.

<~>

By the time you actually got to Stark Industries, it was 9:45 AM your shift started at 9:00 sharp. Immediately you went to Peppers office. You knocked on the door hoping that she wasn't in a meeting. "Come in."

"Pepper I'm so sorry for not being here for the past couple of days. I was abducted and then I was with my soulmate and I overslept. I'm so sorry," you ramble on.

"It's ok. Wait you were abducted? By who?" Pepper almost scolds. Her face softens as she takes in the last bit of your sentence. "So you spent the night at your soulmate's house. That must've been fun. What's their name?" She questions.

"Well, his name is James Barnes. Don go off on how he's the Winter Soldier. I know he is and it's fine that wasn't him. I know I just met him but I think I'm already falling in love. He's not like any other person I've been with. Not Killian, not Amanda, not Jade, and definitely not Dawson. He's just different but a good different you know?"

"I know I can see that he makes you happy. That smile hasn't left your face since you came in here."

You hadn't even realized you were smiling. This was something that you had experience before sure your other partners made you happy but this has been a long time coming, to find that ethereal happiness.

Chapter 8

Taglist:

@oceanmermaidwitch @navs-bhat

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Forever

A Very Rogers Christmas.

Part 1- The Best Things In Life Are Tree.

Summary: It’s that time of year again and the Rogers family prepare to go and pick their Christmas tree. But when Emmy calls with a bit of bad news, it puts a little downer on the whole thing for Katie and Steve decides to call in reinforcements to pull off the best Christmas Heist he can…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So here we go, Part 1 of my Stark Spangled 2020 Christmas special- A Very Rogers Christmas.  This one was written for for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @sagechanoafterdark​ ‘s Winter/Holiday Challenge. My prompt- Finding the PERFECT Tree.

It feels like AGES since I wrote for my babies so I hope you enjoy this little three parter. Part 2 posting next Friday, and part 3 on Christmas Eve.

SSF Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist 

"Daddy, I found something else I want to ask Santa for, for Christmas." Rori bounced into the study and Steve closed his eyes on the papers he was trying to grade and sighed.

"I bet you have." He mumbled before he glanced up at his daughter and couldn't help but smile at her as she skipped over to him, her long pony tail swinging behind her "What is it, Princess?" "A capybara." she said, scrambling up onto his lap. "A what?" Steve frowned. "A capybara. Look!" she turned the tablet she was holding towards him to show him a picture of the brown animal "They're like huge guinea pigs. I saw one at the zoo with Uncle Buck yesterday and when I said I wanted one he told me to tell you that I was gonna ask Santa." "Course he did." Steve sighed, mentally cursing his asshole best friend. "You know, Rori, don't think Santa can get you one of those." "Why not?" "It’s too big." He attempted “There’s nowhere for us to keep it.” "Our garden is huge!" Rori blinked at him. "And when Emmy and Petey move into the Tower he can live in the cabin." Trust her to be as damned smart as her mother. "They're wild animals honey." Steve shook his head as he tried attempt number two. "But they live in a zoo." Rori looked up at him, her face full of eager excitement “That’s not the wild.” "Yeah but that’s different." Steve reasoned patiently. "They're not like dogs or cats or regular guinea pigs. They need very special care.” "Oh." Rori looked down a little, her shoulders slumping and Steve sighed.

Fuck you, Bucky.

"Okay. Never mind." She clicked off the screen of her tablet and turned towards Steve, looking up at him with those damned green eyes. "Do you think he could get me a kitty instead?"

No, just say no… "Maybe."

Way to go, Rogers. Rori's eyes lit up and Steve inwardly groaned. It was a well-known fact in their house that whenever Dad said maybe, it meant yes. Fuck.

“I love you Daddy!” she beamed, reaching up to press a kiss to his bearded cheek before she hopped off his lap and skipped towards the door “Oh, me and momma are going to make gingerbread men for tomorrow so we can have them when we decorate the tree.”

“Can’t wait baby.” He smiled

“Are you gonna be working tomorrow afternoon?” she asked a little shyly and he shook his head.

“No, I promise.”  He assured her. “All day tomorrow is family day.”

She gave him another huge smile, one that truly warmed his entire being as it made her look even more like his wife, and then headed out of the room, her feet pattering on the tiles of the hallway as she skipped back into the other part of the house. Steve exhaled and looked back down at the paper, groaning as he realised he’d lost his place. He’d been home early that afternoon hoping for more peace and quiet than he got in his office at the University to concentrate on getting through all these and for the most it had worked, until Jamie and Rori had arrived home from school full of it as usual. Katie had kept them out of his way for the most but the realisation that Christmas was well on the way had hit the eldest two and whipped them up into a fever.

Not that Steve particularly cared. He adored this time of year. It was Katie’s holiday and from the day after Thanksgiving the Christmas period started in full throttle in the Rogers household, and they’d picked tomorrow, 2 weeks before the schools broke up, to go and pick the trees for their lounge and hallway. He was a little disappointed that it hadn’t snowed yet, there had been a good covering the previous year but, still it was set to be a cold and dry day so they could still get bundled up and have their hot chocolate and snacks as usual.

He rubbed at his eyes and focussed, reading through the paper in front of him on the ‘Strategy, Diplomacy and politics of Axis and Allied forces in WW2’, wishing to God he was marking something on the course he was actually employed to teach now- Fine Arts- but all those had been done and graded last week. This was the module of History that he taught, because as the Uni said- he was a living, breathing expert.

Aparently.

An hour or so later he finished red-penning the final six paged essay, with a proud smile as that one had been particularly good and he quickly checked it over once more, making sure he’d captured all the notes on the electronic copy and queued it up to send on Monday, just like Katie had shown him how to, so that each student had the hard copy and soft copy back. He stood up, stretched, turned off his laptop and headed through to the main area of the house, the smell of baking and cooking hitting his nostrils as he went.

He walked into the kitchen to find Rori kneeling on one of the tall stools over the island-slash-breakfast bar, her hands and face smeared in pink icing as she decorated a gingerbread man, her little tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration. Katie was stood supervising Harry who was also covered in frosting, this one bright green. Flossie sat in the highchair opposite, banging a spoon on the tray occasionally letting out a yell or babble of something incoherent. As soon as she saw Steve she gave a huge grin and her shouts became louder and he smiled.

“Hi Floss-Floss!” he beamed, crossing to drop a kiss to her head before he looked across at Katie “Where’s Jamie?”

“Upstairs in his room.” Katie gave a little sigh “He said, and I quote, ‘I’m ten now, far too old to decorate gingerbread, mom.’ I could have cried there and then Steve.” She finished with a pout.

Steve gave her a sympathetic smile, the fact her eldest baby boy was growing up was something he knew she hated “Yeah, I bet he won’t be too old to eat them, though.” He appeased and she smiled.

“That’s what I said.” Rori gave a dramatic roll of her eyes and Steve chuckled.

“You finished Grading?” Katie asked as she gently guided Harry’s hand over the cookie shaped like a Christmas tree.

“Yeah, all done. Sorry it took so long.”

“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, smiling “Your dinner is in the oven. I already ate with the kids. Sorry, I was starving.”

“I didn’t expect you to wait.”  Steve walked over the room and dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

He made his way over to the Aga stove and opened the door, giving a little groan when he saw she’d done his favourite, a Mac and Cheese bake laced with chicken, chorizo and broccoli. He turned to look at her and didn’t miss the flicker of a smile on her face as she knew what he was thinking, before he pulled out the plate giving a yell as it burnt his fingers, dropping it onto the side with a clatter.

“Careful daddy, hot!” Harry turned to face him, and Katie burst out laughing.

“Yeah, thanks Son.” Steve tried not to roll his eyes as he sucked his thumb. Grabbing a tea-towel he gripped the plate, found some cutlery and sat down at the table to the side of the kitchen, tucking in.

“I finished all mine, Momma.” Rori grinned, placing the tube of squeezy frosting down on the side. Steve watched as Katie moved to look over Rori’s shoulder.

“Good job sweetie.” She smiled, “Creative, I’ve never seen a pink cat before.”

Steve paused and looked at Rori as she grinned “I know they’re not really pink, and my kitty won’t be, but it can have a pink collar.”

At that he winced and hastily shoved another forkful of food into his mouth, praying that the conversation stopped there.

Katie sighed “Rori we’ve been over this, you can’t have a cat.”

“Daddy said I could.”

Shit.

Katie’s eyes shot to Steve and he gave her his best innocent look, but from the way her features grew stern he knew he was utterly busted and he swallowed the food in his mouth which turned to cement in his throat.

“No, that’s not what I said.” Steve shook his head.

“You said maybe.” Rori shrugged “Same thing.”

“We getting a kitty?” Harry asked, looking at Katie.

“No.” she shook her head.

“But I asked Daddy if Santa would bring me one and he said maybe.” Rori looked at Katie.

“Well Daddy is wrong.” She glared at Steve and he visibly shrank in his seat. Katie’s green eyes narrowed before they turned back to Rori. “Santa can’t bring live animals. It’s in the rules.”

“What rules?”

“The Christmas Rules” Katie said quickly “No live animals. It’s not fair on them. They don’t like the sleigh.”

“But…”

“No buts Rori.” Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose “I’m sorry honey, but it’s not gonna happen.”

Rori pouted a little but she knew when she was beat and glanced down at the cookies on the tray before she looked up, grinning smugly. “I’ll just ask Uncle Bucky to get me one. He got me Dory.”

“Oh for the love of…” Katie spluttered “Uncle Bucky won’t get you one either.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll tell him not to.” Katie looked at her “We have Stark. No more animals.”

Rori folded her arms and at that point Steve stepped in, sensing an impending tantrum.

“Aurora.” He said sternly and she turned her head to face him as he pointed his fork at her. “Enough.”

She glared at him before she sighed and looked at Katie “Can I get down now please?”

Katie obliged and pulled her stool out a little allowing Rori to hop down. “Stay right there little miss.”

“Why?” Rori frowned as Katie headed to the sink, coming back with a cloth. With a groan, Rori held out her hands so Katie could wipe them clean, along with the little smear of icing on her face “20 minutes and then its bath time. We’re up early in the morning.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Rori bounced excitedly “To pick our trees. Hey, can I get one for my room?”

Katie hesitated before she shrugged “You know, I saw some in the shop that already have the lights on and they change colour. We’ll get a big one for the lounge and hallway like normal and I’ll get you a special one. And you get to keep it for next year and the year after.”

Rori pondered this for a moment before she shook her head “I want a real one from the farm.”

Katie groaned, and threw her hands out to the side “Fine, just, go and watch TV or something in the Play Room.”

“I watch TV too please, Momma?” Harry asked and Katie nodded, cleaning him up too before she lifted him down off the stool. He toddled after Rori, yelling for her to wait and as soon as they were gone Katie rounded on Steve.

“Honey, I…” he began and winced as she exploded on him.

“Seriously? A damned cat?”

“She caught me unawares.”

“She always catches you unawares!” Katie scoffed “After six, almost seven years I’d have thought you’d be used it by now.”

“I only said-“

“And as usual I’m left to be the bad guy.” Katie ranted, shaking her head as she moved to turn Flossie’s chair so she was facing the table. “You’re an asshole.”

“This is technically Bucky’s fault.”

“Oh, no, Steven Grant Rogers! Don’t you are try and blame this one on Buck.” She hissed.

“But he took her to the zoo and told her to ask for a capybara!” Steve practically whined “When I said no she asked for a cat, the maybe just slipped out.” Katie paused, her arms folded, face furious and Steve peered up at her giving her a little smile “Don’t be mad, come on baby. I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re still an asshole.” She grumbled, before she crossed to the fridge and pulled out the wine. “And for that you can deal with bedtime. I’m going for a bath.”

“Sure, not a problem.” Steve nodded, swallowing more of his food. Katie poured herself a large glass before she moved to put the bottle back and then changed her mind. With the bottle in one hand, full glass in the other she made for the door. “I love you.” Steve shot as she passed him, and despite her annoyed demeanour, the slight smile that played on her face told him he wasn’t in too much trouble.  

****

All kids were bathed and in bed little over an hour later. The youngest three settled down to sleep, Jamie instructed he had an hour of TV or reading time before lights off.

“Ok Dad.” He nodded, running his hand through his hair as he tidied up his games console a little, Stark curled up on the bed.

“I’ll be in to check.” Steve looked at him, and Jamie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I got it. You can trust me.”

“I know.” Steve gave a chuckle “Night son.” He crossed the room to drop a kiss to his head and Jamie pushed him away.

“Gerroff, I’m ten.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still my kid so…” Steve grumbled, and Jamie burst into laughter as the pair of them began to play fight, Jamie digging Steve in the ribs with a well-aimed jab. “Ouch! “ Steve stood up, rubbing at his side, that had hurt a little too much for his liking. “Nice shot.”

“Bucky said I had a good right hook.”

Steve rolled his eyes “I don’t wanna know how he even found that out.”

“He has a punch bag in the garage.” Jamie shrugged as he flopped down onto his bed. “Like yours. He was teaching me to swing.”

“I could teach you that.” Steve replied, a little petulantly.

“Will you?”

“No. You’re ten.” He shot back and Jamie let out a groan of frustration, before Steve chuckled “Ok, I’ll teach you a little IF you promise not to use it anywhere but on the punch bag.”

“But what if I need to use it?”

“Well, that’s different.” Steve pondered, before he shook his head. “But you’re far too young to be getting into situations like that.”

“Uncle Buck said you were fighting people form the age of six. And getting your ass kicked.”

“Well, you do as I say…”

“Not as I do, yeah I got it.” Jamie grinned and Steve arched an eyebrow before he made his way to the door. He paused and turned back to look at his son, not for the first time taking in how damned tall and broad he was for his age. He pointed to Stark “Don’t let your mother catch him on the bed.”

“You know she says the same thing about you.” Jamie looked at him and Steve chuckled.

“I do, but let’s just pretend I don’t okay?”

“Okay, night dad. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Steve smiled, closing the door behind him.

He made his way back downstairs and into the lounge, and paused as he saw Katie talking into the laptop, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Don’t worry about it.” She said softly, and he could tell she was fighting to keep her face straight as Emmy’s voice came from the other side.

“I’m just gutted we can’t get home to come with you guys for the tree.”

“What’s going on?” Steve frowned as he sat next to Katie on the sofa, looking at Emmy and Peter as they both waved to him on the screen “Hey Kids.”

“The UK has been caught up in a huge snow storm.” Katie turned to him. “Their flight has been cancelled.”

“Bummer.” Steve’s frown deepened “Is there nothing from another airport?”

“Not in London.” Emmy shook her head “And the roads are that bad, even if we managed somewhere else…”

“Don’t wanna risk driving Mr R.” Pete shrugged and Steve had to give it to him, that was a sensible move.

“Wise decision.” Steve bit his lip, before he turned to Katie “Can we not get The Stark jet over? You guys should have used that anyway, not gone commercial.”

The irony of his statement didn’t pass him by, as there’d been a time when he had hated using a private jet as he felt it was ostentatious, but he’d fast learned to live with it as it was less hassle and a damned sight comfier and quicker too.

“I told you we didn’t want to.” Emmy shot back and Peter hastily cut in to prevent an argument.

“Already tried Happy before we called. He can’t get in any airfield be it private or other. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Katie shook her head “If you need anything just call. Have you got a place to stay?”

“Yeah, The Savoy found us another room.” Emmy shrugged before she grimaced “I’m gonna have to put it on my credit card though.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Katie shook her head “Just do what you gotta do, we’ll sort the bill out. Do you need us to wire you some cash or-“

“No, we’ve got enough between us for that.” Pete smiled “Just the hotel. We could get somewhere cheaper if that’s-“

“If it’s that bad out there you can stay where you are.” Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about the money kids, it’s not important.”

“Just call us if you need anything.” Katie added.

“Thanks Mom. Look, we’re gonna go try and get something to eat and then sleep” Emmy sighed “It’s past 1 am now.”

“Sure, call us tomorrow okay, keep us updated.” Steve instructed and Emmy nodded.

“Will do. Love you both.”

“And you.” Katie smiled “Stay safe, and look after each other.”

“Got it.” Emmy grinned and with that she blew them both a kiss as Peter waved and the screen went blank.

Katie bit her lip before she tapped at the keyboard of her laptop “I’m going to send her some money, just in case. I know she has plenty in her savings, but…”

Steve nodded “Good idea. Those are for a rainy day, not a snowy one.”

Katie gave a small smile as she logged into the banking, and hesitated before she transferred a few thousand over to Emmy and closed the laptop, running her hands over her face. Steve saw her shouldes shake and he gave a sigh, pulling her to him.

“Hey, come on. They’re safe. In the poshest hotel known to man.” He pressed a kiss to her head “No doubt thinking this is some kind of huge romantic adventure. Snowed in, in London, with a mini-bar, room service.”

At that thought he grimaced, as his mind took him to a very dark place about just exactly what the spider kid would be doing to his daughter in said hotel room but he shook himself out of it as Katie spoke, sniffling a little.

“I know it’s just, well we started this tradition with Emmy that first Christmas she lived with us.” Her voice cracked “We went with Tony, Pep and Nat remember?”

“I could I forget.” Steve chuckled, his hands rubbing Katie’s back “You were almost five months pregnant and had that jumper on with a huge Christmas pudding on the front.”

“I’ve still got that.” Her voice was muffled as her face pressed into his Henley.

“And Pepper was going mad when Tony bought that nine foot tree for their lounge.”

“Ours wasn’t much smaller.” Katie laughed, leaning back to wipe her eyes. “You had to trim the top off.”

Steve chuckled, his hands cupping her face “A few days after that we found out bump was blue. Hello Jamie.”

“God it seems so long ago.”

“It was.” Steve smiled pressing a kiss to her lips. “11 years.”

“Yeah.” Katie looked at him “We’ve been through a lot since then.”

Steve nodded, as he wiped her face with his thumbs “And a lot worse than this. I know it’s disappointing, kitten, and I’m gutted as well, but it can’t be helped. We’ll still have a good time and we can go out with Emmy and Peter when they get back, nice meal and a few drinks somewhere instead, just the four of us. Start a new tradition now she’s all grown up.”

“Yeah suppose.” Katie sighed “I mean when they moved out in the New Year, they might not wanna come with us to get a tree anymore.”

“Like that’s gonna happen.” Steve snorted “She’ll simply be getting one for her own place. You know she loves Christmas as much as you. All the kids do. Because you make it so special.”

“It isn’t all down to me.” She smiled “You help.”

“It’s definitely your speciality.” Steve shook his head “You do the baking, the carols, the cooking…suss the decorations out.”

“Yeah, but you hang them. And you’re the one that started leaving Santa footprints by the hearth.”

“Okay so it’s a team effort.” Steve shrugged, dropping another kiss to her lips. “It always is when the kids are concerned.” He pulled back a little and nodded to her glass “You want another?”

“I wasn’t going to but yeah, now I do.”

Steve chuckled “I’ll go get us a drink, you find us something suitably Christmassy to watch.”

He stood, pressing his lips to the crown of Katie’s head before he wandered into the kitchen. As he closed the door behind him he pulled out his phone. He’d had an idea, but hadn’t wanted to mention it to Katie just in case it didn’t work…but if it did, well, he was going to reunite his family for their tradition and earn himself major husband points.

Win win situation.

“Hey punk.” Bucky drawled as he picked up.“What’s crackalackin?”

“God you talk some shit.” Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky laughed

“Sorry, we were watching Madagascar.”

“Yeah, I know where it’s from. I got five kids, remember. Six if I count you.”

“Well you could argue Diva Doll counts for two so you really have seven.”

“Yeah, speaking of which, I got a bone to pick with you about her and a damned capybara.” Steve narrowed his eyes as he spoke and there was a pause before Bucky burst out laughing. “Yeah, laugh it up, jerk. That got me in some major shit before.”

“You didn’t say yes?”

“No of course I didn’t.” Steve sighed “But she sideswiped me asking for a damned cat and I said maybe, so…”

“You fucking moron.”

“Whatever, listen, that’s not why I’m calling anyway.” Steve sighed, his voice growing serious. “I need a favour, Buck.”

“I’m listening.” Bucky replied, before Steve explained the predicament and possible solution. When he finished there was a pause and Bucky let out a long whistle. “Man, that’s…”

“I know, I know.” Steve sighed “But I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Katie’s heartbroken Emmy can’t get home.”

“Well, we can’t have the second most important woman in my life upset now can we?” Bucky replied “Leave it with me.”

“Cheers buddy.”

“You’ll owe me a life time of favours if I can pull this off.”

“We’ll call it quits for you almost getting me couched.”

“Not my fault you can’t say no to your likkle Princessa.” Bucky responded and Steve snorted.

“You’ve met her, right?”

There as another pause and Bucky laughed “Point taken.”

“Not a word to Katie.” Steve instructed “Just in case you can’t do it.”

“You seriously doubt me after all this time?” Bucky sighed “That hurts Stevie.”

“You know what else will hurt?” Steve shot back “My foot up your ass.”

“You want me to do this or not?” Bucky scoffed “Because threatening me aint gonna make me wanna do you any favours.”

“No but not wanting to see my wife upset is.”

“You fight dirty, Steven.” Bucky’s voice was low and Steve could imagine the narrowed eyes he was pulling as he spoke. “Okay, I’ll call Sam now. Leave it with me.”

“Thanks Buck.”

Steve cut the call and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, running a hand over his beard. Buck was right, it was a big ask and ridiculously over the top but, well, nothing was too much for him where his family was concerned. And after everything they’d been through this year what with Flossie’s horrific birth and Katie’s post-partum depression, his amazingly brave and gorgeous wife deserved the damned world. With a sigh he yanked open the fridge as he pulled out Katie’s wine and a beer for him, simply hoping that it worked.

**** “You good?” Steve asked as Jamie hopped into the back of the Q7, taking his place on the rear row of seats.

“Yup.” Jamie grinned “I prefer it back here, Rori can’t bug me.”

“Wanna bet?” Rori turned her head and peered at him from her place in the middle of the second row and Steve shot her a look.

“Enough. I hear one sound outta you that’s annoying him, we’re coming straight home.” He said sternly. Rori eyed him shrewdly, as if weighing up whether he was serious or not and he raised his eyebrows, challenging her.

“Ok Daddy.” She shrugged, turning back round. Steve shot Jamie a wink as turned and collapsed Flossie’s little stroller. He slotted it down the side of Jamie’s seat before he shut the trunk and then quickly inspected the roof rack. Satisfied he looked up just as Katie came out of the house, Flossie on her hip, Harry jumping down the steps in front of her. He headed over to his dad and peeked up, Steve giving a laugh as his little woollen hat slipped down over his eyes.

“Come here, buddy.” He said, swinging him into his arms. The little boy gave a giggle as Steve pulled his hat straight so he could see.

“Thanks Daddy!” he smiled and Steve pressed a kiss to his rosy cheek.

“No problem. You ready to get a tree?”

He nodded “Big one!” he threw his arms out wide and Steve nodded seriously.

“The biggest.”

Ten minutes or so later they were sailing out of Brooklyn in the winter morning sun, heading for the tree farm some forty or so minutes away. True to her word, Rori was behaving and chatting to Harry, Jamie was quiet in the back doing something on his tablet and Katie was gently humming to something on the radio. Steve’s hand reached over for hers and he entwined their fingers, gently bringing her arm across his body, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

The journey pass uneventfully and as Steve announced they had arrived the kids all gave a cheer. He parked the car up and then the disembarking began along with issued orders for Jamie and Rori to stay where they were as they sorted the youngest two.

“I think I’ll just carry Floss.” Katie glanced around. “Pushing her stroller is gonna be a pain. I’ll put her in the carrier.”

“You sure?” Steve asked “I would say I’d do it but…”

“You’re gonna be carrying trees, yeah I know.” Katie waved him away. “Its fine, she’s not heavy. Besides, she’ll be too big to do this with next year.”

Steve smiled at her wistful tone, and between them they had Flossie strapped to Katie’s back in no time, having become experts at it over the years. Katie glanced over her shoulder as Flossie gave her a hug grin, before she peeked around and started to gabble animatedly.

“Ready?” Steve looked around and held the hand that wasn’t containing the saw out, Rori taking it as Katie took Harry’s, Jamie falling into step at her other side next to Steve who strategically placed himself between his eldest son and Rori to avoid any potential arguments between the two siblings.

“Want me to take that Dad?” Jamie asked, nodding to the saw. Steve hesitated then shrugged, it had the safety cover on so he handed it over, Jamie slinging it over his shoulder proudly, stepping in front of them a little and Harry wriggled his hand free of Katie’s and ran forward to take Jamie’s. Jamie smiled down at him and Steve shared a glance with Katie as she smiled at him, slipping her hand into his. The family made their way to the entrance and as they approached the various little trade stands, one of which was selling various hot drinks and baked snacks. Katie took a deep breath and smiled, the warming scents of spices, cinnamon and pine hitting her nostrils.

“Smells exactly the same.” She beamed and then frowned as Steve was looking around, blatantly not listening to her as he was busy studying something to their right.

“Hey!” she tugged on his hand and he glanced down at her.

“Sorry, honey.” He diverted his attention “Just saw someone I know.”

“Oh, from work?” she asked.

“Not exactly.” He nodded in the direction he had been looking and Katie spun at the same time Rori let out a shriek.

“Emmy!” she yelled, wrenching her hand free of Steve’s and bolting towards her sister as she strode towards them alongside Peter, Bucky and Sam.

“I don’t-how?” Katie was struggling for words at the sheer emotion of seeing her eldest daughter, who should still be stranded in England, sweeping Rori into hug. “Steve? What?”

“You got Bucky and Sam to thank.” He said gently, as she spun between them all, before she strode forward meeting Emmy halfway and throwing her arms around her.

“Hey mom!” Emmy smiled, before she pulled back and gently waggled Flossie’s hand. “Hi Floss!”

“How did you get here?” Katie sniffed, wiping her eyes, chuckling before she gave Pete a hug.

“Quinjet.” Emmy grinned “It was awesome. Hey Dad!”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Steve swept her up into a huge hug, picking her up slightly off the ground kissing her head. “Nice to have you home.”

“Hold up, a Quinjet?” Katie looked at Emmy, then to Bucky who shrugged.

“Yeah well Steve rang me last night begging for my help…” he began, putting on a whiney voice “Please Buck, I can’t do this without you Buck, you know the usual.” Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky sniggered. “So, me and Birdbrain set off on a daring rescue mission.”

“Yeah, we totally used and abused Fury’s equipment.” Sam chuckled, as he pressed a kiss to Katie’s cheek as he gave her a hug. “He’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

“Oh, screw him!” Katie gave a laugh as she turned to Bucky, wrapping her arms round him. “Thank you so much!”

“Anything for you darlin’” he beamed before she stepped back and spun to face Steve, reaching up and grabbing his face. With a smile she pulled him down to meet her in a long, deep kiss.

“Thank you.” She whispered against his lips, and he beamed at her, his nose brushing hers. “I love you, so much.”

“Love you too.” He smiled, before he drew himself up, a little embarrassed at their PDA in front of his two friends and the kids. “Right, who’s ready to go tree picking?”

“We’ll leave you to it.” Bucky smirked as various excited shouts rang out around them. “I’ve got stuff to do with Jen and Sam’s…ahhhh, crap.” The smile on his face turned into a grimace and Steve spun round to see a familiar figure in a trench coat and eyepatch stood by a black SUV watching from a distance.

“Son of a-” Steve snorted, shaking his head as Fury started walking towards of them. “He still knows everything.”

“You have no idea. “Sam muttered.

“Oh, trust me, we do.” Katie grinned as Fury stopped in front of them.

“Someone wanna tell me why one of my jets was in London this morning?” Fury looked at Bucky, then to Sam, then to Peter, all three of them giving him an innocent look.

“Well, there was a thing.” Bucky shrugged “Emergency.”

“Emergency.” Fury dead panned “So nothing to do with a certain Miss Rogers and Mr Parker being stuck in London in snow storm?”

“How do you know this stuff?” Bucky looked at him.

“I told you Barnes, you wanna get one up on me you gotta keep both eyes open.” He levelled him with a look. “Happy called me in a flap to see if I could action a pick up and I told him I wasn’t running a damned Uber service. And then one of them went missing so I put two and two together and looks like I came up with four” He paused and shrugged, smirking a little “Plus, you forgot to wipe the mission log.”

“Damned it Tin Man!” Sam shoved Bucky “You dick, I told you!”

As the two men began to squabble Fury raised his eyebrows and turned to Steve and then Katie, a small smile flickered across his face “Nova, Cap. Long-time no see.”

“Hi Nick.” Steve smiled, reaching out and shaking his hand.

Fury jerked his head as Katie shook his hand, his eyes roving over each of their kids in turn. “I’ll say. You’ve been busy I see.”

Katie gave a huff “One way of putting it.”

Nick arched an eyebrow before he sighed and turned to Bucky and Sam who were still bickering. “Imma let this one slide.” He spoke loudly, the two men instantly turning to face him. “But only because it’s the holidays and I’m in a good mood.”

“You know technically Stark Industries owns half those jets. Tony paid for and designed a lot of the tech on them after all.” Katie quipped and Nick looked at her, before he let out a laugh.

“You’re more like your brother than you’ll ever care to admit” he shook his head as she snorted, pointing at her.

“Worse people to be like.” She smiled fondly, and Fury gave one last scoff before he turned to Sam and Bucky.

“I’ll see you two later. Now, imma go get me some churros then split.” He looked back at them all “Merry Christmas.”

As they all waved him off, watching the curious glances he attracted as he strode towards the hot food stand and then Harry tugged on Steve’s sleeve, causing him to turn his attention from Fury to the little boy.

“Daddy, who’s the pirate?” Harry asked.

There was a pause before Katie burst out laughing, Steve following suite as they both shared a knowing glance, remembering Tony’s fond little nickname for their one time director.

The Goth Pirate.

“He’s an old friend of mine and your momma’s “Steve explained before he glanced up, not surprised to find that once more Fury had disappeared from sight. “We haven’t seen him in a while. And I doubt we will again for a long time.”

There were more hugs shared and after another final thank you to Sam and Bucky, Katie demanding they come over later for drinks, the four remaining adults and four kids all headed into the farm and the chaos began as they began to scout for their perfect trees.

“So we need two large ones.” Katie spoke, “And one for Emmy and Pete in the Cabin and a smaller one for Rori’s room.” she paused “Jamie, did you want one for your room too?”

“Nah, it’s okay.” He shook his head “Thanks though.”

“So four over all.” Steve nodded. “Okay gang, let’s find us some trees.”

They decided to get Rori’s first as it would be smaller and easier to carry once they’d picked it. They set about walking down the various aisles, and before long the jokes started flowing and they were getting worse and worse with time.

“What would you get if you ate the Christmas decorations?” Pete asked and Jamie looked at him, arching a brow. “Tinselitis.”

“Oh God.” Emmy snorted “That’s as bad as one of dad’s”

“Which reminds me.” Steve said, a smirk on his face, “Did you guys hear the forecast for Christmas eve? They’re predicting rain, deer…”

Katie and Emmy both let out a groan as Jamie and Peter howled with laughter.

“What do you call an elf that runs away from Santa’s workshop?” Jamie asked and Steve paused before he shrugged.

“No idea.”

“A rebel without a Clause…”

Katie, Steve, Emmy and Pete burst out laughing as Pete held out his hand to hi-five him. Jamie grinned.

“That’s a good one buddy.” Steve chuckled. “Where did you hear that?”

“Moo text me before.” He smiled “She said her and Auntie Pep had been googling them to put in their cards this year.”

“Like Father like daughter.” Katie smiled to herself, a little nostalgically as a memory of her brother crashed over her and Steve pulled her a little closer, his hand tightening on hers as he dropped a kiss to her head.

After half an hour or so of scouting and plenty of excited shouts and laughter, Rori paused in front of a tree that was the same height as her and she gave a gasp.

“Daddy, that one.” She pointed.

“You sure?” he cocked his head to one side. The tree was leaning to one side, the branches completely uneven, sticking out at all angles and the top was bent. “It’s a bit-”

“It’s perfect.” Rori insisted.

“Okay Princess, whatever you say.”  He looked at Katie as she smiled, her hand dropping to the back of Rori’s head. “Jamie, you got the saw?”

“Yup.” Jamie nodded, passing it over and they all watched as Steve gripped the trunk of the small tree with one hand a little higher up and began to cut it towards the bottom. He could have easily snapped the trunk with his bare hands but he played the part and in four strong swipes it pulled free with a little crack and Rori gave a shriek and clapped her hands.

“I love it!”

Once the safety cover was back on the saw they continued their search, walking towards the slightly bigger trees they spotted and Katie paused in front of a large, Norwegian spruce and reached out, gently crushing one of the needles between her fingers. She took a sniff and stepped back, nodding.

“That one.”

“I still can’t believe you pick them with the smell.” Steve shook his head.

“It’s not all the smell.” She protested “There’s a lot to consider. The height, width and spacing of the branches…this one’s just right for the corner in the lounge. And that one two down will do for the hallway.”

Steve chuckled, knowing better than to argue. “Positive?”

Katie nodded and once more Jamie passed him the saw. This time they all stepped back as Steve crouched down on the ground, expertly cutting the trunk and just the right place. As he took the final swipe, the tree pitched over to a loud shout of “Timberrrrr” from Jamie and Peter and it landed with a thud.

Harry gave a loud cackle and clapped, Flossie shrieking too as Steve then moved two down and repeated the action with a slightly smaller one that would sit in the entrance lounge directly in front of the photo of the pair of them at their wedding, so it would be the first thing anyone saw as they walked into the house.

Emmy strode past the tree to one that was behind it and then nodded to Pete “I think this one will do. I kinda like the way it fans out at the bottom.”

“Sure, Em.” He smiled “Mr R?”

“Oh, here.” Steve handed him the saw and watched as Pete cut his and Emmy’s first Christmas tree down, his arm round Katie’s waist, lips softly kissing Flossie’s cheek as the baby grinned. He arched an eyebrow as Emmy pressed a kiss to Pete’s lips, giving a soft huff as Katie dug him in the ribs, shooting him a warning glance which he returned with an innocent one of his own.

“Well, that was easy.” Emmy commented “It took us 2 hours last year.”

“They need to be right.” Katie shrugged simply, Steve and Emmy exchanging a look before Steve watched as Pete hoisted his tree easily onto his shoulder. It still surprised Steve how strong Peter was, even though it shouldn’t, he knew he was enhanced after all.

“I’ll take Rori’s, Dad.” Jamie stepped forwards, puffing his chest out a little, picking the smaller tree up easily and placing it on his shoulder, in an identical manner to Pete. Steve actively fought the urge to laugh as Jamie began to walk besides Peter and Emmy, clearly proud as punch at being able to help before he turned to Katie.

“Don’t say it.”

Katie laughed “Oh I’m gonna.” she smirked “If he was any more like you I’d be convinced he was a clone.”

Steve snorted as he bent down and easily lifted their two trees onto his shoulders, before they followed a little slower due to Harry being with them. Steve maneuvered around the other tree pickers as they went, his boot clad feet traipsing on the damp of the ground as they made their way back towards the main entrance and joined Pete, Emmy and Jamie at the place ready to pay. As the various helpers, all dressed in little Elf outfits bustled around to wrap their trees and strap them to the roof of the Audi, Katie was suddenly struck with a little problem.

“Hang on.” she turned to Emmy as she thanked the man who’d been dealing with and handed over the cash. “How are you two gonna get home if Bucky and Sam left?”

At that Pete gave a little grin and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, “Mr Wilson let me borrow his Chevvy.”

“Yeah they went home on Buck’s bike.” Emmy shrugged and at that Steve let out a huge laugh.

“What?” Katie asked.

“Sorry, I’m just picturing those two riding pillion.” He snorted “I give it five minutes before Sam ended up tells Buck to let him off on account of him driving his Ducatti like a maniac.”

“You’ve no room to talk.” Katie scoffed and Steve looked at her with mock outrage.

“Mom?” Jamie asked and Katie turned to him “Can we get a drink now please?”

“Sure, come on.” She smiled and they headed over to the stall. She purchased a hot cider each for her, Steve, Emmy and Pete before hot chocolate for each of the kids along with a selection of donuts, churros and Stollen as Steve took Flossie back to the car so they could pop her in the stroller. They made their way over to one of the benches by the side and sat down and Steve returned, parking Flossie besides them before he handed her a piece of a donut and slipped his arm round Katie, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“You have a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She beamed, before she glanced over at the other side of the bench. Jamie was settled to Emmy’s left, talking to her about school, as she nodded along whilst Rori was perched on Peter’s knee as she animatedly told him about how she was going to decorate her tree in unicorn colours. Harry meanwhile sat in between both Pete and Emmy, his little frame chewing on a donut as he grinned at his parents who smiled back. Katie turned to look a Steve again, leaning up to kiss him softly “It’s been perfect, thank you for making sure we were all together.”

“Well it wouldn’t be a Rogers Christmas otherwise would it?” he smiled, kissing her again.

“Get a room.” Emmy grumbled and Steve turned to her as she smirked, shoving a piece of donut in her mouth.

“Watch it young lady.” Steve pointed at her.                      

“Daddy.” Rori asked “Can I go with Pete in their car to Target? I need decorations for my Princess Tree.”

Steve hesitated for a while and Pete hastily cut in “It’s no bother Mr Rogers.”

“Yeah we need some for ours.” Emmy nodded.”So we’re going anyway.”

“I come too?” Harry asked hopefully and Emmy shrugged

“If Momma and Daddy say it’s ok, course you can, squirt.”

Steve looked at Katie who shrugged “Fine by me. Sure you can manage them?”

Emmy rolled her eyes “They’re no bother.” She then turned to Jamie “You wanna come too?”

“Hell no.” he said hastily, peering round at Rori before he shook his head “I’m going home for some peace and quiet.”

Both Steve and Katie let out a loud laugh, as Katie shook her head “Oh Jamie.”

“What?” he frowned.

“Nothing pal.” Steve smiled, reaching for his cider. “Nothing at all.”

#ssholidaychallenge #sageandsweater

[craniumhurricane]

call me, baby, if you need a friend

Cleaning up some old WIPs. This has been in my drafts since end of season 2/around season 3.

Basically 4 times Clarke calls Bellamy and 1 time that Bellamy calls Clarke.

Thank you @casleyislove and @sushigirlali for always reading things before I post them!

[ On AO3! ]

___

(i)

It's a quiet night in at the Blake apartment. Or, at least, for Bellamy it is. He's having a nice Friday night by himself after surviving a truly grueling week of finals. Octavia tried to convince him to go out and celebrate the end of the semester the "right way," but he turned her down… he's still not quite sure how he managed to do that.

His feet are currently propped up on the coffee table with a large bowl of store brand cocoa puffs in his lap. Bellamy may be an adult but damn if he isn’t going to celebrate the end of the term with sugary cereal… nevermind that he didn’t actually make time to grocery shop this week. The TV was queued and ready for the marathon of Ancient Aliens episodes he’d missed due to studying, and he was just about to press play when he hears a short but insistent buzzing sound.  

Glancing around, his eyes land on Octavia’s phone sitting on the corner of the coffee table. She must have left it in her hurry to leave since she was running late to meet up with her boyfriend.

Bellamy keeps his eyes on it for a second before deciding to ignore it, and once again his finger hovers over the play button on the remote. Then the phone lights up again, this time with a phone call; a picture of Octavia and a curly haired blonde that he recognizes, the name CLARKE THE GRIFFIN flashing across the screen. He considers ignoring it for a second time but... if she’s resorting to actually calling instead of texting again then something could be seriously wrong.

Bellamy swipes his thumb across the screen to answer and brings the phone to his ear but before he can even say anything a voice on the other side interjects immediately.

“Men are dicks,” the woman says without preamble. “No! Worse than that. They're weird tumors that grow on dicks," she pauses, seems to think about it, and then adds, "Preferably life threatening.”

Bellamy blinks a few times before he answers, “I'm sure you're right, but don't you think that's a bit harsh?”

The line is quiet. He can hear her shifting the phone, no doubt checking the screen to make sure she called the right person.

“Octavia?”

“Bellamy.”

Clarke huffs. “Where's Octavia?” she snaps. He can hear the annoyance seeping into her tone, which in turn just makes him feel his own frustrations start to rise.

He tamps it down though. “On a date,” he answers.

She deflates at that, “Oh right. One month anniversary with Lincoln.”

He hums a confirmation and then they’re silent for a few minutes. So long that it’s Bellamy’s turn to look at the phone and make sure she’s still there. “Did you need something?” he asks once he sees that the call is still, in fact, in progress.

She takes a deep breath before answering, “I ended things with Finn tonight.”

Bellamy had only met Finn Collins a handful of times; the guy was fine except for a little cocky… and he always seemed to want to show off in front of pretty girls. His hair was too long and always styled like he was some kind of frat boy that came from big money even though Bellamy's 100% sure he never so much as pledged.

And then there was that one time he flirted with Octavia.

Ok, so Bellamy didn’t like the guy. But a break up is still a shitty thing to go through which is why he says, “I’m sorry,” and finds that he means it.

“Not your fault,” Clarke says immediately, “But I was kind of looking for someone to watch me binge drink and listen to me vent.”

He understands that, having gone through the same thing when he broke up with Roma at the start of the term. If you could really call them “hooking up occasionally” the same thing as dating, but still, getting drunk with Miller had been essential in the whole moving on process.

“You want to come over here anyway?” he offers carefully, casually. He doesn’t mind Clarke. She’s younger than him, around Octavia’s age. They aren’t exactly friends, but he would consider them a little more than acquaintances. Enough that it shouldn’t be too weird for him to invite her over even without his sister present. Plus, her getting drunk here is a better alternative than her getting drunk by herself in some bar.

“You don’t mind?” she asks and he thinks he hears relief in her voice, “I was kind of already on my way over to your guy’s place... I don’t really feel like going out and I really don't feel like being depressed and alone in my dorm right now.”

“Nah,” he says and then tries a joke to brighten her spirits, “Sounds like something fun to watch. I’ll order food.”

“Chinese would be great,” and he swears he can hear a smile in her voice so he’ll count his dumb joke as a victory. “Thanks, Bellamy, see you soon.”

He's not even a little bit mad about dumping out his now soggy cereal.

*

(ii)

“So, you’ve been in school for basically forever. Is it normal for a person to experience this amount of stress?”

Bellamy’s lips twitch as he holds his phone to his ear. After Clarke crashed his Friday night in, and spilled on the whole cheating Finn debacle while they did shots, Bellamy figured he should give her his own cell phone number. As much as he hated to admit it, and honestly he never will, his sister and her boyfriend were getting serious, so who knows how much Octavia would be available for late night bitchfests about significant others, fellow students, and the human population in general. Which were just a few of the topics they discussed that night. Hanging out with Clarke ended up being kind of fun, a better night than he originally planned. She even let him watch a little of his marathon and offered her own commentary. Bellamy would do it again… which is something else he would never admit.

It's not like they suddenly talk every day, but it’s a near thing. They would send each other the occasional text when one of them sees something that the other absolutely has to know about. Mostly, he gets pictures of old dogs she sees at the park, asking if this will be him in 20 years. Bellamy responds in kind with memes about college life and rubbing it in her face that they no longer apply to him since he graduated last semester.

But sometimes she reaches out to him if there is something particularly bothering her. Such as dealing with egotistical dickwads that consider themselves professors and shutting down female students in a male dominated class.

Clarke’s probably the only person that ever calls him and can never start the conversation with a simple ‘Hello’. Actually, she’s probably the only person that actually still calls him.

“I just got a job teaching so that insult isn't going to work anymore since I literally will be in a school as part of my job,” is his first response before he turns to one of concern, “Midterms got ya down?”

“It’s just,” she gives an exasperated sigh before continuing, “I want to do something that helps people, I know I want to help people… But maybe I don't want to help people the way my mom wants me to help people...ya know?”

“You’re going to have to give me more to go on here, Princess-”

“I’m thinking about switching my major,” she says abruptly, like she’s ripping off a band aid.

He’s silent, waiting to see if she’s going to say anything else. When it becomes clear she’s waiting for him to say something he responds honestly, “If being a doctor isn’t something you want to do, then you shouldn’t do it.”

“But-”

“What your mom wants you to do shouldn’t overrule what you want to do, Clarke,” he interrupts her. Due to the increasing amount of time he’s been spending with Clarke, he’s learned that the Griffins have always had a capital “P” Plan and he knows that Clarke has a hard time knowing when she can push the boundaries of said Plan.

She’s silent again and Bellamy’s starting to think he’s going to have to prod her a second time. He’s got the beginnings of his big speech all prepared when finally she speaks up. “I’m thinking about going into Art Therapy,” She says thoughtfully, “Or maybe teaching? Helping out underprivileged kids...or hell, even underprivileged adults. Or maybe something for the community?”

His lips twitch on another smile at hearing the beginnings of a hint of passion in her voice. “Teaching can be very rewarding,” he says magnanimously.

She snorts and it turns into a full laugh, “You haven't even started yet! It could be the worst thing you’ve ever done and a total waste of your degree.”

“Your confidence in me really is touching,” he deadpans and then adds simply, “You’re an amazing artist, Clarke. I think doing something with that could be something you'd enjoy and be really really good at.”

She’s quiet when she asks, “You think I’m amazing? You’ve never told me that.” And Bellamy swears he can hear that smile in her voice again. The one he always looks forward to. The one he tries to coax out of her without realizing he’s doing it.

He feels his cheeks start to heat up and even though she can't see him, he feels the need to brush it off. “Yeah, well, I generally try to be as dickish as possible so…”

She snorts again and damn if he didn’t feel a slight flutter in his chest.

“For the record, I think you’re going to be an amazing teacher,” she says it so matter-of-factly but he’ll have to dwell on it later because she sobers and then asks softly, “So, you think I should do it?”

It’s not hard for him to build her up. She spends so much time being there for the rest of their slowly merging friend groups that she rarely takes time to see the greatness in herself. He doesn’t mind helping.

“I think you should do whatever the hell you want.”

*

(iii)

“Women are worse than men.”

Bellamy rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances at the clock; it was almost 3 in the morning. “I thought men were tumors?” he asks around a yawn.

“Yeah, well, women can be tumors too,” Clarke huffs, but she just sounds tired, “Comparing people to tumors is equal opportunity. Strides in feminism are being made, didn’t you know?”

Bellamy pushes himself into a sitting position, suddenly more alert as he picks up the trace of tears in her voice. “You ok?” he asks.

Clarke is silent at first, but he waits her out, he knows that she’ll tell him. “Lexa broke up with me,” she says quietly and then adds in confusion, “Or we broke up with each other? I’m a little unsure. We spent the whole night arguing and then suddenly she was packing up her stuff.” She pauses before taking a shaky breath, “It’s over. We’re over.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“She was leaving anyway,” she continues, bitterly, “Some new job. She was leaving in a few weeks and didn’t even bother to tell me. I told her we could make it work long distance, I was willing to try and make it work. That’s when the arguing started. Not just about that but about-,” Clarke abruptly cuts herself off and hesitates, “about... other things. Things I didn’t even know were an issue.” She’s quiet again before she adds, “She didn’t say it but I think she was disappointed that I never suggested going with her...”

The thought makes a quick flash of irritation run through him. “She wanted you to uproot your entire life and go with her,” he summarizes as he tries to adjust the pillows on his bed by beating them, maybe a little too roughly at the thought of her doing just that, before leaning back against them.

“Which is completely crazy, I know,” she hurries to say, “but I wish we could have talked about it.”

“I am sorry, Clarke,” he says again, “I know Lexa seemed like she was it for you.”

“But maybe she wasn’t?” Clarke counters as if trying to reason with herself. “I don’t know. We were both committed to each other, but maybe this was a sign that we weren’t going to be able to make it work long term?” She pauses and Bellamy can hear the gears in her head turning as she processes a way for her to handle this, too explain it to herself. “When we were together,” she hesitates before continuing, and he can imagine her biting her lip, “I was happy... but I felt like a separate version of myself, ya know? Still me, but not completely me?”

Bellamy chews on the words he wants to say and goes with, “Sometimes the person you're with can change you; it's not always a bad thing.” He gets quiet as he adds thoughtfully, “I like to think Gina made me a better person...and she probably did,” he pauses, this time unsure if he should keep going, but Clarke hasn't said anything, so she must be waiting for him to continue, “We tried, tried really hard, to make it work, but eventually you just realize that maybe the relationship isn't going anywhere and what’s best for everyone is just to call it.”

“Wait, you and Gina broke up?” Clarke asks in surprise, “When did that happen!?”

“That's what you got from that?” He rubs a hand over his face as he thinks about it, “About two weeks ago?”

“Shit,” she says and is quiet before asking in a small voice, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Honestly, I haven't seen a whole lot of you these last few months,” he hears what he said and corrects himself, “We haven’t seen a whole lot of you.” He’s surprised at his ability to keep the bite out of his voice; because the truth was this last year has sucked since Clarke started dating Lexa.

They met at one of Clarke's art gigs. Lexa was cool; fun when she wanted to be, but also a little hard to be around. Most of the time, she seemed to prefer doing things without any of Clarke’s friends.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says.

“It’s fine,” he answers her and means it. “Gina and I are still good friends.”

“I wasn’t talking about you and Gina,” she says, voice soft.

He realizes what she’s actually apologizing for and he doesn’t know what to say. Because of course he forgives her, he will always forgive her.

The silence lasts too long so he clears his throat and prompts, “Want to come over and get drunk?”

Her laugh through the phone breaks the tension, “It’s like 3 o'clock in the morning.”

“My bar is always open.”

She chuckles. “I really want to hit something,” she says with a determined edge to her voice, “Then maybe get drunk.”

“How about this, we get a few more hours of sleep, wake up at a normal time, and go hit something,” he offers and then adds as if it's an afterthought, “And then get drunk, of course.”

She laughs again, “Oh, of course.” There’s that smile. “I forgot what being single with you was like.”

Bellamy sobers at the thought. It has been awhile since the two of them were single at the same time. “Always here to help, Princess.”

*

(iv)

“Why did I agree to this trip again?”

He’s packing up the essays that are scattered across his desk when she calls, 4 o’clock on the dot. Bellamy tries to suppress a laugh but he’s pretty sure she can at least hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Just getting back to the hotel?” he asks in lieu of his own greeting.

“Yes!” she exclaims in exasperation. “And if it were up to Josephine, we probably would have walked all of damn Paris tonight,” her voice gets muffled at the end and he can only assume she’s thrown herself face first onto the nearest bed. “I cannot wait for a shower- No! A bath, definitely taking a long, hot bath.”

And now the image of Clarke Griffin in the bath, with just enough bubbles to cover up to her chest, has entered his mind. He shoves it away before anymore thoughts can accompany it.

This used to never be a problem. Sure, he’s always known that Clarke is attractive, but he has never been attracted to her. But ever since he broke up with Gina and she broke up with Lexa, Bellamy has been exceedingly aware of the fact that they have both remained single.

The last time this happened was right after Finn.

Bellamy shakes his head for good measure before responding. “You’re going to fall asleep in the tub and your roommate will find your prune-y, wrinkled body in the morning.” He cringes.  Apparently he wasn’t able to get the image of her completely out of his head.

Clarke scoffs, but he can tell that it’s in an exasperated but fond kind of way. “How is it that you manage to be a buzzkill from over 4,000 miles away?” she asks drily and then pauses before adding, “Actually, Josie would probably just leave me in there for the entire trip and never let on that something was up.”

He turns the key to lock his office behind him and heads for the staff lot. “Don’t worry, if you don’t call to check in, I’ll call the National Guard,” he teases.

“I know you would,” she says simply, like it’s a known fact.

Things have been a little weird after he became aware that they were both single. Mostly because, he’s pretty sure that Clarke has also come to realize it. When he turns to look at her, he often finds her already looking. Their innocent touches are now more frequent and linger just a bit longer.

Bellamy has come to realize that he doesn’t want to be single and the reason he doesn’t want to be single is because he wants his best friend to not be single with him.

There’s just never a right time to tell her.

“So, what did you do today?” he asks.

Despite the exhaustion and jetlag that’s surly setting in, Clarke jumps into an animated retelling of the flight and arriving at their hotel room just in time to change clothes and head back out to walk the streets of Paris to get their bearings before their tours officially start tomorrow.

“I’m a little disappointed that we’re doing the Louvre first thing tomorrow. I was hoping to be a little more alert for that.”

“Your coffee addiction hasn’t stopped just because you’re in another country,” he points out as he gets in his car.

She laughs, “Jeez, you are such an ass.”

He starts the car but doesn’t leave just yet; afraid the long distance call will drop out.

“What are you doing now?” he asks into the comfortable silence.

“Admiring the view,” she admits softly. “It really is gorgeous all lit up. Makes me want to dig out my sketchbook.”

“You have a week, Princess,” he chuckles. “Don’t screw up your jetlag even more by losing track of time in your drawings on the first night.”

She’s quiet again before confessing softer somehow, “It also makes me wish you were here.”

His heart clenches in his chest and he wills himself to sound normal. “Maybe next time,” he tries for teasing but it comes out almost wistful.

“Next time, hmmm?” Clarke hums. “You’d come to Paris with me?” And he’s sure she’s flirting with him.

“Well, maybe not for our first date,” he says, “But maybe, like, our fifth or something.”

Clarke’s quiet for a long time and he’s afraid he’s overstepped, misread the room. He’s about to take it back, play it off as a joke when she finally speaks.

“And what would a first date look like?” she asks with what he thinks is hope in her voice.

He swallows a couple of times. “Well,” he starts, “Since you’re already getting some of the best museum experiences, I’d probably settle for dinner and a movie. Something cheesy that’s playing at the dollar theater; where we’re the only ones there and can yell at the screen.”

She chuckles and his heart flutters, “We already do that, Bell. Quite frequently, actually.”

“Yeah, but if it’s a date then I’d get to kiss you at the end of it.”

“What? No making out during the movie?” she asks and he can picture how cute her face gets when she pouts.

A grin spreads across his face and he’s grateful no one can see how goofy he must look.

“We’ll have to make sure it’s a really bad movie.”

*

(+i)

Clarke rubs some moisturizer on her face before capping the tube and tossing it into her bag on the bed. After ensuring that everything she’s going to need for tomorrow is packed, she zips it up and grabs one of Bellamy’s hoodies to slip on over her clothes.

Ever since he picked her up from the airport when she got back from her trip to Paris, and she ran directly into his arms, giving the other people waiting quite a show, there always seems to be one laying around, waiting for her to find it. She assumes that he gets as much of a thrill out of her wearing them as she does.

She heads down the stairs of their townhouse, passing various pictures and artwork, and shoots Raven one more text not to forget to bring her dress to the venue tomorrow. She’s supposed to help her get ready in the morning along with her mother. In the meantime, Abby has sent a car to pick her up and take her to the hotel. Easier to get ready if she’s already there for the stylist… something else her mother insisted on paying for. No matter how many times Clarke told her she didn’t care what her hair looked like because she was marrying the love of her life.

Clarke locks up the house and greets the driver, slipping into the backseat. She intends to spend the ride lost in thought, going through the checklists that were running through her head.

Their engagement had been on the short side but she didn’t mind. They were both ready to get on with this next chapter in their lives.

Her phone is resting loosely in her hand, face down on her knee, when it starts to vibrate with an incoming call. She holds her breath for a second, praying it isn’t the florist or the caterers. But when she sees the photo of her and Bellamy from New Year’s flash on the screen, she can’t help but smile.

She taps the button and greets him with a sultry, “Hi, handsome.”

“Hey,” he says and she can tell he has a soft smile on his face, the one just for her. “You just leave the house?”

“Yep. On my way to the hotel now, so hopefully you haven’t forgotten anything because it’s too late now.”

“The most important thing is already on its way,” he responds with a teasing lilt.

Clarke can’t help the sharp laugh that escapes her lips, “Oh my god! You are such a sap!”

“I was referring to the ring, obviously, Princess.”

“Oh, obviously,” she says, mock serious.

They chuckle to themselves for a few minutes and she honestly can’t tell if the driver is rolling his eyes or thinks they’re being cute from hearing one side of the conversation.

Bellamy sobers up first only to let out a groan. “I hate whose ever idea this is,” he whines.

“Aren’t you the history professor? Shouldn’t you know where common traditions and such come from?”

He scoffs, “No, I mean I hate whichever of our friends is making us do this.”

The two of them haven’t seen each other since yesterday morning, him having been spirited off by his groomsmen while she was left to spend last night alone in their bed. And now they’re meant to go one more night without seeing each other.

To Bellamy’s point, Clarke isn’t altogether sure why this is a tradition anymore, nor why they are choosing to follow this particular one. She and Bellamy aren’t even that superstitious! And yet somehow they were talked into spending the days leading up to their wedding apart.

“Ah,” she answers him now, “That would be Raven and Miller. Although, I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with marriage traditions and has everything to do with getting back at us for making out in front of them so much.”

Bellamy scoffs again, “Well, jokes on them, because after tomorrow, I don’t ever have to stop kissing you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, “We’ll have to come up to eat at some point.”

The driver pulls up under the awning of the hotel and Clarke gets out and grabs her bag before he’s able to get out and grab it for her. She gives him a wave and a simple thank you before heading through the sliding doors.

“How’s your room?” she asks into the phone as she bypasses the check in desk, her mother having already checked her in and given her the key card to her room this morning when they were getting their nails done.

He heaves a deep sigh. “Lonely,” he answers as she steps into the elevator. From what Clarke knows from his texts, Miller dropped him off here last night and left him to his own devices. Apparently, the best man gets to sleep next to his husband but Bellamy wasn’t allowed to sleep next to his soon-to-be wife.

She makes a split second decision and presses a different button, jolting the elevator to stop sooner than intended. When she steps off she casually offers, “I could help with that.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “You going to describe for me what you’re wearing?”

“Hmm,” she hums as if she’s considering it. “I could do that… but I was more thinking that I could show you.”

Clarke stops in front of a door and gives it a nice rhythmic knock.

She doesn’t have to wait long before it’s opening and Bellamy is standing in front of her with his phone against his ear and a huge grin on his face.

She lowers her own phone from her ear, pressing the end button without looking.

“Hi, handsome,” she manages before he’s pulling her into his room.

[marvinswriting]

old vers

ménage, chapter one

ménage: (noun) the members of a household hi! welcome to my first (posted) original g/t work! its gonna be multi chaptered, this one is pretty much worldbuilding, but there’s more to come!

riley pov

It was night time, the only light in the kitchen was the moonlight filtering softly into the kitchen. The white glow bounced delicately off the counter under the windowsill, illuminating the room. A girl entered the room, walked silently across the tile floor. She walked with purpose, seemingly already knowing what she was looking for- but paused with confusion when the counter was empty. "Where are you hiding?" There was no audible response, but the girl knew better. She looked to the dark corner of the kitchen with a grin. "Hey Audwin". 

A small figure emerged from the shadows, no more than four inches tall. The form moved across the counter, stopping when they reached the moonlight. "You're getting better at sensing where I am." His small voice traveled perfectly across the silent kitchen.

"I've been practicing." The girl said softly, crossing the kitchen. 

This was their friendship. They had two different worlds, two different lives. Yet on late night meetings, they were equal. Nobody knew they hung out. Borrowers would think the boy was reckless and humans would think the girl was crazy. So they met in secrecy. 

They didn’t talk much that night. They simply enjoyed each other’s company.

"You should get to bed." The borrower commented after a while. "You're going to be miserable tomorrow if you don’t."

The girl smiled. "Maybe."

"Definitely." 

The girl laughed. "Fine, I"ll go to bed. Good night, Audwin."

"Until tomorrow." He smiled, watching the girl get up and leave the kitchen, the room falling silent once again.

Lenna laughed, pulling her teddy bear closer to her. “That’s my favorite story.”

“Really?” I smile, closing the book. “I like the one where the borrower fights a mouse.”

“He fights a mouse?!” Lanna sits up in bed wide eyes. “Read it, Riley!”

“No no, you promised one bedtime story and you wouldn't give a problem about going to sleep tonight.”

Lanna pouts. “I’m nine! Why can’t I stay up?”

“Sorry sweets, Rebeckah said it’s bedtime. Look, Kenny fell asleep.” I point across the room to where a blond mop of hair peaked out from under to covers of another bed.

“Kenny is eight. I’m nine.”

“Oh quite the age difference, huh.” When the only response I got was a stuck out tongue, I continued, “Let’s make a deal,” I say, turning to book over in my hand. “I’ll read you two stories before bed tomorrow if you go to bed now.”

Lanna perked up instantly. “Deal!” She throws the covers over her head and I laugh. “Night, Lanna.”

“Goodnight, Riley!”

I smile, turning the lights off in the room, watching the night light reflect off the two beds. Lanna and Kenny were the two youngest children that Rebeckah is fostering. It’s hard to get them to bed when everyone else stays up so late but- I look at the book I’m holding- bedtime stories work magic.

The ‘book’ was a collection of short stories Rebeckah wrote when she was little. She still writes, but not as often. I remember her reading me stories when I was little, and now I read them when Rebeckah is busy. 

Rebeckah works hard. She takes care of six kids, has an at home job, and still has time to write stories of tiny people in the walls. She had to have at least three notebooks full and no two stories are the same. We’ve tried to convince her to publish them but she says they’re personal. Which- I understand, but also if I could write like her, I’d want everyone to know.

I walk downstairs and stop in front of Rebekah’s office, knocking gently on the door.

“Come in!”

I step into the work, holding up the book. “Just wanted to put this back.”

“Kenny give you any problems about bed?”

“No, it was actually Lanna.”

Rebeckah raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I grin, placing the notebook amongst the others on a shelf in the back of the room. “When did you start writing these books?” I ask, my finger trailing across the spine of them.

Rebekah gets up from her desks, standing next to me. “Oh, maybe I was thirteen when I wrote the first one?” She picked up one of the notebooks.

It was evidently the oldest. The spine of the book was loose and the cover was faded. Some of the pages had folded corners and the pen ink smudged in places. Rebeckah turned it over in her hand, opening the back cover. There was a small date I never noticed before written neatly in the bottom right.

“I was fourteen, actually.” 

“You were a good writer for a fourteen year old.” I say. “The stories feel so real.”

Rebeckah simply winks. 

“Thank you, Riley. Now- I’m almost done with my work for tonight but if I want to be done before eight I’m gonna need you to shoo.” She waved me away with a smile.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” I grin, shutting the door to the office behind me. 

It clicks shut, the sound echoing softly through the hallway. Just another typical saturday night. Rebeckah works late, Matteo makes dinner, I put the young ones to bed, and then-

“Riley!” A voice calls from further in the house.

I grin knowingly. Right on cue. “Be quiet Evan, Lanna and Kenny are sleeping!”

There’s no response, probably for the best. Screaming across the house is surely a way to wake the younger kids.

I make my way back up the stairs, creeping past Lanna and Kenny’s room, before slipping into the room at the very end of the hall. “What do the three of you want?”

“Wow, rude. You should know by now” Matteo rolled his eyes, motioning to the tv hooked on the wall across from his bed. 

Matteo was the oldest of all the kids, first to be fostered by Rebeckah, and the one with the nicest room. Him and Megan were the only two who didn’t share a room, but that didn’t mean the older kids didn’t crash in Matteo’s room all the time. I think Evan and I spent more time here then in our own room.

“Riley sits next to me!” Megan grins, patting the spot on the bed next to her. 

Evan had already gotten situated on a chair he pulled up next to the bed.

“I dunno, Meg, Matteo may want to sit on his own bed.”

Matteo and I were seventeen with Evan turning seventeen in two weeks, Megan on the other hand, was barely thirteen. Which wasn’t a problem, I love Meg, but I glanced at the horror movie queued up on Matteo's TV with a raised eyebrow.

Evan raised his hands in defense. “Megan picked it.”

“Really?!” I grin.

“I wanna try and watch it.” Megan smiled as Matteo sat next to her. 

“If you insist.” I shake my head, sitting on the floor in front of Evan. “If you get nightmares, Matteo is dealing with it.”

“I’m a teenager. I’m too big for nightmares.” Megan stuck out her tongue as Matteo hit play. 

“If you say so, Meg.” Evan teased. 

Despite what Meg said, she tapped out halfway through the movie, claiming she was ‘just tired’ and ‘ready for bed’. Matteo, Evan, and I all grinned knowingly but let her leave before finishing the movie ourselves. 

Just another saturday night. 

Rebeckah came up around eleven telling us to go to bed, and Evan and I reluctantly made our way to our room. 

“We’re too old for bedtimes.” Evan whined, changing into his pajamas. 

“Now you sound like Lanna, dude.” I laugh.

Out of everyone in the home, Evan was the closest to me. Both in age and friendship. There’s a reason I share a room with him, not Meg or Lanna. He’s the one to learn all my secrets, not that I could hide anything from him if I tried. 

“So,” Evan grinned, sitting on the edge of my bed, holding out his phone. “I was flirting with this girl, but she turned me down because she’s a lesbian. Which is understandable, but- I told her I know a gal with the same personality as me who’s always complaining about being single. Here’s her photo, and if you want, I can give you her number.”

I laugh. “I don't need you to play wingman for me, I can get all the girls I want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Evan shook his head in disbelief.

“Hey! You’re just as single as I am, dude. Leave me alone.”

“I’m trying to help you Riley.” Evan laughed. “Do you want the number or not?”

“...yes.”

so, no g/t this chapter, bc *worldbuilding* n shit, but uh, thanks for joining me!  wanna be on a taglist? lmk! all feedback is appreciated, go drink water!

[kazziesangel-moved]

Typical match, untypical post-match confessions

Summary: It was a typical match for Ashe with their best friend & crush. What wasn't typical about it though was what happened after the match

Word count: 1930

Genre: Slight angst with happy ending/hurt & comfort (to some extent)

Warning: (Probably) OOC characters

"Of course it’s this map. Can the hunters stop putting in complaints so we wouldn’t get stuck here..”

Hearing Luca quietly grumble on how he hated Lakeside, the map they were on for their match, Ashe put a hand on his shoulder. The two had queued up together to piss off the hunter like they normally do (and most of their matches were successful in that case) but Lakeside was the worst for pissing off the hunter due to the map’s size and they both knew that. Despite that, the well-known kiter still kept a smile on their face.

“Even if it’s this shitty map, we can still piss off the hunter. Just leave the kiting to me!”

“Yeah well, if you get chaired don’t come crying to me to save you” Although that would seem malicious to anyone else, Ashe could still see the slight smirk on his face indicating he was partly joking and they rolled their eyes before lightly nudging Luca’s side. 

“Oh I won’t-though we both know you’d save me anyways cause you love me.” Noticing Luca get a bit flustered, Ashe mimicked his smile half-heartedly and couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as said prisoner lightly shoved them, gesturing for them to go before getting to work decoding the cipher they were bantering near. 

All the kiting-loving survivor could do was laugh as they ran off to find the hunter. Decoding was never their speciality and they knew that (especially since they got chaired cause they fell asleep out of boredom while decoding the last match they tried to decode) but pissing off the hunter was something they could do all too well. 

Luckily for said kiter, it didn’t take too long to find the hunter. Hiding behind a rock near the hunter, they had a mischievous look in their eyes. The hunter this round? Luchino. Although he was hard to kite sometimes since he could always jump over the pallets, he was also the easiest to piss off much to the survivor’s amusement. 

Quietly tapping their belt and feeling the flare gun that they had gotten from a chest, the mischievous look in Ashe’s eyes only got bigger and they grabbed the gun, getting out of their hiding spot disappointed the hunter didn’t notice their right away. However they weren't too bothered since they knew exactly how to change that.

Pointing the gun at Luchino’s back, the kiter let out a loud enough laugh to get him to turn around and glare then immediately pulled the trigger, sending the flare charging right into Luchino’s face. Most would’ve ran away as soon as they flare-gunned the hunter but Ashe spent way too much time trying to find him to run away like that.

“Sup Luchibitch?” Hearing a growl out of the reptilian’s mouth, Ashe smirked and ran in the opposite direction. As they heard rapid footsteps behind them, they let out a cheerful laugh at how the match was now way more exciting as they vaulted over a few windows and pallets to get to their favorite kiting spot on the map. Normally the map they were on was shitty for kiting but Ashe knew exactly how to kite, or at least how to make the kiting entertaining. 

Hearing the sound of a finished cipher nearby as they managed to bait Luchino to the boat, they let out a quiet sigh in relief knowing they wouldn’t be leading him to anyone and quickly dodged an attack as they navigated up to the boat deck. Stopping right near the hole in the boat that led to the lower level, they stepped closer to it and said nothing, waiting for Luchino to strike.

Not to Ashe’s surprise, he took the bait and they backflipped down the hole they were near. Hearing the reptilian hunter swear above them, they ran out of the boat towards a nearby pallet and all they could do was smile, satisfied that the kiting session was being entertaining instead of a bore this time around.

Although they had heard a few ciphers pop already, Ashe grumbled as they really wished they knew how many were left. They spared a quick glance around, not surprised they were near the exit gate considering somehow their kites always led to being near one of the gates. What did surprise Ashe whatever is that they noticed Luchino was gone. Normally he chased the kiter the whole match whenever they pissed him off. 

The shock didn’t get to last long however when they heard a thud behind her and a mocking laugh. Quickly turning around, Ashe managed to dodge the knife that the hunter had with him. Backing away to prepare to run, their foot collided with something and they ended up tripping backwards, falling right over the pallet that was downed near them and twisting their ankle in the process.

Hearing the siren indicating the exit gate was active, Ashe didn’t even try to move as the hunter looked down on her with an agitated look in his eye and the knife spinning in his hand. Instead, all Ashe did was smirk up at him to piss him off more and they kept that smirk even when the hunter made his move to attack. 

However, Luchino didn’t get the chance to attack as he quickly got distracted by the sound of the exit gate he & the wounded survivor were near. Although the reptilian managed to quickly brush off the distraction, he froze as he felt like he was getting electrocuted as a jolt of electricity hit him. 

Knowing of only one survivor that could essentially electrocute people, Ashe smirked as the same survivor they were thinking of ran over from behind the hunter and picked the injured kiter up, running out of the gate. Although the survivor that had saved Ashe was amused at their ramblings on how the kiting went, he was also agitated for a reason only said survivor knew and he kept quiet until he & the injured survivor in his arms got back to the manor.  

~Time Skip~

“Alright so everything seems fine other than you need to take it easy and no matches for about a week” Ashe quietly grumbled at the thought of no matches for a week but they merely smiled and nodded and left the infirmary as soon as the doctor gave them the okay. They were used to injuries like this so that wasn’t their biggest concern. 

What they were concerned about was the survivor that had shut themselves in their room immediately after getting Ashe to the infirmary. Normally the two celebrated their post match victories so the former shutting themselves out was concerning even if they did know where said survivor was. 

Arriving at the door to one of the bedrooms in the manor, Ashe heard a loud noise that sounded like electricity. Not thinking much of it, they knocked-pausing for a second when they heard the noise abruptly stop.

“Hey Luca, can I come in?” They were about to knock again after no response when the door suddenly opened and although Ashe sent a light smile Luca’s way, they could tell he was off and seemingly way more tired than usual. 

Getting the signal that it was okay to go in, they walked in and closed the door behind him as Luca sat on the edge of his bed tinkering with something. They didn’t really know what to say so they quietly sat on the bed near him, being careful to not put too much weight on the ankle they sprained earlier. It was silent other than the noises coming from the invention Luca was working on but Ashe didn’t mind-it was a comfortable silence for them and they grew to love it. 

“Luca are you okay? Seriously. You hardly ever shut yourself out away from me. Whatever I did I’m sorry” 

“..You should be. I know I said to get something done but that didn’t mean kite the hunter where no one could find you then get injured and almost bleed out!” The worried tone in Luca’s voice as well as the sudden loudness surprised them but Ashe kept quiet and gently took the invention out of the prisoner’s hands and moved it aside so he wouldn’t accidentally break it as he ranted. 

At a loss for words for the 2nd time since entering the inventor’s bedroom, Ashe quietly reached over and gave Luca’s hand a gentle squeeze in hopes to calm him down. 

“I appreciate the worry but I get injured all the time kiting. It comes with the territory.. And besides, I kited him for 5 ciphers and we got the win so maybe it’s just me but i don’t see the issue.” Feeling Luca shaking, Ashe quickly started to realize that was the wrong thing to say and she braced for more of him being loud but that never happened.

“The win isn’t what’s important. I legitimately thought Luchino was going to actually kill you when I finally found you all the way across the map.” Noticing tears form in Luca’s eyes, Ashe squeezed his hand tighter. Seeing the tears definitely caught Ashe off guard but it hurt to see them at the same time. Their biggest concern though was comforting the prisoner in front of them who seemed to have no problems with the kiter’s attempts to comfort him. 

“Sorry I didn’t ping you or anything.. Even if I don’t understand why you’re worried about that-” Before they could continue, Luca’s eyes got a serious look to them which concerned Ashe but instead of yelling or doing anything similar, the prisoner merely gripped both of their shoulders making Ashe look him right in the eye

“I’m worried about stuff like that when it comes to you cause I love you dammit!” At the confession, time seemed to freeze as both Ashe and Luca were processing what the prisoner had just blurted out. After he realized what he said, Luca let go of Ashe’s shoulders and quickly grabbed the invention he was working on just so he’d have something to keep him from getting restless. 

Nervously toying with the invention, he ended up missing the smile that fell on Ashe’s face as they got closer to him, cupping his cheeks in their hands before giving them a quick peck on the lips. 

“I.. you just kissed me..Why?” Picking up on the confused look in Luca’s eyes, Ashe didn’t say anything and simply leaned in to give him another kiss, slightly tilting their head before their lips connected. Noticing Luca even more confused when they pulled away for the second time, their smile got bigger as they kissed his forehead. 

“I kissed you because I love you too” At Ashe’s confession, Luca grinned and tackle-hugged them, grinning even more when they hugged him tight and even started playing with his hair. The fact that they were now seemingly cuddling on his bed did fluster the prisoner a bit but at the moment he was too happy he had his feelings returned to care. He didn’t get flustered for long though since both either of them knew it, they were out like a light snuggled in each other’s embrace. 

[bigskydreaming]

So I’ve been going through all my old Scrivener files and rounding up all the various fics and updates I’m planning on queuing up to post during the month/however-the-fuck-long I’m bedridden after surgery in a couple weeks. Which includes Teen Wolf as well as Batfics, FYI. 

Anyway, came across this old WIP that I never ended up posting because I ultimately thought it felt too similar to both Where Wild Things Are and Lightning Crashes, just in different ways....not enough that any of them were derivative of each other, but enough that I wasn’t super inspired to continue writing it because the vibe I was going for with it, I was already getting from writing those other two fics.

But I still liked it and think there was some good stuff there, so what the hell. Here’s an opening from a never-planning-on-finishing-it Scallison AU, where things diverged from canon right after the Hale fire six years pre-pilot, and there was a different-from-canon McCall pack at war/trying to survive Peter’s pack in its attempts to stamp theirs out. 

The Scallison part starts out in the vein of the ABC show Revenge, where Scott’s initially just trying to keep an eye on the hunters in town/figure out where the Argents land in all of this, but then, y’know. The feelings happen.

Anyway, it was chock full of my favorite TW writing tropes - runaway/long lost Scott, pack politics, side characters turned main characters, scheming, double-dealing, Scott Is A Goddamn Genius and No I Do Not Accept Constructive Criticism On This Matter For It Is Wrong....you know, my usuals.

I did have a pretty extensive outline/summary for the rest of the fic and my plans for it, that I can post if there’s any interest in reading that and seeing where this was going. *Shrugs* Just let me know.

WHAT THE FIRES LEFT BEHIND

Scott McCall came home on a Tuesday.

For Allison, that didn’t mean much at first.  Her only context for the mass text was the bemused quirking of Lydia’s lips and a rather underwhelming ‘Huh.’ Then a shrug and a flick of her hair, and her best friend by default returned to ruffling through the Macy’s clearance rack with a vengeance.

“Awful. Grotesque. Needs to be set ablaze, immediately - ”

Allison nodded to herself and bore continued witness to Lydia’s evisceration of every hack designer of every fashion atrocity present, though sadly, the novelty of that had long since worn off. It was 7 pm on a school night. They’d been scouring the mall for something to meet Lydia’s approval for three hours already, and Allison did have trigonometry homework she could be torturing herself with instead, so….

Tough call. Hard choices had to be made. Allison steeled herself for battle and called Lydia Martin on her bullshit.

“Why are we here again? You hate Macy’s, and you absolutely despise clearance items.”

“I know that, and you know that.” Lydia emerged from a forest of polyester blouses wearing a look of disdain that had a ph level that would put any acid in the school’s chem lab to shame. “But I’m trying to see if I can find something here to start a trend with anyway.  Call it…a social experiment.”

“Hmm.” Allison nodded again thoughtfully. Briefly, she considered mercy. But she had just wasted three hours of her life. And mercy wasn’t really the Argent family way. 

She pulled the trigger. “You sure its not called Daddy cut your spending limit?”

Her melodrama-prone friend threw her hands up as if to express the whole world had gone mad and nothing made any sense. “It’s like he’s not even trying to buy my affection anymore!”

Allison coughed into her hand to smother a giggle. Being able to so easily rile up her friend when all others’ attempts dashed themselves harmlessly upon Her Majesty’s porcelain mask of perfection? Still her favorite sport next to archery. But certain social norms must be respected. One didn’t openly mock a friend in such obvious distress. She quickly changed the subject. For Lydia’s sake, really.

“So who’s Scott McCall?”

Lydia paused midway through working herself up to a truly tickets and popcorn-worthy rant, thrown by the sudden segue. “What?”

Allison waved her phone, flashing the mass text Danny had sent out to pretty much everyone in the Beacon County zip code.

“Scott McCall’s back. He just walked into the Sheriff’s Station. Stiles saw him himself,” she read out loud. “Who’s Scott McCall?”

“Oh. That.” Lydia tore her horrified gaze away from a leopard print mini-skirt and shrugged. “He’s this guy from our class who disappeared seven years ago. You know that Dunbar kid’s stepmom, Melissa? It’s her son.”

“Wait, seriously? And he’s our age? How have I never heard about this before?”

“I don’t know, Allison,” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Maybe because normal people don’t talk about things that depress them? It was a long time ago anyway.”

“I can tell it had a real effect on you,” Allison said, with just a touch of acid herself.

“I’m in the midst of a personal financial crisis currently. I’ll care when its over. Besides, its not like anyone has any details yet. Pointless gossip is for the peasants.”

“So what happened anyway?” Allison asked. Lydia shot her a look and she smiled innocently. “What? I’m comfortable with my peasant status. And I’ve lived here almost two years now and never heard a word about this. How can I not be curious?”

“Well this was an utter waste of time,” Lydia said under her breath as she gingerly replaced a sequin-studded monstrosity back on the rack, seemingly preoccupied once more. Or possibly just flat-out ignoring her. 

The menace of the malls then raised her eyes to the ceiling as if despairing at the world at large, heaved a sigh that was practically a soliloquy unto itself, and ran her fingers through her hair in some kind of ritual of self-composure. 

Once she’d observed the proper formalities for conceding her quest was officially a failure - at least, Allison was pretty sure that’s what she was doing, though she’d rather not commit to that, given that some of the intricacies of her friend’s habits still eluded her grasp - Lydia finally slung her purse over her shoulder and set off towards the exit with an imperious wave of her head. 

It was only when her brisk walk stalled out while waiting for the garage elevator that Her Highness deigned to address the lowly commoner’s curiosity. 

Allison just sighed internally. She’d long since made her peace with her friend’s little power games. They were entertaining as often as they were exasperating, so it was sort of a pick your battles type situation, and Allison preferred to err on the side of not waking the beast beneath Lydia’s deceptively dainty exterior.

“You know about the Hale fire, right?” Lydia asked.

Allison nodded. It wasn’t an everyday topic of conversation by any means, but it had come up at least once or twice since her family moved to Beacon Hills two years prior. Talk of the tragedy had even made an appearance in her own home, in a couple of muffled shouting matches between her parents that she’d only caught bits and pieces of.

“Yeah, my Aunt Kate actually lived around here back then. That was the fire that killed that whole family, right?”

“Right. So it was pretty much right around that same time. Scott went missing just a few days after. A lot of people even wondered if there might have been a connection, there were rumors the fire was arson, I don’t know. It was a whole thing, and we were only ten at the time, you know? Anyway, Scott’s dad was this hotshot FBI agent. There were search parties for like two months, but they never found a body or anything. Most people eventually figured it probably had something to do with one of his dad’s cases.”

“And now he’s back,” Allison prodded when Lydia lapsed into silence. The smaller girl just chewed on her lower lip, staring at the wall of the garage almost pensively.

“And now he’s back,” she echoed with a distracted nod of her head.

“That’s....interesting,” Allison offered tentatively. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the mood that had fallen over her friend, like a spell had settled upon her the moment she’d actually stopped and reflected on her memories of the events in question. 

It seemed somewhat conspicuous to her that Lydia made no mention of who Scott was beyond just the victim of some strange small-town mystery, and so she was uncertain just how cautiously she needed to tread here. Had they been childhood friends? Mere acquaintances? Something else, likely as baffling and unexpected as most things about Lydia Martin tended to be?

But the born and raised Beacon Hills native just shrugged one shoulder listlessly and twirled a strand of strawberry-blond hair around a finger.

“It’s something,” she said at last. The elevator arrived at their level with an almost cheerful-sounding ding that was at odds with the somber mood they stood draped in. Lydia shook herself, a full body kind of motion not unlike a dog drying itself off.

“Are you coming?” She tossed over her shoulder at Allison, sounding almost exasperated, as though she hadn’t been the one just standing there staring at the wall for a good ten seconds after the elevator doors had slid open.

Allison sighed and shook her head, but she held back any retort and instead simply followed her friend down into the lower levels of the garage. Now was not the time to pursue...whatever that whole thing had been, just now. 

Lydia Martin had just unwillingly displayed an emotional reaction in front of another person. It was too dangerous to prod for further weak spots in her armor without letting at least a day or two pass first.

The self-styled Queen of Beacon Hills had relieved commoners of their heads for lesser offenses than that.

[wistfulcynic]

Words Unspoken 1 / 2

Part, um... *counts on fingers* ... part seven of Secret Things. This one featuring roommates and a metric fuck-ton of mutual pining, and problems that wouldn’t even exist if these two would just say what’s in their hearts. But OF COURSE THEY WON’T. Not while sober, anyway.

Summary: Emma and Killian have been best friends for five years, roommates for three, and in love with each other since the moment they met. Their timing is awful and their communication even worse, until Killian takes a drastic step that finally forces them to talk about their feelings. 

Words: 4.6k

Rating: T (for now)

On AO3

(This is a WIP from a while ago that I kinda didn’t plan to post, so not tagging anyone. But there will be a chapter two, so give me a shout if you’d like a tag for that.) 

Chapter One: 

Emma stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen, heading half-blindly in the direction of the coffeemaker. She grunted when she collided with a tall figure who was already there, pouring herself a cup. Emma winced as she spat long, curly hair out of her mouth and tried to focus her sleepy eyes. 

“Ugh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” 

Milah gave her a tight smile. “Killian and I were at Antonio’s last night, and we had a bit too much to drink. Here is closer than my place.” 

“Makes sense.” Emma scooted around the taller woman to get to the cupboard, pulling out her coffee cup and filling it as Milah watched. Wordlessly, she handed Emma the milk. 

“Um. Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Milah stepped back and gave her an assessing once-over. Emma tried not to squirm, tried not to think about the tangled mess of her hair or what her face must look like. She hadn’t bothered to wash her makeup off last night, had barely even got her contacts out before she fell asleep. Raccoon eyes surrounded by thick-rimmed glasses was probably not a great look. Milah on the other hand looked fantastic, cool and elegant, her curly hair perfectly tamed despite the early hour. Emma wondered snarkily if she’d be able to pull that off by the time she was Milah’s age. 

“Late night?” Milah asked. 

“Just work.” Emma sipped her coffee, wishing the woman would just go back to Killian’s room and leave her in peace. 

Or as much peace as she could hope for when she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what Milah and Killian were doing behind his door. At least when they went to Milah’s she could put it out of her mind. 

Well, almost out. 

“Mmm,” said Milah as the kitchen door opened and Killian appeared. He also had messy hair and tired eyes but on him they looked good, rumpled and sexy. He was so goddamn unfair, thought Emma, determinedly looking away from him, missing the way Killian leaned in to kiss his girlfriend before spotting his roommate, the way his lips deviated at the last minute to land on Milah’s cheek instead of her lips. Missed the flash of irritation in Milah’s eyes. 

“Morning, Swan.” Killian sauntered across the small room and leaned past her to get his coffee mug. His smile was soft and his eyes warm but Emma saw neither, keeping her gaze firmly on her coffee. “Late night?” 

“Et tu, Jones?” Emma muttered. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I’m gonna go drink this in my room.” 

“Wait, Swan,” he stopped her with a hand on her arm. Emma forced herself to breathe normally. “Don’t you want any breakfast?” 

“No.” 

“You need to eat something, love.” His voice was so soft, so affectionate. 

She hated affectionate. 

“I’ll have a Pop-Tart later.” 

“Something with some actual nutritional value,” he teased, his fingers moving gently on her arm. 

“Killian, leave her alone,” Milah snapped. “She’s a grown woman, she can eat what she likes.” 

This really should be a supportive, stand-up-for-the-sisterhood kind of moment, thought Emma, but instead she just felt judged. Let her eat what she likes, she’s a lost cause. Milah’s face was blank, her pale eyes hard. No sisterhood there.

Emma forced a smile. “I’m fine, really. Not hungry. I’ll have some lunch later, and I promise it’ll include something green,” she said, before Killian could interrupt. 

“All right, then,” he said with a grin, removing his hand so she could make her escape. 

--

An hour later Emma was functionally caffeinated and her face washed clean, and she was definitely not standing with her ear pressed to her bedroom door listening for the sound of Killian and Milah leaving the apartment. 

Okay, she was. But she’d had a hell of a rough night; her skip had been hard to locate and even harder to take down, and all she wanted was to spend the day vegging on the sofa and watching soothing television. Something she absolutely could not do with Milah in the apartment being put-together and disdainful all over the place. Emma knew she was a bit of a mess and had no problem with that aspect of herself, but she hated being judged for it. Especially by Killian’s wealthy-divorcée girlfriend who’d never had to work to make ends meet. 

She heard the sound of their voices, heard the front door open and close, then silence. She gave it another minute then ventured tentatively into the living room, surprised to find Killian there on the sofa wearing his pajamas and a brooding expression. He looked up when he heard her approach and a bright smile broke across his face.

“Hey, Swan.” 

“Hey. Did Milah leave?”

“Yeah, she had a pedicure or something. You want to watch some Bake-Off?”

“Very much.” 

Killian patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, then. Let’s waste the day away with mindless television.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Maybe a little. Though definitely not for green things.” 

He smirked. “Go get yourself a bloody Pop-Tart, I’ll get the show ready.” 

When she returned from the kitchen he had the show queued up and a blanket ready to tuck around her feet when she curled them under herself and snuggled against his side. He slung his arm along the top of the sofa, his fingertips brushing the sleeve of her shirt as she let her head fall against his shoulder, nibbling her Pop-Tart and relaxing into contentment. 

As they watched mild drama unfold within the pastel tent Emma let herself pretend, just for a moment, that they were together —really together— and that this was their life. Spending a lazy Saturday afternoon watching TV, after which she would allow him to cook her something healthy and they would eat it at the kitchen table like real adults and then they would go to bed. Together. She sighed. She wanted all of that, so damned much. 

Killian turned his head, his lips just brushing her hair. “All right, love?” he murmured. 

“Yeah,” she replied, pretending. “I’m fine.” 

They watched three episodes, then Killian hit ‘pause.’ 

“I should probably go get ready,” he said. “I’m meeting Milah for dinner.” 

“Okay.” Emma tried to keep her voice neutral as his words punctured her lovely fantasy bubble. It never did last long, that bubble.  

He frowned at her, something odd and sharply assessing in his eyes. “I can cancel,” he offered. “Stay here—” 

“No! You have a date! Go! I’ll probably call Mary Margaret and Ruby, see what they’re up to tonight.” 

“Okay, well if you’re sure.” 

“Definitely.” She gave him a bright smile. “Go.” 

She put on Four Weddings and a Funeral and refused to feel sorry for herself, even when Killian left the apartment an hour later looking heartbreakingly gorgeous. She’d take her cue from Kristin Scott Thomas’s Fiona, thought Emma firmly. If Fiona could spend years in unrequited love with her best friend and still be fabulous, then so could she. 

So could she.

--

“So how was your day?” Milah asked as they sat down at a cosy table in her favourite restaurant. A waiter poured them champagne without being asked; Milah was well known here. 

“Oh, fine. Nothing special, I just spent the afternoon with Emma. We watched some TV, talked a bit.” Killian smiled as he recalled it, the pure peace and comfort of sitting on the sofa with Emma pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickling his chin. 

Milah set her glass down with deliberate control and laid her hands flat on the crisp white tablecloth. Her lips pressed into a firm line. Her nostrils flared. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said. 

Killian frowned. “Can’t do what, love?”

“This.” She gestured between them. “I can’t keep dating a man who is so fucking obviously in love with someone else.” 

“What? Who?” What had he done, Killian wondered. Milah never swore unless she was truly furious. What had he done, or said, to set her off?

She gave him a look so dirty he immediately wanted a shower. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He racked his brains. “Do you mean Emma?”

“Who the bloody hell else would I mean?”

“But Emma and I are just—” 

“Don’t you fucking dare say ‘just friends,’” she hissed. “I’m not an idiot, Killian, and I’m not blind, though apparently you are both those things if you’re really unaware how you feel about her.” 

Guilt stabbed at Killian. He’d tried so hard with Milah. “I—” 

“No, don’t say anything,” she interrupted, making a sharp gesture with her hand. “I should never have let things go on this long, but I really liked you and I hoped if I tried hard enough to be what you needed you might forget her. But you never will. And I can’t keep being the second choice for my own boyfriend.” 

“Milah, please.” Killian took her hand. “You know how much I care for you—” 

“Yes I do. Exactly how much.”

“—and there’s nothing between Emma and me. Surely you know that as well.” 

“I do. I know you would never cheat. But you want to, and that might be worse. Killian, you should see the way you act when she’s around. You want her so much you can’t even hide it. You take every opportunity to touch her and the way you look at her…”

“Does she know?” He winced the moment he spoke the words, but it was too late to take them back. 

Milah looked stricken, just for a moment, then she closed her eyes on a sigh. “Well, that’s pretty definitive,” she said quietly. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

She shook her head. “You can’t choose who you love. None of us can.” She threw her napkin on the table and stood. “Goodbye, Killian.” She moved to go, then stopped, turning back. “Oh, to answer your question, no. She doesn’t know. She’s as much of a blind idiot as you are. You two fucking deserve each other.” 

When Killian got home Emma was still curled on the sofa, a pastel tent on the television screen and an empty carton of ice cream on the coffee table. He kicked off his boots and sat down next to her. 

“Are you watching Bake-Off without me?” he asked. 

“We’ve seen this one already.” 

“Oh yeah.” 

She frowned at him. “What are you doing home, anyway? I figured you’d stay at Milah’s.” 

He looked at her, at her eyes obscured behind thick-rimmed glasses, her hair in a messy ponytail. He could count the freckles on her nose and she had a trace of chocolate from her ice cream on the corners of her mouth. 

She was so beautiful, he thought helplessly. And Milah was right. He was in love with her. 

He knew he was, of course, he’d known it for years. But knowing was not the same as admitting. Admitting he loved Emma meant admitting that he’d spent years pining for things he could never have. It meant admitting that he’d fucked everything up, that he’d missed his chance when she finally broke up with Neal. Not wishing to be her rebound guy he’d waited… too long, as it turned out, and Emma had found her rebound guy in Graham instead. A rebound that had lasted more than a year, while Killian drowned his regret and jealousy in rum and a series of relationships that burned with intensity then fizzled once the initial attraction had passed. None of the women he dated could stand up to Emma, something he always knew and they soon discovered. 

Worst of all, admitting he loved her meant admitting that if he ever hoped to have something real —marriage, kids, a lifetime with someone who loved him back— he was going to have to let her go. 

He couldn’t have Emma and he couldn’t commit to anyone else while she was still in his heart. And that was the true root of his denial, the awful, heartbreaking choice that admitting his feelings would force him to face: accept that he’d always be alone or somehow get over the woman he’d loved for years. 

Her frown deepened, and he realised he was staring. 

“Are you all right, Killian?” she asked. 

He forced a smile. “Fine, Swan.” 

He could tell her Milah had broken up with him. She would be sympathetic, would curl supportively against his side and try to comfort him. He would put his arm around her, and she wouldn’t pull away. They would stay that way the rest of the evening, curled around each other watching soothing television then maybe a movie, and he would have to pretend he didn’t feel every brush of her skin against his in his very core. Pretend he didn’t spend every minute in her presence wanting to bury his hands in her hair and kiss her with every ounce of the passion he’d been suppressing for the past five years. Pretend.

And he couldn’t. Not tonight. 

“I think I’ll go to bed,” he said, standing. She caught his hand, the simple touch sending a jolt of feeling straight through him. He gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing to remain steady. 

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” she asked. Her expression was concerned, fond. He hated fond. But she was his best friend, and his feelings weren’t her fault. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry. 

He smiled, as reassuringly as he could, and squeezed her hand. “Milah and I had a bit of a disagreement,” he said. “But it’ll be okay. I’m just tired. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

She nodded. “Okay.” 

“Don’t watch any episodes I haven’t seen,” he warned her. 

She grinned. “Would I?” 

He wanted to kiss that grin right off her face. Instead he smirked at her as he knew she wanted him to, and gave her hand a final squeeze before heading to his bedroom. 

He pulled off his clothes and left them on the floor, uncharacteristically for him, but he couldn’t be bothered to hang them up, or to put on pajamas. He fell into his bed, pressed his face deep into his pillow and tried to imagine his life without Emma. Without the cereal bowls she left in the sink and the empty packets of hot chocolate mix on the counter. Her long hair clogged all the drains and she never put the DVDs back in their proper cases. She was always putting her feet on his coffee table and he knew she used his shampoo when she ran out of her own. She should annoy the fuck out of him; instead his chest squeezed painfully at the thought of never being annoyed by her again. 

He pulled the pillow to his chest and wrapped his arms around it. The thought of leaving her was almost more than he could bear, but he knew there wasn’t really any other choice. He had to give himself a chance. They could still be friends, he could still be there when she needed him, but he knew that for his own sake he couldn’t live with her any longer. 

--

It took a surprisingly short time to find a new place to live. The week after Killian made his decision Belle announced that she was going on sabbatical, back to Australia and do some research for her book and spend time with her family. She would be gone at least six months and needed to sublet her apartment, she said, and did he happen to know anyone who might be interested? She looked surprised when he quickly volunteered to take it himself but didn’t question him, not even when she handed him the keys and he had to press his fingers against his eyes to stop the tears.  

--

Emma had just slid some pizzas in the oven when Killian came home, looking tired and preoccupied as he had all week. Something was very obviously bothering him, but what worried her was that he wasn’t talking to her about it. He always told her everything, all the gory details of his life. Even things she’d rather not know. Like what was going on with his girlfriends. 

He’d always had girlfriends, for as long as she’d known him. A serial monogamist, she thought, that’s what he was. A soft-hearted romantic —though he’d never admit it— always looking for ‘the one.’ His relationships never lasted long, a few weeks, maybe a month or two before the breakup. But it was never serious, and Killian never truly got hurt. He would come home and collapse dramatically on the sofa, pour his heart out to her, mope for a day or two, and then move on. 

He’d been with Milah for six months, almost seven now. Far longer than any of the others, and the jealousy that clawed at Emma’s belly whenever she thought about the women Killian dated was beginning to get vicious. He seemed to be putting actual effort into making things work this time. What if Milah really was the one? What if Killian fell in love for real, and she lost him forever? Her chest tightened at the thought.  

“Hey,” she said. “I just put some pizzas in, if you’re hungry.” 

He didn’t smile. “Thanks, love, perhaps later. Can we talk?” 

Emma’s heart lodged in her throat as she nodded. “Sure.” 

Killian looked at a spot just over her left shoulder. “I don’t really know how to say this,” he muttered. 

Fear was curling in her gut now, drowning the jealousy. “Say what?” she whispered. 

Killian took a deep breath. “I’m moving out,” he said. 

The fear slashed at her and turned to despair. This was it, then. He was moving in with Milah. He was leaving. They all left. 

She nodded, concentrating on staying upright, on not collapsing to the floor and sobbing out her broken heart. “When?”

“Next week. I’ll keep paying the rent here until you can find a new roommate, but that shouldn’t take long. It’s a nice apartment.” 

“Yeah.” 

The oven timer began to buzz and Emma blindly opened the door, forgetting to put on an oven glove before she grabbed the pizza tray. 

“Fuck!” she yelled, yanking her hand back. 

Killian was at her side in an instant, taking her hand gently in his. He grabbed a paper towel and ran it under cold water before wrapping it around her burn, tucking the edges in to secure it. 

“All right, love?” he asked, his voice low and rough. 

She swallowed past the ache in her chest. “Yeah.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about her hand. 

“Don’t be. It’s fine. Like you said, it won’t take long to find a new roommate. Actually I think Ruby might be looking for a new place.”

“That’s good, then. Shall I get these pizzas out?” 

Emma shook her head. She couldn’t bear the thought of food. All she wanted was escape, solitude. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Nor I. I’ll wrap them up, shall I, and maybe we can eat them later.” 

“Yeah, maybe. I— I think I’ll go to bed.” 

“Aye, love. Sleep well.” 

“Goodnight, Killian.” 

Goodbye.  

 --

The weeks after Killian moved out were a blur to Emma. Ruby eagerly accepted his room, glad for a change after her ugly breakup with Victor, but Emma barely saw her. She spent every minute she could manage at work, volunteering to take the toughest skips, spending hours on stakeouts or days chasing them across state lines, driving herself to exhaustion until she could sleep dreamlessly through the night. Anything to keep her out of the apartment that felt empty and wrong without Killian in it. Anything to keep images of him living happily with Milah out of her mind. 

He texted her, of course, and she replied, pretending everything was all right. She’d gotten good at pretending. He asked if he could see her and she told him truthfully that she was busy. 

Weeks turned to months and still she drove herself relentlessly, waiting for the numbness to set in, for the heartbreak to begin to heal. As it had after Neal. After Graham. When it didn’t she couldn’t help wondering why, wondering if it could be possible that her heart had only been cracked before. If after everything she’d been through, in the end only Killian actually had the power to break her. 

Then one night David finally refused to accept her weak excuses any longer and strong-armed her into coming to the bar with him. To celebrate, he said, after she’d dragged in a skip they’d been after for more than a year. 

“Come on, Emma, I’ve barely seen you lately,” he pleaded. “Between you and Killian I feel like I’ve lost both my best friends.” 

“You haven’t seen Killian either?” Her voice sounded unnaturally high to her ears. 

“Nope. Since he moved out of your place he’s pretty much been MIA.” 

“Nesting.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut to drive the images from her brain.

“What?”

“He’s—” she cleared her throat. “He’s probably nesting. With Milah.” 

David’s frown was confused. “With Milah?” 

“Yeah, you know.” She attempted a casual shrug. “When people first move in together they tend to stay in. Nesting.” 

“Emma, you do know Killian and Milah broke up, right?”

“Wha— no, I didn’t know that!”

“Yeah.” David nodded, still frowning. “Months ago, right around the time he moved. He really didn’t tell you? I thought he told you everything.” 

“So did I.”

David pushed open the door to the bar and his frown darkened. “Speak of the devil,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of a familiar dark-haired figure, slumped at the bar with a half-empty bottle of rum at his elbow, misery in every line of his body.

Emma felt her heart clench. He must still be mourning his breakup, she thought, even months after it happened. Milah must have been really important to him. David went to talk to Killian but she hung back, watching as the two men had a fierce, hissed argument ending with Killian elbowing David aside and staggering out the door. 

As much as Emma really didn’t want to hear about his heartbreak over Milah, she couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain. Couldn’t bear to think how he must have been suffering all these months, alone while she worked herself into the ground to avoid him for her own selfish reasons. Guilt and worry churned in her gut as she turned and ran out the door, hoping to catch Killian before he found a cab. 

She found him outside, leaning against the wall of the bar, but before she could think of what to say he pushed himself away from it and took a stumbling step down the sidewalk. She darted forward and caught him before he could fall. He caught his breath sharply and looked down at her, trying to focus his hazy attention. 

“Swan,” he murmured. “Are you real this time?”

“I— what?”

He shook his head. “Just another dream. Must be.” His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her hard against him. “Good dream,” he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear him, tucking his face into her neck and breathing deeply. 

“Killian, what— what are you doing?”

“You smell so bloody good,” he whispered. “Have I ever told you that?”

Having him so close after so long was making her lightheaded. “N— no.” 

“I should have. I should have told you that, and so much else. Gods, love, I— I—” 

“You what?”

“I miss you.” He breathed the words into her hair, his hand a tight fist in the back of her jacket. “I miss the way you smell and your hair in the sink and those bloody rank Pop Tarts you insist on eating. I miss it all so goddamned much.” 

“Then why did you leave?” She choked. “David said you broke up with Milah months ago, so why—” 

“I had to.” 

“Why?”

“I had to give myself a chance to get over you.” 

“Get over me?” When were you under me? she wanted to say, but now didn’t seem like the best time to quote Friends. Killian was leaning heavily on her, his eyelids drooping, and she could see he was close to passing out. 

“Come on,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Let’s go ho— Let’s go to my place.” 

“Mmmmm,” he agreed, and let her steer him down the block and up the steps and through the door of their old apartment, holding him steady as they removed their shoes. Ruby’s bedroom door was tightly shut, her laundry piled high on the sofa. Emma figured she should just push it off and let Killian sleep there, but sometime during the walk home his hand had found its way beneath the hem of her sweater and the drag of his rough fingertips against her skin was making her shiver and ache, and he was murmuring into her hair again, words that sounded like gods so bloody soft and all she wanted was to fall asleep in his arms just once. Just for one night. Then tomorrow she would wake up early, nurse his hangover and send him home none the wiser. And she would hold the memories of that night close and secret in her heart and never yearn again. 

She hated yearning. 

She guided him through the living room and past the sofa, into her bedroom where he stood patiently, watching her with bleary eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off him together with his jacket. Her hands hovered at the waistband of his jeans for a moment, then quickly unbuttoned them and slid down the zipper, pushing them down until they pooled around his feet. 

Go for broke, Emma. 

She pulled off her jacket and sweater and shimmied out of her own jeans as he clumsily stepped out of his and kicked them away. Emma pulled her bra out from under her tank top then turned to look at him, swaying on his feet and fighting to keep his eyes open, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs enhanced by a sizeable bulge she knew he was too drunk to use. 

“Emma,” he slurred, swaying towards her. She braced just in time to catch him and guide his fall onto the bed but he grabbed her waist as he went down, dragging her along with him, groaning a bit when she landed on his chest but quickly wrapping both arms around her. “Don’t go.” 

“I won’t,” she said, “But the blankets—” 

“Don’t. Miss you.” 

“You said that already.” He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open much longer, she thought. He’d soon be asleep and she could—”

“Love you.” 

“What? Killian, what did you say?”

But his only response was a soft snore. Emma stared at him, her mind and heart racing. He’s drunk, she reminded herself. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. She tried to wriggle away from him to grab the blanket but he made an incoherent noise of protest and tightened his hold, pressing his face into her hair. Sighing, she stretched out her leg and caught the blanket with her foot, slowly easing it up and over them. Then she snuggled against him, rubbed her cheek against his chest and let herself pretend that this was real. 

Fuck it, she thought. It’s just a one-time thing. 

[callmesteve]

sneak peak at what i’m writing?

for real this time, sghlidugh. 

so, that post i just posted? yeah, i started a rough draft. here’s the first half! (not really any dami yet, sorry folks :((. also, note: i’ve made jon and damian the same age, i think there’s an age gap normally, but this works better for me.) 

do i continue it?

(fic below the cut)

Dick and Bruce go back in time to save Damian before he was killed. They end up in the wrong time. There’s so many ways it goes wrong.

Dick crosses through the portal to dusty air and ashes scattered amongst the ground. Buildings crumble around the torn up street. Markings all over the remains of Gotham tell Dick all he needs to know. Green and red spray paint curl heavenward in a sick imitation of Joker’s manic grin. When he hears Dick grunt, he whirls around, already gesturing to their belts. “We’ve hit the wrong time,” he says, voice carefully low. “I think we went forward, not back.” 

It’s just like Bruce said, before they left. Time travel is a fickle thing. There’s no right way to do it with the resources they’re working with. Plus, it doesn’t really help that ever since Bruce’s whole incident with Frankenstien, Tim’s been hellbent on not helping their efforts to get Damian back. 

God, Dick knew this wasn’t going to work. There had been too many variables in the beginning. Too many what if’s, too many maybe not’s. 

He just had to agree to go with Bruce anyway, hadn’t he? 

With a groan, he drops his head into the palms of his hands. Ever since Damian died, all Bruce could think of doing was bringing him back to life. He hadn’t been like this with Jason, but with the knowledge that Jason had managed to come back to life- Bruce took it and ran and somehow ended up coming across time travel. Their plan was simple. Go back to the fight that took Damian’s life far too early, stop Heretic before he was able to slide that sword through his little brother’s chest. They’d open themselves a new life where Damian lived and breathed and-

And Dick swallows a sob, fixing his domino mask to make sure it covers his teary eyes. He was just like Bruce, in the end. All Dick wanted was to wrap his arms around Damian one last time, to hold him close and breathe in that stupid strawberry shampoo Dick decided to buy him. Why wouldn’t he want to help Bruce with this? Dick and Bruce, although they both avoided the conversation, knew that Damian and Dick were closer than the title of brothers allowed. (Father and son fit better, Dick dares to think.)

“Should we stop by the Batcave in our time?” Bruce questions, as he fiddles with his wrist computer. While the actual portal-opening-thing-a-ma-jigs were attached to their belts, all the information they needed rested in their batcomputer’s archives, for Alfred to monitor over. “Or should we just skip to the next time we have queued up?”

Home rests on the tip of Dick’s tongue. They’ve only just started this time travel task, and Dick already feels weighed down by his grief. He’s still mourning, naturally. At this rate, he knows he’ll end up compromised by the time they make it to the time they’re shooting to find. All he wants to do, (besides save Damian and hold him again), is to go home to the manor, make tea, and cry as Mean Girls plays in the backgr-

“You’re not Batman,” someone scoffs, voice laced with a pout. They sound offended, almost, and- And Dick knows that voice. It’s older, sure, but- “It’s rude to pretend to be a dead man- and to dress up as someone who’s still around. I think. Technically. Okay, okay- Didn’t your mom’s ever teach you not to play pretend as dead men, guys?” 

Dick’s eyes shoot up, to a familiar little getup. The red cape, cropped so it doesn’t pass the knees, the ripped jeans still baby blue, the same old Superman t-shirt, long since faded. Beat up converse, double knotted on his feet. He’s a few years older and a whole lot taller than when Dick last saw him, but it’s all the same. 

Jonathan Kent stands before Dick and Bruce, hands folded across his chest. 

Dick still remembers the days that Jon and Damian raced around the manor, (and the penthouse, while Bruce had disappeared). Years ago, Clark had decided it’d be a good idea to get the two to be friends, given the fact they were around the same age. It’s just a shame that they never got the chance to grow up as complete heroes together. Him and Damian had been close- really close. Their time’s Jon was still torn up about Damian’s death. 

This Jon blinks as he takes in Dick and Bruce, before tutting an all too familiar tut. “I’m gonna have to bring you guys in to the base. No running away.” He purses his lips, regarding Bruce closer for a moment. “B-boy doesn’t like it when people do that. It always attracts the Joker’s attention, and we don’t need that.” 

Dick looks back to Bruce, and they both share a nod. No confrontation until Heretic- not unless it’s totally needed. That was their agreement. Besides, from Jon’s reaction of them, this time’s Nightwing and Bruce-Batman are obviously dead. It’s a dull thought, considering that Jon’s only a few years older. Dick can admit that he’s at least curious about who dawns the cowl now, though. Dick had done it last time- Jason probably refused to this time, too. Especially with Joker leading this whole thing.

Tim, then? He’ll be the smartest Batman there ever were, that’s for sure. It’s just a shame he had to do it so young. 

A pit forms in Dick’s gut. If Bruce, Dick and Damian are dead, there’s a big chance that all Tim really has left is Alfred. (God, Dick hopes Alfred’s still alive.) 

“We’ll go,” Dick says, raising his hands in the air. “You’ve just got a misunderstanding about us, is all. We’ll clear it up and explain it to- uh- B-boy?” 

B-boy could mean Beast Boy, really, but Dick’s pretty sure it’s just Batman. He’s confirmed as correct when Jon amends with, “Batman. He’s so uptight and serious now-a-days. We like to make fun of him- All friendly teasing, y’know- But- You probably shouldn’t- He’ll feed you to Ivy’s plants the next time she decides it’s time to swarm the city.” He winced at his own words, the nod to Ivy sending the conversation and joking cold. 

Dick has a feeling the new Batman might just be Jason. Prickly and serious could fit with Tim, but- Hey. Who knows. Grief and mourning do things to people that you can’t always explain. Time travel included. 

Jon leads them by the wrists after slapping cuffs on their wrists. They’re the plastic kind you can buy in toy stores for your kids to play with, but they’ve been modified and bulked up with metal, steel and tech. The locks have been changed from a key to a fingerprint scanner. When Jon’s fingers brush over it, the little screen beeps red. He clearly can’t unlock it. (The Bruce-influenced part of his mind thinks that it’s good- if he needs to, he can put a pair on Jon and not need to worry about him getting out. They seem pretty solid. Though, there’s always the chance that he could break out, Super-something’s always seem to surprise him.) 

“These are pretty high tech,” Dick remarks, more for the sake of something to say and to focus on, than to learn about the cuffs. Not that it��s not cool, or important to hear about. “How’d you guys make them?” 

“I’m not as dumb as I look,” Jon scowls. “I won’t hand away free information just because you think I’m stupid and easy to trick.” 

It’s a completely valid concern. Dick gets to work shooting it down. “We’ve been compliant! If I wanted to cause trouble, I would’ve already. As soon as we get to Batman, we’ll explain that this whole thing was a mistake and that he doesn’t have to worry about us! Or- Me, at least.” He gestures to Bruce. “He’s pretty shifty. We’ll be fine.”

Surprisingly enough, Jon gives. “B made them,” he half-beams. Tim then. “Only his fingerprint is recognised. Way too many times have we had traitors in our midst that free our prisoners, or just plain old teammates who are super gullible. He was gonna let me be one of the only other people, besides- uh- someone else. But.” He adopts a sheepish grin. “Stuff happened, I guess. It was really bad. I trust his judgement, though!” 

“If he’s good, then all power to you,” Dick grins back. 

Bruce hunches his shoulders. “What the hell happened to Gotham?” he asks, and Dick winces at his wrecked tone. It’s their city, to be reduced to ash in a few years time. There’s no point in asking the year instead, anyhow. Jon’s no older than sixteen now, no younger than twelve or thirteen. They can take a pretty good guess. “We were just here-” Bruce pauses, piling on an alibi fast. “-a few years ago.” 

Nice save, B.

“B always says a lot can happen in a few years! You’d be surprised. And- Everyone’s heard of the old Batman’s loss at the hands of the Joker and his Arkham crew. He didn’t die in the battle- He came close. Present day Batman took up the cowl while the villains reaped their spoils of war. Old Batman died pretty soon after that. Health complications, I think?” Jon hums. “I thought you might’ve been posing as the old Batman. I guess I was wrong then, since you didn’t know?” 

“I’m not posing as anyone,” Bruce grinds out. Dick chokes back a laugh, which goes sour as soon as he grumbles, “Fuckin’ Joker.” 

Dick steps over a stray piece of rubble on nimble feet. “See?” he whispers to Bruce. “You should’ve let Lil’ D beat up Joker when he had him in that damn room.” He scowls low, matching Bruce to a near perfect T. The Joker has messed with their lives way too much, at this point. 

Jon stiffens. 

Shit. 

The Supers have super hearing, and Damian’s still probably a sore spot for everyone. 

Just before Dick can question about Nightwing’s death, on rolls to a stop. “Close your eyes,” he says, tacking on a sorry soon after. Dick obliges. He hopes Bruce does too. Jon drops their hands, but reaches back a moment later. Something rolls open. He doesn’t tell them to open their eyes, so Dick keeps them close. Jon leads them forward, and immediately, Dick recognises the smell of the place they're in. Musty, damp. The Batcave. They’re using the cave as their base of operations?

Of course they would. 

“Hey, B-boy!” Jon yells, before saying, “you can open your eyes.” 

Dick does, expecting the same old vave. What he gets is something nearly three times larger. There’s more space in the center, lined with more vehicles that Dick cares to count. They’ve all got a reoccuring theme- Beat up, covered in spikes and neon green spray paint. Undercover vehicles, no doubt. The Batcomputer ahead has grown a few sizes, monitoring different sectors of Gotham and others displaying some of Arkham’s more dangerous ex-patients. Bane’s profile is marked with a deep red stamp, right over top his picture, that reads off deceased. 

The glass cases hosting the Bat-clan’s fallen uniforms has been moved, now showing Bruce’s old cowl, Dick’s Nightwing uniform, and so many others he can’t name. One’s nothing more than a brown one piece with orange stripes on the side, gloves and a mask. Towards the end is Damian’s old Robin outfit, shoved over there like it doesn’t even matter. It should be in the dead center with the rest of the Batfamily’s fallen members, Dick thinks, and makes a note to yell at Tim/Jason/Batman for it. Family should stick together, even if it’s only their old legacies that stay by each other's sides. 

The other platforms scattered around the cave’s walls are hard to see. There’s more than there used to be, all covered with discarded training weapons and dummies, with cots for sleeping. What an upgrade. 

“B-boy!” Jon tries, cupping his hands around his mouth “I know you’re here! We’ve got prisoners!” 

The voice that responds is low, older, but not overly so. It can’t be Tim or Jason- then who? “Then send them to the cells,” this Batman says. “Why on Earth do I-” 

Oh, Dick knows the exact moment that Batman sees the two of them. Is it really that big of a crime to dress up as Nightwing or Batman around here? Jeez. 

“Take off those damn masks,” Batman hisses, dropping from his perch atop one of the lower platforms. He’s- He’s tiny. Smaller than Jon by nearly a whole foot! “How dare you tarnish the fallen’s legacies like this! Did the Joker put you up to this? Harley? Catwoman’s not normally this cruel.” 

“We can explain,” Dick defends. Bruce gives him a grunt and that’s all the conformation that Dick needs. He tears off his mask. Bruce pulls down his cowl. 

Jon recognises them immediately, taking half a step back. “Mr. Wayne?” he says, soft. “And- And Dick-? They weren’t- You two weren’t imposters-? How did you survive? We saw both of you die-” 

Bruce steps up, holding out his cuffs to Batman. “We’re not your Batman and Robin,” he explains. “Not yet. We’ve come from the past. A miscalculation while trying to travel through time brought us here.” He waves his wrists. “Now, Batman. If you’d be so kind as to let us know who decided to carry on the cowl? You aren’t Tim or Jason.” 

“B-” Jon whispers, and it sounds wrong. “You should-” 

“I know,” Batman interrupts. He reaches out, pulling off his glove, and unlocks Bruce’s cuffs. He does the same for Dick, with shaking hands. Then, his hand snakes up to his mask.

“You don’t have to,” Jon reminds. 

“I know.” 

Batman pulls off his cowl. Glassy green eyes- for the first time in near months- peer right back at Dick.

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 14x13 “Lebanon” (300th episode)

in which i compare this episode to pumpkin soup, because I’m craving more Cas

03:30pm

all righty, thing is still downloading, and there’s a 720p version queued up so that’ll be downloaded by the time i’ve watched half. i have snacks, i’m gonna half close my blinds so i can see, but I DON’T HAVE HEADPHONES AGAIN which is the worst. why do headphones break so easily, that’s what i want to know. (just gotta pray there’s a good sound quality i guess. my laptop speakers suck)

...2 minutes left on the download c’moooooon

-

03:35

OKAY DONE!!!!

-

03:36

“dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days”

i don’t know if it’s dean’s little baby voice (HE’S MY AGE CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?? I CAN’T) or the laptop speakers or the video sound quality, but dean sounds like a kid in a 1980s disney cartoon, with that vintage prickle in my ears and i love it

-

03:38

okay look it’s super hot 'cause it’s summer, and my fan is on, and there’s cicadas... i think i gotta shut the window and turn the fan off aND SLOWLY ROAST IN HERE BECAUSE I CAN’T HEAR THIS PROPERLY

i’m 9 seconds into the recap u_u

it’s gonna be one of those days i guess

-

03:41

is that the monkey again?

yeah it’s the monkey again

-

03:45

dead black guy already????????????????????

really?????

-

03:46

are those kids meant to look like the kids from stranger things? because they kind of do. and the movie theatre as well

-

03:47

cas is in this episode, right??

if he isn’t i’m gonna scream

misha had a tv guide cover so maybe

-

03:39

every single one of these kids is cute and i’m offended

“weird sidekick with the trenchcoat” i am further offended, but also smiling

-

03:50

SHE GAY

SHE VERY GAY

-

the plaid though. she’s a dean mirror 100%

edit: i did doubt this for a second but nope, i was completely right

i mean, she drives the car as well

-

03:52

tHE IMPALA JUST SCOOTED OFF THE SCREEN AND I ALMOST CHOKED OH MY GOD that was hilarious

-

03:54

dean doing the puppy eyes is 

a) cute

b) FUCKING TERRIFYING BECAUSE THIS POOR WOMAN’S TRYING TO PROTECT AN UNDERAGE GIRL AND IT SHOULD NOT BE THAT EASY

-

03:57

the hand that popped out of the smoky cigar box

SUPER COOL AND SUPER CREEPY EW

-

03:59

dean: “this is like the best/worst thing that’s ever happened to you. ‘cause you love serial killers but you hate clowns”

ahahhahaha

-

04:02

sam: “are you sure you don’t wanna call mom, or wait for cas”

YES PLEASE DO BOTH OF THOSE THINGS ;A;

-

“michael out of my head”

HAVE YOU NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO ALL THE WISHES THAT GO WRONG??? YOU GOTTA BE MORE SPECIFIC DUDE. TAKING MICHAEL OUT YOUR HEAD JUST TAKES HIM OUT, YOU GOTTA KILL HIM TOO DAMMIT

-

04:05

john: “now you live in a secret bunker with an angel and lucifer’s kid”

he took that surprisingly well

 a little too well

probably part of dean’s wish that he takes it well

-

04:08

OH BOY

the face he made when he saw mary sdjgfd

-

04:09

ahahah dean and sam awkwardly leaving while their parents make out

dean kinda looked like he was gonna stay, lil bean

-

04:11

the fact dean was so adamant that he said he wanted michael out of his head, but then is now defending the fact he wished for his dad back instead

says a lot about what dean says he wants =/= what dean actually wants

-

04:13

john is much sweeter and more understanding than anyone remembers him (at least than i remember him, or could infer from all the stories about him)

i really do think dean brought him back nicer

-

04:15

i love seeing sam have emotions, it’s so refreshing

-

sam kinda looked like he panicked when john touched him aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

-

04:17

there’s a sign for “castle storage” in the background and i think about that sometimes. hill of a forty dogs or something??? i forget, it was so long ago

-

ALSO WHERE’S CAS

also switching to 720p now

never mind switching back, the sound was better on the lower quality video u_u

-

04:22

oh no, nobody knows them

IS CAS NOT GONNA KNOW THEM

OH NO

-

04:23

this universe-sam: *kinda smug* “god bless kale, am i right?”

I CRINGED SO HARD

-

04:25

OH BOY IT’S HAPPENING

(well SOMETHING IS HAPPENING)

-

04:26

zachariah: “c’mon, constantine”

cas: “i don’t understand that reference”

zach: “you wouldn’t”

i kinda missed this cas though. like. i’m not even mad

ONE PROBLEM: HE’S PROBABLY NOT HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE WITH DEAN

-

04:28

life goal of mine: have a sign like that in my house as decor

-

04:29

THE BACKWARDS TIE

-

04:35

okay first off i got so involved watching cas beat dean up (again) and dean being unable to stop him (D: D: D:) (kind of expected dean to croak “i love you” but um no....... that didn’t happen)

and then mary’s egg timer went off 

and it reminded me i’m hungry again so brb

well actually i’m not hungry..... but my body is shutting down because i need fat and magnesium to function which means i need to eat or else i can’t see, but same difference

-

04:43pm

okay i’m back

-

04:45

DEAN FINALLY HEARING HIS DADDY SAY HE’S PROUD OF HIM

-

04:46

john: “i thought you’d get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life, a family”

dean: “i have a family”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

]]]]]] I REALLY FUCKING WANT JOHN TO MEET CAS [[[[[[[

-

04:48

THERE’S SALAD ON THE PLATES HALLELUJAH

-

04:49

sam: “did you see them, at dinner, the way they looked at each other, they seemed happy”

and then there’s the way max looked at the girl she was crushing on

AND THEN THERE’S THE WAY DEAN LOOKS AT CAS LET’S GET SOME OF THAT IN HERE PLEEEEEASE

-

04:51

it stresses me out when people wash dishes but only rinse using the dirty water not fresh tap water

-

04:53

they’re about to send john back, he’s holding mary’s hand

all the rainbows behind dean’s head

betcha he’s thinkin about cas

-

04:56

john: “i love you both, so much”

dean...................

-

“i love you too”

OH MY HEART

he says it ......he never used to say it to anyone

-

04:59

YEEEEE

BUT ALSO THIS ONLY LASTED 0.5 SECONDS WHY

but also???????

TALL GUY = SAM

PLAID GIRL = DEAN

COAT GIRL = CAS

IS ANYONE ELSE GETTING THIS

WHY DIDN’T THIS SHOT LAST LONGER SO PEOPLE WOULD BE ABLE TO SEE WITHOUT PAUSING

CURSE YOU EDITORS

-

05:02

so....... that end scene where john’s like “i’m on my way back, i’ll see you soon”

was that meant to be in the past, 2003 era? the flip phone would say so, but his visible age kind of confuses matters

i mean i get that it’s hard to make someone look 16 years younger

but still

unsure about that

-

05:04

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm it’s over

i dunno

that was definitely a special and important episode, and i appreciated seeing this side of john, this is gonna make it way easier to write fanfic of him without the story ending up as a trauma survival fic

but

i was kind of underwhelmed

things i rEALLY REALLY WANTED that didn’t happen:

john actually reacting to dean saying they made friends with an angel (and a werewolf, a vampire, demons, etc etc)

john meeting cas

cas being part of that family meal (i get that the point was he was 2003!cas and not there, but still)

jack being in this even a little bit??

and as the story went on and reached the end, what it really lacked, for me, was a comparison where we can then see how john/mary & max/her crush = dean/cas...........and that just didn’t happen

i think it just ended too soon, really

and there was a lot more they could’ve done with the altered timeline, could’ve brought a whooooooooole lot back from past seasons and just made it a smorgasbord of nostalgia

i get that it was focused solely on john, which gave it an emotional core, so there’s not actually a problem there, i loved that

but it felt kind of dull and slow and....... soupy..........?

(i just mean. the emotional feeling in my brain as i think about it. feels like soup. specifically pumpkin soup. warm and spicy and goopy and nutritious but ultimately not very filling)

then again, if the pacing had been sped up, i would’ve complained it was too rushed. so there’s no winning, it was probably fine ?

i think my favourite part was the kids. i loved the kids. i love the lil gay romance going there. i loved the fact it was a destiel/team free will parallel (even if that part of it was OVER SO DAMN QUICKLY MOST PEOPLE MISSED IT). i loved the kid in the hat, he reminded me a lot of the actor thomas brodie-sangster, and also johnathan byers from “stranger things”

also enjoyed sam vs. the serial killer clown, and that whole aspect of hunting that we haven’t seen in a while, felt very nostalgic

also enjoyed 2003!cas, but was both distressed and frustrated by him fighting dean and then NOT GETTING ANY CLOSURE ON THAT WHATSOEVER. the point was to make dean and sam realise they really needed to send john back, so essentially, in some respect, they did choose cas being their friend over john being around, but that part of the overall problem was never mentioned at all, cas wasn’t mentioned at all after the fight

i’m just looking forward to coda fics that start where this episode leaves off, and dean talks to cas, because i am craving that SO FUCKING BADLY i can’t even express. like. it’s becoming maddening. i just. want. them. to have. a conversation

and the black guy dying at the start?? and the other black kid running away from the ghost and never being seen again? and besides the unnamed diner guy offering info on skip day, being the ONLY PEOPLE OF COLOUR IN THE ENTIRE STORY??? NOT COOL, not a fan >:{ (still better than it used to be, but soooooooooo many white people. so many. so. many)

anyway. um

so that wasn’t my favourite episode, but not because it was bad, but because it didn’t live up to expectations. i tried not to have any expectations (i really tried) but there were just... basic things this episode needed that i felt it was lacking (*cough* cas *cough*), and i can’t really shake that feeling

HOWEVER, having seen 2003!cas be the thoughtless drone that he was, i can appreciate just HOW MUCH character development has happened while he’s been around, which.... i suppose, is a sort of nod to his entire existence ???

anyway, 9/10, and a big ol shrug

but yeah. seeing john be kind and understanding was amazing (and completely changes how i’m gonna write him in my fics in the future, since he’s probably gonna be in the fic instead of just mentioned) and having him say he’s proud of dean and he loves him was just a super nice treat c:

sam being emotional is the best, too. sam confronting his feelings 10/10

i just. i want aaaaaall of this. but with cas. i really want that. so goddamn much. ;~;

[writings-of-bored-gal]

The Flat Above The Shop

Fred Weasley x Reader

Content: Fluff

Summary: After they’ve both finished Hogwarts, she goes to see Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes before it opens, but Fred as a surprise for her.

Warnings: Mild swearing

Author’s Note: This one has been in my head for longer than I care to admit so I hope I’ve done it justice. I’m sorry I haven’t been posting a huge amount but I’m on holiday at the moment and I’m not getting round to doing as much as I’d love to. I have loads of really brilliant ideas a few requests in the works as well as my on going series so stay tuned and thanks for reading kiddos! Requests, tag list and asks are open!

Masterlist

_______________

She stood outside the deserted shop in Diagon Alley. Most of the other shops were fairly run down and quiet as man places had become following the news that Voldemort had returned. she took a deep breath before walking in.

This shop had been Fred and George’s dream for as long as they could remember, and although now probably wasn’t the best time to open a shop, they believed that maybe now was actually the best time to open a joke shop. People needed the laugh more than ever.

“BABE!” Fred shouted as she walked through the door, running down the stairs and picking her up in his arms, causing her to laugh before she kissed him. She’d only gotten back from Hogwarts the day before, but after seeing her parents she made it her priority to go and support her boyfriend in his business.

“I’ve missed you.” She said when he finally put her down.

Fred looked at her, apology in his eyes. “I’ve missed you too, but I just couldn’t have stayed there, Y/N-“

“I know Freddie.” She interrupted him, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I’m proud of you, really.” A grin broke out on his face as he pulled her towards the stairs.

“So what do you think?” He asked her enthusiastically. She was turned to face the ground floor from the view of stairs. The large open space, chilly despite the warm air from outside, dark and dull.

“It definitely has…potential.” She smiled a little weakly. Fred put his hands over her eyes.

“Okay so it needs a hell of a lot of work.” She could her the smile creeping into his voice. “But imagine, everything is going to be brightly coloured. We’ll have a massive window display taking the piss out of You-Know-Who and it’ll be bright green. We’ll have a massive display of puking pastilles on the left with all the other skiving snack boxes.”

“It sounds incredible.” She said and he took his hands away from her eyes to wrap them around her waist in front of him. Now that she’d seen what Fred saw, she saw the space in a whole new light. It was going to be amazing.

“I’ve got to show you the best bit now.” He said suddenly.

“There’s more?”

“You’ll see.” He winked and lead her towards a door at the back, which lead to more stairs. Fred climbed them in front of her. He stopped in front of another door at the top and took a deep breath. She’d never seen him so nervous before. “You’ve got to use your imagination a little.”

“Okay Freddie,” She smiled, comforting him a little.

He opened the door. It was a small room with a little kitchen at the back. There were 3 other doors, but she didn’t ask what they were, instead waiting for Fred to explain.

“One of the reasons me and George liked this shop so much was this bit- the flat.” He paused and she nodded, queuing him to carry on. “It’s not massive or anything, but it means we don’t have to crowd around Mum and Dad for the rest of our lives. It’s got two bedrooms, one each, big enough for a double bed and the bathroom is pretty decent as well.” He stopped again, looking for some sort of reaction.

“It’s fantastic,” She kissed him softly. “I’m so proud of you, and it’s going to be amazing when it’s all finished.” She tried to be reassuring, but she couldn’t quite figure out why he was so nervous about the apartment when he’d been so confident in showing her the shop.

“We’ve already ordered a sofa, it’s blue, and Mum gave us some pots and pans that match as well. I need to look for pillows and things but I don’t really know what it is I’m looking for.“  Fred took another deep breath. He could feel himself rambling to her, but also couldn’t seem to stop. It was as though all of his dreams for the place were tumbling out of his mouth at once.

She was starting to worry, Fred was cheeky and fun but he was always fairly level headed. “Are you okay , Freddie? You seem a little neurotic. Shall I make us a cup of-“

“Will you move in with me?” He blurted out, shocked that he’d even managed to get the words out.

She looked at him dumbfounded. “What?”

He took her hands and smiled, at ease again now that he’d already managed to ask her. She continued to stare at him blankly.

“Y/N, I know we’re only eighteen and life is going to get messier, especially with everything going on, but if you’re here with me then maybe it’ll make a bit more sense. It’s a big step so I understand if you want to take time but living here with you would just be,” He sighed, taking his hands from hers and holding her waist to be closer to her, “the closest thing to perfect.”

She remained still, unsure of what to do or say, but when she saw his face, his warm brown eyes full of hope and unconditional love, her face broke into a smile that mirrored his and her arms reached up to hold his face in her hands.

“Of course I will, Freddie.” She kissed him softly.

“Oh thank, Merlin.” He breathed with relief, causing the pair to laugh to themselves.

Neither of them went home that night, instead sleeping intertwined on the unfurnished floor under a hand knitted yellow blanket, gazing out at the streets below them, talking about what the future might hold.

The world was bleak, the flat was bleak, but their hearts held enough light to blind the those in the darkness.

[dont-doubt-dopple]

Dorks with Pillows

pst. hey @mellowdreemurr . hey turtle wife 🐢💍. I FINISHED WRITING OUR FIC ARE YOU PROUD OF ME YET?!?! Either way I think it’s cute and awesome and while I don’t know what to tag this I’m just going to leave it here. Also, this is queued so Melly if you’re worried then no I’m not up at 3 AM to post this. But regardless, Enjoy! 💜

—

Writing was hard.

Melly wasn’t sure at what point she decided that this was the most productive way of dealing with the writer’s block that plagued her from writing Chapter 16 of Colors of Reality—aka the climax of the whole goddamn thing!!—but this was what she was doing. Screaming face down into a pillow with various writing utensils scattered around her. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but words in English weren’t working.

She sighed once more as she looked up at her pride and joy as well as her biggest frustration currently. The Work In Progress stared back at her, tantalizingly, and she went back to frustrated incoherent sounds.

“You okay, Melly?” Melly looked up to see Dopple across from her, a concerned smile dashed across her face. Melly shook her head.

“Writer’s Block.” She complained.

“Yeah, that’s not good.” Dopple agreed. The benefits of having a platonic wife who is also a writer. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“But I want to finish this chapter!” Melly whined, and Dopple sighed. She walked away, leaving Melly to stare silently at her WIP with an intensity that could probably cut diamonds. Maybe this could work. If she ...

Her thoughts were interrupted with another pillow made contact with her face. She looked up to see Dopple giggling from a distance, clearly the culprit. She had a third pillow in her hand, and a gaze that read, “Your Move.”

“It’s on!” Melly yelled as she rose from her position, grabbing one of the pillows and tossing it at Dopple. It was blocked as she started to run back toward the living room. Melly tried to keep a straight face as she followed suit, but the bundle of joy that was her beloved was hard to stay serious.

“Stop!” Melly froze as Dopple extended two mugs outward from the kitchen. “I have activated my hot chocolate immunity!!” Melly giggled as she quickly stole a peck on Dopple’s cheek.

“You’re a such a dork.” Dopple giggles as she put the two much down on the counter.

“But I’m your dork at least. Now, do you like anything with your cocoa? I’m personally a whipped cream and milk person, but I know some people also like it with tiny marshmallows.” Dopple opened the fridge, pulling out the whipped cream from the door.

“I ... uh, actually don’t like hot chocolate.” Melly confessed. Dopple stopped shaking the whipped cream container.

“I want a divorce.”

“Baby No!!”

“It’s too late!” Dopple cried, holding herself in dramatic fashion. “I cannot love a woman who does not love chocolate!!” To end the scene, she sprayed whipped cream straight into her mouth.

“Hey, I never said I don’t like chocolate. Just hot chocolate.” Melly held up her hands in surrender as Dopple placed a kiss on her nose.

“You are redeemed.“ She smiled, and Melly took the moment to look into her eyes. They were more green today, with the faintest bit of hazel. “Is there another hot beverage I can offer you in the mean time?”

“I’m good for now, thanks.” Melly declined, although she did help herself to a small slice of cake when Dopple wasn’t looking later. “But is that why I was dragged away from COR?”

“Actually ... no. I nearly forgot about the other thing. I’m an ‘ooh shiny things’ kind of person. Just ... C’mon!” Dopple grabbed Melly’s wrist and pulled her toward the living room. Pillows were piled high on the floor underneath several blankets. There was another blanket that served as a makeshift roof barely supported by two chairs and some clips. The lights were turned down low, so that the brightest source of illumination was the laptop sitting in the middle. “Welcome to la Casa de Tortuga Incómoda. Or the house of awkward turtle. Well, turtle awkward if you took it literally. Thank you Google Translate.”

“You built a pillow fort for us?” Melly asked as Dopple let go of her hand to fix one of the sides that was collapsing.

“Well, yeah. I remember there was this night we talked about it and I couldn’t get it out of my head. And I’ve got movies to go with it!!” Dopple reached under the blankets to reveal six DVDs, one for every Mission Impossible movie. “Pick your mission, if you choose to accept it.”

“You dork. How’d you get that one?” Melly said, pointing to Fallout. “Isn’t it still in theaters?”

“Yeah, but it’s a bootleg so don’t worry. Actually, do worry because I don’t know how the quality is. It could be anywhere from doesn’t work for more than 10 seconds to you can clearly tell it’s being recorded but other than that and the Spanish subtitles it’s fine. The Zootopia Bootleg we have at home is literally a straight rip off of the DVD.”

There was a moment of pause before Melly hugged Dopple, nearly tackling her to the couch. She was quick to kiss her lover, who needed a second to overcome the suddenness before kissing back. It felt like how they viewed each other: perfect, surreal, and awkward as all hell. They broke after a few seconds as they giggled. The DVDs were quickly forgotten about, spread across the ground from where hey were dropped in surprise.

“How are you ... you?” Words alluded Melly, but Dopple knew exactly what she meant. They had asked the question to each other thousands of time before in hundreds of iterations.

“Because you’re ... you.” Dopple answered, smiling as she leaned into Melly. Melly laughed once more as she pulled Dopple with her down into the pile of pillows. Melly quickly buried herself into Dopple, her head resting comfortably in the crook of her neck.

“I love you, Katie.” She whispered as Dopple wrapped her arms around Melly’s waist.

“I love you, Jhoyce.” She whispered back. “But, uh, we still have to decide on the movie.”

“No!!” Melly whined. “I want to stay like this for a while. It’s nice. Wait ...” Melly reached her arm out, grabbing a blanket and draping it over the two of them. “That’s better.”

“You know, we’re probably going to fall asleep like this if we don’t put something on.”

“I know. But I don’t care. There’s always tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

“Also, if we don’t fall asleep then let’s watch the new one.” Melly added. “I’m not sure which ones I have seen but I know I haven’t seen that one.”

“Okay, that’s actually one of the two I’ve already scene. So if I do accidentally fall asleep, it’s no big deal.”

“Dork.”

“At least I’m your dork.” Dopple said, before the two closed their eyes and settled in their comfortable and loving silence.

[moonchild-rise]

#22 & Yoonseok 💕😭

1-Hour Prompts: where I set a timer for one hour and what I write is what I write. :) (groups I’m willing to (try) to write for in the tag on the post linked to the ‘1′) 

#22 on the Mini-Fic prompt list: things you said after it was over

————————

The whole thing, this whole Hoseok dating thing, had been hard to watch. It had been hard to watch for awhile now if Yoongi was being honest.

Hoseok was his best friend, he loved him. He loved him more than he should. He’d accepted that a long time ago. Hoseok was the highlight of his existence and if you think that sounds pathetic, then you should be aware that Yoongi still hadn’t actually told Hoseok that he loved him. Like really loved him. Like wanted to hold his hand, kiss his lips, hold him close, take him out, lay in bed and do nothing but talk in love with him.

Even more pathetic was the fact that they did all those things anyway. Hoseok laced their hands together while they weaved through a crowd, he played with his fingers while they watched whatever movie they’d pulled up on Yoongi’s laptop. He planted lazy kisses on the crown of Yoongi’s head, against the corner of his mouth if he got too tipsy. He wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist and pulled him into his side when it rained, he shared his coat and his body heat while they waited for the bus. They went out for coffee at four in the morning, they got shitty food from the truck that parked down by the river just because they didn’t want to walk any further than a block from their apartment. They laid in bed with their legs tangled together and shoulders pressing, bitching about their lives and their jobs and school and the entire time the words that burned on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue were ‘I love you. I like you. I want you. Do you want me?’.

He never asked, though, because he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. Drunk Hoseok may stumble into their apartment and straight to Yoongi’s bed where he would worm his way under the covers and tuck himself under Yoongi’s arm. His breath would stink of beer and the kisses he would press against Yoongi’s shoulder and the junction of his neck were slick and open mouthed and innocent.

In the morning Yoongi would wake up alone with only the tiny marks Hoseok’s teeth had left behind when he got sleepy and a bit nibbly before he passed out.

All of this made it incredibly hard to watch when Hoseok dated.

And he dated a lot.

Hoseok was an attractive guy, obviously, you didn’t need to tell Yoongi that. He had no problem finding dates. The girls, he tended to take out and show a good time. They got all his affection. The boys, however, they always managed to snag his heart. And none of them were ever gentle with it.

Hoseok was a warm, funny, touchy-feely kind of guy, but for some reason that didn’t seem to transfer over to him being one of those people who fell in and out of love. He tended to guard his heart behind wit and a careful distancing if he felt like someone was getting to close. However, he just couldn’t seem to ward off the ones who were destined to hurt him the most. He would eventually fall, and fall hard. When he did, there would be no one there to catch him.

No one, that is, except Yoongi.

Tonight Yoongi had the whole metaphorical crash pad set up. He’d seen it coming for weeks. Hoseok frowning at his phone as his texts were ignored for the third day in a row. Hoseok slamming things around in the kitchen as he aggressively cleaned to stave off frustration after the fourth canceled date. Hoseok spending extra hours at the dance studio so he wouldn’t have to admit to himself that he’d be spending the night alone again.

When he’d finally managed to get his current love interest to commit to a night out, he’d been all smiles and the hope in his eyes was enough to make Yoongi want to barf up his own heart and eat it just so he wouldn’t have to feel like this. Hoseok looked so hopeful, but Yoongi could see the glint of the sniper’s scope from miles out. Hoseok was about to get shot out of the sky and for some reason he never ever saw it coming.

So Yoongi was waiting. He was waiting for the inevitable mess that would come stumbling through the door. He wondered how long it would take this one to do it. Would he wait for dinner to be over? Would they order dessert? Would he take him to the bar like they’d planned? Would he break up with him over drinks and a germy bowl of bar nuts? Or would he wait until the end of the night and break Hoseok’s heart on his own doorstep?

As it turned out, it was the latter. He hated this option the most, because he had to hear it. The only consolation was that, this way, Hoseok couldn’t go get drunk afterwards. Not unless he wanted to get drunk on the shitty cheap vodka stashed in the back of their cabinet.

Sometimes he did.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me goodnight?”

He heard Hoseok’s voice, coy and teasing through the thin wood of their apartment door.

“Or you could come in. My roommate won’t mind.”

There was a silence and Yoongi gritted his teeth so hard he could have sworn he heard them crack.

“Listen, Hoseok, you’re a fun guy. Like, I’ve had a lot of fun with you. But it’s just for fun you know?”

Ouch.

“Fun? Did you just say ‘fun’ three times? Did you say I’m ‘fun’? What the fuck does that mean, it doesn’t even sound like a real word anymore!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in anything long term and you seem like you want the whole ‘relationship’ spectrum. That’s just not my thing, you know?”

“Fine. It’s just not your thing. This was fun. I got it. See you never, I guess.”

Yoongi heard the scrape of Hoseok’s keys in the lock, the shaking and rattling as he fumbled with them, the frustrated huff as the lock refused to turn over and he released he must have tried to use the wrong key.

“Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll see you in class on Monday. We can still be friends.”

Yoongi could practically see him. The way his eyes would be shiny, the way he’d be biting his lip to keep the tears from falling, the way he’d square his shoulders before speaking,

“Fine, we’re friends. See you in class.”

“Will you stop saying ‘fine’, you’re allowed to be upset you know. I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way. You’re great, I just-“

Yoongi strode to the door and pulled it open. He grabbed Hoseok by the elbow and pulled him into the apartment. He fixed the guy standing there awkwardly, hands shoved in his pockets, with a lazy stare. Seyong, he remembered his name was. Hoseok had been excited to meet him. A fellow dancer, a few years older. He’d thought dating an older guy would be different. More ready for the commitment less interested in a quick fuck.

“Get out of here.” Yoongi mumbled, slamming the door in Seyong’s face.

He turned to Hoseok who was already laying face down on the couch. His shoulders shook and bit and Yoongi sighed. He hated it when he cried. Hoseok was a bit of a crybaby to begin with, but for the little things. The sweet things. Like puppies or his dongsaengs falling in love or his sister sending him a particularly beautiful picture of a flower she spotted on her way to work. He didn’t cry over his own misery. He squared up, he lashed out, he aggressively scrubbed and folded and smiled until it looked like it hurt his face but at least no one could tell that it was his heart that was actually hurting.

A crying, heartbroken Hoseok was a defeated Hoseok and a defeated Hoseok was Yoongi’s worst nightmare.

“Get up. Get out of those clothes. Let’s go to bed.”

Like he was on autopilot Hoseok stumbled to his feet and into the bathroom. Yoongi pretended not to see his tear stained cheeks and Hoseok pretended like his nose hadn’t just snotted all over the couch cushions.

Yoongi piled all his extra pillows on his bed and grabbed Hoseok’s favorite green blanket, the fleecy one his grandma had sent him two Christmases ago. He hooked his laptop up to the big tv that perched on his dresser top and queued up If Only so Hoseok could blame his tears on the movie.

Hoseok shuffled in with wet hair wearing last night’s pajamas. Yoongi hopped up onto the bed and pressed himself against the wall. He patted the empty space next to him and Hoseok flopped onto the bed. He curled up on his side and Yoongi pressed play before laying down behind Hoseok. He tentatively laid a hand on his hip and when Hoseok shuffled closer, he wrapped his arm fully around his waist. Hoseok laid quietly, watched Paul Nicholls try to save Jennifer Love Hewitt from a terrible fate, and finally let the tears fall near the end when they showed her sitting in the hospital corridor crying. He cried straight through to the end of the movie when she stood alone on the stage, smiling.

The credits rolled and Yoongi pressed pause, the dark room lit by nothing but the silvery light of white words on a black screen. Hoseok’s sobs had died down to more of shudder and Yoongi ran his hand soothingly up and down his side.

The silence felt suffocating. Yoongi opened his mouth to end it, even if all he could offer were useless platitudes.

“Hobi-yah-“ he said at the same time Hoseok mumbled out a watery,

“That’s just how it is, isn’t it?”

“How what is?” Yoongi asked, letting his fingers press a little harder into Hoseok’s skin, trying to soothe his tension away with gentle, repetitive pressure. Hoseok always did like to be massaged and petted.

“Even if you do find love, even if you love someone with your whole heart, you end up alone anyway. They chose something over you. Their job, their dreams, their family. And you can’t even be mad about it because of course those things are more important than you. Even if it’s not so dramatic as death, even if it’s just something so mundane like simply falling out of love, you only have yourself. And even then yourself is shitty and you can’t rely on yourself not to make things worse.” He was quiet for a second, let his words hand in the air. “Or maybe it’s none of that and it’s just me. Maybe I’m just not worth even thinking about choosing me over something else. Maybe there’s just something about that’s not enough.”

Yoongi sighed. He hooked his chin over Hoseok’s shoulder so that his lips were right next to his ear. So he could talk and not disturb the neighbors whose own bedroom was just on the other side of his wall.

“You criticize yourself too harshly.” He said gruffly, “If they can’t see your worth, they’re-“

“Don’t do that. Don’t say that crap that everyone always says about how ‘if they can’t see how much you’re worth then they didn’t deserve you anyway.’ It’s bullshit. It’s pointless. It’s doesn’t mean anything.” He sounded bitter. He sounded angry. It sounded wrong, weird, distorted the voice Yoongi had come to know so well.

Hoseok wanted sincere. He wanted words that meant something or he didn’t want anything at all.

Yoongi wasn’t willing to give him nothing.

He tried again.

“I have known you for three years. I have been your roommate since day one, freshman dorm. Have I ever told you how grateful I am? For every minute you’ve spent with me? I don’t…. I don’t know if I can ever repay you.”

He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He chose his words carefully. This was getting dangerously close to uncharted waters, here, underneath warm blankets, lying in bed with the line of Hoseok’s back fitting the curve of his own body so perfectly. The green apple scent of his shampoo tickled his nose, wafting off still damp hair that stuck to his forehead and the nape of his neck. Yoongi’s lips tingled with the sudden impulsive need to press a kiss there, where the edges of his hair curled over the little dip at the base of his skull.

His fingers pressed harder and Hoseok shifted, a pleased little grunt as some of the tension finally faded from his skin, urged away by the quiet machinations of Yoongi’s deft hands.

“Repay me for what?”

“Being you, honestly. I’m good with people. I’m good at networking and making connections and a good impression and all of that. I’m not so good at making friends, or maintaining them. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have a phone full of contacts and no one to call. You didn’t let me work myself to death. You made sure I had some fun.” He winced, fun, did he have to use that word? He hurried on, “I-I think that even if we were apart, even if it was years and year and a distance so far we couldn’t even count it, we’d still be friends. I wouldn’t ever chose anyone over you. You’re my best friend.”

Hoseok turned in his arms, suddenly, and then they were face to face. Hoseok’s eyes were still overbright, the weak light from the tv caught on the tears clinging to his lashes, but his gaze was steady.

“You’re my best friend, hyung.” He breathed, his hands coming up to tangle in the material of the oversized t-shirt Yoongi had chosen to wear to bed, and for one wild second Yoongi thought he was going to kiss him. His stomach lurched and his heart stopped and he realized with an agonizing clarity that he would have to reject him. That he couldn’t let Hoseok kiss him when he was heartbroken and hurting and looking for someone to comfort him.

“You’re my best friend.” He said again, as he tucked his head underneath Yoongi’s chin. One of Yoongi’s hands slide around Hoseok’s back to glide under the loose fitting tank he’d thrown on after his shower, to continue his gentle massage, while the other automatically raised to comb through Hoseok’s hair. Hoseok let out a shaky sigh that sent a scattering of warm breath across Yoongi’s collarbones. “The guys you date are the luckiest guys in the world. I would kill for a guy like you.”

Yoongi scoffed, thinking there wasn’t any real difference between him and the guys Hoseok dated. Yoongi had broken plenty of hearts, but it wasn’t a fear of commitment or a dedication to his job that caused him to break things off. It was the fact that he loved Hoseok. He loved him and no one could compare to him. He’d long ago resigned himself to being single until graduation. Until school was over and they were no longer roommates and he could put some distance between himself and Hoseok and try to break the hold he had over him. Hoseok would kill for a guy like him, but not for him.

Hoseok shuffled, sliding his knee in between Yoongi’s thighs, his hands still clutched in the front of Yoongi’s shirt.

The tv winked off, idle for too long, leaving them in an almost perfect darkness. The blackout curtains on Yoongi’s bedroom window blocked out all but the thinnest line of light from the street lamps outside. It shined across the room and reflected off the mirror on the wall above his dresser, illuminating the mess of accessories; sunglasses, jewelry, beanies, and scarves, piled in a tangle that made it hard to get ready in the morning but that he couldn’t ever seem to find the time to unravel.

He thought after a while that Hoseok must have fallen asleep. His fingers fill combed through raven hair and his palm rested gently on the small of Hoseok back.

Hoseok sucked in a shuddering breath, the kind someone took when they were drifting off to sleep and suddenly felt like they were falling. He turned his head so that his lips pressed against the pulse point of Yoongi’s neck.

“Do you remember freshman year….” He murmured, voice slurred by his approaching slumber, “When someone snuck that bottle of absolutely rank tequila into the dorms and our whole floor got wicked drunk and we paid the RA ₩50,000 not to call security on us?”

Yoongi smiled a little at the memory,

“Yeah, it was barely a month into school and we were all too chicken to try to crash a real party since we were underage but we were so impatient to start partying like ‘real’ college students. So we sat on the floor of our pathetic little shoebox of a dorm and drank straight from the bottle because no one had glasses and everyone was too afraid to go to the store to buy some because what if we get carded?”

Hoseok sniggered,

“No one gets carded for buying shot glasses, god, we were stupid.”

“Right? We were so stupid. And then Namjoon suggested that we play a game because he said it wasn’t a real party if we were just getting drunk sitting on the rug so we decided to play-“ he stopped, eyes widening.

“Truth or Dare.” Hoseok finished, the chapped skin of his lips catching on Yoongi’s throat as he spoke. “And at first everyone was daring people to do dumb shit like moon out the window or run to the bathrooms and back singing whatever shitty pop song was number one at the time but then Kihyun dared you to kiss me.”

Yoongi has forgotten about that. How could he have forgotten about that? Probably because, at the time, it hadn’t been a big deal. He’d just met Hoseok. He was his roommate. He was loud and obnoxious and made Yoongi pick up his shoes from in front of the doorway. He played music too loud and did girl group dance in their limited space when Yoongi was trying to study insisting that it was how he studied.

Kissing Hoseok back then hadn’t been a big deal. He was an openly gay man, Hoseok had recently confessed to him that he was bisexual, and he was attractive. Kissing him would be fun, he’d probably get some good wank bank material out of it, and then they’d move on.

But Hoseok had blushed and stammered and the vision Yoongi had held in his head of kissing his roommate, of making it steamy enough and sexy enough to make their classmates hoot and holler in drunken delight was lost to a fond eye roll and a quick gentle peck on the lips. He wasn’t about to embarrass the kid.

“You kissed me and it was the most g-rated kiss of my life. I’ve always felt cheated by it, especially after watching you make out with dudes at parties. Is it dumb that I always think about that kiss when one of these things blows up in my face? How I always go back to that every time it’s over? It wasn’t even a good kiss….”

He really was falling asleep this time, he must be because he was rambling…

“You should kiss me for real some time, Yoongi….. now that it’s over……”

———————

I hope you liked it, I posted it on ao3 as well ^_^

[revwinchester]

Just Another Tuesday

Summary: The reader falls asleep watching her favorite show and wakes up to a completely different world, just in time to help the Winchesters save Sheriff Mills.

Pairing: Sam x Reader Other Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, unnamed demons

Word Count: 4158 (The challenge said “try” to keep it around 3000… and I tried… and I failed)

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of anxiety and panic, major character/minor injury

A/N: This is my almost late and (definitely too long) submission for @impala-dreamer’s Titles are Hard Challenge.  This was not the fic I set out to write but the original idea I had turned out to work better as a Sabriel fic and this challenge was Sam or Dean x reader only so… there’s going to be another fic with a similar title but a very different story sometime in the future.

This hasn’t been beta’d or even really proofread.  I’m probably gonna do that later and update any glaring typos I see but I wanted to get this posted now because the challenge deadline is today and the masterlist has already gone out… oops!  If you’re adverse to typos (which I totally understand, I can be like that sometimes), maybe come back in a day or two to read this one.  I’ll remove this part of the A/N when it’s been proofread.

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Just Another Tuesday - 

“Tuesdays are the worst,” you muttered as you finally pushed through the door at the end of the day.  It had been an especially greuling Tuesday, at that, and you couldn’t wait to unwind in front of the television.  You threw your things on the table, promising yourself you’d put them away later, grabbed a snack and a drink, and plopped down on the couch.  You queued up your DVR to the newest episode of ‘Supernatural’ and pressed play, ready to escape into the world of Sam and Dean Winchester and whatever monster of the week they found themselves up against this time.  You had missed the episode when it had aired on Thursday but, somehow, you had managed to avoid spoilers so far, even on Tumblr, but you knew your luck was wearing thin and, besides, you wanted to be caught up in time for the new episode that was scheduled to air in a few days.

As you watched the episode, you found yourself drawn into the story.  A powerful coven of witches had been kidnapping local women for a ritual and the Winchesters were questioning a local who happened to be named Y/N and even looked a little bit like you.  Dean had teased Sam about how she had been looking at him and his lack of a sex life but the next morning they learned from the sheriff that Y/N had gone missing, too.  The Winchesters saved the day and Y/N and Sam shared a meaningful look but, ultimately, he went back to the motel with his brother.

Your eyelids were heavy and fighting to close by the time the episode ended and you were surprised that you had actually made it through to the end.  Walking to your bed felt like too much effort, especially after the day you had had, so you clicked off the television and pulled a blanket down from the back of your couch and snuggled in for the night.

When you woke the room was darker than you expected and you were warmer and more comfortable than you had any right to be considering you had been sleeping on the couch.  You shifted a little, intending to get up and make your way to your bedroom for the rest of the night, but you stopped, frozen in your tracks as you realized there was a strong arm wrapped around your waist.  The arm pulled you back into a very solid, warm chest and a face nuzzled into your neck as lips pressed kisses into your skin, causing you to tense even more.

“You regret last night that much?” A familiar voice asked, sounding hurt even as the voice’s owner continued to hold you close.  

You felt your body relax at the sound of the voice, despite the fact that you still didn’t know where you were and you couldn’t quite place who the voice belonged to.  Your brain was on high alert but your body seemed to be sure that you knew this man and that you would trust him with your life.  Your mind was whirring and it finally clicked where you had heard that voice before.

But… it couldn’t be.  He was a fictional character.

You turned to face the person with whom you were sharing a bed.  Long, shaggy, brown hair framed a familiar face.  Stubble covered his jaw and sleepy but still bright hazel eyes met your gaze.  “Sam… What am I doing here?”

Sam leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.  “Good morning to you too, Y/N,” he responded with a laugh before trailing his lips across your jaw.

You felt yourself getting lost in the moment until a pounding on the door dragged you back to reality - or whatever reality this was - and you scrambled out of the bed, wrapping a sheet around yourself.

Sam smiled fondly at you as he pulled on his underwear and jeans before answering the door, standing in the doorway and shielding you from whoever was outside.  He was giving you time to gather your clothes, you realized, and you scooped them off of the floor and darted into the bathroom.  

As you got dressed, you heard Sam talking to a few other people, all of whom had familiar voices.  “What the hell is going on?” you muttered to yourself.  Once you were fully clothed, you meandered back into the main room to find that Dean and Castiel had joined Sam.  You pinched yourself, realizing that you must be dreaming, but pain shot through your arm making you whisper “ouch.”  Suddenly, three sets of eyes were on you.

Dean looked back to Sam, an impressed look on his face.  “Sammy!  I didn’t think you had it in you!” he joked, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder.  

Castiel, however, continued to look at you, his penetrating gaze seeming to stare into your very soul.  The angel’s head cocked to the side like you had seen so many times on television.  His eyes were even bluer in person, you thought before banishing the idea from your mind.  This wasn’t real, there was no ‘in person’ happening.  This was a dream or a hallucination or something…

“I can assure you that this is very much real,” Castiel said, answering your thoughts.  He paused for a minute before adding, “You don’t belong here.”

The angel’s brusque words weren’t intended to be rude, you knew the show and his character well enough to understand that, but Sam hissed an admonishing “Cas!” toward him, drawing the blue eyes away from you as Castiel looked at Sam in confusion.  

“No, Sam,” you interjected, drawing all of the eyes back to you, “I think… I think Cas is right.”

Castiel’s head tilted again and Sam’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly but Dean’s reaction to your words was more guttural.  The hunter crowded into your space, forcing you to walk backwards until you were pressed against a wall and he towered over you.  “Who, or should I say what, the hell are you?  How do you know who he is?”

You were terrified.  You knew Dean would be reaching for the gun he kept in the waistband of his jeans or maybe for a knife but you didn’t have any answers.  None that would placate an angry Winchester, anyway.  You tried to shrink back into the wall, wishing that you could wake up from what was quickly becoming a nightmare as you saw the demon knife in Dean’s hand.  

“Dean, stop.  She’s human.”  

Castiel’s words made Dean take a step back but his face was still hard.  “Start talking,” he commanded.

You tried but no words would come.  You could feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes and as you struggled to blink them back, you finally managed to blurt out, “This isn’t real.  None of this is real.  You’re… you’re not REAL!”

Your shout made Dean take another few steps back and you allowed yourself to slide down the wall.  Sitting on the floor, you drew your knees up against your chest and tried to manage your breathing.  You heard the door open and close again, not sure if someone was coming into the room or leaving it, but you didn’t care.  You stared at your knees, trying to make sense of what was going on around you.  

Finally, a large hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts.  There was comfort in the touch and you looked up to see Sam crouching in front of you.  “Talk to me,” he asked, his eyes worried, “what’s going on in your head?”  

He gave you what could only be described as puppy dog eyes and you allowed him to help you to your feet and sit beside you on the foot of one of the beds.  Cas was still there, standing near the table in the room, but Dean was nowhere to be found.  

“Where’s your brother?” you asked weakly.

Sam smiled at you.  He was clearly worried but staying calm to help you keep calm, too.  “He’s picking up breakfast,” he told you.  You had seen every episode of Supernatural multiple times, so you knew Sam’s tells and you were sure there was more to Dean’s disappearance than that but you decided not to push it.  “What did you mean when you said we weren’t real?”

You took a deep breath and stared at the floor as you answered, not sure how Sam would react.  He’d probably think you were insane, hell, you were starting to question your sanity yourself.  “You… Dean… Cas… you’re not real.  None of you.  You’re fictional characters on a tv show.”  As you spoke, you realized just how crazy this all sounded but you couldn’t manage to stop talking now that you had started.  “I fell asleep on my couch.  This is either a weird dream or one of my friends pulled so many strings and called in about a million favors to pull this off.  Is this a practical joke?”  You looked at Sam.  “Please, please, please tell me if it is.  You can drop the act and I promise I won’t turn into a crazy fangirl.  As much as I love you two, I’m too drained to really freak out about being with Jared Padalecki and Misha Collins… and Jensen is right outside, yeah?”  Your voice was small and quiet as you spoke but Sam, or Jared, or Sam, or… having him smile next to you was helping.

The man - or angel, you really had no idea at this point - at the door stepped forward and touched two fingers to your temple.  Warmth flooded through your body and you felt yourself relaxing and calming down some, only for your anxiety to spike again when you realized what had just happened.  “I believe you’re from an alternate universe, Y/N” Cas told you.  “A world similar to ours but with a few key differences.  What’s the last thing you remember before you arrived here?”

You thought back to the night before.  “I had a rough day.  Tuesdays are usually pretty bad but this one was especially terrible and when I got home I fell asleep on the couch while watching Supern… watching my favorite show.”

You heard Sam’s breath hitch a little as you spoke.  “You were about to say Supernatural, weren’t you?” he asked.  “That’s why those names - Jared, Jensen, Misha - sounded familiar.”

You caught onto his train of thought almost immediately.  “The French Mistake,” you whispered.  “Except, that was just an episode of the show.  It didn’t really happen; Misha’s not dead.”

Sam grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.  “It happened for Dean and I, so I guess your world is similar to that one but not exactly the same.”

You nodded, following Sam’s train of thought.  “How are you so calm about all of this?” you asked before you could stop the thought from spilling out of your lips.  

Sam laughed and you wished you could bathe in the sound, almost forgetting your fear and confusion as you watched him.  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “it’s not funny and I shouldn’t be laughing.  It’s just, that’s not the question I expected you to ask.”  He looked at you like he was trying to figure you out before he continued.  “I’ve traveled in time, met gods and God, and I’ve been to a couple of alternate worlds and timelines myself.  Your situation definitely isn’t normal but it’s not as weird as you might think.”

“Well, thank Chuck I woke up next to the rational brother,” you managed to joke.

Sam laughed again and even Cas chuckled at your words.  “We’ll figure out how to get you home, Y/N.”  His thumb brushed over your fingers as he held your hand.  

You leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thank you,” you replied.

Dean came back, then, taking in your and Sam’s joined hands as he entered the room.  He didn’t mention it, opting to set a brown paper bag on the table and rummage through it, tossing some food towards Sam and then something to you, too.

You were able to snag what felt like a breakfast sandwich out of the air with one hand and Dean looked somewhat impressed as you unwrapped the foil that surrounded it.  “I wasn’t sure what you would want to eat so I went with bacon and eggs.  Figured I couldn’t go wrong with a standard like that unless you’re a vegetarian or something.”

You thanked Dean and took a bite of the sandwich, wondering why he was suddenly being so kind to you but deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth.  Over breakfast, you, Sam, and Cas filled him in on what the three of you had figured out.  Dean shuddered when he was reminded of the time he spent as an actor, but agreed that your world sounded similar to that one.

“I’ll pack the car and we can head back to the bunker to figure this out,” Dean offered as he finished his own bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich.  He was still eyeing you suspiciously but that could be because Sam was still holding your hand as much as it was because of your nearly unbelievable story and arrival and you tried your best to let it go as he left the room.  

Less than a minute later, Dean was back.  “We’ve got a problem,” he announced.

Everyone looked up at him.  He was standing alone in the doorway and you knew instantly what was wrong.  “Jody needs help.”

Now everyone looked at you, curious as to how you knew that.  Sam and Cas both looked concerned but Dean was looking suspicious and angry again.  “I…” you started, your voice trailing off.  You looked at Sam, finding strength in your favorite character who was somehow now sitting beside you.  “It’s the episode preview.  Last night, just before I fell asleep, it was the last thing I saw.  Dean came into the motel room and told Sam and Cas that Jody called asking for help.”

Sam gave your hand a squeeze and you both turned to look at Castiel as the angel spoke.  

“Did this preview give you any more information?”  He asked.  

All eyes were on you again and you wracked your brain to remember more of the 20 seconds you had been shown.  “They never give much information and sometimes they move so fast through pictures and clips that you can’t actually absorb anything…  Most of this one was you two in the Impala.  They briefly showed someone following Sheriff Mills but I couldn’t see enough to recognize him.”  Your eyes dropped to your lap.  “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Sam said, his hand coming up to your chin and tilting your face towards him, “you’ve already given us more to go on than we usually have.”  He turned to Dean.  “We’ll get her back home and then head out to Sioux Falls.”

“Jody sounded urgent,” Dean replied at the same time as you responded “I don’t know if there’s time for that.”

Dean looked at you with surprise but nodded in agreement.  

“I’d like to help, if I can,” you offered.  “Maybe something will stand out, a location or something from the preview.”  Your eyes darted between Sam and Dean as they shared a silent conversation.  You knew that they were used to people not understanding them but as a fan of the show, you could tell exactly what they were trying to communicate.  

“Sam, you don’t want me to come because you’re worried about my safety and you still think of me as the Y/N you saved from the witches.  Dean, you don’t want me to come because you don’t trust me.  But you both can see the value I’d bring to this with what I know and could potentially remember or piece together.”  You stared at both brothers, daring them to challenge your observations.  You didn’t know where this confidence was coming from but you were going to ride it as long as you could.  “Look, I’m not trained in all of this like you guys were but where I come from, the fans of Supernatural can be almost scary with what we know and what we can do.  I’ve never killed anything but I know the show like Becky knows the books and I swear I’m not going to kidnap you or do anything crazy like that.  Hell, I’m still not positive that this isn’t all some crazy fever dream and I’m not lying in a coma somewhere in my world.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really, really, really love to ride in that beautiful car of yours, Dean, and meet one of my maybe not so fictional heroes, Jody Mills.”

The brothers looked impressed, if a little scared, and nodded at one another.  The decision made, you all walked out to where Baby was parked.  There wasn’t any time to waste but you couldn’t help but circle the car, running your hand along her shiny finish.  You had always hoped to see one of the fan made replicas but you knew nothing could stand up to this moment.  

Once you were all in the car and on the road, Dean began quizzing you about how to dispatch various supernatural creatures.  When you even knew how to kill an okami, you could tell the older Winchester was impressed.  “It can’t be easy to find a Shinto priest around here, though,” you observed and Dean actually laughed.  

The Winchesters were everything and nothing like you expected them to be, all at once.  Sam napped in the passenger seat while Dean drove and, once he woke up, the magical Winchester WiFi appeared. It turned out that Sam kept a mobile hotspot in the Impala’s glove compartment and the wifi wasn’t all that extraordinary, afterall.  As the sky grew darker, Sam managed to cajole Dean into letting him drive for a few hours, something that you didn’t usually get to see but made sense - with all the driving the two of them do, Sam has to do some of it and of course it wouldn’t make it to television if he usually took the night shifts.  You had napped on and off throughout the afternoon so you kept Sam company while he drove, using the opportunity to get to know the real Sam Winchester.

When the car pulled into Sioux Falls you were almost sad.  This had already been more exciting and fulfilling than any day at home and all you had done was ride in a car.  You looked out the window and something caught your eye, an old hardware store with the windows covered in paper and a for rent sign out front.

“Stop!  Jody’s in there!” you gasped, pointing at the store.  

Sam turned around in the passenger seat.  “Are you sure?  She texted me not even an hour ago to meet her at the station.”  

“I just… that building was in the preview, for a brief second and it looked like she was walking through abandoned store aisles when that guy was following her,” you explained.  

Sam looked to Dean, who had his phone out and pressed to his ear.  “Jody’s not answering her phone,” he announced as he quickly turned the car into the parking lot.  The boys got out of the car and jogged around to the trunk, loading up on weapons for any possibility.  

Sam loaded a gun and held it out to you.  “You know how to use this?”  

You nodded in response.  You had never actually fired a gun but you understood the mechanics of it.  

“If you need to use it, shoot three times.  That’ll unload a silver bullet, a witch killing bullet, and a devil’s trap bullet into whatever’s coming at you.  It’s enough to stop most things.”

You nodded again, praying that you weren’t up against a vampire, and followed the brothers into the building.  The inside looked exactly as you expected it to and you stayed close to Sam while the three of you maneuvered through the dusty store.  You made it all the way to the back before you heard a sound coming from the store’s back room.  Sam motioned you to stay put and you watched as he pulled the door open.

Suddenly a blast threw him backwards into some of the shelves.  You rushed forward, kneeling in front of him and aimed through the door.  There were two creatures in the room and a person bound to a chair.  The creatures started coming towards you and you raised the gun Sam had given you, firing at one and then the other, three shots each.  You managed to hit your mark and both of the creatures stopped in their tracks.  Dean rushed around the corner and into the room, releasing Jody from the ropes as you made sure Sam was alright.

He was awake and nothing seemed broken so, that was good at least.  “It’s nice to have someone coming to my rescue for a change,” he joked.  It was a weak joke but you took it as a good sign.  

“Looks like we’ve got some demons on our hands,” Dean commented, pulling the demon blade seemingly from nowhere.

If there was one thing that bothered you about Supernatural, it was how the Winchesters had practically abandoned exorcisms in favor of killing the demons.  But that also meant that they were killing the vessel, too, and these people didn’t ask to be possessed.  “Wait!” you called out.  “I shot them in the leg, the vessels won’t be dead.  We should exorcise them.”

“Once these demons are back in hell, what do you think these people are going to do about getting shot?” Dean asked.  “I’ve had the law on my tail more times than I can count and, sweetheart, I don’t think you’re up for that kind of crazy yet.”

Maybe Dean was right.  Evading the FBI had been rough on the boys.  You were about to tell Dean that when Jody spoke up.

“The alarm was tripped, I came to check it out and found these two in here bleeding,” Jody said.  “They’ll give me a description of the person who shot ‘em, if they can even remember, and I’ll follow up with them a few times but nothing will ever get filed.”  Her explanation put you at ease and you let out a sigh of relief.  

“In that case, Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…” you exorcised the demons from their vessels, who then fell to the ground in pain as Jody called for an ambulance.

“I like this one, she’s keeping you boys honest,” you heard Jody say to Sam and you smiled to yourself, excited to hear one of your heroes say that she liked you.  “Now, you three better get out of here,” she whispered and you, Sam, and Dean booked it out of the abandoned shop.

Once you were safely in the Impala and headed back to Kansas, Dean spoke again.  “Even I have to admit, you were pretty solid out there, Y/N.”

Sam smiled as he tapped away at his laptop.  “So get this, there’s been a string of disappearances not to far from here, mostly centered around the lunar cycle.  Sounds like it’s our kind of thing,” he told you both.  “What do you think, Y/N, before you go back are you up for one more job?”

“I think I can handle one more,” you replied with a smile.

It kept going on like that.  After every hunt, Sam would ask if you were “up for one more job,” and you would always agree “I think I can handle one more.”  You became a formidable hunter in your own right as your relationship with both brothers and their chosen family grew.  Cas, Jody, and Donna were the friends you had dreamed of having, Dean was like the brother you had always wanted and Sam was… well, Sam was definitely not like a brother.  

Until finally, after months on the road together, there wasn’t a nearby case to take on and the bubble burst as Dean parked the Impala in the bunker’s garage on a Tuesday afternoon.  

“I guess we should figure out how to get you home,” Sam mumbled, not looking at you.  

“Or, maybe,” you ventured, “maybe I could stay?”  You didn’t want to look at the younger Winchester, afraid that he might reject you, even after everything you had been through together - and done together - over the past 12 or so weeks.

Instead, warm arms surrounded you and large hands were tilting your face up.  Sam practically devoured you with kisses before he pulled back with a grin on his face.  “I’d like that.”

Maybe Tuesdays weren’t as bad as you had initially thought.

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[jawllines]

YN GETTING STOOD UP AT SENIOR PROM SO SHE CALLS HARRY OVER WHOS LIKE OLDER AND WISE AND HE COMFORTS HER AND THEN THEY FUCK LMAO PLS !!!!!

“’Lo?”

Y/N didn’t know what to do. It was prom, she’d been stood up by her date for Kristen McDale, her makeup was ruined with tears, and her breathing was all shaky and stuttered. She felt like dirt, so she did what she always does when she feels like dirt – she calls Harry. 

Harry was her neighbor – or, well, he used to be, but now he lives on campus in a college not so far off from where she lives. They’d been an unlikely pair of friends, just like every teen rom-com, only without the romantic tendencies. Harry was like a jock bodyguard at school when he was there, who got her tickets to parties as just a Sophomore, let her wear his Letterman jacket when she got cold, and carried her home when she was drunk and wobbly on her feet and away from the other gross Seniors trying to coax her into their bedrooms. 

Of course Y/N had always had a crush on him – he was all green eyes, soft hair, and sweet words, but he always had a girlfriend and Y/N was two years younger. So it never worked out…also like every teen rom-com. 

He encourages her to call when things get to be too much – he knows how she is, with overthinking, and getting to deep in her head. Spent plenty of nights letting her cry to him when everything felt like it was suffocating her. She just hopes that he wouldn’t be too busy with school (or worst: with a girl) to listen to her this time. 

“H-harry?” She hates how her voice quakes, “I – um, can you talk for a second?” 

“Oh no, Babe, why’re you sniffling? Isn’t prom tonight?”

Y/N sniffles, wiping underneath her eyes, “He – he stood me up.” She whimpers out, “I – he called and said he had a different date – the fucking prick! I got all ready and I spent money on my make up and hair and – and this dress! And he stood me up and I don’t know what to do, Harry, I wanna slash his tires but I also just want to cry and watch She’s All That.” 

She can hear the pout in his voice, “Y/N, I’m sorry, but no slashing tires – m’pretty sure college’s see misdemeanors.”

“What about keying his car?” 

Harry’s chuckle settles warm and low in her belly, familiar and comforting – like a hug from a cozy sweater. “Nuh -uh. Say, Pet, why don’t you come down and visit me for a spell? Got that dorm to meself, remember?”

“I won’t be a bother?” 

“Course not! Head on over right now, don’t bother changing though – wanna see you in the dress, yeah?” 

Y/N sniffles again, running the back of her hand beneath her nose, “Kay, see you.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” He promises. 

                                                     …

Just as he said, Y/N barely has time to knock after her “I’m here” text for the door to swing open and reveal him in all his, sweatpants slung low, and grey t-shirted glory. He’s definitely gotten his hair trimmed since she saw him last, and his biceps are bulging against his sleeves a bit more, and Y/N is then very suddenly aware of the makeup still staining and smudging her face.

“Oh, Button,” he pouts, his big hand wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her into a hug. 

Y/N can’t help but burrow her face into his chest, inhaling his citrus – foresty smell, letting it make her feel lightheaded “He’s a dick.” Her grumbles are muffled and soft.

“A right, prick he is. Lemme have a look at you.” He draws back, looking down at her dress and tutting his tongue, “You look so pretty tonight, Pet, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

Snorting, Y/N furrows her brows at him, “I dunno’ if you realize this Harry, but I look like a coked out raccoon.” 

And in very Harry like fashion, he tuts his tongue once more, and shakes his head, reaching to cup her face with his big, warm hands. Letting his thumbs stroke over her tear stained, mascara smudged, cheeks, in slow steady movements, “Still beautiful.”

It’s because he does stuff like this, that makes her all mushy for him. How could she not be, when Harry is sweet and gentle and so nice to her…his looks were just an additional bonus, which was the craziest thing. No wonder he always had a girlfriend, honestly, even if she hates it she understands why. 

“Alright, I’ve got some clothes set out for you and She’s All That queued up. You’re spending the night, Poppet, I’ve already let your mother know.” He gives her a big grin and Y/N returns it just as, if not twice as wide. A sleepover with Harry is always a fun one, and she’s pretty certain he’s her best friend – or at least the only friend she has willing to give up their alone time and their night just so she didn’t have to be alone. 

So she takes herself into the bathroom with his clothes in hand, flopping them on the sink before working on taking the earrings she had out of her ears and avoiding looking at her face for a spell until she can take care of it. She’s lucky she keeps makeup wipes in her purse or she would just have to rock this post stood up for prom” look for the rest of the night. Once she’s wiped free of all mascara debris, she draws her hair back into a bun, before trying to start up on her dress. 

Her dress was one size too small so that everything held up, but it was incredibly hard to get on and out of. She also seemingly forgot her mother had to help her tug it up and over and zip her up, but she remembers this when she’s trying to reach for the zipper and things aren’t going as planned. So with a huff through her nose, she calls out for Harry, who comes moments later.

“Will you please unzip me?” She questions him, and Harry clears throat soundly before nodding, motioning for her to spin around. His fingers were warm, when they touch gently to her shoulder as he moves her hair out of the way, and he gets a grip on the zip before pulling it undone. Y/N hadn’t realized how low it actually went until she feels the warmth of Harry’s hands emanating off of him and upon the top half of her bum.

She expects him to be through after that, but two careful hands start pressing the two sides apart, his palms running smoothly over her back. “Ah,” he tuts his tongue, “Really doesn’t know what he’s missin’,” it’s off handed and takes Y/N by surprise but before she could question him on it, Harry disappears through the door.

Skin pebbled with goosebumps, Y/N finishes getting out of her dress and into one of Harry’s soft sweaters and a pair of sweatpants. Bottom lip bitten raw with thoughts of his hands on her skin as she finally ambles out to him, flopping down on the couch besides him with a puff. The movie set up on his TV and a bowl of popcorn on his lap that he shoves into her hands, “Okay, m’ready to fall in love with a young Freddie Prinze Jr. are you?” 

                                                .        .      .

Y/N peels her heavy eyelids open to the soft sound of a Pretty Little Liars rerun, the gentle whir of the ceiling fan, and a few quiet noises coming from the bathroom. Brows furrowed, she tries to rub the sleep away from her senses – she doesn’t even remember dozing out, but it’s clear that Harry had wrapped her up in his throw cover. Speaking of, where had Harry gone? His phone was still out here, and from where she sat what she could see was his bed was empty, and the bathroom door was left slightly ajar. 

Without much thought, she decides to investigate further. Thinks maybe Harry is just brushing his teeth and washing his face…or at least she hopes so, because if she’s been ditched for another girl for the second time tonight that would destroy her indefinitely. Especially since it’s Harry.

So she moves around the coffee table and towards the bathroom door, rubbing at her eyes and cursing herself for crying so much. A headache tickles at the edges of her brain, and she tells herself to ask Harry for the ibproufen as she begins pressing the door open but all though falters. She’s actually pretty sure her brain starts malfunctioning, as no words or noise come from her mouth, and her mouth falls agape like her jaw had unhinged. 

Hunched over the sink, with his eyes squeezed shut to the reflection of himself in the mirror, one hand from his extended arm holding onto the ceramic counter top, while the other is wrapped around his prick. His very hard, red tipped, thick, and all too delicious looking prick. Front teeth digging into his bottom lip, his brows clinched, there’s sweat beading at his hairline and causing small strands to curl. Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes…sure, she’d accidentally stumbled across her window when Harry had left his cracked open wide, but most of the time he had the decency of being beneath a blanket. 

But this…this Y/N has never encountered before. 

She’s planning on slinking back into the living room, so she can sit on the couch and pretend she’d been asleep this whole time, but a soft groan claws from deep in his chest, and his bitten strawberry swollen lips part around it. Spit slicked and puffy, pursed and all too much for Y/N’s poor little heart to handle. “Fuck,” he thumbs at the already slippery head, the fingers on the sink turning white from how hard he’s gripping it, “s'fucking tight.” 

 Y/N’s heart is bounding against her chest, a twist low in her stomach that sparks a dull ache, and she clenches around nothing. She’s never heard Harry speak like that before, and there was something about it that turned all her nerves into knots. 

 She needs to leave. She needs to turn around and go back to the couch because she’s invading his privacy and she shouldn’t know that he’s as hard as he is, and she shouldn’t know that there is precum splurting from the tip, and she really, really, really shouldn’t know that when Harry dips his thumb into the slit it makes his whole body quake in a shudder. 

But just as soon as she’s convinced to turn away and act as if she’d never seen any of it, he says it.“Y/N,” it’s so quiet, she nearly convinces herself she’s just hearing things, “Fucking, fuck, Y/N.” 

 She doesn’t mean to squeak. Doesn’t mean to give away her position with a terribly embarrassing noise, and doesn’t mean to make him pause in his movements. Blinking his eyes open slowly and raising his head, looking into the mirror at where Y/N stood wide eyed and stock still. When she catches a glance of herself in the mirror, she’s sure she looks like a boner killer all puffy faced from crying but when she dates a quick peek at his cock she sees him twitch in his hand.

 “Ah!” Y/N gasps, smacking her hands over her eyes, “I’m sorry! I was - I was just…needed some ibuprofen and I didn’t know where you were so I came but –”

 “But I was touching myself.” He fills in casually, and all too calmly, “Were you watchin’ me touch myself, Pet?” 

 Her cheeks feel hot, “I’m sorry, I can – if you want me to leave I can leave?” She offers, still with her eyes covered as she starts moving backwards, but she feels his ring clad fingers loop around her forearm to stop her.

 “S'not necessary,” he answers, giving her forearms a tug, trying to see her but she holds strong, “C'mon, you don’t have to hide from me.” 

 “I’m not hiding,” she murmurs, “Just– I didn’t think you wanted me to see your –” 

 “My cock?” He fills in once again and she nods sheepishly, “Darlin, I don’t mind if you see it or not. Besides, you’ve heard me go n’ say your name while I was tugging myself off, dunno why you’re the one acting all embarrassed.” He notes, “Now lemme see you.”

She puts up a fight for only a few moments after, until succumbing to Harry’s insistent hands and letting him pull them from her face. He keeps his hands on her arms as if to settle her, stroking them gently while they slowly relaxed from their tensed state. Once they’re back at her sides, he cradles her face in his palms for the second time that night only this time it feels much less sweet and much more filthy, “There she is,” he murmurs gently, “You look so pretty. You fell asleep on my lap and my thoughts got a little dirty – needed to take care of myself.” 

“Did I make you – is that –” The words keep faltering but Hary jumps in so she doesn’t have to make a stuttering fool of herself, still stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“What do you think, Sweetheart?” He asks gently, and he’s close enough she can feel his minty breath on her skin, “Think you could just come here looking so cute, and sweet, and sad, and I wouldn’t get hard thinking about taking care of you? ‘Bout fucking you so hard that you forget about that stupid boy, n’all you can think of is my cock?” She shudders, heat pooling in a prickly wave to her lower belly. “Thought you could come here and I wouldn’t wanna pull your hips down into my lap and rub against you, darling? S’that what you thought?” 

She blinks, reaching out to grab at his shirt and fisting the material in her hands, “Harry,” she all but breathes, “I – I –” 

He takes her holding onto him as a good sign, she guesses, because he slides his hand down to her hip, gives her a squeeze and pulls her nearer to him. His nose brushes against her own in a sweet little puppy kiss that really contradicts the state they’re standing in. “’ave you ever given someone head, Baby?” He asks, slipping both hands beneath the hem of his shirt, his fingertips leaving goosebumps on her tummy in his wake. 

Y/N’s brows furrow as she tries to find her words, but he’s so close and his touch is becoming very, very distracting, especially as the tip of his index finger skims just beneath the swell of her breast, “Yes -- yes, I have um -- to the boy who was s’pposed to take me to prom t’night.” She doesn’t know why she tells him who. . .he didn’t ask for it, but Harry pouts his lips at her again, and she feels embarrassed once again, that she’d let the boy sweet talk her into giving him a blowie. Promised to take her to prom, and eat her out after too, the asshole. 

Though being here with Harry is much better, she thinks.

“Tha’s naughty, Pet.” He murmurs, “Knew you had a filthy mouth but didn’t know you were keen on using it.” The smile at his mouth says he’s teasing, small and subtle. 

“Harry --” she starts to whine because she hates being teased but he pretends not to here her and continues on unperturbed. 

“He didn’t deserve this hot little tongue on him though,” he pulls down on her lip, making it pout before she opens up for him, “Not a’ all.” 

Harry leans in then, sliding his tongue gracefully and slow against hers, pressing the whole front of his body into her own while his arms looped around her body and his hands slid down her back. Y/N hasn’t kissed a lot of people so she wasn’t well versed in the structure or movement of it, but Harry was slow, soft, and sweet and he mewls these little noises into her mouth every so often that only cater to the ache in her belly. She doesn’t understand why he’s making them until she realizes that his bare, hard cock is nudging up against her, and it makes her draw her mouth from him for a breath, feeling a bit lightheaded. 

“Can I lick you?” She says without thinking, eyes having flickered down to where he bobs heavily and it makes her mouth water -- the prick she’d been had been a decent size sure, but it wasn’t nearly as pretty as Harry’s. 

His lips are a bit swollen, slicked with spit, and a muted strawberry color as he questions her, “Lick me where?” 

Y/N knows and Harry knows that he good and well is aware of where she wants to. However this doesn’t stop her from bashfully murmuring, “Your cock. Can I please lick you?” 

Smiling, Harry nods but stops her before she can start sinking to her knees, “Tell me if you need’a stop, okay? N’don’t push yourself, Kitten, m’pretty big and I don’ want you choking on me. At least not yet.” 

Nodding, Y/N sinks to her knees and tries to quiet the storm roaring within her as she comes face to face with him. The drippy head taunting her as he pushes his shaft down with a couple of fingers, leveling it with her mouth. Y/N wastes no time in parting her lips around the tip, suckling carefully, just as she was taught to (Tyler may be an asshole, but he did go slow with her). It makes Harry moan out loudly, a noise similar to that of what he’d been making when she stumbled in on him. 

It spurs her onward, and she opens her mouth even more so over the head and tongues at the frenulum, peeking up to look at Harry who has his head thrown back, showing off the smooth expanse of his neck while both hands hold onto the sink counter tightly. “Ah, yes, yes, right there.” He encourages her, “Got such a pretty, warm lil’ mouth, doing so well.” 

Y/N buzzes with the compliments, taking him even farther into her mouth before giving an experimental bob, placing her hand at the base of him and giving a twist. His hips buck at that and he shoves deeper in her mouth, but controls himself quickly, moving to place a hand at her scalp, not pushing her but just as a gently presence “Sorry baby, you just feel so good. Take your time with me.” 

So she does. Y/N bobs her head slowly, sucking on him and listens to all the whimpers and whines that add to the wet dripping and soaking her panties. Her thighs are squeezing together the best they can, to get at least some pressure on her clit, but it does very little. She keeps her other hand at his thigh to keep herself from reaching down and rubbing like she wants to. 

It’s when she pulls back entirely, flattens her tongue and licks a stripe from the small dip of his balls to the smooth, shiny head that Harry’s fingers dig into her hair. “Fuck,” he cries out, looking down to her and his pupils are blown, puffy lips hanging open as she uses the tip of her tongue to really lick at the slit. Y/N can feel him throb in her hand, one that might mean he’s about to cum before he gives her a sharp tug back. “Stop, stop, stop, stop,” he repeats, and it’s only when she’s staring up at him that she realizes her jaw aches and she wonders if she’s done something wrong. 

Y/N guesses her face is easy to read as a book though, as Harry pets tenderly at her head, stroking the hair he’d mussed up down, “You weren’t doin’ anything wrong, Darling, I was just so close to cumming. Realized I wanted to nut off on your body rather than on your mouth.” His hand slowly skims down to her ear, caressing the lobe, “Just don’ know where yet.” 

She starts to stand, a little wobbly on her legs but Harry reaches out to hold her steady, “Easy there,” he titters, “Wanna hear what m’gonna do to you?” 

"Yes!” She answers a little to eagerly and it makes him chuckle warmly.

“First, m’gonna take all this off,” he begins, fingering at the collar of his shirt she’s wearing, his other hand squeezing on her hip like he’s proved to be so fond of doing, “Gonna take my time with you . . .get you so worked up that your dripping down your thighs, begging me to do something, anything at all,” Y/N feels dizzy with want, listening to his words thick with desire, “And instead of giving into your cute little whimpers, I’ll press your thighs together real tight, and slide my cock right in between. . .make you watch the head disappear and reappear while you wish and want it to be inside you. Dunno if I’ll even take you t’night, Pet, maybe I’ll just get you all flustered and hot before cuddling you to sleep.” He waits a beat, searching her face, “Are you ready for that?” 

Gulping, Y/N nods. 

This is much better than prom.