#but whatever floats your boat angst-wise for these two

[boasamishipper]

Say a lifetime ago, you worked with a guy, right?

[writer-k-pop]

The Captain (c.s.c) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.9k / Ending B - 4.8k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"What do you mean you didn't know it was him?" I rise up from the table and stalk towards Mun Hee who stands in the garden entrance, his terror evident.

"He, his hair was different. A-and he had like uh stuff all over his face and, and." Mun Hee stutters out. "I didn't realize it was him!" He tries to reason with me.

"And it took you 10 days to realize it?" I question him as I pass him on my way out of the garden and away from my champagne.

"I didn't see him for ten days." Mun Hee defends himself, "I'm pretty sure he was locked in his room that entire time."

"You're dead if he only has a couple days left." I threaten him.

Mun Hee is taken aback, "Okay, A: I'm already dead. B: He has 12 days left."

My feet stop on a dime. "How many?" I ask, turning towards him, not believing what I had heard.

"12 left." Mun Hee says, "I remembered him cause when I read his palm, it said he had 22. Did you know that's the most I've ever seen?"

Twenty-two. A whole twenty two lives. I knew his soul would live to be wise but I hadn't guessed it would be 22 lives wise.

"So when I tell you I looked for him everyday cause I was curious and amazed, I really mean it." Mun Hee says with a nod of childlike sincerity, "And since no one can hide from me, I just kind of assumed he had locked himself in his room." He nods with a serious pout, "So I didn't know it was your Seungcheol until he FINALLY stepped out to go to the library. And then it hit me."

Soon Bok walks up to us, a bit surprised to see us here in the hallway.

"I thought you were in the garden?" She asks, looking between the two of us.

"I was." I reply, "But then Mun Hee tells me that Seungcheol has been checked in for the past 10 days and I have been clueless about it."

Soon Bok's eyes widen and she looks at Mun Hee, "You never told her? I told you to tell her!" She slaps his shoulder.

Mun Hee flinches when her hand makes contact with him, "I got distracted by other guests." He gives an excuse.

"Where did you end up placing him?" I ask, moving away from the whole Mun Hee not telling me topic.

Soon Bok doesn't even have to check her folder, "Room 88 with the nice view of the water."

I smile at her thoughtfulness, "Perfect."

I don't have the desire to return to the garden or the champagne so we continue to walk towards the hotel while Soon Bok updates me on a few hotel happenings. By the time she's finished, we've reached the bottom of the main staircase in the lobby and Soon Bok takes her leave soon after.

As we climb the stairs, Mun Hee opens his mouth to ask a question but I cut him off, already knowing what he's going to ask.

"No, you can not go bother him about his lives." I say and Mun Hee's body droops.

"But it's twenty two lives." He whines, "Twenty two!"

"And that's a lot of lives to remember." I explain to him, trying my best not to let my annoyance creep out.

"(y/n)." Mun Hee drags out my name in a plead.

Closing my eyes, I take a steadying breath, "Fine," Mun Hee smiles brightly and his body straightens, "BUT! Only if he allows you to ask questions. You must ask him if it's okay first, you got it?" I point a finger at him.

Mun Hee quickly nods. His smile is so wide that his eyes begin to shut.

I can't help but laugh at his excitement. "Go back to your post now." I tell him and wave him away. Mun Hee quickly retreats back down the stairs and happily skips to the front desk.

I make my way up the rest of the stairs and once I reach the top, I lean against the railing of the balcony. I watch as Mun Hee smiles and waves to all the guests in the lobby. For a moment, a loving smile appears on my face but it's quickly wiped away as Mun Hee nearly runs into one of the very large and very breakable flower vases.

"Clutz." I mutter to myself and turn away.

~The 22nd Day~

My wrists burn against the ropes that tightly bind them together behind my back. My knees press heavily against the wooden floor boards, trying to keep my balance as the waves rock our boat to and fro. The sharp tip of a blade rests between my shoulder blades.

Glancing to my right, Seungcheol sits in a similar position but his forehead is bleeding from where he was hit. The red blood drips down the side of his face and stains the shirt that I had bought him before we set sail.

"This ship is ours now." Our captor says, cockily as he stands a few feet in front of us.

"Take it." Seungcheol says, narrowing his eyes. "It's yours, just leave us alone."

'He's bargaining.' I think to myself, 'Why would he bargain his beloved boat?'

"Bargaining, I see." Our captor smiles, "I thought you'd put up more of fight for the boat you've had for almost your entire life."

"You've done your research." Seungcheol says, pretending to be impressed.

"Every good pirate needs to do his research, no?" Our capture banters back.

"I don't need to put up a fight." Seungcheol says through gritted teeth. "I don't need the boat."

Our captor tips his head up and taps his chin, "Now, what would a reputable boat captain need more than his boat? Any ideas, boys?" He looks to his men, who all laugh mischievously.

"A girl." One shouts from behind us.

"A girl!" Our captor claps his hands and my heart stops. "That's exactly right."

In a panic, I look over at Seungcheol who has the same panic written on his face. Seungcheol begins to fight against his restraints.

"Take the boat! Take anything but her." Seungcheol cries.

Our captor is unimpressed by Seungcheol's efforts and simply nods to the men behind me.

With ease, they grab my arms and lift me to my feet. Now, I begin to fight against their hold, though I go nowhere. Seungcheol fights harder but he's held back by the shoulders.

With a pounding heart, I continue to struggle but I'm carried towards the side of the boat.

"Please," Seungcheol begs with tears falling, "I can give you whatever you want. I, I have money. You can have my boat. Anything but her."

I feel my own cheeks become wet with tears but in the back of my mind, I know exactly why this is happening. And I hate myself for it.

"I want nothing." Our captor simply shrugs, Seungcheol's cries not affecting him at all, "Except for your pain." He finishes and pointedly looks at me. When his steely eyes meet mine, he smiles crookedly and the coldest shiver runs down my spine.

I divert my eyes to Seungcheol who is screaming and fighting against the men who hold him back. I try to catch my breath but before I have a chance to say anything, the two men lift me over the railing and drop me into the rushing water.

The cold water tightly wraps its fist around me and I fight to swim upwards but the current overpowers my efforts and drags me further below the surface. The necklace around my neck floats upwards and I'm reminded of who is above the water's surface. Not wanting to leave Seungcheol alone, I continue to fight against the current. Just when I think I've pulled myself out of the current's grasp, a strong force quite literally punches me in the stomach, sending me backwards into blackness.

My eyes snap open and I sit up in a panic. The only sounds are my heavy breathing and the echo of my pounding heart in my ears. Feeling the soft fabric that surrounds me, I realize I'm just in my bed and run a hand through my hair. My cheeks are wet with tears and I quickly wipe them away. Looking around, I squint as my blinds do a terrible job of keeping the sunlight out. The clock on my bedside table reads 1:24pm.

I groan and throw myself back onto the mattress. Subconsciously, I rub my wrist as the burning still lingers while I try to settle my racing heart. With sleep abandoning me in the middle of my nighttime, I give up the efforts and clamber out of bed. I walk out of my bedroom while slipping a light robe on.

My office is alight with the bright sunlight and I can see the dust particles floating around in the air as I descend the stairs from my connected bedroom. Immediately, a bottle of champagne on my desks greets me with its green melancholy. I quickly pick it up and raise it to my lips but frown when not even a drop falls from the bottle's mouth.

Slamming the bottle down, the collision echos into the still air.

'Don't drink so much out here.' Seungcheol's voice rings in my mind. 'We don't know if the next port will have any alcohol.' He says, followed by his chuckle.

I cover my ears and shake my head to get rid of the memory.

'Next year, I'll buy you the most expensive and best champagne that you will never be able to drink another kind.' Another memory surfaces and this time the shadow of his arms wraps around my waist.

With a scream of frustration, I grab the champagne bottle and chuck it. It hits an empty space on the wall and shatters into hundreds of pieces. As the pieces fall and tinkle against the floors, the fragments of Seungcheol's voice fade as well.

With a heavy heart, I let my feet wander wherever they please, too tired to fight my body's desire. The hallways are quiet and the sunlight warms up my skin, ridding it of the cold water memory.

When my feet stop, I'm standing at the base of the main staircase in the lobby. The place I landed and woke up at after I passed out in the water. I wrap my arms around myself as the feeling of cold water returns.

My senses return to the memory and I'm submerged in the past.

The coughing that raked through my chest. Yong and Jiwoo rushing towards me with Mun Hee and Soon Bok not far behind with multiple towels in their hands.

All of them wrapping me in the towels and drying me off. My struggle against them to get back to the living world. To get back to Seungcheol. My employees holding me in place. Yong bringing out a notecard.

The words of the note card burying my heart under 100 tons of concrete.

"Do it again, and we will not be so kind."

I had disobeyed the Gods' conditions and I had paid for it. As I move my heel over the spot, another memory surfaces.

'Heels are no good on a boat, (y/n).' Seungcheol had said, kneeling in front of me and placing my heel back on my foot, 'We need to buy you a pair of flatter shoes.'

'As long as I still look good and they don't look like trash.' I had said.

'I'll find the best ones for you.' Seungcheol promised with a wide smile.

Anger begins to bubble inside of me. I had it so good with Seungcheol. I was happy with him. So why did I disobey the Gods' order and ruin everything?

Why did I toss the note card that said 'Time to leave.' into the trash?

Why did I think I could run away from the Gods?

Why wasn't I thinking?

"Stupid." I exclaim, kicking the bottom stair. It causes a low throbbing in my foot but I ignore it, too frustrated to linger on it.

The doors to the front check in room creak open and a pair of dress shoes clicks against the tiles.

"Oh, (y/n)." Jiwoo's pace quickens slightly to reach me faster, "What are you doing awake?"

I cross my arms, erasing all traces of my painful memories from my face, "I could ask the same of you. You should still be in your home, getting sleep for tonight."

Jiwoo shrugs, unbothered by the fact that I answered his question with another question. "Well, I've been coming in early to make sure everything is in order for the next person who will take over for me once I leave." He gives me a small nudge with his shoulder, "Not just any spirit can slide right into the human manager's position."

I look down at my feet and smile. Out of his family line, Jiwoo's one of my favorites. Always thinking ahead and planning. Always willing to stand up to me when I'm moody. Plus he's always willing to drive around the living world and take me to eat yummy foods. He's a foodie.

"What will you do once I leave?" I wonder.

"Me?" Jiwoo scratches his neck, "You know, I haven't thought about it much. I've been pretty busy with the hotel."

"What do you want to do?" I reword my question, genuinely curious.

Jiwoo shrugs, "Travel maybe. I've heard so many stories from guests here about the beauties of the world and the history so it might be fun to experience them first hand."

I nod, "That sounds like a solid plan." I gather up my skirt and turn towards the elevators. "Call me when he's ready." I tell him before walking away without another word.

I spend the next many hours laying on the couch. Then sitting at my desk. Then cleaning the broken glass. Then sort of listening to Yong when she brings me the daily debrief. Then sitting on the stairs. Then staring out the window. Then dusting off my picture frames. Then back to the window.

The moon sits high in the sky and I have an unobstructed view of it as the cloudless sky passes by.

A small, timid knock barely makes it to my ears.

"Come in." I call out to whoever's on the other side.

The door opens and Soon Bok shuffles into my office. I smile at her, finding her change in demeanor amusing. Out in the hotel, she's strict and not to be messed with. But in here, she's nervous and unsure. "It's been quite a while since you've visited me up here, Soon Bok."

Soon Bok nervously nods, "I think the last time I was in here was the first time too."

"What do you need?" I ask, hoping to end her nerve wracking visit.

"Jiwoo asked me to tell you that he's taking Seungcheol to the garden." She points her thumb behind her.

I nod, "Alright I'll be there in a second. You can go."

She bows and takes her leave quickly.

I walk over to my desk and press a hidden lever that opens a hidden compartment. From the compartment I pull out a jewelry box that I haven't touched in ages. Opening it, I'm greeted with shine of the emerald necklace Seungcheol bought me. The one I was wearing when I was thrown overboard.

The one I had to beg the Gods to let me keep.

I close the lid and with the box in hand, I walk out of my office. The hotel buzzes with the midnight hustle and bustle but I ignore all of it and press on towards my destination.

When I enter the final hallway, I speed up a bit, the tears already filling my eyes. I enter the garden and my feet skid to a stop.

He's not here.

But then he walks out from behind the tree, a hand running along its truck, his eyes inspecting the branches that spread out.

My heart lodges in my throat as he turns towards me. His eyes are still soft and full of emotion. His cheeks are still high and full. His lips are still set in the perfect shape. The only thing that causes me some pain are the shadows of scars that scatter his face and neck. The places where he'd been seriously injured in past lives.

I eye his forehead and there sits the shadow of the scar I caused.

"(y/n)." Seungcheol whispers my name but I hear it like he whispered it into my ear.

I set the jewelry box on the bench and cover my mouth with my hand, choking back a sob. In two seconds flat, he has me wrapped up in a tight embrace and my tears fall.

"You're here." He says, stroking my hair, "I'm here. I'm here."

Seungcheol holds me as I sob, hundreds of years of guilt finally ripping out of my body. Even as my sobs subside, he still holds tightly onto me.

"So this is where we finally get to meet again." Seungcheol mutters as I sniffle. "When my soul is at its end in the living world."

I sniffle and focus on steadying my breath.

"I lived a lot of lives, did you know that?" He continues to talk.

I nod, still sniffling but not as frequently.

"A whole twenty two." I can hear the smile on his lips, "I'd say that's pretty good for a measly ship captain."

I smile, his attempt to make me laugh a success.

"You weren't measly." I counter.

Seungcheol pulls away, "I couldn't even buy you a home."

I shake my head, "I didn't need a home."

He smiles and dries my cheeks. "I know but still."

I release myself from him and sit on the bench, staring at the tree. Seungcheol follows suit without taking his eyes off of me.

"What happened that da-?" He wonders, scooting closer and his hand runs into the jewelry box. "What's this?"

"Open it." I instruct him and he does so.

Seungcheol's eyes widen as the necklace comes into view, "I thought the sea took this."

I shake my head, "Those pirates weren't from this world." I answer his original question of what happened that day on the sea, "I'm sure someone's explained my punishment to you?" I check with him.

"Yong did this morning over breakfast." Seungcheol nods. "It seemed fitting until I realized they controlled essentially when it ended."

"We're talking about thirteen souls. In my world, killing a single soul is like murdering at least 10 people in the living world." I smile that he sort of took my side. "Anyway, a week before it all happened, the Gods had delivered a note saying it was time to leave you." I continue on with the story, "But I had decided that I was going to stay with you because you made me that happy. So I threw the note away and thought I could run away so the Gods wouldn't catch us." I tuck my hands underneath my legs and lower my gaze to the floor. "I was reckless thinking that they wouldn't find us. But they did. And they forced me to leave. When they dropped me in the sea, I tried to return to the surface, I swear I tried, but they used the currents to pull me back to the hotel."

Seungcheol leans against the back of the bench in awe.

"Because I had disobeyed their conditions for my punishment, I was forced out and caused you all the more pain." I say in a roundabout apology. "I never did it again."

"How do you still have the necklace?" Seungcheol asks, glancing down at the open jewelry box in his lap.

"I begged." I tell him, "I pleaded with the Gods to let me keep it even though I'd disobeyed them."

Seungcheol lifts the necklace out of the box and my eyes follow it. "Thank goodness they did because I spent way too long searching for this for it to be tossed to the side because a girl was in love." Without asking me to move, he places the necklace back on my neck and clasps it closed. "There. Back where it belongs."

My hand instinctively goes to my neck to feel the metals and gems again.

"After you were," Seungcheol clears his throat, unable to say the exact words, "I was immediately knocked unconscious. And when I woke up, I was laying on deck, my hands free of their binds. My men scattered around deck. The boat was docked in a port and had no evidence that any pirates had boarded. Now that you're saying they weren't from my world, it makes sense how they disappeared so quickly."

He runs a hand through his hair, still fluffy and full. "We grieved after that. I grieved. Of course thinking you'd died. And you know, did the whole sha-bang and everything."

I smile as love for this man swells in my chest. I had never once 'died' in front of a love so Seungcheol's the only one who held a funeral for me.

"What did you do after?" I asked, wanting to keep the conversations going, mainly so I could listen to him talk. Like how we used to spend days in the sun, him telling me stories of his previous travels while his small crew manned the ship.  

"I continued shipping goods from port to port with the crew." Seungcheol recalls, "Nothing exciting."

I rolled my eyes, his consistent I'm-not-really-that-interesting jab still present. "You never once met someone interesting?"

Seungcheol scrunches his nose in thought, "I mean, once met a young man named Samuel. Real spunky kid. He had run away from home and was looking for a job."

Hoshi's Samuel? I wonder. Did he keep the same name in a different life?

"We gave him one and he was the hardest working kid. Always helping out around the boat, always wanting to learn about every aspect of running a boat." Seungcheol smiles at the memory, "He was also really athletic and flexible. Sometimes made me wonder if he was a dancer."

My ears perk up immediately, "Maybe in one of his lives?" I suggest.

"That would make sense." Seungcheol agreed, "Samuel was with us for about five years or so before some girl swept him off his feet. Literally." He whispers into my ear with a giggle. "But he won't tell you it that way."

I laugh. "What about Yeon Woo?" I ask remembering some of his crews' names.

"Yeon Woo?" Seungcheol says with some surprise that I remember his name. "Yeon Woo stayed with me for a while. He finally married the girl he had been with for ages. The one with glasses.” He adds for my benefit, “It sounds so silly now, but on the morning of his wedding, he went down to the water, poured two cups of alcohol, set one at the water's edge, and just sat there."

"For me?" I ask, eyes large, touched at Yeon Woo's affection.

Seungcheol nods, "For you." He confirms.

Yeon Woo had been Seungcheol's right hand man and quickly became one of my closest friends. I'm sure he took my 'leave' as hard as Seungcheol.

"He was always such a softie." I lean on his shoulder and loop my arms around his.

"Who else?" Seungcheol wondered, "Oh, Ren!" He lists off the next member of his crew and proceeded to tell me stories he thought were memorable.

We went through all the members of his 5 man crew. Then we diverged into his life and what he went off to do.

He never married though he had a long list of attempts. He says it was cause all the potentials had wanted to move inland but he wanted to stay on the water. We chat about the different places he thought were remotely interesting and about the time he tried to eat a live octopus but chickened out when it stuck to the inside of his cheek. He had to pull it out with both hands.

I laugh when I hear the story. The image of Seungcheol struggling with a tiny octopus tentacle from his mouth being just too funny.

Seungcheol keeps me laughing, constantly telling me how much he loves the sound of my laughter. Even as the sun dips low in the western sky, we can't seem to stop giggling.

As our laughter dies down, Seungcheol stares into the sun and sighs.

"So, now it's my turn, huh." He mutters thoughtfully.

I look at him confused for a second before the setting sun closes the lid on my bliss. "We could-"

"We are not disobeying the Gods again." Seungcheol cuts me off before I could even finish, "You did it once and look how that turned out. I'm not letting you do it again."

I pout and he nuzzles his nose into my hair.

"We're going to do it right this time." He mumbles.

"This way is sucky." I pout and Seungcheol chuckles.

"Come on." He whispers and places a kiss on my head before helping me up to my feet along with himself.

"Are you not sad that you're leaving me?" I wonder as I search his eyes for even a hint of sadness.

Seungcheol smiles softly, "I am but then I see those." He nods towards the chrysanthemums sitting at the base of the tree, "And they remind me that you have others to wait for. And they love you as much as I do." He grabs my hand tightly, "So in reality, I'm quite happy that you were loved so much."

I smile as his words slowly seep in. 13 loves is a lot. Not every soul spends all their lives loving a person so one could say I am pretty fortunate in that aspect. Though the way I encountered this love fortune was not fortunate.

Seungcheol turns and I let him lead me out of the garden. On our way we run into Mun Hee who just happened to be sweeping around the doorway for transfers.

"Just one more question." Mun Hee quickly says before I can even open my clenched jaw.

Seungcheol chuckles, loving my employee. "Alright, one more."

Mun Hee smiles brightly, "What was (y/n) like?" He asks, glancing at me.

I relax my shoulders and roll my eyes. Of course he would want to know what I was like. Was I the same? Was I somehow vastly different?

"Weren't you around?" Seungcheol questions.

Mun Hee readjusts his posture, "She's different when she's not inside the hotel. In here, she's... her." He says as if he's obscenely offended that I would change personalities.

I scrunch my face at him in annoyance as Seungcheol answers.

"She was... herself." He finishes, looking over at me and squeezing my hand.

I smile and we walk around Mun Hee, continuing towards the awaiting car.

"I like him." Seungcheol comments with a glance back, "You should keep him for a while."

"I have to keep him. He's assigned to work here." I inform him and I step from the firm concrete to the soft dirt path.

"You'll be okay here?" Seungcheol asks as we step closer to the car.

I nod, tears already lining my eyes. "I think so."

"You won't mourn for me for too long?" He asks and meets my gaze. His eyes sad but tearless, wanting to be strong for me who still has time left.

I shake my head, not trusting my voice to be stable.

"And you'll tell the next fella that I say thank you?" He continues.

"For what?" I stutter out.

"For loving you just as much as I did." Seungcheol says and a tear slips down my cheek. But before it ever reaches my chin, he wipes it away with his thumb.

I nod and wordlessly, Seungcheol lowers his lips down to meet mine. The warmth of the kiss wipes away all traces of the cold memories and my senses are filled with just him. When he pulls away, I have to fight the urge to pull him back. Partly because Shin is watching but also because Seungcheol's holding my arms to my sides, as if he is already guessing I would try.

He presses a final kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, trying to memorize every detail of the moment. How his lips are pressed firmly to my skin. How his hands tighten ever so slightly around my arms. How he's close enough that I can hear the echo of his heart beat, beating strong and proud.

I keep my eyes close as he pulls away and releases my arms. I only open them when he steps away and towards the car.

Shin gives Seungcheol a curt nod, holding the door open for him. Seungcheol returns the nod and slides into the car without another glance back. But I'm grateful for it, because if he did turn around, I wouldn't have stayed still.

With a hand gripping my necklace, I watch with fresh tears as the car drives forward and disappears into the fog.

I don't bother to wipe away the tears the same way I don't bother to acknowledge the fact that I'm one love closer to ending my punishment. Or the fact that back in my garden, one chrysanthemum sinks to the ground as its life leaves and follows Seungcheol.

I know I'll mourn his leaving for days. But it's something I need to do alone. So I turn back towards the hotel and walk inside to allow myself to grieve. Then wait for the others to arrive.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"So this time, I'm leaving with you?" Seungcheol asks the air while staring into the overly bright sunset.

I nod, "This time we do it together. And not against our will."

Seungcheol chuckles, "Sometimes I think that we laugh too much."

I stand up, hands on my hips, "I can erase all laughter if you want?" I raise an eyebrow as he also rises to his feet, shaking his head.

"Nope, laughing is good." Seungcheol says and grabs my hand. "Are you ready to say goodbye to your staff?"

My heart suddenly feels heavier as I remember that I'm leaving for good. "No. But I have to." I say and hold my head up.

"We'll do it together." He reminds me as we walk out of the garden.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Seungcheol grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Seungcheol and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Seungcheol softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Seungcheol securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

[tallys-train-blog]

Tugs angst

With cliffhangers✨

Hello! This is my first post on this blog and holy hell i'm scared to post this. I got into Tugs about 2 weeks ago and have been picking apart characters for the past week and a half.

Hope ya'll ennjoy, Love you all lots!

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Tencents

The poor teen was screaming, screaming for Hercules, screaming for you.

The burns were scattered up and down his arms, legs, torso and face.

He twisted and turned as Mac tried to clean out wounds and scrapes and yelled out when OJ tried to hold him still.

Finally pushing past the damn crowd you made your way over to the group and the panic set in as you looked down at TenCents jaw dropped and tears pricking your eyes.

Brown eyes looked up at you and your name was hollered.

You fell to your knees and Tencents hollered out in pain again.

Holding his head in your lap your tears began to fall as your words got caught in your throat.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you."

Pushing hair off of tarnished skin and out of glassy amber eyes you took a deep breathe and continued on.

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help, falling in love with you?"

"Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, somethings are meant to be."

"Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help, falling in love with you."

Tencents hissed in pain again as Mac pressed a rag against a burn on his leg.

"Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, somethings are meant to be."

You heard sirens in the background and the area around you lit up in blue and red and everything suddenly became louder.

"Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help, falling in love with you."

Leaning down you pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

"For I, can't help, falling in love, with you."

_____________________________

OJ

You knew he was an older man, but never once did you think about him being scrapped.

It hurt to think about. You loved him. Yes one of his forms is a boat but you knew him, and loved him. And if one side of him was gone so was the other.

You didn't know what to do. You sat on your  porch crying over a photo of the two of you.

The door to the house opened silently and you wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

"Hello dear,"

Otis started gently as he sat down next to you.

"Hi" you greeted weakly.

The two of you sat quietly for a while focusing on things other than the problem that hung floated in the air.

"I can't predict the future, and I don't know what will happen to me, but I can promise you that I will love you forever."

You looked up at Otis as he finished his sentence.

"Can you promise me that as well?"

You smiled at OJ with glassy eyes.

"Of course."

_____________________________

TopHat

You looked across the yard at the tall, pale man. You loved him but he was controling. Too controlling and protective. He doesn't control your relationships or what you do, it's more or less what you wear which is normal, you tend to push the limits of clothing and style and he worries but it pisses you off to no end.

"Flowing skirts and pearl necklaces would look lovely on you."

"Bite me."

You loved him but god you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck sometimes.

You popped a caramel in your mouth and glanced across the boat yard.

You rolled your eyes and turned to Lillie.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"A god" Tencents shot back.

"Yeah, seems about right.

Lillie smiled at you sympathetically.

"Lord have mercu on your soul. You're going to strangle him aren't you?"

"Damn right." You said in a split second.

"Whatever, Mac and Warrior needed me. I'll be back at some point."

Walking out the door of the office you slipped passed your much taller significant other without looking up.

You felt something snag your collar.

"What the hell do you want-"

"What do you think you're doing?"

You looked up and scoffed.

"Pardon?"

Tophats mouth opened and closed before he was cut off. Sunshine called out his name, asking him for help. Tophat looked back at you as if he was about to say something but he kept his mouth shut as you turner to leave.

_____________________________

Sunshine

You planted a kiss on his forehead and held him close.

You didn't know when you were gonna see Sunny again and you didn't want him to leave.

Yes working in the bigg city port is a great idea and it'll get him so far in life, but the thought of separation between the two of you was crushing you.

Sunshine leaned back on his heals and smiled at you.

"Don't cry! Remember, I'm your sunshine! And although I'll be separated from you I'll make you happy when skies are gray!"

You smiled as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Stay safe Sunshine. I love you."

_____________________________

Hercules

You ran along side the stretcher and down the halls of the hospital.

The one guy you wanted to be with had a bullet in his chest and was bleeding out right in front of you.

You screamed out his name as you were pulled away from him.

Through puffy eyes you saw Tencents grab you and hug you.

Hercules was like a father to him and he knew what you felt for Hercules.

You watcher the color drain from his face in the ambulance and watched his eyes fade as he was rolled down the hallways.

His hands became cold and clammy in yours and the dimples that once framed his face when he smiled were no longer there.

Sitting down in the waiting room OJ wrapped an arm around as another wave of years washed over you. Leaning against the man that has become a father to you you grabbed Tencents hand and smiled sweetly at him.

"He'll make it through this Hun. I know he will."

_____________________________

[ironstarker]

Highschool au where Popular football player tony stark has a crush on peter parker, the guy who his tutor for physics and math

Notes: Meant for this to be cute. I think it’s painful instead? I promise I didn’t mean to. I kind of want to write another 100k for this. Thank you for (unintentionally) giving me this sweet enemies to lovers prompt. I hope you enjoy it and it isn’t too far off of what you expected!

Warning(s): Bullying, Soft/Fluff, Surprise!Angst, Tony is a teenage dick (you know the boy in the class who likes you but pulls your hair?), Peter wears glasses, Perspective swap partway through

_______________________________________________________________________

“Hey, Penis! Heads up!”

Peter reacted in perfect time to receive a football square to the eye. His glasses went flying off his face. The force of the ball knocked him backwards on the bleachers, where he’d been doing his homework, sending papers flying all over. Peter groaned, looking to the football wobbling next to him. His legs were bent over the bleachers. They hadn’t quite made it over from the force of his fall.

He was reaching a hand up to his eye, half afraid he’d gone blind, when he heard thudding against the bleachers. Peter squinted with his good eye, but the sun was blocking the figure from view. “Shit. I thought that knocked you out, pipsqueak.” At first, Peter thought the hand stretching out towards him was meant to help him up. His hand left his eye and he reached out, only to be rebuffed by an elbow. “Whoa, whoa. Don’t get any wise ideas. I gotta get the ball back for the boys.” The voice was familiar to Peter, and then the face of its owner swam into view: Tony Stark. Hair matted to his forehead, sweat dripping down his brow, his jersey stained with grass and mud. Peter wanted to roll his eyes at the stubble that dotted the jock’s jaw. The other boy was so proud of it.

Tony swiped up his ball, leaving Peter to push and heave himself back into an upright position. Tony turned away from him and launched the ball back towards the field, “This one’s for you, lover!” He stuck his tongue out and pointed at one James Rhodes, number 85.

“You say that again and I’m gonna tell Coach that you were the one who swapped his mouthwash out for cologne!”

Tony stood there a moment, a roguish grin on his lips. Peter was too busy trying to collect his stray papers to notice when the other boy turned to face him. “Watch yourself, pipsqueak.” He reached out and tousled Peter’s hair, earning an annoyed grumble as Peter tried to bat his hand away.

Peter’s eye opened, and he was gentle as he pressed two fingertips to the spot where the football struck him. It was sore and was sure to leave a bruise that Aunt May would worry about later.

He didn’t take his eyes off of Tony, though. Instead, Peter watched the boy skip a few steps here and there as he made his way down to the field. The boy’s shoulder pads moved beneath his blue jersey as he jogged back to his teammates. Peter worried his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at the yellow 39 emblazoned on the back of his jersey. Peter had its counterpart, a white jersey, tucked away in his backpack.

Peter tried not to think too hard about the cruel way Tony handled the whole situation. But tears blurred his vision as he scrambled to stuff papers into his beige Jansport. They were supposed to have a tutoring session after practice. It was the only reason Peter hung around so late. Everybody knew how Peter felt about athletics: the meathead jocks ran the school, and kids like him were bullied. Kids like him got called “Penis Parker” by the likes of Clint Barton and the rest of them. The minute he’d joined the mathletes to compete on behalf of their school, the bullying had intensified. It went from name calling to kids shoving his face in a toilet bowl on the regular during his lunch hour. 

For a couple hours every day, Tony Stark was different.

He got to see the side of the jock that most didn’t. Stark was all Cheshire cat smiles with a cocky, New York accent to boot. It was irresistible to most, and Peter was embarrassed to say that included him. The boy ducked his head, shouldering his backpack so he could make his way down beneath the bleachers to find his glasses. It was his own fault for falling for the other teen. He knew what guys like Stark thought about. But Tony had said — Peter thought it childish to even remember, but the other boy had said he liked Peter. That he thought it was cute, how Peter bit down on his lip when he was watching Tony scribble his work down on his physics homework. Peter had gone beet red when the teen had tucked a curl behind his ear and smiled at him, leaning against the side of his locker at the end of the day when the halls were empty.

But that was the problem. The halls were empty, and nobody was around to see it. In those moments, Peter was certain Tony liked him. He could see it plain as day, written all over the other’s face. Times like these? Peter spared a glance towards the field. He saw Tony’s head turned towards him, that the boy was watching him. Peter looked away. 

It was hard telling that he gave a damn when he let his friends walk all over Peter the way that they did.

From across the field, Tony stared at the boy with the slumped shoulders. Even from where he was standing, he could see the way Peter was touching his eye. As soon as the football had snapped off in that direction, straight out of Clint’s hand and for the other boy’s face, Tony had felt a vein pop on his forehead. He whipped around towards the laughing jock, about to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing, when he heard a groan from the bleachers.

He rushed over there, heart pounding, taking the steps two at a time. He felt the eyes of the entire team on his back as he peered over to where Peter was sprawled on his back, his legs swung over the metal stands from where they hadn’t made the fall. Tony breathed a sigh of relief, then slapped a stupid smile on his face and said, “Shit, I thought that knocked you out, pipsqueak.”

So maybe he was a little hard on Peter. Maybe he kept it to business as he snagged the football and lobbed it back towards the field. Tony made his quips and his taunts, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. The football sailed right into Rhodes’ arms. Tony grinned, said a few parting words to Peter, touched his hair because god, he loved those curls, and then he was darting away, taking the stairs two at a time all over again. He felt eyes on him, but this time there was only a set. A set of dark brown, a pair that looked almost hazel in the right kind of light. Tony knew them well. He’d spent hours memorizing every detail of Peter’s face as the boy went through problem after problem with him. Tony didn’t need to pay attention. He didn’t struggle in math, nor did he struggle with physics. Maybe he didn’t want to apply himself, but that was a whole other story.

He’d rather apply himself to Peter Parker.

It was why, that day after he’d stuck around while Peter put his things in his locker, Tony had given him his away jersey. He’d pulled it out of his backpack, freshly laundered, and handed it to the smaller teen. The second half to a jersey was sacred to a jock, and he was pretty sure Peter’s fingers had quivered when he’d reached out to take it.

Peter had thanked him, the sweet kid that he was. The boy had gone redder than the folder tucked beneath his arm, and he was avoiding Tony’s eyes, staring instead down at the white Converse on his own feet. 

“Wear it Friday night.”

The boy’s head snapped up, his jaw going slack. “I — what?”

Tony rocked back on his heels and shrugged his shoulders. He adjusted the strap of his backpack, suddenly unable to meet Peter’s eyes this time. Instead, he stared at a faded sticker on one of the lockers across the hall. “You know. If you want, you should wear it to the game.” He snuck a look in Peter’s direction.

Peter had his eyes set on the yellow letters on the back of his jersey. Tony grimaced, fearing the worst, but then Peter flung himself into the taller teen’s arms, squeezing him in what was the tightest hug of his life. Tony wheezed out a laugh as the boy mumbled his thanks into the collar of his shirt. Tony’s arm slid around his back, where he could feel Peter’s jean jacket riding up to reveal the soft cotton of his t-shirt (a fucking Pythagorean theorem joke, the damn nerd). When Tony glanced down, he saw Peter was standing on the tips of his toes to give him the hug.

He couldn’t get it out of his head.

“ —th to Tony. Are you on this planet, idiot?” Rhodes was in his face, waving the football around. 

Tony scoffed. “Of course I am. What’s the next play?”

His best friend scoffed and shook his head, jerking his thumb in the direction of the rest of the team. They were roaming off towards the showers. Rogers was walking backwards with his hands up, almost as though he was asking what the hell was wrong with the other boy. Tony flipped him off, enjoying the satisfaction he got when Rogers rolled his eyes and turned around.

“We’re hitting the showers, dumbass. And then we’re all heading to Bucky’s for a cookout. Foster parents aren’t home. Said there’s gonna be beer. You in?”

“You know if you want beer all I have to do is wave my — ”

“If you say you’re gonna wave your dick around, I’m kicking you off the team myself. I don’t give a shit what Rogers says.”

Tony smirked, reaching out to give his friend a punch to his shoulder pads. “I was going to say my black card. But whatever floats your boat, man. I get it. No questions asked.”

Rhodes scoffed, tossing the football into Tony’s hands. “You coming?”

“In a second, I’ve got — ”

“ — A nerd to seduce? Yeah, I noticed.” Rhodes spared him a glance that told Tony his best friend knew all about his dirty little secret (Peter wasn’t, but damn it was hard with high school pecking orders). He turned on his heel and headed off the field. Tony stood there, lingering, and then he dropped the ball and headed in the opposite direction, jogging back towards the bleachers.

He ducked around behind them, heart sinking when he realized Peter wasn’t there. He was sure that he’d seen the other teen duck behind the bleachers after the football incident. Tony went to pull his phone out of his pocket, but he groaned when he realized it was tucked away in his jeans, which were in his locker. He was wearing his football gear. “Fuck,” he complained, and he spared a look at the locker room before he sprinted off for the bike racks.

Tony was sure that Peter would be there.

How many times had Tony offered to give the boy a ride? Too many. He wasn’t sure if Peter was afraid of the double entendre or what, but the other boy always refused. “My bike’s too big for your car,” Peter would say, and Tony thought that was a bullshit excuse, “and I need it in the morning to get to school.” Less bullshit, still an excuse.

When he rounded the corner, he saw Peter unchaining the lock on his bike. “Pete!” he shouted, but instead of looking at him, the kid continued fiddling with his lock. Tony jogged over to him, full of boundless energy despite the sweat he felt dripping down his spine from the team’s impromptu scrimmage. “Hey, I was looking for you — ”

“What do you want, Tony?”

Okay, that made him stop in his tracks. His cleats scuffed the pavement. Tony’s hands came up to grip the inside of the shoulder pads, tugging them a little further down, away from his neck. “I thought that we were on for tutoring this afternoon,” he said, resisting the urge to toe at the pavement. “The guys and I are heading to Bucky’s, so — ”

“Great. Sounds like tutoring’s cancelled.” Peter got to his feet, the bike lock in his hands. He snapped the lock back into place and slid his backpack around to the front of his body so he could tuck it away. The boy’s fingers froze once it was unzipped, and Tony shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“What? Did someone put a snake in your backpack?”

Instead, the boy pulled out his jersey. Tony bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning. Peter was just carrying it around with him? Yeah, maybe it was a little dangerous. If he opened it and somebody saw, there would be a lot of questions asked about it. Tony had this whole thing planned for the game, he was going to ask Peter out and —

He grunted as the fabric was pushed unceremoniously into his chest. “Hey, what’re you — I told you to wear it on Friday.”

“I’m not going to.”

There was a beat of silence, and Peter let go of the jersey. It dropped to the ground down between them, the white fabric dirtied by the pavement. Tony inhaled. “What?”

Peter raised his head, finally, and met Tony’s eyes. The taller boy was startled to see a tear streaking down Peter’s cheek. His eyes were rimmed red. The spot where he’d been struck by the football was already forming a dark bruise. Tony didn’t know where Peter’s glasses were. “I said that I’m not going to wear it.” He brought a hand up and roughly wiped at his cheek.

Tony lurched forward, grabbing Peter’s wrist as the boy made to turn away from him and climb onto his bike. “Why not?” 

“Ask your friends.”

“Come on, Peter. That’s fucking unfair and you — ”

“Unfair?” Peter yanked his hand out of Tony’s grasp, and the jock’s hand fell uselessly to his side. He stared at the other boy, bewildered. “What’s unfair is the way you treat me in front of them. Like I’m some — some secret you’re so ashamed of. What is this? A game?” Peter sniffled, his bottom lip wobbling. He whispered, “A bet?”

“What? No, of course it’s not — Jesus, Pete. It’s not like that.” Tony bent to swipe the shirt off of the ground, ignoring the dirt that smeared across the back of it. He gripped the fabric tight in his hand. 

There were so many things he wanted to tell Peter. He wanted to tell the boy that Tony had stared at the back of his head all semester last year, right before the summer. How he was the one who had written those stupid notes and stuffed them in Peter’s locker. Tony was sure the kid thought they were from MJ. What a load of crap. The confessions were there, on the tip of Tony’s tongue, but Peter shook his head.

“Find someone else to tutor you.”

Too stunned to do anything else but stand there, Tony watched Peter swing a leg over his bike. He stared after Peter as the boy pedaled away, his beige backpack swinging back and forth as he went. Tony looked down at the jersey in his hands. A flash of anger came over him and his head snapped up. He wadded the jersey into a ball and chucked it down the sidewalk.

“Fine! Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Parker!” The shouted words echoed throughout the empty parking lot. 

Peter didn’t turn around.

[weirdochick56]

I love you too, you big dork- Bucky Barnes One Shot

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. Fluff. A bit of angst.

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU characters/plots.

Word Count: 6, 034 words

Summary: Bucky and the Reader are best friends. Best friends who are in love with eachother, that is. When the Reader walks in on a conversation Bucky is having with Sam, Steve and Thor in which he says he doesn’t love her, she’s too heartbroken to face him. But maybe a little bit of distance is all it takes to make someone realize that they need someone more than they realize. 

A/N: Guys, I literally refuse to watch Endgame. I’m so scared someone I love (literally the entire cast) is gonna die so yeah. I’m good staying in my world where Infinity War and Endgame don’t exist. (I’m joking. I’m sure I’ll watch it eventually.)

*

You groan softly as another strand of hair gets caught in your lip gloss, and begin peeling it off your lip slowly. Your eyes darted everywhere, hand clutching your small purse so tight, your knuckles turned white. 

There were a lot of people here. Too many to count, actually, and you found yourself bumping into partying bodies every five minutes and having to stumble past in your tall heels after muttering a small ‘sorry’. It was a bit overwhelming. 

When Tony said he was going to be throwing a party to celebrate your latest win, you expected something of a more...intimate nature. Just the Avengers and a few close friends. Not such a huge party, with all the lights and bar filled with drinks and snacks.. and you certainly didn’t expect this many people to be invited. Most of which were celebrities and world-renowned corporate leaders, no less.

You weren’t afraid to admit that although being a superhero and working alongside the world’s mightiest heroes, you felt utterly inferior to all the beautiful models and actresses surrounding your every angle. I mean they were all so tall and slender and just...mesmerizing. And you were just, well, you. Good old’ Y/n. Ordinary and safe. Dull. Tedious. Boring.

You weren’t big on all the glitz and glamour and mystique that came with being an internationally-known hero. Your abilities had given you an advantage when it came to war tactics and fighting and being a wonderful warrior on the field- which granted, also gave you a great advantage work-wise, but other than that, there wasn’t much more to you. 

Most of your life had been miserable thanks to how ‘special’ your abilities made you and consequently, most of it was spent inside your own head rather than caring about your outer appearance and social habitats. It wasn't until you’d been recruited into SHIELD and later on the Avengers and found a purpose- that you started caring about the way you presented yourself to the rest of the world.

Even now, clad in a gorgeous black bodycon cocktail dress, soft curves all on display, and your hair pinned up into an elegant bun with only a few strands framing your delicately-painted face- you couldn’t help but feel utterly uncomfortable. Out of place in this glamorous party entirely.

Your gaze finally lands on a familiar face amidst the colorful party lights huge party crowd and you can't help but heave a relieved sigh.

“Tony!” You tap on his shoulder, having to practically yell over the music. Tony halts his conversation with the famous party guests. 

“...uh sorry, just hold on a sec.”  He smirks charmingly then he spins around to face you. “Ye-” he stops mid-sentence when his gaze lands on you, eyes widening like two saucers and jaw snapping open. “Holy shit,” he breathes, eyes wandering over your face and body a hundred miles per minute, his gaze unbelieving. 

“Damn, kiddo. I knew you were a stunner but damn.” His eyes are practically bulging from his head. 

You feel yourself blush aggressively, smiling in your usual shy manner to hide how much you didn’t believe what he was saying. “Thank you.”

“You look stunning, kiddo.” He smiles brightly, flashing you those pearly whites.

You roll your eyes at him, shaking off the compliment as smoothly as you can. “Thanks. Hey, have you seen Bucky?” You frown, looking around for your best friend. “I know he said he didn’t wanna mingle, but I thought he’d be chilling out in a secluded corner or something for sure. I mean, it’s what he usually does.”  

When you face him again, Tony is smiling down at you, all..knowing and self-important.

You instantly shrink away from his condescending silence, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “What?”

He laughs smugly. “Nothing. I’m just wondering what exactly it will take for either of you to admit that you love eachother.” 

You’re taken aback by Tony’s words, freezing momentarily with shock. You can’t help it when your heart races at the idea of James Buchanan Barnes actually loving you back but quickly shake the notion off, not wanting to dwell on something that could never happen and as a consequence only hurt you. 

You push an innocent smile out onto your face, ignoring the extreme resistance from your facial muscles and how sick to your gut your next words make you feel. “Well, of course I love Bucky. He’s my best friend.” 

Your shrill tone causes you to mentally cringe as you leisurely swallow the bile creeping out your throat, physically forcing it back down your esophagus.

But Tony sees right through your poorly-executed act, sighing and shaking his head as if he knew. And he did know.

“We both know exactly what I mean kiddo. You can’t keep acting like you’re not completely head over heels for eachother forever.”

You suppress your fluttering heart as much as possible, opting to instead paint a measured smile that could fool the pants off anyone on your face. Choosing your words carefully, you are even more careful to speak them with a breezy kind of casualness to your tone. 

“Ugh. Me and Bucky? Pfft, that’s honestly gross. He’s like a brother. Can you imagine dating a brother?” You scrunch your nose up in disgust then force an amused chuckle as if the notion is absolutely ludicrous even though it’s literally been the only thing on your mind for the past year. “Nothing like that could ever happen between us.”

Every word that comes out of your mouth is a single stab to your chest, but you try to keep your voice leveled and light as a feather. You hadn’t expected it to be as painful to say out loud as it was, though, and despite your resolve to fool Iron Man, your voice wavers slightly. You cringe mentally when Tony raises a single, skeptical, dark brow. 

He knew. He always knew, dammit.  

“Whatever floats your boat kiddo. I guess.” He sighs. “I’m pretty sure I saw him hanging out with Thor, Steve, and Sam out on the balcony.”

You facepalm, eyes lighting. “Oh shit, yeah! How come I didn’t think of that!?” You smile brightly up at Tony, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Tony. love ya’!”

You hurry off as fast as you can in heels (which is a surprising amount). You hear Tony laugh behind you, mumbling under his breath. 

“It’s only a matter of time, kiddo.” 

*

When you approach the balcony, you see all four men seated across from eachother, loud laughter erupting from their mouths and a bottle of some unknown substance settled in between them. 

Bucky sat with his back to you, and you lick your lips when you notice his long hair gelled back into a neat man-bun, your favorite hairstyle on him. His suit jacket was carelessly thrown over the couch he was sitting on and the sleeves of his dressing shirt were rolled up, exposing his veiny flesh arm and his menacing steel one. His back muscles flexed whenever he shifted positions and for a moment you genuinely questioned if James Buchanan Barnes could be considered a kink. 

Literally, anything and everything the man did was sexy. God, he made the most mundane things sexy. Like frowning, or making pancakes or laughing. You sigh, thinking about all the cute facial expressions that handsome face could twist and spread into. 

Interrupting your train of thoughts, you focus back on your friends. They seemed to be having a great time, and you were slightly jealous about not being invited to be a part of the mini-celebration. 

You raise a determined brow, ready to join the party when something abruptly stops you mid-step. It’s Bucky’s voice. It sounds...off.

It’s hushed and pissed-off, very unlike the demeanor the rest of the group gave off with their boisterous laughter and witty smirks. So unlike it, in fact, that it forces you to nestle behind the slightly cracked balcony door and eavesdrop on their conversation. 

Okay, yeah, not your proudest moment, but you were curious as to what the trio of friends could’ve possibly said to Bucky to get him so worked up. His teeth were gritted and his hands were clenched into fists as he leaned threateningly forward. 

“Would you stop fucking saying that? She’s a kid, for fuck’s sake! I could never feel something like that for her.” 

You frown. Who was he talking about? You? You decide not to jump to conclusions, secretly holding onto the hope that it wasn’t, because deep down you know if it was, your heart would be broken.

“...I could never feel something like that for her.” You shudder, waiting for someone else to speak with a racing heart.

Steve sighs. “Buck, man, I love you. You know you’re like a brother to me, but that’s exactly why I have to be completely honest with you.” He leans in, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips as he pats Bucky’s shoulder comfortingly. “You’re in love with Y/n. There’s no way around it, man, I’m sorry. You’ll have to stop denying it to yourself eventually.”

You swallow a gasp, heart fluttering. Shit, they are talking about me, you cursed mentally, clutching your hands to your chest and pursing your lips tightly. 

The seconds seem to drag on into minutes and then into hours until finally, Bucky speaks up again, voice somewhat defeated. 

“She’s a kid and my best friend. I can’t have feelings for her,” he mumbles decisively and your chest clenches, eyes prickling with unshed tears.  

Sam clicks his tongue sympathetically. “That’s the irony of love, man. You don’t really get to choose who you feel it towards.” 

Thor frowns. “But...Y/n is extremely beautiful. An astonishing character, as well. And she is without engagement.” His frown deepens. “I’m failing to see exactly what the issue is?”

Bucky sighs defeatedly then he turns to the god with a small sad smile that makes your chest ache. It’s devoid of any and all hope which slowly begins to kill yours as well. 

“She is stunning, isn’t she?” His smile lightens up a bit, light grey eyes getting a far-off look. “I always thought she was a classic beauty. Like the ones you saw back in our time, Steve.” He looks at his best friend, who smiles and nods warmly in quiet response. “She’s so smart, too. Do you remember when she first arrived here? How she fixed that problem Tony had been struggling with in his lab for weeks in just a few minutes?” He pauses to laugh incredulously. “It was like-” he motions his head blowing up, making explosion sounds. 

You suppress a giddy giggle, pressing a hand to your mouth as you listen closely. 

“A-and she’s so fucking kind and giving. She never says no to doing you a favor. Ever, no matter what it is or how hard it may be. She’s always more worried about our comfort than her own. It’s so sweet.” He chuckles. “Most of the time I’m worried she’ll neglect herself if she’s hurt in our stead. Because that’s just the kind of person she is.” 

His expression grows serious but still soft and tender. “She wakes up earlier than all of us and goes to sleep later than all of us, working. She thinks no one knows or notices because she thinks no one cares enough to want to know or notice. But I do. I always do,” he mumbles softly, picking at his fingernails. 

A long silence stretches and your heart is beating so erratically in your chest, you’re sure it’s in the process of bursting from your ribcage.

Finally, Steve speaks. “See? You can lie to us all you want Bucky, but it’s yourself who you can’t run away from.”

Bucky blinks as if snapping out of a trance. He clenches his jaw tightly, plunging his fingers into his hair and rubbing hard, messing it up. “Fuck,” he growls, frustrated. 

“I don’t love her. I don’t.”

You take that as your cue to walk in, a disturbingly convincing smile plastered on your face. 

“You don’t love who, Buck?” You play it off smoothly, casually strutting into the balcony.

Sam’s, Steve’s and Thor’s eyes immediately snapped towards you. Bucky, took a few seconds to fully view you. 

He stiffens up at first, then slowly shifts to you, a small smile on his face. It freezes there, though, when his eyes land on you, all dolled up. 

It wasn’t like you at all to dress up. Most of the time, you opted to hide underneath big hoodies and baggy shirts and pants. You just didn’t feel comfortable giving anyone the power to be able to judge your appearance in any way, shape, or form. 

As a superhero, you usually hid behind a large cloak, shielding a bit of your face and body effectively from the public. You’d decided you’d try something out of your comfort zone today. 

So the shock factor was already there, but watching Bucky’s face morph from a very forced relaxed smile to completely gobsmacked expression, lips parted, pupils dilated, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed thickly was absolutely worthy of a picture. 

Sam interrupts your little moment, wolf-whistling.

“Well shit, Y/n. I had no idea you all of that underneath...” he laughs lightly, gesturing towards you lightly. 

Steve elbows him sharply as you raise a brow at Sam. 

“Really Sam?”

He shrugs, rubbing the sore spot on his ribs. “What? It’s true.” 

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes at his best friend before turning to you with his usual chivalrous, soft smile. “You look gorgeous, kid.”

Thor’s smile is brighter than the sun as he takes you in shamelessly. “You are quite the sight, Y/n. Such beauty has never been heard of or seen in all the nine worlds!”

Fighting off a raging blush, you snorted in a very unladylike manner. “C’ mon guys. Stop trying to make me feel good about myself. We all know I’m not that much to look at.”

They all immediately shut your statement down. “Y/n, babe, have you seen yourself already? You’re gorgeous,” Sam huffs, rolling his eyes. 

You try to protest, but Thor quickly cuts you off, a wolfish grin spread on his handsome face. “Y/n, you underestimate your beauty. It shines brighter than many of the stars in this galaxy, I’ll tell you that much.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying really hard not to cry with adoration. You didn’t need their approval to feel good about yourself, but it sure was nice to have the accolades of a demi-god.  

“Y/n,” Steve pulls your attention back to him, a comforting smile pulled over his lips. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

With their earnest faces and watchful eyes, you give in to the urge and hide your boiling hot face in your hands, groaning. “You guys! I’m gonna cry.” 

They quiet down and you slowly pull your hands from your face. You’re met with Bucky’s soft gaze, pure, earnest admiration lining every part of his gorgeous face, making his eyes shimmer with a certain honest beauty you’d never seen on him. 

Your breath hitches at the beauty of the way he looked at you. The softness, the sincerity. The support.

You pause, looking at him and for a moment forgetting other people were in the same room as you. right now, only he and you existed. 

You waited with a caught breath for him to say something. His eyes watered, you bite back a gasp at how raw emotion lining his eyes and expression to the brim was.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers quietly. “Absolutely beautiful.” 

Your heart races and a soft smile tugs at your lips. “Thank you, Buck.” 

He stares at you for a minute longer before swallowing sharply and looking back at his others friends, almost like he just realized they were there. 

You notice the trio looking at him with ‘told you so’ expressions, smug smirks curling their lips. Sam snickers. 

You have hope for a split second. Hope that he’ll turn back around and declare that he’s been in love with you too, that he wants you just as much as you do him. And your heart inflates with happiness and love and you hold onto that emotion for safekeeping. 

And then it’s broken when Bucky shakes his head firmly ‘no’. 

The guys’ faces fall. They know what that means. They don’t know that you also know what that means, but it doesn’t matter because somehow Bucky has once again managed to fix and break your heart in the matter of a few seconds. 

He turns back around to face you and you notice that although he still has that tenderness to him, that softness you saw a few minutes ago, it now looks tortured in his gaze. Repressed.  

He smirks playfully as if to cover it up, but it looks forced. 

“Maybe we could wingman eachother. I’ll get you some hot Hollywood actor only if you promise to get me a Victoria’s Secret model.” He chuckles and winks at you. 

You suppress the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over and force a small smile. 

“I think I’m good, thanks. I’ll uh-” you push past the huge lump in your throat. “I’ll see you guys later.” You spin on your heels headed for the door.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you catch Steve’s eye. He smiles sympathetically. And mouths a small ‘sorry.’

Before you fully make it outside, you catch a small bit of their upcoming conversation. 

“Really dude!? Friend zoning her? Why can’t you just admit you’re absolutely gaga about her?!”

Bucky groans under his breath, exasperated. “Have you thought maybe it’s cause I’m not?”

You walk away faster, unable to hear more of the conversation. Too painful.

*

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen and find Bucky sitting on a stool, sipping on a cup of coffee. 

You barely spare him a glance, headed straight for the fridge. Normally, you’d be chatting him up, hanging onto his every word and watching with ever-growing excitement and intent as he told you about whatever new adventure he’d been on to conquer the still-unknown 21st century. But not today.

“Oh, mornin’ doll,” he chirps happily, excited to see you. 

You merely smile politely, closing the fridge door behind you softly. “Morning James.” 

And then you simply walk out, water bottle in hand. 

Bucky freezes, raising a brow. 

“James?” he mumbles under his breath. 

*

That afternoon, Bucky is lounging on the living room couch, watching one of your favorite movies of all time, Scream.

When he sees you, he instantly perks up, excited at the prospect of watching a movie with you. “Hey doll, look I’ve got-” 

You cut him off sheepishly. “Sorry Buck, I can’t speak right now, I’m a bit busy.”

He visibly deflates with disappointment but smiles understandingly nonetheless. “Oh..okay.” 

 And with that, he sees you leave in a hurry, suspicion nudging him in the back of his mind. 

He gets worried. Were you...were you mad? But why? What did he do?...

*

The next time Bucky sees you, it’s been a few days since he’s talked to you. You were always rushing off somewhere, suddenly entirely busy. He was getting suspicious...and hurt. You never seemed to have time to be more than just polite to him. 

The other Avengers, on the other hand, got more than just a few minutes of your time.

He was convinced he’d done something to anger you. He just didn’t know what and it was driving him nuts to try and figure it out. 

He’d asked Steve and Sam for help earlier that week but all they’d done is make him feel worse about the whole thing. 

“I just don’t know what I’ve done,” Bucky growls, frustrated. 

Sam and Steve look at eachother, snickering. 

“What?” Bucky frowns. 

Sam sighs. “I think we’ve called you out on your bullshit enough times, Buck. You’re a grown-ass man. Figure it out.”

So he decided to ask the only other person who could tell him what was wrong with you; you. 

And so Bucky waited, hiding out in your room until you come back in.

You sigh as you step into your room, kicking your shoes off and curling your fingers around the ends of your crop top and tugging upwards, intending fully to take it off. 

 “Oh my God, doll, stop!” Bucky’s gruff yell startles you so much, you accidentally send a vase hurtling towards his head.

 He shrieks, ducking down just in time to dodge it. It crashes on the wall behind him, breaking into a milling tiny pieces.

Holding a hand to your rapidly-beating heart, your huff. “Jesus fucking- Bucky! You scared the living heck out of me, you dickhead!” 

He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, doll.” 

“What are you even doing here?” you breathe, brows furrowing in confusion.

He suddenly grows stern, posture straightening out and eyes leveling with yours, arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest. “Can I know why the hell you have you been avoiding me?” 

You’re taken aback by his bluntness, but manage to mask your shock fairly well with fake innocence, pretending to be busy taking your socks off.

“Avoiding you?” You snort. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I haven’t been avoiding you.” 

He chuckles humorlessly, voice gruff with simmering anger. “Oh, don’t lie to me, doll. We both know I’m able to see through your bullshit easily.” 

Something about how sure he sounded in the last statement hit a nerve within you. Your blood boils. How can someone so oblivious to how you felt about them be so sure that they know you so well?

“Stop, Bucky. Okay? I haven’t been avoiding you, so just...leave me alone,” you heave a tired sigh. 

“No.” His response is so quick, so resolute, it nearly gives you whiplash.

You laugh incredulously, raising a brow at him. “No?”

“No.” 

His response is easy. Almost too easy. 

You scoff. “Why?”

He snorts, looking at you like you’d grown two heads. “Because you’re angry with me and I have no idea why, doll.”

“No, I’m not,” you mumble quietly.

“Yes, you are.” 

“Okay. How do you know that for sure?” You challenge. 

The corner of his mouth curls arrogantly. “Your fists are clenched and you’re biting the inside of your cheek.”

He was right. Ugh, of course, he was. You slowly release your clenched fists and relax your tense jaw, sucking on your teeth and avoiding his smug gaze. Your blood boils, even more, swarming your head with angry thoughts. 

“Stop acting like you know me,” you suddenly snap, eyes watering. 

Gosh, why did he know you so well? Why did he have to make not loving him so hard? Why did he have to know small cute details like that? And why did he have to be so- perfect and beautiful?

“But...I do know you,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like there was no other answer but that one.

You wanted him to stop having the upper hand here. But who were you kidding? He always would. Because you were in love with him and he wasn’t in love with you. 

“No, you don’t,” you hiss, hands slowly clenching into fists again, trying to contain your ever-growing anger.

“Yes, I do,” he insists again, so sure of himself. 

“No, you don’t,” you growl. 

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you-”

“Why are we even arguing about this!?” He snaps aggressively before his tone softens. “C’mon doll, we sound like children.” He sighs, licking his lips and runs his fingers through his hair. “l- look, the point is, you’re pissed at me. I just need to what the hell it is I did to deserve it, is all, alright?” 

You bite your lip. “Listen, James just leave me alone please I’m-”

“No, see!? Since when do you call me James? Honestly, Y/n! What the hell have I done to you to deserve you treating me like this?”  His voice cracks as he steps closer to you, hands reaching out to touch you. “Why are you pushing me away?” He whispers softly, hurt.  

That’s it. You can’t hold back all the overwhelming emotions bubbling within you for the past few years anymore. All the hurt and anger of years upon years of loving a man who could never love you back like you did him, come bubbling to the surface. You break like a festering sore after it’s been holding back all it had inside for far too long.

“You made me fall in love with you!” Your scream is powerful, deafening. 

Bucky’s eyes widen, mouth snapping shut, body freezing. If it weren’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at him. he looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

But you can’t stop now that you’ve started. Unable to avoid vomiting your confession onto him, you continue, fingers gripping your hair.

“Y-you‘re just- there,” you breathe, licking your lips to moisten up your dry mouth. “In me, all the time. Every fucking second of every-fucking-day and I just-“ you lick your lips then chuckle humorlessly. “I’ve tried so fucking hard to fight it off when I realized what was happening. So, so hard. But that only made it worse and before I knew it, BAM!” You clap your hands together. “There you were Bucky Barnes. Everywhere within me.”

Bucky breathes in a sharp breath. “Doll I-“

“And it just drives me absolutely insane. Like- why couldn’t you just stay my best friend? Why couldn’t you just make me want you as a friend? W-why did you have to go ahead and be all sweet and kind and gorgeous and perfect and just-God. You give me butterflies.” You open your eyes as wide as they’ll go. “Did you know that? Butterflies Bucky, I mean...who the fuck gets butterflies?”

“Doll.”

“And I’m just so...” you laugh humorlessly, searching for the correct words to describe what you felt towards this man. This man who- despite everything- you couldn’t help but love.

“Doll.”

“...pissed at you. Because you can’t fucking love me back. Yeah, that’s why I’m pissed! Because here I am, young n’ foolish Y/n; entirely, completely, undoubtedly, fully, stupidly, ludicrously in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes. And there you are, treating me like a kid you can never love back. as anything other than your little sister. So ther-!”

It happens in just a few seconds and you don’t feel it until it’s happening, but Bucky strides up to you in just a few steps, gripping your jaw in his big warm hands before tipping your head back gently. 

Your eyes meet and you swear your limbs are live wires, full with charged electricity every time you look into his beautiful stormy irises. There is so much tender care in them. So much pain and hope and beauty all swirling and creating such a divine turmoil that the breath gets knocked straight out of your lungs, almost like you’ve been punched in the gut or something. 

“Buck?”

Then he crashes his lips against yours and it’s...not everything you dreamed of. No, because what you dreamed of could never compare to what Bucky’s lips on yours felt in real life.

Soft unlike anything you could’ve ever imagined, but firm and anchoring all at once, you can’t help it when you suck in a sharp breath through your nose. Kissing him was like feeding your greatest craving and sedating your every heartache momentarily. Kissing him was like having someone charge you with electricity, your fingertips tingled and your cheeks heated up and you’d never felt more alive. 

It takes a moment for your brain to somewhat process what was happening right now. Bucky kissed you. He was kissing you right now. And it’s only when you begin to comprehend what’s happening, that you respond to the kiss, hands gripping his neck and fingers tangling in his soft strands of hair as you kissed back with all the passion and hurt and anger and love you felt towards him. 

He pushes back, deepening the kiss. Everything about it was demanding and soft and somehow you couldn’t help but think that it fits you and him too well. Like it was how it was always meant to happen. In a heat-of-the-moment kind of way that also said so much more than words ever could. But also soft and kind of inconvenient. Unexpected and all-consuming. You and Bucky. 

The kiss is gone almost as soon as it started and before you know it, Bucky pulls back. You’re both panting softly, and you can feel his warm breath caressing your nose and nothing has ever felt so incredible. 

You’re still unable to fully process what had just happened, your heart is still beating erratically in your chest and your lips are tingly with all sorts of emotions you can’t fully make out right now. 

His hands, all warm and rough and big, are still cupping your jaw, as he tenderly traces a finger over your cheekbone and he’s gazing into your eyes, searching. Searching for an answer. 

“Say something, doll. Please,” he begs quietly.

You blink several times before responding in a passing breath. “Why?” 

He sighs, slumping slightly against you. “Because I love you. As more than just a friend.”

And there it was. All you’d ever wanted to hear the past few years. What haunted your sleep, the very heaviness in your heart that only grew with each passing day. And there it was, staring you right in the eyes. 

You instantly push away from him, tears blurring your vision. “Don’t lie to me like that,” you rasp, voice broken with overwhelming emotions. 

Bucky sputters, panic rising in his stormy grey eyes. “Oh my God doll, no! That’s not it at all, I would never-” 

“I heard you the other night. At the party,” you sob, aggressively wiping at your tears as they rolled down your cheeks. “You told Sam, Steve, and Thor that you could never feel something like that for me. And you meant it.” 

He shakes his head, face twisted into a regretful frown. He says nothing.

Your anger and immense hurt at his silence rise within you in uncontrollable waves of emotion. Your lips quiver in preparation for another wrecked sob to escape your lips.

“I understand,” you rasp. “Can you just-“ you sigh, turning away from him to hide the tears the rolled down your cheeks insistingly. “Leave please?”

“No.”

You wipe a fresh set of tears rolling down your face before spinning around to face him, indignantly livid. “You-!”

“I love you.” His eyes are a stormy grey that leaves you breathless and for the second time, you catch wind of that same raw feeling in his eyes as when he’d seen you all dressed up in that balcony. Vulnerable, raw, carnal.

“I’ll repeat that in case you couldn’t hear it. I. Love. You.”

Your breath catches at his words as he leisurely steps closer to you in short, cautious steps. His eyes never leave yours, their intensity blazing through your very being, alighting your nerves and making your heart pound erratically. You’re frozen in place at the certainty with which he says his words. Astounded.

“I am in love with you,” he gulps, his voice breaking with emotion. “So entirely, completely, undoubtedly, fully, stupidly, ludicrously in love with you, Y/f/n Y/l/n,” he laughs a little as he uses your own words against you.

A joy so unlike anything you’ve ever felt blossoms in your chest and you swallow the growing lump in your throat. “A-are you...serious?”

You don’t know if you’ve mumbled anything coherent, seeing as your heart is thumping so erratically in your ears you can’t hear anything else.

He’s close enough to kiss now, his breath warm and inviting as they softly caress your cheeks. He gently grips your hands in his and leans his face closer to yours.

His nose is brushing against yours, his eyelashes flutter and tickle your own eyelids and your breath gets lodged in your throat, lips parted as they anxiously await his own. They never come though, and just when you think he’ll kiss you again, his lips switch directions and press against your cheek instead, kissing away a tear with a touch so tender and caring, you shiver.

You swallow hard, voice raspy and breathless. “Really?”

His metal hand is cool against your flushed skin as he pulls back to look into your eyes again, earnest and kind.

“Doll I am so confused and unsure about so many things.” He chuckles softly, then turns serious. “But you are not one of those things. Never have been, never will be.”

The vigor in his honesty is striking.

He looks you in the eye. “The only reason I force myself to wake up every damn morning is because I know I’ll be able to see your face. It’s because no matter how dark it gets in here,” he points to his head, then grips your hand and slowly brings it to his chest so it rests over his fast-beating heart. “Or here, I know I’ll always get to see your beautiful smile the very next day. The only light at the end of the tunnel. I just- sometimes my head gets so dark and my heart just breaks over and over again without repair and I think I’ll never get out but-”

“Buck,” you whimper in interruption, too pained at the rawness of his hurt and suffering. 

“No, let me finish, please.” His voice cracks but he still smiling at you with such overpouring joy, you don’t know if he’s sad or happy or both.

 “But then I remember I have you. Even if it’s just as a friend. And that was completely fine by me, doll. Because I got to know you. And I mean really know you, I got to see all your sides. The dedicated, hard-working, focused one. The funny, sarcastic, goofy one. The passionate, fiery one. God, you have no idea how much I love it when your eyes light up when you’re pissed or fired up or when you laugh.” His smile widens. “I also got to see the honest, kind, loving caring side of you. You were always there when I fell apart and you were the only thing that got me through it. All of it. You’re loyal and sweet and selfless and I didn’t care that I wouldn’t get to hold you in my arms or kiss you or call you mine if it meant that I wouldn’t have you anymore.” His eyes water and he grips your fingers tighter as if holding you back from running away. 

“I’ve never met a more beautiful human being in my life. You’re the opposite of me. You’re light and hope and kindness and love and I just- I didn’t want to ruin that. You. Us.”

He laughs incredulously. “But I love you. I love you. God, I’ll never get tired of saying that. It feels so good,” he breathes out to himself giddily. 

It takes a while for him to notice that you haven’t said anything in the span of the past few minutes, but when he’s snapped out of his own ecstasy,  he turns to look at you, the smile falling off his face. 

You’re frozen in your spot, tears freely rolling down your cheeks. 

Bucky groans. “Oh God. I’ve completely messed this up, haven’t I.” He begins freaking out. “I-I’m s-so sorry doll. I didn’t mean to scare you into anything. We can just stay friends just please don’t avoid me again. I promise I won’t-”

“Bucky,” you finally speak up, stopping him with a stoic and expressionless face.

He gulps loudly, “yeah?”

A sweet, tearful smile breaks out on your face.  “I love you too, you big dork.” 

He laughs, relieved. 

You smirk. “Kiss me. Now.”

 He quirks a brow but returns your smirk. “Gladly.”

Then you both lean in and just when your lips are about to meet again, a voice comes booming from the intercom in your room. Or well, many of them. 

“FINALLY.”

 ***

Honestly, IDK. I need some fluffy romance in my life so here it is. 

A Special thanks to:

@wildefire - my Marvel tag (thank you!)

And of course my incredible forevers!

@jessikared97

@lilypalmer1987

@ladyofletters67

@meowsekai

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Sex and Violence- Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,313

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Coming in through the front, you and Dean flashed your badges to the bouncer who let you in without any questions. Entering the place, all you could hear were men cheering on women to show off their bodies. It was a very sexist job, and you hated how they had to sell their bodies to make money. It was disgusting how these men would treat these women.

Looking at Dean, you saw him admiring them women who were dancing on poles before you stepped in front of him, placing your hand on his chest which got his attention.

“You want a stripper, I’ll strip for you. Much more intimidate than this, I can promise that. The only difference? You can touch me,” you smirked.

“I am so taking you up on that offer,” he groaned, licking his lips. He looked up to see an older man counting the money he’s made. “However, there is the manager. We need to talk to him.”

“Right,” you nodded as you both made your way over there. Introducing yourself to him, you flashed your badge to get him to open up to you.

“I'm looking for three girls. Jasmine, Aurora, and Ariel,” Dean said.

“You seriously think those names mean anything to me?”

“One's a redhead about 5'9". The other one's Asian, about—”

“You have any idea how many girls I deal with? Fake names, fake hair, fake,” the man motioned to his breasts making you roll your eyes.

“You gotta have some sort of paperwork. Cheque stubs. Some way to keep track of the strippers,” you said, making him look at you, giving you a once over quickly.

“Please, exotic dancers. Independent contractors working for cash. I stay out of their hair, they stay out of what little I have left.”

“Three of your customers murdered their wives. You don't think that that's weird?”

“Yeah. I think that's super-fucking weird. But you know what it ain't? My problem. If you’re interested in a job, call me,” he smiled before handing you his card.

“Leave right now,” Dean growled, making the manager choose wisely.

“What, I’m glad I’m hot enough to get an offer,” you shrugged.

“This is all mine,” he said to you in a jealous tone. It was so hot when he got jealous.

“Then this,” you gently grabbed his cock, “is mine.” Dean closed his eyes as he tried to get control over his thoughts and body when you spotted Sam. “Come on.”

Taking his hand, you walked through the sea of men before reaching the younger brother.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“No. You?”

“A little. I just talked to Bobby, we officially have a theory.”

“What’s that?”

“Siren, but the siren's not actually a myth, it's more of a beautiful creature that preys on men, enticing them with their siren song.”

“Let me guess, 'Welcome to the Jungle?' No, no. Warrant's 'Cherry Pie’,” Dean smirked.

“Their song is more of a metaphor, like... like their call, their allure, you know?”

“So, they shake their thing and the guys zombie out,” you put the pieces together.

“Basically, yeah. Sirens lived on islands, sailors would chase 'em, completely ignoring the rocky shores... and dash themselves to pieces.”

“Sounds like Adam and his buddies.”

“Yeah. If you were a siren in '09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons, where would you set up shop?”

“So, whatever floats the guy's boat, that's what they look like?” you asked.

“Yeah. You see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most and then they can kind of, like, cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion.”

“So, it could all be the same chick? Morphing into, uh, to different dream girls?” Dean wondered.

“Yeah, actually. Probably. Sirens are usually pretty solitary.”

“Watch out boys, I may have to keep an eye on you more closely. Don’t want you killing me for some other woman,” you teased lightly.

“How do we kill it?” Dean asked after he laughed at your banter.

“Bobby's working on it. Even if we figure that out, how the hell are we gonna find it? It could be anybody.”

“Well, I know I could use some entertainment that isn’t women. As hard as I tried back in the day, I don’t swing that way,” you declared.

“How hard did you try?” Dean asked.

“Not the point,” you quickly said with a smile before leaning into his body, pressing your mouth close to his ear. “Wouldn’t you rather find out what I have under this dress than waste any more time here?” Nibbling on his ear lobe, you pulled away with a sweet smile.

“Sammy don’t come back to the room anytime soon,” Dean said as he slapped his brother’s chest before leaving with you.

“Wait, Dean, what am I supposed to do!” he exclaimed, sighing when he was out of earshot. Looking around the club, he watched some women dance before leaving the joint. He didn’t like strip clubs solely for the purpose of seeing those women degrade themselves. Plus, strippers aren’t his type. Cara Roberts, now she was his type.

“I didn’t know you had that,” Dean chuckled when you put away the lingerie you bought in secret to surprise him. Sam was out looking into yet another man who had killed in the name of love. Last night was full of great sex after Dean found out how good you looked in skimpy panties and heels.

“That was kind of the point,” you chuckled before walking over to him and sitting on his lap. He placed one hand around your waist and another on your upper thigh.

“I love you,” he muttered before kissing you gently. Hearing him say those words were a rush that only he could provide. A slight buzzing sound is what broke you two apart, and you looked at the table to see Sam’s phone that he apparently forgot. Remembering his secret phone call, you picked it up to see a text from an unknown number.

“I wonder who he’s been calling,” you said before going to his recent calls. Redialing the unknown number, you placed the phone between yours and Dean’s ear just as the person on the other line picked up.

“Hey, Sam,” Ruby said, causing your heart to plummet to your stomach. This is who Sam’s been secretly calling? He’s keeping way too many secrets. “Sam?... You there...?” Quickly hanging up, you tossed the phone back on the table.

“I can’t believe him,” Dean sighed right before the door opened. Sam raised his eyebrows at you and Dean just as you got off Dean’s lap.

“We weren’t doing anything.”

“I don’t want to know,” he interrupted you with a hand up. “Lenny Bristol was definitely another siren vic.”

“You get in to see him?” Dean asked as you walked to the sink to get another cup of coffee.

“Yep. He bought home a stripper named Belle. A couple of hours later he offed his mother. Belle, of course, went MIA.”

“Wait, he killed his mom?” you asked.

“The woman he was closest too,” Sam shrugged. His phone started ringing and Dean picked it up with a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, you, uh, forgot your cell phone,” he said before standing up and tossing his brother the phone. Dean walked over to you before you handed him a cup of coffee which he took.

“Hey, Bobby… Ahhh, no. And, uh, it doesn't seem like she's slowing down any. You got anything?... Hold on a sec, I'll put you on speaker,” he said before doing just that.

“It says you need ‘a bronze dagger, covered in the blood of a sailor, under the spell of the song’.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked.

“You got me. We're dealing with 3000 years of the telephone game here.”

“Best guess?”

“Well, the siren's spell ain't got nothing to do with any song. It's most likely some kind of toxin or venom. Something she gets in the vic's blood.”

“Which makes them go all Manchurian Candidate. Uh, what do you think, she infects the men during sex?” Sam asks.

“Maybe.”

“Supernatural STD,” Dean chuckled.

“Well, however it happens, once it's done the siren's gotta watch her back. She gets a dose of her own medicine, it kills her like a snake getting iced by its own venom.”

“So, we just gotta find a way to juice one of the OJs in jail?” Dean asked.

“Not that easy. None of those guys are under the spell anymore. Haven't got a clue where you're going to get the blood you need.”

“I think I might have an idea,” Sam said with a smile.

“Oh, you gonna visit your girlfriend?” you teased, talking about his little doctor. Sam gave you a glare, but your dad spoke.

“Whatever you do, be careful. These things are tricky bitches. Wrap you up in knots before you know what hit ya.”

“Don’t worry, dad, I’ll watch them,” you said before looking at Dean. “Some more than others.”

“Okay, hanging up now,” he said right before the call was cut.

“Come on,” Sam shook his head and grabbed his phone, Dean grabbed his keys, and you poured your coffee in a to-go cup before you all left the room.

“Dr. Roberts,” Sam smiled once he saw the doctor.

“Agent Stiles. Can't stay away, huh?”

“Actually, uh, we're here on business. About the blood samples. The ones with the high... you know... oxytocin?”

“You still have them?” you asked, making her look at you with a nod. “Good, we need them.”

“What for?”

“Excuse me, Dr. Roberts?” a man in a suit asked as he approached her.

“Yeah?” she turned to face him.

“Excuse me, uh, we're a little busy here, buddy,” Dean said as you three flashed him your badges. The scary thing is, he did too.

“Yeah, so am I, pal.”

“Doc, can you give us a sec, please?” Sam said politely, and thankfully she didn’t argue.

“What's your name?” you asked once she was gone.

“Nick Munroe. What's yours?”

“I'm Special Agent Sam Stiles, they are my partners Dean Murdoch and Y/N Barnes. What office are you from?”

“Omaha, Violent Crimes Unit. My SAC sent me down here to see about the murders. You?”

“D.C. Our Assistant Director assigned us,” you answered.

“Oh, which AD?”

“Mike Kaiser.” It was like a quick game of question and answer. You had an answer for everything he asked which made him suspicious.

“What are your badge numbers?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean scoffed.

“I'm just following protocol.”

“Look, sir, just call our AD. He’ll sort things out,” you said as you handed him the card that had one of your dad’s numbers on it. He was your go-to for everything if you ever got in trouble. Nick grabbed the card before stepping away to give him a call. When he was away, you looked at the brothers in confusion. “They don’t normally come out here for things like this.”

“I know,” Dean whispered.

“So why send him, and where are his partners? Does this seem fishy to you?” you asked.

“No, but it clearly does to you so be on the lookout,” Dean declared just as Nick came back.

“I'm sorry, guys,” he handed you back the card.

“Just don't let it happen again.”

“Where are you at with this?”

“Where are you at with this?” Dean repeated the question.

“Well, I was just about to run the, uh, perps' bloodwork—”

“I already checked, dead end,” Sam interrupted.

“But get this. I feel like I found something that, uh, connects all the murderers. They were all banging strippers.... from the same club”

“You don’t say!” you said sarcastically which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“What do you say we, uh, go down there and check it out?”

“Well, here's the thing, Nick. See, we're kind of lone wolves—”

“You know what,” Sam cut off his brother, “that sounds like an excellent idea. Just... just give me a second with my partners and we'll, uh... one sec.”

“Dude, you two gotta stay with him,” Sam said once the three of you were out of earshot.

“What?” you scoffed.

“Keep him out of the way.”

“Why us?”

“'Cause I gotta get the blood samples.”

“You just want time to spend with your doctor,” you scoffed which earned you a bitch face.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with him?” Dean asked.

“Just take him to the strip club... keep an eye out for the siren. Come on, Dean, just... just focus on the naked girls. You'll forget he's even there!”

“He’ll be focusing on me, thank you very much.”

“I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for her,” Dean said as he pointed to you. Sam gave him a quick smile before leaving you two.

“Alright, we're taking my ride, no complaining about the tunes,” Dean said, leading you and Nick to the car.

“No way. You drive an Impala?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking at Dean.

“It's a '67, right? It's a 327 four barrel?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dean smiled, but you were too weirded out by this. Something wasn’t right with him. Lately, all you’ve been feeling was that emotion. Was Amara doing something to you?

“It's a thing of beauty,” he said as he approached the car. Going to the back like always, Nick stopped you by opening the passenger side door.

“I’ll sit in the back.”

“You sure?” you asked in a surprised tone.

“It would be my pleasure,” he smiled. Shrugging, you got into the front and he shut the door before entering the back.

“How the hell did you talk the Bureau into letting you drive your own wheels?” he asked excitedly, admiring the interior.

“A lot of hard work,” Dean replied before taking off.

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[atreyu-posts]

TFP CHALLENGE DAY 9

Have any cool Cybertronian headcanons? Of course you do! Share them here! It can be about a character, Cybertron itself, Cybertronian biology, etc.! Whatever floats your boat!

Well, the majority of my head cannons involve either mechpreg (yup, there’s that) and the gladiatorial arenas and the laws and rules that surround that. And some Cybertronian sicknesses and drugs. I don’t know, those all are pretty fun to write. Oh and their biology, that’s cool too!

To begin with, mechpreg, one of the tags I’ll look at most often on AO3, and star player in at least one of my fanfictions. Personally, I’ve always thought that depending on the situation, two (or more, you’re so inclined) could copulate.

Firstly, I have always had the thought that mecha would have to be Conjunx Endura (or Amica Endura) to be able to copulate. I don’t know why really, I think I like the idea better of certified best friend™ fragging the other mecha and making them carry. I just think that’s hilarious!

Secondly, Cybertronians are a genderless race that adopts pronouns to fit their personality/frame. Just with that, there is so much that could be covered biologically wise.

Also, just to carry on the first topic, I do like to think that asexual reproduction is a completely doable situation. I like to think of the babes created that way are hatchlings, while those created the *cough* normal way are sparklings.

So, with the Gladiatorial combat scene, I actually like to think of the angst that could be created for only the writing side of things. For example, gonna be using my OC Nightbalde for this, she’s an ex-gladiator. I like to think that gladiators did not have a choice in whether of not to go in the arena as a possible death wish. I also like to think that those who are made gladiators were originally uneducated slaves.

It’s easier to take over someone if they are stupid, or oblivious to the situation, right? That’s my thought.

It’s also my thought that if a mecha graduated from some sort of institution somewhere on Cybertron (or one of its territories) you were already considered a higher caste than that of a gladiatorial slave/miner. It’s kind of rough way to think of things but slaves (in my universes) can be used in any form or fashion.

Now, for the actual arenas and the combat that took place, hell, I don’t know if it’s cannon, but, betting fees. Like, if mecha throws a fight intentionally, the owner would have to reimburse those who had placed bets. (It’s not like it would matter that much, they make good money just being in a higher caste. All they’d do next is sell that mecha and get a new one. Or keep that one and get another and have the two fight to the death. Who ever lived would, well, that one would take the place of the other. But that bit depends on the owner.)

Okay, though when I was talking about sicknesses, I like to make up little diseases that kill the party slowly. Sometimes, the party doesn’t notice, not even a chunk of medical staff, except for those who’ve dealt with it. That tends to make something a little bit more troubling. *evil smiles*

I’m only going to name maybe two that I’ve made recently (though I might get really lazy because it’s late and do only one. Don’t be disappointed.) which is a Spark Flutter. It sounds normal right? Kind of sounds like a good thing, a thing you’d find while reading that happy, fluffy stuff. Nope. Wrong. Think of it like a heart attack, where instead of a clogged artery, the party’s spark gives a painful pulse and causes the entire frame to go stiff. Now, if enough come in one shot, it will take the spark’s energy, the plasma, and fry all the circuitry throughout. The processor being the last to be completely damaged. This making them very much aware that they are dying, and feel everything. A very painful, drawn out death. And it’s all caused by A) not merging with Conjunx/Amica in a long time. And or B) that mecha is old and the spark wants to be free to join the Well to start over anew.

And… haha… no I shouldn’t be laughing. Drugs. Well, Syk is already bad on its own, I’ve made a few more! (Yay me, I’m Cybertronian drug dealer! (I should delete that, but I probs won’t.))

Smashpipe (AKA Smash) is one idea I had. Where it looks kind of like Red Energon, the same slag that made Starscream, my trash son, go freaking fast. This stuff though, is an aphrodisiac. But not all aphrodisiacs should be made or consumed. This stuff makes the frame basically numb BUTT the valve and spike. It primarily tells the processor to redirect the flow of Energon to only (ONLY) those organs.

So yeah, it feels good. Okay. Be ready to fucking die after that third overload. Say hello to Primus! (I don’t get why I enjoy writing this stuff but whatever. It’s too late for me…) Since Smash redirects ALL the Energon in the frame to go right there, in that transfluid, it will have a lot more Energon than normal. Majority of those that take it do not survive.

Seriously I could go on and on about all this stuff. It’s fun! I just sometimes need a little push to think more about it, that’s all. Bye and thanks if you made it this far!

[3one3]

The Sequel - 883

Intruder

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“You’re getting crumbs all over me.”

“Ask me if I care.”

“Do you care?”

“No. Did you like the stew?”

“I told you I did. And I ate the whole bowl. Twice.”

“Just checking.”

Mwah, André narrated in his head as he kissed Christina’s. She was curled up on him and eating from a plate of charcuterie in his lap, awaiting the kickoff of APOEL vs. BVB on TV. As a special favor for him, she “slaved” over a hot stove to make a paprika-laden salmon and potato stew that she thought was sort of like Hungarian goulash fish. It also vaguely reminded her of the fabada that Juan loved, since that too was a reddish-orange broth with stuff floating in it that she didn’t particularly like. Lukas enjoyed it, obviously, because it stained everything it touched and was more or less a soup. Lukas loved soup. He and Dad dined on salmon and potato stew while Mom showered and answered emails. Her work schedule dictated a late lunch, so she wasn’t hungry at dinnertime even if the menu had been more to her liking. She was looking forward to the dried meats, cold cuts, cheese, and bread anyway. Her morning grocery shopping was influenced by the hunger from which she suffered at the time. All sorts of cravings landed in her basket. There were chocolate covered pretzels in the kitchen for the second half.

“How many ridiculously healthy fish stews do I have to make for you to get fit enough to play football instead of watch it on TV?” Christina inquired, almost disdainfully, while she took in the line-up and formation graphic on the screen. She wasn’t a fan of Peter Bosz’s decision-making, and seldom understood it. Her question wasn’t about disparaging her partner’s slow progress back to the team, but her desperation to see him bring them some useful quality.

“How many times do I get to laugh at you later when you complain about getting acid reflux from eating in this position?”

“None. If you love me you’ll just get me an antacid and rub my head.”

I like her so much lately, André thought, smiling again before kissing to the right of her topknot once more. I like her when she’s relaxed and fake-bossy and cute and making me special meals and wanting to be together for everything. She even stayed in our bathroom this morning and trimmed her toenails outside the door to the toilet while I was in there so that she could tell me all about how she did 15 pull-ups and felt so strong with the weights. Which, by the way, he continued remarking to himself while his girl hummed the Champions League song and chewed salami, I’m pretty sure is down to her having a more regular routine- sleeping in the same place, having her meals at more or less the same time, having the choice to make whatever she wants instead of hotel food, relaxing regul-

“Mario looks less fat this week. Is the black kit that slimming or is he getting leaner?”

“I don’t know. If he lost any weight, I know where to find it. You put on some padding this week,” he joked, poking at her side.

“I know. I lost a handful of pounds when I was sick.”

“Here we go.”

“We should put Real and Spurs on the computer or iPad or something, yeah?”

“You want to get up and get it?”

“No.”

“You want to get up so I can get it?”

“No.”

“Then I guess not.”

Dortmund was in trouble in their group. Real Madrid and Tottenham were each on 6 points going into matchday three, and the Bees were on none. APOEL was in the same boat, after heavy defeats to the other two. Dortmund’s best hope to get to the knockout stages of the competition was beating APOEL and hoping that Real Madrid would defeat the London club, as Tottenham still had to travel to the Westfalenstadion and would be an easier target for the needed second win than Real Madrid at the Bernabéu. Christina thought her team’s new manager tactically inept. To her it was as if he watched footage of opponents to prepare for the game and then chose to do the exact opposite of what she would do, and what she thought was the obvious right plan. She also thought him incapable of adjusting or organizing the team from the touchline, or his seat in the dugout, where he seemed to spend all his time. On top of that, he couldn’t change a game. His substitutions seldom made a difference. The team lacked balance and organization, always, and there was never any leadership on the pitch.

André’s irritation and dismay was triggered by far fewer issues. He just wished the team had more fight in it, and more responsibility. He saw things spiral out of control, or turn into 11 guys each doing their own thing based on their own ideas, and no one taking ownership of his role. There were a lot of new pieces put together, a lot of in and out due to injury, and a regular lack of experienced personnel, as well as lack of consistency from everyone. The Bees were getting away with in the Bundesliga for the most part. In fact, they were still atop the table. But they suffered an embarrassing defeat at home at the weekend that exposed the same problems plain to everyone watching the Champions League.

His teammates were especially bad against APOEL. They were sluggish and unmotivated. A Bürki mistake led to a goal, which ignited serious fire under the home side and seriously demoralized the visitors. Most of the match was a mess, tactically speaking and also in terms of execution. Personality-wise, it was a disaster. It was painful to watch. The other team had to sub off their main striker and goalkeeper due to injuries in the first 40 minutes- two of the most key players- and were still looking more capable than the Germans. And Tottenham opened the scoring in Madrid, just to make the situation more fraught. Both BVB and Real managed to get equalizers eventually, but the former’s attempt to secure a winner was equal parts chaos and heart attack. They almost conceded a winner at least twice as often as they looked like getting one for themselves. The score line in the other game was not helpful. Christina’s attitude at the whistle was one of resignation and bitterness, but without any surprise. Her husband was legitimately shocked by the terrible performance, and profoundly disappointed.

“Think of it this way: you were never going to get far in the knockout rounds anyway, not this year. Wouldn’t you rather have a chance to win the Europa League than get spanked by Barcelona or Chelsea in the round of 16?” the non-footballer posed for consideration while taking apart her bed. The housekeepers changed the sheets and made it up nicely, which meant Christina had to pull it all apart and rearrange the pillows. André was trying to figure out the gas fireplace under the TV. They hadn’t had occasion to use it yet. He was looking forward to real cold setting in so that they could light the real wood-burning fireplaces in the foyer and living room. In fact, he was looking forward to the winter holidays, when he’d have an excuse to have those two going as well as the tiny gas one in the kitchen that was visible on the other side of the wall in the dining room too. Zoe put a glass-enclosed gas fireplace in every new wall she added to the house, and then cut a big hole in an existing wall in order to add one to the round room with the Jacuzzi.

“I guess. But we need to get a hold on things before we get momentum in the wrong direction.”

“Yeah, for real. Especially now that Heynckes is back at Bayern and they’ve maybe possibly stopped their delicious descent into mediocrity. I think you’d be perfectly happy without European football in exchange for a Bundesliga title.”

“Correct.”

“Oh, that looks nice,” the rider smiled when she realized he got the low flames ignited. She didn’t pay any attention until she crawled into bed and got under the covers. “Come snuggle! We can pretend we’re somewhere alpine.” André yawned twice while he watched the fire for a second, and then he stopped in his dressing room to discard his sweatpants before he slid into the predominantly navy linens with his favorite girl and set the fireplace remote down. She picked out the new sheets on a shopping trip with him in the city. They had some thin white stripes spaced far apart, and they were incredibly soft. Christina didn’t like duvet covers because of the bunching issues, but she was willing to overlook that because the linen set felt so nice.

“Tell the truth,” the player requested with a sort of facetiously probing squint as he got settled on his pillow and captured her legs with his. “You just want Chelsea to win the Champions League.”

“Yep.” She nodded from the opposite pillow and poked at his chest while his left palm settled on her right side. “But I also think you all never had a chance.”

“I know.”

“It was fun to watch together and like, be real about the team,” she chuckled. “I’ve been biting my tongue about it for...I don’t know...13 months? I dunno if Reus mentioned it, but I vented some frustration about it at him yesterday and he took it pretty okay and suggested that you are a big boy and could handle it too, so...”

“I can always take it. As long as you aren’t mean just to be mean or argumentative,” André replied with an assuring, easy expression. “I even enjoy your angst sometimes. It’s like having Arsenal Fan TV right in my living room.”

“Heyyyy.”

“You have a cute nose.”

“You have a crooked nose.”

“Should we turn the other way and look at the fire? It doesn’t make much heat, so if you don’t look at it it’s kind of pointless.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The couple shifted into their more standard positions, with him on his back and her under his arm and on his chest. Both rejected turning the TV on, or queuing up some music. They wanted to just chat until ready to sleep. Contrary to the prior conversation, Christina did feel bad endlessly hammering Borussia Dortmund, and she did want to give her blonde boy something better to think about at bedtime, so she pivoted to romance. The two baby pink boxes with the black satin bows sitting on the bench in her closet were on her mind.

“Let’s go out tomorrow night for dinner, no Munchkin. Someplace with tablecloths.” And then after dinner I’ll put my new outfit on and be all sexy and stuff.

“Like Palmgarden tablecloths and tasting menus, or like Pfefferkorn tablecloths and sizzling steak plates?”

“Steak.” But if we have steak, is he going to eat a whole cow and then be too tired and full for my outfit?

“All right. Make sure you ask Espen in the morning if she can stay. Don’t forget and spring it on her at 4. She hates that,” André yawned. He also scooted down the bed some. Just because the squad was in Cypress didn’t mean he had a day off. He trained with the youth team and the other first team guys coming back from injury, and did his individual work too. Feeling sleepy and ready to kill the lights and fire came earlier than expected for him.

“She hates everything lately.”

“I think I’m done with the fire actually.”

“Tired, babe?” The little bundle of warmth trying to suck up whatever additional heat she could get lifted her head for a second and rested her chin on his pectoral muscle. Her quiet, sympathetic tone was affectionate and sweet to his ears, and in a way it actually made him even more sleepy. It was the voice she used when tucking Lukas in at night, or comforting him after some toddler-spec calamity. It was like she was asking if he was really tired because she could do something for him if he said yes, like cuddle in some different, better way, or say something that guaranteed him pleasant dreams. He nodded at her. “Kill the fire, then. And be big spoon? You can use me as leg pillow.”

They got comfortable in the proposed arrangement, in the dark, in their pocket of warmth to insulate them from the cool, fresh air around them from the cracked window, and they did their standard quiet last words for the night. One said “Night night, sweet dreams, love you”, and the other, “Love you, Prinzessin”. About two hours later, Lukas turned up in their bed with his pony, complaining that he couldn’t sleep without Spencer and Lucky. It was a curious claim given that the dogs weren’t even allowed in his room, let alone his bed.

He seldom took advantage of the increased freedom since switching from the crib to his toddler bed, and when he did, his parents took him back where he belonged and tucked him back in because he wasn’t allowed to do the “can I sleep with you?” thing that so many kids get dependent on. He knew in general that he wasn’t supposed to get up during the night, or wander around. He knew he’d get in big trouble if he messed with the baby gate blocking access to the stairs, or tried to get in any of the closed doors. Only his bathroom door stayed open at night. The door to the master bedroom was always closed, but he could open it. The others had childproofing mechanisms to keep him out. Mom and Dad didn’t want him coming in their room because they didn’t want to get rid of all the safety hazards in there, or put things away every night. But they didn’t want him to panic about being alone either, so they didn’t lock him out. They just told him it had better be a serious emergency if he was coming in, and he seemed to grasp that pretty well up to that point.

Christina was too comfortable to get up and take him back to bed, and André was too sleepy, so they told him he could stay with them if he forgot about needing the dogs. The little boy was reluctant. He thought it over for a minute. His mom hugged him into agreement. Then he wanted his own spot between the grown ups, and he said “Sorry, Mommy” and gave her a kiss when he sensed her irritation at the whole affair. He ended up sleeping on André’s right bicep, spooning his stuffed animal. Christina slept with her back to the boys, and wasn’t sure if the big one even knew the little one was there. It was a relief to wake up in the morning and find that Lukas hadn’t been crushed or smothered in the night by his father’s migratory cuddle instincts, especially since it was really cold and he usually tried to snuggle close to her for extra warmth.

“You are an adorable sleepy little human,” she grinned at her son while he fought the attempt of sleep to draw him back to his dreams. His eyes could barely stay open, and his hair was a mess, and his cheeks were pink. He still had Dave in his arms, though he’d moved off his dad’s arm and was using his dad’s pillow instead. I’m supposed to be rushing him to the potty now, Mom realized. But can’t we stay here for a little? He’s so sweet, she cooed inside. “Want to wake Daddy up?” Lukas nodded and began to try to get up. His tiny body wasn’t cooperating yet, and he kind of fell over.

“Da-Daddy,” he laughed in the process. Dave was used as leverage to help him get on his hands and knees, and he then crawled onto André’s chest. The player stirred but didn’t open his eyes. “Hi Daddy.”

“Hi Mausi,” he mumbled back.

“We need snuggles,” his wife chimed in. His brain was as slow to get into gear as Lukas’ body was, so it took him a few seconds to comprehend exactly where he was and what was going on. And when he did, it made him feel old. This is one of those moments when you realize your life is unrecognizable, he thought. You wake up with a wife and a toddler in your bed, and your back hurts, and you need 3 more hours of sleep, and it’s 6 in the morning and that’s when the toddler’s day starts, so, you know, it is what it is. This is what I wanted. I imagined this. I fantasized about it, even. And it’s nice, I guess. He’s such a happy kid, André added as he held onto his son and turned over onto his side and took him with him. His eyes were still shuttered against the real world because he wasn’t done with the one in his head. I love them. I love our family. We have everything. But this morning was better in the fantasy. “Munchkin sandwich,” Christina interjected into his reflection. She’d moved closer and was trying to get her feet between his calves and her arm over his side. There were more replica trophies downstairs in the fantasy, and the bed was in London, and I was waking up after a big European night at Stamford Bridge, after a big goal. I’m tired, the Borussia forward yawned.

“Dave sandwich,” Lukas giggled, trying to squeeze his stuffed animal between him and his mom the way his mom was trying to squeeze him into Daddy.

“Let’s all by quiet and go back to sleep,” André suggested.

“Chyea,” his girl snorted. Once the baby is up, the baby is up, he reminded himself. Oh well. I guess I- Wow. Slowly opening one eye gave him a reason to stop the mild internal complaining. She looks good today. What a smile.

“Morning, Prinzessin.”

“Morning, boyfriend.”

“Did you sleep good, Mausi?”

“Uhhuh.” Lukas fought to wiggle onto his back so that he could talk to both parents.

“Well don’t get used to it because you’re not sleeping in here again,” his Mom reminded him, stern but still smiling. André thought their little one should be allowed to sleep over more often if it was going to make her so happy in the morning. He thought she looked better rested than she should have been. He kissed Lukas’ head and smelled his nice kid’s shampoo scent and continued to take in the glow coming from the adjacent pillow. The morning didn’t seem too far off the fantasy anymore.

“Where did he go?” he asked Christina while pulling the comforter up over the little boy between them.

“I dunno. Must have run off. Guess he didn’t want any kisses.”

“I’m here!” Lukas giggled under it.

“I like kisses. I’ll have his.”

“No! Me! Mommy!”

“Do you hear something?” she questioned.

“Nope.”

“Mommy!”

André made exaggerated kissing sounds and leaned over the covered blob to smooch his girl all over the place. Soon tiny arms and legs were punching and kicking up from the blanket. The rider made kissing noises too, and kept asking her partner where else he needed kisses after a sweet one on the lips. An anxious child emerged out of the top of the comforter and got viciously kiss-attacked by both parents, which resulted in so much laughing and giggling that he almost wet his overnight diaper. He had to shout and say he needed to go before Mom and Dad realized what was up. André took him to the bathroom since he was about to wet himself too. Christina rolled over to check her phone. There was a text from 3:18 am.

“When are you coming home again?”