#fic: forty kisses; eternal love

[mismatched-sockss]

You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another “Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: shopgirl

Group: A

Prompts: A difference of opinion. Eternal sleep. Kitten.

Note: This fic is explicit and contains a sex scene.

-

A Difference of Opinion 

They argued all the way back to the castle. Belle hitched up her skirts, stepping over a puddle, pink cheeked with fight as she pleaded her case. Rumplestiltskin remained unmoved and even flippant, even as he offered her a hand to cross the rickety footbridge. He could have carried her across, if needed, but masters didn’t usually carry their maids- nor did they indulge heated arguments that lasted for nearly forty minutes through bramble and briar. 

But he was no ordinary master and Belle no ordinary maid, particularly because she was his wife in everything but law. 

“It doesn’t change the fact that you promised that you wouldn’t kill him,” Belle said, their argument finally circling back to its original topic as she attempted to unlace her stays. Rumplestiltskin moved behind her, gliding nearly silently through their chambers. With nimble fingers he unfastened the stays, helping her out of her dress.

“Merely a difference of opinion, kitten,” he said, a slight trill in his voice, “I did not kill him. The prince continues to live and breathe.” 

Belle rolled her eyes, “You put him in an eternal sleep,” she said, “That’s the same as death.” 

Rumplestiltskin’s hands circled her bare waist, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the curve of her neck. His lips brushed the tender place where shoulder met throat, where her heartbeat quickened beneath his mouth, and Belle sighed. 

“I honored my promise to the letter,” he said. Belle tipped her head back, surrendering to his touch. His mouth moved lower, lavishing feather light kisses across her collarbone, making her breath catch. 

There was something about the fight, the arguing, that made Belle’s blood run hot. She liked the push and pull, the give and take, the verbal sparring match. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t safe. His hands had killed yet his touch was gentle, and that thrilled her. 

They moved together, until the backs of Belle’s knees bumped against the side of the bed. With the help of a little magic, they were on the bed, Belle on her back, Rumple’s trousers suddenly- delightfully- missing. 

“You kept to the letter,” she conceded as his mouth moved between the valley of her breasts,  “But not to the spirit of the promise.” 

She had meant to sound confident, but there was a waver in her voice. Lust flooded like fire through her, betraying her. Rumplestiltskin’s face appeared above hers, grinning wickedly. Oh how she longed to kiss him, but it was the one thing that was forbidden. 

His hand was in between her legs, clever fingers stroking her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body that Belle knew weren’t magic. His sharp eyes followed every movement, every gasp and quiet moan as he slowly circled her clit. 

“I don’t deal in spirits kitten,” he murmured, “You’ll have to go to the tavern for that.” 

Belle’s mouth dropped open, but her laugh turned to a moan as his fingers picked up the pace. She bucked her hips, desperate for friction, needy and wanting, everything a lady shouldn’t be- but she wasn’t a lady anymore was she? Her hands twisted in the bedding beneath her. 

“And besides,” Rumplestiltskin added, “He’s just sleeping.” 

“An eternal sleep!” Belle bit out. “How is that a life?”

He was smirking, enjoying watching her come undone whilst still trying to fight with him. Her chest heaved with every breath, her cheeks pink. Rumplestiltskin’s fingers moved in and out, making her inner walls flutter around him. 

“There’s still a chance for him. True love’s kiss and all that,” he said.

“What?” She was breathless, nearly dizzy. 

“True love’s kiss, breaks any curse, or so they say,” said Rumplestiltskin.

Belle stared up at him, mulling the words over in her mind. She felt as if she suddenly had all the pieces to a puzzle, she just hadn’t put them together yet. Rumplestiltskin thrust, and with a single, swift movement, he was inside her. Every thought was banished from Belle’s mind as he filled her, steady strokes becoming quick thrusts. She matched his pace, pressing back against each of his movements, tilting her hips. 

It felt like becoming one for a moment, the crush of bodies growing messy and frantic as they both edged closer and closer to climax. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in her stomach, until she felt as if she would fall apart. 

They fucked like they fought. He was rough, but not enough to hurt her, firm, but not restrictive. Despite him being atop of her, Belle didn’t feel as if he was controlling her, he wasn’t dominating her, and instead they moved together. With every day that passed, she felt less like a maid with a master and more as if they were equals, a territory that was new and a bit alarming. 

With a gasp and a moan, Belle reached the peak of pleasure. Her body tensed as white hot heat crashed down around her, as Rumplestiltskin moaned above her, orgasming only moments later. 

In the afterglow, they lay side by side, limbs still tangled together. Belle’s hand rested against his chest, staring absently at the contrast of their skin, her pale hand and his green, scaled skin. The fight had gone out of her, but her mind was spinning hazily, coming back again and again to something he’d said. 

“Was that true?” she asked, “About true love’s kiss?”

Beside her, Rumplestiltskin stilled. 

“Could Prince Leo still be saved if his true love kisses him?” Belle continued. 

“Of course, if the prince proved himself worthy of love, he can be awakened yet again,” said Rumplestiltskin.

Belle shot him a reproachful look, “Everyone is worthy of love, Rumple.” 

He was silent yet again, but instead reached across the gap to brush away a stray hair. He dropped his hand, cupping her cheek, and letting his thumb brush against her lips. The air felt thick with something unsaid, and for the millionth time, Belle wondered about the secrets the man beside her held. But soon her eyes grew heavy and sleep overtook her. 

-

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Red

kai parker x reader

summary: for forty years, kai only knew three shades of red. however, he finally finds his fourth and favorite the year he settles into a new life in mystic falls.

tags: christmas / holidays, dysfunctional family, minor character death (kai's mom & siblings), loneliness, crushes, christmas party, cheek kiss, first kiss, soft (& shy) kai by the end

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i'm not sure this fic makes any sense, but it's the only christmas-y thing i conjured up this year. i hope it comes out in writing as well as it did in my head. <3

kai always hated christmas

everything about it, from the bright colors, to the overexcited children, to the dramatic traditions, to the overplayed movies

his family participated in all of it. even when they treated him like an outcast, they still expected him to join in on christmas festivities

there’s even the time his mother forced him and his sister to wear matching sweaters

they were red in color, his favorite, but heavy, and his mom was all too excited over having her twin, teenage children dressed alike as she had them dressed as toddlers

jo wasn’t any happier about it, but wore it and forced a picture for their mom’s sake

immediately after christmas, kai stripped himself of the sweater and tossed it in a bin for next year, in case he’d be forced to wear it again

but there was no sweater next year, nor was there barely a christmas, because five months into the new year, their mom had died

that year, christmas was still full of red, but it wasn’t the same festive, jolly shade that his mother enjoyed

it was, instead, a bright flame of anger, carried all year by their father. wounded by his wife’s passing, he cursed the world for taking her

for eighteen years, red was a color of joy, before it turned to pain. after their mother’s demise, it became a reminder of death

then almost two years to the date of his wife’s death became the that of the same for four children. the middle ones, survived by the two sets of twins, older and younger

the crimson stains on the once white walls were a constant reminder of the treacherous day

the day he had taken it too far; the day he had finally snapped

for eighteen years, red became to exist only in the shade of blood

it had since been cleaned off the doors and windows, but it could never be erased from the mind

in the eternal prison, it remained. a reminder of the crime that got him sent away; a reminder of the family to which he never belonged

it should’ve softened him, over time, to be reminded of such a thing, but it hardened him more, instead

two escaped, the youngest twins, and lived their lives, while he was left forgotten and alone

kai bets may 10th is his father’s modern day christmas, for now it must be the only day he remembers he has an eldest son

all other days, he’s been forgotten, omit the one he was drawn out from his room by his mother

the christmas before he escapes (unbeknownst to him), he wonders what shade of red occupies his father’s mind: his mother’s love, his own rage, or his son’s bloodshed?

kai then wonders if he’ll ever see another shade himself, or if all he’ll ever know are those tainted by his family

the following year contains more excitement than kai’s ever seen in his life

he manages to escape his father’s prison, completes the merge he was denied, and carves out a corner of life for himself in the little town of mystic falls

throughout the summer, he tries to integrate himself into the supernatural cliches around town, but fitting in with potential friends proves to be as difficult as fitting in with his family was

kai’s tempted to give up; to go back to chaos-causing, as he’s seemingly best at doing, but then he meets you

he sees you first on one chilly, autumn night, teasing a bright red lollipop between your teeth and tongue

you listen intently to your friend, caroline, kai recognizes, and only stop sucking to comment when your friend comes to a pause

he watches you, admiring your beauty and the sparkle in your eye, and realizes only too late that he’s staring

you catch his gaze and politely smile, but when caroline follows your line of sight, she suggests you move seats

kai’s interest in you only grows after that night

the second time he sees you, you swirl a red coffee cup in your hands

it’s empty, but you hold onto it until you can find a recycling bin, and in the meantime, you carry on down the street

feeling a pair of eyes on you, you turn, and gasp in surprise at the familiar face watching you

kai interprets your sound as fear, but it isn’t at all

“sorry,” he apologies, “you’re just… really pretty”

the sparkle in your eye returns, and a sudden red blush matches the cup in your hands. “thank you…?”

“kai”

“kai,” you repeat, “y/n.”

he tastes your name in his lips, repeating it as you did his

“see you around, kai,” you smile, tossing your cup and disappearing from sight

soon, christmas is nearing

kai is anxious

his last twenty years have been painted red over and over, his father’s flame of anger dethroned by his own apt for violence

but while he doesn’t remember the apple-red love of his mother all that much, he can’t deny the hole in his heart he has to feel that again

even if it was a lie, the faux tenderness from his mother is something he chases

he feels it from you, a girl he barely knows, yet finds himself desiring

maybe it’s the kindness that seems to radiate from your soul; maybe it’s the twinkle in your eyes, or the redness in your cheeks

whatever it is, kai craves it

the next time he sees you, kai isn’t expecting it

he’s not expecting any of it, to be honest

but there he found himself, knocking on the door of the salvatore house, after being invited to a christmas party

damon was the one to tell him about it, but he slipped up and made kai swear not to tell that he knows, y/n practically begged the vampire to invite the young witch

unsure what made you want his presence, but definitely not missing the chance to see you, kai said yes to the invite

caroline is the one to greet him

she offers a cocktail, which he accepts

nervous, for reasons he doesn’t understand

but then he sees you and fights the urge to down the drink in one gulp

you stand by the fireplace, your own drink in hand, talking to a group of good friends

your lips are painted red with a perfect gloss to match your sweater. it stains the side of your glass, leaving a kiss-shaped mark on the side

kai swallows, stunned by your beauty, and then again, at the realization that he’s here because you wanted him there

as soon as you catch him out of the corner of your eye, you pause your conversation and excuse yourself to see him

your friends dissipate. none of them greet him, still uneasy, but they don’t try to persuade you from going up to him, as if that’s a battle they know they’ve already lost

“you came!” you say, “i was hoping you would”

“i couldn’t deny your invitation, even if most of the people in here hate me.” he glances around. his sisters stand close to the bar; his prison world companions watch him carefully from the kitchen; the last human of mystic falls shoots an angry glare as he leaves the bathroom

“they’ll get over it,” you shrug

“why did you invite me? i mean, thank you, for inviting me, but why?”

“it’s christmas,” you tell him simply, “the perfect season for second chances. now come on, follow me”

kai stays with you all night, getting to know you and meeting your friends. he’s shared jokes, and offered drinks, and eaten cookies. he’s introduced to past-enemies, now friends, and promised he could share that same title, too, if he wants

by the end of the night, a huge smile has found its way on his face

you make it permanent with a red kiss to his cheek, lipstick staining his face right below his cheekbone

it totally catches him off guard, but when he sees it in the mirror, his heart starts to feel funny. something tingles in his stomach at the feeling of your lips on him

when the guests start to go home, they swear that in the coming days, they’ll all see each other again soon

y/n asks kai specifically if he’d want to meet her for coffee sometime, just the two of them, to which he happily agrees

they part on a kiss to the lips, his move, and the red blush takes up residency in her cheeks once again

for the first time in twenty years, red is a happy shade again

but for the first time in forever, he actually feels loved

~~~

the cherry red of promise; of second chances, and what could be

the red of her kindness is the last he ever wants to see

[ficview]

View - Stipulations

By Anonymous

(I like to call them by this hilarious tag connecting all their fics - author has already arranged a ride to church trust me)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771135/chapters/34161176

Kicking this site off with a glance at one of my most reread Starker fics :)

Stipulations is without doubt the second-best piece of fanfiction to grace the Starker fandom. And to those wondering, yes, it is the slash ship between Peter Parker and Tony Stark. Inappropriate and scandalous, but the most intriguing things often are, right?

The plot and character premises themselves are pretty template. Peter Parker, 18, high school senior with a raging crush on Tony Stark, finds himself at a party thrown for incoming MIT undergrads by said crush, along with an opportunity to save Iron Man himself when danger strikes at the party. Thanks to Victor von Doom's Doombots, the two begin to work together and closer until sparks fly.

Pros:

-- Peter's characterization is nearly on-point. I could totally get the sense of the blithering, hardworking and eternally horny teen aiming to aspire higher while staying aware of his economic limitations. His crush on Tony is INTENSE and till the end, I wasn't entirely sure if what he saw was love or his own rose-tinted version of it. Just some teensy parts of his personality were a bit off.

-- MJ and Ned were the best best friends ever. Both felt true to their personalities and acted in a realistic manner. So did Aunt May. Loved their discussion about the relationship at the end.

-- Every stage of Peter's crush evolving into something more serious was the strongest when written in his POV.

Cons:

-- Tony's POV made zero sense looking back which is a general weakness in the Starker fic world. If someone looking handsome and saving his life is attractive, he should have fallen in love with 50% of the Avengers. And there is no way a forty-something feels all those mid teen emotions or at least acts on it like an honorary Mean Girl. Thankfully, the writing was good enough to allow me to gloss over these major faults.

-- Convenient incidents happening at even more convenient times. Victor Von Doom probably did more to unite the couple than murder either one through his well-timed Doombot attacks.

-- Bad overall message. I can appreciate a good age-difference love story but with those sugar daddy-sugar baby vibes and no plausible reason for why one of them is even in this relationship (other than the obvious), the story does come off like a glorified Lolita.

YET, it is an engaging read. The build up to their first sexual encounter is honest to god one of the best *chef's kiss*. Though minimal, I enjoyed the presence of the other Avengers. However, the most memorable pieces were all those little stipulations the two kept making, only to break the last of them into smithereens.

[karmas-chameleon]

A lil writing too short to be posted as a fic (by my standards for my fics, anyway)

I saw a prompt for shipping stuff to write about a pairing growing old together and got sad that I couldn't really do that with Manfred and my S/I

...so I wrote something about it lol

For years, I'd shared a bed with Manfred. For years, we kissed each other goodnight, and I'd remember his face as the last thing I saw before I slept. His eyes, always full of love. His smile, a rare gift reserved for me and few others. And every line and wrinkle etched into his skin - those were the only things that changed, running deeper and longer as time passed us by, while his joy and love shined through eternally.

One night, we kissed, and I saw a slight hesitation to his smile. Hardly noticeable, but enough for me. Over the years, I'd learned to catch even the little things.

“What's wrong?” I asked him.

“It's nothing,” he said, and rolled away from me to reach for his bedside lamp. He didn't make it before I placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Manny, please.”

He turned back, reluctantly. “Just a nagging thought.”

“Tell me.”

“It's nonsense, truly. But I couldn't get it out of my mind.” He sighed, and looked away. “Do you ever…regret this?”

My eyes widened. “What? You don't mean-” my finger waved between the two of us, at the bed, at the manor itself, “...us? Our relationship? Of course not.”

“Not that. Not this, not now. I'm referring to what comes after. The- the temporary nature of it all.” His eyes returned to mine, fixing me with a solemn look. “I won't live forever. When you're in your forties, I'll be in my eighties. And when you're my age, I'll be…”

He trailed off, and I couldn't fill the silence. It was my turn to look away, down at the bed and my hands which worried at each other.

“You must've known such a thing was inevitable from the beginning,” Manfred said softly.

“I…I did. I just…didn't want to think about it. I still don't want to think about it.”

A hand entered my vision, covering my own and forcing them to be still. I glanced up at Manfred, at his face lined with age and filled with care.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“No, it's alright.” I took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. “I’d just rather think about…what comes before. I'll be happy to be with you, no matter how old you are. I wish that could last forever. I know it's not realistic, but…”

“Forever?” Manfred raised a brow. “That's quite a while.”

“Well, maybe not forever forever, but…a really long time, I guess. In my dreams, we'd be living together for years and years. Centuries, maybe. And one day, we'd say goodbye, but only after a long, long time. Maybe whenever the sun dies out, in like, a few billion years or whatever. Then I might be ready.”

I could feel emotion welling up in me. Not quite tears, but a precursor that warned me to abandon my current train of thought. But I couldn't do that alone. My mind was set on that path, away from my dreams and to a reality of death, of loss and years of loneliness.

“Hmm. You think we'd die out with the sun, then?” Manfred mused, a slight smile on his face. “So you must not believe humanity will ever leave the planet in that time - billions of years, was it? Quite the pessimist.”

Despite myself, I let out a laugh, and found my thoughts being gently pulled away from despair. “You're right. I guess if I'm dreaming big, I should imagine us on a spaceship together, huh?”

“You should indeed. I'm somewhat familiar with science fiction stories, my dear. If this imaginary version of me doesn't travel through wormholes and wield a sword made of light, I'll be very offended.”

I smiled back at him. “I'll have to try harder with my daydreaming, I guess.”

“Not so hard that you overlook the present, of course.” Manfred leaned in and gave me a second goodnight kiss. “Goodbye won't be for a long time.”

“I hope so. And even if…even if it's not, I still don't regret any of this. I couldn't, not ever.”

A wide smile spread across his face which deepened some of his wrinkles and washed away all of my worries. I etched that memory into my mind as he turned around and clicked off the lamp, settling down into the bed as I did the same.

“Sweet dreams, my love,” he whispered to me.

“They always are when you're in them, Manny.”

[parchmentedscrolls]

FKEL #3: Shy Kiss

Fandom: My Hero Academia Characters: Bakugo Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Ashido Mina Pairing: Izuku/Katsuki [BakuDeku] Word Count: 1552

“I can’t believe I got assigned with damn Deku of all people,” Katsuki grumbled, attaching his gauntlets to his hero suit.

“It’ll be fine, Bakugo, it’s just patrol!” Kirishima just said, flashing Katsuki a sharp-toothed grin as he put on his ridiculous sleeves.

“You say that like Deku and I don’t see each other all the damn time. It’s like the universe puts him on a silver platter in front of me!”

“You say that like it’s not exactly where you want him,” Ashido snickered.

“Shut up, Raccoon Eyes, you don’t know shit.” Of course, Katsuki knew that was a lie – only Ashido knew that he actually like-liked Deku, and he had since the end of their first year. They were second years now, and his absurd crush on the damn nerd only seemed to have gotten worse.

“Oh, Baku, I know more than shit, I’d say,” Ashido giggled.

“Shut your mouth before I do it for you.”

Ashido snickered, but she left him alone. Katsuki shook his head, and then headed to the grounds where the bus was waiting. Of course barely anyone’s here yet. Just Glasses, Ponytail, Half’n’Half, and Deku. Big whoop.

Katsuki let out an irritated grunt. “Can’t those idiots make it somewhere on time?”

“Kacchan, don’t call our classmates idiots.”

“Exactly! Bakugo-kun, please show respect to your fellow peers!”

“They ain’t my fellow anything. Most of ’em are just a bunch of dumbasses,” Katsuki retorted.

“Bakugo, as a hero, you should be watching your language better, considering you’ll be exposed to the media frequently,” Aizawa cut in, walking over with Eri in his arms. “Your flashy Quirk ensures that you’ll be in the spotlight often, and your impression upon the public will depend on your attitude towards them.”

Of course, now that Eri was here, Katsuki knew he had to switch to a G rating.

Which meant he couldn’t flip off Half’n’Half for saying, “Of course, that’s something I learned the hard way, Bakugo. You would do well to learn from my own errors rather than being as typical of an idi -- ”

Deku had covered Todoroki’s mouth before he could say anything more. Tch.

“You’re not jelly, are you, Baku?” Ashido, who’d only just reached, elbowed Katsuki in the side.

“F – Shove off,” Katsuki growled, tearing his eyes away from Deku and Todoroki, who were way too close for Katsuki’s comfort. Hell, Deku was whispering something in Todoroki’s fucking ear. “Where are the rest of the morons?”

Ashido just shrugged. Real fuckin’ helpful.

It took what felt like hours, but finally, everyone had reached the meeting grounds.

“Deku, let’s go,” Katsuki said, grabbing Deku’s arm to drag him away the moment Aizawa had allowed them to disperse.

“Wh—Kacchan, wait a sec—” Deku had managed to say, before Katsuki realized Deku had tripped over his own shoelaces.

“Why the ever-loving f—why do you have shoelaces on your hero costume, Deku?” What kind of idiot move was that? Shoelaces on a hero costume were impractical—they’d end up being a nuisance, getting tripped over or caught in something, maybe even set on fire, which would be an instant cause of danger to a hero and anyone he tried to save.

“Um,” Deku said helpfully, “I don’t know.”

“Fu—freaking superb, nerd. You should take it up with the support department before it screws you over.”

“I should,” Deku agreed.

Katsuki huffed, but let it drop. “We’re gonna be patrolling the southernmost areas of Musutafu, close to Shizuoka.”

“Alright,” Deku nodded, activating One For All, then bounded across the buildings, even stopping to smile and wave ta civilians. He’ll make a damn good hero, Katsuki thought absently, launching himself into the air with a few explosions.

Thankfully, the rest of the patrol was a fairly quiet affair. They managed to hold up a purse snatcher and turn them in, and they stopped a passerby from using her fire-based Quirk to burn up a newspaper, but other than that, the streets were calm.

The two of them were only a short way off from U.A. when Katsuki felt Deku grab his hand. “Whaddya want, nerd?”

Deku didn’t meet his eyes. “Can we . . . deviate from the patrol path for a bit?”

Sensing that something was wrong—of course, for Deku of all people to suggest that they directly disobey Aizawa’s patrol order and miss a chance of anything less than an exemplary grade in heroics practices meant that something was wrong—Katsuki complied.

Deku let go of Katsuki’s hand and sprung away, leaping from building to building, and Katsuki couldn’t help but marvel at how Deku looked almost ethereal in the moonlight, bathed in the soft green glow of One For All as he smiled at Katsuki and gestured for him to follow.

Almost like a mythical spirit leading Katsuki into what was definitely a trap. Something important’s gonna happen now, isn’t it?

Katsuki pushed down the thought, and let out several light explosions from his palms, propelling him after Deku until they reached the top of a bank building.

Deku kept One For All active, its now-familiar crackle comforting to Katsuki as well, prompting Katsuki to let his own palms crackle a little with a few explosive pops.

“Kacchan,” Deku said quietly, not looking at Katsuki, but at the city spread out before them, “I’ve been thinking . . .”

“Fuck, I better run, then,” Katsuki grinned, casting a sidelong glance at Deku.

“Hmph.” Deku nudged his shoulder against Katsuki’s. “I’ve gotten better with safer plans, Kacchan. But anyway, I’ve been wondering . . . if something happens to me . . . can you take One For All from me?”

Katsuki instantly turned to glare at Deku, who interrupted him before he could say anything. “I’m not planning on getting myself hurt or anything, Kacchan. But . . . just as a safety precaution. There could always be more villains like All For One and Shigaraki out there, you know? I don’t want One For All to die with me if I end up . . .”

“Shut up, shitty nerd.” Katsuki looked Deku in the eye. “You’re not gonna fuckin’ kick the bucket before you pick a successor. All Might gave you that Quirk because he knew that you’d make it to be the best of the best. I ain’t gonna let that shit pass. I won’t take your fucking Quirk after you’ve made it your own, so eat shit.”

Deku sighed, seeming a little more confident, but Katsuki could tell that Deku hadn’t been satisfied with his answer. “Kacchan . . .”

“Look, Deku. You’re sayin’ you’re scared that your Quirk’s gonna die with you, but guess what? No one else knows you’ve got All Might’s Quirk. You ain’t hot shit, but you’re strong. I’ve invested too much of my own goddamn time and effort to help you figure your shit out to let you and One For All die.”

Deku smiled. “Thanks, Kaccha—”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ finished. You’re gonna be the best hero ever, so get your ass on that and stop thinking about dying, ’cause that shit ain’t happening until you’re like, eighty and by fuck I’ll be there to make sure of it.”

Katsuki couldn’t quite interpret the look on Deku’s face when he turned to face him.

But, slowly, shyly, even, Deku’s gloved hands reached closer to Kacchan’s face, and he removed the black mask from Katsuki’s face, gently setting it down next to him.

“Deku . . . ?”

Deku made no movement to explain what he was doing. Instead, he just shuffled closer to Katsuki and gently held Katsuki’s face in his hands. “Thank you, Kacchan,” he breathed, his thumbs gently gliding over Katsuki’s cheekbones.

Had it been anyone else, their hands would have been blown up by now. But no, this was Deku, the same Deku who’d always been familiar to Katsuki, the same Deku who knew exactly what Katsuki was.

So Katsuki let him.

And Katsuki continued to let him, as Deku’s face drew closer, even as he could feel Deku’s breath on his face. “Kacchan . . . may I?”

Katsuki couldn’t find the words to respond without snapping, so instead, he just closed his eyes and let Deku’s lips meet his own.

The kiss was innocent, nothing further than a touch of Deku’s lips on Katsuki’s own, yet somehow . . .

Somehow, it was perfect.

He found himself not minding in the slightest when Deku pulled away, his face bright red with embarrassment—and Katsuki was sure his was the same.

“Heh, fuckin’ nerd. You look like a tomato.” God, I love you, Katsuki thought. Maybe things could go smoothly from now on.

That, of course, never happened—the next day’s edition of Hero News Headlines had already capitalized on this little tidbit, and Two of UA’s Most Promising Future Heroes Found Locking Lips?! had made the front page.

Katsuki groaned as he tossed the newspaper aside. Normally, HNH had good shit to read about, but for whatever reason, the only thing headlining today was his fucking kiss with Deku.

Ashido was gonna lose her shit.

Good thing I’m never gonna come out of this room, then, Katsuki decided, knowing his face was blowing up in a fucking blush.

Forty Kisses; Eternal Love Masterlist

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[xanasaurusrex]

Light - B.M.

Pairing: Beverly Marsh x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1918 words

Warnings: Love confession, mutual pining, swimming, swearing, Richie Tozier (it’s a warning within itself), kissing, tooth-rotting fluff I stg, Losers Club are aged up to 17, super crappy ending, not proofread, I think that’s it! Please let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: The other Losers know for a fact that Bev returns Y/N’s feelings, even though she’s blind to them herself. But after a set up one day, maybe she’ll see the light.

Notes: My first ever It (2017) fic! Also my first fic on Tumblr! Thank you to anyone who read this, because it’s taking a lot of courage to write this, let alone post it…. Yeah, Bev and Richie are my favorite characters in the movies, and, given my url, I figured my first fic should be a Bev fic! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

******

“She likes you back, Y/N,”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Stop fighting it, we all see it!”

Y/N looked at Richie with a roll of her eyes, turning back forward to avoid crashing into anyone or anything with her bike. “Can you stop with that? I don’t want you giving me false hope when I know she doesn’t like me back,”

Richie was the one to roll his eyes this time.

Everyone in the Losers Club knew that Y/N had had a crush on Bev for as long as they could all remember. Since the first day she saw Bev in the pharmacy after they found Ben outside the sewers and had gone in to find the supplies to fix him up.

Bev had been the one to save the day. She had distracted the man at the counter while they took the things they needed, and had come back afterwards to make sure that Ben was okay. Of course, Y/N had realized that it was not the time to be admiring Bev, seeing as Ben had just had a pretty rough run-in with Bowers, and Eddie was freaking out enough as it was.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to fall completely in love with the red-headed Derry resident. She lived in the apartment above hers, and whenever Bev’s dad fell asleep, Bev would climb down the fire escape and climb into Y/N’s window.

Y/N would sit with her and listen to what she said, or would just sit there, and the girls would hug.

On those nights when Bev either couldn’t go down to Y/N’s apartment, or didn’t need to, Y/N would lay down, and stare up at the ceiling, knowing that Bev’s room was directly above her own. She would wonder what Bev was doing, if she was reading the secret admirer note that Ben had given her, or if she was thinking of Y/N just as much as she was thinking of Bev.

It was torture.

It took a little longer for the other members of the Losers Club to realize that Y/N was falling in love with Bev. After that, they all began encouraging her to confess to Bev, because even though at the time they hadn’t seen the light that ignited in Bev’s eyes the second they landed on Y/N, they wanted their friends to be happy, and who else to be happy with but each other?

That was all when they were twelve, nearly five years ago. In that time, they had all seen that Bev loved Y/N the same way Y/N loved Bev. It was hard to watch the two beat around the bush with each other; subtle flirting that neither one noticed (though everyone else did), and even harder to see them think that the other was in love with other people, though everyone else thought it was painfully obvious to everyone else that it was each other they were in love with.

Now, as Y/N and Richie biked home together, Richie tried his best to convince Y/N for the thousandth time that Bev liked her back, no, loved her back.

“I’m sorry Rich, I want to believe you, I really do,” Y/N said for the thousandth time. “But you’ve gotta be blind to not see that Bev and Bill are in love with each other,”

 Richie quickly realized that he didn’t have enough energy to argue with her today, even though he still wanted to, instead opting for a safer topic: the test that Mr. Herrd gave them today, that Richie was fairly sure he had failed.

***

“They’re both fuckin idiots,”

Everyone nodded in agreement at Richie’s statement as the entire Losers Club watched Y/N and Bev play around and splash each other in the lake in the quarry, both of them giggling like little girls, their cheeks bright pink, and not from the sun.

“Bev!” Y/N squealed as Bev splashed her with a particularly large amount of water. After taking a second to regain herself, she retaliated by splashing an even larger amount of water at Bev.

“It’s like they’re both wearing signs saying, ‘I’m in love with the person standing in front of me, but since I’m both a pussy and an idiot, I haven’t said anything yet,”

Stan rolled his eyes at Richie’s language, but agreed nonetheless. “I wish they would just admit it to each other already. To be honest, it’s getting tiring. Should we just… lock them in a room together and not let them leave until they confess?”

“That’s an idea,” Bill smiled.

“Maybe we should say we’re meeting at the Quarry but then none of us show up,” Eddie suggested. “Chances are they’re gonna stay and hang out, and maybe if we’re lucky they’ll say something?”

Richie scoffed. “Knowing them, fat chance. I think if this plan fails, we should go with Stan’s idea,”

The others all agreed, and decided when the best date would be to set this up, and then set the date for their backup plan, and decided they would do it at Bill’s house, since his is the biggest and they would be able to hang around and check in on them regularly without having to hear them kick and scream.

“You guys coming back?” Y/N broke the boys out of their trance after her and Bev realized that they had been splashing each other for nearly fifteen minutes, when they should have been splashing the boys. “We’re getting bored!”

The boys all gave each other a sly look before immediately running back towards the water, splashing Bev and Y/N immediately, all of them laughing as they got splashed back.

***

“Are they coming?”

Bev and Y/N had been at the Quarry for nearly half an hour, both of them laying against the rocks, sunbathing, in just their bikinis. It took everything in both of them not to stare at the other and admire everything about them.

Y/N glanced at the watch that she had taken off her wrist, anticipating that they’d be swimming, and saw that it was now forty five minutes after noon, the time all the Losers had agreed to be at the Quarry.

Y/N sighed. “I don’t think so. Maybe they all forgot?”

Bev laughed. “You think Stan forgot? He’s probably at Richie’s with the others trying to get Richie out of bed. How much d’you wanna bet he stayed up all night on his Gameboy again, and now he’s sleeping the day away?”

She said the last part in a mock-dreamy way, a tone of voice that had Y/N’s heart soaring. She had always loved the sound of Bev’s voice, and there were certain times when it would just go straight to tug on Y/N’s heartstrings. It was never a particular time, just… Bev.

Everything about Bev was magical to Y/N. Somehow, all it took was one small smile, one of Bev’s smiles, and all of a sudden, Y/N was a completely different person.

Normally, she didn’t really like physical contact. It wasn’t anything in particular that had caused it, she just never was a really cuddly person. She could enjoy a short hug, or a quick high five, but anything longer than about three seconds made her uncomfortable

She wasn’t that way with Bev. Y/N would hug her for eternity, and would never want to stop. The two often held hands, and told everyone else that it was purely platonic, though Y/N secretly wished that it would be something more.

Y/N knew that Bev was still talking, but she couldn’t focus on anything more than the way that Bev’s lips were moving, as they moved quickly and perfectly to form the words that were on Bev’s brain.

The conscious, realistic part of Y/N’s brain told her that she should be focusing on what her friend was actually saying. That in just a few seconds, Bev was going to do the thing that they always did in movies where she waved her hand in front of Y/N’s face and asked if she had heard anything she said.

Sure enough, she did.

“Y/N/N, are you even listening to me?” Bev asked with a small chuckle.

The sound alone sent more heat to Y/N’s cheeks.

“S-sorry,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head, almost as if that would clear her head of the thoughts she shouldn’t be having about her best friend. “Just uh… feeling a little out of it today, that’s all,”

Bev nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Today just… feels weird.”

Y/N nodded in agreement.

The two stayed silent for a few more minutes, before Y/N sat up again. “So, since the boys aren’t coming, we probably shouldn’t wait for them to start swimming, right?”

Bev nodded in agreement, before jumping up and running towards the water, yelling, “Last one in the water is a dancing clown!” behind her, before immediately splashing into the water, getting to a deep enough area, and diving in.

Y/N cursed herself, and then immediately launched herself into the water after Bev, inadvertently splashing her with water as she came out of the water herself at the perfect time.

“Got you!”

***

Y/N shook the water droplets out of her hair, refraining from watching as Bev dried out her own hair, slipping the loose dress that she had brought with her over the bikini that she had worn.

It was now five forty five, and Y/N was going to be expected home for dinner soon. After realizing this, she had reluctantly told Bev that she needed to head home.

Since they lived in the same apartment complex, Bev said she’d go with her.

The sunlight from the sunset bounced off the lake and onto the two girls standing on the beach next to the lake in the Quarry.

Y/N couldn’t help herself this time. She looked up to Bev, and found that she was staring at her the same way, admiring how the golden light danced across her skin, from the top of her coppery red curls to the very bottom of her feet.

Before she could even process what she was doing, Y/N quickly closed the space between her and Bev, pressing her lips against Bev’s.

It only took Bev two seconds to kiss back, relieved that Y/N had been the one to make the first move.

After a few seconds, they realized that they needed air, so the two reluctantly pulled apart, resting their foreheads together.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Y/N whispered breathlessly.

“It was love at first sight, wasn’t it?” Bev asked. “I saw you with the boys and I knew that it was always going to be you. It’s always been you, Y/N,”

“It’s always been you, Bev,”

The two pulled apart, Bev’s arms still wrapped around Y/N’s neck, Y/N’s hands placed lovingly on Bev’s waist. As she looked into Bev’s eyes, she saw a glint in her eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

The light made Bev’s eyes even brighter than they already were, and the longer Y/N looked at her, the more she fell in love.

“I love you, Bev,” she confessed quietly, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulder at the confession. “I always have.

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[danniburgh]

Past Grievances & Turning Points (a RushBit mini-series) part 1

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: You just moved with Javier, but you can't live your life wearing his clothes, so the two of you start a road trip to your house in Albuquerque in which you take the time to tell him everything he still needed to know about you.

Word count: +4k

Chapter warnings: mentions of violence

A/N: This is canon RushBit after the main story; i had such a hard time getting into this for some reason, but finally here we are, im so excited for this side of the story, really <3

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

gif: @fuckyeahjavierpena

“Javier,” you whispered in his ear again, he shifted slightly and let out a sigh when you ran your hand through his hair “Javi, baby,” you called, he hummed in response and you smiled “breakfast’s ready.”

Javier let out another unintelligible hum and your smile widened, you left a kiss on his cheek and left him there to wake up if he had gotten or not the message; you walked out of the room, made sure to let the door ajar so at least some of the smell of the food you and Chucho had made together woke him up fully and made your way back to the kitchen.

“Still asleep?” Chucho asked when he saw you walk into the kitchen, he was already sitting and eating, Pepe sitting next to him whining for a bite, you nodded and sat next to him.

“He has a lot to make up for.” you teased, Chucho grunted a smile while you poured maple syrup on your pancakes.

“At least he doesn’t get those nightmares anymore, Florecita,” he said, cutting a piece of his sausage and dropping it to the floor for Pepe to eat “ya, ten, perro necio.” (cut it, here, stubborn dog)

“Lucky him.” you muttered with a piece of pancake inside your mouth.

“Is that another of my shirts?” you heard from one side as you cut another piece of pancake, you lifted your head to look at Javier, still rubbing sleep off his eyes as he walked inside the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you replied, Chucho asked for the syrup in a mutter that you had learned to identify in the two weeks you’d been living with them, “why?” you asked, handing the bottle to him.

Javier sat next to you with his plate in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, you looked at Pepe, that sat between you, looking at Javier.

“Just asking.” he said, shrugging as he blew slightly to his coffee.

“I need clothes.” you commented, stretching over your plate to reach for a napkin, Chucho called Pepe to give him another piece of sausage.

“We can go buy some later.” Javier replied with another shrug, you frowned with a slight smile on your face.

“Why? I have my stuff,” you told him, Javier looked at his dad pet Pepe and rolled his eyes, not having really listened to what you said “Javi, I need to go back to Albuquerque.”

“What?” he almost choked on the sip of coffee he was drinking, his brow furrowed. You raised your eyebrows “why? what happened?” he asked.

You looked at Chucho with your mouth slightly agape and a flabbergasted smile on it, the old man looked at you, shrugged and kept on eating.

“My things, Javier,” you enunciated, “I gotta pick up my stuff if I’m gonna live here, I can’t live dressed in your clothes.” Javier relaxed visibly.

“You look good in my clothes,” he leaned back on the chair with a small smirk on his mouth, you threw him your balled napkin and he chuckled, “fine then, when do you wanna leave?”

“First thing tomorrow.” you replied, sipping from your own cup of coffee.

“A’right, we leave tomorrow.” Javier leaned forward and picked up his fork.

“Wait, you're coming with me?” you asked him, Javier didn’t look at you, he cut a piece of sausage. Pepe huffed at the smell.

“Who’s gonna help you pack?”

--

You yawned again as you carried your small bag on your shoulder; you shivered slightly when you walked out of the house to put the bag inside the truck because of your dampened hair making contact with the chilly morning air.

You looked up at the early morning dark sky and closed your eyes as you breathed in the sweet smell of the night dew resting on the little patches of grass around the house; there was something about the few late nights and early mornings you had spent with Javier there, something you hadn’t given yourself the time to put into words or expressing to him. Something that made you feel like you belonged there, like that was your space in the world, in that ranch with the man you loved, his dad, a big dog and the mooing of the cows that could be heard once in a while. You fit there.

You heard Javier’s heavy steps as he walked out of the house and you turned around to look at him as he closed the door.

“Could you make more noise, honey?” you teased with a low voice, Javier rolled his eyes at you and you looked at the boots he was wearing, you shook your head and smiled at him as he walked towards you.

“All ready?” he asked, resting his hands on your waist, gently tugging you against him, you smiled and nodded, “good,” Javier leaned to leave a soft kiss on your lips; your breath hitched at the deepness of that soft kiss, when he broke the contact to look at you, you let out a heavy sigh that made him smile. “I’ll drive.” he whispered, and you nodded again in response.

Javier slid his hands away from you and you bit your lip once he turned to walk around the truck and get inside; you did the same, buckled your seatbelt and shifted on the seat to look at him as he turned on the ignition; you scoffed as he backed the truck slowly through the driveway, wondering if he would be able to endure the thirteen hour drive.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with half a smile, reaching for the seatbelt on his left side, you shook your head and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You look good today.” you muttered, leaning forward to turn on the radio, Javier let out a chuckle and gripped the steering wheel. A song you didn’t know but was sung in spanish started on the radio and you folded your arms on your chest.

“We’re using the two-eighty-five?” he asked as he turned on the main street, you hummed in response “and then where, we go through El Paso?” you turned to look at him.

“El Paso? no way, that’s extra forty-five minutes,” you huffed “we keep on the two-eighty-five basically until it ends,” Javier groaned “then we turn on the route sixty-six and we’re basically there, the house is on the outskirts.”

“You’re helping me drive, right?” he teased, you laughed.

“Of course, you big baby.” you replied with a smile on your face, Javier scoffed and kept driving with one hand, dropping the other softly on your thigh.

“I was thinking,” he let out as he turned again on the main highway to leave Laredo, you hummed in response as you unfolded your arms, lowered the voice of the radio and took his hand with yours, admiring the little wrinkles of his knuckles, “if we’re gonna live together, we should build our house.”

“What?!” you almost shrieked, Javier let out a chuckle.

“Well, you didn’t think we were gonna live with my dad forever, did you?” he glanced at you.

“Well…” he gripped your hand tightly and you reciprocated the grip, the thought made you nervous; it was another step, that, although it was very obvious, it also seemed enormous in comparison to what it had been happening since you arrived at Laredo “I guess you’re right.”

“You sure?” Javier asked, having turned again to start driving through the highway, he looked at you for a few seconds before looking back at the road.

You wanted to nod, you wanted to say yes and unbuckle your seatbelt and shift on the bench seat and kiss his cheek until your lips were numb; but at the same time the thought of a physical representation of your permanent stay there frightened you. Not too long ago Javier had told you he wasn’t sure about feeling resentment in the future. He had told you he didn’t know if some day he would wake up and decide he hated you.

Javier looked at you again and tightened the already tight grip on your hand; he was the man you were leaving everything for; your body and your heart and your instinct were telling you to leap and jump onto whatever he wanted to do with you, onto whichever plan he had already made in his head, into the brick castle he was building on a cloud.

But your mind, that one was betraying the very sentiment that had driven you to Laredo in the first place; it didn’t know. It wasn’t sure.

“I mean…” you muttered, Javier said nothing, waiting, expecting, “yeah.” you let out, your eyes glued to the windshield and to the early morning sky, still dark, purple with the reflection of the sun slowly arriving.

“Amor, you don’t sound very convinced.” Javier chuckled out almost nervously, glancing at you once again. He wanted to stop the truck, he wanted to pull over and turn off the ignition and turn fully to you and ask you what was going on; he wanted to study your face and hold you close to him until you mouthed and voiced what was going on inside that head of yours. He hated not knowing what you were thinking.

“I think I’m just nervous,” you said, lifting the entanglement that was your fingers around his and kissing his knuckles softly. You didn’t want to overthink it; you had made a decision, you had decided to stay with him for as long as he had you. And, if he was planning on building a house and building a life, it felt like he was thinking about something permanent. “have you thought where?”

Javier let out a short sigh and decided to not ask about your thoughts anymore; he knew you would say you were fine because it was your default response. So he decided to go in the direction you were leading.

“Right there in the ranch,” he muttered; you smiled at him, Javier looked at you briefly and recognized that smile as one of disbelief, “I’m serious, there's a piece of field on the opposite side of the paddocks, we can build there.” he said, shrugging.

“Chucho’s gonna let us do that?” you asked him, Javier slid off his hand of your grip to scratch his jaw and nodded.

“He’s the one who offered the land.” he replied, you covered your mouth with both hands and frowned; your throat closed at the thought of him having that very same conversation with his father and Chucho just offering his own property for you and him.

“You talked to him about it?” you asked him, your voice slightly muffled by your own hands, Javier huffed and nodded with a smirk on his face.

“Why you’re not buying what I say?” his smile widened, you shifted on the seat as closer as the seatbelt let you and reached for his hand.

“It just doesn’t sound familiar to me.” you muttered with a tight lipped smile, playing with his fingers.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, you let out a sigh and turned to look at him; Javier eyed you and the road back and forth for a few seconds.

“Well, I haven’t received that kind of affection from my parents, y’know?” you let out, Javier nodded, he gripped your hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing your skin with his dry, soft lips, tickling it with his mustache, “Idunno, feels foreign even when I’m seeing it happen before my eyes.” you explained, Javier kissed the back of your hand and let his and yours rest on his thigh.

“Pop can be a hard man sometimes,” he said, his voice deep with some emotion you could barely see in his eyes “but he loves very openly.”

“Like you.” you muttered out, Javier smiled and shook his head a couple of times.

“Maybe,” he replied, “I haven’t asked yet.” he teased.

You wrinkled your nose at his response and he chuckled. You leaned to raise the radio volume again; a grupero song that you recognized immediately was barely starting on the station, making you groan and change it.

“What?” Javier asked while you pressed the forward button to fish for another station.

“That fucking song,” you muttered, “it’s about fucking Felix Gallardo.” you said.

“He has a song?” Javier questioned, you turned to him and narrowed your eyes.

“He has several, that one is the newest,” you mumbled, settling for a pop station that was playing some new song by Mariah Carey, Javier scowled at it and you leaned back on the seat “I don’t know why they’re playing it in the fucking radio.”

“Maybe stations don’t know.” he shrugged, you scoffed.

“I can tell them, it’s shockingly obvious.” Javier chuckled at your reply and you tightened the grip on his hand as hard as you could.

“Hey!” he complained, sliding his hand away and stretching his fingers “sorry.”

“Yeah.” you let out, crossing your arms on your chest and setting your eyes on the view outside, Javier groaned lowly.

“Amor,” he called out, you shook your head, “I would know why it makes you so angry if you told me, y’know?” he tried to reason, you looked at him and then looked back at the road; the sun was rising in the morning sky and the, yellow, orange and scarlet tones of the sun telling the night sky a temporary goodbye were reflecting on the puffy clouds above the fields.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, feeling his hand searching for yours. You unfolded your arms once again and took his hand, knowing there was one last thing about you he needed to know and that was long overdue, a talk you had promised since the first time you spent a night together, since the first time he had held you inside his arms when you told him half trues and blatant lies. Knowing there was just that one thing to get over with so your chest didn’t feel as constricted as it felt when you talked about it. “you really have to know.”

“I’d love to hear it,” he muttered softly, brushing your knuckles with his thumb “and we have time.” he whispered, trying to lighten the mood inside the truck, you huffed and let out a heavy, audibly sigh.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you mumbled, biting your lip and looking at him, the soft, recently born sunshine that was taking over the sky slowly reflected on his skin and made his deep, brown eyes glimmer; Javier looked back at you and raised his eyebrows, expecting, ready to listen. “alright, I think I told you I was a desk agent, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, when was that?” he asked, you let out a chuckle.

“Uhm, since I was out of the academy until almost the end of ninety-one,” you replied, “when they sent me down to Juárez,” you tried to recount the time, Javier groaned and you laughed silently, “yeah, around five years.”

“Really?” Javier let out, you nodded “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed “I was in the New Mexico office, mainly focused on intel and trying to put my masters to good use,” Javier hummed and played with your hand “wasn’t so bad, had the chance to go on some raids,” you muttered, “we were just looking for low life dealers, whoever controlled which town, y’know, the usual.”

“And when you told me they sent you to México as a punishment,” he started, you looked at him, “was that the truth?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “that was true, I tried to cut a deal with some idiot distributor for intel.” Javier huffed.

“That doesn’t end well.” he let out, ripping a low chuckle out of you.

“It really doesn’t, the shithead got caught, he said my name in the interrogation room and by the next week I was crossing the border with a suitcase and I think a cardboard box with files,” you laughed, Javier grinned, “I barely knew any actual spanish.” he frowned.

“Really?” he asked, you nodded, Javier tutted his lips “well, you learned it good.” he teased.

“I had to,” you said with a shrug “see, by this point the mexican government had finally figured out Felix Gallardo was still running his business from jail,” you explained, Javier hummed in response, sliding once more his hand away from yours and patting his chest to reach for his sunglasses that hung from his shirt, “and there was this whole deal with the plazas and no one really knew who managed what, so basically they sent me to study the area’s main supplier,” Javier shook his sunglasses to open them and put them on, the sun was starting to reflect on the windshield, “if I wanted to do my job right I had to learn the language.”

“How long did it take you?” Javier asked, you shifted on the bench seat to tuck your leg under the other.

“Around a year with intensive help from…” you stopped suddenly, Javier turned to you with an eyebrow raised, he looked at you and noticed the way your head tilted, he put his hand on your thigh, “from Marcos,” you muttered, “he taught me.”

Javier only hummed in reply, he didn’t know if he should ask you about him; he groaned to himself and felt your stare, he was sure you also remembered the way he had asked if you were fucking him for intel all those months before that felt like a lifetime; you gave him a chuckle.

“I didn’t fuck him,” you whispered, drawing a chuckle out of him, he shook his head before you fell onto a brief silence that he swore he could cut with a blunt knife “I just got him fired.”

“Baby,” he started, you shook your head, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe,” you muttered, “he still lost his job.”

Javier sighed, his thumb started drawing slow circles on the covered skin of your thigh.

“You talked to him?” he asked, you let out a slow whine.

“Yeah, I tried to apologize,” you said, remembering how you worked yourself up for three days in order to have the courage to dial his number and talk to him; you closed your eyes and took Javier’s hand, “he didn’t even know it had been because of me, so…” you felt your chest constricting, Marcos’s surprised, hurt voice still echoing inside your head, “let’s just say that bridge there is burned.”

Javier tried to reassure you in the only way his body knew how, he gripped your hand and tried to bring you closer to him; you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” his voice came out soft and sweet, you huffed; cherishing the way he was slowly voicing stuff he knew would make you feel better.

“I guess it had to happen,” you replied with a soft shrug, “we spent years together, I learned a lot from him,” Javier hummed appreciatively and you smiled, “we were sent together down to Guadalajara,” you told him, looking out to the Texan road, wondering where exactly were you driving through, “we had to focus on Sinaloa too, we had just learned they had this, weird, sort of partnership with Juárez,” Javier nodded once, “and a fucking rivalship with Tijuana.” you chuckled tiredly.

“What a fucking mess,” Javier teased, you nodded and stretched to place a kiss on his cheek, Javier smiled, “that must’ve been hard, amor.”

Javier tried to imagine himself in your place; he had been there for a couple of years before being sent to Colombia; a small taskforce to look for the missing Agent Camarena, he didn't like it. He felt like the violence and the way the narcos were destroying his parent’s country, and his, in a certain way, felt too personal. He didn’t know if he would’ve come out alive if he had been stationed there instead of Colombia.

“It was,” you replied, stirring on the seat to tuck your other leg under you, “the amount of hours we spent trying to analyze interactions between those three cartels still haunts me,” you tried to joke, Javier scoffed, “if I compare it to how Colombia was…” you reflected, Javier hummed warningly, “in my experience,” you smiled and clarified in the same tone he hummed, Javier chuckled, “for me, México was crazier.”

“I imagine,” he said, you looked at him trying to read his face from up close; in the last two weeks you had spent in his house you had re-met him. It was like he was another man with the same essence; he was relaxed, talked more, his sense of humour came out at all times and you had lost count of the times he had made you laugh until your eyes teared up and your belly hurt. It was like being in a relationship with a man you barely knew but had a deep, meaningful love for. He turned to you and smirked “what?” he asked.

“I love you.” you whispered.

Javier smiled at you and, with his eyes skilfully on the road, leaned down to leave a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you too.” he replied and you left another soft kiss on his mouth, Javier turned to look at the road.

“We should look for something to eat,” you said against the skin of his jaw, he chuckled, “I’m gonna be hungry really soon.”

“We definitely don’t want a hungry flower around here.” he teased, you swatted gently at his arm with a feigned frown.

“I just wanna have energy to keep telling you about México,” you said, Javier nodded, “where was I?”

“Rivalry with Tijuana.” he recalled, you opened your mouth and mouthed a soft ah, nodding.

“So, to make the story short they all wanted to kill each other.” you told him.

“Sounds familiar.” Javier let out growly.

“Right? why can’t they be diplomatic?” you joked, making him chuckle, “Tijuana had thrown a bomb into one of Chapo’s houses and that was a whole ‘nother mess,” Javier blinked heavily at the word bomb and you winced when he gripped your hand tighter, “you get it,” you muttered, he nodded, chewing the inside of his mouth, “so Sinaloa responded with a shooting and killed a lot of people, family of Gallardo,” Javier looked at you in disbelief, “yeah, cousins and one of his aunts.”

Javier said nothing, he kept driving normally but you could feel the way his respiration had become faster, you wondered what he was remembering after what you had said.

“It all escalated very quickly, mind you, this was ninety-two, I spent my birthday in a hotel room in Guadalajara,” you chuckled.

“Why?”

“The cartel knew we were in town, they were trying to track us so we moved hotels for a while.” you replied with a smile on your face while the memory of a small, supermarket store-bought cake with a hard frosting and one single candle painted itself inside your head.

“Who’s we?” Javier asked you, you rolled your eyes.

“Marcos and I,” you told him, Javier groaned in feigned anger and you laughed at him, “he sang me the mexican happy birthday.” you bragged.

“They’re called las mañanitas, Flor.” he chuckled, making you laugh harder at the tone of his voice.

“Yes, that,” Javier shook his head at you, “we had to move to Culiacán, though,” you let out, sitting up straighter at the sight of a gas station, “we had the tip that el Chapo had moved because of all the violence, so we followed him too,” you pointed at it, “can we stop? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah,” Javier changed lanes so he could drive into the gas station and parking next to a pump, you reached for his left hand and took it to look at his watch, you’d been driving for around five hours, the both of you sighed at the same time and he turned off the ignition, “can you get me some sunflower seeds? I’m gonna fill up the tank.” he asked when you reached for your bag that rested on the truck’s floor, you looked at him as he opened the door and got out.

“Sunflower seeds? a’right grandpa.” you teased, opening the door, Javier laughed silently, watching you as you hopped off the truck, closed the door and walked towards the store.

let me know if you wanna be removed :)

pedrito's perma list: @northernpunk​ @pascalesque​ @sleep-tight1​ @cheekygeek05​ @letaliabane​ @supernaturalgirl20​ @alliterative-albatross​ @metalarmsandmanbuns​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @missswriter​ @juletheghoul​ @pedro-pastel​ @agirllovespancakes​ @charlispersonallyhell​ @hopeevenonthisside​ @sherala007​ @magpie-to-the-morning​ @beskarboobs​ @kenoobiwan​ @queridopascal​

dick aneurysm: @starlightmornings​ @ezrasbirdiealso​ @purplepascal042​ @pascalslittlebrat​ @mothandpidgeon​ @wyn-n-tonic​ @mesmorales​ @charnelhouse​

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd​

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1​ @absurdthirst​ @thoughtfulpandawasteland​ @wifeofdindjarin @lank-sextburg @helloannbananalove​ @diogodxlot​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @pedritobalmando​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​ @mamacitapascal​ @dobbyjen​ @callsigncatfish​ @feminist-violinist​ @pascalove​ @eury-dice3​ @gingaahhhh @athalien​ @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics​

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hello! i hope you have a happy holidays!! just a question: do you know any good crossover fics? :0 thanks so much! 🥰

Hi Nonny!! 

Thank you! My holiday season was great <3 Sorry for the delay on the reply, but your ask was a great one because I’ve wanted to do an update list to my “movies and books” list, so I’m updating it to just “crossovers” because I have more to add and that makes me happy!! 

This list ended up getting split across two asks, so for this one, this list is all my bookmarked fics. A part 1.5 with my MFL’s is coming shortly with another ask, and I ask y’all hold off to add your own suggestions to that list instead, please :) Thank you!

CROSSOVERS and FUSIONS (Feb 2021) Pt. 1

See Also:

Fairy Tales and Fantasy

TV, Movies, and Books AU (Fantasy Pt. 2)

Wonderful Life AU

Sherlock / Hannibal Crossovers?

Science Fiction / Fantasy

Faes / Faeries

Disney-esque Fics

Moulin Rouge AU

Crossovers & Fusions Pt.1.5 [MFLs]

It's After That Hurts by jonnyluvssherlock (T, 2,791 w., 1 Ch. || City of Angels AU || Fantasy, Fallen Angel Sherlock, Soldier John, Pining Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Permanently Incomplete Fic) – Sherlock's an angel stuck as a guardian to danger addict John Watson. Everything is fine until he gets too involved. Now he has to make the choice, eternity alone or one life time with a man who may or may not love him.

Caffeine and Adaptive Programming by DemonicSymphony (E, 5,540 w., 1 Ch. || Androids AU / Bond Fusion || Android Sherlock, Coffee Shop AU, Pining John Hinted Bond / Q, Toplock) – Sherlock is a coffee shop android slowly falling for a regular customer. But he's not supposed to be able to feel emotions.

Captain John Watson, Genetics, and Other Crazy Things by cyerus (M, 5,581 w., 1 Ch. || Torchwood Crossover ||  Humour / Crack, Jealous Sherlock, Sexual Magnet John, Captain John, UST / RST, Three Continents Watson) – The explanation for John "Three Continents" Watson? Jack Harkness is his father. Sherlock doesn't know whether he's going to die from jealousy or sexual frustration first.

The Frost Child by twistedthicket1 (M, 9,994 w., 2 Ch. || Frozen-ish AU || Magical Realism, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Powerful John) – In a world where people are born with a Gift of varying levels, simple John Watson is the last person one might look at when thinking of any strong Magick capabilities. Hiding comfortably in the shadow of Sherlock's brilliant deducing abilities, John is content to keep it that way...

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

Equilibrium by augustbird (M, 12,351 w., 1 Ch. || Flowers for Algernon Fusion || Jealous then Worried Sherlock, Sick John) – At Baskerville, John is infected by a virus that turns him into a genius. But when the infection progresses into neurodegeneration, it's a race against time to save himself.

The Nutcracker by Odamaki (T, 13,758 w., 7 Ch. || Nutcracker AU ||  Christmas, Dark Magic, Dolls) – Sherlock is unimpressed with Uncle Rudy's present. A doll? What does he want with a doll?

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w., 4 Ch. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn't. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

Once Upon a Beast Becoming by antietamfalls (T, 24,042 w., 6 Ch. || Beauty and the Beast AU || Magical Realism, Folklore, Celtic Mythology) – An act of pride, a druid’s curse, an enchanted leaf; Sherlock’s torment has lasted an age. Hope arrives in the form of one John Watson, a man uniquely suited to break the spell. But with a single night to win his affections, Sherlock finds his carefully laid plans disrupted by a monstrous killer whose sights are set on the only thing he has left to lose: John.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w., 4 Ch. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara's American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she's also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she's placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

The Boy Who Drank Stars by kinklock (E, 36,157 w., 4 Ch. || Howl’s Moving Castle AU || Witches and Wizards, Slow Burn, Magic, Jealous John, Happy Ending, Bed Sharing) – “I’m looking for a castle,” John informed the scarecrow. “A moving one.”Except that, as it turned out, it was not a moving one at all.

we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 36,420 w., 7 Ch. || A Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Prince Sherlock, Soldier John, Alternating POV, First Kiss, Bittersweet Ending, Homophobia, Dancing) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.

Malediction by MapleleafCameo (M, 36,680 w., 11 Ch. || Ladyhawke AU || Magical Realism, Romance, Curses, Eventual Happy Ending) – Cursed to a half-life, John and Sherlock must fight the forces of evil to be reunited once again.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

The Curious Adventure of the Drs. Watson by ShinySherlock (M, 40,883 w., 14 Ch. || BBC & ACD Fusion || Victorianlock, Time Travel / Magical Realism, Friends to Lovers, Love and Kissing, Romance, Body Swap) – What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places...  “Imposter!” Hands clenching the lapels of John’s coat, Holmes shoved him anew. “Yes!” John agreed, nodding, and then grimacing. “Sort of!”

The Soul Remembers by i_ship_an_armada (E, 43,636 w., 10 Ch. || Oblivion AU || Post-Apocalypse, Movie Fusion, Science Fiction, Action/Adventure, Angst, Dreams, Bittersweet Ending) – John Watson is the lone security repairman stationed on a desolate, nearly-ruined future Earth. His dreams are plagued by a tall, dark-haired man, and when his dreams meet reality, he will be forced to question everything he believes is the truth about his life.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

The Swan Triad Series by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers' attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w., 17 Ch. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We're all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors 'Verse

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court. Part 1 of the Care And Companionship series

[raiseyourvoicetotherain]

Happy Anniversary -- A jatp fic

Here’s my first Julie and the Phantoms fic, inspired by this post. I hope you enjoy.

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“Maybe we need to put ourselves in danger?” Reggie said, breaking the silence that had lingered over the studio for longer than he was comfortable. “Last time, Julie thought we were all going to disappear forever. Maybe if she thinks that again, she can figure out how she did it before.”

Alex broke out of his blank stare to turn his head to Reggie. He stared at the bass player just long enough to give him time to really think about what he’d just said. When Reggie didn’t seem to get it, Alex said, “Seriously? We’ll just go back to the Hollywood Ghost Club and ask Caleb for another stamp, then, shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Reggie responded quietly, sagging back into his chair. He put a hand to his chest and started to rub it a little, remembering the pain of the jolts the stamp had caused. “But maybe there’s some other way to put us in danger.”

Then Alex turned his head to Julie and gave a look like he couldn’t answer another silly question and he needed her to take this one.

“You want to put a ghost in danger?” Julie asked Reggie skeptically.

Reggie went quiet when he saw her point.

Flynn looked between Julie and the seemingly empty chair she was talking to. “What’s going on?” she asked her best friend.

“Nothing helpful,” Luke said with a roll of his eyes.

Knowing Flynn hadn’t heard that, Julie—less sarcastically—answered, “Nothing that’s going to work.”

Julie and Luke had spent the last hour trying to get their hands to touch, but every time their hands got close, every time they thought, maybe this time, their hands passed right through each other and the two would sigh. Julie could see Luke get more frustrated each time.

Ever since the night of The Orpheum show, the band had spent a lot of downtime trying to work out how to repeat whatever magic is was that had made Julie able to touch the boys, and Flynn able to see them.

Flynn hadn’t originally gone back to Julie’s after the show, but when she’d gotten home, she realized that Julie had seemed fine at the show, but there was no way she was going to be okay when she got home to the studio. So Flynn had gone straight down to the garage when she got to Julie’s and the first thing she noticed was how bright the room was. Then she saw Julie wasn’t alone, she could see the boys with her in a group hug.

“Oh, my god,” Flynn almost screamed when she realized what was happening. But no sooner had she spoken the words and Julie turned around, that the boys vanished.

Ever since that night, Julie had been trying to figure out how to make the boys visible when they weren’t playing—so far, she had only managed slight flickers as her hands passed through Luke’s. She hadn’t been able to touch him since.

Julie looked at Luke now, knowing he wanted just as bad as she did to recreate that magic. He wanted to hold her hand, feel her arms around him like he had that night.

He reached out again for her hand, only for his to slip right through it again. He gave a frustrated groan and turned away from her. He didn’t usually get like this—he actually hadn’t felt like this since he’d found out Bobby had stolen his music—but right now he wanted to hit something. He couldn’t remember being more frustrated with himself in all his life and afterlife.

Not sure what else to do, Luke stormed out through the garage door. Julie tried to call his name, but he kept going until he was outside.

Alex came and stood behind Julie, both looking at where the guitarist had walked out. After a quiet moment, Alex sighed. “So, do you wanna . . .?”

Snapping out of her own frustration, Julie said, “Yeah, yeah I got it.”

Julie walked outside to talk to Luke, and Alex was relieved he didn’t have to go. He’d been trying to support Luke through this, but he never seemed to know the right thing to say. Alex hated it, he was usually the one to know what to say to make things better, but he didn’t now. He didn’t understand what Luke was going through. He was still sneaking around with Willie, trying to work out how to free him from Caleb, but at least when Alex was able to steal a moment away with his dream boy, he could hold Willie in his arms.

Outside, Julie closed the garage door behind her. “Hey, you okay?”

Luke, who had begun throwing stones into the garden, frustrated, sighed and turned to look at her. “You know I want to be able to do this right?”

“Of course, so do I,” Julie said softly. “But even if we don’t figure it out, it doesn’t change . . .”

“Change what?” Luke encouraged when she paused.

With a sigh, Julie only answered, “Nothing.”

Then Luke looked frustrated again. “Nothing,” he repeated. “Right.”

“No, Luke, that’s not what I—” but he poofed out before she could finish.

Reggie stuck his head through the garage door. “Where’s he going? We’ve got practice.”

He was yanked back inside by Alex. “We weren’t listening,” Alex lied after sticking his head through where Reggie’s had just been.

“It’s okay,” Julie answered. Still facing away from the boys, she wiped a tear from her face. “I think I know where he’s going.”

 -

Emily was in the kitchen when Luke poofed in. She was drying the clean dishes to be put away and her hair was pulled back.

The first time Luke had seen her after coming back as a ghost, he was shocked by her now completely grey hair, but what hurt him the most was the look in her eyes. They were as sad as when he used to sneak by the house before he died, but they had an added layer of looking lost.

Now she looked . . . not happier, but definitely not as lost. Luke knew it was Julie who had done that. Bringing his mother that song had changed the whole mood in the house. A huge amount of his guilt had been lifted when Julie had come by, and now it seemed some of Emily’s had been, too.

“Good afternoon, my beautiful wife,” Mitch said, walking into the kitchen. Luke saw he was holding something behind his back and when Emily turned around to greet her husband, he pulled out the fresh bunch of dahlias. “Happy anniversary.”

“Oh, darling they’re beautiful,” Emily said, taking the bouquet from him. “Happy anniversary.”

They shared an affectionate kiss and Luke smiled—forty-five years and despite all their tragedy, they were still so in love. Emily put the flowers in a vase with water and Mitch went to change from his golf clothes. Luke didn’t know, but their anniversary had been such a non-event since he’d died. But with new life in the house since Julie’s visit, Mitch felt compelled to acknowledge the day once again.

As he watched his mom continue to put away dishes, Luke looked past her to the window sill, and saw a folded up piece of paper tucked in the window tracks. She took that bit of paper everywhere with her now.

“I could really use some mom advice right now,” Luke said, sitting on the kitchen bench, leaning his back to the wall. “Julie is . . . incredible. She’s insanely talented, and caring. I don’t have to tell you that you’d like her. I love her, Mom, but I don’t know if I should tell her. I can’t touch her, I can’t hold her—or kiss her. I think she feels the same way I do, but is it fair to ask her for something so complicated? Should I encourage her to go for something normal and just let her be happy with Nick instead?” he said the name with spited jealously. “I don’t know if I could stick around for that.”

Emily continued to clean the kitchen and he wished so badly that she would respond and help him decide what to do. But after a moment, he knew he didn’t need her to.

“I know what you’d say,” Luke spoke with a little smile and shake of his head. “You’d ask me if writing and playing music with her was worth it. That if nothing ever changed, could I be happy with things the way they are?” After a quiet moment, he looked over at his mom. “And the answer is yes, it will always be yes. I’d go the rest of eternity never getting to hold her again, as long as I still got to write music and perform with her.”

Emily finished putting the dishes away and grabbed the coffee pot to fill with water.

“If you could only know, I never let you go,” he sang quietly to her. But as he sang, he realized something new—his mother was singing along with him. Luke sat up straighter, thinking he must have imagined what he heard.

He tried again to be sure. “If I could take us back, if I could just do that.” He wasn’t going crazy, she was singing the tune. Not only was she singing it to the right melody—a melody she’d never heard—but she was singing in time to him. When he stopped singing, she stopped and looked up, surprised to catch herself singing at all.

“And write in every empty space, the words I love you in replace,” Luke kept going, hopping off the bench and walking up behind her as she put a now full pot of coffee on to brew.

She continued to sing with him and he looked at the piece of paper in the window sill with the Unsaid Emily lyrics written on it, still in the same spot. He continued to sing with his mom as he reached over to grab the paper.

“And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave.” Her back was still turned when he tapped the paper out of its place and onto the bench.

Emily turned around to the light noise the bit of paper made when it landed. When she walked over to pick it up, Luke let out a breath, causing the paper to drop to the floor. Emily pulled her hand back, shocked. After she bent down to pick it up, she started to turn it in her hands, looking at it in curiosity.

Luke wasn’t really sure how, but he knew that his mother knew he was there. He reached up a hand and brushed his fingertips on her cheek. Emily gasped lightly, and brought her hand to her cheek.

Her eyes lit up with a joy he hadn’t seen before. Her hand went straight through his now, but for a moment, she could feel his touch.

 -

Luke poofed back into the studio to find it was only the boys. “Where’s Julie?” he asked immediately.

“In her room, why?”

Without answering, Luke poofed into Julie’s room. She was on her bed studying and almost jumped off in fright.

“Jeez, Luke,” she cried. “What are you doing? I could have been getting changed!”

He ignored her anger. “Julie, listen, the coolest thing just happened.”

Whatever happened at his parents’ house, he was so excited about it that Julie realized she couldn’t stay mad at him with that cute, eager look on his face. “Okay, what’s so important?”

Then there was a knock on the door and Julie’s dad interrupted them.

“You okay, honey? Thought I heard a scream?” Ray asked, leaning through the doorway.

“Oh, that,” Julie panicked for an answer. “Just homework frustration, you know? High school.”

Luke stood around impatiently, thinking Ray would leave after that, but then he walked into the room completely and sat on the chair across from Julie’s bed. Why did Ray have to choose this of all moments to have a catch up, bonding session?

When Ray finally walked out of the room what felt like an eternity later, Luke sat on Julie’s bed, ignoring the books and school work she had to move before he sat on them.

“Okay, so I went to my mom and dad’s,” Luke began.

Julie smiled sadly at him. “I figured as much.”

“No, listen, while I was there, I—” Before Luke could continue, they were interrupted again by Reggie and Alex poofing in.

“You guys need to come outside, right now,” Reggie said.

Luke waved them off in annoyance. “Not now, guys, okay?”

“No, really, dude,” Alex said more seriously. “There’s someone here, you need to come out to the studio.”

Alex’s tone stopped Luke short of telling him off again. Who could be here that was so important? Julie got up off her bed and walked downstairs. The boys all followed her instead of poofing out.

When they got to the studio, Luke couldn’t believe his eyes.

 -

Emily had caught herself singing all afternoon and wondered how she knew the music. After the folded up paper with her son’s handwriting all over it had fallen to the floor, she thought of Julie—the precious little girl who had brought her son back to her with that piece of paper.

The first time Emily had read the lyrics, she realized that she hadn’t lost her son like she thought she had. She thought she’d lost him long before that devastating night the police lights had lit up her living room. But with Julie’s actions, she now knew that if not for the tragedy, she might one day have had him back, and that meant the world to her.

Now she was singing to the lyrics she had only ever read. Maybe she’d heard the tune somewhere before. Then she got thinking about it. Perhaps Julie had performed the song before she knew what it was—or she might have even performed some of Luke’s other songs. After making herself a fresh coffee, Emily went to sit at the computer and searched for Julie.

It took less than a minute for Emily to find the girl—once Emily found the right keywords, Julie and the Phantoms was the first hit.

“Stand Tall at the Orpheum,” Emily muttered to herself. “Impressive.” Emily didn’t have to be a musician to know that a performance at the Orpheum was a pretty important event.

“Hey, Mitch, honey,” she called to her husband. He came into the room with his own fresh cup of coffee.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Julie played the Orpheum a few weeks ago—I thought you might watch it with me.”

Emily didn’t have to say anything else—they were both thinking the same thing. They were going to support Julie as best they could, to make up for not supporting Luke when they had the chance.

As they both watched the video start, Emily admired Julie’s beautiful speech. The young girl hadn’t mentioned that her mom had passed away, but Emily could tell now, by the way she spoke about her mom on stage, that Julie had suffered that same dreadful loss.

When Julie started performing, Emily and Mitch both began to smile. She was so talented, just like Luke. Definitely not for the first time, Emily wished more than anything that she’d had the opportunity to see Luke perform. If he’d had half the spark and talent that Julie showed, she would have loved to watch him.

Suddenly, Julie wasn’t alone on stage, a drummer and his kit seemed to flash in out of nowhere.

Emily looked at Mitch in surprise. “That’s very fancy,” he noted. But then his eyebrows creased together as he looked closer at the monitor.

Emily looked back herself and saw right away what her husband had. That drummer looked an awful lot like—

Another flash and another performer appeared on stage. “It can’t be,” Emily said.

Mitch and Emily looked at each other, shocked, but also realizing the same thing—if that was Alex and Reggie, did that mean their son would be there too?

Both of them turned back to the monitor, their eyes glued as they watched another figure flash in and out. Emily couldn’t believe it, she must have imagined it. Then the figure flashed in again, still too quick to be sure, but enough that it gave her hope.

Emily’s heart raced and Mitch put an arm around her—his heart had almost stopped.

“I’m going out of my mind!”

There he was.

They watched the rest of the performance, completely speechless. Every second the camera showed Luke on screen, Emily’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t even questioning the how or the why, she was just so happy to see her son again.

At the end of the video, Alex, Reggie and Luke flashed off screen the same way they’d flashed in and Mitch looked at his wife, who was still staring at the screen. She had tears in her eyes and he watched them start to roll down her cheek, then she looked at him.

Without a word, Mitch went to grab his car keys and Emily followed him out to the car. Almost fifty years of loving her and she still didn’t have to say a word for him to know what she needed.

They drove in silence as Mitch tried to remember where he was going. It had been over twenty-five years since he’d taken Luke to band practice, but he was sure he still remembered the way.

When they arrived at the house they hadn’t seen in years, Mitch pulled up to curb out front and turned the car off. Emily didn’t move for a few moments.

“Do you really think he’s here?” Emily asked, staring down where she could just see the roof of the garage. “What if . . .”

Mitch took her hand. “There’s only one way to know.”

They got out of the car and walked down the drive.

The large white garage doors were closed, but Emily knew if the boys were anywhere, it was in there. So Mitch opened the door.

The studio had definitely changed since he’d last seen it. A fresh coat of paint and a grand piano he was sure hadn’t been there the last time he’d dropped Luke off were the most notable changes. Mitch remembered the fights he’d gotten into with Luke every time he had come to pick his son up. That boy never wanted to leave.

When Luke had first started practicing with his band, his parents never thought he would want to drop out of school to pursue music. They thought it would just be a high school hobby, and had always treated it as such. Mitch had thought many times over the years how different things might have been if they’d taken it half as seriously as Luke did.

Alex and Reggie sat up, stiff as boards when they saw who had walked into the garage. They looked at each other, staying completely quiet, as if Emily and Mitch could hear them anyway. Not sure what else to do, they poofed up to Julie’s room.

There was no one in the garage when they walked in, but that didn’t stop Emily from saying through tears, “Luke?”

When nothing happened, Emily thought about going up to the house to look for Julie. Then she heard someone walk in and turned around.

Alex and Reggie stayed just outside when Julie walked in with Luke at her heels — they both froze at the sight of his parents.

Luke took a step and stood directly beside Julie. They instinctively grabbed hands, so caught up in the shock of who was in front of them, they didn’t even notice that they were actually holding hands.

“Mom?” Luke said, tears in his eyes.

Emily gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She was looking at him—at him. “Luke?” she said with a sob.

Luke and Julie looked at her in shock, then down at their interlocked hands, then back to Emily.

Family, Julie realized. That feeling of family was all she was thinking of in that moment. How much her family—including her found one—meant to her, how much she loved them, how much Luke loved his.

Emily walked over towards her son, tears streaming. She still didn’t care how—she just wanted to know it was real. She reached out and touched his arm, and she could feel it. He really was there.

“Mom, I—”

Luke was cut off when his mother wrapped her arms around him, crying with overwhelming emotion. He wrapped his other arm around her, not daring to let go of Julie’s hand in case the magic went away. Julie wiped away tears and Emily pulled her in as well. Mitch walked over and wrapped himself around all of them. Emily’s legs gave out then as all her energy had been taken by her tears. Luke carried her down until they were on their knees.

Then he felt Alex and Reggie join them. Emily looked at them, so happy to see her son’s chosen family here as well.

My beautiful boy, Emily thought. Oh, how I’ve missed you.

Even if the magic never worked again, Luke would never be able to repay Julie for this moment. She was his shining star, his savior—and he would love her forever. In that moment, surrounded by all of his family, Luke had never felt so at peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope this was alright, please let me know, maybe share it if you enjoyed it? I really liked writing it. If you want to see more stuff, drop me some ideas, and definitely check out my pinned post for more stuff by me. You can also bookmark this story on ao3 here. Thanks for reading x

[tootiredmotel]

He’s 42, and he’s loved

I did it, I freaking did it, here’s the Happy Birthday Dean fic.

AO3

After so many years of living in the bunker, Dean was no longer wired to sleep only four hours a night out of necessity. He was also not a morning person, never had been, so most days he allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in.

Today, however, something deep in his belly– anticipation, excitement– pulled him out of unconsciousness against his will. Eyes still closed and mind still jumbled, he couldn't imagine what it could be about, until the steady thumping underneath him was replaced by a hum and a voice so deep it never failed to send a shiver down his spine.

"Good morning."

Green eyes met loving blue, and Dean didn't bother fighting a smile or the urge. Not today. He reached up to run a finger along Cas's jaw, under his lips, down his neck. He kissed him, a hand cupping Cas's face as he used the other to push himself on top of him. He kissed Cas, whose fingers entangled themselves in Dean's hair, longer than he'd ever let it grow before. He kissed Cas, and by now it was both as natural as breathing and as striking as a blue moon. 

Cas's hands traveled from Dean's hair down the nape of his neck and onto his shoulders. "It's early," he mumbled into Dean's lips. Dean shifted to check the clock, 5:32 am, and caught sight of the duffle bags next to their nightstand.

"Big day," he breathed out, propped up on his hands.

Cas donned a half-smile and a twinkle in his eye. "That it is," he said, and flipped them over. Once settled on top, Cas started trailing feather-light kisses along Dean’s jaw and down his neck, stopping to pay special attention to that one spot just under his ear that Cas knew drove him insane. His hands found their way under Dean’s t-shirt, caressing at his hipbones and traveling up his belly, not as solid as it once was. Dean could feel the love, the reverence, in every touch and kiss that Cas, his Cas, laid upon him. It left Dean a total mess. 

Cas slowly found his way back to Dean’s lips, brushing over them with his tongue and seizing the opportunity Dean’s small gasp gave him. He swept over every crevice and corner of Dean’s mouth, once, a fleeting thing, before pulling away. It generated a whimper from the back of Dean’s throat that Cas had the audacity to smirk at.

“I love you,” he said, low and hoarse like a prayer, as he rested his forehead on top of Dean’s, breaths mingling together and eyelashes brushing against each other. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

42. Wow.

“So far?” Dean brought his hands up to grab Cas’s face like he was his lifeboat. “The best.”

Cas kissed him one more time, short and chaste, before dragging them both out of bed to get dressed. They found the others already waiting in the war room with their own bags. Sam and Eileen were still blinking sleep out of their eyes, but Jack had the energy of a golden retriever puppy and was the first out the door.

They stopped for breakfast at the 24-hour diner in town. They were the only lunatics there at 6 in the morning on a Sunday, and Dean made sure to tip that poor waitress well since she had to tolerate their growing rowdiness and excited chatter as they ate and gained their strength. Dean had to admit though, the energy that other townspeople were walking into was fantastic, especially after Cas went and chose some song by The Temptations at the jukebox (yes, there was a goddamn jukebox), prompting Dean to take him dancing around the place as best they could.

By the time they got back to the car, everyone was in great spirits, any and all morning grouchiness long vanished. They joked around and jammed the whole way, two hours passing by in seemingly nothing.

Warm sand and whispering freshwater welcomed Dean like they were created for him. Maybe they were. Maybe Cas made this particular lake. Dean looked ahead at him and Eileen, signing away at each other in between setting up the towels and chairs. So normal, so lively, so overwhelmingly human. The thought of Castiel, a creature of power beyond all mortal comprehension, molding mountains, and valleys, and lakes; it all seemed so foreign to Dean now. He was just Cas, standing there in a t-shirt and swim trunks, feet sinking into the sand, golden-rooted overgrown hair shifting in the wind. And it was all because of him. Cas was there, and Cas was human, for him. It’s something that hit Dean in waves sometimes, knocking the wind out of him and reminding him how absurdly lucky he is.

There was a chilly breeze in the air, the water was freezing, and they had the whole beach to themselves (because, again, lunatics). None of them ever waded too far into the water (pneumonia was still a very real thing), but none of them escaped un-splashed either. 

Dean watched whatever game was being played without him as he came back from the bathroom at one point, Jack sitting on Sam’s shoulders and trying to avoid the water Cas tossed at them. Eileen was sitting on one of their chairs, reapplying sunscreen, and Dean alerted her of his presence with a hand on her shoulder before sitting on the chair next to her.

“So,” she started after a while, handing Dean a water bottle and opening her own. “Forty-two. How does it feel?”

Dean thought about it. He was alive. He was topside. He was at a goddamn beach, watching his kid fall off his brother’s shoulders as his… whatever Cas was, cackled in pure delight. 

“Like a goddamn miracle,” he finally answered, and Eileen nodded. They tapped their bottles together, drank, and it wasn’t long before they were being dragged over to the water by their soaking wet significant others.

Not long before noon, they'd changed into everyday clothes and were walking back to the car, exhausted and starving. Their lunch stop had been picked out days beforehand, a steakhouse in Ellsworth where Dean made sure to mention it was his birthday before paying.

“Why do you need a discount?” Jack asked, once the waiter was out of earshot. “Aren’t our credit cards unlimited?”

“They are,” Dean replied. “We’ve got our Charlie to thank for that.”

Not that they still had her, of course. But Dean liked to thank her anyways.

“I wish I could’ve met her.”

Dean tossed an arm around Jack’s shoulders, ruffling the back of his head in the process. “So do I, kid.”

Dean decided Cas was riding shotgun on the way back to the bunker. Sam, exhausted from having lugged around both Jack and Eileen on his shoulders for a better part of the morning, had no complaints. He fell asleep not long after taking off, Eileen and Jack next to him following suit. 

Dean turned down the pop station playing on the radio and rolled down the windows as he merged into the highway, letting the soft music and the wind rushing past his ears meld into a single background track. That track was sometimes interrupted, enhanced, by Cas humming along to whatever song was playing. Dean didn't recognize a single one, another reminder of how heartwarmingly human Cas was, developing his own taste in music and sharing it with him just as Dean had done for years.

The first time he hummed along, Dean reached over and laid his arm on the back of the seat, running his fingers through the strands at the nape of Cas's neck for a while. The second time, he placed his upturned hand on the seat and didn't have to wait long before Cas's hand snaked its way into it. The third time, Dean couldn't take the whole reaching over thing anymore, and tugged Cas's arm so he'd scoot closer. He planted his hand on Cas's thigh, and Cas rested his own hand on top of it. They stayed like that the whole ride back, only interrupted by Dean bringing Cas's hand up to his lips, or the other way around.

They only stopped for gas about twenty minutes out of Lebanon. They had enough to get home, but Dean hadn't let Baby's tank run empty since he was 25, and damn him, he wasn't going to start at 42.

They had nothing else planned, but Dean had full immunity and control over the day, and as he pulled into the gas station, he decided: movie night. He gave Cas a quick peck before heading inside and picking up some popcorn, M&M's, and licorice. He glanced outside, saw Sam had woken up and was on the phone, and grabbed even more licorice. He couldn't bitch about it today.

Sam hung up as soon as he caught sight of Dean walking back to the car.

"Who was that?" Dean asked.

"Oh. Uhhh… Jody."

"Oh, uh, Jody?"

"Yeah," Sam stammered. "She says happy birthday."

"Huh. Thought maybe she'd call me herself." 

"She's busy, I guess," Sam said, quirking his head like he couldn't help but do when he lied.

"Right."

Dean slumped against the car as he filled the tank, and as Sam climbed back in, Cas climbed out, settling next to him.

"Is Sam lying to me, Cas?" He asked, studying the car wash sign far ahead.

"No, Dean," he heard Cas reply. "That was Jody he was talking to."

"But he is hiding something."

"Dean," Cas beckoned, and Dean turned to meet his eyes. "Trust him," he said, lacing their fingers together. "We wouldn't be devising anything malicious on your birthday." 

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "We?"

Cas simply smiled and said “I love you,” kissing the back of his hand and then returning to the car.

In contrast to how fast two hours went by that morning, those 20 remaining minutes back to the bunker felt eternal. Sam kept texting on his phone, occasionally showing Eileen something on the screen, to which she'd smile and nudge him excitedly. It was driving Dean up the wall the more he watched them through the rearview mirror, and he was about to say something when Cas placed a hand on his knee and squeezed. Patience, his eyes said. Also I love you. Always, constantly, I love you. It calmed Dean down. At least, enough to reach the bunker without peeking at the backseat again.

Dean stepped through the threshold, formulating the movie list for tonight in his head, when-

"SURPRISE!" 

Dean almost startled out of his skin. Streamers, balloons, confetti of every color imaginable, and a war table decked out in snacks awaited him below, along with a sea of faces of some of the best people he knew. Sam stood next to him and patted his back, wearing a proud grin on his stupid face. Dean turned back to find matching smiles on Cas, Eileen, and Jack, so taken aback that he wouldn't have started down the stairs had Jack not pulled him excitedly along.

Claire tackled him in a hug the second he came down the last step. "Now you're old," she said in his ear. 

Dean didn't argue, just mumbled a quiet "yeah, yeah" as he squeezed her, planting a kiss on her hair before she pulled away.

Jody and Donna followed, then the other girls, congratulations and "happy birthday"s left and right. Garth awaited his turn, and Dean made sure to initiate the hug with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. 

Over Garth's shoulder he spotted some faces. They were vaguely familiar, but one in particular was prominent in his memory, one he hadn't seen in far too long and now looked much older than at their last encounter. "Krissy?"

She smiled that cocky, crooked grin of hers. "Happy birthday, dweeb."

"Krissy Chambers, what d'ya know." He engulfed her in a hug, smiling at Aidan and Josephine behind her. "And you're all still together."

"Duh," Krissy scoffed, pulling away. "We're family."

Dean nodded, looking around as Sam, Cas, Eileen, and Jack said hi to everyone. A damn family alright.

And so the evening began. Everyone caught each other up, told some stories. Claire and Kaia were officially together, Krissy and Aidan were very much not. Baby Sam and Castiel were growing up great, and Garth was ecstatic to finally meet his son’s namesake. Donna brought freaking karaoke machine, so in between stuffing their faces with snacks (yes, licorice included, much to Sam’s disgust), everyone would take turns at the mic. Among the highlights: Alex, Patience, and Claire’s Since U Been Gone, Dean, Jody, and Donna’s Bennie and the Jets, Jack and Cas’s Don’t Stop Believing, and of course, a valiant collective effort for Sweet Caroline. Dean spent the night answering the "how does 42 feel" question. Made sure to give a different answer every time. "Like thirty." "Like sixty." "Like hell, and I would know." "Like heaven. Actually no, not that bad." Eileen smiled at him every time, because she knew. Like a miracle.

Dean was almost (almost) tired by the time the pie came around and the incredibly out of tune Happy Birthday chorus began. He was wearing two party hats at that point. Jack placed the pie in front of him, ‘HaPPy B-daY D!’ written in crust on top and Rice Krispy treats framing the plate. Dean sent Jack a knowing smile before reaching over to ruffle his hair in thanks. 

“Make a wish,” Sam said beside him. Dean regarded him for a moment, then Cas at his other side, then Jack and Eileen and Claire and Jody and everyone around the table, all with a soft smile. He blew out the candles.

---

“I would really like to ask you what you wished for, you know?” Cas said later that night, as he sat down next to Dean in their little library nook, everyone else long asleep. “But they say it’s supposedly bad luck to say it out loud. That it won’t come true.”

Dean pressed play on his phone and stood up. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, holding his hand out for Cas to take. Some Harry James piece filled the air as Dean pulled Cas close, studying every shade of blue in his eyes, every wrinkle that surrounded them, the outline of his lips and the shape of his jaw. He turned for a second to look at the party mess everyone promised to help clean up in the morning, then turned back to Cas. He met his lips, soft and deliberately slow, trying to speak volumes without saying a single word. It’s this. It’s you. It’s us. It’s love and family and peace. That’s my wish. That has always been and always will be my wish.

He pulled away and said, “It already came true.”

Cas happily nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean’s neck as they started swaying back and forth. They lost themselves in the music and each other, hands caressing and lips leaving soft kisses wherever they wanted. After who knows how many songs, neither of them could say, Cas mumbled into Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you.”

At long, long last, Dean finally replied.

“I love you too, Cas.”

Cas’s head shot up, and Dean caught only a brief sight of his eyes turning glassy before Cas pressed their lips together again, wanting and caring and so, so incredibly loving. It was as Cas pulled away that it dawned on Dean: he’d never, in his life, felt as happy, as satisfied, as loved as he did on this day.

“Happy birthday, Dean.”

And it was. It definitely was.

[parchmentedscrolls]

FKEL #2: First Date Kiss

Fandom: My Hero Academia Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui Pairing(s): Izuku/Katsuki [BakuDeku] Word Count: 2637

Izuku Midoriya was aware that he was of the emotional sort. He’d always been quick to process and show his emotions, which had, admittedly, made him infamous as a crybaby. But, thanks to that, he knew he was good at understanding what he felt and knew how to get it under control fairly quickly (even though that often involved bursting into tears).

Unlike a certain explosive blond he knew, Izuku noted, sparing a glance at said blond. Kacchan was aiming an explosion at Mineta, who’d just been trying to peek on Asui and Uraraka while they were changing.

As much as Izuku didn’t condone violence as a punishment, he wasn’t really too upset about Mineta being the one to be the target of Kacchan’s wrath, considering his sheer lack of respect for the opposite sex.

Either way, Izuku knew that Kacchan, though still violent and impulsive, was at least trying to get a better hold on himself—and had been since his kidnapping by the League of Villains. And he knew he wasn’t the only one to notice it—even the rest of 1-A had noted that Kacchan was slowly beginning to smoothen out his roughest edges.

It would be a lie for Izuku to say he wasn’t proud of his childhood friend-slash-rival.

“Oi, Deku, the hell are you staring at with that fuckin’ grin on your face for?” Kacchan snapped, pulling Izuku out of his thoughts. At least I wasn’t mumbling, Izuku thought, relieved. God knew Kacchan would never let his pride accept Izuku being proud of him—heck, he’d think Izuku was looking down on him again.

But weren’t they past that by now? Ever since their second Ground Beta fight and his reveal of One for All to Kacchan, hadn’t they gotten better? Kacchan had understood that Izuku had never looked down on him (how he could have even fathomed that was ridiculous; he’d been Izuku’s image of victory his whole life), and that all the anger he’d harboured towards Izuku had been unwarranted.

“Hey, answer me, you damn nerd!” A small explosion crackled in front of Izuku’s face.

“K-K-K-K-Kacchan!” Izuku stuttered finally, internally scolding himself for spacing out right the second Kacchan had spoken to him. “S-sorry, I was just thinking—”

“Yeah? About what?” Kacchan hadn’t asked sarcastically, if the tone of his voice was anything to go by, prompting Izuku to answer before he’d even thought about what he was going to say.

“You.” It was out of his mouth before Izuku could stop it.

The sparks on Kacchan’s hands fizzled out as his expression turned blank and his face reddened.

“Kacchan?”

Kacchan didn’t respond, and instead looked away and sat down in his seat in front of Izuku.

Odd. Not Kacchan-like at all, Izuku thought, pulling out Hero Analysis for the Future #2—the one he’d dedicated entirely to Kacchan (the first one having been about All Might) —and noted down Kacchan’s strange change in behavior, wondering what could possibly have instigated this sudden . . . docile attitude.

Docile, Izuku figured, probably seemed like the last word someone would use to describe Kacchan, right down there with calm and non-confrontational, but when there wasn’t anything bothering the blond, he was just that: docile.

Interesting.

“Deku-kun. Deku-kun! Deku-kun!”

“Whaaa— Uraraka-san?”

“Deku-kun, class has been over for fifteen minutes—we thought you were taking notes for class, but—” Uraraka cut herself off. “Is that whole notebook about Bakugo-kun?”

“Yeah, I’ve been taking notes on Kacchan since he got his Quirk,” Izuku admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“That’s . . . that’s pretty cool,” Uraraka said, blinking in surprise.

Izuku could feel his face heat under the praise but tried his best to keep it under control. “Really? I just . . . I mean, Kacchan’s the cool one, if anything . . .”

Asui nudged Uraraka in the arm. “Speaking of Bakugo-chan, how did you get him to calm down earlier?”

“Huh? I didn’t do anything, really, he’s gotten calmer on his own,” Izuku confessed, “but we settled a lot of . . . past misunderstandings recently, so Kacchan’s had less troubling thoughts on his mind. He was the one who actually asked me what I was thinking about, so I told him that it was him, and he just kinda, well, defused.”

Uraraka and Asui shared a look. “Oh, Deku-kun . . .”

Asui nodded in sympathy. “Midoriya-chan . . .”

“Huh? What is it? I don’t get it!” Izuku protested, completely at a loss. What were the girls seeing that he wasn’t?

“Deku, get your ass over here before I blow it to fucking smithereens!”

Still confused, Izuku apologetically left the two girls, running after Kacchan. “Kacchan, wait!”

For the first time, Kacchan did. “C’mon, nerd, we’re gonna go to that soba place that opened up around the corner.”

“E-eh? In our uniforms?”

“No, not in our uniforms, you damn idiot. We’re going to the dorms to get changed, and then we’re gonna get the fucking soba.”

Oh. That made more sense. Then again, most things Kacchan said (with, of course the exception of “DIE” and other choice threats) did.

It had taken more or less forever for Izuku to get changed, since Kacchan had rejected the comfy tee that Izuku had initially picked out which had the word T-shirt on it in katakana, so now he was wearing a violet sweater over a shirt that Kacchan had lent him, since all Izuku’s casual clothes were “fucking childish,” as he’d so eloquently put it. Then again, Izuku knew that Kacchan’s fashion sense was way better than his could ever be, so it hadn’t taken much convincing.

While he was on the subject of Kacchan’s fashion sense, Izuku glanced over at his childhood friend, who was dressed in a short-sleeved button up and tight jeans.

Hang on, since when did Kacchan of all people wear tight jeans and not loose, baggy ones? They did look good on Kacchan, and Izuku wouldn’t deny it. The jeans were firm around Kacchan’s legs, accentuating the muscle there that still somehow remained lean on his legs. There was barely even a crease in them as he wore them—how on Earth had Kacchan put those on in record time with how tight they looked, especially around his—

“Having fun checking me out, nerd?”

“EHH? No, I wasn’t—that wasn’t what I—Kacchan!” Izuku buried his face in his hands—well, his arms—to try and cover up the blush that was undoubtedly taking over Izuku’s face.

“Pfft—ha ha!” Was Kacchan . . . laughing?

Izuku lowered his arms to look at Kacchan, who was indeed laughing. It wasn’t one of his angry fight-me-you-bastard laughs—no, it was a genuinely happy laugh.

Izuku hadn’t heard that laugh in years, and it tugged at his heartstrings. Izuku looked down at his feet. “Your happy laugh is nice, Kacchan.”

A pause. Then, a word Izuku hadn’t expected to hear out of Kacchan’s mouth: “. . . Thanks.”

A comforting silence fell upon the duo. Subconsciously, Izuku’s hand reached out a little, pinky finger out. Kacchan’s hand responded in kind, his little finger linking around Izuku’s—as though to hold hands without actually needing to do so.

And for once, Izuku realized that he wasn’t running after Kacchan or blindly following him anymore. No, they were walking together, as equals.

By the time the duo sat down at their table, Katsuki’s hand was already missing Deku’s warmth. It was embarrassing as all fuck for him for him to have become so dependent on the stupid nerd, but as he’d been told time and time again by the counselor at UA—her name was Hatori or something—his feelings weren’t meant to be shut down. He needed to learn to accept them; learning to depend on people was a part of the process.

He was secretly thankful to All Might and Aizawa for making him start those counselling sessions. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“So, Kacchan,” Deku said, making direct eye contact with Katsuki, “since when did you like soba?”

Katsuki didn’t quite know how to say that he’d found out about the new restaurant and wanted to take Deku there before that damn Half’n’Half bastard decided to. “I wanted to taste the shit here before Half’n’Half,” Katsuki just said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “And their spicy katsudon is supposed to be pretty good too.”

Katsuki knew he had Deku’s attention the moment he said “katsudon”. Good to know that some things about Deku hadn’t changed at all in the past ten years, despite everything that had happened to drive them apart—no. Despite everything Katsuki had done to drive them apart.

It was your fault, after all, whispered the nagging voice that had been pestering him since All Might’s fight with All For One. Maybe even since the incident with the sludge villain.

“Kacchan, are you alright?” Izuku asked from across the table.

 “Kacchan, are you alright?” Izuku reached a hand out to Katsuki, who’d only just stood up after falling off the log bridge, into the river. “Can you stand?”

No one had asked him if he was alright before. He didn’t know how to answer. Instead, he just stared at Izuku’s hand.

“It would’ve been bad if you hit your head.”

“Kacchan’s fine, he’s strong!” the kids above just scoffed, jeering at Izuku.

Did Izuku think he wasn’t strong? Was that why he asked? Of course Katsuki was fine! Like he couldn’t handle a little water.

Katsuki slapped Izuku’s hand away. “Don’t look down on me, Izuku.”

The other kids laughed.

Izuku didn’t.

 “. . . an? Kacchan!”

Katsuki looked up at Deku, who was looking at him with the same concerned expression Katsuki had despised over the last few years.

He isn’t looking down on you, Katsuki told himself, echoing Hatori’s words. You should talk to him, especially if you can talk to him easier than you can talk to me, he remembered her saying.

“. . . Thinkin’ about the battle with All For One,” Katsuki mumbled under his breath. “And all the shit I did before that. ’Specially to you.”

Deku flinched slightly, but the expression was gone just as soon as it had come. “Kacchan,” he says, looking Katsuki evenly in the eyes, “yeah, you’ve done and said some pretty terrible stuff in the past, but you’re better than that now, and we all know it.” Deku was completely confident in what he was saying. “I do more than anyone else. Think about how far you’ve come since the sludge villain!”

—if you think you’ll have a Quirk in your next life, go take a swan dive off the roof—

“Why’d you save me?” Ordinarily, Katsuki would have hated to use the word ‘save,’ but it was the only way he could put it. The only way it could be put.

Deku’s voice lowered. “I couldn’t just let you die, Kacchan,” he said softly, looking straight at Katsuki with those damn big eyes.

“Deku, I fucking told you to kill yourself that day—”

“Would you say it now?”

Katsuki didn’t hesitate for a second. “No.”

“Then that just proves you’re changing for the better, Kacchan. Yeah, you were a jerk back in middle school, but you’ve come a long way from that.” Deku’s voice was gentle—as it always was—as he said it, carefully laying a hand over Katsuki’s.

For once, Katsuki didn’t pull away from the contact. Normally, he hated all forms of physical contact and affection (something Shitty Hair and Racoon Eyes never seemed to understand), but now, with the gentleness Deku was using, it wasn’t so loathsome.

Deku looked warily at Katsuki, as if to ask, Is this okay for you?

Katsuki just nodded, allowing his own hand to curl around Deku’s.

“Kacchan,” Deku’s voice was almost a whisper as he slowly lifted Katsuki’s hand closer to his face and pressed a soft, quick kiss to Katsuki’s knuckle. His hand twitched in Deku’s hold, but he didn’t pull away.

“Izuku,” Katsuki breathed, not quite sure where the air in his lungs went. Instead, he took their connected hands back towards him, slowly straightening Deku’s fingers, removing them from his other hand. Deku let him, and continued to let him raise Deku’s hand up to Katsuki’s face so that it cupped his cheek.

Deku kept his hand on Katsuki’s cheek, even as a single, silent tear escaped from Katsuki’s eye.

Katsuki wasn’t used to affection. He didn’t like it; didn’t like how suffocated he felt when people decided to touch him casually; how easy it was for them to think they could break him down physically when all he wanted was to be strong and always win; how—

How it reminded him of the way he used to push Deku around in middle school.

This was wrong. He didn’t deserve this.

Katsuki pulled Deku’s hand off his cheek. Deku didn’t protest. He never did. All he did was look at Katsuki with concern—that same fucking face he made that day by the river; when the sludge monster was holding him captive; when he was being pulled backwards into the warp gate to the League of Villains by that scarred fucker.

The face that understood that Katsuki needed saving.

The only face who had ever understood.

It was too much.

Katsuki stood up abruptly, muttered something about needing to use the bathroom, and stiffly walked out, into the restaurant bathroom, locked himself in a stall, and felt himself collapse onto the (closed) toilet seat, gripping his head in his hands as he felt his body shaking.

It wasn’t a panic attack; he hadn’t had one of those in a while, but if he kept feeling this shitty, he wouldn’t be far off from one.

“Kacchan!” Great, now fucking Deku would be here to see it. “Kacchan, open the door!” Or what, Deku? “Or I’ll get it open myself!” The telltale crackle of the electricity of One For All filled the air.

Kacchan threw the door open. “Were you seriously going to use your fucking Quirk to destroy the damn lock?” Katsuki demanded.

“I was going to kick it open,” Deku admitted.

“That’s worse!”

“I was worried about you!”

“I don’t need your fucking wo—” That was a lie. “Sorry,” Katsuki grumbled. He wasn’t just apologizing for this, and Katsuki knew Deku knew it too.

“It’s okay,” was all Deku said. “It’s okay, Kacchan.”

“It isn’t.”

“If I say it’s okay now, it’s okay.”

“When did you start calling the shots, shitty nerd?”

Deku just laughed. “Come on, Kacchan, let’s go eat before the soba goes cold—unless you like your soba cold?”

“Hell no, that’s Half’n’Half’s thing.”

Deku hummed appraisingly. “I knew you paid attention to the others, even when you pretend you don’t.”

“Shut up.”

“And I know you don’t like soba, either.”

“Shut up.”

“So that means . . .”

“Shut up, Deku.”

“. . . that this is a date!”

Katsuki bluescreened. Then, “I SAID TO SHUT UP, SHITTY DEKU!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Deku laughed. “I couldn’t help it!”

The mood lightened from there, and Katsuki was glad for it. When they were about to leave, Deku’s hand was once again on Katsuki’s cheek, where he’d put it an hour earlier. Instinctively, Katsuki nudged into the touch and not away from it, and his lips barely brushed Deku’s palm in what could have been little less than a chaste kiss.

The smile on Deku’s face was worth the embarrassing action. Maybe someday, Katsuki thought as he looked into those glowing viridian eyes, maybe someday it can be a proper kiss. Maybe what we have could be more.

Maybe someday, you can find it in yourself to love me.

Forty Kisses; Eternal Love Masterlist

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.XI

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. This is the last chapter, so I truly hope you all enjoyed this fun AU, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support! 

(Also, a small cameo for @lemonfodrizzleart is in here, so I hope you enjoy!)

ch.X

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan could feel the familiar pressure on his chest when Dipper and Mabel defeated the monster. He did everything he could to keep it at bay until the kids left; they would have stayed, and Bill would have won. Ford might get hurt, so Stan made sure they didn’t know and that they left him.

The second they were gone a powerful wave of pain flared his chest and he sank. Pacifica helped him lie down comfortably against some smooth boulders, unsure if it was safe to move him, and held his hand as he had to endure another heart attack.

Stan’s mind was hazy, but he reminded himself that he was okay with this. He was okay. Dipper and Mabel were gonna in. They got to see each other face to face! Dipper would get to meet Ford, and one day he would get to be with them forever. Heck, Stan even got lucky enough to meet his niece, who he already loved just as much as he loved Dipper. And Ford… he might have been a huge jerk, but he would have liked to see him again. Oh, well. It’s not like Ford would want to see him again.

The old trainer winced and groaned as he could feel his breath being taken away.

Mabel had Gompers go as fast as he could back to Thebes. She, Ford, and Dipper were terrified of what they would come to, but they had to see him again, they had to!

Gompers stopped right where he had picked the young pair of twins up for battle and were distributed to find Stan lying down, he never lied down! Pacifica turned to them, shaking her head and moving aside so they could see how deadly still and pale Stan was.

Ford instantly collapsed onto his knees by his brother’s side. He shook his head, refusing to believe it, and carefully took his hand. “Stanley,” He muttered quietly. “Stanley, it’s me, your brother.”

Mabel was on her knees next to Ford, trembling like a leaf and already crying. “G-G-Grunkle Stan… please…” 

The ruler of the gods scooped his brother up and was distraught when his head fell limp to the side. Ford helped his head lay on his strong arm, tearfully begging and holding his twin close to his fast-beating heart. “Come on, Stanley. P-Please! Wake up! Stanley!” He sobbed and bowed his head, cradling his brother and distraught to find him already cooling down. Ford had never been there for his brother when he needed him to be.

Mabel took Stan’s free, limp hand and kissed it through her tears, then rubbed Ford’s back as he cried freely. Stan appeared much more pale in comparison to the gods that held him close, who shined and glowed like gold. Ford freed an arm to bring her niece closer, and the two held the family member they had so desperately wanted to be reunited with and now would never have a chance to.

Dipper was standing right behind them, shaking with his fists clench. He turned away and sniffed, trying to keep it together, a tiny toxic voice telling him to keep it together and be a man. But the fact that the ruler of the gods was sobbing his heart out behind was enough to help Dipper shed a tear or two, but he couldn’t help but cover his eyes with a hand.

Pacifica hesitated, and then patted his shoulder. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Dipper.” She croaked and glanced back at the broken family. “There’s… some things you just can’t change.”

Scowling and determined with fire in his eyes, Dipper lifted his head and dropped his hand from his eyes. “Yes I can.” And he and Pacifica were gone before Ford or Mabel could realize they were going and they were too busy to notice their disappearances.

~~~~~~~~~~

“WE WERE SO CLOOOOOSE!”

Bill was on a rampage. Now completely alone with no allies and only a sad underworld for his lair, he released his fury by blasting everything in sight with fire. Gideon was well hidden and letting his boss let his anger out, getting fed up of being under the triangle’s thumb and looking for a way out of this; If Pacifica can get her freedom, maybe he can, too.

Bill floated to a window overlooking the underworld, cooling down, but still furious. “We were so close, we tripped at the finish line, WHY?! All cuz that worthless conartist had to teach that twerp a thing or t-...”

The doors crumbled at the punch of the young hero, accompanied by his little tour-guide, Pacifica, who scowled at the demon with a gleam in her eye. “Where’s Stan?” Dipper growled.

Bill smiled at his visitors. “Ah, Pinetree and Llama, underworld’s a great place for a date, isn’t it?”

“Let him go.” Dipper demanded, charging at the demon and grabbing him by his stupid black toga.

Bill rolled his eye and plucked the human’s hands off him. “Get a grip, kid. Here, lemme show you around. C’mon.” And he had a hand on Dipper’s shoulder and walked with him out of Bill’s study, with Pacifica and Gideon curiously following them.

Bill took Dipper to a river of green death, with hundreds of thousands of souls swimming around. Towards the top, was Stan. Peacefully sleeping in his armor and cape, his soul torn and war-worn, but there he was.

“Stan!” Dipper called and reached for him, but the green liquid made his hands burn and age.

“Ah ah, you can look but you can’t touch.” Bill laughed. “You see, Stan’s got a new place here. He’s gonna be in this river, floating for eternity.”

Dipper did some quick thinking, watching Stan float farther away, and an idea came to him and he glared at Bill. “You like making deals. Take me in Stan’s place.”

“Hm.” Bill poked his face as he mockingly gave it some thought. “The great-nephew of my hated rival trapped forever in a river of death.”

“Going once…”

“In exchange for an old man who’ll probably die again next week.”

“Going twice…”

“Okay!” Bill interrupted. “Okay, okay, okay. If you can get him out, he can go, but you have to stay. Good luck, hero.”

Dipper looked back at the river he could easily step into. Stan was farther away now, almost around a riverbend, so the brave young man took in a deep breath and cannon-balled into the River of Death and swam for his uncle’s soul.

“Oh, you know what slipped my mind, you’ll be dead before you can get to him.” Bill called after him. “That’s not a problem, is it?” He cackled.

Dipper knew Stan was right, but if this would give Ford and Mabel a chance to be with him, if only for a short amount of time, so be it. Twins shouldn’t be separated forever.

The instant he jumped in, Dipper began dying rapidly. Not even aging, having a moment’s peace of being in his thirties, forties and fifties. His body seemed to instantly jump to his sixties and then slowly crawl upward. Stan was still so far away, but Dipper kept pushing, thinking of his family crying over Stan’s body. He had to do this. This had to work. Now aged to a hundred-year-old man, frail and at the brink of death, he reached for his uncle’s hand, just as they turned a corner on the river, hidden by a cavern.

Bill grinned at his victory, but his joy was short lived. Bright golden light shined. Bill’s eye was wide with horror and he watched as a true hero walked on the River of Death, carrying his trainer in his arms. “This… This is impossible! You can’t be alive, you’d have to be…”

“A god?” Pacifica and Gideon asked.

Bill roared in fury as he turned red, small and child-like as he kicked and screamed in the air.

Dipper’s skin now glowed golden, like his great-uncle and twin sister. He was sure and determined, clever, and healthy and youthful. And though he was grateful to have his godhood restored, he was still focused on getting his family together.

“Dipper, stop! You can’t do this, you can’t…” And Dipper punched Bill so hard in the face that his eye fell inward into his triangle body.

Bill recovered shortly, popping his eye back into place and chuckling nervously as Dipper walked away. “Okay, I deserved that. Pinetree, can we talk? Your uncle, Sixer, he’s a fun guy! Y’know, m-maybe you can put in a good word with him and we can just blow this whole thing off, huh?” Not seeing any reassurance, Bill went for his last desperate attempt to save his bricks. “Eh, Stan. Stanie, c’mon, talk to your kid.” And he cupped the soul’s cheeks.

At that, Dipper lost his patience and punched him so hard that Bill flew right into the river. Souls instantly latched onto him, and at his annoyance, he was dragged into the depths of death.

“Oh, he’s not gonna be happy when he gets outta there.” Gideon fretted at the edge of the river.

“You mean,” Pacifica gently elbowed her old working buddy and asked slyly, “If he gets out of there.”

Gideon lit up and grinned. “If… If is good.”

“You know,” Dipper said coolly, and the two looked at him. “I think this place is gonna need a new ruler of the underworld. But I think it should be someone who knows just how important life is, so death becomes more comforting.”

Gideon gasped and had an idea, so excited about it he swatted Pacifica’s arm and yelled, “OH! Oh oh oh oh OH! C’mon, c’mon!” And he dragged Pacifica to a special section of the underworld.

Dipper followed behind with Stan still in his arms and Gideon took them to the throne room. Years ago, Gideon watched Bill press a stone on the left side of the door to reveal where he kept a small amount of poison to turn gods mortal. Today, Gideon felt around for a stone on the right side of the door that could be pressed. After a few seconds, he found it, pressed, and a door opened to reveal a cave much like the last, except for oozing purple poison, a bottle of golden elixir awaited them.

“I knew it!” Gideon grabbed the bottle and held it out to Pacifica. “Here! Take it! Be the new god of the underworld!”

“What?!” Pacifica pushed the outstretched bottle back. “No, not me…”

“I think you should.” Dipper reassured. “You helped save my family twice today. You helped those kids. You clearly value life the way you should. I think you’d make a great goddess.”

“And I’ll be there to help you!” Gideon volunteered. “I know a lot about this place, I just… erm, let’s just say I’ve proven to be an awful boss in the past, k’?”

Pacifica played with her hair nervously, still unsure, but the smile from her friends was just enough, and so she snatched the bottle and took a swing before she could change her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper carefully walked back to Thebes with Stan’s soul in his arms. He was reminded of so many times when Stan would pick him up from the dining table full of work and take him to bed. Stan had been his family for so long, that to know they were blood was actually very exciting. On top of which, if Dipper understood the rumors correctly, Stan was once a god, ubt lost his godhood, too. If Dipper can get his back, there must be a way to get Stan’s back. Even if he was a god now, Dipper was determined not to leave Stan’s side until he also earned his godhood. Family sticks together.

Mabel and Ford were still holding onto Stan, just as Dipper left them. Mabel was the first to notice the footsteps, to look up, and to gasp at not only Stan’s soul, but the fact that Dipper glowed like gold, like she and Ford did. She squeezed Ford’s shoulder and he finally took notice, gasping at his nephew.

Mabel scooted back a little bit to give Dipper some space, but Ford refused to let Stan go. He merely loosened his hold so Dipper could gently place the soul down onto the body, and then they waited with Dipper on one knee and Mabel scooting closer again.

It only took a moment. Stan took in a deep breath and let it out far easier than he had in years, and his color returned far brighter than before. Dipper gasped at how he sparkled and shined, and Ford and Mabel grinned to know their hope was proven correct.

Stan blinked once or twice, confused, but beyond amazed to see his entire family surrounding him. He quickly noticed the tears and sat up a bit, concerned, “Whoa, hey, is this an audience or a mosaic?”

“STANLEY!” Ford cried out and threw himself into his brother so hard they both fell into the ground, but neither cared. Stan chuckled nervously and tightly hugged his twin while Ford began to cry again. “St-Stanley! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! I should’ve…”

“Aw, c’mon, Sixer,” Stan rubbed his shaking back. “It’s okay, it all worked out.”

“I almost lost you…”

“Well, you didn’t.” Stan loosened his grasp to better look at his nephew, and Ford turned to grin proudly at him as well. “Thanks to that knucklehead. HEY! Wait a minute! You jumped into the River of Death?! That was stupid, don’t you dare lemme catch you risking your life for mine, kid! I’m old! I go first!”

Dipper laughed and gestured to Stan. “That’s never gonna happen.”

Stan looked down at himself and flexed his arms and hands, his eyes wide. “Whoa hey! Kid, you did it!” He looked back up at Dipper, finally noticing that he was also glowing, and he jumped to his feet and cheered. “YOU DID IT! You’re a true hero! I trained a true hero! We’re gods again!”

Mabel jumped into Dipper’s arms and hugged him. “I’m so proud of you guys! I KNEW you could do it!”

Ford chuckled warmly and helped his twin up to his feet. “Come, let us go home.”

Mabel whistled and Gompers lowered himself so the family of gods could ride the giant goat back to Olympus.

At the mountain top, just inside the newly repaired gates, the gods and goddess awaited to congratulate the newcomers. Fiddleford blew his trumpet loudly with joy; Hazel, the goddess of spring, tossed flowers every which way; Jackie, the goddess of Summer and Romance, winked at Stan, who ran a hand over his gray hair and threw her a sly smile; Pacifica and Gideon were there, too, Pacifica glowing a peaceful light-blue color to go with her white tiara and baby-blue dress with white sash. Dipper couldn’t help but smile at Pacifica; maybe someday she could earn his trust.

The gods entered their new home and Mabel caught something happening to the night sky. She gently elbowed her brother and pointed up to the sky, and their uncles also looked upward. The Faiths had manipulated the cosmos to tell the new story, and they all watched as the stars formed into the shape of a dipper, the exact same shape on Dipper’s forehead. Beside the new constellation, a shooting star graced the dark inky sky.

“Hey, that’s Stan’s boy!” Hephzie, the goddess of autumn and harvest pointed out.

Stan blinked his eyes dry and let Mabel hug him around the neck from behind, patting her hands. Ford put a hand on his left shoulder, and Stan pulled Dipper into a soft noogie. Together, the loving family watched the beautiful sky.

Just remember, in the darkest hour, Within your heart's the power For making you A hero too!

So don't lose hope when you're forlorn! Just keep your eyes upon the skies! Ev'ry night a star is, Right in sight a star is, Burning bright a star is born!

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Ten

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thank you so much for reading and enjoying, my friends! Thank you for your kind support of my endeavors. I hope that this story has managed to bring you some peace, or at the very least function as an interesting distraction from the issues we currently slog through like so much Bakhroma Green dust. Stay safe out there, be well and be kind. Now here we are at the end of our tale! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm so glad that you liked it enough to stick around. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch​ @wrestlingfae​ @renegademustelid​ @zombiexbody​ @sporadic-fics​ @rzrcrst​ @lackofhonor​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @arrowswithwifi​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @absurdthirst​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @88dragon06​ @roxypeanut​ @walkerchick007​ @peggers-n-beggers​ @robbinholland​ @chrisbostonevans​ @cinewhore @sarcasmisakindofmagic​ @phenomenaaa @evidenceofzoe​ @sinnamon-bunn​

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment discusses children/pregnancy/'family-planning'. Stay safe!]

You slipped from the bed, barely managing to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Ezra seemed less man and more octopus when he slept. Wrapping your shirt around you as more of an afterthought than anything else, you crept out of his room and returned to your own. 

Through the tiny window in your bathroom you could see thick snowflakes falling, and you dimly heard the low rumble of the street plows. As you filled your tub, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror above the sink.

And you smiled.

Kevva, you were a mess! Your hair was mussed, your chest and collarbone littered with marks from Ezra's tender ministrations. You ran your fingers over your skin, laughing quietly. It had been so long, you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy sex. Almost forgotten how sticky it made you feel afterwards too, hence your bath.

Your body tingled and ached in the best ways, like you had just gotten done with a satisfying workout. In a way, you supposed you had. 

Once the tub had filled, you carefully sank into it with a sigh of contentment. The warmth of the water felt heavenly, soothing the admittedly-tender skin of your inner thighs. You knew you ought to get started washing up, but first you dipped a little lower in the water and blew a few bubbles. Perfect.

You were midway through scrubbing yourself down when you heard Ezra's voice, the man sounding slightly panicked as he called your name. "I'm in my bathroom!" You replied. 

Footsteps bolted up the hall and the former prospector all but lunged into your room, his hair even more of a mess than usual and his eyes wild. "Oh. Oh. Forgive me for invadin' your boudoir, gentle soul." He apologized after he spotted you through the open bathroom door, averting his eyes. "I may have had a bit of a terror, and when I awoke to find you missing, I...I'm out of sorts, is all." He rambled, his voice still gravelly with sleep. "Did you see that it has finally begun to snow?"

"I did! I'm surprised we can hear the plows all the way up here." You answered cautiously. He was working his jaw again. "I'm sorry I left, I just forgot how grungy I can get when...well uh, you know. During." 

Ezra waved off your apology, seeming to have calmed down. "No need for contrition, gentle soul. It was my mind playing cruel pranks on me. I'll leave you to your bath, and then rest." 

"Hey, wait." You implored as he turned to leave. "Go get showered and then come sleep in here with me instead? My sheets are clean. We probably did a number on yours." Ezra tilted his head, dark eyes studying you thoughtfully. "What?" You asked after a moment, a little disconcerted.

"You are so incredibly beautiful." He murmured simply, making you flush. "I merely wanted to drink it in. You have no equal even in my vast vocabulary, no match in my lexicon. And so I settle on the trite, the mundane, beautiful." He shook his head. "A tragedy, really, but should I resort to something so exotic as pulchritudinous every time I feel amorous, I fear you may want to strike me out of exasperation." 

"Oh no no, that one is for special occasions. Weddings and funerals only." You joked. He laughed, his pensive expression finally easing. "Now go, I'm going to get ready for bed. Meet me back here in ten."

Ezra saluted lazily, still chuckling.

…

"You recall what I mentioned earlier, gentle soul?" He asked softly once the two of you were safely ensconced in the warm cloud of your comforter. "About how this all seems like a dream?" You nodded against his chest, feeling the deep sigh he let out. "I am never the final stop on the proverbial slingback, you see. There is always a brighter horizon, a more affluent lover, another mountain to scale." He explained, sounding resigned.

"Not for me, there isn't." You said, raising your head so you could look at him. "I want to be here with you. As long as I can have you."

"You are hardly the first to offer up such a platitude." Ezra murmured, his nonchalance once again making your heart sink. "So I will be with you, and hold you, and love you until you are weary of me, and then…" he hesitated, "and then I will release you without debate, for you are not mine to cling to. You are your own woman, gentle soul, for all that it wounds me to say it."

"Excuse me?" You propped yourself up on your elbow. His eyes were firmly locked on the ceiling overhead, studiously avoiding your gaze. "Ezra, what the hell?"

His jaw worked and you saw him swallow hard. "I did not mean to cause you grief, gentle soul. I am not particularly skilled at pillow talk."

"Hey, no, look at me. Please?" You requested softly. Ezra blinked up at the ceiling. "Please, Ezra. Don't disappear on me just yet."

"I am not the master of my own emotions currently. I must insist we postpone this discus-"

"Ezra." You huffed, cupping his face with your hands. He struggled to dodge your eyes, his own filling with tears the longer he attempted. "Oh...no, no, don't cry Ezra. Talk to me." 

"Damn it, gentle soul, you have me all in a twist about this!" He cried in exasperation. "It is inevitable, invariable, inescapable, why does it abrade me so harshly this time?"

"How many other people have you written poetry for?" You inquired bluntly.

"Well...I mean, that is-"

"How many other people have you asked to share your living space?"

"Gentle soul, I don't-"

"How many people have you been patient with?"

"No one, damn it!" Ezra roared finally, "you're it! Are you satisfied now, now that you've dragged a dull, tepid answer out of me?! Are you thoroughly entertained by my piteous bawling, gentle soul?" His chest heaved with emotion and he rubbed roughly at his eyes. "I am not patient. Not by nature, not by habit or happenstance. I am not particularly generous, kind or honest, not without promise of recompense." He snapped, "I do not presume to be a good man, gentle soul. I've made this abundantly clear."

"So why would you be upset over me?" You pressed, not dissuaded in the slightest by his bluster, "why would you be good to me if it's so out of character for you?"

"Because you are all of those things, and I crave you more than any reward in this universe. Kevva above, your generous spirit has me reeling, your kind words leave me breathless, your honest love slaughters my deep-seated contempt for such juvenile emotions. Yet I cannot decipher whether I merely play at the better man, or if I have indeed metamorphosed due to you. Until I stumbled across you in the Green, I did not even believe someone like you existed." His eyes softened, going glassy once more. "Most of the time I still don't."

"But I do exist." You insisted. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving."

"Do not promise me such things." Ezra muttered, kissing your knuckles. "My morose poetry will be a poor replacement for the warmth of your touch when you do depart."

"I get the feeling that you like wallowing even more than you like me. You miserable-" You kissed him. "-broody-" Kiss. "-dour man." Bumping your forehead against his own, you continued, "I'm not leaving. The last thing I want to do is justify this mopery you're indulging in. What happened to the guy who dragged me halfway across the Pug for junk food?"

"I love you so much." Ezra whispered, his hands shakily carding through your hair. "I have warded off many a potential partner simply by the virtue of my verbose nature, but you have stayed throughout. While the thought of you leaving terrifies me, the thought of," he paused, grimacing, "the thought of becomin' something...becoming a man like him steals the very breath from my lungs. I shall not tear you from the sky, gentle soul. I will not clip your lovely wings."

You bit your lip. "I know you won't. That's why I'm still here." You assured him softly. "I'm yours for as long as you want me."

"Martyr's malfeasance, you cannot promise me eternity." Ezra protested. "I haven't even asked you yet, not officially, and we must think of the paperwork-"

"Asked me what?"

"Ah." Ezra cleared his throat, his face pinking up in a highly-endearing manner. "Well, that is to say...I had...I may have indulged in a bit of domestic daydreaming. Strictly speculative, you understand." He hemmed and hawed, wringing his hands nervously. "I am...I'm not a young man, gentle soul, I am approaching my mid-forties. My life has not been a particularly kind one, and I...my body is...worn." He stammered, "I-I bear the bold stamp of blue-collar occupation, as it were." 

You raised an eyebrow, confused at his discomfort. "Ezra, if you have something to say..."

"What do you want out of life, gentle soul?" Ezra asked suddenly. 

"Me? Uh..." You sat back on your haunches, propping your chin up with your hand as you thought. "I'd like to move somewhere a little quieter, eventually. More countryside. Somewhere that the flora won't kill me, of course, but you know." You shrugged, tapping at his ribs meditatively. "I liked working as an illustrator, though that may have more to do with the pleasant company than the actual work." You winked and he smiled weakly up at you, his own fingers drumming lightly on your knees. "I want a dog, and a nice house. Small one, with good lighting. Mostly though, I want to wake up next to you in the mornings. I want to draw you more."

You weren't sure if you would ever get used to how his gratitude struck you in your chest. It made his whole expression light up, blond patch bright like his own personal sunspot. For a man who was so brazenly cocksure, Ezra didn't seem to believe he was worth overmuch in anyone's eyes. 

"You have not yet been afforded the opportunity to grow weary of me, it appears," He remarked, "though we have endured each other's company for six stands and counting."

"Over half a year." You could barely believe it yourself. "So, I've told you what I'd like. And what would you ask of life, mister big shot author man?" You teased. 

Ezra's smile faded. "I would ask many things of life, though I have only one thing to ask of you." He rasped. "Accompany me in it." His hands folded over your own on his chest and you could feel him shaking. "I will not request you to stay any longer than you wish to, but I beg of you to...to be with me. For a moment, a stand...h-however long you can endure waking up beside me." He soldiered on admirably through his voice breaking, "I do not offer much, as you are aware. But I would like to believe that I could make you happy, at least for a time."

"Ezra, are you-" you swallowed hard. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"I suppose that would depend on whether you are inclined to believe that I am asking you to...in less blatant terms, engage with myself in somethin' that may eventually, potentially, smack of the matrimonial persuasion." He was watching you closely, fragile hope shining through the serious, furrowed frown on his face. 

"You're serious." You stated weakly. He nodded once, a singular jerk of his head. "You...you're sure?"

"Abysmally certain." Ezra replied gruffly. "And I do not require an answer. Not now, not ever if you do not wish to reply, I merely-" 

Your mouth on his own put a stop to his amendments, and you felt his lips twitch into a smile when you breathed, "yes."

"Well!" He exclaimed gladly, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you. "I must say this--this particular outcome, while exceedingly welcome, was not anticipated!" 

"You've got to be kidding me." You groaned, shoving your hands into his hair to tug his face away from your own. "I'm gonna' do my level best to be patient with you, but fuck's sake Ezra." He grinned puckishly at you, his expression promising mischief. "I'll work on me if you work on you, okay? A little faith in yourself can go a long way, believe me." You lectured him sternly. 

"To think that you would be able to say such a thing to me." He commented dryly, making you snicker. "How the bastards have fallen, and now the gentle rule the earth as docile kings." Large hands combed carefully through your hair and he tilted your head for another kiss. "A dog, hmm?" You nodded wildly, making him chuckle into your mouth when your nose bumped his own. "I'll see what I can do, gentle soul."

…Three Years Later...

"Ezra!" You called, brow furrowing in confusion when there was no reply. "Ezra? Anglio? It's time for lunch!" You wiped your hands off on the flour sack towel that you had wound through your belt loop, trying to straighten your shirt out as an afterthought. "Ezra!" You called again, a little more concerned now as you moved from the kitchen to the screened-in porch, peering out through the jalousie window slats to survey the front yard. 

Turk, your massive Himalayan tomcat, wrapped himself around your ankles with a throaty, inquisitive burble. 

No sign of the dynamic duo. You sighed, petting Turk and resigning yourself to hunting them down after finishing your sixth well-meaning attempt at making bread. Maybe you were being too optimistic, expecting the dough to cooperate in this heat. 

The first loaf actually looked good, though! That had bolstered your confidence, which had in turn dug you into a glutinous hole. Any variation you tried on the original successful recipe resulted in nothing but failure. At least you had an overabundance of aggressively-crispy croutons and bread crumbs now? 

Oh well, sixth time's the charm. So much for my attempt at a subtle pun. 

After placing the tray in the oven, you headed outside to the front steps. Turk sauntered out alongside you, yawning and then sprawling on the steps. "Boys!" You shouted, smiling in relief when you heard a distant reply from the forest. "Lunch time!"

There was a crash and Anglio emerged from the trees, the small mutt baying excitedly to indicate that he was being pursued. You wondered (not for the first time) if Mr. Anglio knew about Dog Anglio. Ezra strode along behind the pup, laughing when the dog play-bowed and barked at him. "You wretched beast, leadin' me o’er hill and dale like a damn huntin' thoroughbred!" He growled good-naturedly, rubbing the dog's proffered belly. 

You smiled a little mistily at the scene, your heart skipping in your chest. 

Escaping the city had been the best choice that you and Ezra had made in your life together thus far. The house you had found, while small, sat on a sprawling, untamed estate that you had fallen in love with instantly. 

Anglio and Turk (formerly known as Foxy and Turducken) were acquired soon after from the shelter of the 'nearby' supply depot. You hadn't actually been looking for a cat, but the stately feline would not take no for an answer. Plus, Ezra had looked so torn as he buried his face in the stoic animal's side right before he had attempted to return him to his cage.

"You want a cat too? It's not like we can't take care of it." You had reasoned with a shrug, already fawning over the little orangey-brown mutt in your arms. Ezra had lit up, nodding firmly.

The cozy, domestic solitude stirred creativity in yourself and the man you shared your life with, culminating in a small collection of illustrated short stories that had, once again, done surprisingly well on the market. Ezra said he wanted to try writing children's books next, laughing when he announced it as if he was joking. His offhand remark had rekindled something in your belly: the warm, soft embers of a bonfire you had assumed long extinguished and buried. Children’s books...

The memories faded as Ezra traipsed up the steps, the last vestiges of spring mud coating his boots. "Ah, my beloved co-conspirator!" He announced dramatically, spreading his arms wide. "How I have missed you whilst engaging in a daring foray into the untamed wilderness!"

"Yes yes, Robinson Crusoe, we're so blessed by your survival skills and ability to create fire." You deadpanned, laughing when he caught you in his grasp and attempted to smother you with kisses. "Oh no, help me Anglio!" You cried in feigned distress, the dog prancing around your legs and yipping in reply. Turk meowed sleepily at all the commotion, putting his head back down after a moment.

"Such harsh barbs from my doting wife!" Ezra teased, rubbing his forehead against your own. "Have you been baking again, gentle soul?" He asked, sweeping a dusting of flour off of your cheek. 

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest as you grabbed his hand and hauled him inside the porch, into the kitchen. "I h-have buns in the oven!" You choked out in a rush when he paused to kick off his boots by the door, unable to wait another second. 

"Wonderful! I am ravenous and…" Ezra trailed off as he straightened up and obviously caught sight of the expression on your face. You could only assume you looked a mixture of terrified and hopeful. It was certainly how you felt, at any rate. His brow furrowed suspiciously. "Wait."

"Well, uh, that is, there's multiple buns in the actual oven, b-but according to the doctor-" You held your hands out, the stance a strange echo of when he had been across from you in the pod all those years ago. "The doctor says j-just one. Healthy! One healthy, um, bun. In my oven." You squeaked. 

Ezra stared at you like he had never seen you before. He finally rasped, "how long?"

"How long what? How long have I known?" He nodded mutely. "Late last night. I had them scan during my routine checkup. I...I wanted to be sure." Your voice petered out as you spoke until you were essentially whispering. Uncertainty gripped your body; was he upset about this? Had you misread the situation? Oh Kevva, what if he didn’t want you now?

Ezra reached for one of the kitchen chairs, clumsily sinking into it. He didn't speak, he just sat there with his head in his hands.

You fidgeted with your towel, tears threatening to spill over as the silence lengthened. "Ezra, is...is this not okay?" You queried softly. 

His shoulders jerked when the timer for the oven went off, but other than that he gave no sign that he had heard anything. You turned your back to him and slipped on your oven mitts, moving almost mechanically to rescue the buns before they too were suited for nothing but croutons. You then shut off the oven and opened the drawer beside the sink, digging blindly for the spatula--

Ezra caught you up around the waist, crushing you to his chest so tightly it felt like all the breath left your body. "A baby!" He boomed, half-laughing as he spoke. "I am exuberant, over the fucking moon! How long do we have, when will they arrive?! I cannot believe this, I just--gentle soul, the serendipity that you have blessed my life with!" He exclaimed warmly, cupping your face and kissing you breathless.

"I take it you’re open to the idea, then?" You gasped out, feeling his thumbs wiping away the tears that had managed to escape. 

"Gentle soul, I...you are a miracle incarnate." Ezra's voice had taken on a tone of heated awe. "Your generous body, accepting my love in such a wondrous new way. I am truly a lucky man. A...I love you so very much." He murmured, his next hungry kiss chasing away all your lingering trepidation. "So, so very much, so much...an insurmountable amount." His hands grasped at your belt loops, tugging your hips in to slot against his own. "To think that when I laid with you during our anniversary, it would bear such precious fruit." He muttered. You felt his cock stirring through his jeans.

"E-Ezra, lunch…" you protested weakly. You still had your oven mitts on, your hands curled into loose fists resting on his chest.

"I will eat it later." He promised, his dark eyes wholly sincere even as his fingers worked at the buttons of your light blouse. "Once I have properly displayed the depth of my...appreciation." 

...

"You alone coax me into such promiscuity, I hope you are aware." Ezra grunted, burying his face in your hair. 

You whimpered down into the bedspread, the thumb that insistently dragged over your clit making your eyes roll back in your head. The blankets were still crisp and fresh from being hung out on the line, the sweet scent of summer sunlight and Ezra dominating your senses.

"You alone, and the notion that you are heavy with our child does not dull the edge in the slightest." He continued breathlessly from his position overhead, grinding his cock into you as deep as it could go and refusing to withdraw. "You feel incredible around me, gentle soul, fucking exquisite." 

His hips crushed to your rear and you rutted your body up onto your hands and knees, meeting him with the soft slap of heated, sweat-drenched skin. "Ezra, please-" you begged, making him hum. "Please, I want to come, please…" 

"Gentle soul, gentle soul," He gasped, "if you keep rocking back against me in that manner, I'll have no recourse but to give you what you ask for." The former prospector seized your arms, dragging you fully upright on your knees. He quickly released you, his wandering hands returning after a moment to rest on your stomach. "Your sensuous form stirs such lascivious thoughts in me." He breathed in your ear, smiling against your neck when you keened out. 

"Love you-" you gasped, and Ezra's fingers gripped your hips tightly. 

"I know you do." He assured, his words gone soft enough to ache, burrow their way into your ribcage and wrap around your heart. "Now come for me." He held himself still and you pushed yourself back against his cock, the methodical sway of your hips finally beckoning you over your edge. You cried out and Ezra caged in your throat with large fingers, the man feeling the vibrations of your enthusiastic climax with a low moan of his own. "How deliciously improbable," his voice grated, "that your sweet little cunt could manage to grip me even tighter than before-!"

"Fill me up, Ezra, come in me, come in me-" you pleaded, sagging back against him. The brilliant Mallen streak flickered into your field of view as the man behind you dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, his hips rolling and bucking furiously. You could feel him panting, hot breath washing over your back as your shaking fingers twined greedily into his hair. 

"What my Eve demands, what--what my gentle soul entreats, I have no choice but to oblige." He rasped out. "I am shattered, rendered insensate by the radiant splendor of this copulation in our private Eden." He mouthed shakily over your shoulder, finally biting down with a grunt as he came hard. You crooned quietly to him while he spent himself inside you and he groaned in reply, making you laugh. "You truly are a delight to behold, gentle soul." He sighed hoarsely, wrapping his arms around your midsection and cradling you close to his trembling body.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, a dopey smile rising on your face when his stomach loudly reiterated the fact that he had ignored lunch in favor of other, far more distracting activities. Ezra grimaced awkwardly. "Work up an appetite?" You teased, kissing the end of his nose and then the exaggerated scrunch of his brows.

"I may have gotten...sidetracked." He admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. "You can hardly judge me for that particular shortcoming, gentle soul." His warm palm splayed possessively on your stomach and he hummed low in his throat, the sound obviously one of contentment. "Our child."

"Ours." You echoed in agreement. 

"I hope that I...no, I left such trepidation behind long ago. I am a better man. For you, for us. And now, for them." Ezra said firmly, placing a kiss on your cheek. "Now, show me the result of your baking. I admit freely to bias, of course; I welcome any and all culinary attempts with open arms, as though they were gifts from the illustrious and powerful Waldorf-Astoria itself."

You squinted. "The what? Listen, I'm used to you being vaguely comprehensible at best, but even I have no idea what the words that just came out of your mouth were."

His reply was simply unrestrained, delighted laughter, his nose pressing into your cheek while he showered your face with even more playful kisses.

In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn...in my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight. For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you...all for the touch of your mouth on mine. 

Bonus baby headcanon!