#i got a taste of happiness over fall break on Monday while reading and now i crave that but i have stupid homework to do

[nocturnalnewsiestrash]

Why must I have to go to classes and write papers and prepare for presentations??? all I want to do is curl up in bed and read Anderperry comfort fics but NOOOO that's too much to ask for

[scuttling]

California

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 4,547 Tags: SFW, Making out, Phone calls, Getting to know each other, Mentions of sex Summary: Monday, the first full day they spend on the case in Los Angeles, after vacation, is tough. The week gets better, and gets worse, as cases like these do, but there are moments of light in the darkness. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 1 year-1 year 3 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! Monday, the first full day they spend on the case in Los Angeles, after vacation, is tough. The unsub they are looking for brutally tortures his victims—his teenage victims—and he’s escalating, kidnapping the third child just 72 hours after the second, so everyone is on edge, working themselves to the bone.

They don’t get back to the hotel until well after eleven, and Sophie plans to take a quick shower and then crash pretty hard after such a draining day, but something makes her head for Aaron’s room after her shower instead.

“Hey,” she says softly when he opens the door, and he smiles, looking as exhausted as she feels. “I just wanted to check in with you really quick. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Yes, but I always have time for you.” He steps back and lets her into the room, and she fidgets nervously—why, she’s not entirely sure. Maybe because this is their first face-to-face in the real world, no hazy, happy vacation feelings making everything softer and easier? She’s not certain, and when he closes the door they just stand there, looking at each other for a moment.

Whether she or he or they both bridge the distance, Sophie can’t say, but one moment they are staring at each other with an electrically-charged foot of space between them and the next they are kissing hot, slow, sultry. One arm wraps around her waist, the other touching her face, her wet hair, and she moans softly against his lips.

Kissing him is everything she thought it would be and more: his hands are strong, but gentle, his lips soft but firm, his body as she presses against him big and solid and delicious, and if he expects her to break the kiss first, he’s going to be waiting a while.

When he eventually pulls back, he rests his forehead gently against hers, smiling down at her like there is some sort of inside joke between them. “Coconut,” he murmurs, and when he presses his nose to the hair at her temple, she understands, smiles back.

“Didn’t realize you like it quite that much,” she teases, still a bit breathless, and he chuckles softly, pulling back a little and putting space between them.

“It’s not just the shampoo I like. I think you’re an incredible woman.” She smiles, maybe a little shy about such a direct complement, and he touches her cheek gently. “I knew that from the moment I met you, but working so closely l got to know you as a person, and I really like who you are.”

“I really like you, too. I like how, in front of outsiders you’re tough, impervious, unmoved, but when it comes to the people you care about you’re just a marshmallow.”

“A marshmallow?” he says, pretending to be offended, and he leans down for another kiss, this one less heated but more indulgent: to Sophie, it feels like the first one, he just needed to get out of his system, but the second is all about tasting her, feeling her. It makes her knees weak, honestly, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders so he can support them both.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs into her ear when they break apart. “Of what I would do if you came into my room, in your little pajama shorts,” he emphasizes by squeezing her butt affectionately, “and told me that you wanted me.” She leans back at that—because he’s hot, so hot, and she gets to look openly now, to touch—and presses her hands against his chest.

“Hmm. What’s your plan, in this situation? When I tell you that I want you?”

“I give you what you want, of course. Anything you want.” She bites at her bottom lip, because she could get really used to hearing that, and takes a few steps back, pulling him with her; she lays down on the bed, guides him so that he hovers over her, and his eyes are dark and wide. When she tugs him closer for a kiss, his hands find her waist again, pushing up the bottom of her shirt.

It feels so good to be under him, another taste of making out like they did on the couch at the beach house. He is a solid line of heat along her body, though he keeps himself from fully dropping his weight onto her, and his hands are deliciously rough on her skin, his teeth perfectly sharp as he nips at her ear. It’s heaven after months of wanting him, absolute heaven.

“Anything I want, you said,” she murmurs, looking up at him when he pulls away, and she brushes a hand through his hair. “Because I want a lot more of that, maybe even a little of this?” His tie is already off, the top button of his shirt unbuttoned, and she slips the next two free, eyes on his face to make sure it’s okay.

“I did say anything,” he confirms, voice low, and he’s breathing hard above her, and that makes her think deeply dirty thoughts...

Someone raps on the door, and Aaron jumps up like she burned him, and she slides off the bed and into a heap on the floor.

They exchange a look, and Sophie hurries to the desk chair across the room. She smooths the front of her clothes, and he buttons his shirt, exhales long, and then opens the door.

“Hey, Hotch; sorry, I know it’s late, but I saw the light on.” He swings the door wide, letting Morgan in, and he looks apologetic when he sees her sitting at the desk. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were here, Cortes. I can come back.”

“No, that’s okay, I got what I came for. It’s getting late, anyway.” She stands and makes for the door, briefly pausing between the two men. “Thank you, Hotch. We can finish that discussion tomorrow, if you like.” She tries to convey a few different things with her eyes, and judging by the gleam in his, he understands them all.

“Absolutely. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Night, Morgan,” she says with a nod, and she smiles softly as she ducks out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, when she’s lying awake thinking of the feel of his hands on her face, her phone chimes.

AH: I’m sorry our discussion ended so abruptly. I was enjoying it very much.

SC: Me too. So was I.

SC: I have high hopes for the future, though.

AH: So do I. I’ll be hard at work coming up with a plan for our first date.

SC: Mmm, I love it when you talk plans.

AH: Now now. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.

SC: Goodnight, Aaron.

AH: Goodnight, Sophie. Tuesday doesn’t go any better, is spent canvassing the neighborhoods and schools and parks near the dump site and basically praying they don’t find another victim. Sophie stares at the crime scene photos, truly some of the most gruesome she’s ever seen, for so long that she’s not even sure how she falls asleep that night, but she’s out as soon as her head hits the pillow. Wednesday is better, in a way. A fourth child is taken, but the unsub makes a mistake, and they get a partial plate which leads them right to him. The third and fourth victims are found alive, if a little worse for wear, but they’re reunited with their families by the afternoon.

Sophie plans on having some pizza and a couple of beers, maybe a bubble bath, to celebrate the victory, but they are all gathered in the lobby of the hotel when JJ’s phone rings, and by the look on her face, it’s not time to celebrate just yet.

“An acquaintance of Strauss’s is asking for our help in San Diego. She wants us to head there right away, since we’re already in California.” Aaron looks a little irritated at the case coming from above him, but he nods—what can he say, no?

“Alright, change of plans, then. Sorry everyone.” There is a chorus of groans—clearly Sophie wasn’t the only one with a different idea of how her evening would go—and they board the jet for a new destination.

Sophie doesn’t even register it’s San Diego until Aaron takes a seat next to her on the flight.

“Hey,” she says quietly, looking around them. It’s suspicious as hell, she knows, but it’s instinct.

“Hi. I used to sit here and talk to you all the time, before; don’t make it weird,” he says with a half smile, and she matches it fully.

“Sorry, have you met me? I make everything weird.”

“I know. I like that about you.” She wants to grin, and keep on grinning, but she knows she looks smitten and tries to tamp it down. “I was coming to ask if you planned to let your brother know you’d be in town.” Realization must dawn on her face, because he frowns. “I take that as a no.”

“Well, I hadn’t planned on it. I didn’t even really put two and two together. And I’m not sure if I should, anyway.”

“I don’t know if I’ve earned the right to weigh in on something like this, yet,” he begins, and she tilts her head, surprised.

“You earned the right a long time ago. I’ve trusted you with some of the most guarded, tender parts of me. I would have thought you knew that already.” He looks into her eyes, nods.

“Yes, I did know that. I just don’t want to overstep.”

“Weigh in all you like,” she says with a soft smile. “If you overstep, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, well. I think you should at least make an attempt to contact your brother while we’re here. If he doesn’t want to see you—that's his loss, but at least you know you tried.”

“What’s the point, though, if I’m 99% sure he’s going to say no? Why put myself through the heartache?” She may hide it well most of the time, but not staying close with her brother after their father’s death is one of her biggest regrets in life. It hurts deeply, and often.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d hold onto hope for the 1% if it meant one more day with someone I love.” She exhales deeply, wills the sudden rush of tears to leave her eyes so she doesn’t cry on the plane, nods.

“You’re completely right. I should at least try. Nada arriesgado, nada ganado. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” His face is soft, and she can tell he wants to touch her, comfort her, maybe kiss her, but there are too many eyes on them. Even Reid is watching their interaction curiously.

“I just want you to be happy, and it’s clear that losing your brother like this has hurt you. This could be your chance to patch things up.” She swallows, puts her hand on his arm; she’s done it before, in front of the others, and it’s painfully obvious they’re having a heart to heart, so it shouldn’t be too unexpected.

“Thank you. Really. I appreciate you.”

“I know. And I appreciate you. Let me know if you need a couple hours, we’ll make it work.” She agrees, and picks up her case file; he does the same, and doesn’t leave.

That night, she can’t sleep, and when a text to Aaron confirms he’s still awake, she presses 'call’, sinks back against the pillows while it rings.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice deep and quiet, and she closes her eyes, soaking it up. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I thought it might get suspicious if I ended up in your room every night, but I wanted to talk to you. Is this okay?”

“This is great. It’s funny how I can miss your voice even after being around you all day.”

“Yeah, for me too. I miss hearing you say my name. My first name.”

“Sophie,” he whispers, low, and she licks her lips.

“Hmm, that’s better. Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?”

“Anything is alright with me. Did your brother ever text you back?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll call me when he wakes up tomorrow—so, around noon, probably,” she says with a laugh, and he chuckles too.

“Well that’s something, at least. A good start.”

“Yeah, it is. Thank you.” She feels herself getting emotional again, and hates that vulnerability, so she forces herself to brighten up. “Maybe we should talk about our previous relationships.”

“Okay. I can go first. You know Haley was my high school sweetheart. We met when we were 15, went to college together, got married at 25. Divorced at 37.”

“Because of your work,” she recalls sadly.

“That’s right. I tried to be very present when I wasn’t working, but it wasn’t enough, of course. We grew apart.” He sighs. “Honestly, she put up with me longer than she should have.”

“It’s the nature of our job, and our personalities. We obsess. It’s not an excuse, but I get it.” She turns onto her side, curls up against her pillow. “What was your favorite thing about her?”

“I always liked how optimistic she was, and ambitious. She was with me every step of the way as I became a prosecutor, then an agent, unit chief, and she became a teacher, then vice principal, principal. For a long time, I thought we were growing together.”

“And for her to encourage you to join the FBI, to do the job you love, and then leave you over it… that must have been hard, even if she had legitimate reasons for wanting to end things.”

“It was hard for me to reconcile for a while. It made more sense when I found out she fell in love with someone else.” Her heart sinks.

“Oh, Aaron.”

“She didn’t cheat on me, but I gave her the time to fall in love with him by not being there. They’re married now, with two kids.”

“Do you still see her?”

“We meet up once a year for coffee, to go over what’s been happening in our lives. I always talk about work, and you can see it makes her feel like she did the right thing. And I’ve started to think that maybe she did.”

“I’m a little biased, so no comment. But I am sorry your heart was broken. Did you date much after?”

“I dated one woman for about 4 months, but we broke up because I wasn’t available.”

“This job makes it hard to be available for anything else. In a way, I’m glad I don’t have much family, that my brother doesn’t want to see me often.”

“I think that’s why we come together the way we do. Found family. It’s almost necessary.” He sighs, and she can tell that’s it for him. “So I know you have said you don’t date much.”

“Yeah, my last real relationship was back in Chicago. Taylor. He works Fire and Rescue.”

“What did you like the most about him?”

“He had a way of making people feel comfortable that I’ve always admired. He makes friends easily, and it translates well to his work, when people are scared or hurt.”

“How long were you together?”

“A year. Doesn’t exactly compare to 22 years, but it’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had. I was busy with school and didn’t really have time to date. Then work got in the way.”

“So you’ve been alone for a while. No family here, no boyfriend.” It makes her sound kind of pathetic, and she laughs lightly.

“Yeah, I guess, but I get by.”

“I know you do. What did you like least about Taylor?”

“He wasn’t like this at first, but before we broke up he… I’m not trying to take this down a sexual path, but the story involves sex, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

“Okay, so you know that a lot of women need direct clitoral stimulation to have an orgasm. I don’t, particularly—I like it, but I don’t need it, I can have an orgasm from intercourse. Well he would just batter my clit, all the time, to the point that it hurt. And when I told him it hurt, he basically mansplained my own body to me, and how that couldn’t be true because he knows ‘the clitoris is one of the most sensitive erogenous zones due to its high concentration of nerve endings’, like he was reading it out of a textbook when a living, breathing woman is sitting there telling him it’s too much. It was the first time I ever cried during sex, and when I can’t trust you with my body, I lose all emotional regard. Things just kind of fell apart from there.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. That he broke your trust that way.”

“Thank you. I think that’s another reason I don’t date. It’s hard for me to fully give myself to another person, to trust, sometimes.”

“I promise I will listen when you’re telling me how you feel, physically or otherwise. I would never do what he did.”

“I know. I trust you. I don’t think we’d be doing this if I didn’t.” She takes a deep breath, blows it out slowly. “Okay, let’s lighten it up. Um… If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?” He hums thoughtfully.

“What a question. I’m assuming this is strictly based on what I want to eat forever, without taking nutrition into account.”

“Of course. What would make Aaron Hotchner smile every time he takes a bite?”

“Okay,” he begins, and she can hear the smile already. “I’m sorry, vegetarian, but it would be a big, juicy cheeseburger, with lettuce and tomato and extra pickles, the skinny French fries, and a cherry Coke.”

“How All-American of you. That’s cute.”

“And what meal would you eat for the rest of your life?”

“So, my instinct is to say tacos, but there’s this jalapeno popper pizza at the shop by my house… If it were legal for me to marry this pizza, I would have done it already.”

“Wow. That must be some pizza. I’m a little jealous.” She laughs softly.

“You probably should be, it’s amazing. It has jalapenos, obviously, but two other types of peppers too, and three kinds of cheese, and ranch sauce. So I’ll make a commitment and say, that pizza. For the rest of my life.”

They talk a little more before heading to bed, and she’s so happy it makes even the prospect of meeting up with her brother seem a little bit less daunting. Thursday is a blur of interviewing witnesses who worked with the victim, but she’s able to sneak away at two to meet her brother Leo for lunch. He looks taller, somehow, more like 6’2” than 6’0”, and darker, from all that good California sun; she grins when she sees him. “Hola, broki. Creciste!” she says, marveling at his height, and he pulls her into a hug, smiles the same goofy, charming smile as always.

“I haven’t grown, I think you shrunk. And you’re so pale.”

“That’s life on the East Coast for you,” she explains as they pull apart, and they take their seats.

“That’s office life, hermana. You need to get out more. I bet your lungs are tired of all that recycled air.”

“I get out when I can. Been soaking up your sun and air the last few days working on this case.” The waitress approaches, and they order drinks; Leo’s a regular, knows what he wants to eat right away, and she orders the same to make things easy.

“The murder of that financial guy, right? Stockbroker, or something?” She raises her eyebrows, surprised he knows that much. “I heard on the news the FBI was on the case, figured that meant you, when you texted.”

“You watch the news?” she teases, because he has always been type to avoid real life at all costs, and the news is about as real as it gets.

“It was on at the DMV; don’t get too excited.” She laughs, because some things never change, and they chat a little more about the case, about what’s going on in his life—girlfriends, boyfriends, parties, surfing—as they eat.

“Actually, I wanted to tell you,” she says after a tale about a tall, dark, and handsome guy named Daunte, setting down her fork, “I have a boyfriend.” His brows shoot up his forehead.

“A boyfriend, ‘mana. I never thought I’d see the day. You’re such a lone wolf anymore.”

“Not by choice, by necessity,” she mutters, stabbing at her salad. “But yes, I have a boyfriend now. It’s really new—like, less than a week new—but it’s been a long time coming.” He takes a sip of his lemonade, smiles softly.

“He’s a Fed like you?” She must appear surprised by his astuteness, because it morphs into a grin. “You’re at work 24/7, Sophia, where else would you meet him?”

“Oh, for a minute I thought you were taking after your profiler sister there, buddy.” He frowns down at his plate.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I hate how you can get into people’s heads.”

“I do it to catch bad people, Leo. Rapists, murderers. I don’t do it to you, and you know it.” She sighs. “I didn’t want to talk about this today, anyway. I just wanted to come see you, catch up. It’s been nice.”

“Yeah, it has,” he agrees easily, and they steer away from the topic of her work, onto safer things. He pays for their meal—she almost falls out of her seat just to get a laugh out of him, and it works—and she has to get back to the precinct, but they make a pact to talk more often, so she considers the whole thing a success.

When she walks into the conference room they are using, she catches Aaron’s eye, points down the hall. “Can I borrow you for a sec?” she asks, and he excuses himself, follows her to the other end of the station; he presses his palm to her lower back when they are out of eyesight.

“Did everything go alright?” he asks seriously, and she pulls him in for a hug. His arms wrap around her easily despite their location, and he sighs, rests his cheek on the top of her head.

“It was really great, Aaron. It was hardly tense at all, and I… I would never have done it if it weren’t for you. So thank you.” When she pulls back, she tries to show him how grateful she is with her gaze, and he can tell, she knows it.

“You’re welcome. I just want you to be happy.” Their people aren’t around, but other cops are, so this is already bordering on too much PDA; she wants to kiss him, but restrains herself, takes a deep breath.

“What can I do to help?” she asks instead, and he fills her in on the new details of the case.

“So what’s your favorite movie of all time?” she asks that night, over the phone again. They’re all hoping it’s their last night in California, that the lead they have will pan out so they can finally go home, but no one more than Sophie and Aaron.

“A Few Good Men.”

“Oh, that’s so lawyerly of you. I probably would have guessed between that and… Witness for the Prosecution.”

“That movie is older than you. It’s older than me.”

“I like old movies. My mama always watched the classics in black and white, so I find it soothing.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, that’s such a hard question. Maybe… The Maltese Falcon? I love the drama of noir films, but I also like romances like Roman Holiday. Or anything with James Stewart.”

“Now I know why you’re attracted to me; you’re an old soul,” he teases, and she laughs softly.

“There are many reasons I’m attracted to you; I’d list them, but I can’t afford to keep you up all night.”

“Not tonight, anyway,” he murmurs, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, smiles like an idiot.

“Right. Not tonight.” She hums as she thinks of another question to ask him. “If you could only use one of your senses, which would it be?”

“Forever?”

“That seems cruel. Let’s say, just for one day. And you wouldn’t have to work, so don’t take that into consideration.”

“Would I be with you?” he asks, and her heart feels soft.

“If you want to be.”

“Then hearing, I think. The way your voice wraps around me when it’s just the two of us, it feels almost like we’re touching, anyway.” God, she’s such a sap, melting completely at his words. She says nothing for a moment, and he clears his throat. “You?”

“Oh, touch, for me. As much as I love the sound of your voice, I’m very tactile, and I don’t think I could go the day without touch without losing my mind.”

“That’s good to know. Explains why you’re always hitting Morgan.” She laughs.

“Yeah, that’s an easy way to get some touching in for the day. I prefer softness, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ve got a question for you, and then we should probably get some sleep,” he says after a moment. “Which of your personality traits are you the most proud of?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Resiliency, I guess? I’ve always been able to push through hard times and focus on my goals. I’m very fortunate in that way. What about you?”

“I would say rationality, I think. It makes me better at what I do, even if it’s not always appreciated.”

“You know that you’re more than this job, right? I mean, I know we agreed that we obsess over it, that we let it be a part of who we are, but it’s not all you are. I can think of so many great traits you have that make you a good person, Aaron.”

“I don’t often tell myself that I’m a good person. A good agent, sure. A good boss, sometimes.” She frowns, feels for him.

“In that case, I’m happy to be the one to tell you. Often. Loudly.” He breathes a laugh, then yawns. “Yeah, I’m ready for bed, too. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get to go home, and we can work on having one of these conversations in person.”

“I would really like that. Sleep well, Sophie.”

“You too. Goodnight.” Friday morning, they catch the murderer, put him behind bars. It’s high profile, and Sophie’s there when they take him in; she hates having cameras in her face, hates California because there are always cameras, but she feels a rush of satisfaction when she gets the killer in the squad car and shuts the door in his face.

A couple of hours later, when she’s packing her bag, she gets a text from Leo: Nice job, hermana. Te amo.

Maybe some things will change after all.

[vanillann]

the 1994 battle of the performers (luke patterson x f.reader)

i. love. this. series. (also i hope you like this chapter idk how i feel about it)

word count: 2.3k

the 1994 battle of the performers masterlist

Chapter 2: Spaghetti Night

“Crap!”

My heel hit the leg of the coffee table, my body going numb at the idea of ruining my knee. As I watched myself almost hit the hard ground of the studio, I felt two hands grab my shoulder.

I was bought slowly to the ground by two of the dancers, Florence and Regan, as they made sure I was okay. A few other girls we had recruited of the dance number rushed to my side, each asking was okay. Devon, the male dancer for the team asked a few other girls to step back as he checked my knee.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine, I didn’t even hit the ground,” it wasn’t a lie, that fall didn’t affect my knee badly and after a few minute break, I’d be back to choreographing the team.

“Milo’s was looking-“

A few girls looked over their shoulders when we heard the band walk in through the open doors of the studio.

“What happened?”

Luke almost dropped his glass as he hurried to one side, Reggie to my other quickly.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Bobby’s voice echoed over the room but before I could stop him Alex was rushing him out the room.

“My heel hit the coffee table, I’m fine,” I did my best to calm each member of the band, Reggie easily calmed down once I had a quick smile. Alex didn’t say anything as he hovered over me, keeping an eye on Devon as he touched my knee.

“We can get rid of the coffee table”, Luke spoke, watching Devon’s finger ghost over my knee before he spoke up.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that since you aren’t a doctor.”

“I read about different techniques to massage hurt muscles when I found out about (Y/N) injury,” he spoke back, smiling to me before I pushed his hand away.

“Thank you, Devon, but I’m fine.”

“I got the first aid kit,” Bobby yelled back, holding above his head and pushing through the group.

“I’m fine,” I was exhausted at repeating the words at this point, I just felt and I’d be fine.

“Your heels are bleeding.”

I looked up at Alex, following his line of sight to my heel that hit the coffee table. It wasn’t a lot of blood, I didn’t even notice it, but it was enough to have everyone in the room panic.

“I’ll do it,” Luke ripped the bandaid from Bobby’s hand but I grabbed it from his own.

“I’m not a child, I can take care of myself,” I opened it up and handed the trash to Reggie who held his hand out for it.

“I think practice is over for today,” Alex turned to the members, each one agreeing that I needed a break.

“No! We’ve only been going for like an hour!”

“More like three,” Luke squeezed my shoulder and pointed to the clock on the wall, surely it wasn’t almost five?

“We will meet Monday afternoon,” Regan held her hand out to me, which I happily took. Luke was at my side, his hands ghosting around me but never touching me.

“But-“

“Shhh!” Alex held his finger over my mouth, quickly pulling it away once he realized.

“Sorry I forgot we aren’t that close-“

“It’s fine, we are close enough for you to be honest with me,” I smiled, sincere with him. Alex was nervous about my presence, I could tell how he avoided certain jokes and such. I just wanted him to understand that at this point, they were the closest friends I got.

“Hey, call me later and we can go over different ideas,” Devon pulled me from my thought, smiling as he wrapped one arm around me and brought me to his side.

“Uhm, yeah sure,” I spoke gently, giving his side a squeeze and nodding once he let go.

“Bye guys,” I waved everyone off, each saying it back and leaving down the long driveway of Bobby’s house.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I looked over my shoulder and Reggie and smiled.

“I’m fine, you all need to stop making a scene,” I went to move to the couch but my leg cramped up, my face morphing into one of discomfort.

“Making a scene, huh?”

I said nothing about Luke’s comment and grabbed his arm instead, each boy in a panic and not knowing if they could touch me or not.

“It’s fine, I don’t bite.”

As soon as I spoke, I felt hands on my let’s and arm, each trying to help the situation but making it incredibly awkward.

“How about I sit on the couch?”

Each agreed, weird shuffling to the couch that was against the wall. Once I made it and I turned around and flopped backward, letting go of Luke’s arm in the process.

I closed my eyes, letting my palm dig at it for a minute before I noticed the burned feeling on my face. As I opened my eyes, each boy watched me with worry.

“I am fine, I’m going to malfunction if I have to say it again!”

I knew it was out of worry, if I wasn’t running off adrenaline I would have been more worried. After the revelation two weeks ago I had been pushing myself, thinking I was the same dancer I was before.

But I wasn't. I felt more and I had to think about moves more often, I wasn’t the same dancer and I thought the more I kept the dancer the more would come back to me.

But that didn’t look to be the case.

“I need to get home,” I muttered, smiling slightly when the cramp went away.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

I nodded, sitting up straighter with no help and pushing off the couch as if nothing happened.

“I’m not in a nursing home for a reason,” I winked at Alex, gaining soft chuckles from the other members.

It was nice, feeling like we were all friends. I couldn’t tell if we were or not. I only ever came over for practice and we didn’t speak about much besides the battle or sometimes about Milo’s, but otherwise, that was the end. But sometimes we’d be sitting around waiting for the other dancers, and it felt light and airy, easy. We could laugh and make little jokes with each other, it just would’ve been nice to be able to call them friends.

They were good guys, I knew that.

“Boys!”

I looked around the boys to see a taller woman, smiling widely at the band. She was gorgeous with tan skin and messy hair. She had wild curls and older band tees that had some holes around the collar.

“Dinner,” the woman, who I was pretty sure was Bobby's mother, held her arm out as if to tell the boys they could exit.

Each jumped with joy, smiling as they all made their way from the studio to the driveway.

“You must be (Y/N), the boys told me about you,” she smiled as I slowly made my way out, not as excited as the boys who were already at the door waiting.

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled, proud to have finally met the woman who’s been letting me dance in her studio.

“Even nicer to meet you,” she took a right, walking to the door of the gorgeous house. I took a left, prepared to hit the sidewalk and make it back to my empty house.

“Where are you going?”

I turned around, watching as Bobby and his mother waved me over, holding the door open for me while Alex, Reggie, and Luke waited inside.

“Oh I can’t Ms-“

“Call me Heather,” she called back, jogging slightly as she left Bobby to hold the door. She jogged till she stood in front of me, guiding my shoulders back to the house.

“Dinner is on us,” she smiled, watching me as I grabbed the railing to the small steps and walked up. Bobby smiled as he gave a joking bow, a smile gracing my lips and Reggie was jumping at the scene.

“It’s a tradition that to be part of the band you have to eat at the Wilson household,” Reggie smiled larger as I actually walked in the house.

“I’m not part of the band,” I corrected, pointed a finger over my shoulder as I admired the high ceilings and the beautiful wooden architect.

“Eh, close enough,” Luke pulled the back of my shirt, silently telling me to follow him. It wouldn’t be hard to find the kitchen by the way the smell cascaded each hall, making the house feel homer than ever.

As I stepped foot into the dining area, I saw Alex finding a plate in a cabinet and setting it at the table.

“Mr. Wilson out of town,” Heather muttered, filling in the small blanket she assumed I had.

“You know what that means!”

Each boy seemed to jump over this news, which was odd. Who wanted their parents out of town?

“Spaghetti night!”

The boys seemed even more excited, taking their seats with giant smiles on their faces. I said nothing, still taking in the family photos of the happy family and the gorgeous china.

“I think we’ve overwhelmed her,” Alex whispered, not quite enough but still light.

“I just didn’t expect this,” I didn’t know how to explain it but it was weird eating a meal at a table with people, I hadn’t done it in so long.

“Well expect it now,” Luke but back, patting the seat between Alex and him, Reggie and Bobby on the other side with a spot for Bobby’s mom.

“Ready!”

I had barely made it to my seat when Luke was pulling me down, smiling widely as Bobby’s mother walked out with a giant bowl of noodles in one hand and sauce in the other.

“Bobby dear, grab the breadsticks,” she called as she placed the bowls in the center of the table. Bobby wasted no time as he hurried to the kitchen for the breadsticks.

“You’ll love this,” Luke smiled, reaching for the silverware in the noodle bowl. I was shocked when he grabbed my plate, placing food on it, instead of his own.

“Heather taught me how to be a gentleman,” Luke spoke as he gave my plate back, sending a wink my way in the process.

I hide my smile with my hand, turning to look the other way to come face to face with Alex.

“You need to try it first, band rule,” he pointed around the table as all eyes waited for me to dive into the food. I decided not to wait, as Luke looked like he was going to cry if he didn’t eat soon, rolling some around on my fork before I brought it to my lips.

The noodles were perfectly done and the sauce absorbed itself perfectly. I could taste a hit of basil and maybe some pepper as the food melted on my tongue. I smiled as I chewed, giving a big thumbs up once I finally swallowed.

“Yes!”

Each boy didn’t waste time, reaching for breadsticks and carrots, laughing about lord knew what as they did so.

“So (Y/N),” Luke turned to me halfway through the night, spaghetti sauce smeared across his chin.

“-How does it feel to officially join Sunset Curve,” he smiled goofily, doing his best not to show he was speaking with food in his mouth.

“I’m not a part of Sunset Curve, remember?”

“Well you’re the official choreographer of Sunset Curve,” he spoke back, picking up a breadstick and smashing it in his mouth.

I only laughed, not worried about it too much. I was on the band until the battle then we’d move on. It’d be nice to be friends with the guys but that didn’t mean we’d still talk.

It would be fun while it lasted.

“I have a mason jar in my mailbox, Milo says you need an official one,” Heather spoke, smiling widely as I did my best to keep my drink down.

“That’s not necessary,” I tried to argue but Alex placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You can’t get out of this one,” he gave me a straight face but as soon as I started laughing he followed behind me.

“I’m sorry,” I laughed along, trying to look back at Alex but every time we did we started laughing again.

“Is there an inside joke I’m not getting?”

Reggie’s words caused Alex and me to laugh harder, trying my best to calm my nerves for the first time that day.

“They are going to rise against us now,” Bobby spoke up, standing from the table dramatically and moving to get something from the kitchen. Alex bumped his shoulder with mine, making my nerves from earlier disappear completely.

The dinner went on with laughs and jokes, which made me feel truly like a member of the band.

“I should really head home,” I spoke as Bobby took my plate to be washed off, placing the napkin that Luke put on my lap as a joke back on the table.

“Let me walk you,” Luke stood up beside me, handing his plate to Reggie who followed Bobby into the kitchen.

“I’m fine.”

“What if you fall?”

I rolled my eyes, waving to Heather who was in the kitchen, thanking her for the nice home-cooked meal.

“I’m not dancing, I can walk perfectly fine,” I said my goodbye’s, Alex giving a quick side hug with his before I walked to the door with Luke trailing after me.

“But-“

“I’m fine,” I spoke for the millionth time that day, smiling over my shoulder and I left the warm house to the cold outdoors.

“Fine, if you fall scream,” Luke crossed his arms, watching me walk down the stairs to the long driveway.

“Will do!”

I have a thumbs up over my shoulder, not daring to look back as I made my way down the driveway to the sideway.

“I mean really yell,” his voice echoed back, making a laugh boil over to the night sky above me.

“I’ll scream bloody murder just for you Patterson!”



the 1994 battle of the performers taglist:

@gia-kerks @notwonder-woman @poisoned-girl @phantompogues @dovesgrangers





[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr | Also on AO3

Epilogue: Martin Prime

“…see it into a new era. Please join me in welcoming to the podium the Head of the Magnus Institute of London, Dr. Walter…Kos-ki-e-wicz.”

“Fifteen months and he still can’t pronounce it properly,” Jon whispered under the cover of the applause that followed the introduction.

“He’s better than he used to be,” Martin whispered back, squeezing Jon’s hand gently. “Go make nice.”

Jon lifted Martin’s fingers to his lips and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the knuckles before pushing back from the long table and getting to his feet. Martin turned his head towards where the podium ought to be, thankful they’d been able to come in early and get the layout of the room so he didn’t look like a complete tit staring off into the wrong direction, as the clapping gradually tapered off into an expectant silence.

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell.” Jon popped the normally silent P with a dry, pointed humor Martin knew well. When the laughter had died down, he continued in the deep, rolling affectation he had begun adopting when he needed to act as the face of the Institute. “Friends, colleagues, distinguished guests. I stand before you tonight with the awesome and humbling privilege of thanking you all for coming to celebrate two hundred years of the Magnus Institute.”

Martin, who had listened to Jon practice this speech in the comfort of their living room at least twenty times in the last two weeks, let it fade into the background and settled back into his seat. Not being able to scan the assembled gathering was annoying, but while this might have been the largest event they had attended in the past year, it was by no means the first. He was used to having to fold his hands over his stomach, or the end of his cane, and imagine what everyone’s faces were doing.

A familiar whirring started up from the space Jon had vacated, and Martin smiled and laid his fingers on the tape recorder as it buzzed away. Somehow, it was comforting to know she was still listening, even now.

It hadn’t been easy getting to this point. Martin had never really actually expected killing Jonah Magnus to instantly make everything sunshine and roses again, but he definitely hadn’t expected the attempt to drain Jon so badly that he collapsed in his arms. Nor had he expected that it would take three days for him to open his eyes again. (Melanie had teased Jon a bit about “taking this whole Messiah Complex to extremes”, but even she’d been strained.) And the news from Great Yarmouth hadn’t helped matters. Martin was still kind of thankful that he hadn’t been able to see Sasha’s face when she got off the phone with Basira and reported what little she knew. Or the look on his counterpart’s face when he called and filled in the gaps thirty-six hours later. Martin had hoped they’d get out of the building before blowing it up, but at least they hadn’t gone into the Unknowing itself.

It had still been touch and go, though, and Tim was still adjusting to his new reality, but thankfully he had plenty of support. Martin could hear in their voices when they spoke that they were happy, in a way he was only just learning himself that he could be.

Jon made a surprisingly good Institute Head. It hadn’t necessarily been something he’d planned on, but when they got back from taking Charlie to see Present Jon and Present Martin—who refused to leave the hospital until Tim was awake and ready to come home himself—and Melanie informed him about the new temporary head, Jon had almost literally hit the roof and stormed the Institute himself. It had taken him two days to manage to get an audience with Peter Lukas, but in the end, he’d stood before him and informed him that he had a choice: Vacate his position and leave the Institute alone, or be destroyed utterly.

Peter Lukas, unsurprisingly, had chosen poorly.

For Jon to subsequently take control of the Institute had been Sasha’s idea, and her points—that Jon was bound to the Institute and would need a reason to stay close to it, that he was the only person who knew enough to keep it running and keep it safe, that anyone else would either make things worse or become corrupted by the Beholder—had been valid. She’d crafted an entire identity for both Jon and Martin and somehow managed to have Dr. Walter Koskiewicz declared Elias Bouchard’s sole heir. Publicly, that was who he was and who he remained, but on the day he’d assumed the position of Institute Head, he had called a meeting of all the department heads and bluntly, concisely, and completely told them the entire truth. He had left it up to each head whether or not to tell their staff everything—although he was emphatic that they be told about the Eye, at least to some extent—and had made it clear that anyone who wanted to quit would be more than welcome to do so, with full severance; he wouldn’t hold it against anyone who chose to leave. But, as he had told Martin that night when he got back from the Institute, he didn’t want anyone else feeling trapped, or to not know they were working for, essentially, a fear god. He’d been far more surprised than Martin when, out of eighty-seven employees, only three had chosen to leave and one had asked for their job back a week later.

Getting the rest of Elias’s estate had taken longer. Obviously there was no body, so what they technically had was a missing person. Surprisingly, it was Daisy who’d pushed that forward by manufacturing proof that he’d been killed in the explosion at Great Yarmouth, claiming she’d followed him there as part of her hunt for Gertrude Robinson’s murderer. When Tim, freshly back in the Archives, looked over the assortment of tapes that had previously been in the tunnels and unerringly plucked the one with Gertrude’s death on it, Daisy’s superiors decided that he was responsible for the House of Wax as well, closed both files, and declared him officially dead.

Jon told Martin that Jonah Magnus had terrible taste in interior decorating. Martin told him he would just have to take his word for it.

Martin tuned back into Jon’s speech as he caught the words that meant he was winding down. He’d been reluctant to agree to this event, especially given what today was, but it was expected, so he’d caved, with a few stipulations. The speech, unfortunately for Jon, was non-negotiable, but at least he was able to keep it fairly short.

“And so, as we move into our third century, I leave you with a few carefully chosen words,” Jon said. “To our Institute donors, I give these words: Thank you for your support of the Magnus Institute over the years, and I hope that you will continue to support us throughout the changes to come. To those who come to the Institute to study and learn, I give these words: Your work furthers ours as much as ours furthers yours, and we look forward to working with you and developing that relationship, now and well into the future. And to you, the Institute employees, those who make this Institute what it is, I give these words…” He paused for a moment, letting the suspense build, and Martin licked the corner of his mouth to hide his smirk. It was obvious from Jon’s voice, though, that he wasn’t bothering to hide his own. “Three-day weekend. See you all on Monday.”

The cheers, applause, and laughter nearly drowned out Jon’s “Thank you”, and Martin let his grin escape as he joined in the applause. He heard the rustling of fabric and guessed what was happening a split-second before Wade’s tap to his elbow told him for sure they were giving Jon a standing ovation.

It went on for nearly a minute solid before it started to die down, and as Martin slowly sank back into his seat, he felt Jon’s gloved fingers tangle in his.

“Almost done,” Martin murmured, knowing Jon was close to his breaking point but would never admit it.

There were a few closing remarks, and then footsteps came over to them. “All right, if you’ll just stand over this way and greet a few people…”

“No more than half an hour. I mean it, Harrison,” Jon warned.

“I know, Mr.—I mean Dr.—uh, sir,” Harrison stammered. “I promise.”

“Mister Doctor Sir?” Martin teased Jon as Harrison walked away. “Sounds like something you’d name a character in Spire.”

“That’s Mister Doctor Director Sir to you.”

They shared a laugh before Martin took a half-step back, cane folded up in one hand and his other resting discreetly against the small of Jon’s back. Jon took a deep breath and straightened himself up, but didn’t move away from the point of contact. They’d learned their lesson one of the first times Jon had had to do an official event. Martin did some of the bookkeeping and budgeting for the Institute—God knew he’d picked up enough being Peter Lukas’s assistant, and Jon knew bugger all about the business side of things—but for the most part, he wasn’t an employee and certainly wasn’t who the more important guests at these events wanted to talk to, so he’d stepped back and stayed quietly in the background. Unfortunately, the Lukases were still Institute donors, and even if they avoided Jon beyond the bare minimum that politeness dictated, the presence of even one was still enough for Martin to slip back into old habits. Thank God the bond Annabelle had put on them was still extant and he’d been able to pull himself back, but it had still been a scary few minutes for both of them.

Most of the donors who spoke to Jon—briefly, Harrison was being as good as his word about limiting the official greetings—either ignored Martin or only acknowledged him with a silent nod, which amounted to the same thing. For the most part, Martin didn’t mind, but he could tell it was getting to Jon long before the fifteen-minute mark.

“Last one, sir, I promise,” Harrison whispered at last.

“Harrison, I have told you about the ‘sir’ thing,” Jon muttered. Martin hastily turned his laugh into a cough.

“Dr. Koskiewicz, so good to see you again.” Martin couldn’t place the speaker’s voice except that it was posh, which meant it was an Institute donor, and loud. Probably belonged to a large man, almost certainly an older one.

“It’s an honor to have you here, Sir Henry,” Jon replied, his voice slightly strained. Martin guessed that the man had a very firm handshake; an ordinary hand would be swollen and sore after half an hour of shaking, but the scarring on Jon’s made it far worse. “And you as well, Lady Vane-Tempest.”

“Lovely party, darling, so kind of you to invite us,” Lady Vane-Tempest said. Her voice, at least, Martin couldn’t forget—well-bred, but harsh and grating at the same time. He’d met the Vane-Tempests at the Christmas “party” he’d been forced to run on behalf of Peter Lukas and had not enjoyed the experience. “Congratulations on two hundred years. Obviously you haven’t been here the whole time, of course!” She trilled with laughter.

Martin felt Jon stiffen, and then he said with forced politeness, “Thank whatever gods you believe in that I haven’t, madam.”

“Looking forward to touring the building,” Sir Henry said. “Understand you’ve got some new interesting new acquisitions in your Artifact Storage. Love to see them.”

“We’re not doing tours this evening, I’m afraid,” Jon said. “That was the end of the gala, but it’s good of you to come. If you’ll get in touch with Ms. Zampano, I’m sure we can arrange a suitable time for you to see the building.”

“Oh, come now, darling, surely you can spare some time now,” Lady Vane-Tempest coaxed. If Martin was any judge, she’d been imbibing freely of the champagne, enough to get at least slightly tipsy. “We’re so looking forward to it.”

“I do apologize, but I have another commitment this evening.” Martin was a bit startled when Jon’s arm slid around his waist, but he willingly shifted his own position to return the gesture. The smile in Jon’s voice was obvious; he’d never been very good at hiding his pride and delight in anything to do with their relationship. “It’s our first wedding anniversary, you see.”

The Vane-Tempests mumbled polite congratulations, wished Jon a good night, and moved away. Jon let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his toes and sagged against Martin. “Thank God that’s over with.”

“That’s the last one,” Harrison promised. “I’ll just go say a few words to the press. Have a good weekend and—um—happy anniversary?”

“Thank you,” Jon and Martin said in unison. Martin unfolded his cane, and they walked out of the Institute the same way they had since escaping Peter Lukas in their own time—arm in arm.

Ninety minutes later and Martin, wearing his most comfortable sweater and a soft, threadbare pair of jeans, walked into the room they had designated as the “living room” with two mugs of tea and set them on the heavy, solid coffee table. “How’s the hand?”

“Still a bit sore, but I’ll recover.” Jon’s voice sounded slightly muffled. Martin wasn’t sure why until he heard the soft crackle of burning wood, and then Jon was right next to him and pulling him down for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Martin murmured, brushing his nose against Jon’s. As he pulled back, he added, “By the way, there was a message from the agency. They’re coming by for another assessment tomorrow, around noon.”

“Good thing I gave everyone the day off, then. Did she say anything about how the application is looking?”

“I don’t know that they’d tell us that on a message. We can ask when she gets here.”

The doorbell rang with the deep, sonorous tones Martin still privately felt belonged in a Gothic soap opera, and Jon sighed and slid out of Martin’s arms. “Bets on who got here first?”

“Not against you,” Martin informed him. Jon’s snickers followed him out of the room.

After more than a year of living in the house, Martin knew his way around by heart, especially after they redid the flooring so that he could tell by the texture beneath his feet which way he was heading. He made it to the front door without bumping into anything, made sure the chain was still secure, and pulled the door open to the length of the chain. “Who goes there?”

“Just the usual suspects,” Tim’s voice said. “We even found a Sasha rattling around in the gutters.”

“Shut up, Tim,” Sasha said, a bit grouchily.

Martin chuckled and closed the door enough that he could undo the chain, then pulled the door open. “Come on in. There’s a fire going.”

Each one of them gave him a hug as they came in, prefaced by a greeting so he’d know who he was hugging. He was pleasantly surprised when, after a fierce hug from Melanie, he heard a higher voice say, “It’s Georgie. Will you accept one from me?”

“Oh, sure, of course.” Martin hadn’t worried about any of Jon’s exes, or anyone who might possibly catch his interest and remind him that he could do better, since—well, actually, since they’d been reunited after traveling back in time, but the weight of the ring on his left hand and the memory of the tremble in Jon’s voice as he’d promised ‘til death comes for us both had finally quieted the last of his doubts. And Georgie did give good hugs. “Glad you could make it, Georgie. Anyone else?”

“No, Basira pulled a night shift tonight, I think. Here, let me get that.” Georgie—or someone, anyway—pulled the heavy door shut and slid the chain into place. “Hope we’re not too early.”

Martin shook his head. “You’re fine. Not like we’re doing anything particularly exciting.”

It took a few minutes of arranging, playful debates, and mostly-joking grumblings about getting those disgusting socks away from the food, Timothy Stoker, but soon everyone was settled down with something to drink and a baked good from the basket the others had brought with them. Jon sighed with obvious pleasure and curled up against Martin’s side; Martin wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

“Where’s Charlie tonight?” he asked.

“Late rehearsal, and Sasha’s uncle offered to pick him up and watch him after,” Present Jon answered. “We’d have brought him along, but he’s got a maths exam tomorrow and I know he’s not ready for it.”

Tim laughed. “Come on, Jon, cut him some slack. He’s doing much better this term than he did in the spring.”

“To be fair,” Melanie pointed out, “there was kind of a lot going on in the spring.”

There was a hum of agreement before Georgie added, “From everything you lot told me, I didn’t expect that grandmother of his to fight you so hard on custody.”

Present Martin sighed heavily. “I did. I mean, the last thing she wanted was for people to think she was a terrible guardian, you know? Even if Children’s Services didn’t get involved and take him away, the very fact that someone else dared ask to take him—and the fact that Charlie wanted to go…”

“And the fact that you kept insisting on referring to him as him, despite the fact that she has consistently and for his entire life refused to accept that he’s a boy,” Sasha put in. “She’s a poisonous old witch and he’s lucky to be shed of her. But yeah, between that and the fact that he got anxious and panicky and afraid to let any of you out of his sight—you know, at the beginning of April—it’s no wonder he came close to failing the spring term.”

There was a short pause before Present Martin asked carefully, “Did he tell you that, or…?”

“Oh, goddammit,” Sasha sighed. “He didn’t say anything to any of you about that, did he?”

“No, but we should have noticed,” Present Jon said quietly.

Melanie snorted. “I’m not sure how you would have, considering how clingy the three of you were being.”

Martin tightened his arms around Jon as the Archives crew began bickering, mostly lightheartedly but with an undercurrent of seriousness. During their first time experiencing…well, everything they had experienced…he and Jon had never really had a chance to stop and consider anniversaries. The one-year anniversary of Jane Prentiss attacking the Institute had fallen while they were trying to get ready for the Unknowing; the one-year anniversary of that had been while Martin was still having to avoid Jon, but he remembered staring at his reflection in the mirror and wondering if he would be better off calling out of work or if he should go in and lurk in the shadows of the Archives to reassure himself that Jon was actually still there. Passing the anniversaries—or, for that matter, the dates themselves—in a timeline where they didn’t technically happen hadn’t made things significantly better, so he could definitely understand why the present crew had been reluctant to be far from each other a year after so nearly losing one another, and more particularly nearly losing Tim.

Jon sank against him, also clinging tightly, and let the banter go on for a bit before he broke in. “Have you told Charlie about the trip?”

“We’re going to surprise him after school tomorrow,” Tim said, and Martin was pretty sure he could hear the relief in it. “Hope he likes the plan. He’s been asking to come with us the next time we go out of town since Jon got back from Jonah’s little hell-quest, and I don’t think he’s ever been out of London.”

“Well…you weren’t conscious at the time, but they did bring him to visit while you were…” Present Jon’s voice trailed off.

Martin was about to say something when something solid and heavy hit his leg on four tiny pressure points and screamed. Only six months of practice enabled him not to jump completely out of his skin. “Hello, Duchess.”

“Oh, damn, I didn’t feed them before the gala.” Jon carefully disentangled himself from Martin and removed the solid iron weight masquerading as a ball of fur from his lap. “Come along, Your Grace. What have you done with your sister?”

Martin couldn’t help the soft smile that touched his lips as he stared off in the direction Jon had gone. Hearing him talk to the cats in that tone of voice always did something funny to his insides.

The smirk in Melanie’s voice was obvious. “I genuinely can’t decide which one of you is going to be the bigger pushover when you get approved to adopt.”

“Have you heard anything yet?” Present Martin asked.

“There’s another visit scheduled tomorrow. We’re almost four months into this part of the process. I’m hoping we’ll have an answer soon.” Martin picked up his mug of tea and took a sip. It had started to cool a bit, but it was still drinkable. “Not that we’re in a hurry or anything, but it’d be nice to know, you know?”

“I could probably poke at your social worker’s mind and see if they have an answer,” Sasha offered. “It’d be easy.”

“Sasha, we’ve talked about this,” Present Jon said with an audible frown.

“Yeah, if I can manage to keep myself under control…” Tim trailed off. “Sorry, Georgie. I know you’d rather we didn’t talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” Georgie said with a sigh. “I’m getting used to it. It’s not like any of you can just…stop being what you are. Did—um—did your Georgie have a problem with it?”

It was the first time she’d asked about her past self since being introduced to Jon and Martin over a year ago, and Martin couldn’t explain why it felt so weird. “She did. At first, anyway. But I think it was less the whole…supernatural fear thing and more the fact that we—and particularly Jon—kept acting like nothing was wrong.”

“Yeah. At least you lot admit this is messed up.”

“Not so much the admitting it’s messed up as trying from the get-go not to play into it,” Jon’s voice said from the direction of the kitchen. The loveseat bounced slightly—very slightly—as he sat down, leaned into Martin’s side, and kissed his cheek. “Your cat is a menace.”

“Why is she only my cat when she’s misbehaving?” Martin teased, turning his head to capture Jon’s lips with his own before they moved away. “What’s Cosmic done now?”

“Just the fact that you know it was Cosmic Creepers—”

“The Duchess has made it very clear that she’s your cat.”

Sasha gave a mock-groan. “You two as actual parents are going to be insufferable.”

Melanie’s snort was practically elephantine. “Like you don’t have the three of these with Charlie as evidence for that.”

Martin sensed the remark calculated to cause maximum chaos coming before Tim opened his mouth, but there was nothing he could do to head him off. “So, Melanie, when are you and Georgie going to add a bundle of joy to your family?”

The resultant storm of profanity and invective directed at Tim sent Jon into paroxysms of laughter, and from the sound of it, Present Jon as well. Martin could imagine Tim’s triumphant, shit-eating grin. Even Sasha was giggling.

“Seriously. I don’t even want more than one cat,” Georgie finally said when the chaos wound down. “Children have never been in my plans. Not even remotely.”

“Have you ever thought about fostering?” Present Martin asked. “Teens, maybe? I bet you’d be good at it.”

A short silence followed the question, and when Melanie answered, there was a note of surprise in her voice. “Maybe. Not right now, though.”

“I guess my question is—and please, none of you take this the wrong way—why would you want to involve a child in the…life you’re all leading?” Georgie asked. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“No more than being a child is dangerous anyway,” Jon said. “Most of the fears don’t…a child’s fear isn’t fully formed, so it’s not as satisfying, but that doesn’t mean they don’t pay attention. I was marked young. So was Annabelle Cane. Callum Brodie was on the Dark’s radar long before Rayner chose him as a vessel. A-apparently the End was paying attention to all of us before my father died. A child being taken care of by someone who knows what’s out there, and isn’t…enamored with it, I suppose, stands a better chance than a child wholly unprepared.”

Martin rubbed Jon’s arm. “Besides. The more connections you have outside the Archives, the harder it is for the Fears to…use you. I guess. Even besides the Lonely, the more isolated you are, the easier you are to hurt.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Present Jon said, sounding like he was talking half to himself. “But it does make sense why Jonah tried so hard to pit us against one another. A person with no support is far more vulnerable. Far easier to use and manipulate.”

“And that’s what beat him in the end,” Melanie said. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Hear, hear.” Martin raised his mug in salute. Someone clinked a mug or glass against it, and the conversation drifted to other, less volatile topics.

They’d done this a lot over the last year. Ever since Jon, or his alter ego, had officially inherited the estate, they spent more evenings and weekends here than they did in Tim, Present Martin, and Present Jon’s house. First there’d been the intense repainting and redecorating period, during which Martin had offered deadpan commentary on color choices until Jon threatened to paint his mouth shut and Tim had unearthed more than a few artifacts belonging to other entities in various nooks and crannies. Once they were settled in, there had been pizza and pasta-making parties, movie marathons, drinks after hard weeks, and game nights. They’d come over to wrestle the garden into submission in the spring, helped decorate the house for Christmas, and watched fireworks on New Year’s from the widow’s walk on the roof. Jon had even organized an Easter Egg hunt for the neighborhood children, which had been when Martin had finally broached the idea of reaching out to the local authority about beginning the adoption process.

And exactly one year ago tonight, they had stood in the drawing room they never otherwise used and finally, finally made the bond between them a legal one.

“I can’t believe you two are spending your anniversary like this,” Sasha said, and if Martin didn’t know for a fact that she couldn’t read his mind beyond finding a back door into his dreams when Jon’s lay alongside her, he’d have told her off for it. “You’re such hopeless romantics, I expected you to go out for a candlelit dinner somewhere. Moonlit stroll in the park. Kissing under the stars.”

“It’s Thursday,” Martin reminded her.

“We’re going to Scotland for the weekend,” Jon said. “That’s part of the reason I gave everyone a three-day weekend, so we could get an early start and make the most of it.”

“I accuse you of abusing your position for your own gain,” Georgie said, but she was laughing as she did so.

“I’ll confess to that,” Jon replied immediately. Martin couldn’t help but laugh. “But seriously, we—it’s going to be a nice, relaxing weekend, but we thought spending the evening with our family would be a good start.”

Something thumped down on the coffee table. Martin guessed it was Melanie’s glass. “You know what I can’t believe? That you picked the eighteenth of October to get married. I mean, you know literally everything in the world, and certainly everything about the Institute. You had to know that was the day the Institute was founded. And then you had to spend your first anniversary making nice with the donors. Why would you do that?”

Martin looked in Jon’s direction. “You want to tell them, or shall I?”

Jon sighed heavily and dropped his head to Martin’s shoulder. “You go ahead. I’d rather not say it out loud.”

“Uh-oh.” Tim sounded worried. “This is…what happened on the eighteenth of October, 2017 in your timeline?”

“Bugger all,” Martin replied. “It was today. In our original timeline, this was when Jonah slipped his ritual into a statement and fed it to Jon against his will. Eighteenth October, 2018.” He ran his hand through Jon’s hair, which had fallen out of its braid. “We didn’t want to wait until this year to get married, but we’d already agreed that we wanted it to be the eighteenth. We wanted to take back the day Jonah Magnus tried to ruin and make it ours.”

“To replace the memories,” Present Martin said softly.

“Exactly. He’s taken too damn much from us already. We’re not letting him have everything.” Martin pressed a kiss to the top of Jon’s head.

“So where in Scotland are you going?” Present Jon asked.

“John O’Groats. It’s—Daisy used to have a safehouse up there,” Jon explained. “Well, she still has the house, but she’s just renting it out to vacationers these days. She told us we could use it for free a couple times a year as a thank-you for helping her get the Hunt under control.”

“Yeah, Basira says she’s a lot more relaxed than she was when she was a cop,” Sasha said. “If you can believe it. Is that where you two stayed…um, up until the eighteenth of October?”

“Yep.” Martin popped the P in a method that, he hoped, would indicate the subject is closed and you should not push further, Sasha James.

Thankfully, it seemed to work. Georgie was the next to speak up. “What about you three? Do you have plans for your trip to America or is it just more of a ramble?”

“We were planning to visit Boston,” Present Martin answered. “Lots of history, lots of walking trails, lots of potentially haunted stuff. But…well, Jon changed things around a couple weeks ago and he’s been vague about what we’re doing now.”

“Oh.” Present Jon sounded both embarrassed and excited. “I—ah—I’m sorry, I got so…I completely forgot I hadn’t told you. I managed to track down my cousin. You know, the one I stayed with for a bit before starting uni? He moved to a new town about the time I started at the Institute, actually. Apparently he’s married now. His husband sounds…um, interesting. And he wants to meet you two—and Charlie, too. I actually managed to get us tickets out there. I—I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind getting the chance to meet a relative that not only doesn’t hate you, but doesn’t care you’re in a relationship with two other men and is excited about the idea of meeting us? Of course we do, it sounds horrific, why would you do something like that,” Tim said flatly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jon, we’d love to meet your cousin.”

“It’ll be fun,” Present Martin agreed. “Did you ever…I mean, have you met him?”

It took Martin a second to realize the question was directed at him. “Honestly, until you all started talking about him, I didn’t even know Jon had a cousin.”

“I’d love to see him again,” Jon said, a bit wistfully. “I do miss him. I suppose asking you to pass on my best wishes would be a little much, but…”

“I’m going to tell him,” Present Jon said softly. “About all of this. I think he deserves to know, and…I think he can handle it.”

“Well. Give me a call if you get the chance. I’d love to talk to him.”

“Of course.” Present Jon hesitated. “I—um, I think he might have a couple…statements. Something about the way he said ‘scientifically interesting’ when talking about the town. I’m going to tell him about…this, and us, and what we can do. Let him decide if he wants to share.”

Jon made a slightly pained noise, but Martin rubbed his arm soothingly and said, “You’ll probably need something. At least Tim will. That’s—you’ll be too far from the Institute for too long not to take a statement or two. Better if it’s someone willing, wouldn’t you say?”

Tim took a deep breath. “Does it ever get any easier? Needing to—sensing in your case, or seeing in mine, that someone has a statement, and needing it so badly?”

“Not really,” Jon admitted. “It’s why I don’t go out alone so often. The trouble is that sometimes it helps them and sometimes it…doesn’t, and you can never tell before they tell their stories whether it will or not. The Eye likes it better when it’s…forced, but the Eye can honestly get stuffed. We’re doing this on our terms.”

“Hell yeah,” Tim said with a laugh. Jon leaned forward at Martin’s side, and from the sounds, he guessed they were bumping their fists together.

They spent about another hour together, talking and laughing and generally relaxing. Finally, though, Present Martin asked, “How early were you two planning to head out?”

“Not until early afternoon. The social worker is coming, remember?” Martin shrugged. “But if you lot want to get going…”

“Yes, we—we should probably make sure Charlie’s in bed, and I’m sure Wade is ready to be released,” Present Jon said. There were a number of rustles and creaks as everyone got to their feet, and Martin stood, too, stretching out his spine. “Call us when you get there.”

“We will. Let us know when you get to America,” Jon replied.

“Are you taking the cats, or do you want us to stop by and look after them?” Melanie asked.

Martin paused and looked in Jon’s direction. He could practically feel his thoughts flowing between them, running through the bond Annabelle had put on them like a telegraph wire. “Well, we were going to take them, but…actually, would you mind?”

“Of course not. We’d be delighted,” Georgie said.

Jon squeezed Martin’s waist, then slid away. “Come here, then, let me show you where we keep the food.”

Martin saw the others to the door and handed out another round of hugs. Jon arrived with Georgie just before they pulled away, so was at least able to wave, and he hugged both Georgie and Melanie and thanked them again. And then it was just the two of them, alone in their house, and together.

Jon shut and latched the door, then took Martin’s hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. Close your eyes and follow me.”

Martin smiled more broadly, but he did as Jon asked. Jon led him through the house and up three flights of stairs. It somehow didn’t surprise Martin when Jon pushed open a final door and he heard the soft sounds of an autumn evening.

“Stargazing?” he teased.

“It is a good night for it,” Jon said, not rising to the bait. “But no, not what I had in mind.” He tugged Martin forward a few feet, then added, “You can open your eyes now.”

Martin didn’t point out that it wouldn’t do any good; he simply opened his eyes. He could smell roses and peonies, he thought—the same flowers they’d decorated the drawing room with for their wedding. There was a soft click, and a tape recorder began playing—which made him smile—and then Jon was there and holding his hands. “Can I have this dance?”

Martin’s smile broadened as he recognized the song. “For the rest of your life.”

Martin let Jon lead him, singing quietly along with the music as he did so. He was still barefoot and it was a bit cold on the widow’s walk for that, but he didn’t care. It was the song they’d chosen as their first dance at their wedding, something of a fast waltz, but the lyrics had struck both of them as being so very them. As soon as Martin realized that, he also realized that this was probably the tape Tim had made for them to play at their wedding. It had been their way of ensuring that Annabelle, if she was still listening, would be able to be a part of things, too.

They still made a point of shooing out spiders and cleaning out cobwebs, but the tapes? Those could stay.

When the first song was over, rather than let Jon go, Martin simply shifted his grip and took the lead for the second song on the tape—the first song they had ever danced to, in Tim and Present Martin and Present Jon’s kitchen the night they’d moved in. He pulled Jon closer, letting their foreheads touch, and sang along to that one as well. He could feel Jon shiver in his arms and knew, knew, it wasn’t the cold that was doing it.

They slowed to a stop just before the song ended. Jon slid his arms around Martin’s neck and simply held him; Martin wrapped his around Jon’s waist and pulled him even closer until their bodies were flush, until they were practically fused into a single person.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” Jon whispered back. “Happy anniversary, Martin.”

“Happy anniversary.” Martin leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly.

Jon kissed him back, deeply and intensely and with all the emotions they had built up between them over the years: loneliness and desperation and fear, love and tenderness and hope. They had fought their damnedest for a moment they thought would never come, and now that it had, Martin was going to savor it. This and every other moment that ever could be.

At last, the need for air forced them to separate, and Jon laughed quietly. “You know what I didn’t think through about this?”

“We’re still barefoot?” Martin guessed.

“We are still barefoot,” Jon agreed. “And I’m still rather…worn out from the day. What do you say we go inside, shut the cats in their room for the night, and make use of that oversized tub in the downstairs bath?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Martin said. He kissed Jon again, very softly, and then stepped back. “Lead on, Mr. Blackwood-Sims.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Blackwood-Sims,” Jon drawled. He stopped the tape with a gentle click, then laced his fingers through Martin’s, the metal of his wedding band smooth and cool against his fingers as it rolled over the webbing between them. “Come on, my love.”

Hand-in-hand, Martin and Jon, the man he’d loved for years, the man he’d fought for, fought with, the reason he had survived apocalypse after apocalypse, his anchor—his husband—turned away from the world they had somehow managed to save and into their home, into the future they had made.

Together.

[peachyteabuck]

come water me ☂

summary: after years of depending on science to give you a child, you think giving a magic a shot isn’t a half-bad idea (a commission for @myhoneybeeheart) 

pairing: steve rogers x thor odinson x reader (established steve rogers x reader)

words: 3,538

trigger warnings: infertility, MMF threesomes, creampies, praise kink, breeding kink, cuckolding, angst if you squint but like REALLY squint. REALLY REALLY squint. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

You and Steve had both done every test known to every male and female fertility specialist in the United States, along with several European countries, Japan, China, and Australia. Every single one, for each of you, pointed to the same thing – infertility.

Persistent infertility. As in, the both of you are not only infertile, but will continue to be infertile despite any type of treatments any type of doctor wants to put you through. Steve doesn’t qualify for experimental treatments, and you’ve tried at least five to no avail.

Long story short, neither of you can have biological children.

The problem is, you both really want biological children. But, according to biology, it just isn’t going to happen.

“Science says so,” the last doctor had told you, voice full of apology. “I’m so sorry.”

That particularly heartbreaking appointment was in the late afternoon, but the battery of tests meant you and your husband were stuck in the shitty doctor’s office until long past when the sun had set. You were grateful how dark it was when you left, terrified some Captain America stan or paparazzi would get a high definition picture of both you with puffy faces along with snot and stray tears still running down your face. It was late when you got back to your secluded high rise, neither of you hungry nor willing to feign it enough to order something. You didn’t know about Steve, but the sadness had somehow overwhelmed every single one of your senses – making your taste buds pointless and limbs numb. Silently, the both of you got ready for bed and held each other as emotional exhaustion acted as a second weighted blanket and lulled you both to sleep.

It was the next morning when you thought of what you had dubbed “the plan.” You had gotten up before Steve (unusual, as you’d been together long enough that wallowing in self pity was a shared activity) and sat at the kitchen table with unbrushed teeth, messy hair, and the sort of determination that comes with a self-reflexive ultimatum: if “the plan” didn’t work, you’d stop trying. You’d tell Steve that you’ve come to terms with your inability to conceive and continue your journey to start from the assumption that there was nothing either of you could do to make it happen. It’s a heartbreaking reality, but it was one you were willing to accept.

It took a few days to work up the courage, to find the right time to broach the idea with the man you chose to spend the rest of your life with. The perfect moment ended up being when you were both eating dinner, Steve telling a story about something ridiculous Peter had done on a mission (turns out, flirting with a fellow agent undercover as a full service sex worker is not a good idea). You were both happy, incredibly so, and you knew whenever your husband talked about the kid it ignited the special light inside of him that wanted to be a father.

It was the tail end of the story, he was two beers down (a special mix Tony had concocted that balanced with Steve’s serum-induced metabolism), and he was happy. So with a deep inhale and sustained eye contact, you rambled with your prepared speech that covered a few of concerns you knew Steve would have and informed him of your personal deal.

You finished quickly – words tumbling out of your mouth before you knew they were being spoken. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, blood rushed to your ears. You were terrified.

That was, until Steve gave his reply a few hours later.

(He asked if he could table the conversation for a little while, wanting to “think it over.” Of course you told him it was okay, especially since you knew there was dessert still waiting to be eaten in the fridge, and you were still very hungry.)

You imagined a lot of responses from your husband, the worst of which sounded like the beginning of a particularly sad Shonda Rhimes television show:

“You want to what?” Steve nearly screams. “You want to invite Thor Odinson in our marriage bed so that we can have a child!? No! I won’t allow it!”

You fall to the ground, sobbing, clutching your phone as you scream back. “I want what’s best for us! For our family! For our future child!”

Steve storms out of the bedroom, turning back to your crumbled figure just before stomping out. “I’m calling a divorce lawyer. I want you out by Monday.”

You expected you’d have to convince him, would have to coax his clenched jaw towards your face so he’d know how serious you are from the look in your eyes. Maybe you’d have to wait days, weeks, months before he’d agree, would have to have long conversations with him and his colleague about negotiations and boundaries and whatever else.  

What you didn’t expect was for Steve to agree not only immediately, but enthusiastically.

“T-that’s it?” you asked. You both were in bed, reading separate books before you’d each turn off the lights and go to sleep. He was reading something about battle tactics during Vietnam while you were thumbing through a book about the history of swearing.

Steve did not look up from his novel. “You want to have a threesome with Thor in the hopes it’ll give us a baby?”

You looked to him, brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

Now he puts the book down and turns to you. “The worst thing that happens is we have sex with a literal deity?”

At first you think he’s joking but, nope. He’s serious.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply again.

Steve shrugs before going back to his book. “Then yeah, but you have to call him.”

You blink a few times – shocked. Pleasantly shocked, but still shocked. “That’s…a deal. Yeah. I can, I’ll talk to him.”

Steve smiles, turning back to you once more and giving you a peck on the cheek. “Sounds good, babe. Let me know what he says.”

You nod, still a little surprised. “O-of course.”

With that, the conversation ends, and you need to figure out how to contact the man in question.

The next morning, you learn from the detailed calendar Tony’s assistant keeps that Thor’s on Migard for the rest of the month, doing…whatever. Honestly, you have no idea what he’s doing, and – even more honestly – you don’t care. Short of saving an entire population from destruction, you’re sure he can make time for you.

Luckily you find him easily, watching some reality show about weird white people in the living room of a common floor. You take deep breaths for stepping into eyeshot, asking if you can sit next to him (he says yes) before you start what is likely the most uncomfortable conversation of your life.

Somehow, though, Thor beats you to it. “If you want me to help you and Steve conceive, just tell me the date and time you want me in your bed.”

Even more so than when Steve accepted your recent proposal, you’re surprised by Thor’s forwardness. “Um-“

Thor smiles, putting a comforting arm around your shoulders before pulling you close against him. “Listen, I’ve done this with many families on many planets. I’ve never done it on Earth, but I’m willing to give it a try for you two. You deserve a child, and I’d be happy to help with that.”

You wipe a stray tear before allowing yourself to be enveloped into Thor’s massive arms. “Thank you,” you tell him after your heart had stopped beating at your ribs as if they were boxers going for the championship title. “Thank you so much.”

You feel Thor smile against the side of your head. “Of course, anything for you.”

You return to Steve with your findings, who agrees to set it up for the next night. The few hours before the mythical man is scheduled to arrive are an otherworldly combination, as if you had put giddy excitement, gut-wrenching fear, and determined optimism in a Nutribullet with bananas and strawberries and vanilla Greek yogurt and served it with-

“Honey, he said we both have to eat before,” Steve pulls the breaks on your train of thought, nudging your plate of food towards you with a small smile.  “I’ve known you for long enough to know what you overthinking and forgetting to eat looks like.”

You nod and sigh, biting into the seasoned steamed vegetables. “Sorry, I-“

Steve shakes his head, swallowing whatever from his plate he was chewing. “I’ve also known you long enough to not need you to explain. Just eat.”

He’s right, you think as you clear your plate. You’ve known Steve for over a decade, dating for nine of them and married for seven. He met you through Natasha, who knew you from your work as a professor studying the differing effects of veterans and civilians (how she found you is still a mystery) and invited you to a conference that Stark was funding and therefore required the Avengers to make an appearance. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him.

For the first time in a long time, you wonder whether that’s a good thing, or a bad one.

When Thor arrives, he directs the two of you with ease, accepting a glass of expensive red wine as he follows you to the expansive bedroom.

He makes you strip first, tells you to lay in the center of the bed with your legs spread over the end and arms at your side. Steve’s next, already half-hard as he takes his position by your head, on his knees so he can watch the show in front of you. He’s naked, erection hard against his chiseled stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him, blissed out before anything had ever begun.

He smiles down at you, same look in his eye the same day you got married. “You, too babe.”

Thor lets you have the moment as he undresses himself, letting you wrap a hand around Steve’s cock as he slots himself between your legs.

“Mm,” Thor hums, tracking your every move with a precise eye. “What a pretty cunt you have…”

A deep moan from you cuts him off as he kneels and licks a wide stripe up your dripping center, his large hands moving under your knees to bend your legs to your chest.

“Oh!” you cry, one of your hands moving to clutch his long blonde hair. “Oh that feels so good!”

You can feel Thor smiling into your folds as one of his perfectly calloused fingers slowly enters you, reveling in your now-mindless acceptance of pleasure. “So tight,” he moans. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

It doesn’t take long for your brain to fry, losing your ability to do anything but moan and sloppily jerk off your husband as Thor begins to fuck two fingers in and out of you at a bruising pace.

Steve watches you intensely, takes over jerking his own dick when you lose control of the muscles in your hands.

Thor scoffs, rolling his eyes you pout when his lips leave you.

“C’mon, love,” he murmurs into your inner thigh. “Don’t neglect the man.”

Nearly panting, you wrap your lips around Steve’s cock while Thor continues eating you out.

“Fuck you’re so good at this,” Steve hisses as you start to gag on him, running your tongue on the underside of his cock.

You do your best to smile as one hand moves to play with his balls, eyes screwing shut as you turn all your attention onto your husband’s cock.

“That feel good?” Thor asks, hand around the base of his cock. He grunts when Steve nods, his head thrown back in ecstasy. “C’mon, Stevie. Tell me how good your wife’s mouth feels on your dick.”

Steve swallows what little spit is left in his mouth before trying to remember how to speak. “It f-feels so good,” he’s breathless, chest straining as he tries not to come. “Wet and t-tight, the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

Thor grunts deep in his chest, as if he’s restraining himself. “Keeping going – and tell me when you’re about to cum.”

Steve moans when he hits the back of your throat, both hands now tangled in your hair. “F-feels so good, like she’s sucking the life out of me through my fucking dick- Oh fuck!”

You’re deep throating him now, breathing through your nose as you gag.

“T-Thor,” he moans, voice strained. “I-I think I’m-“

“Stop,” the man at the end of the bed commands as he continues fucking his fingers in and out of you. Reluctantly, you do as you’re told, ceasing all actions and giving Steve the most pitiful look you can muster.

“C’mere pretty girl,” Thor murmurs, leaving one last kiss at the most sensitive part of you. “It’s time for me to fuck you.”

You and Steve both moan deeply as he lifts himself to his feet and aligns himself with your center – hardened cock bobbing against his stomach. The sight is enough to make your center tighten, skin on fire as you wait for him to gift you reprieve.

“Such a perfect little pussy,” Thor mumbles to no one but himself, grinning wide as he enters you.

Little words are exchanged after that, Thor focusing on the feeling of your cunt instead of talking.

“Oh Thor-“ you moan, pulling away from Steve to throw your head back once more. “Oh shit holy-“

Thor just laughs, leaning down so he can kiss you. He places one hand next to your head for balance, the other moving to jerk Steve’s cock for you. His whole body works like a perfectly build machine, hips and hand working in tandem to get all three of you off. His movements are languid and purposeful, as if each muscle contraction and release was planned long, long ago in some expert fashion.

As Steve moans once again that he’s close, you remember what Thor had told you the day previous – that he had done this for other people attempting to build their families. In an instant, you were struck with the fear that this was somehow mechanical for him, something he was doing out of some sense of duty with half his brain focused on what he was going to have for dinner or what fruit was in season – something mundane and minutely distracting so he could phone it in and take the credit when the pregnancy test came back positive.  

Thor notices you’re drifting away, grabs you with one hand and coaxes your eyes to meet his. “Don’t worry about anything, baby,” he tells you, voice low in his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It’s comforting – you can’t describe why, don’t even understand why; but even if you could, Steve’s begging cuts your train of thought short.

“Fuck please,” his voice is high and desperate, anything left of his precious Captain America façade torn to shreds by the possibility of denial. “Please let me come!”

Thor just shakes his head and smiles, putting him through the same torture as he did before but continuing fucking you – ignoring Steve’s cries as he rubs at your clit.

“Ignore him, baby,” he murmurs to you, “C’mon, focus on how good it’s gonna feel when I make you come.”

That’s all it takes for you to lose yourself, to throw your head back and buck your hips up and scream as loud as your exhausted lung will allow. At the last second before you reach your peak Thor moves away from you to grab the back of Steve’s head, pulling the man into a deep kiss.

“Fuck,” Thor groans against Steve’s lips. “Fuck you’re both so gorgeous I’m, fuck, I’m gonna-“

Thor releases himself inside of you with a deafening shout, moaning into Steve’s mouth as his come spills out of you. You’re speechless, watching them kiss above you while you pant.

For a moment there’s silence – the thick scent of sex and the wet sounds of their mouths and your pussy being the only things that fill the air. The only thing that cuts through it is Thor’s gruff voice instructing Steve to take his place between your legs.

The shuffling is awkward but gives you a minute to breathe, the clouds in your brain clearing with a few seconds of being left alone. Unlike Steve, Thor lays next to you on his side, one hand framing your jaw as he kisses you deeply.

Steve takes a moment to admire Thor’s cum dripping out of your pussy, resisting the urge to kneel down and lay his tongue there and drink it all down.

He swallows what little spit is left in his mouth as he enters you, body trembling as his eyes roll to the back of his head. The feeling of your pussy – though familiar – is sublime; mixed with the feeling of Thor’s cum inside of you makes him want to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

He doesn’t, though, he somehow gets his brain and cock to reconnect so that he can fuck you despite his entire body screaming. You’re sensitive – if Steve couldn’t read your body language, your screaming moans and eyes screwed shut would tell him. It’s a precious thing to see you in such a feral state, to see you fucked out and desperate and begging to be pushed over the cliff again and again and again. You’re normally a very professional woman – always put together and well-spoken and knowledgeable in any subject necessary.  To see you incoherent, lost to the pleasure – it’s something special Steve is determined to remember for the rest of his days.

“Such a good boy,” Thor tells him when he notices Steve’s concentration fading. “You fuck your wife so well for me,” he turns to you, leaving a kiss at the corner of your panting mouth. “Doesn’t your husband fuck you so good?”

“Y-yes,” you reply after you take a second to process what he’s asking of you. “Steve’s so good at fucking a baby into me, makes me feel so good I, oh!”

Something in Steve snaps as he listens to Thor, elicits something primal that makes him dig his fingers into the pit of your pushed-up knees as he pounds into you without mercy.

“Gonna-“ Steve moans. “Gonna fuck our baby into you, gonna make sure everyone knows how good I fuck you, fuck!”

Thor just smiles all big and toothy, looking between your face and Steve’s. Just as confident as before, he trails the same hand as before between your breasts and down your stomach, rubbing at your sensitive nub once more.

“You can do it, baby,” he whispers to you, coaxing another orgasm out of you with skilled fingers. “You’re so beautiful, I want to watch you come again. You can do that, right? You can come again for me?”

You shake your head, too overwhelmed to form coherent sentences. “I, I- “

“Shh,” he trails his thumb – still soaked with your slick and his precum – “It’s okay, my little dove. You can do it once more for me and Steve. C’mon, you can do it with him, right?”

You don’t speak, don’t move, don’t do anything – too focused on the feeling of Thor next to you and Steve on top of you and Thor rubbing at your clit and Steve fucking your pussy and the warmed sheets between your fingers and the sweat pooling between your breasts and-

“Fuck!” Steve’s screams mirror your own internal monologue. “Fuck I’m-“

Thor uses the thumb that was just under your lip to grab Steve’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet just as he had done many times before. “Come for me.”

You and Steve’s orgasms come at the same time, the both of you twitching as you fall slowly, deliriously, from the shared delicious high.

When the French coined folie a duex, you’d always assumed it was about some madness that happened to manifest in two people. But what is defined as “madness?” Could it be the sweet satisfaction that flows through each of your veins like gold? Could it be the vacant contentment behind Steve’s eyes? Could it be the vacant content behind yours?

Somehow, Thor maneuvers the two of you so that all three of you can lay there, out of breath and sweaty all over as each of you stares at separate spots on the ceiling.

You’re the one to break the silence, stuck between the two men in the center of the large bed. “Do you think it worked?”

Steve turns towards you, leaning on one arm while the other spreads itself over your stomach. “I think so.”

Thor turns over next, mirroring Steve’s position. Free hand, though, goes to cup your face, pulling you in for a quick peck on the lips before guiding you to Steve for a much deeper kiss.

“I think so, too,” the large man says eventually, watching as you and Steve remain locked together. He doesn’t think either of you can hear him, but he smiles at the softness on both of your faces nonetheless.

[noctualilith]

What Friends Are For

This was a gift for the lovely @bkfstclubmember as a part of Hazelnoots Discord Server’s Secret Santa 2020! She listed a few wishes and one of them was Leo&Remus friendship, which my muse practically jumped at! The story works as a stand-alone, but is also a continuation of the LoganLoveLetter collab and would be happening a few days after Never Get Enough Of You if you want to read the story of the love letter mentioned ;)

My Santa hat is off to @jacklighting for running the magical place that is the SW/C2C Discord server and for organizing this Secret Santa exchange!

The Sweater Weather / Coast To Coast universe and beloved characters in this fic belong to @lumosinlove !

Merry and happy to all you wonderful people <3

“So, how are you doing, really?” Remus’ voice pulled him out of his thoughts and his hand that was absentmindedly stirring his coffee jerked in surprise, splashing droplets across the table. Leo looked up sheepishly, reaching for a napkin to wipe them away before they dried into an abstract painting on the wooden surface, giving himself a second to gather his feelings and try to put them into words. 

He texted Remus way too early that morning, Hey Loops, up for a breakfast later? and got a reply not ten minutes later. Sure! Come to ours? Sirius will be out in an hour. 

He had woken up before dawn and couldn’t fall back asleep, his thoughts circling and spiraling in on themselves, causing a phantom itch right under his skin that he couldn’t shake off on his own. Normally he’d talk to them about it, his two, currently tangled together under the blankets, Logan burrowed between them, head barely visible and Finn’s arm thrown across both of them, fingers pressing lightly into Leo’s ribs as if making sure he was still there, even in sleep. But this was about them and he didn’t know where to start. His eyes burned as he blinked against the dim light of the sunrise trickling through the curtains.

He loved them so much. He’d do anything to keep them. And still a part of him had been waiting for the day when they’d tell him they didn’t want him anymore, dreading it with a panic bordering on vertigo. He had watched them become more open and trusting with each other, their connection growing stronger and deeper with time, ever since that first time he had noticed there even was a connection, at that damn restaurant in Boston. 

Their missing piece, they’d call him. But what if they weren’t missing a piece anymore? Something had changed over the weekend while he was gone, a subtle shift in their energy that made all the difference and he didn’t understand where his place was now. He needed an outside perspective. He needed a friend. 

Taking a sip of his coffee bought him a couple more seconds, but Remus’ question hung in the air and Leo was wildly grateful for his friendship all of a sudden, of his kind but firm no-bullshit approach and his patience. How was he really feeling?

He took a slow breath and then let it out in a whoosh of air. “I don’t really… I mean, everything is fine?” He winced when he heard the question in his own voice. “Everything is fine. I don’t know what has me so on edge. It’s just a-- a hunch. A feeling.” 

Leo felt his hands dance across the tabletop in agitation, betraying the inner turmoil that he hadn’t quite managed to hide from his voice and even less from his body language. Remus leaned forward in his seat, raising one eyebrow and flicking his eyes down to Leo’s traitorous hands and then back up again, waiting him out silently. 

Leo sighed and closed his eyes. It’s been amazing, having Remus’ friendship and confidentiality, being able to talk to someone about their very specific, shared set of circumstances, but sometimes his no-bullshit radar was bordering on scary; especially when it was forcing him to confront uncomfortable feelings that he didn’t really want to unpack. That is why you’re here, Leo reminded himself. 

He needed someone outside of his bubble to tell him it was nothing, just his paranoia, his insecurity causing him to see problems where there were none. The trouble was, he knew his instincts were right more often than not and the rare few times he got lost in his own head, he got untangled quickly, helped by reassurance from Finn and Logan. 

Finn and Logan. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had changed. He left on a rainy Thursday afternoon and came back on equally dreary Monday, tired but glad he made the trip and even more glad to be home with his boys again.They had been texting and facetiming every day but he had spent the whole Friday at his cousin’s wedding, surrounded by his extended family and not being able to check his phone all that often. 

Saturday morning was for catching up on sleep and a late brunch with his parents so he only got to call them in the evening, finding them bright-eyed and happy, missing him but keeping themselves entertained and-- they had talked, Logan told him proudly. About their history, about their time at Harvard. Not all of it, but a start, a very good one by the sound of it. 

Actually, Finn jumped in, Lo wrote me a love letter. Can you believe it? It was amazing. I keep re-reading it. Logan turned to stare at him then, You do? Finn just nodded, laughing as Logan blushed and then tried to smother him with kisses. Leo felt the familiar rush of affection for the two boys, his two, but underneath it he could taste the bitter tang of doubt creeping in. The unwelcome feeling that he hoped he had banished for good when it came to the three of them. 

We forgave each other, they told him and he could only smile and tell them how proud he’s of them, that it must have been hard but he could tell they were lighter now, better for it. We love you, Peanut, they said, faces pressed close to the screen, jostling each other and laughing. His heart thudded painfully in his chest when he nodded in response, I miss you both so much. 

“What is bothering you then?” Remus asked him gently, pulling the now empty mug of coffee from his hand. His hands unoccupied, his fingers immediately started plucking on the threads at the fraying hem of his sweatshirt. Finn’s sweatshirt. They both kept stealing his, and he would sometimes pull on one of Logan’s bigger hoodies when they were staying in, but he’d only leave the house in Finn’s or his own clothes, the exception being Logan’s snapbacks that they both took to sharing all the time now. 

They were so intertwined, the three of them; he loved it and he was scared to death of losing it. He wasn’t ready to voice that frightening thought yet, but there were others that he needed to say outloud, if only for Remus to tell him that he was being stupid and there was nothing to worry about. 

“I feel like-- like I’m intruding? It feels like something has changed, like they are somehow even closer now and I wasn’t there for it and now I feel--” Leo closed his eyes and thought back to the first evening after he got back. Logan’s calm joy where there usually was a low current of agitation running through him at any moment, not allowing him to stay still for too long. The almost reverent way Finn was around Logan, constantly pulled into his orbit, unwilling to leave his side and radiating a quiet happiness. Their hands linking every chance they got, basking in this new chord they had added to their harmony and somehow seemingly unaware they were doing it. 

“It feels like I don’t have the right to join in. Like I’m one step behind. It feels so private and I can’t stand to be in the middle of it but it’s driving me crazy to be on the outside, too.” 

Remus hummed and leaned forward, elbows on the table and his fingers steepled under his chin, regarding him thoughtfully and mulling the information over before speaking in a soft voice that Leo grasped at like a liferaft. 

“It sounds like they started to heal some old wounds between the two of them and it also sounds like they would be willing and happy to tell you about it. Though they probably aren’t even aware of how you’re feeling right now. I’d expect them to still be caught up in the emotions of the breakthrough, because it seems to be a heavy topic for them from what you’ve told me, but it is affecting you a lot, too.” 

Remus waited for him to take in his words and Leo nodded, wanting him to continue. 

“What would you need to feel included again?”

Leo let himself think, as he turned his head to the side and stared at the sunbeams breaking through the windowpane and hitting the crystal prism placed on the windowsill in a burst of rainbow reflections dancing across the wall. He felt inwards for the answer and when he stumbled upon it, it rushed out unbidden. Things he had pushed down for later, for maybe even never because they weren’t his to ask for; now they burst forth and he welcomed the flood. 

“I’m not sure, but-- They have this history with each other that I can’t catch up to no matter what I’d do. It just is. I just-- I don’t quite understand it, I think. And it feels so hugely important, it is important to them, but they both weren’t even able to talk about it until now, so I don’t--” Leo sucked in a breath and looked to Remus who was nodding at him encouragingly. 

He still felt like he was grasping at vague shapes in a dark room and having no idea where the door was, but letting it all out might also let some light in, so he barrelled on.

“I don’t really know much about what happened between them back then. Bare bones, yes, but not really enough to be able to understand, or-- help, I guess? They would get this wounded look whenever the topic came up. Logan straight up wouldn’t speak about it and Finn had only told me bits and pieces. Said they weren’t ready to fully talk about it yet. God, Finn would tear up if any of us mentioned his first year with the Lions, after he got drafted. Logan would just clam up and go radio silent, disappear for a few hours.” 

Leo shook his head and pulled the sleeves over his hands, trapping the edges in his fists and then wrapping his arms around himself, the fabric of the slightly too small hoodie stretching over his back and shoulders. It almost felt like a hug, he could still smell Finn’s scent on it when he turned his head and pressed his nose against his shoulder, breathing deeply. “I kinda gathered that it’s better not to ask,” he mumbled into the soft fabric. 

Remus stayed silent, letting him finish his thought, but Leo couldn’t bring himself to speak the words that have been bouncing around his head for the past few days. He was irrationally afraid that they’d become real when he spoke them and the threat, however irrational, brought tears into his eyes. 

“Leo, it’s okay.” Remus rounded the table and pulled out the chair next to him, settling down on it and placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, his eyes earnest and attentive. “That is a tough situation to be in. The way you’re feeling makes total sense in the light of everything you told me so far. So - what would you need from them now?”

Leo swallowed against the apprehension climbing up his throat and stated firmly “I want them to talk to me about it. I want to know more of what had happened between them before we met, at least the parts they’re comfortable telling me. And now they might be ready to tell me more, but I’m scared it has already changed things between us. And-- and I don’t want anything to change! What if they realize they don’t need me anymore? What if--” he trailed off with a gasp, gulping for air and searching Remus’ face, silently imploring him to tell him it’s all just in his head. To give him a solution to stop the rapidly spinning worries in his head. 

Remus squeezed his shoulder in encouragement, and then pulled him into a hug, letting Leo catch his breath and digest the words that were now in the room, fears named and spoken and challenged. Leo thought it would make it worse, saying them outloud, but as they both pulled away from the hug and settled in their chairs again, he had to admit he felt a bit lighter already. 

“It’s perfectly normal to be afraid of change, you know,” Remus said as he reached for their empty mugs and tilted his head in question. Leo nodded and watched him pour them more coffee and drop two sugar cubes into his. “Thanks,” Leo smiled up at him, the gratitude encompassing much more than the coffee. 

“Anytime,” came the answer in kind from Remus who was cradling his own mug in both hands and regarding him over the rim. “The way I see it, it sounds like they’ve had this shared experience that you weren’t a part of and they don’t quite realize how it’s making you feel. But you’re an essential part of their present and their future. Everyone who knows you guys can see it. You should see them when they talk about you, Leo, they both love you so much. Give them a chance to include you and maybe tell them what you told me? They won’t know what you’re worried about if you don’t tell them.” 

Leo groaned, hiding in his hands and then rubbing them across his face. “It sounds so easy when you say it like that. It sounds like something I’d say to them when they argue about stupid shit. Merde. You’re right. I just have to trust them.” He looked up at Remus, letting out a heavy sigh and feeling the resolve settle in his chest. “I do trust them. I’ll talk to them. Thanks, Loops. For the coffee and for the talk. I needed this.” 

“Anytime, Nut. ‘s what friends are for.” Remus’ tone was warm and honest.

Leo was grateful, more than he could say. He felt relieved and clear-headed, the fog of the past few days finally retreating enough to let him think without immediately spiralling out of control. He also felt brave; for talking about it and for deciding to trust the relationship they’ve built and the reassurances he realized Finn and Logan readily offered him anytime he voiced even the slightest doubt. Yes, things might have changed but that could be a good thing. It seemed to be good for Finn and Logan, and now he couldn’t wait to be with them again and find out how he fit into their new harmony. They would figure it out, together. 

The gratitude in his chest made him say it again, “Really, Remus, I mean it. Thank you. How do you always know what to say?” 

Remus burst out laughing at that, and Leo felt his own lips stretch into a smile, welcoming the change of the atmosphere, the heavy topics temporarily put aside. 

“I’ve been accused of that several times already. Seems to be a talent of mine,” Remus’ smile was audible in his voice. 

“Well, I’m glad, Loops.” Leo grinned and settled on his chair more comfortably, dragging his second cup of coffee closer and noticing the rumble in his stomach making itself known, now that the anxiety wasn’t tying it into knots. 

“Now, what about that breakfast?”

[spencerreidscoffeecup]

Chapter 13 | Angels, Demons

CW: talk of ab*se (from father), death of family members, talk of self-harm (c*tting), crying, cursing, talk of ED (anorexia), r*pe, just very emotional things :)

Reader's POV:

Three weeks.

It had been three glorious weeks of Spencer and I dating.

It was true magic; it was the happiest I've felt.. Ever.

Every moment with him made up for the past darkness that seemed to consume me throughout the years. He danced with my angels and quieted my demons.

Throughout the weeks, the BAU had zero cases; only paperwork, so Spencer and I would have little dates when we got home. We watched old russian movies while cuddled up on the couch together, went to old libraries that were filled row-by-row with different books and literature pieces. We kissed behind bookcases and shelves, giggling at our almost teen-like romance. We also snuck secret kisses during work, not wanting to tell the team quite yet.

It was perfect.

Although our secret adventures were fun behind closed doors, we decided to tell the team that we were dating; but we didn't want to outright say it-no- rather we would walk hand-in-hand into the BAU bullpen letting people find out for themselves.

And that is exactly what we did this morning.

"Are you sure you want to tell people? We can wait if you aren't ready.." Spencer asked hesitantly, cupping my cheeks gently with his hands in the elevator ride up to the bullpen.

"I am if you are." I replied, kissing him gently, my lips tingling from his soft touch.

"Oh, I'm definitely ready. I want everyone to see how perfect my girlfriend is." he said, smiling softly, a small blush forming over his face.

I giggled softly, kissing him again.

Spencer asked me to be his girlfriend a few nights ago.. Although it was accidental as we were discussing if we wanted to make our relationship official or not.

Call it kid-ish, but we wanted to move a little slower, especially after everything that has happened.

Spencer and I were reading one night, my head on his chest as I listened to the soft sounds of his voice, lulling me into complete relaxation. As I was just about to fall into my slumber, Spencer asked a very important question.

(flashback)

"Angel?" he asked, looking down at me and tucking some hair behind my ears.

I lifted my head up from his chest to look at him, "Mhm?" I hummed, lifting my hand up to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with stubble gently.

"W-would you want to tell the team about us soon? Like make the relationship, uh, official?" he asked nervously, averting his eyes away from mine as if I was going to lash out on him for asking such a question.

A smile inched over my lips, heat creeping up my neck, "Spence, I would love to.. When would you like to do it?" I asked, and he lifted his head up, his face a light pink.

"Really? Okay, i-is Monday okay to do it? It's okay if not, I just really am excited to show the team my girlfriend."

His eyes widened at his words, his face going from a light pink to a red.

My heart fluttered, butterflies swarming my body.

"Girlfriend?" I whispered, an even bigger smile taking over my face.

"I-uh, I-if that's what you- y'know- want.. We can wait- I didn't mean-"

His blabbering was cut short by my lips on his in a sweet, loving kiss.

"Of course I want that, Spencer. I would love to be your girlfriend." I said, pulling away slightly from his lips.

A big smile overtook his God-like features, and he flipped me around on the bed as I squealed excitedly, giggling into the many kisses he laid upon my mouth and neck.

After a moment, we both calmed down, "Monday is perfect, Spence." I whispered, and he kissed me more passionately now, his lips tasting of sugar and candy- something that we had earlier on that night.

(end flashback)

So yes, I was now Doctor Spencer Reid's girlfriend, and I could not be more happy about it.

Our kissing was cut short as the elevators opened, and we each took a deep breath holding onto one another's hands.

As we pushed our way through the BAU doors, the team looked up at us.

They looked at our inter-woven hands, then to our faces that no doubt withheld blushes.

"HA! I knew it! Everyone, you owe me fifty bucks!" JJ's voice boomed through the bullpen, and the rest of the team laughed loudly, groaning.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked, chuckling nervously.

"We each placed a bet on how long it would be for you and pretty girl over there to admit you have feelings for each other... and JJ won. I was off by one week." Derek explained, laughing.

"You put a bet on us?" Spencer squeaked, and I giggled at his change in octaves.

"Reid, we had to!" Emily said, handing JJ over her money. "We all knew you both loved one another, but we all betted on when you two would finally get together in a relationship!"

"Did I hear the word 'relationship'?" Penelope said as she waltzed into the room, a big smile plastered across her face. She looked at us and began squealing uncontrollably, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands together as a child would if their mother said that they were allowed ice cream after dinner. "Oh. Em. GEE!!" She hopped over to us, pulling us in to her earth-shattering hugs. "Oh-oh! I knew it! I knew it, I was three weeks off!! DANG! OH but I am so so happy for you two! Oh, and you guys can make little genius babies and oh- I can plan the wedding!-"

"Oh- kay! I think that we should allow Y/n and Spencer to take it slower than that, babygirl." Derek laughed, pulling Garcia away from us as Spence and I both giggled.

"I was four days off!" Rossi exclaimed, handing JJ her money, shaking his head. "But I'm very happy for you, i miei uccellini amorosi!"

"Rossi, no one understands your italian." Emily said, handing JJ her cash.

"It means 'my little love-birds.'" Spencer stated, blushing.

"Well of course boy-genius does." murmured Emily, laughing softly.

"Hey, you guys should probably go tell Hotch!" JJ said, counting her money.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," I said, turning to Spencer. "Do you want to tell him today?"

Spencer moved his hand from my grasp putting it on my cheek, "Only if you want to." he said quietly.

"I'm ready." I said, and Spencer nodded, then pulled me in for a quick kiss as we walked to Hotch's office.

"Ew! No PDA!" Derek laughed and Penelope hit him on the shoulder with a loving smile returning back to her face as she looked at Spence and I.

Spencer and I each rolled our eyes and knocked on Hotch's door.

"Come in."

Nerves tingled throughout my body, and Spencer squeezed my hand in reassurance. I smiled up at him, and opened the door to Hotch's office.

"Uhm, Hotch.. Can we talk to you for a second?" I asked nervously.

"Of course." He said, looking up from his paperwork.

Spencer and I each sat down in front of him, and Spencer cleared his throat.

"Hotch, we wanted to tell you that-"

"You both are in a relationship with one another?" Hotch interrupted, a small smile etched on his solemn face.

"How did you-?" I asked, confused.

"I am the lead profiler here.. And it was just obvious." he chuckled, and Spencer and I both laughed out of relief. "I just need you to know that this can not affect your work on the team."

Spencer and I nodded, "Yes sir, it won't." I assured as Spencer hummed in agreement.

"Good. Here, I am obligated to have you sign this." Hotch said, pulling out a piece of paper that was basically the 'Terms and Conditions' of having a relationship with this sort of job.

Spencer and I both signed the paper and Hotch did a quick once-over.

"Okay, well I am very happy for you both, but now I have fifty dollars to give to JJ." he said, smiling softly.

"You were in on the bet too?" I asked, laughing softly.

"Sure was.. I was two days off." he stated, putting the signed papers on the right side of his desk. "Now, both of you get out there; we have paperwork again today."

Spencer and I both nodded, and walked out of Hotch's door, sighing a big sigh of relief.

"Thank God that went way better than I expected." I said, turning to Spencer.

Spencer hummed in agreement, pulling me in for another kiss, and I giggled against his lips. We parted ways, each getting started on our paperwork sitting on our desks.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Throughout the day, Spence and I would share stolen glances, kisses between breaks, all the romantic mushy stuff.

The day felt as though it went on forever, so I was very happy when leaving time came.

"Hey, I was wondering if you're free tonight? I-I have a date planned for us." Spencer stuttered, picking up his satchel as I collected my things.

"Yeah! I have nothing going on. Whatcha got planned?" I asked, a soft smile etched on my face, butterflies fluttering around in my belly.

"You'll just have to see." he replied cheekily.

"Are we breaking into another museum?"

"Nope." he laughed pulling my hand as we walked to the elevators waving to everybody in the bullpen.

"Have fun love-birds, but not too much fun!" Derek yelled after us, and I rolled my eyes laughing.

The elevator doors closed, leaving Spencer and I alone. There was brief silence, until Spencer pushed me up against the railing, kissing me passionately. I groaned in his mouth softly, our tongues massaging against one another, fighting for dominance.

As quickly as the kiss begun, it ended, the elevator dinging and Spencer unlatching himself from me, grabbing my hand and walking out of the building with me, my heart beating out of my chest; butterflies now attacking my stomach and chest, as he rose up my neck to my face, my breathing erratic.

"What was that for?" I asked after a few moments, laughing breathily.

Spencer turned to me, cupping face gently with his hands.

"I don't know, I just really wanted to kiss you." he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "C'mon we gotta get ready for the date."

Spencer opened the car door for me, and I got in, leaving a quick kiss on his lips, a blush now rising on his cheeks, his persona completely different than it was in the elevator.

Spencer turned on the car's ignition, and drove us back to my apartment, his hand on my thigh.

Wow.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

9:45 PM at Y/n's Apartment:

"Hey love, you ready?" Spencer called from the living room as I finished up my makeup.

"Yeah, just give me one sec!" I called back, checking my outfit in the mirror.

I decided on wearing something cute and comfortable; I wore baggy bootleg jeans, a rose mesh top with a little bow in the middle where it dipped down a bit to expose some cleavage, a green baggy cardigan that was knitted, and some white slightly chunky- sneakers. The necklace Spencer had given me a while back resting on my collarbones, my hair down from being clipped up all day.

I looked good.

I walked out to the living room, Spencer in a green sweater and tan slacks, a golden chain-necklace making his golden eyes seem even more golden.

"W-wow." he stuttered, looking at me with widened eyes. "You look- wow- you look beautiful."

"Thanks, Spence. You look amazing." I giggled walking over to him to kiss his soft lips. He pulled back, examining my face with adoration, smiling softly.

"I'm so lucky." he whispered, kissing my nose, then grabbing my hand. My heart fluttered at his admittance. I never have felt more loved. I smile up at him, and he bends down to kiss my lips one more time before we exit my apartment, getting into the elevator.

He hits the 'Rooftop' button and I look at him confusedly. We walk off the elevator, and I gasp softly, looking at the date Spencer planned.

An array of pillows and blankets lie on the floor, candles in candle-holders, lighting up the area along with fairy lights. There's soft classical music coming from a small speaker, and a book of poems by Edgar Allen Poe.

"Spence, you did this all for us?" I ask, an overwhelming amount of emotion coursing through my veins.

"I did it all for you." he says softly, cupping my cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb over my cheekbone. Tears prick my eyes, and a few fall down my cheek, but he brushes them away with his thumbs, kissing me gently.

"I don't deserve all of this." I say, my voice crackling a bit.

"You deserve everything good in the world, Y/n." he whispers, kissing my lips again. "I lov- I-I mean, love spending time with you, Y/n. You mean the world to me."

"You mean the world to me too, Spence." I whisper back, running my hands through his hair.

_____________________________________________________

The rest of the date was filled with stargazing, Spencer reading 'Annabelle Lee' to me from the Edgar Allen Poe book; letting me cuddle up next to him as we exchanged small kisses.

Each kiss that he placed upon my lips made me fall in deeper love with him.. If that was even possible. I couldn't stop thinking about how much he meant to me, how much he deserves someone better than me.. Someone that was less broken. But I heard what he was going to say.. I knew that he was going to say that he loved me, I just knew it. I knew it because that was exactly what I was thinking the night at the museum- that's what I have been thinking the whole time since I've known him.

Still, I would wait until we were both ready to say those words.. I knew I was.. But I didn't know how he was with it quite yet.

All I knew was that I trusted him more than I had ever trusted anyone before. I knew that he had seen me in my darkest hours, therefore I was ready to talk to him more about the hardships I had faced throughout my life.

We had been in a content-full silence for a few moments, so I decided to spill my guts to him.. About everything.

So I did.

"Spence?"

"Yeah, angel?" he asked softly, pulling away from our kiss.

"I want to talk to you about my father- and my mother." I said, anxiety building in my gut.

I had never told anyone about my mother or father really- the only person knowing about the general details being Hotch.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." he said, sitting up from his lying down-position to look at me more clearly. "But if you would like to, I am here to listen, okay?"

I nodded, a grateful soft smile on my lips.

"My father.." I took a deep breath, and Spencer held my hand gently. "My father was an abuser. He was a raging alcoholic and hit me constantly. I would come home from school hoping he wasn't drunk- but he always was. He'd hit me, beating me to the ground and then smash his beer bottle on my head. I'm not exactly sure when the first time he hit me was, but all I know was that I was terrified of him. Around the age of six, he began sneaking into my room at night and-," I choked on a sob, the memories still haunting my brain to this day.

"Take your time." Spencer said, his voice crackling softly.

I nodded and continued on; "he-he would touch me and by the time I was eight years old, I had been raped three times by him. He said that if I ever told anyone, he'd kill me, so I never did. I couldn't go to my mother because she was very sick. I started to cut myself to relieve the continous pain that was my every day life... My mother was the only thing that kept me from taking my own life. I honestly had no idea how someone as kind and caring as my mother could be with someone so monstrous as my father. She was too sick to do anything about it, so I just took whatever my father gave me.. Unable to do anything else. After my mother died and my father was made to look after me, he began hitting me even more, and I had been raped eleven times by the time I was seventeen. One day, I decided I had had enough and left in the middle of the night.. It took a lot of courage, but at that point, I decided that if he caught me and just killed me, it'd be better than staying alive another day. Luckily, he had been drinking a lot the day before, so I was able to sneak out. I took his money, and bought myself an apartment three hours from where we lived. I was only eighteen at the time and so I immediately was stressed out with how I was going to pay my bills and taxes. So I got six part-time jobs. I did online school. I finished the courses extremely quick, graduating at twenty and heading to the BAU by the time I was twenty-two. My eating disorder started when I was a teen. I began just eating water and celery every day until I just gave up on eating entirely, resorting to just drinking water and eating half a stick of sugar-free gum. I restricted my eating not only because I hated how I looked, but also because I felt that my ED and cutting were the only two things that I could control in my life. Recently, the depression hit me harder than ever, and I stopped eating again... I-I'm sorry I know that this date wasn't about this but I really wanted to tell you about everything-"

Spencer pulled me into a soft kiss, and I realize then, that he had been crying with me, our salty tears causing the kiss to be even sweeter.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, but don't apologize. Talk to me whenever you need to, okay angel?" he whispered softly, placing his forehead on mine.

I nodded.

"You are so strong, and what that man did to you is not your fault. You are the most amazing person that I have ever met in the whole world. You make me stronger every day." he sniffled.

It was silent for a few seconds.

Fuck it.

"Spencer?"

"Mhm?" he hummed.

I took a deep breath.

"I-I love you."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: AYO! y/n says she loves spencer :0 !!

NEXT CHAPTER HAS SMUT (maybe ?? 😏)

i may post it this weekend bc i hate cliffhangers lmao

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!

[songsformonkeys]

A Sturdy Home (dave york x reader)

summary: Waking up with Dave, on a nice and lazy Sunday morning. 

word count: ~2000

rating: explicit

warnings: if you’re looking for bastard!Dave, this story isn’t for you. 

notes: Thanks to my lovely friend @yespolkadotkitty​ for beta and for continuing to enable this weird and sudden obsession with Dave York <3

And also, since I’m clearly not getting over this anytime soon, if there’s anything Dave related you want written, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.

Link to AO3

A Sturdy Home

You wake up with the familiar weight of another body sleeping next to, and half on top of, you and you smile to yourself even before you open your eyes.

Dave had been out late last night, hanging out with his old army buddies. He'd warned you that he was probably gonna be late but you had still hoped that he'd make it home before you fell asleep, and so you had stayed up later than usual after you'd put the girls to bed. But after you'd dozed off on the couch for the third time, you'd been forced to admit defeat and crawl into the big bed all by yourself.

You must have been dead tired too, because you hadn't even noticed when he came home. Usually, the movement next to you on the mattress, as Dave joined you after a late night, was enough to wake you up just long enough for you to roll into your husband's embrace and to give him a welcome home kiss, before falling asleep again. Not last night, apparently. You hope that Dave hasn't read anything personal into it. Although, considering the tender way his arm is currently wrapped around your waist, you don't think he has.

Dave has had a lot of late nights lately. You're used to his weird work hours by now, but it does bother you how tired he's seemed these past couple of weeks. Last Monday, he'd been almost an hour late picking the girls up from school. He hadn't told you. In fact, he'd tried getting the girls to keep it a secret from you, but had clearly forgotten that your oldest couldn't keep a secret to save her life, and she'd snitched on him later that same day. He's also fallen asleep on the couch two nights in a row, even though that never happens and he's usually the one that has to guide your barely conscious self to bed in the evenings.

You don't know what it is that has gotten him so tired. Dave doesn't like to talk much about his job. Says he does that enough during work hours and that when he's home he doesn't want to bring his office with him. You don't pressure him to talk. You know the gist of what he does at the office and if he doesn't want to discuss all the details, then that is fine with you. Besides, you know that it's a fight you'll never win. Dave can be incredibly stubborn when he wants to. It's one of his more infuriating qualities. Alice is the only one who can give him a run for his money, in this house.

Cracking an eye open, you lift your head slightly to look down at his sleeping form. The sun is just high enough in the sky for the first rays of sunlight to shine through your thin curtains and caress the skin of Dave's back. His hair is sticking up at odd angles. He needs a haircut, you think, and fail to suppress the urge to run your fingers through the soft brown curls.

Dave makes a humming noise and tightens his hold just a little. You're torn between wanting to wake him up and letting him sleep. Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you think there's maybe an hour or so before the kids will begin to stir. They always sleep a little later on the weekends.

You're saved from the moral dilemma of whether or not to wake your husband when he makes another humming noise before turning his head to suppress a yawn against your skin. He grunts slightly, as if the act of waking up wasn't entirely voluntary.

Then, it's as if he notices you in his arms and he stills. You let him know that you're awake by running your fingers down his back, between his shoulder blades, and then back up again. You can see the way goosebumps form on his arm and he turns his head a little to press a soft kiss just below your collarbone. Anticipation unfurls in your chest like a cat waking up from a nap in the sun.

You continue stroking Dave's back as he shifts lower. When he kisses your nipple, your breath hitch for a fraction of a second, and the muscles between your legs clench of their own accord. He kisses the nipple again before wrapping his lips around it, sucking. It feels impossibly good and as his tongue laps lazily over the hard nub, it gives you goosebumps too and your skin suddenly feels two sizes too small.

Dave lifts himself up on one arm and leans across your torso to give the other nipple the same attention as the first. His movements are slow and relaxed but you can tell that anticipation of more is building for him too as his hips press a little closer to you and you feel him harden against your thigh.

”Dave,” you whisper, voice a little hoarse from either sleep or arousal, you can't quite tell. Dave lifts his head to look at you. ”C'mere,” you murmur and reach for his face. He goes willingly. Your nipples feel cold now that his mouth is no longer on them, but as his lips slant over yours, you decide that it's a trade you're more than happy to make.

You make out for a couple of minutes, taking the time to just kiss each other. There's nothing new to discover here but the familiarity of your tastes and movements feel safe, and damn if that isn't as much of a turn on as those wild and unpredictable nights had been when you were younger. You love this man with all your heart. Your husband. The father of your children. 

And when you're in his arms like this, it feels like coming home.

”How long've we got?” Dave's voice rasps when he breaks the kiss.

”Hopefully long enough,” you reply and you feel Dave smile against your lips as he rolls you both over on your sides. He reaches down to hook his fingers around the waistband of your pajama shorts to help pull them down and off before he does the same to his own underwear, all while still attempting to kiss you. He then grabs your leg and lifts it up to rest it over his hip.  

The act brings your bodies closer together and you begin undulating your hips, rocking slowly against him. The first drag of your folds along his shaft makes you both gasp into each other's mouths, closely followed by a shared chuckle at how the pleasure of the movement had managed to catch you both by surprise, despite the two of you having done this a million times before. Then the next roll of your hips has the head of Dave's cock catch slightly against the edge of your entrance and you forget all about laughing. Dave feels it too and his grip on you tightens briefly before he reaches down over your thigh to position himself so that, with the next roll of your hips, he sinks into you.

Your mouth stills against his as you feel him fill you up and his hand is gripping your ass, holding you still against him and giving you a few extra seconds to adjust before he starts rocking his hips. His movements are torturously slow and you feel every inch of him as he pulls almost all the way out before pushing inside again. Your breath is hitching so much that it almost sounds like you're crying.

Dave cradles the back of your head and carefully rolls you over onto your back. You immediately hook your other leg around his waist and on his next thrust he hits a whole new spot and you can't hold back a loud moan.

”Shh,” Dave admonishes you, but there's a teasing glint in his eyes and a smug smile on his lips. As payback, you pull his face close to whisper in his ear.

”Fuck me, Dave...baby, please...” you beg him and his hips stutter in their movements. Now it's your turn to smirk and for good measure, you bite down lightly on the soft skin just below his jaw.

Dave's thrusts speed up and you reach above you with one hand to brace yourself against the headboard while the other one grip his strong back. You feel the muscles flex under your fingertips as he slams into you. Like so many times before, you're suddenly very grateful that you invested in a sturdy bed.

Dave is relentlessly hitting the same spot within you and you have to bite your lower lip hard to stay quiet. Dave buries his face against your neck to do the same. Heat pools low in your stomach and you feel yourself clench around him. He bites your neck and you have to slap his back because damn that's an unfair move. You hear him laugh against your skin and he slows down his thrusts to reach down between you to rub your clit. He barely has to work you for a minute before you come so hard you're seeing stars. He's still slowly rocking his cock in and out of you and watching you with a raised eyebrow.

”Oh fuck you, it's been awhile, okay?” you laugh and he leans down to kiss you.

”Yeah, about that...I'll try and be home more the week after next okay? Just got this thing I gotta finish up.”

You nod before glancing down to where your bodies are still joined.

”Speaking of finishing up...” you say and bite your lip. Dave's eyes darken and when he kisses you next there's a faint taste of desperation on his lips. He thrusts into you and it's not long before you feel his body tense and he comes inside you. You hold him through his orgasm and when he settles back against your side afterward.

”Babe,” he says a couple of minutes later and you open your eyes to look at him. He has a serious look in his eyes. ”I love you.”

You smile and caress his cheek.

”I know. I love you too.”

Dave sighs and pulls you in for another kiss. It's interrupted not even a minute later by a shrill and bloodcurdling scream.

”MOOM! DAAAD! ALICE IS DROWNING MY BARBIE!!!” It's Molly, her voice able to cut through both skin and bone. Both you and Dave wince.

”SHE'S HAVING A POOL PARTY!!!” comes the even shriller reply from your youngest a second later.

Dave looks at you, beggingly.

”Two is enough, right?” he jokes and you laugh and kiss him.

”Definitely. You deal with that and I'll handle breakfast?”

”Deal,” he says and climbs out of bed. You take the opportunity to appreciate his naked form as he searches for his clothes.

”Girls!” Dave calls as he pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before disappearing from the bedroom. You smile to yourself and stretch out on the bed, smelling Dave's scent on his pillow, and your heart feels so full it might burst.

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

The TV is a low hum in the background. When the girls and Dave are all settled around the table, you turn to listen to the news report. They're talking of a big storm that's gonna hit in a few days. There's talk of evacuating parts of the city

”That doesn't sound good,” you say and Dave hums in question as he sips his coffee before he too turns towards the TV.

”Don't worry, baby,” he says, ”This is a sturdy home. We'll be fine.”

tag list: @yespolkadotkitty​, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ (don’t know who else has fallen into the Dave York pit but let me know if you wanna be tagged in future stories)

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 16- Turning Over a New Leaf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Bookshop/Bartender/Baking AU)

Word Count: 2,255

Summary: You’re busy with all the good stuff and renovations are well underway at the Bookshop, you set a date for the reopening, Bucky wants to make a change but he’s not sure how you’ll react. 

Author’s Note: Happy Monday again guys! As always just want to thank you again for coming along on this journey with me. Every time I write a new chapter it makes me smile and I hope you do too. This one was fun for obvious reasons...don’t be mad at me! I had to do it. Thank you again for your continued support and kindess and for reading! Much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluff (as usual), fun with friends, some sexy teasing and flirting and implied sexy times, Bucky’s beard...

Top Shelf Masterlist 

The next few weeks fly by in a dizzying haze of Bucky, the Bookshop renovations and your friends. You somehow manage to fit working a full-time job in there but it’s the least of your priorities and you are seriously starting to question how much longer you want to work there. It’s great and the people you work with are nice, but your heart just isn’t in it.

It’s already the end of August and Steve is finishing up the construction at the Bookshop. It’s coming along nicely, and he has even gotten Bucky to help and learn a few things along the way. “Hey Buck, hand me that saw please.” Bucky grabs it from the table and hands it to Steve but not before tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and nearly stabbing himself with the pointy end.

“Bucky. You gotta watch out. You’ve been messin’ with your hair all day. What am I supposed to tell y/n when you’re missing an ear?” Bucky chuckles at that but blows over his face to try to get the hair out of it. “It’s gotten so damn annoying. I really want to cut it.” Steve starts sawing, keeping his eyes on his work while he asks, “then why don’t you just get it cut?” Bucky takes his hair out of the bun and tries to smooth it back, sliding the hair tie over his wrist. “Because I’m pretty sure she’ll kill me if I do.”

Neither of them hears you come in over the sawing and their combined chatter. “Who will kill you if you do what, babe?” Bucky’s head shoots up mid hair fixing, and he smiles. Quickly securing it with the elastic he walks over and grabs you up in a big hug, kissing you several times before placing you on your feet. “I brought lunch,” you say holding up the bags with a warm smile.

Steve whoops and takes one bag, sitting himself on the floor and digging in. “So, Bucky thinks if he cuts his hair you’ll freak,” Steve explains through a mouthful of sandwich. Bucky grits his teeth but manages to look you in the eye, “don’t listen to him, I won’t cut it.” Steve flaps his sandwich in your direction. “He has been complaining about it since we started this and today has been the worst.”

You laugh at Steve with his sandwich but when you catch Bucky’s eye again, he looks worried. A loose strand of hair has fallen in front of his face again and he tries to blow it away. It doesn’t work so you tuck it behind his ear and trail your fingers down his jaw, gently combing through his full beard. “Ok, first of all. I wouldn’t freak out. I love your hair but honestly baby, it would be fine if got it cut. You’ll look handsome with any style and I’m not in love with you for your hair you know.”

Steve makes a gagging noise from the floor and Bucky shoots him a death glare. “Are you choking, or do I need to kick your ass?” He swallows his bite and makes a face, “you guys are sickening you know that.” Popping your head over Bucky’s shoulder you point a finger right at him. “Don’t you start sassing me Steve Rogers…I have to deal with you and Peggy through all this wedding planning and I haven’t said a damn word because I love you and I’m happy to be a part of it. So, shut it! Or…I’ll tell Peggy.”

That shuts him up but not before a few more grumbles. He finishes eating and gets back to work, leaving you two to your hair conversation. “Are you sure you don’t care?” You give Bucky a reassuring smile. “I definitely do not. BUT there is one condition.” His eyebrows meet his hairline as he waits. “You cannot shave your beard.” You say it with such authority and seriousness it has him throwing his head back in laughter. “Ok, boss, you got it.”

Throwing your hands up you roll your eyes and smash the bag of lunch into his chest. “Eat! I got your favorite.” Bucky leans against the table and opens the bag, pulling out his lunch and grinning. “Thanks, beautiful, I’m starving!” He eats it fast and gets back to work with Steve. You ask if they need anything else before heading back to work.

Bucky walks you to the back to get your bag but before you can retrieve it, he has you pressed against the bookshelf. “I wish you didn’t have to go back to work.” His thigh parts your legs and pushes against you, earning him a soft moan. “Bucky…don’t tease,” you whisper, closing your eyes when he starts kissing along your neck. He holds you against the bookshelf for a few more minutes, slowly building you up before he pulls away and smirks.

“Better get back to work before you’re late.” You level him with a warning look, forcefully pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Oh, you’re so dead, Barnes. Two can play at this game.” With that you stalk off, yelling bye to Steve on the way out. “Hey babe, wait,” Bucky calls after you, stopping in his tracks when you turn and glare. “Um, I’m gonna try to make my hair appointment for after work. Just wanted to let you know.” With a twinkle in your eye you give him a thumbs up, “sounds good baby, see you tonight.”

The rest of the day flies by as you push through e-mails for work as well as e-mails regarding the new baking equipment that has to be delivered next week. You’re going to set yourself up with a small kitchen in the back area so everything can be freshly baked at the shop. Bucky is also getting a state-of-the-art coffee machine and all the necessary accessories.

You and Bucky continue you to tease each other over text and when you finally get home, you’re exhausted but completely riled up at the same time.  Deciding a bath might help you relax you fill the tub with hot water and get in, sinking down to your neck and letting out a deep breath. Not long after you hear the sound of the door and Bucky’s voice calling from down the hall.

“I’m in here Buck!” Your eyes are closed so when he first walks in you don’t look up. He kneels down near the tub and brushes his hand over your cheek. “You look soft and relaxed,” he whispers. You hum and turn your head, slowly opening your eyes. With a gasp you sit up, sloshing water out onto the floor. “Oh Bucky. WOW.” He looks concerned and asks, “like a good wow or oh no this is bad wow.”

Instead of answering him you stand up and reach for your towel. His gaze roams over your wet body and he adjusts himself in his jeans. “I’ve been thinking about this all day, you’re not helping, and you didn’t answer my question.” Stepping out of the bath with the help of his hand you wrap the towel around you and look him over again.

“That was a good wow. A very good wow.” Taking your hand, you comb it through his short but fluffy locks. They are silky soft and still long enough to tug which you do, and he moans. “I love it. I love it so much.” Pressing yourself against him you let the towel fall to the floor, placing kisses up his neck and over his beard. “You know, I had this whole plan to put on some lingerie and tease you…give you a taste of your own medicine, but now…” You trail off when your lips find his and you cling to his biceps to steady yourself.

He pulls away, breathing against your lips, “and now?” Your hands are in his hair and your lips brush over his jaw. “Now I can’t wait another minute. I need you.” With those words he lifts you into his arms and takes you to bed, making up for all the teasing and more.

When you wake the next morning, you’re tired and sore but in the most satisfied way. Thankful it’s Friday you take your time getting ready for work, periodically breaking to watch Bucky sleep. His hair is tousled from your hands last night and the morning light catches some of the lighter strands, reminding you of caramel.  You really like this new look.

Once you’re ready to leave you round the bed to give sleeping beauty a kiss. His eyes flutter open when your lips press to his and his hand wraps around the back of your neck. Before he can drag you back into bed you pull away, tracing your fingers over his mouth. “I love you.” His soft smile fades when he closes his eyes again, kissing your hand and murmuring, “I love you,” before his gentle breathing is all you hear.

You stay seated on the edge of the bed for a few more moments, running your fingers through his hair and just admiring how handsome he is. When you finally make it out of the apartment you have to haul ass to make it to work on time, sitting down just as your phone rings. It’s Tony. He wants to discuss setting a date for the re-opening of the bookshop. You update him on the construction and delivery schedule and agree to meet early next week to figure it out.

Nat and Peggy come over later that night and the three of you work on wedding things. Peggy asked you to make the wedding cake and you’re terrified but of course you said yes. So, you spend the evening talking about the boys, trying some cake flavors you baked and looking at wedding dresses on Pinterest. Sam and Bucky are working the bar tonight and Steve is there hanging out, so you keep getting silly pictures of the three of them in a group text.

“Bucky looks pretty amazing with that new haircut,” Peggy comments, looking at the newest photo they sent, “and I wish Steve would let his beard grow out!” Your grin turns devious under your wine glass, “have you told him that?” Peggy smirks, giving you a sideways glance. “Not in those simple words.” Placing your glass down you lean in close as if Bucky is near enough to hear, “we’ve been so busy right, so shaving wasn’t really something Bucky wanted to do regularly because it’s a pain in the ass so his beard kept getting more full and I love it…you know.”

Nat looks at you expectantly and Peggy just looks confused. When your silent for another minute they both shout, “you know what???” Standing up you cover your mouth to stop your giggles and put your hands on your hips, “I can’t believe you aren’t catching my drift here.” They give each other a look then glare at you. “But you haven’t said anything except he didn’t feel like shaving much, so his beard got full,” Peggy states with a hmpf.

Nat’s eyes begin to narrow as she pieces it together. “Oh my god! You mean you like it between your legs, don’t you? You couldn’t have just said that?” She throws a crumpled napkin at your head and you all burst into laughter. Peggy grabs her phone and types a mile a minute, squealing when she sets it down. “I just text Steve and told him I want him to grow a beard so I can feel it between my legs…” You hear your phone chime and suck in a breath. “Did you send it just to Steve or to ALL of us?” Peggy pales, taking her phone and checking the message. “OH MY GOD!”

Next week…

After a very long but productive meeting with Tony you all decide that you should be ready to reopen on September 22nd. It’s the official first day of fall and a perfect way to launch into all the pumpkin spice and fall goodies you have planned. This gives you just about 4 full weeks to bring it all together. You’re sitting on the couch going over a list of what you want to serve at the opening when Bucky walks in after a shower. His long fingers comb over his beard as he watches you. “I still can’t believe Peg sent that text. I’m still laughing.”

“Oh, me too, I nearly peed my pants when it happened. And now that Steve is growing out his beard, we can endlessly tease him!” Silence descends and you feel the couch dip when he sits, drawing your attention from the list. “Hi.” Leaning forward you kiss his cheek and sit yourself in his lap. “Wanna see my list so far?” He wraps his arms around you and leans his head on your shoulder. “Of course. Do I get to taste test all of these?”

Counting down your list you have 8 treats, none of which he has eaten yet. “Oh definitely, I’m going to be doing a lot of baking the next couple of weeks. I can bring them to the bar for Sam and everyone to try too.” With his face in your neck Bucky hums his agreement. “You know what I think I’m most excited about,” he says, tickling you with his beard. “What?” you laugh, turning to meet his eyes. “For Grandma to see it all.”

@aesthetical-bucky​ @auro-ora​ @bugsbucky​ @buckys-broody-muffin​ @buckys-henley​ @buckys-minty-breath​ @book-dragon-13​ @bucky-on-my-mind​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @ikaris-whore​ @itsunclebucky​ @imgaril-lindru​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @kaosera​ @loricameback​ @lorilane33​ @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @littleredstarfish​ @breezy1415​ @mushyjellybeans​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @softpeachbarnes​ @tuiccim​ @the-wayward-robot​ @yansi1923​ @hiddles-rose​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @hawksmagnolia​ @flyawaybay​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @amandatar-06​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​ @fire-flv​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @irishflutiegirl​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @moonybarnes​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @inflxmes @lauratang​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ @buchanansebba​ @emilylyoness​ @curlyred2020 @addikted-2-dopamine​ @lady-pswrld​ @lookiamtrying​ @tales-of-spring​ @lokilvrr​ @mishaandthebrits​

[your-average-weeb-dealer]

☘️ Pt 3. AgedUp! Sorcerer! Junpei. AU where everything is fine and nothing is wrong.

☘️ (I think Tumblr ate a message i sent you last night i realized Junpei proably would become a closet marine biologist after Moondregs came along seeing how they are a giant ass jelly fish, so here is Junpei and reader on an aquarium date.) (not me spending over an hour looking up an aquarium in Tokyo to make sure this is accurate)

☘️Junpei finally had just decided to turn off his phone after it continued to ring. When he turned it on that morning, your body still curled into his, bracing himself for whatever awaited him. Which turned out to be 50 messages from Yuuji, 30 from Nobara, 60 from Gojo-sensei (seriously this guy), one from Megumi which just read "Did you have send THAT at midnight to my boyfriend? I had been trying to sleep." and an near uncountable number of calls and voicemails. How much they all cared about him and his sex-life was both enduring and concerning. Leaning more towards concerning. They had become his family after the death of his mother, a role they took far too seriously. But it did bring the biggest smile to his face while making his heart swell.

In the end he responded to them as simply as he could including apologizing to Megumi. You still slept on, eyes shielded from the sunlight that streamed into the flat by the shared blanket and his chest. Almost as soon as he sent the message to Yuuji there was a response.

So when do we get to meet them?

Soon, I haven't told them about anything. They only just found out about the scars last night.

Oh shit. How did that go?

Better then expected, its hard to explain over text. But they ended up saying "I love you"

!!!!!!!! No way!!!!! What did you do?

I said it back, and I meant it.

!!!!!WOW!!!! DUDE!!!

I'll tell you about it Monday.

Why can't you tell me today? 😭

Because they are still here and I want to enjoy whatever time I have with them.

WHY are you texting me if they are still there? OMG DUDE!!! Enjoy you day 🤤🥵😉

Junpei shook his head. Yuuji was a ball of sunshine made human even if Sukuna was more a blackhole and arse. It was a wonder that Yuuji had enough sunshine to deal with that, his dower boyfriend, his strange big brother Choso, and Junpei as his bestfriend. But somehow he did. Putting the phone back down he looped both arms around you and held tightly. Though Junpei had been feeling lighter recently. Somethings did dull in their aches with the passage of time. Having something new and bright to focus on helped blunt the edges as well. Not to mention seeing and hearing how you felt about the scars lifted him up higher. You stirred faintly a mewling cry escaping like an exhale. He shifted slightly to see if you were waking up or still sleeping. Blurry eyes looked back at him.

"Good morning."

"Only if there is coffee in my near future." You kissed where shoulder met neck nuzzling in when he shivered.

"If you want coffee I'm going to have to let you go and your going to have to get off of me." He sighed while raising an eyebrow.

Nipping at the sensitive skin before you slipped off him but still tucked close. Reluctance to move and not to just continue to lay in this moment was a weighted blanket on you both. Till his stomach growled. Now there is moment of mortification when your laying in bed with your new lover and they hear that you do in-fact have a body and it makes noise. With a deep shaky sigh he braced himself for what he didn't know.

"I'm hungry too." You murmured against him.

You continued to surprise him. He let out a gentle laugh and kissed the top of your head.

"Well I'll make you breakfast too then. How are your legs feeling now?"

"Better I'm sure I can stand on my own now, if you want help?"

"No its fine. I want to spoil you this morning."

"Keep talking like that and I'll never want to leave."

"That is the master plan." This time he kissed your lips. Both of you setting aside the minor horror of morning breath to enjoy the remembered contact.

Breaking away Junpei got up trying to remember where his boxers had ended up the night before. The floor was cold and he thought about finding socks. Still he got up and went to the hallway kitchen to turn the coffee pot on.

"Do you have any plans today?" You called.

"Not really do you?"

"No. But I'd like to spend more of it with you." Surprised Junpei turned to you with smile, enjoying the blush across your cheeks while you sat up with only the blanket around your shoulders. He continued to set up the pot measuring out the grounds. Hiding a spreading blush of his own.

"I have a pass for the Aquarium in Sumida, is that something you would be interested in?"

"I've never been but it sounds like fun. You must really like the ocean if you have a pass at the Aquarium."

You had no idea, once he had gained Moondregs he had become a little obsessed with jelly fish and then the ocean as a whole. Next to him the coffee started to pour.

"I think its beautiful, at just a glace its so peaceful but the longer you look the more power you see within it."

"That's a beautiful way to put it. Now I really want to see it, but only if you promise to share with me your excitement. Your so cute." He tried to glare at you while pouring coffee into two mugs. Your smile like a thousand stars took away any power it would have had.

"Cream or sugar?"

"Just some cream, I like it strong." He fixed the mugs till it looked right hopefully and brought them over. Sitting back down he handed you the mug.

"Thank you." You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before taking a sip. "Well if you make breakfast I can get ready and then clean up while you get dressed."

"Sounds good. But I will admit I love you like this." His eyes roved around the shapeless blanket knowing under it was your body which was so new and yet beloved to him. Raising an eyebrow you slipped the blanket off. Sucking in a breath and putting his mug on the table Junpei turned to taste the coffee on your lips. Both of you forgetting everything else.

☘️☘️☘️

It was hours later before you both stood in the aquarium. Junpei had instantly tugged you towards the jelly fish. The large tanks on the floor and walls almost made it seem like you were surrounded by the creatures. Excitedly he started to point them out and explain everything he knew about them. For your part seeing the excitement in his eyes and how he seemed to glow as he talked made you fall harder for him. There was so much joy in his actions and how he spoke it was hard not to be effected by it.

"Sorry I'm probably boring you." He smiled sheepishly before pressing a kiss to you forehead.

"I'm enjoying myself, and I love seeing how excited you are." Leaning into his chest, a comforting bliss in the simple act.

"Let me show you my favorite place." His hand tangled with yours.

From the Jelly Fish exabit you moved to Ogasawara Large Aquarium. The back of it, the aquascope, with it small windows and rounded walls left small areas to be able to watch the fish and sharks swim past relatively undisturbed by others. Holding you tucked to his chest while his head rested on your shoulder Junpei began to almost doze with the happiness and warmth buzzing though your bodies.

"Hey don't be falling asleep on me. My legs are still sore and I have no idea how to get home." You whispered in his ear.

"Fine. It's not my fault your so comfortable." Kissing your neck before standing back up still holding you close.

"Flirt." He loved how you shiver at the contact. "This has been an amazing date, we haven't even left and I already want to come back."

"Then come back with me, let's repeat the day tomorrow."

"Including how we woke up?"

"Especially that part." Nuzzling your neck, desire growing bright.

"I like that plan. On our way back can we get something sweet?"

"I already have something sweet." He whispered before nipping at your shoulder a place he had to recently learned was ultra sensitive. Your shiver and laugh was better then sake. Tightening his arms he closed his eyes taking in all he could of this moment hoping that it held the promise of a future overflowing with more moments like these. ☘️

FSUFHD DUDE THIS WAS AT THE BOTTOM OF MY INBOX AHAHA  AQUARIUM DATES WITH JUNPEI YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU 

as someone who’s majoring in marine biology- it makes me extremely happy just to think that junpei would also love sea life. Also, I think it’s canon that he likes ocean related stuff (idk tho I haven’t googled it) 

[twdeadfanfic]

First and Last Pt.4

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary:  There’s only one girl that Daryl has ever fallen in love with, the one who had to leave him and break both their hearts, and the one he’d tried his best to erase from his memory so it wouldn’t hurt that bad. There’s no way he could have guessed that he’d find her again, more than seventeen years later, after the world went to shit and the dead began walking, both their lifes different that what they used to be.

Tags: Sequel to my mini-series “The first to blow your mind.”  You can find it in my mastelist and read it before this or after it as a prequel. Daryl’s POV. My usual combo of slow-burn, fluff and angst, but there’s also some light smut. Some canon divergences.

Chapter: 3/28 Updated on Monday and Thursday

Thanks to the people who gave this story and read it, because I really loved writing it, it made me enjoy writing again.

...................................................................................................................

Daryl didn’t know what he was doing, walking around that place that he couldn’t seem to like. A new day had come and his family had gone out and about, as if they’d been in the damn place forever, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. Maggie seemed to be working with Deanna, Glenn and Tara had joined the supplies run team, Rick was off Daryl didn’t know where, and Carol had gone to the pantry where Y/N worked to collect some things before starting her new daily communal cooking thing.

Y/N…

He had dreamed about her again that night…the  dream mixing with memories long time forgotten…or maybe not that forgotten, even though he had tried to never think about it again…

Daryl was glad to be outside the walls of that weird place that made him feel so awful most of the time. He was tracking, trying to hunt something, but everything looked too familiar. Then he saw it, the clearing and young Y/N waving to him, grinning in that way she did every time she saw him, in that way that sent butterflies to his stomach.

She was collecting sticks so he could start a fire and roast the meat he brought with him. At the beginning, he had brought it already roasted, but one day he hadn’t had time to cook it before, being tied up with Merle and his damn friends, and he had gotten a fire ready and cooked the meat there with Y/N at the clearing.

After that, he had decided to start roasting it there because the meat tasted better freshly cooked, and because Y/N had seemed to like the idea. She liked to watch him and learn how to start a fire, liked to sit down around the campfire with him, and watch him cook. She said that if she watched him enough, maybe she’d be able to roast the meat herself without leaving it charred on the outside and raw on the inside.

All those memories, happy once but bittersweet now, came back to Daryl in a dream, but it was a dream, and so all he felt then was happiness. Excitement, as he approached her, but nerves too. He had something in his bag for her, something that wasn’t just meat for roasting, something he’d been thinking about doing for months and months, since he couldn’t find any of her mother’s books when he sneaked into her stepfather’s house, only being able to get her an old picture.

“I’m getting the shape right?” Y/N asked once he was close, pointing at the campfire she was starting to build, as she had watched him do again and again.

“Yeah. Perfect.” He nodded, smiling and sitting down next to her, carefully placing his bag on the ground, and Y/N grinned at him in that way she did…  “I…got you something…”

“Rabbit or squirrel this time?…don’t tell me it’s snake.” Y/N giggled.

“What, you didn’t like it?” They had only eaten snake once, not that it was Daryl’s favorite either, and Y/N had been quite freaked out about it at first, but then she hadn’t complained.

“It was…it was weird, it didn’t taste bad but…weird…” She giggled again, biting her lip as she looked at him, filling Daryl with all kind of weird feelings and butterflies. “Tell me is not snake.”

“It ain’t. Squirrel. But I didn’t mean that…I mean, yeah, I bring meat, but not only that, just…” He felt at loss of words, as usually happened to him, awkward and nervous, and so he stopped trying to say anything and just reached into his bag, taking out something and handing it to her.

It was a book, an old one, quite battered. He had seen it at the window of a crappy store in the town, that sold all kind of old stuff, mostly broken or useless, though it had some good finds sometimes, Daryl’d found a few motorbike pieces for cheap in there once that he’d been able to fix for his bike.

The book had caught his attention when he walked past the store. He thought he remembered the title, Y/N had told him it was one his mom used to like, if he remembered correctly. One that Y/N hadn’t been able to take with her when her step-father kicked her out of the house. Hoping it wasn’t expensive, Daryl had gotten into the store determined to get Y/N that book. If it wasn’t the one that her mother liked, it was a detectives one, and Y/N liked those things, so hopefully she’d like the book…if the damn old thing didn’t fall apart.

Y/N was staring at it now, stroking the cover as Daryl had noticed she used to do with books, seeming surprised, and then she looked at him wide-eyed. “Where did you get this?”

“You know that crappy, weird shop with the old stuff, not that far from your place?”

“Yeah! I’ve always wanted to get in, see all the old treasures it might have…but I’ve never dared…it is kind of weird…”

“Old treasures? Girl, all it has is shit.” Daryl snorted. “Ain’t treasures in this town. Sometimes you can find good shit, though… But yeah, it’s weird. Could go with you, one day, if you want…” He shrugged, trying to sound casual, as if he wasn’t still a mess of nerves every time he asked Y/N to do something with him, no matter they saw each other daily, spent so much time together…

“Yeah, I’d really like that…” Y/N nodded, giving him a smile before focusing all her attention back to the book, stroking the cover once again before opening it carefully, finding one of the old ink illustrations that grazed some of the yellow pages. “Woah…this is so perfect…I love it, Daryl, so much...” Her words gave him all the butterflies again. “It was one of my mom’s favorites, you know?”

“I know.” Daryl nodded and couldn’t help his smile, pleased he had remembered the title right.

“You’re the best Daryl.” She grinned at him and Daryl was sure the butterflies were going to make his belly explode. “You didn’t have to expend money on this.”

“It’s fine…told you, it’s a crappy old shit store, it doesn’t have fancy expensive stuff.” Daryl shrugged, he didn’t want her worrying about that.

“It’s so perfect…” Y/N whispered reverently, stroking the cover again, before carefully placing it down. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Daryl.” Before he couldn’t say anything, her arms were around his shoulders and she held him to her, snuggling to him, and Daryl snuggled right back to her. He loved it when she hugged him, yet he’d never dare to ask for it or hug her first. It still made him nervous and a bit awkward, but the warm and comforting feeling that her arms around him gave him overcame all that…

She pulled back, taking the book again, and for a weird second, Daryl wondered if he was suddenly jealous of a book. “Do you want me to read you aloud the first chapter?” She asked, grinning and seeming so cute and excited…his heart beating all funny as he nodded…

The dream had ended there, he had woken up before he could hear her reading, feeling kind of weirdly disappointed. The things he’d felt in that dream of a memory still lingered in him, making him feel strange things…and at the same time, making him feel like he wanted to talk to Y/N, to see her…

It was all confusing, and strange, and kind of scary…

Daryl felt more at ease after his conversation with Y/N yesterday…which meant he didn’t want to run away from her, but that he was still full of nerves and confusing feelings, with those ghosts memories making everything even harder. But he knew, he was sure now, that he wanted to know her again, to take this chance to have her in his life again, to be friends all over again…even if the memories of them being more than friends still hurt…but she had made him happy, had made his life better, being one of his best friends, and no matter what, Daryl had decided he wanted that again.

He still wasn’t sure about how to go about it, but he could probably just let Y/N take charge of that, just like the first time. He hoped he’d proved to her that he was interested in them being friends. Maybe he could do something, though. Maybe he could have gone to the pantry with Carol, say hi to Y/N, even if it was awkward, even if his stomach did weird things.

Daryl was abruptly taken out of his thoughts when he saw a commotion ahead, Glenn fighting with two of the guys of the supply team, and he ran to them, things escalating as punches were thrown. Glenn seemed to have it under control, though, pinning one of the guys to the ground, but the other was going for him and so Daryl grabbed him before he could hurt Glenn, pushing him, but before he could do anything Rick was pulling him back, telling him to stop, and Daryl didn’t understand a damn thing. Hadn’t he seen those assholes were attacking Glenn? Were they now supposed to let the Alexandria people pull shit like that just because they lived in there? Then he’d rather leave.

He didn’t snap, didn’t do nothing, he knew there was no point, just glared at them while Rick and Deanna talked about it, tense and ready in case Deanna might try something on his people. Instead, though, what she did was announce that she was making Rick and Michonne constables of the place. Daryl didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it, even less when Rick and Michonne agreed so readily, as if eager to become Deanna’s lapdogs or some shit.

He knew he was getting riled up, feeling eyes on him, hearing people’s murmurs, and so he decided to just walk away. He didn’t know where to, though, and he ended up once again sat down on that porch where he seemed to find himself all the time now. He was dying to go outside. He’d wait until the gate had cleared of gossipers and then he’d leave, just his crossbow and him.

Daryl was still there, mulling it all over, angrily carving a new bolt, when Y/N walked up the stairs of the porch to join him. “Hey, I was told what happened.” Her voice was soft, but it prompted Daryl into making assumptions anyway, all his self-conscious feelings coming back strong.

“Yeah? Came to tell me I’m a damn savage who doesn’t belong here? Yeah, no need to, I know already, I’ll be glad to leave.” He snapped, as if all his early thoughts about wanting to have Y/N back in his life were gone.

“Oh, come on, cut the bullshit, Daryl!” Y/N snapped back, making him look at her surprised. “I know you. Or I knew you. Either way, those things you said? Bullshit. And you know it.” Daryl just shrugged, blushing red and looking down, embarrassed. “You and your friend punched a couple of guys? I know those guys, I’m pretty sure there was a reason. So, can you tell me your version of what happened? No bullshit.”

“Don’t know…don’t know why Glenn was fighting with them.” He hadn’t asked, he hadn’t cared. “Just that they were two and Glenn one, and I wasn’t going to let them hurt him... But Deanna didn’t get angry, she made Rick and Michonne constables and it doesn’t make sense…” He found himself telling her everything, as if she was an old friend and they hadn’t been separated for seventeen years. It was…it was a weird feeling.

“Yeah, I heard about that too. I think Deanna has been thinking about that since getting to know them,” Y/N said as she sat down next to him. “I heard Rick was a cop, before, and Michonne…I don’t know her, but she looks…awesome.” She chuckled, seeming a bit embarrassed. “So it does make sense to me, they’d be good constables. We’ve never had stuff like that here, but maybe it’s about time, you know, shit can happen, people can argue, it might get out of hand…it’s good to have someone to show up and control it.”

Daryl shrugged, he was still unsure about being on board with the idea, but the way in which Y/N was saying it, it didn’t match with his idea of Deanna being throwing them bones to keep them content and doing as she commanded…it actually kind of sounded like those people saw them as useful. Or at least Y/N. Though maybe they didn’t seem him as useful, Deanna still didn’t say anything about him working on anything, and he was sure people still looked at him wrong.

“There’s been trouble like that before, here?” He asked when Y/N didn’t say anything else and he began to feel a bit awkward.

“No, not really, everything is quite peaceful in here, you know, and we’re also lucky with walkers stuff and that…so yeah…I mean, there’s been some trouble sometimes, as everywhere, but…well, not much…” She rambled.

“What kind of trouble?” Daryl asked instantly, the almost forgotten instinct of protecting her jumping back into him seventeen years later. Y/N looked at him and chuckled, shaking her head, making Daryl frown and snap. “What?”

“Nothing, just…” Y/N bit her lip but her smile widened anyway. “You really haven’t changed, have you? I mean it in a good way,” she added when Daryl’s frown deepened.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Y/N took a deep breath, frowning as she reorganized her thoughts, and Daryl felt so nervous he could run away. “You…you really care about your people, a lot. You did back then too…’bout me…” She blushed at that, and so did Daryl. “About your brother, even if I still think he didn’t deserve it, but you cared so, so damn much…”

He had, he had cared for his ass of a brother right until the end. The way in which Y/N sounded…it made Daryl wonder if maybe she did blame Merle for him having stayed in their town instead of going with her to the city. Merle was one of the reasons, yes, but Daryl had known that there was nothing for him at the city, he couldn’t do nothing there but drag her down…and so he had let her go and never followed her…

“And you still do it, you protect your people, you take care of them…so, yeah, that hasn’t changed…which is a good thing, if you ask me.”

Y/N shrugged, blushing again, and Daryl found himself thinking about her words. He had never seen himself like that, but now that he thought about it, now that Y/N said it, it sounded right. He did care for his people, deeply, more than for himself, probably. He did want to protect them, more than anything. Y/N was right, she was, as if she still knew him, seventeen years later, as if she knew him better than he knew himself even. Daryl looked at her in wonder and she smiled, biting her lip and blushing even more. She was cute, like she had been…the thought made his way into Daryl’s mind without him being able to stop it.

“You did it for me…took care of me, no one had done it before, only my mom, and she’d passed and I had no one…and then I met you…” Y/N looked down as she spoke quietly and Daryl blushed, feeling the weird twirls in his stomach and memories he’d kept looked coming back to him. “You’d talk to me, and took care of me, and you fed me, you protected me, when I was scared walking out that damn club…do you remember that time you beat that guy who was trying to…do nothing good to me?”

Daryl gulped and nodded. He did remember. That was the first time Y/N had kissed him. He remembered how the fight had gone, though. “More like he was the one beating me until Merle came…” He scoffed. “Don’t know why you’d feel protected after seeing that…” He’d been so embarrassed, he remembered.

“What? What are you saying? Damn, Daryl, for me you were like a hero!” Y/N bit her lip, fidgeting as if shy, and Daryl felt the weird twirls in his stomach going out of control while he blushed deep, feeling awkward too, he couldn’t help it. “Anyway…maybe punching Deanna’s son wasn’t the best to win her good side but well, she’s a fair leader, she’s not going to do nothing bad, you already saw how she made Rick and Michonne constables, so don’t go thinking she won’t have you here now or silly things like that.”

“I don’t care if she does, I don’t care if she wants me to leave, I’d leave. I don’t care” Daryl snapped, he couldn’t help it, everything about Alexandria and Deanna making him nervous and awkward.

“I’d care,” Y/N retorted, making him blink at her. “I don’t want to lose you again, Daryl. I don’t.”

She was blushed red, looking down, and Daryl blushed too. He didn’t know what to say or do, but it sounded to him like…hell, she cared for him? Seventeen years later. No, she couldn’t, she didn’t care for him, she cared for the memory of him. But either way, he knew that he didn’t want to lose her again, if he could help it, that he wanted to try to be friends with her again. After all, it seemed he couldn’t stop himself from still being drawn to her, seventeen years later, from feeling that comfortable with her, from trusting her like that. Years later, he still couldn’t resist her. He wasn’t sure he wanted too. Everything scared him, though.

“Ain’t leaving…if Deanna doesn’t want me, I mean. I ain’t leaving my family…” He rasped, and Y/N nodded, smiling softly. “And I meant it…that I want to know you again…so…yeah…” He admitted, shrugging and looking away.

“Good, that’s…that’s good.”

*

Daryl couldn’t sleep, perched up on that windowsill again, no matter everyone was now taking rooms.

Maybe Y/N had been right and he had been wrong. Maybe him and his family had been taken into Alexandria because they thought them useful and wanted their help, and it was his family who the Alexandrians should be worried about.

He didn’t know what was going on with Rick, but their last conversation that night at the porch had left Daryl mild confused and worried. It seemed as if Rick were thinking they could just take over Alexandria, claim it for them, if Deanna and her people didn’t bend to what Rick wanted, if they didn’t become what he had in mind.

Daryl was loyal to his family and to Rick, over everything, but still, his brother’s words made him feel wrong. Take the place for them…it kind of sounded like what the Governor had tried to do with their prison, no matter Rick had better reasons.

His family would have no problem taking over Alexandria, no matter the Alexandrians were more, they were kind of helpless too, they seemed pretty useless at fighting or protecting themselves, except Aaron perhaps, which still made Daryl wonder how the hell they had survived that long. For that same reason, though, the words “taking the place for ourselves” felt even worse…the Alexandrians wouldn’t stand a chance.

Probably he shouldn’t worry too much. Probably it was just a way of speaking. Rick would know what he was doing. He just wanted his family to have a home, a home that didn’t make them feel unwelcome or out of place, and a safe one, so he needed the Alexandrians to see that they needed to do some changes.

Daryl should stop worrying that much and let Rick and Carol keep going with their plan…Rick’s words still lingered heavy in his mind…he didn’t want Y/N getting caught in whatever argument or problem Rick, and maybe even Daryl himself, might have with Denna or other Alexandrians. He didn’t want her thinking the wrong things about Rick, either, or about himself. Maybe he should talk to her and tell her…what? That Rick was making some kind of plan that involved taking control of her home? It sounded all kind of wrong, and Daryl didn’t even know if that was what Rick was trying to do.

He felt caught up in the middle of things that he didn’t like neither understood, and he didn’t know what to do. Probably he should stop overthinking it, trust that Rick knew what he was doing, even though he’d been acting kind of strange, different. It was normal, after what they’d gone through.

“You okay?” Carol whispered, sitting down next to him, and Daryl nodded without glancing at her, still looking through the window. “You’re not worrying about having punched some idiots, are you?”

Daryl scoffed. “Of course I ain’t.”

“Then what have you worrying?”

Daryl just shrugged, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to explain it, and she too seemed to be helping Rick…sure, Carol’d have things under control, Daryl should stop worrying.

“How are things with Y/N?”

“Good…we spoke today…things are good…” Daryl answered vaguely, feeling like he was blushing. She’d said she cared if he left…that she didn’t want him to… that she…that she didn’t want to lose him again. Those words, it made Daryl feel all kind of weird things, it was kind of scary in a way, but also warm, and comforting, and Daryl didn’t know how to explain it, not even to Carol.

She just smiled softly, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

Daryl nodded, though he was sure he couldn’t sleep, his mind busy with all kind of thoughts, no matter he tried to stop it, it was as if its mind never wanted to shut up. Letting out a sigh, he leaned against the corner of the window, looking through the darkness.

...............................................................................................................

It seemes their relationship is progressing even if awkardly and slowly...but, there’s a twist coming next week that I was excited about.

Please, if you liked it, let me know your thoughts! I love to talk to you all, though I think I lost half the people who used to read my things.

As always, excuse my english, is not my first language.

If you want to be (un)tagged let me know.

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[chuckbass-love]

it's me again! May I request a Bucky Barnes x trans!female they've been in a relationship for a little while and reader is a theatre major. She always sings to Bucky in the morning or when he has a panic attack but is still a little insecure about her voice. So when she gets a lead role in her school's musical, Bucky is there to support her? (and maybe include a lil scene where reader actually sings to Bucky in the aforementioned scenarios?)

Hey love, thank you so much for another request. I love this one the most i think! I hope you enjoy all the ones i’ve written so far also. 

Reblogs are great and encouraged just don’t steal my work!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Trans!Female reader

Warnings: none except a whole lotta fluff and cutesie couple shit

Word Count: 971

I know the gif is from pitch perfect but it’s just a cute couple example for the story.

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @perfectfeelings go check them out 💕

Music In Me

“Baby, you got me like ah woo ah. Don’t you stop loving me, don’t quit loving me. Just start loving me” you sing as you place the food onto the tray before pouring some orange juice into a glass.

“Oh and baby i’m fist fighting with fire, just to get close to you. Can we burn something babe? And I run for miles just to get a taste. Must be love on the brain. That’s got me feeling this way”

You enter yours and Bucky’s bedroom as you softly belt the song out. You’ve always loved singing, it’s a huge passion of yours. Hence the decision to study it at college. You’re a theatre major, singing randomly and breaking out into random accents is your thing. 

You thank god that Bucky doesn’t mind it. When he asked you to move in with him, initially you were worried. Being the type of girl you are and the hobbies that you have, you wasn’t sure if he’d get annoyed by day 2 but he never did. In fact he started encouraging that you sing more.

“Morning Buck” you place the tray on the bedside table next to him.

He groans a little before sitting up, rubbing his eyes in the process.

“I love waking up to this” you raise a brow, questioning him “I love this, the breakfast in bed, you being by my side and hearing you singing around the house. It’s the best start to my day and i wouldn’t want it any other way” you hide your shy smile from him as you lean over to place the tray onto his lap.

“Also you nailed that song”

You try to shrug it off “meh, it wasn’t the best but it’s not a competition so it doesn’t matter”

He stops you before you can continue to put yourself down.

“You have to stop with that. Your voice is incredible babe. I love it and you’re talented now can we please leave it at that” you nod your head, agreeing with him for the sake of it.

It’s not that you are denying your talent, you just don’t think as highly of yourself as he does. He’s always praising you and saying how your voice soothes him. 

You’ve calmed him down from his worst panic attacks before. He was curled up in a ball in bed, practically shaking, his breathing was erratic. You cuddled him from behind, singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow from Wizard of Oz. It was like a switch just flipped. He was calmer, he turned around and buried his head in the crook of your neck as the sobbing died down too.

He never stopped thanking you and every time after that, you became his escape. The one person that could help him in those dark times and the one person that could make him genuinely happy. 

Today was no different to your normal morning routine. You woke him up with singing and breakfast in bed. You cuddled for a while after eating before you both decided that it was either shower time or going out stinking.

You almost fall over as you race each other to the shower.

The only difference with today however, is that you have an audition. 

Your school is doing a production of Grease 2 and today are the auditions for Stephanie Zinone, the part that you want.

Bucky has been learning lines to help you run through scenes and giving feedback on the songs for the last week. You know the movie start to finish and the songs too, it’s just whether or not you’re the best out of all the other girls.

-----------------

“Hi i’m Y/N, and i’ll be auditioning for the role of Stephanie Zinone” 

You take a glance at the script before putting it down, you start reading a scene with one of the guys that is auditioning for Michael.

You then walk around the stage as you start singing Cool Rider. 

You make sure to give eye contact to the directors of the school musical. You also spot Bucky in the back of the auditorium. He came along to give his support to you, he’s always so supportive of you.

Once the audition comes to a close, you stand on the stage, awaiting feedback.

“Well, I think i can speak on behalf of all of us here when i say i think we just found our Miss Zinone and Mr Carrington”

You both hug each other as you jump up and down. 

This is amazing. 

“Rehearsals start next Monday. Be here at 10am guys. Well done oh and Y/N, the character portrayal was spot on” 

You hug the guy again as you walk off the stage. Grease 1 & 2 are your favourite musicals ever and to be able to play Stephanie even if it’s in a school production is just incredible.

“Come here you beautiful, talented woman” Bucky cheers as you approach him. You pick your pace up, running into his arms. He picks you up and spins you around before placing a passionate kiss to your lips.

“Now let’s get home and celebrate” 

You follow him out to the car park, getting into his car with him and leaving to go home.

“You killed it today you know that right?” he intertwines his fingers with yours, one hand on the wheel.

“I don’t know about tha-”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t put yourself down. You smashed it. I’m so proud of you”

“Buck” you can’t help but feel all shy and emotional.

“I love you so much”

“I love you too Buck”

“I can’t wait to see you kill the first night with an audience. You got this”

His support is what keeps you going.

He’s your best friend. 

You feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

-----------------------

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[adolanables]

Linked - Part 8 (E.D.)

Masterlist

“Alright…” Ethan popped back into the guest bedroom with three bowls balanced in his hands. “Jonathan just left - we’ve got vanilla, chocolate, and my personal favorite- cookie dough.” 

“Oh, wow.” Anna sat up, a soft smile on her face as her husband sat down on the edge of the bed with raised eyebrows. 

“So… which one sounds good?” 

Sucking her lip between her teeth and tilting her head, Anna let out a puff of air. “Can I try them all?”

Ethan smiled widely and nodded, sitting the chocolate and cookie dough down on the bedside table. Soon, he was spooning a biteful of vanilla icy goodness into Anna’s mouth. Her eyes slipped shut as she swallowed. “Woah… I’ve been missing out on this!?” She giggled, opening her mouth again for another bite full that he willingly gave her. 

“I’ve always thought that was such a stupid rule.” Letting her try the chocolate, Ethan shook his head - unbelievable that she had never been able to have this before. 

With a shake of her head and a shrug Anna spoke. “There are so many rules, but this is not one that crossed my mind all that much.” She wrinkled her nose at the taste of the chocolate, letting Ethan know she didn’t like it. “I had no idea how good sweets were.”

“You’re using the home gym, aren’t you?” He questioned, taking a bite of the ice cream himself as Anna nodded at him. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t have sweets as long as you’re doing that. So no one gets suspicious.”

“I am using it - I just don’t have much other than a dress to workout in.” She shrugged, willingly taking the bowl of cookie dough from Ethan as he started to finish off the chocolate.

“Oh - no problem.” Ethan shrugged. “I can get some things for you, don’t worry.”

“You’re sure no one will wonder-”

“I’m a Dolan.” Ethan smirked at her, not loving the use of his famous name, but knowing it was true. “There are some things I can get away with pretty easily.”

Rolling her eyes and giggling slightly Anna nodded. “Okay, okay. Noted.”

The pair finished the ice cream quickly, both of them falling down into the bed and letting out a sigh. Ethan reached up to turn the lamp off, his body a few inches away from Anna’s. He wasn’t sure if Anna wanted to be held - their relationship seemed to have mended in the last few hours but he didn’t want to push her. 

“Ethan?” She spoke up, breaking the silence in the dark room. Her cheeks were heating up and she was grateful that it was dark.

“Hm?” He rolled over, knees knocking against hers.

“Do you think you could take me to see my family soon?” She whispered, feeling her nerves ramp up again. Ethan’s warm hand moved to rub softly on her forearm. 

“Yes, of course.” He assured her, taking the initiative to tug on her hips and pull her into his chest. Anna let out a soft sigh and nuzzled her face into his chest - the only time she had been this close to someone was when her mother used to comfort her. Now it was Ethan. His right arm rested beneath her neck, the other tucked into her hair as her legs tangled in between his. 

Sure, Ethan had been close to women in the past - so many he couldn’t even count them. He never felt this sort of intimacy in his entire life; Anna’s small breaths on his collarbone and tiny movements of her fingers resting on his stomach made his heart swell. Maybe - just maybe - he understood why Grayson was so excited about his wife. 

-

The next day, Ethan had Jonathan set up a lunch with Anna’s parents and younger sister Margaret. They would travel to Anna’s childhood home that Saturday and spend a few hours with her maiden family. Ethan had to spend time at the office that day, but had Jonathan send a note to his wife letting her know of the plans. 

Anna’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest as she read the small letter over and over. She was going to get to see her family and she couldn’t have been more excited. Truthfully, she was grateful she and Ethan had waited this long before going to see them. The last thing she wanted was her parents to realize she was unhappy - they would never forgive themselves. After last night, it seemed as though things had changed drastically. 

Ethan had woken up and brought Anna breakfast in bed - something she didn’t even realize husbands did for their wives. He had kissed her softly as he left for work, promising to be back early tonight. 

-

“Are you ready?” Ethan spoke through the crack in the bedroom door as Anna finished getting dressed for their lunch date. The pair had maintained their closeness over the last few days, Ethan noticing how sore his wife was had not suggested fornicating again. She needed to rest and recover from her first experience before this became a regular occurrence. 

Anna popped out of the room, a long red gown on with her hair flowing freely - something she realized her husband loved. “Yes - ready.” Her smile was huge as she slipped her hand into Ethan’s - she was convinced this was going to be the best day ever. 

When they arrived at her childhood home, Ethan couldn’t help but smile as he watched Anna let out a shriek of excitement. She had started to open up so much and he was really getting to see what her personality was like - and he loved it. Her parents and sister stood on the porch, awaiting the arrival of their middle daughter and son in law. 

Anna waited for Ethan to help her out of the car before she sprinted towards her mother, arms wrapping around her so fast. It took everything in her to not burst into tears - she had missed them so much. 

“Ethan - great to see you again.” Mr. Watson shook Ethan’s hand, a small smile on his lips. The man was sincerely happy he was able to see his daughter at all after giving her away. 

“You too, sir.” Ethan smiled back, resting his hand on Anna’s back as she finished hugging her sister. 

“Oh, I hope you two are ready to eat.” Mrs. Watson beamed, turning on her heel to lead the pair into the dining room. 

After the meal - which was filled with small talk - Mr. Watson went into the parlour for cigars while the women stayed in the dining room to clean up. 

“Anna, dear - how are things?” Mrs. Watson smiled, feeling confident her daughter was doing well and was in good hands.

With a soft smile, Anna nodded. “Great - really great.” 

“I’m so jealous that you get to go to the Hailette ball!” With a huff and stomp of her foot, Margaret reminded Anna that not much had changed. 

Tilting her head in confusion, Anna raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between her mother and sister. “Why would I be going to that?”

The Hailette ball was for the Hailette elite - not all upper class families were considered elite and the Watsons definitely weren’t. Mr. Watson did well for himself, but he was a first generation upper class man - a rarity in Hailette. For years, Margaret and Anna heard stories of the Hailette ball - the elite couples dressed up in extravagant dresses and had an extravagant dinner with lots of dancing and conversation. 

“The Dolans are top sponsors, Anna - of course you’re going!” Her mother beamed, hands clutching her chest in excitement. “It’s next Friday night - has Ethan not informed you?”

Anna was shocked for a moment, but shrugged knowing Ethan wouldn’t just leave her hanging. “Oh wow - I had no idea.” She would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited; the Hailette ball seemed like a fairy tale and the fact that she gets to go was giving her butterflies. 

A few hours of talking with her family later, Ethan cleared his throat in the doorway drawing her attention from her sister and mother. His eyebrows were raised, a small smile on his lips as he observed his wife enjoying her family time. “It’s almost four, Anna - we should be getting home.”

“Yes, of course.” Anna breathed, a small smile on her face as she stood and hugged her family goodbye. Her father stood at the front door, his arms softly embracing her and shaking Ethan’s hand - he felt proud to call him his son in law. 

-

“Are you alright?” Ethan’s voice was quiet as the pair drove away, the engine rumbling the only noise filling the car. Anna had been exceptionally quiet for the last twenty minutes - something he wouldn’t have been shocked by a few days ago.

With a sniffle and a quick nod of her head. “I’m okay; just hard leaving.”

Ethan felt his chest tighten as he heard the shakiness of her voice. “We can go see them again, I promise.” His hand left the steering wheel to rest comfortingly on her knee. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nodding her head, she gave him a small smile - he was trying. “Oh - um - do we go to the Hailette ball?” 

“Shit - yes.” He chuckled, throwing his head back against the headrest. “I completely forgot - we’ve been doing so much financially at work I just didn’t think about how you need to prep.” Squeezing her knee, Ethan easily turned the steering wheel down the winding road. “I’ll have Jonathan arrange a fitting for you Monday morning.”

“Perfect, thanks.” Giving her husband a small smile, Anna was quiet for the ride homel. When they pulled into the driveway, the sun was just starting to set. 

Ethan sprinted around his car to help his wife out - something he usually wouldn’t do, but he felt the urge. As she stood up, Ethan’s brow furrowed in a look of concern. Anna looked up at him with wide eyes as she felt liquid traveling down her legs. She was mortified; her hand came up to cover her mouth as she turned around to see the giant blood stain she’d left on Ethan’s seat. 

“I am so sorry, sir.” She gulped, she was sure her face was beet red as she thanked the heavens she was wearing a long dress. 

Ethan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He wasn’t mad at her at all, but he had zero experience with a woman’s period and was honestly a little freaked out. “It’s completely fine - I’ll have Jonathan take the car tomorrow to get it cleaned.” Quickly turning his attention to his wife who looked like she was about to cry. 

“This is mortifying.” Sniffling and letting out a sigh she looked at Ethan with glossy eyes. “I’m going to go inside and get cleaned up.”

Ethan watched with concern as Anna bolted inside and up the stairs; he came inside short after - sending Jonathan a quick text and locking the door. The last thing he wanted was for Anna to feel bad for having her period. In the past, at any other time if a woman told him she was on her period - he was out of there. He wanted nothing to do with the bloody mess. With that being said, Ethan soon found himself on the phone with his mother asking what he could do to ease the discomfort for his wife. 

-

“Eth- what are you doing?” Anna emerged from the bathroom in a fresh night-gown to see Ethan holding a hot water bottle in his hand.

“Oh - um-” He cleared his throat, internally rolling his eyes at how awkward he was being. “I was thinking you might like this… for your stomach.”

“Oh, thanks.” Smiling widely at her husband who clearly had tried so hard to find a solution to her monthly problem. Fortunately, Anna never had painful periods, but she wasn’t going to turn down his offer. “That will help a lot.” She let Ethan lay the warmed bottle on her stomach as she got comfortable in the bed, her eyes fluttering shut as he pulled her into his side. 

That night Ethan held his wife tightly to his chest after the bottle cooled, her curly hair was in a top knot that was tickling underneath his chin as her face was smushed against his bare chest. Ethan wasn’t sure how he was feeling after today. He had a great conversation with Mr. Watson, but it made him feel uneasy seeing Anna get so upset leaving. Was she not falling for him? Were the past few days useless to her? He wasn’t sure - maybe she was just sensitive to her family. What he did know was that he was going to keep trying to do everything he could to make her feel those things for him.

-

[crimefightingspiderguy]

left hand free

Part II to the series, i want you to want me.

Summary: (Y/N) is checking in on Peter in Germany. 

Warnings: I guess swearing? Maybe spoilers for Captain America: Civil War, but like who hasn’t seen that bad boy lol?

Pairings: Peter Parker x best friend!reader

Word count: 1,632

A/N: I’ve decided that I’m going to attempt to get this series done before I start my summer semester, so on the 15th of May, if I can’t then updates will be slow during that time, at least for a month until I finish school. Updates will ideally be 1-2 times a week since that’s about how many days I have off from work. Thanks for the support on the last part!

You anxiously pace back and forth on your kitchen floor. Lost in your thoughts, only brought to reality by the familiar ding of your phone. You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You pick up your phone and look at the text from Peter, 

P: “Just landed in Germany”

Y: “Well now that the hard part is over, have a great trip! 🙄🥴”

P: “All will be fine lol. Make sure to send me a picture of us “hanging” so I can check-in with May.”

“Hey, dad!” You called to him, hoping he could hear you from his room.

“What’s up?” He popped his head out from behind the door frame. 

“I have a strange favor to ask. Can you take a picture of me working on my Spanish project? Since Peter and I couldn’t work on it together, they want us to take pictures of each of us doing our halves so they know we didn’t just have one person do all the work.” 

“What happened with Peter coming over this weekend?” 

“Oh, it turns out he had a college recruitment thing. He didn’t think he’d qualify when he applied, so he thought he’d be able to make it. He’s gonna do his half in his hotel.” 

“Oh, alright.” Your dad takes your phone from you and snaps a picture of you leaning over the poster board, pretending to write the title for the project. He hands you back your phone. “That’s an odd request from a teacher.” 

“Well, that’s what they tell us, but we all really know that they’re just lacking in volunteers for the yearbook so they want to get some extra pictures of kids working on projects if they can.” You chuckled nervously, and took the phone back, immediately sending it to Peter. He went back to his room, telling you goodnight and to not stay up too late. “love you!” you shout as he shuts his bedroom door. 

“Back at ya kid!”

You phone bings and brings your attention back to Peter.

P: “Oh look how cute you look when you pretend to do homework 🥺”

Y: “Shut up. I hope Captain America knocks you on your ass with his shield.” 

P: “Well that’s not very nice. Maybe I should ask one of the Avengers if they’re in the market for a new best friend.”

Y: “Go ahead and do that for me because if you die then at least I’ll have someone to comfort me. Does Thor happen to be on your team? If so, I’ll gladly mourn my loss in his big strong arms 😢”

P: “As a matter of fact, he is not. Guess you’re s.o.l. Nighty night.” 

Y: “Night, try not to get yourself killed dumbass.” 

You continued working on the Spanish project throughout the night. After all, you were planning on having two people doing this, and now you have to make up for that. Well, that’s what you told yourself, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to sleep well all weekend with the thought that Peter might be in danger. But, if he really has been Spider-Man this whole time, then he’s been in danger for some time. But this seems like a different kind of danger. You’ve always know Spider-Man to be the friendly neighborhood crime fighter, but now that he’s working with the Avengers, you worried what that kind of exposure to a bigger enemy might mean for him. Maybe this is why Peter never told you, he didn’t want you to hold him back or worry constantly about him. You’d understand him not telling May because of that, but you thought that your friendship was something beyond just caring about each other. You thought it was the two of you encouraging each other and helping them to be the best version of themselves, so why didn’t he trust you with something that was so important to him? Maybe he thought you’d rat him out? But if he gave you the chance he would know that you would never go behind his back like that. Maybe this was your chance to prove that to him. Well, whatever his reasoning, you hoped he would be more honest from here on out. 

The next day you hadn’t heard anything from Peter all day. You assumed he was probably just busy, plus being in a different time zone probably didn’t help, but you still had a gnawing feeling. That was until you got a text of a picture of Peter with some locals, and you realized he was probably sightseeing until it was time to “suit up”. You smiled at the picture and saved it. He looked so genuinely happy, and you didn’t get to see that often in pictures. You realized that this was something that he was excited about. His nerves and tension you sensed when he asked you to cover for him were gone, and he was fully enjoying himself and his chance to fight with Iron Man. You sighed contently and shut off your phone, figuring it’s probably best to not have it taunting you throughout the day. 

When you finally turned your phone back on, about right before you got into bed for the night, you had a video from Peter waiting for you. It was him running around a town square and showing you all the different food carts. You chuckled, not really sure why he felt the need to share all the food carts with you of everything, but you didn’t mind. Accompanying the video is a text that says,

P: “Mr. Stark says we’re gathering at the airport in the morning because that’s where Captain America is heading, trying to escape.”

Y: “Loving the video and picture, looks like fun! Hope everything goes well tomorrow, kick some ass Pete ❤️ (oh and don’t die please)” 

P: “Oh now you want me to come back. Now that you know Thor’s not here to dry your tears?” 

Y: “I’ve always wanted you to come back, I’m just saying if you don’t… I might not be so torn up if Thor was sent to break the news to me 😉”

P: “I’ll put that in my will really quick “P.S. Send Thor to break the news to (Y/N)”.” 

Y: “I appreciate your support on this bud! Oh by the way, here’s a picture of the project finished for May, tomorrow I’m baking Mantecados so when you get back you can be my taste tester and then everything should be ready to present on Monday!” 

You’d gotten up and snapped a picture of the finished poster board. Then propped your camera on your desk so it looked about Peter's height, and set a timer. You hopped in front of the board and held your arms out in a way that someone would show off a car on a game show, and out on a big grin. You sent both to Peter so he had some options for what to send to May as proof. He responded to you after he saved them and forwarded them to May.

P: “Thank you! May is really appreciating the fun shots of you acting like poster board making is your calling. Also, I’m really looking forward to knowing absolutely nothing about our project when we present lol.” 

Y: “Hey, that’s on you lol. Read the points I have on the board on your plane ride back.” 

You set your phone down and closed your eyes, a smile on your face that you couldn’t shake. You were able to sleep peacefully knowing that for now, Peter was okay. You could worry about him tomorrow, but for now, he’s okay. 

You decided to sleep in as much as you could, since today all you had to do was go out and get some baking ingredients, then bake. You woke up around noon, which is definitely longer than you thought you’d stay in, but you weren’t mad. You were facing your alarm clock on your bedside table then turned on your back to stretch. You looked up at your ceiling and fell out of bed. 

“What the actual fuck!” You yell as you fall, scared to death.

You heard the most familiar laugh echo through your room as Peter fell from your ceiling to your bed. You stood up, grabbed your pillow and smacked him across the head. 

“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re easy to scare!” 

“No, but it is your fault that you’re a total ass.” You laugh at him, but then pause as he takes off his mask and reveals his black eye. You quickly take his face into your hands and gently rub your thumb over it.

“Who did this? I’ll kick their ass.” You said, completely forgetting that he was just fighting the oldest living Avenger.

“I’ll let Mr. Stark know to warn Cap that you’re coming for his head.” 

“Right, sorry. I did just wake up, I totally forgot you were off fighting big bad guys. So what was it like? Are you an Avenger now?” 

“It was interesting and kind of cool to be doing more than just stopping random thugs from stealing old ladies’ purses, ya know? And no, well… I’m basically an Avenger, but I think I have to wait for another assignment or something for me to prove I’m ready.” 

“Well, hopefully, they’re not needing you too much.”

“Why not? I could really do this! I could be an Avenger!”

“What about school?”

“Well I could obviously do both, I would just have to only do Avenger things when I can, but I’ll manage, I’ve been managing for a while now.” 

“Well, as long as your happy, and not dead, I’ll support you.” You chuckled, hoping that Peter would continue to trust you with his Spider-Man secrets. 

Current Taglist: @popluckbih

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[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us, Part 20. (Fezco x fem!reader) - The Aftermath, Part 3. (Ending)

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like a scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Inspired by Cinderella by the man of the greatest, Mac Miller for two reasons (and Talk by Khalid slightly in the end).

He truly is a great rapper in my opinion (and not because his life ended up so soon, sadly). I like the beats of his songs, the energy, they have thoughts in them (like Cinderella or Self Care).

Cinderella is a break-up song, but also, Mac says that he’s waiting for that girl no matter what.

Also, it should end up way different, but I was too sad, so I made it a bit sweeter. Still sad tho.

Warnings: Angst, ending of the series. You're gonna hate me, folks. Also a lot of Khalid mentions. And ma being right once again.

Word count: 4.1 K

Read the rest here, babe: PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5  PART 6  PART 7  PART 8  PART 9  PART 10  PART 11  PART 12  PART 13  PART 14  PART 15  PART 16  PART 17  PART 18  PART 19

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Tagging: @charmed-asylum, @jeyramarie, @pantherxrogers, @analia-analia-analia​

There's no such freedom as letting the bike ride down from the hill on its own, nothing is better than riding down with your ass up just as your hair flies around you and you close your eyes, smiling to the sun as songs rush through your earbuds.

For the first time in forever, you could feel happy and calm, a smile appearing on your lips basically on its own. The last few months were a fucking ride, you couldn't put it in other words. Your heart broke many times as you broke down in tears, sliding down leaning into the wall. There was a lot of screaming at your home, a lot of curse words falling down; from you and Fran, not from your parents.

She needs to go on rehab, your ma said when she saw you for the first time in hospital. There was no such terrible news for Christian parents than knowing that their child is a drug addict. Or a lesbian. They could somehow handle Fran like that problem kid, at least for the first time she got into a rehab, but when you ended up on a hospital bed for the first time as well, they were so disappointed.

Also at that moment, Fran was on the same hospital floor with recovering from cuttings under her neck, her ankles, and her palms. She was out. Sleeping. Fighting for her life. In the end, you couldn't blame your parents for their reactions. One of their kids ended up in the hospital, drugged and almost dead, and when the kid had finally woken up, the other one tried to kill themselves. It was just too much to take in.

Of course, you were forbidden to see Fezco when they learned what actually happened, or what occurred according to the witnesses. If they knew that the man with a red beard just appeared in the same room as you did, they would kill you both. Regardless of what happened, they made Fezco the bad guy, even if the police found him completely innocent. For further restricting the contact between you two, they even took your phone away.

Your man almost couldn't handle that shit - and he didn't even hear the worst part at that time. He sat by your side almost every evening since you were in a coma, holding your hand, sometimes even sleeping by your side - and when his little angel had finally woken up, he was restricted to see her.

Thank God, the teen-agers who were saving his ass have done a really good job - part of that was that Nate had got a good record with manipulating crimes and he was from a well-respected family. And the other part was done thanks to Jules, who took all his drug-dealing junk into her room until the situation got quiet. They were working to save him a good time and they knew that they would be able to manipulate a murder - which didn't mean that they would like to kill for business from that moment on (even if Rue persuaded that idea many times).

But in the end, Fezco wasn't arrested or rotting in jail, which made you happy. But even if he was legally cleansed, that didn't make a difference for your parents at all. He was a criminal - and he could damage your life and well-being.

Of course that as soon as they released you our of the hospital, and they also told that there's no need for rehab since you're not a junkie, you ran off in the night. It was a cold January night, it was snowing and the roads and pavements were covered in a thin layer of ice.

As soon as your lips touched his, your body started to undress before you even realized any of it. There was no need for words. You only needed him and his dick. You slowly realized that you're naked when his warm skin pressed on yours and started to heat it. The truth was that you only barely realized what you were doing as you felt all those things after a few months. You wished for his taste never leaving your lips, for his skin to warm you until the day was over and to smell him when you close your eyes.

Fezco wanted to make you feel love and to make you feel like a princess, yet it didn't end up like that at all. It was passionate, it was almost violent at whiles. You started on the bed and when he was finally naked, you somehow ended up on all fours, ass up for him, yelling to the floor as you felt the skin on your knees burning. 

He always told you that you look like a beautiful, tender angel. That night was somehow different - you wanted and needed to be broken by him. Fez basically destroyed you that night - just as you mesmerized him by slow, tender lovemaking - you rode him like he loved to and to feel you after such a long time was like a dream coming true. Unreal.

When it was all done, you laid down in his bed, holding him just as if he belonged to you - your hand around his hips, your leg entwined between his thighs with your forehead on his chest. You felt safe. But you know that it wasn't for too long.

"I heard rumors." - Fez started slowly, drawing circles on your naked shoulder, kissing the top of your head.

"Oh yeah?" - You wondered with a low chuckle, kissing the small sweet spot between his flat breasts. - "What did you hear? Do you want to share with the class?" - You mumbled as you continued up to below the line of his beard, your hand slowly traveling down, thinking of round three.

"About you movin' out of da town." - Fezco whispered, watching you with his blue eyes. He was... Hurt. And about to cry. Which mad you inclined to crying as well. It was like an instant connection.

"I am afraid... That those aren't only rumors, Fez." - You sighed. The man under your body just shifted for a second before he closed his eyes as he smoothed his face with his fingers. - "I need to. My parents want me to. And they wouldn't leave me alone."

"When ya leavin'?" - Fezco gently pushed you on his body, leaning his head down to kiss you.

"On Monday." - You mumbled to his lips and felt, how he tensed. And practically pushed his lips off yours. - "I have already packed everything."

"And when you planned on tellin' me? Huh? A short call at a gas station?" - He got up from the bed, taking some underwear on, leaving you naked between the blankets. Everything inside you strangely hurt, it felt like if you let your man down, because he wasn't even able to look in your direction. 

At that moment, he didn't think about loving you like anybody else on the whole planet, he just thought about you being gone from his day-to-day life in just two days from that night. That just wasn't fair - how could someone love somebody else so much only to let them go?

“Fezco, you know that it's not like that.” - You sat, covering your own body with a blanket. You felt as tears slowly crept into your eyes. - “You know how complicated my life is right now. You do.”

“Whatever, man.” - He leaned his palms into one of the cabinets in his room, looking into the mirror as you dressed up. You felt the need to leave immediately. Before knocking on his door, you were willing to give him both the nights that were remaining to you in the town. Now, you just wanted to get away from that place. 

And so you did. And didn't come back after that, not hearing a single word from Fez again. You took it as a break-up. He hadn't tried to contact you after that one last passionate night. It felt cold. So you acted cold as well, you didn't stealthy left your room or went to his and Ash’s gas station. And it hurt like hell; it hurt so much that you only laid in your bed and cried until you fell asleep, not leaving your room for food or toilette.

And this time, you hadn't got Fran by your side to tell you that you will do just fine - with Fez or without him. 

Rue and Jules came to visit you just before it was your time to leave, both of them were crying like hell. Rue held you for a ridiculous amount of time, so tightly that you giggled. Then you sat at your room, a rap song playing from Jules’ phone. 

“We’ll miss ya, idiot.” - Rue said and nuzzled her head into your upper thigh so you could massage her scalp.

“If you can behave and you will stay clean, you can come to visit me to Minnesota on spring break.” - You smoothed her cheek with a small smile. - “Granny has a place for all of us there. It will be fun because Minnesota is beautiful.” 

“Yeah, I heard somewhere that its wilderness is great. We can go hiking.” - Jules exclaimed happily, holding your other hand.

“Only if missy here on my lap will stay clean. Can you promise that?” - You asked the beauty on your lap and she nodded lazily with her eyes closed and a sad face, she was smelling you, so she remembered your favorite perfume or antiperspirant. 

“Anything new about Fez?” - You mumbled with a sigh. 

“He’s still refusing to speak with us. He tries to get me clean again and I think that we are remindin’ his ass of ya. You know that it still means that he loves ya?” - Rue played with your fingers childishly. Of course, he was in love with you - because you still couldn't get him out of your head or heart as well. 

The question was if you will be ever able to forgive him. Everything was screaming his name to you - like the small things on your bedside table, an empty frame where your photo used to be, weird hoodies that reminded you of his style, that tone of his voice whispering you dirty little jokes whispered to your ear, him making you laugh whenever he felt you're stressed that you could hear in any song you’ve listened to, his smile and blue eyes in the color of the sky. No. No, you knew you could hardly move on from that intense relationship. And even if you eventually do, there will be a part of you still in love with that man. 

No other boy will ever take your panties off, damped as hell, the way Fezco did. Nobody brews coffee the way he did and nobody else will watch you perform concerts only in your lacy bra and bathrobe.

“He will be fine. He always is. Let him take his time.” - You nodded, crying again, but smiling at Rue sadly. 

“And about ya?” - Rue asked seriously and you just looked away. After that, Jules changed the topic fast, because she knew that you're about to scream in frustration. 

One thing was crossing your mind again and again - why people who are the closest to be actual angels are the most corrupted ones? You took a good look at Rue, the girl with heart of gold - a drug addict, irresponsible woman with OCD, ADD and so many shits to add to the stock. Jules, such an incredible sweet - also a kind of slut for older men. Fezco, literally the best boy you have ever met and basically the love of your life - a dropout highschooler and a dealer who killed a person.

The people around you were the literal angels - and the most fucked up of all people youve ever met and you knew that you will never meet anyone like them in your life. 

So naturally, when it came to saying goodbye, there were so many tears that it couldn't be counted. Rue was telling you dumb jokes and promised to send you letters every once a while, Cal couldn't even speak in his terms because he was sobbing so much and Jules... She was just sadly smiling at you and even if she wasn't crying at all, you could feel that she is sad.

But you only laughed when your ma started the engine and Jules and Rue followed you on their bikes until the Hope you'll come to visit you again and you only could laugh because they were yelling stuff at you the whole way while you were leaning from the window and looking at them. 

When you left the town, you closed the window, seeing those two still watching your car disappear. You sighed and started to play with the few rings you had on both hands. 

“How you're doing?” - Your ma asked silently. You disappointed her really bad, but you were still her daughter and you knew that sooner or later, she will start trusting you again. But you also knew that you needed to take small steps at a time. Same with dad. You fucked up, that was for sure - but there was still a comparison to Fran, so your fucking-up bar wasn't as high, you thought to yourself.

“I'm doing just fine.” - You said quietly, not looking at her. - “Thanks for your concern.” 

“Y/N, stop acting like Fran. This is...-” - Your ma gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. - “For the sake of my own health and well being, I know, I know. How I said, thanks for your concern.” 

“Look, I know that this whole attitude thing is about Fez. And I get it, totally.” - She started quietly. That was when you turned off the radio and turned your face to her a bit. 

“He isn't a bad person and you know that.” - You mumbled with the breaking of your heart being pressed into every letter of that sentence.

“And if I remember correctly, I and neither your father ever told that. Never. Not even once.” - She sighed and after a long time, she started speaking again. - “He is a wonderful man when we are speaking about his character only. All I needed to know is that he makes my daughter happy and that he is honest and serious with her. And I swear to God that I've never seen anyone looking at someone else like when he watched every move you ever made. I liked having him over for dinner or movie marathons. He was kind to me and nice under any circumstances. Fezco is a good, loyal and loving person.” - She told you. You were sitting there like a hot pile of shit, looking in front of you without any word coming to your tongue. 

“And I know you left your room on Friday and I am not dumb. But you two needed to talk to each other for the last time. I needed you to do it, because it doesn't matter if he is a nice guy or not when he shot a guy with a gun, regardless it was self-defense or not. A mother doesn't want to see her child with a man like that.” - She stopped the car on the right side of the road and she watched as your cheeks have filled with tears. But she didn't stop the engine.

“And I know that if you want, you can just be with him again when you are an adult. But I think that now it just isn't your time to be together - things happened to him, thing happened to you and... I know it hurts, baby. I know. But give it some time. Let both your lives settle down, grow up a bit, grow as a person and someday, maybe, if you want, you can save the man you're so blatantly in love with now.” - Your ma took your hand to her palm and kissed it slowly, letting you cry. 

She was right, just as always. You’ve done wrong - but just as you did, he did too. And she did even know that if you would want to continue the relationship in the future, you could and she couldn't stop. But this was her way of making you stop for a while, so you could get out of Fezcos drug world she didn't even know about. 

“We have broken up... The night I have sneaked out of my window.” - You confessed quietly and she just closed her eyes and exhaled out loud. Your ma was the wisest woman you have ever met. She did antagonize Fezco - but on the other hand, she was able to tell that he has a kind heart and that the relationship you had was an unusually strong one for the first one in your romantical life, at least openly. 

She even liked that boy. He helped with the dishes, laughed at her dumb jokes and brought her some nice pieces of dishes and flowers when he had an opportunity. Naturally, she was a little sad that you called your romance off. Or, more likely, he called it off.

“You will be fine, baby. You will do just great.” - She promised and kissed your forehead. She was mad at you most of the time - but the mother does nurse their children when something happens. Plus, you already showed the will to turn the things around. 

Even if it was without an internet connection and extremely far away from your own home, you loved your granny’s big house in Minnesota. It was a big and old one and you loved spending time there since you were small. It was kind of a bummer to start school all over again without anybody, but you managed. 

Your mom got you a new phone number and made sure to give it to Leslie and to Jules’ dad, so they could call you from time to time when you weren’t doing anything at the moment. The town was pretty small and you knew most of the people - but nobody knew the true reason why you moved there. They were glad for you nonetheless.

You found new friends sooner or later and one day, while you’ve been sitting at a coffee, waiting for your studying partner, you’ve hidden all the photos and stories you had with Fezco on Instagram. It felt strange, yet the memories in photos of you and Rue, Leslie, Gia, Jules, and other girls made you genuinely laugh. 

In this town, you had a good reputation - you were a pretty good student, the nice person helping on local events for children. To say at least, you’ve been good. 

And just as Rue promised, she wrote you letter every two weeks. She bragged herself about being clean so she could visit you with Jules - she also wrote the number big and colorful, so you couldn't miss it at all. 

Over time, small notes were delivered in the letter for you - for example, a polaroid of your and Fezco’s favorite restaurant and when you turned it, there was Do ya remember? written in big letters. 

For the first few times, you thought of Rue doing weird Rue shit - but over the time, the photos got more and more intimate - the place where you sat and made love under the stars, the pool where it all has started, a small spot on the counter in his shop which you marked as yours with a heart drawn with a glitter pen. Later, you started a small collection and you were smiling every time youve opened up the book to save another polaroid there. It was like he was speaking to you with small sentences like I remember everything or This place ain't da same without ya singin’ Talk (*by Kalid, author’s notes) and the sweetest was when you received a photo of his bed with This space empty without ya, just like ma heart.

And that’s what got you to that one April afternoon where you drove the hill on your bike, listening to some good old Khalid, as you did with Rue. Thanks to her, you knew a few of his songs by your heart. Rue loved him.

Just as you entered the house, you kissed your grandma on her cheeks and went to your room to clean up your things. The phone was laying on your bed and still playing songs when it started to vibrate and play the ring bell tone. 

You were surprised - it was neither Rue or Jules, Fran was calling from rehab every Wednesday, ma called on Friday. When you read the number, your brain recognized it as if someone snapped next to your ear. You got anxious and you almost threw up - you never tried calling him, you weren't seeking photos of him or exactly threw up yourself in self-pity and melancholy, only the first week you’ve been in Minnesota was like that. 

Did you want to hear Fezco actually? Wouldn’t it just hurt you more? You knew how cold he was when you told him that you’re leaving... Three months ago. But since then, he was slowly making you fond of those memories you had with him. He was apologizing in his very own way. 

But the true question was if you were ready to hear him again. You were nervous, sweaty, shaking like hell. The first call fell into a black screen and you exhaled slowly. No, you weren’t. You definitely weren’t.

Just as you threw the phone back on your bed so you could continue with the stuff you had to have done, it started to ring again. You closed your eyes, leaning into the wall. So Fezco was serious with the call? It made you only more anxious and angry. He was acting like such a douche the last time you’ve seen him and even if he took you cute polaroids, he didn't even apologize. 

That evening was mostly Fran’s fault, yes, but he technically shot Mouse down. And he did so for a good reason - Mouse was scared that you will disclose their location to the police. You could be the corpse. But exactly was also a reason why you had to leave. And he didn't exactly have the decency to neither explain himself or say sorry.

You were basically sure that you are done with him - backing up all those photos you had so you still had them, but not in your gallery, archiving every post on socials you had with him. You guessed that you weren't simply a thing anymore. 

And you even tried to date a guy in Minnesota. But just the way he held your hand didn't feel right. Fezco always held it like if you were a princess, gently playing with all the ring it had, kissing your knuckles or fingertips while he was bored or listening to what you were saying. And the way Minnesota boy was kissing? N O  W A Y. It wasn't right at all. His clothes weren't as cozy as Fezco’s, he didn't smell as good as your former boyfriend did. He didn't touch you so you would feel like a goddess - that was a no-no situation for you.

And you realized that Fez might have set the standard bar for other boys who tried to win you for themselves too high. He truly was spoiling you with every look and every touch.

But that didn't mean you would just run to him when he calls you like a dog. He was doing some fucked-up things and you acknowledged that especially since you weren't mesmerized by him every day. 

So you told yourself that if he calls you for the third time in a row, you will pick the phone up no matter what. No matter how angry or nervous you would be. The second ringtone ended and you watched the screen with anticipation. The phone was silent for a minute, then for two, three... You sighed and shook your head. 

“Y/N! Dear! Can you come and help me out here with something?” - Your granny screamed at you from the first floor. You slowly went to the door, still glued to the screen of your phone as you held the door in your hand. You almost closed it, but it rang again - and to your surprise, a big smile grew on your lips as you went to pick it up. 

“Gimme five minutes, grandma!” - You yelled back at her and sat down on your bed. 

And you picked up.

FIN

[death-himself]

Hidden in Shadows—Chapter 13

Summary: Thomas has a day off and his kids are at school, so why not spend some time baking with Virgil?

Word Count: 1,313 (I am so proud of this accident)

Warnings: Food (I think that’s it?)

previous next (AO3 Link)

Click, click, click. Virgil was lying on the ground of his cave, staring up at the small cube he held above his face. He had seen Logan fiddle with it while doing his homework all the time, saying that it helped him concentrate. Last night he had stayed at the Sanders’ house after the kids had fallen asleep, so he decided to borrow it and put it back where he found it before they woke up.

He turned the cube over in his hand, enjoying the small clicking the switch on one side made, before switching to the side with the buttons and enjoying the small, similar clicks they made. He didn’t know why it was so mesmerizing to him, but it was. And to think when he first saw Logan holding it he thought it was a bomb.

He glanced out his cave, cursing as he realized the sun had risen. He melted into the shadows, coming out at their house to find that everyone was already up and bustling around. 

Roman was screeching about how long Logan was taking in the bathroom while Logan screeched back about how it had only been five minutes, Patton had spilled cereal all over the floor, and Mr. Sanders looked dead inside as he somehow managed to pack their lunch boxes and clean up Patton’s mess at the same time. So, it was a normal Monday morning.

Virgil locked eyes with Mr. Sanders, who hesitated before nodding in the direction of the bathroom, silently asking Virgil to calm Roman down. Virgil obeyed, walking over to Roman and picking him up, carrying him over to the dining table and sitting him down. Roman whined in protest.

“Wait your turn, drama prince.” Roman grumbled nonsense in an almost mocking tone, grabbing the now half-empty box of cereal and pouring himself a bowl.

Half an hour later, the chaos was over, Mr. Sanders had driven the kids to school, and Virgil was left alone in the house. He stretched out on the couch, turning on the TV and fiddling with Logan’s cube a bit. Logan hadn’t noticed it was gone and he never took it to school, so Virgil guessed there would be no harm in it.

He had zoned out, not really hearing when the front door opened and closed, and not noticing when a shadow began looming over him. “Virgil?”

Virgil jumped, falling off the couch and turning around to glare and hiss at whoever dared to sneak up on him. Mr. Sanders had done almost the same, scrambling back into a wall, his heart pounding out of his chest. Virgil blinked out of his stupor, looking Mr. Sanders up and down, before slowly sitting back down on the couch.

Mr. Sanders cleared his throat, joining him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” The two turned their attention to the TV for a moment, both silently watching without really taking in what was playing.

“I don’t really have anything to do today. Joan forced me to take a break, so I kinda have to listen to them.” He thought for a moment, before turning to Virgil. “Is there anything you want to do?”

“You’re asking me for suggestions?”

“Yeah! Whenever I have a day off I usually ask my kids if they want to do anything first, and you’re the closest I’ve got to one of my kids right now.” Virgil blinked, unsure of whether he was happy that he was almost one of Mr. Sanders's kids, or upset that he wasn’t one.

“I don’t really have any ideas.” Mr. Sanders hummed, scrolling through his phone. As he came across a page he had bookmarked, his eyes brightened.

“Why don’t we make cookies? I found this three-ingredient recipe a while back and I wanted to see if it worked.”

“Yeah, alright.” Virgil had seen Mr. Sanders try to bake with Roman before. It usually ended in disaster, so he didn’t really have a good feeling about this. Nonetheless, he followed Mr. Sanders into the kitchen, his back hunched and his hands shoved into his pockets.

“We might as well double the recipe. Let’s see, ¾ times 2 is—”

“What do you mean times?”

“You know, like multiplication?”

“What’s a multiplication?” Mr. Sanders stared at him. Virgil grimaced and subconsciously curled tighter into himself, speaking through clenched teeth. “What?”

The father shook his head. “Sorry I just...forgot you wouldn’t have gone to school. Do you mind measuring out the peanut butter?”

Virgil huffed, doing as he was told. “I can read and write, that’s all I really need. It’s not like I can get a job or anything.” He mumbled to himself.

Thomas had understood before that Virgil was a fifteen year old. But he wasn’t sure if it had ever truly clicked that he was a fifteen year old. He was still a child who never went to school. Honestly it was a miracle that he even knew how to read and write, that was stuff that a parent would teach you.

Virgil had to learn on his own, without anyone there to help him. Thomas couldn’t help but be reminded of all the times he needed his parents’ help during his childhood.

Soon, the batter was mixed, the cookies were on a tray, and they were placed in the oven. They began to clean up, Thomas washing the bowl and measuring cups while Virgil dried. Thomas couldn’t help but glance up at Virgil every so often. Never before had he looked at this nine foot tall creature and had the thought of “that is a child that would still need a parental guardian if he were human” so prominent in his mind.

They waited out the last few minutes on the timer, Mr. Sanders and Virgil both sitting on the counter just a foot apart. Mr. Sanders had turned on a Youtube video and held it between the two of them in order for them both to watch. Virgil was admittedly surprised by that, but tried not to show it, instead focusing on the video.

Thomas admittedly felt bad for being unsettled by Virgil’s voice, as well as his laughter. Which was why Thomas had chosen one of the funniest videos he could think of in an attempt to get rid of that feeling. Was Virgil’s laugh truly unsettling? Yes, it very much was.

But Thomas could see that Virgil was enjoying the video, and that he was trying to cover up his small snickers and giggles as much as possible. And laughter showed that someone was happy, so what kind of good father to anyone would Thomas be if he was freaked out by the sound of a teenager’s joy?

The timer beeped, and Mr. Sanders took out the cookies, placing them on a cooling rack and waiting a bit for them to cool. Once they had cooled, he plucked one up and handed it to Virgil, grabbing another for himself. “Well, cheers!”

The cookies tasted alright. They weren’t the best. Considering they were the first Virgil had ever had, they were pretty good to him. Mr. Sanders dusted the crumbs off his hands, saying, “You can have two today since you helped make them, but after that only one a day, alright?”

“What?”

“Or you can have two if you’re having a bad day. Those are the cookie rules in this household.”

“Okay?” Mr. Sanders nodded affirmatively, reaching up as if trying to pat Virgil on the head, before resorting to patting his shoulder when he realized he couldn’t reach, then heading into the living room.

“You wanna watch a movie? I have a couple you might like.” Virgil bit back a smile as he followed Thomas in. He wasn’t really sure what was going on with Mr. Sanders today, but...he couldn’t lie and say he hated it.