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justkending · 2 years

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Everest. Epilogue.

Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Word Count: 5200+

A/N: So sorry this didn’t post when I planned for it to. I had finished it and just before posting, went back to scratch some of how it ended. I’m a lot happier with this ending and I’m hoping I did this fic the justice it deserved. So without further ado, here is some cute Bucky and Y/N moments following a year after the last chapter. (Also, if you would like for me to do a short drabble on Tony and her making up, please let me know. I have an idea for it, but felt awkward adding it in here as it didn’t fit the vibe I was going for.) XOXOXOXO

UPDATED A/N 1/27/24 (I have rewritten this chapter, but it has not been proofread, so ignore any typos and such :)

Chapter 17:

A little over one year later.

"Buck?"

"Yeah!"

Bucky had been in the kitchen with Ryker at his side as he moved some pans with dehydrated orange slices off the stove and to the kitchen table.

"Have you seen my hat?"

"Which one?" he asked, placing the filled kettle on the front burner and igniting the flame.

"The one you made me," she shouted from one of the rooms in the back of the house.

He chuckled and playfully rolled his eyes at the comment before adjusting the flame and blowing out the match he had struck.

"You don't have to wear it," he shouted. "Even out of the kindness of your heart-"

"You gifted it to me. I get to choose when I'm going to wear it." Her attitude was not lost through the walls she was yelling through.

"It's barely halfway done. Or done correctly," he exclaimed.

He could hear her footsteps getting closer and leaned back on the counter with his ankles and arms crossed, knowing she'd be coming through the threshold to the kitchen in seconds.

"It's perfect," she came in with it on her head, showing that even his hiding it wouldn't keep her from flaunting the self-made gift.

"It's holey," he countered with an amused smirk. "It won't do the job it was attempted to be made for."

He wasn't wrong. It was the first thing that Y/N had shown him how to crochet, and it was patchy and awkwardly fit around the crown of her head. He had attempted a few other projects in the needlework field and had gotten better, but nowhere close to the kind of things Y/N would create.

He had truthfully only joined the hobby as a form of quality time with her. They would sit on the couch together at night with the fire going and talk while she attempted to coach him through the stitches she had spent years memorizing, to the point she could make a whole blanket for someone Bucky's size in under a day.

And out of all the things he made, she always went with the first amateur hat he had butchered.

"Good thing I don't actually need the extra heat. Energy fields," she wiggled her fingers dramatically with a smirk of her own.

"God, you're like a second Steve sometimes with how dorky you can be," Bucky shook his head, going to get two mugs out.

"Eh, I'll take that as a compliment. You know you love it," she shrugged, moving toward the oranges. "These turned out nice."

Bucky hummed after looking back to see what she was talking about and proceeded to get the green powder ready for their drinks.

"What's next with that project?" he asked, measuring things out precisely. She had learned he was quite fastidious with things concerning precision or quality.

"I'm going to thread them through a string and hang them up as a garland for decoration and such. I need to add some cloves and cranberries throughout it. And probably some cinnamon, too... A few herbs for extra precaution."

"Precaution?" Bucky furrowed an eyebrow.

"Witchy things," she turned back to him. "The oranges represent the sun, which represents letting light in during cold and dark seasons like Winter. The cloves are to welcome protection and prosperity, and they banish evil."

"What about the cranberries and cinnamon?" Bucky questioned.

He had learned he loved when she went on about the meanings behind all the simple yet purposeful things the Earth had to share, especially when they related to historical backgrounds.

"Cinnamon can be used for multiple things, but for this specific project..."

She picked up an orange and bent it gently to test its density. "Keeps negative energies out. Helps me feel a little less tired on rainy and cold days. The cranberries are more for color, but if you want to put significance behind it, it heals and gives feelings of abundance and energy."

Bucky stared at her in silence as he added these new facts to the witch compartment in his mind he had created after meeting Y/N.

"Ryker, you ready to do our morning chores?"

Bucky snapped out of his thought process to see Y/N on her knees with her dog. It wasn't uncommon for her to spill extensive knowledge that most people don't have locked and loaded and then to carry on with her day as if she didn't constantly stump the 100-plus-year-old man.

Ryker let out a loud bark as his answer and started to sprint through the doggy door in the mudroom, loudly announcing his exit.

"I wish I got that excited about chores," she sighed, standing and brushing her knees off. She was wearing a signature outfit of her own mixed with an English farmer aesthetic and Scottish witch as she had labeled it.

"I'm gonna make breakfast, then I'll come help. Want anything specific?" Bucky asked, getting the creamer off the fridge.

"Hmm, yes! I'll go get the eggs, and we can do huevos rotos," she hummed at the thought of the breakfast she'd been craving since their last binge session of Top Chef.

"Already did it," he pointed to a halfway full basket designated for the eggs and their fragile state.

She looked back at the wired basket layered with a soft cloth inside, then back at him, but with a sneaky look. One he knew too well.

"Do you ever sleep?" she asked.

"When I want to," he shrugged, looking up at her for a second before going back to the hot drinks.

"What are you making?"

"Matcha tea latte with all the fixings," he responded casually. "Want anything else in it?"

"No, the normal is perfect," she nodded, grabbing a sweater off the back of a kitchen chair. "You know, you're slowly turning into me?"

"There are worse things in life to become," he winked in her direction before returning to the two mugs he was focused on.

"You were meant to be a comedian in another life. I just know it," she exaggerated a laugh.

"It's actually a decent side gig," he shrugged, stirring the last bits of the steaming drink before walking it over to her.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking it gently in her hands. "Wanna help with a few chores?"

"Let me grab a jacket," he nodded, taking a quick sip and running off to the guest room where his things were.

Over the last year, Bucky visited Y/N's place quite frequently. Sometimes, he would go on missions and help out at the compound, but a lot of the time, he found that he liked escaping to the cottage farmhouse life that Y/N had created for herself in the European countryside.

So much so that he had been staying here every night for the last month. He told Steve and the rest of the team he wanted to take a vacation from the job and asked Y/N if she minded him visiting for a more extended period.

Of course, she was happy for the company, especially someone she had become close friends with.

He helped around the house and voluntarily aided in chores with the farm, and in the end, they both liked learning and spending time with each other.

Was there something more to it all than just friendship? At least out loud, nothing had been said, but they cared for each other, looked out for each other, and sat and talked for hours about their life and the happy memories they created. Which was balanced out with deep emotional talks about trauma and things that tended to seem more complicated to talk about with others.

And even when it was silent, there was a comfortable essence between the two as they carried on with their life, happy to be in the same space as the other.

Yes, they were friends. Yes, they had a connection. Yes, they would stop everything they were doing to help the other.

It didn't need to be spoken into existence for the two to know there was something a little deeper than just friendship. They knew it. Hell, flirty compliments and conversations were had here and there, but as for the last year, they were enjoying the atmosphere of spending quality time with each other and getting to know each other as individuals first and foremost.

"Oh, we need to chop and bring in some more firewood tonight. It's going to get cold with the freeze coming," Y/N shouted toward the room as she drank from her tea and moved things around on the kitchen table. "And I want to get the barn set up so the animals can be comfortable with the weather change as well. May need to get Zazu's and the cow's stalls insulated with fresh hay and such."

"Consider it done," he answered, coming back into the room in a fleece-lined flannel over his long-sleeved henley.

"You're wearing my flannel, I got you," she grinned widely. He had learned she loved giving gifts, and he had learned how much he loved practical ones. As well as one bought with the thought of him in her mind.

"Too nice not to," he nudged her gently with his shoulder as he passed by her to put on his boots.

"I'm going to check on the coop and see if the insulation we put in yesterday is holding up. Meet me at the greenhouse?" She grinned.

"Meet you at the greenhouse," he confirmed, smiling back.

"Perfect."

________________

Later that night, all day chores done and all the animals packed in the coziness of their homes, Bucky and Y/N sat on the couch with bowls of cranberries and mixed herbs to thread onto the garland.

"How long have you been doing this?" Bucky asked as she skillfully weaved a needle and string through the fruit and garnishes.

"It actually used to be a winter tradition with my family," she smiled, thinking back to a happy memory. "I doubt my parents knew of all the superstitions and intentions attached to it, but we would wrap oranges around greenery and sometimes some cranberries if the season allowed it. I just started modifying it to my preferences once I started doing it alone."

"So this is a 400-year-old tradition?" Bucky smirked.

"Call me out on my age, but yes," she laughed, putting her hand out for another citrus slice Bucky had been handing her.

"You look really good for your age," he jibed.

"I can say the same for you, Sarge," she toyed back.

That comfortable silence they had found healing followed. Y/N focused on her task, and Bucky focused on watching her. But just before he was caught staring, even if she could feel his eyes on her, he looked around the living room, taking in the comfort of her home and the fall decorations that would soon be outdated within a week as Thanksgiving was around the bend and Christmas was on the horizon.

Then, a question he never thought to ask came to the forefront of his mind.

"Did you celebrate holidays by yourself those five years?"

"Those five years and many more before," she answered simply as if the statement wasn't saddening.

He looked down at his hands full of dried fruit and then around at the home.

"What's it like?" He was genuinely curious.

She paused in her work and looked forward as if waiting for the answer to come to her.

"It's not my favorite... But it's an opportunity to make my own traditions. Well, Ryker and I make traditions," she shrugged, looking back to him and seeing the sympathy in his eyes.

She turned to look at Ryker cozied up on the love seat next to them, angled and closer to the heat of the fire.

"I'm sorry that you didn't have someone to-"

"Don't be. It happens. You live as long as me, and you gain and lose friends. It sucks, but you learn from it. You adapt to it," she shook her head.

He could tell her answer was true, but honesty did nothing to remove the heartache from the idea. To lighten the mood, he asked her a hopeful question.

"What kind of traditions did you come up with?"

She smiled at the redirection and continued on with her craft. He took notice of her gratefulness.

She hummed while thinking about what she should answer first. "Well, one of my favorite traditions is getting a new book on Christmas night and staying up until I finish it. Whether that be 3 am or the beginning of Christmas morning itself. But I didn't come up with that one. I learned it from a friend I made in Iceland. It's called Jolabokaflod."

"That's gibberish."

"Gibberish is just an excuse to say you don't know a language. Of which you know seven."

"Icelandic is not one of them."

"Svo virðist sem þú eigir eftir að læra," she replied, and he looked at her befuddled, and she paused her task to translate. "You have some studying to do."

"That I do, and of which you definitely have me beat out. You finish a book in a night, though?" Bucky chuckled, watching as she carefully added another cranberry and a mix of herbs like rosemary and sage.

"Yup," she popped her p. "I got the concentration of a steel trap. Most of the time..."

"Impressive," he nodded, leaning back into the couch as he looked at her from a new angle. "What about-"

"What about you?" She cut him off.

She was good at this. Anytime Bucky tried to learn something about her, she would counter the question back to him and declare a back-and-forth game of 20 questions. A silent declaration, but one that had become so routine that it didn't need a verbal acknowledgment.

It always reminded him of the first time she told him her story. In order to get answers, he had to answer some of her own questions. One of which rewarded him with surprise gifts from the candy Nerds on random occasions. He had deducted she had kept a stash of them somewhere or had them shipped to her specifically for him since they weren't sold locally.

The look he gave her when she peeked over her shoulder at him was one showing he knew what he trapped himself into. Not that he would ever try and find an escape from these types of conversations. They were some of his favorites.

"Let's see," he laid his head back on the back of the couch while Y/N stayed concentrated on the craft in hand.

The crackle of the fire grew in the center of the living room and was beginning to overpower the light sounds of a vinyl playing in the corner.

"What was a family tradition of yours?" she prodded.

He thought for a second. Then, one with his sisters made him smile.

"My siblings, all younger than me, and I would do a puzzle the night before Christmas. It would be my little brother and I and my two sisters against each other. The winner got the first cup of hot chocolate and got to choose what type of cookies we set out for Santa."

"Oh?" she hummed in comfort. "What kind of cookies would you all pick?"

He had to think for a second. It had been a long time since he'd had to think back to times like that. The celebrations stopped for multiple decades, and he just recently got back into some of the normality of being a regular person in the world.

"When it was my turn, I would pick molasses cookies," he softly grinned at the ceiling at the fond memory and how warm it made him feel inside. "When it was my brother's turn, it was oatmeal cookies with nuts and raisins." Y/N could feel his disgust for the specific cookie, but it fell at the joy the thought brought him. "My sister, Rebecca, who was about 4 years younger than me, chose a different one every time, but if she couldn't make her mind up, she'd always pick the orange drop cookie. And my youngest sister would always ask for Ice Box cookies because she loved baking them personally and giving them to strangers."

"I love that."

Bucky noticed that she was no longer sitting on the edge of the couch cushion for easier reach to the pieces of her garland. She was now sitting up with her back touching the side of the couch opposite of him and watching him as he rediscovered fond memories.

"My youngest sister was an angel compared to us. So much so, she got us started on a tradition of baking a mass amount of the winning cookie of the year and donating it to girls' and boys' homes in our area," he continued smiling at Y/N as she stared admirably at him.

"You must really miss her," Y/N spoke with a kind expression.

"I miss them all," Bucky sighed, slouching in his spot more. "I miss being naive and feeling like the Universe would protect me at all times and days and memories like these were closer in my past to me."

"That would be the dream, wouldn't it..." Y/N agreed after a minute of soaking up that truth that escaped his mind and joined them in the real world. "But here we are. Chosen by the Universe itself to be the protector we didn't have for ourselves."

Bucky thought about it, and she was right. It sucked how it all happened, but because of it, he saved lives while getting to fight alongside his best friend. There had been some really unfortunate trials and fights to get to this point, but he was alive, and he had more freedom now than he ever thought he would.

"Your turn," he nudged her shoulder, handing her the last slices of dehydrated oranges he had.

"Ok..." she thought, taking it and thinking back for a second. "Oh, for Thanksgiving at the compound, I would go to local small businesses in the New York area and buy all different types of foods from all kinds of ethnicities and have the whole team sit down and eat together. Of course, most of the time, it wouldn't be on the actual day of Thanksgiving since missions never take a holiday off. But when we had some time where I knew all of us would be there, I would set up the table and trick everyone into coming and enjoying each other's company."

"Sounds like a harmless trick to play on them," he grinned. "What was your favorite dish you brought?"

"There was this Mexican hole-in-the-wall restaurant that made bundles of tamales and tortillas. I would buy extra of those and freeze the tamales for after-Thanksgiving indulgences," she chuckled. "Wanda always liked a Sokovian desert that this one bakery had perfected. Steve and Sam would eat just about anything, but Steve more so for the experience of learning about different cultures. Sam did it 'cause I'm pretty sure his stomach is a bottomless pit."

"All of that sounds accurate," Bucky laughed, watching her as she put the supplies on the coffee table in front of them and got comfortable in her seat. "When was the last time you were able to do that?"

She looked to the fire, and he took the pause to hand her a blanket thrown on the arm of the couch by him. She thanked him before answering.

"It's been at least a decade now... If not longer," her tone sadder at the realization.

He noticed the drop in her voice and could tell that though she loved being out on her own and away from the world's chaos, especially in the city destined to constantly be a target, she missed simpler times with her friends. She missed those family-oriented holiday traditions. The normalcy that happens in between the chaos.

An idea sparked. One he wasn't sure he could pull off, but maybe... He'd have to wait until later tonight, when she was asleep, to make a call.

"Ok, your turn," she leaned her head on the back of the couch as they settled for a long night of back-and-forth questions.

"For Thanksgiving at my house, we'd always invite Steve and his mom over to join us. Then Steve and I would steal the wishbone and break it ourselves in my room," Bucky said with a nostalgic smile. "He always felt bad for stealing it, but my sisters were disgusted by touching a slimy bone, and our parents were too caught up in conversation to care."

_________________

Like most nights, they stayed up late talking and talking about anything that came to mind and followed wherever the discussion went.

The next morning, when Y/N was the first one up for a change, Bucky smelled the sweet scent of cinnamon in the air.

"Look who finally decided to wake up," Y/N teased when she heard him shuffle in.

"Hard to sleep in when you wake up to the smell of," he moved to hover over her shoulder, and his nose proved was right. "Fresh baked cinnamon rolls."

"Yeah, after talking about our favorite breakfast foods last night, I couldn't stop thinking about them. So instead of attempting to go back to sleep, I got up and started baking," she shrugged, turning over her shoulder to point at something. "Can you hand me that jar of brown sugar?"

Bucky nodded, passing the glass jar to her. She noticed the coffee she had started over in a drip cylinder.

"No tea this morning?" he asked.

"Hmm?" She broke her concentration from the rising dough. "Oh, yeah. Well, it felt like a coffee kind of morning. Plus, I know you prefer that over tea."

"I don't mind tea," he noted as he grabbed a mug and started pouring the dark liquid into it. He hadn't wiped the rim of a glass once since coming here. She noticed, and every time, it made her combust with happiness at his trust and comfort in her how.

She had learned one night after asking about the routine that he was paranoid about being drugged or poisoned. It was a tactic Hyrda had used on some of their enemies, and having been the one to carry it out on a few occasions, he had always wiped the rim of a glass before using it. Here though? Here, he never felt that fear. Here, it was safe.

"Yeah, but you like coffee more." She opened the oven door and placed the pan of cinnamon-dusted rolls onto the hot rack.

Bucky nodded in agreement and leaned back on the counter as he took the first sip of the brown liquid.

"So, I have a few plans for today," she went on to explain. Grabbing her own mug, already half-drunk, she stood next to Bucky in the same stance along the counter. "I thought we could go into town and get some wood for a new project I want to do. You up for it?"

"What kind of project were you thinking?" he asked, looking down at her where their shoulders almost touched.

"I want to make a new built-in bookshelf in my room."

"Don't you already have multiple walls made for that? In your room, too? And it's already filled with books..." he grinned with a raised eyebrow.

"You're not making any opposing arguments that actually fight my reasoning. You just listed reasons why we need a new shelf. It's full," she bumped his shoulder with hers and took another sip of her coffee.

"We might as well just build an entire library onto your house," he laughed.

"Now, don't go tempting me with a good time," she scoffed, jumping to sit on the counter's edge.

Bucky laughed before turning and facing her.

"I'm more than willing to help. One condition, though," he bargained.

"Condition? Since when do we set conditions?"

"It's one that I think you'll be happy with in the end," he pinched her knee.

"In that case," she jeered, "please, go on."

"First, it includes packing a bag and trusting me that I would never put you in a situation that I didn't think you would be happy with," he answered with a gleam in his eye that he hoped would keep her trust in him.

"The wording of this condition worries me slightly, but I'm listening..."

_______________________________

After discussing some of the key details of his plans, without giving too much away, he convinced her to pack a bag, and she took him up on his offer to fly her to a mystery location.

It was a long flight, but she was happy that Bucky had planned it once Y/N had figured out where they were headed.

"Y/N!" Lori shouted, coming down slowly from her porch.

"Lori!" she cheered back, running to embrace her friend carefully.

Bucky grabbed their luggage from their cab and thanked the driver as they reconnected. He smiled at the reunion, taking his time grabbing everything before he made his way toward the two.

"What happened to you visiting more?" Lori pulled back enough to see Y/N's face.

"Stop going on tours, and I will have some time to actually come to see you," Y/N sassed back.

"You make it sound like I'm an international popstar," the older friend chuckled, waving her off before turning to go back in the house.

"Might as well be. I'm surprised your book is just now blowing up even after being out for a few years." Y/N looked back, seeing Bucky close behind, and waited until he was closer to follow her. She offered help, but he shook his head, taking on the load himself. "How many TED Talks have you given now?" Y/N rolled her eyes at the stubborn man but had learned it was best just to surrender than argue when it came to his chivalry.

"I'm going to conferences and talking about my book on Education after the Blip. Not giving Ted Talks," Lori rolled her eyes, opening the front door and moving out of the way for her and Bucky.

"Sounds to me like you're giving motivational and educational talks to people who want to learn and understand a subject better. Last I checked, that qualifies as a Ted Talk."

"Oh, enough," Lori was quick to humble her. She smiled at her guest once they were in the house and their luggage was put to the side. "Less talk about me and more talk about you. How have you been?"

"More talk about you soon," Y/N opposed. "But I've been doing really well. It helps that this guy likes to give me visits and keep me from becoming a full-time hermit," she pointed back to Bucky with a wink.

"Correction. We've just turned into hermits together," he smirked back, taking up two of the larger suitcases with ease. "I'll get these sorted in the guest rooms, Lori. You ladies, go catch up." He did as said and disappeared, only coming down again for the remaining bags as Y/N and Lori moved toward the kitchen.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think something is going on between you two," Lori whispered as she turned the corner, moving to a crockpot Y/N knew her famous hot chocolate sat in, waiting to be served.

"What makes you say that?" Y/N hummed, not quite denying, but also not giving into the trap she knew her friend was setting.

"Must I say," she chuckled, ladling a serving into a mug for Y/N. "I mean, I can give examples just from him planning this whole trip, him staying with you, and how he treats you as if those aren't obvious enough. But his eyes? His eyes tell all."

"It's," Y/N paused, looking at the entrance of the room, sensing he was still upstairs, though with his hearing, he could possibly still hear them. "It's been nice company. I'm not going to lie, though. There may or may not be some lingering stares and playful banter on the brink of flirting..."

"So things may just progress?" Lori grinned widely. "In all my time of knowing you, I haven't seen this kind of affection in your eyes."

"We have plenty of time for things to grow, Lor. As of right now, I'm just happy he hasn't gotten sick of me and still like hanging out with me at the cottage."

"Again, I state. With those eyes? You won't have to worry about that being an issue, my dear..."

______________

About an hour had passed of catching up, and two bottles of wine were polished off between the three. A knock at the front door sounded, and Y/N turned to a tipsy Lori, sipping out of her last glass.

"Are you expecting someone?" Y/N asked.

"Oh yes! They're here a touch early, but would you mind grabbing it, Y/N/N?" Lori asked as she went to the kitchen to grab something.

What Y/N didn't see as she left the room was the shared look that her older friend and Bucky had shared.

Before opening the door, she knew. She knew who was waiting behind it. And because of that, she opened it with a new sense of excitement.

"Wanda? Vision?" she questioned, caught off guard. "Wanda and Vision!"

"Hey, Y/N/N," Wanda chuckled before being thrown into a big bear hug alongside Vision.

"Oh my goodness..." she squeezed them. "I didn't think I'd see you guys so soon."

"Yeah, well..." Wanda chuckled, looking behind Y/N and seeing Bucky.

Y/N turned to see what she was looking at, and a surprised smile marked her mouth.

"This was you?" She turned to the brunette.

"Someone gave me the idea," he answered, with a shrug and hands in his pockets.

"Oh! And we brought that Sokovian sweet bread from that bakery that you always used to wrangle up," Wanda jumped in.

"You guys..." Y/N beamed, moving out of the way for the two to come in.

Everyone made their way to the kitchen, and as Y/N opened another bottle of wine for the newcomers, Vision mentioned going and grabbing something out of the car.

Minutes later, mid-sentence, Y/N perked up as the door opened. Wanda and Bucky shared a look that showed they knew she had picked up on the new presence.

Jumping around the corner to the entry, an elated shout rang.

"Nat! Banner! Clint and Laura!" The sound of her feet bouncing up and down on the wood floors sounded from the hallway.

Wanda chuckled while taking a sip as Y/N went about talking to the new group of people.

"When is everyone else coming?" she asked quietly.

"Should be close behind. The only people behind schedule are Peter and Happy because Peter needed a ride," Bucky answered.

"Steve?!" They heard shouts next from the foyer.

"No need to get up, I guess. She's announcing everyone for us," Lori laughed, filling her glass halfway.

"Which means," Bucky paused as what he suspected happened next.

"Samuel! Zazu!" she shouted, the second name louder.

"Yup. Birdbrain is here," Bucky sighed with a smile, closing his eyes and chuckling at the nickname.

As planned, everyone arrived with a serving from a local restaurant. By the time everyone's dishes were laid on the kitchen island for a buffet-style Thanksgiving meal, there was little counter left to see.

As stories were shared left and right, and at some points, five different discussions going on at once, the reunion gathered in the backyard for a bonfire.

Steve and Sam walked with Lori to the shed to bring back a bundle of firewood while Clint started the fire.

Nat, Laura, and Wanda were sitting and catching up after not seeing each other for the last few months. Vision was giving riddles to Parker, and he was eating up the conversations and conspiracies that followed. Happy was just vibing in the lawn chair he brought along to avoid the hard logs and was close to falling asleep with the warm fire keeping him nice and comfortable. Steve, Banner, Clint, and Sam sat around the other half of the circle, eavesdropping on Vision and Peter's conversation and adding commentary here and there.

Y/N was watching as everyone who made the surprise possible, and her heart soared with pure joy. It had been so long since there was a time they could hang out like this, and there wasn't a mission on the back of all their minds.

The utter peace radiating off everyone confirmed that they were all present and weren't worried about returning to the life they had grown accustomed to. They were in a happy space, and she could tell they weren't taking it for granted.

"Here," Bucky snuck up behind her, coming back out from inside, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, securing it in the front for maximum warmth.

She had noticed in her spaced-out state that everyone had cocooned into their own blanket and were snuggled together on the logs they shared with friends, laughing and enjoying the company.

"I don't need-" she started, as he knew her powers kept her warm.

"Humor me," he poked her side as he sat next to her on the log. "Let a guy have an excuse to ask you if you're willing to share a blanket 'cause there weren't enough for everyone."

She grinned up at him at his request and obliged by opening the blanket up and motioning him to join her in the warmth. "Bucky, would you like to share this blanket with me? I wouldn't want you getting cold, my dear," she added with a flutter of her eyelashes for extra measure.

"I knew there were good women out there," he dramatically shivered and sat in the space she had created. He moved the end of the blanket she had offered around his shoulder and scooted to where their hips connected. "You know I don't really need it myself. I tend to run like a furnace." She laughed and nodded.

Once snuggled together, Y/N laid her head on his shoulder as they both watched the group connect and bond in a way she wished they had more time for.

"I would have offered it anyway," Y/N said after a few minutes of silence.

"I know you would have," Bucky replied softly.

Another comfortable silence passed as they stayed in their family's festivities.

"Thank you. For thinking of me like this," she spoke in a whisper, wrapping her arm through his under the blanket and pulling her body closer to his. He welcomed it by placing a hand on her arm and gently running his thumb over the exposed skin on her wrist.

Natasha let out a belly laugh as Banner returned from inside wearing an old knitted sweater with hearts littering it after an incident from a wine spill.

"No thank you's necessary. I was more than happy to do it," Bucky replied.

"But it's because you're happy to do it that I'm thankful." She sat up enough to look up at him, and he kept her eye contact. "And I know it couldn't have been easy gathering the troops for a time like this. For that, truly, thank you."

Bucky studied her features in the firelight, and in his analysis, he noticed the slightest tinge of color on her cheeks. His lips turned up higher in a grin when he saw her visibly blushing and struggling to keep eye contact. He had somehow made her nervous.

"Y/N, you look really lovely right now," he said with a playful smirk. It did exactly what he meant to do as the blush on her cheeks raised in contrast.

"You're a charmer, Sargent Barnes," she cleared her throat, trying to hide her face as she nuzzled back into the blanket and burrowed into his side.

"I'm particular about who receives it," his hand came to rest on her knee and squeezed it as she laid her head back on his shoulder.

Silent comfort passed as they stayed intertwined in a new atmosphere with each other.

"I'm really happy Earth gave us a couple more decades here than everyone else because I'm not sure life would have been the same if we didn't run into each other at some point in time. Even if it did take over a hundred years," Y/N mumbled for Bucky to hear.

"My age has definitely had a longer cons list than pros most days, but I can agree that's going down as a pro," he replied, laying his head on top of hers.

"How many lists do you have in that head of yours?" she chuckled, and he could feel the vibration of her joy tingle throughout his body.

"After meeting you, about fifty more than before," he answered truthfully. She gasped and sat up, looking at him. "You think I can remember all the witchy facts you drop on a daily basis without making a special place in it in my head?" he tapped her own temple as he made his point. "The photographic memory comes in handy then."

"Well, in that case, I have some list for you too, Bucko," she hummed, placing her head back on his shoulder.

"Should I be concerned?" he laughed.

"Only time can tell," she scooted as close as possible as she could into his side, and he followed the gesture by placing a kiss on the top of her head.

"Good thing we have a lot of it," he hummed into her hair, getting a squeeze from her hand, moving to intertwin in his own.

"Good thing indeed."

Everest Tags:

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @annazierden

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu @enchantedbarnes

#bucky barnes x enhanced reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #justkending #everest #marvel series #marvel au #marvel x reader series #marvel x reader #everest epilogue

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breannasfluff · 2 years

Text

Healing (2): Encantober 15

Julieta sighs and rubs the paper list in front of her. She writes a new one every week. Some of the items don’t change, but after thousands and thousands of meals; it all blurs together. Is it age that leads to forgetfulness? Or repetition? Will she wake up one day and forget a recipe?

What happens when she’s too tired and broken down to cook anymore? Who will keep the town healthy? Julieta won’t live forever even on her cooking. Someday, the Encanto will be left dependent and helpless.

At least when she’s dead, she can rest.

But the Guzmán’s are coming for dinner and the chances of her expiring on the spot are slim. Time to peel some potatoes.

“Who wants an elephant ear?”

Julieta’s call elicits a shriek from Antonio and curious questions from Isabela and Luisa.

“Tía, did you KILL an elephant?” Antonio’s shoes skid on the tile as he slides into the kitchen.

“Kill an—of course not, Toñito!” She reaches out to pat his head before realizing her hands are covered in flour. “I don’t kill animals!”

His eyes narrow. “Didn’t we eat chicken in the soup last night?”

“That was…” Shoot, what should she say? “Um, chicken from the market. I’m not killing elephants. Have you ever seen an elephant in the Encanto?”

Luisa and Isabela enter, arm in arm. “Do you think I could lift an elephant?” Luisa asks.

“Do you want to lift an elephant?” Isabela counters. “Aren’t they, like, dirty?”

“You’re thinking of hippos.”

Appeased that no elephants were being harmed, Antonio plops down at the table. “I learned something really interesting about how hippos mate! Want to hear?”

“NO!” Isabela slaps a hand over Antonio’s mouth. “No one needs to hear—ew! Did you lick me?” She yanks her hand away and wipes it on Luisa’s shirt. Luisa ignores her to pull out a chair.

Free from silence, Antonio starts again. “So when a boy hippo wants to get a girl’s attention, he poops—”

“Antonio,” Julieta breaks in with a stern look. “We don’t say ‘poop’.”

His face scrunches in consideration. “The hippo…puts doo-doo in the water. And if he really likes the girl, he—”

Julieta cuts him off with a slice of fruit before she loses all interest in cooking. “That’s…fascinating, Antonio, but don’t you want to hear about the elephant ears?”

Easily distracted, he nods through the mouthful of fruit.

“I found a recipe in an old cookbook and thought I’d try it out. An elephant ear is a sort of thin fried bread that you top with sweets.”

Isabela leaves off from putting flowers in Luisa’s hair at the word. “Sweets? What kind?” She has the biggest sweet tooth in the family, save perhaps Bruno.

Julieta gestures at the supplies on the counter. “Butter, cinnamon and sugar, fruit, thick cream; really anything you want.”

“I want chocolate shavings and ice cream!” Antonio’s standing in his chair, waving both arms for attention.

Ignoring the fact that neither of those are items out, Julieta nods and reaches for chocolate to shave. “Luisa? What about you?”

“Just…butter, cinnamon, and sugar, please!”

“So plain!” Isabela nudges her shoulder. “Live a little!”

Luisa gives a prim sniff. “I’ll stick to classical food, thank you very much. You’re always eating weird things now.”

It is, unfortunately, true. Free from the structure of perfection, Isabela embraces a much wider palette. She’s already up and rifling through cabinets. “Peanut butter and…jalapenos! Aha, I knew we had some.”

Julieta considers if her daughter really came from her womb, or if maybe she was switched at birth. Still, she holds her tongue and turns to roll out the dough. “I’ll try mine with some mangos in the sauce I made but, ah, you go for it.”

“Mangos?” Isabela pauses to look in the bowls. “I want to add some of those, too.”

By the time the elephant ears are done and prepped, Isabela’s is piled high with questionable choices. In addition to peanut butter, peppers, and mango, she added chili powder and coconut. “For crunch!”

Antonio adds half a bar of chocolate into the middle of his ice cream like he hasn’t already coated it in shavings. Ah, well, Pepa will have to deal with him later. Julieta and Luisa’s at least are edible.

“Tía?” Camilo comes into the kitchen, frowning at his arm. “I got a pretty bad scrape, got anything that will help—“ he cuts off, eyes widening at the snacks on the table. “What are those, can I have one, and why didn’t you invite me?”

“They’re—”

“Quick, open up!” Isabela cuts Julieta off and shoves a bit at Camilo. He eats it on instinct. Since Julieta made the dough, it heals like any of her other food. It does not, however, counteract the topping choices.

“Isabela! What did you make me eat? That's disgusting!”

“It’s avant-garde!” Isabela darts around the table as Camilo chases her.

He makes a face. “My taste buds are confused! This is torture, why would you ruin perfectly good food?”

Unnoticed, Luisa slides another slice of chocolate to Antonio. He passes back a shiny pebble in payment.

“Why is my mouth burning?” Camilo throws himself at Isabela, who squeals and uses her vines to escape.

“Aren’t you always saying how spicy you are when you flirt?”

With an inarticulate howl, Camilo transforms and tackles Isabela to the floor.

AO3 Here

#encantober #healing #julieta madrigal #luisa madrigal #isabela madrigal #antonio madrigal #encanto #my writing

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howdytherepardner · 9 months

Text

January 1, 2024.

It is just after noon, and I am sitting at a coffee shop in DC, just a few blocks from Sarah's apartment. I imagine I could have hung out for a while longer, but I figured it would be good to give her a good amount of time to herself before she starts work tomorrow. It was a nice and relaxed weekend, yesterday being exclusively a fancy-ish brunch buffet with the kind of cinnamon rolls that occupy Platonic ideals. Cream cheese frosting was not gobby, and still powdered sugar sweet like I know - just a nice bit of flavor. Cinnamon caramel underside was just before burnt and immaculately done. Everything else was great too, but the plate I gave myself was a blur. All that is to say, the kind of brunch that starts and ends your day.

Beyond seeing some of her friends the night prior, and Sean the day before that, it was mostly just chilling. There is a tepid awkwardness that hangs over an apartment during such a visit, but that is something that I have come to quite enjoy. An unspoken distance, and all that jazz. We talked about our lives and recent ex-loves, and I think we know very well how to commiserate with each other, though she usually has more action-oriented advice for me. Such as it is.

I will be getting a bit of carrot bread [sic] and a cup of coffee in a moment, and I will sit and type for as long as that moment allows. Perhaps as long as Stranger in the Alps has left. I suspect I will then wander around DC for a bit longer, maybe peer a bit on the other side of the train station, before returning to it for a long sit inside before a long sit on the Northeast Regional before a medium sit on the 2/3 before a quick walk home. It'll be late, and I imagine I'll sleep in later, but the rest of my life presumably starts after that.

The people seated at and near the counter are hugging as they say goodbye. The sincerity and love that a parting, an ending that happens ironically just as the year gets started, can bring. If anything else, this weekend and other recent conversations have given me some sense of optimism about knowing other people. I have sat with a push given to me (in truth, a push away) to connect with other people and wondered in what way that was made for me. I feel warmed by the promises to see each other and visit, and even if they are unrealized, knowing that you have some key to their time and place is itself quite comforting and generous.

In weaker moments, which can come with great frequency, I believe that I am the only one in my relationships with people who maintains them, and thus feel saddened in the consequent belief that these are not relationships and simply fabrications of my own hopes. In this framework, when a friend is in fact kind and takes effort to reach out to me, that act becomes impossible to believe as real. It must be that they hold underlying motives, expecting me to provide something of value to them. It would be conveniently validating to my own tendency for self-sabotage and total isolation if this were true.

But it is really unimaginative, as a world view, and a falsehood when I have seen the hints of a more connected life. Perhaps it is such that when I am older, I will be content in obscurity and far from those that I have known. But that is not the only thing I have worked for, and so many choices I have made in my life are in hopes of an alternative. I will not ignore what is past and I will not ignore the future to come. And therefore I must honor who I am now, and be steadfast for the people of my life in whom I have come to so sincerely believe. They are the rare light in this world that casts no shadow.

0 notes

droopycoquette · 3 years

Text

Perfect || Wooyoung x reader

Summary: Wooyoung does something. Now you're mad at him.

Warnings: fluff, Wooyoung being a little shit, feelings of hangriness

Word count: 1343 words

|*|

You sprinkled some cumin into a bowl, you were attempting to make BBQ wraps and right now you were working on the seasonings. As you read the ingredients off the recipe book you blinked the sleep out of your eyes.

"Hey Wooyoung," you called as you rinsed your hands. "What time is it?"

"Um, 3:30," he called back. "Why?"

"I just want to know," you answered as you came up behind him sitting on the couch.

"How're the wraps coming along," he asked, craning his neck to see you.

“I would say that they’re coming along nicely, although I might be biased,” you joked.

“I want to see,” he concluded before jumping up and going to the kitchen with you hot on his trail.

“Wait up, please don’t touch anything,” you called out.

“Okay okay. Jeez chill,” he chastised.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a walking tornado as a boyfriend,” you muttered under your breath as you finally caught up to him.

“What spices are you using,” he asked as he picked up a spice.

“I just told you not to touch anything,” you deadpanned, reaching for the container in his hand.

“Why the hell are you putting cinnamon in BBQ wraps?”

“I accidentally mistook the cinnamon for the paprika. The containers look similar, now give it back before you spill it,” you informed him, plucking the spice away from him. “Now, go back to whatever you were watching and leave me and this poor kitchen alone.”

“But I don’t want to,” Wooyoung pouted before hopping on the counter and grabbing the bowl of thinly sliced beef.

“Wooyoung,” you barked as you finally set everything down.

“I’m just holding it,” he smirked.

You sighed, deciding to ignore him and go back to mixing the spice together so you could finally marinate the meat.

You sprinkled some more salt after adding chili powder, knowing how much Wooyoung liked spicy foods.

“You need more chili powder than that,” he whispered into your ear.

You jumped up, the shock from how fast Wooyoung moved still paralyzing you for split second. Wooyoung took the opportunity to snatch the chili powder away from you.

“Wooyoung,” you growled trying to take the spice away from him.

He held his hand out to keep you at arm’s length and he began to laugh while shaking the container over the bowl of mixed spices.

“You’re not the only one eating the food, you dumbass! Cut. It. Out!”

He looked at you and saw you walking towards him and so he turned to run. And in doing so, knocked the red plastic bowl off of the counter which landed on the floor with a huge thump. The scent of sriracha, mixed spices, and cooking wine filled the air, burning your noses and making your eyes water.

“Oh shit,” he frowned. “I’m so-”

“It’s fine,” you sigh, inwardly seething.

You had already had a long day and had hoped to calm yourself by cooking a new recipe you had found. But, now that that was ruined you could feel all the stress of the day building and boiling in your stomach.

“I’m just going to set this here,” he stuttered, setting the container of chili powder onto the counter and bending over to clean up. “Is there anythin-?”

“Get out of the fucking kitchen,” you growled trying to contain your anger and not yell.

“Yes Ma’am,” he sighed before sulking away to your room.

“God damn it,” you whined as you grabbed some paper towels.

There was no more chili powder or gochujang, you had used the last of it on this recipe so you couldn’t attempt to remake it. You huffed as you felt the slight singe in your nose making you back up.

“Fucking hate this,” you muttered to yourself as you walked around trying to find a mask. “I’m never letting Wooyoung into the kitchen ever again.”

Eventually, you got the spices off the floor but the smell lingered in the air making your stomach rumble and your mouth water. You had never been more hangry in your life.

“Baby,” Wooyoung whispered as he peeked his head around the corner.

You turned around to face him, a scowl etched onto your face.

“Oh, y-you’re still mad,” he stuttered embarrassed.

“What do you think,” you growled, hunger getting the best of you.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang. Wooyoung smiled and bolted to the door.

“Are you Wooyoung,” someone asked. “The beef bulgogi and tteokboki?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Wooyoung answered.

Your ears perked up when you heard the man’s words.

“Thank you, bye,” Wooyoung called as he shut the door.

Wooyoung rounded the living room and made his way to the kitchen to set the bags of food on the table. However, your pride stopped you from moving from your spot on the couch. Your boyfriend unboxed the food and smirked as the scent wafted through the air making your stomach hurt.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath before shifting into a new position, shoving your face into the couch’s cushions to block out the scent of meat and spicy rice cakes. “I fucking hate this.”

“Babe,” Wooyoung called out.

“Leave me alone,” you muttered.

Wooyoung picked up the box of meat and walked over to where you were sitting.

“Baby,” Wooyoung sang as he waved the box around near your head.

You groaned as the scent wafted up into your nose.

“Stop, I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“Is it working,” he smirked as he sat next to you, setting the box of food on the table near the couch.

“Hmf,” you huffed as you turned away from him.

Wooyoung laid next to you and wrapped his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into the nape of your neck and placed light pecks there. His soft lips caressed your skin, each kiss was an apology.

“I’m sorry, jagi. I really am and I’m trying to make it up to you,” he huffed back at you.

You turned around to face him.

“I forgave you a long time ago I just wanted you to feel bad,” you grinned.

“You’re cruel,” Wooyoung pouted.

You giggled.

“So...are you still mad at me?”

“Hmm,” you thought before getting up and running to the table. “No.”

Before you could place a rice cake in your mouth Wooyoung lifted you up and set you on the counter.

“What if I’m mad at you now, for making me feel guilty,” Wooyoung said dawning a faux-in-thought look.

“Wooyoung,” you whined.

“Y/n,” he whined back.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, the feeling of hunger really setting in.

“You know, making your loving and perfect boyfriend feel guilty over something he already felt guilty for is really me-”

He was cut off when your stomach let out the loud groan you were holding in.

“Alright Alright, jeez,” he let up picking up a piece of tteokboki and holding it in front of your face.

You opened your mouth and savored the spicy flavor of the rice cake.

“Happy,” Wooyoung smirked.

“Thank you,” you sighed placing a kiss on his nose.

He blushed and swooned, happy that you were happy. He leaned in for another kiss, placing one hand on your back, and you happily gave it to him, smiling into the kiss. You then attempted to hop off the counter and grab the meat that Wooyoung had left by the couch.

“Where are you going,” Wooyoung asked with a rice cake in his mouth.

“Meat,” you said simply, trying to hop off the counter again.

“I’ll get it,” Wooyoung groaned. “See! Not only do I get my girlfriend food, but I’m also useful. I’m amazing and perfect!”

“Yep, Mr. Perfect,” you muttered under your breath, secretly meaning every word.

|*|

Please leave me feedback <3

#wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #wooyoung fluff #ateez fluff #jung wooyoung x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Little Bones 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Another random update of a series for y’all as I toil away at drabbles in between!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Your skin crawled as you walked to work the next morning. The memories of the night before made you cringe and tuck your chin down as you kept your eyes ahead of you. You feared if you looked around, you might summon the incessant biker from his hole.

The library was as empty as any other day and you claimed your seat at the curved desk. You booted up and sipped from your thermos, the coffee bitter on your tongue as you watched Melissa appear from the non-fiction section. She sat in her own chair and yawned as she signed on.

The monotony of Birch was sobering after the night in the dank bar. The bikers and their own little world, a microcosm of the worst types all in one place. You went about your usual tasks, there were a few returns on the cart to put back on the shelves and you walked the shelves and checked for out of order codes.

The hours slaked by like the peaks of a mountain against ancient gales. The stale lights made the days stretch to tedium and the grey without added to the sense of listlessness. Colin’s low snores escaped the back room and Melissa sorted through bent paperbacks in a far aisle to put out for the Sunday penny sale.

As the windows darkened, Colin gave his usual grumbled farewell and further mussed his wavy hair as he tried to smooth it out. It didn’t matter much as he covered it with the old faded Leafs toque and left through the automatic doors. His shadow was soon followed by Melissa as she looked forward to seeing her daughter and watching some new program on the local channel.

You were the last as you walked the aisles before final lock-up. The automatic doors were off as you checked for unlikely stragglers. You came back to the round desk and flipped off the lights for all but the entry way and the back office. You pushed open the door and locked the outside ones with a jangle of keys. As you turned back, you gripped the big key to the back door and shook your head.

You stepped through the space between the inner doors and stared at the man behind your desk. He sat in your chair, your purse sat before him on the counter as he shoved a large hand inside. You crossed your arms and watched Thor as he pulled out your coral coloured wallet and unsnapped it.

“What are you doing?” You asked harshly. “How did you get in here?”

He snickered and pulled out a card and lifted it up to look at it closely. He leaned back and flicked it with his thumb. “I knew you were a city girl.” He said.

“Get out. We’re closed.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I’m a busy man.” He slid the card back in place and searched the rest, uninterested by the few bills inside the fold and your various reward cards and outdated alumni ID.

“Late? You don’t seem the reading type. We don’t have that many audiobooks.” You neared and grabbed the other handle of your purse. “There’s an app for that now.”

Again, he laughed and dropped your wallet into the depths of your purse. He released it and pushed his shoulders back as you dragged the bag off the desk. He tilted his head and held up your phone in its shiny lavender case. He smirked as the screen lit up and he swiped it open. You never should have added the library as a trusted location.

“Hmm,” he turned it to face him and scrolled with his thumb, “I think you’re missing a number in here.”

“Give it.” You reached for the phone and he held it away from you like some annoying teenager. “Hey… Thor! Give me it. It’s mine!”

His blonde lashes flashed and he looked at you with delight. “Oooh, I love it when you say my name.”

“Stop. You can’t be in here and you certainly can’t--”

You swiped for the phone again and he caught your arm. He yanked you so hard you almost left the floor and you dropped your purse and keys. He held you over the counter as he twisted your wrist just a little.

“And who exactly is going to make me leave?”

He kept his thick fingers locked around your wrist as he searched your phone. You struggled with him but it only sent a violent jolt up to your elbow.

“I can do whatever I want and you can’t do anything to stop me. In fact, there’s no one in this town who can.” His jaw clenched and he locked your phone. “Well, kitten, I’m going to hold onto this.” He let go of you and stood as you retracted your arm and rubbed your sore wrist. “And when you want to be a good girl for me, you can come find me and ask for it nicely.”

“Ask? You’re crazy. It’s mine. You’re--” you sputtered.

You swallowed as his hand balled to a fist and his brow twitched. It was the first hint of anything but amusement. It was much more troubling, a slight tell. He was angry.

“I’ve been nice, kitten. I like you and your claws but don’t scratch too deep.” He warned as he backed away. “I’ll see my way out unless of course… you would take me up on my offer from last night.”

“Go. Keep the fucking phone.” You snarled and reached for your purse and the keys.

You stood and watched as he ran his tongue just below his teeth and turned away. He snaked his way through the back office and you heard the heavy metal door whine in his stead. You locked the inner doors and grabbed your jacket from the rack.

You went to the same door and hit the lights. You activated the security system and stepped out with a cautious look around the vacant parking lot. You locked the door and headed around the side of the brick building and out into the glow of the streetlights.

You could get a new phone, that was nothing, just a chunk out of your check. He could search your contacts, your apps, your phones, he’d find nothing but the pathetic life of a thirtysomething wash out. That wasn’t what worried you.

He was watching you. He had to be. He knew when you were alone and he knew how to get in. You might not see him but you were certain he could see you. You shivered and pulled your hate over your head and puffed out a cloud.

💀

You went home angry but slightly addled from the encounter. You watched over your shoulder the entire way home and locked your door with the tarnished chain. You found it hard to settle as you debated marching over to the bar and demanding your phone back and opening the wine you hadn’t touched since your impulsive purchase. You really hated Thor but you knew you could push him much further before he did something much worse.

You ignored your wrath and ate your dinner in front of the television before hiding under your covers and watching the snowfall until you fell asleep. Every night was as dull as the one before and the morning always came too quickly.

You woke and readied for your day with a cup of home-brewed Colombian roast and packed your lunch. You searched for your phone for two seconds before you remembered where it was. Your neck prickled as you thought of Thor with access to all your information and the barren social media accounts.

The snow was even deeper that day and you fought through the thick carpet. The library felt twice as far by the time you reached it and you were panting as you entered and shook off the powder. You took your usual spot at the usual time with your usual thermos and usual disillusion.

You whiled away the hours without the distraction of your phone. You realised how easily this man could torture you and not even be in the same place as you. You went searching in the aisles for something to do and scraped the gum off the bottom of the tables. A disgusting task but work nonetheless.

When the end of the day came, you were all too happy to go home and hide under your duvet with a tea and a sitcom. You hated this. You would go to the city and get a new phone if you had too. God, how much would that cost?

💀

The days slogged by and on your first free day, you were too tired to make the drive out of town. You resigned to your procrastination, instead taking a short walk down the main street to Babs’. Your usual order, but cinnamon instead of caramel in your latte, and a scone to enjoy at home.

The snow remained as thick as days before. You looked out the bakery window in dread as you awaited your order at the end of the counter. You still caught yourself reaching for your phone. If you waited too long, you might not even be able to make it into the city. Well, you could always order something online.

The door chimed as Steve’s girl came to the other side of the counter and placed your latte out for you. She smiled and you thanked her but her eyes rounded as you heard boots come close. You turned, barely surprised by the man who was better described as your shadow those days.

Since his visit to the library, Thor had made himself known in several instances, every day as you walked home he was outside the asp, watching. Other times, he’d be waiting by the steps of the library, mocking you silent as he pulled out your phone. You had too much pride to ask for it back and you knew that it would take more than asking.

You tried to sidestep him and he blocked your path. The foam pushed out through the hole in the plastic lid and you sighed.

“What do you want?” you hissed.

“I should ask you. I don’t know many girls these days can go days without their lifeline,” he taunted, “You know, it’s dangerous how much of ourselves we keep on these little things.”

He patted his jacket where he no doubt had your phone hidden. You looked down at your latte and thought of popping the lid off and tossing it at him. That wouldn’t be any good. You shrugged and looked past him.

“I gotta go--”

“Is there anything I can get you, Thor?” Steve’s girl eked out as if her voice could barely fit through her windpipe.

“I’ve come for something sweet but I think I found it,” he smirked, his eyes stuck to you.

“Give it up,” you scoffed and elbowed past him. He chuckled and followed you to the door as you sped up, your treads squeaking on the salt-stained floor.

“On you? Never,” he purred as you pulled the door open and he caught it behind you.

“You can break the phone for all I care,” you snarled, “just leave me alone.”

He kept up with you as flakes gathered on your scarf and you peered down the street and ran across. His boots crunched in time with yours as he lingered in your peripheral. You spun as you came to a stop on the other side and scowled.

“Jesus, I thought dogs were supposed to be obedient,” you snapped.

“I can be,” he winked and reached to brush the snow from the hair poking out from under your cap, “I’ll gladly get to my knees for you, kitten.”

You snapped at his hand and he pulled away with a surprised laugh. You gritted your teeth and took a step back.

“I won’t tell you again and I’m getting real tired of this.”

“You keep forgetting who you’re meowing at, kitten,” he stepped closer and you backed away again.

You turned and flitted away from him. You had not planned for him in your day off and you weren’t going to let him ruin it. You wanted to go home and enjoy your coffee, alone. However, that meant leading him to your front door. You stopped again.

“Go,” you pointed across the street at the Asp, the town’s marquee.

“Oh, kitten, you’re so cute,” he tugged on your scarf and you swatted him away.

“Alright, that’s it!” you smashed your cup against his chest and the hot liquid steamed as it splashed across his front and dripped down his leather jacket.

He held out his arms as he looked down at himself and slowly back to you. His blue eyes dilated as the ends of his golden hair sopped with caffeine. It was too late to apologize, too futile. You sputtered and quickly turned away.

You were thankful when you didn’t hear him behind you. You stopped and peaked back at the corner of the next side street. He watched you still and even at a distance you could see his rage.

If you hoped he’d lose interest, that optimism was dead.

💀

A snow storm stagnated the already stale town and you could guess that the highway was even worse. You could replace your sim online but that would take at least a week to arrive and with the weather, likely longer. It might be quicker to wait out the blizzard. You stayed in limbo, reluctant to pull the trigger.

You kept to your apartment for the rest of the weekend, with no reason or want to leave. On your way, you didn’t see him. You sighted a few figures through the falling powder but they were faces familiar to the streets. You kept an eye over your shoulder, glancing around every few steps.

You avoided the cafe. He might look for you there, he might even be waiting for you. You sat down at your desk but felt out of place. He could walk through those doors like he had only days before. He could taunt you and tease you. What made you so antsy was that he could do worse than that. You knew it but you’d let your temper get the best of you. A wasted latte might have cost you everything.

By the end of your shift, it was decided. You were leaving Birch. No one could know until you were gone. Not Melissa, not Colin, no one. You old all-weathers would have to get you down the highway, just to the city so you could lose yourself there until you had a real plan. Even as the snow piled higher and higher, there could be no delay. You’d waited long enough.

Paranoid, you were certain you’d be met again on your path home. The town was dead as the soft blanket covered the ground. The flakes turned to mounds and the tops of your boots let in errant clumps of snow. The store may as well been closed for the day, the library had been little different but its lethargy was expected. Even The Asp seemed to have dulled with the pale gusts.

You packed a bag. One. The apartment came furnished and you never cared much for miscellany. Anything you left behind was replaceable. You went down the back stairs and cleaned off your small Focus. Used but reliable. You were out of breath as you climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the brush in the back.

You drove carefully down the side streets, snaking around as you knew the main fair would give away your escape. You stopped at the sign that pointed to the highway ramp and wondered.

What if he had got the clue? What if you were running from nothing?

You remember the look in his eye and shivered. No, that glimmer assured you that return to your mother’s was as wise as it would be torturous. You followed the arrow and took the curve steadily with your foot planted on the gas. The traffic was slow and cautious as headlights were barely visible through the snowfall.

You gripped the wheel tightly and let out a breath. You would be gone before he knew. You’d get a new phone, a new job, a new life. Even if it was just pay-as-go, a McDonald’s visor, and your mother’s couch for a while. What good was a job in a place like Birch anyway? Just as good as your irrelevant degree.

You were startled and nearly lost control as a set of lights appeared behind you in the next lane. They were dangerously close to dinging your rear bumper as the reckless driver took a u-turn right before the upcoming barriers. You wrinkled your brow as you glared at them through the white haze. What kind of maniac was pulling shit like that in this weather?

And then, they did hit you. A nudge but enough to send you veering in the thick lines of snow. You clutched the wheel and tried to steer into it, tried to right yourself as you were knocked again. Your heart was in your throat as the engine revved and you hit your brakes, not knowing what else to do as a third collision came.

You spun out and hit the cement wall along the far lane, narrowly missing another car as it pulled ahead. You stilled, your seatbelt saving your face from a smack against the wheel, and stared down the highway as you stared at oncoming traffic. You were completely turned around on the arm.

You caught your breath and reached for your purse. Fuck, you had no phone. What was that asshole thinking? It didn’t seem like an accident.

The car that had bullied you into a crash pulled up along the barrier. You watched in the rear view as the barely visible tail lights glowed and a dark figure appeared between the car and the concrete. You squinted as the man neared, a long coat flapped around his tall figure as he held his hand to his face.

He came up beside your car as you heard his voice muffled through the glass and tapped on your window. He bent and knocked again as you shot him the finger. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind. You rolled down the window with the manual crank and growled, “what the fuck!?”

“Can I have your name, darling?” he asked in a sinisterly familiar accent.

“Screw you! You almost killed me!”

He turned his phone out as you screeched at him and quickly put it back to his ear, “that sound like her?”

A deep voice rumbled in the speaker and the dark-hair man nodded as he shielded his face from the blowing snow, “you owe me, brother.”

“Who the fuck are you?” you spat and reached to your glovebox. You grabbed the heavy flashlight and swung it at him, “get away--”

He caught with a leather-gloved hand and glared back at you. He tucked away the phone in his jacket. His nostrils flared and his green irises caught fire.

“Let’s not do this, darling,” he warned, “my brother has given me clearance to use whatever force necessary…” he pushed the button and pulled open your door as he wrenched away the metal flashlight, “and while he seems the bigger brute, I assure you his cruelty cannot match mine.”

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lilyharvord · 3 years

Text

Meet Me at Our Spot (Part 2)

F in the chat bois. YOU ALL MADE ME DO THIS, JUST REMEMBER THAT. (IGNORE ANY TIME RELATED THINGS I SAID IN THE PREVIOUS PART OF THIS LITTLE SERIES. I’m gonna go back and fix stuff to match with this one. Assume all timing things in this part are official. I’m going to say they’ve actually been dating for 1.5+ years in the first part of this fic series.) Now I have to add like 50 more parts to this cause I love this universe too. ): RIP to me and I guess to all of you since I'm slower than paint drying with updates. XD

AO3 LINK

Mare had never been one for holidays. Holidays with her family had consisted of whatever her mother could find on the shelves of stores at half price the day of, and the relief of seeing her brothers sitting on the couch instead of working. Of course, Bree was normally called in for the late night shift right after dinner, and Tramy worked up until about two hours before dinner was served. There was always just enough for them, but never an excess, leftovers were a luxury she never experienced. That had changed a bit when she moved out and started spending the holidays with friends. But it didn’t change the gnawing ache in her stomach that always came when she saw the holidays approaching on the calendar.

Shade and Farley always threw a wonderful Thanksgiving, and her brother was a better cook than all of them so the food was exceptional. And Ada’s partners worked as promotors for a vineyard up north so they got a couple free bottles of wine to try every time. Those were the holiday’s she wanted to remember, and the ones she wanted to have for the rest of her life.

Which is why, standing in her tiny kitchen sweating out of her thin sweater and jeans, she feels like a fool for trying to host one at all. Who had she been kidding to even suggest doing this?

A knock on the door startled her, and she almost jumped out of her skin. She glanced down at her jeans covered in flour and cinnamon and red chili powder before eyeing the pot of potatoes about to boil over. She had a horrible feeling that if she looked away for one second they would spill over onto the stove. The knock came again, softer this time.

No one was supposed to be at her door for at least another couple hours, which meant it was probably her neighbor— coworker, and friend—Ella coming to check on her after she heard the loud string of curse words Mare had screamed after she burned the tamales.

Grimacing and sliding around her counter to answer, Mare pushed the hairs that had fallen out of her hasty bun out of her face as she slid the chain lock off and opened the door. Her stomach lurched at who was standing in the hallway outside her apartment.

Cal had accepted the invitation to her Thanksgiving with a relieved sigh, and a promise to bring something to share. Here he was too, over two hours early and talking with Ella who was leaning against her doorway across the way. Her friend’s bright blue hair was recently dyed, and she looked cozy in her sweat ensemble. Her eyes drifted to Mare beyond Cal, and she smirked like a cat before saying, “Someone’s been busy.”

Swallowing her embarrassment at her current state, Mare tried to brush some of the flour off her jeans when Cal turned around to see her. He always dressed like he would run into someone who knew him and who would in turn report back to his father. It had only gotten worse since his promotion to his father’s position a few months ago. That dark sweater went so well with his eyes though, and he looked so clean cut that Mare blushed. His eyes widened as he took her in, before he broke into a wide grin and said, “I’d say so.”

Her embarrassment evaporated, only to be replaced with a irritable scowl that made him only grin cheekily at her.

“Do I get to come in or do I have to stand out here looking at how lovely you look for the rest of the day?” He asked when she didn’t immediately say anything.

Pursing her lips as Ella coughed to hide her laugh, Mare glared at her friend and grabbed Cal’s sleeve to yank him inside. “Shut up.” She snipped as she slammed the door closed on Ella’s cackling.

Cal glanced around at her messy apartment before moving the half used can of pumpkin puree off the edge of the counter to set the bag he had brought down. Mare rubbed her hands on her jeans repeatedly, making the mess there worse. The remainder of the puree between her fingers made them catch and pick up little flecks of her jeans there. “Sorry about the um… everything.” She turned back to the potatoes which were boiling over now. Desperately trying to stir them back down Mare grit her teeth and said, “I wasn’t expecting anyone for another couple hours.”

His arms snaked around her hips and hugging her close he set his chin on top of her head and glanced at the smorgasbord that was her kitchen stove. He smelled like the cologne she loved, the one that reminded her of fall and burning wood. He knew she loved that one too. For some reason today though, it pissed her off that he had done that. He’d put himself together so perfectly, and here she was looking for all intents and purposes like a Jack Pollok painting. His tone was laced with laughter as he pressed a soft kiss to her hair. “I figured I’d show up and help if you needed it. Looks you have it handled though.”

Her annoyance boiled over and her head snapped up so quickly she caught his throat at just the right angle so he coughed and released her to stumble back in surprise. Forgetting the potatoes, she flipped around and set her hands on her hips to jeer at him. “Do you get amusement out of making fun of me?”

His eyes widened as he rubbed his throat slowly. “No?’”

Her anger depleted, and she suddenly felt horrible for jabbing at him like that. He had been at least mostly serious. Closing her eyes and pressing the heels of her palms into them, Mare tried to hold back the burn of tears when she whispered, “I’m sorry. I just… thought you were not going to be here for a few more hours.”

The tears prickled at the edge of her senses and she pressed her palms in harder to stay them off. This was an overreaction to this situation and she knew it, but this was just too much and she should have known better than to try and make her life into something more than it was. She was no cook, that was Shade. She was no great hostess, that was Farley. She was not bubbly like her sister who always brought a sunny, warm disposition to any gathering. She was not Bree’s loud boisterous presence that had always made their pitiful living room feel so alive. She wasn’t Tramy’s gentle spirit who always brough the nicest flowers to decorate the table for their mother. She had been stupid for thinking she could handle this.

Cal’s warm hands cupped her elbows before sliding up to her wrists as he gently pulled her hands from her eyes. “How can I help? Tell me what I can do to fix whatever is wrong.”

She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid what she knew his face looked like. She hadn’t had this bad of a meltdown in front of him before. She had been angry before, melancholy, and frustrated, but never on the verge of tears. She knew he would have that face on too. The slightly furrowed brow, the pleading eyes that he wore whenever he saw someone who needed help and refused to ask. He was so good and wheedling that ask out of people when he looked like that.

“Nothing, you can’t do anything.” She pushed through her teeth and tried to pull her wrists from his grip. He squeezed tigther though, keeping her in place before pulling her closer to his body so she was enveloped in his warmth.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked gently, not a hint of animosity in his voice, just pure understanding.

“I—” She didn’t know what she wanted. How did she put into words that she wanted to be someone other than herself for just one night?

His fingers peeled off one of her wrists to tuck the stubborn hairs behind her ear again. He trailed them along her cheek before saying, “Trust me, give me some of the burden love. I can carry it as long as you need me to.”

“It’s not that.” She whispered, finally releasing the shaky breath that had been rattling in her chest for the past hour while she watched things slowly start to crumble like the pie crust she tried to make last night.

“I—I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” She let her shoulders sag with the admission, the weight leaving her chest and throat finally. He let her wrist fall as she dropped her arm, sliding his hand into hers and interlacing their fingers before squeezing gently. “I’m not the kind of person for this. I wanted it to be like everyone else’s, I wanted to be perfect and I can’t do those kinds of things.” She laughed softly, feeling at once stupid and immature for admitting that. Things were never perfect in life. People felt like this all the time, but for some reason today it had hit her hardest.

He was quiet for a little bit, digesting her words. She slid her tongue along her lower lip before turning to pull away from him. Instead of letting her go though, he pulled her into his embrace and engulfed her. Her cheek pressed into his sweater and she tensed for a moment at the sudden intimacy of the moment. Her eyes remained open as she stared at the mess on her counter.

“Do you know why I’m here this early?” He asked her quietly before sliding a hand up her back to set his hand on her head. His fingers gently slid into her hair, undoing her bun a little more. She sagged into the touch, letting her eyes drop closed finally. His laugh was tired and she felt it against her cheek as it echoed hollowly through his chest. “I’d rather be here than sitting at my father’s pretending that I’m happy to be there.”

“You love your father.” She grumbled. She didn’t understand how he could, given what the man said and did, but she supposed she should be glad he loved people like that. It meant he might still care for her someday when she did something terrible like she knew she would do. Mare Molly Barrow did not live that perfect, paint by numbers life. She always dabbed the brush a little too hard, put the wrong color in the wrong box, or purposefully threw the paint on the canvas to ruin it. She knew why too. There was a fear rooted deep within her that Cal both soothed and made worse. She fit into his life like a child’s painting surrounded by priceless artwork. Someday, someone would realize she was not like the things around her. Someday, the charm of having her would wear off and he would put her in a box in the attic where she belonged.

His sigh was heavier than the weight that had settled in her stomach. “You can love someone and still… wish not to be around them.” His words were barely a murmur, the tone an admission of shame in and of itself. She glanced up at him, a brow raised in surprise. His features were pinched but he smoothed them out quickly with the prize winning smile that he used to smother everything that made him uncomfortable.

She tilted her head at it, and drew her lips in a tight line. The smile fell and he released her to lean back against the counter. His lovely sweater was coated in a thin film of white flour and Mare tried to keep from looking at the smudge of imperfection she had created on him. What a perfect metaphor, she thought as she hugged herself.

“Maven has the right idea.” Cal murmured, his eyes glancing out the window at the cityscape.

“Maven doesn’t have your responsibilities.” Mare parroted the words Cal had told her one night while she was resting and drawing patterns on his chest with her nail. They had struck her as odd then, and they struck her as odd even now. For someone with so much apparent freedom, Cal certainly liked the bars of his cage.

Chuckling at her tone, he gave her a knowing smile. “He’s always been the smarter one of the two of us. Explains why he ran when he had the chance.”

Mare smiled at him as well, a part of her melting against him so she had the strange sensation that she was molding herself with him. Whenever that happened, Mare wondered if maybe there was a future for them. Her mother had been uncertain when Mare mentioned who she was seeing and warned her in a quiet, serious tone to be careful with her heart in this relationship. Her father had agreed, telling her that people like them mixed with the upper echelons of society like oil and water. But the more she was around Cal, the more she felt like that didn’t matter. Sure they’d had edges, prickly things that they had cut their hands on in the first few months. Yet, whenever Mare looked for those edges again, they had been sanded down while she wasn’t looking.

“Maybe you should run away for a bit too. I’m sure Volo could handle the board,” she trailed off with a tiny smile as he pulled a face.

“And doom every person in the company? I’d like to keep that off my conscience” He murmured before reaching out and pulling her close again. She let him, melting physically into his embrace and ultimately wrapping her arms around him. Every inhale brought the smell of his cologne, and every exhale soothed her a little more until most of the tension had left her body.

“Do you want me to help with the cooking?” He asked, when she had stood with him for a good few minutes. She could have kept standing there too, ignoring the more pressing concerns around her. He made it so easy to disappear from the outside world for a little bit too. Sometimes it scared her how easily she lost touch with the ground when she was with him. More and more lately though, it felt wonderful. The chance to escape from her reality had become like a drug and she sought out more every time.

“You can cook?” She asked dubiously and squinted up at him. It was a half tease. She wasn’t entirely sure if he could cook. If he could she would be impressed, but he didn’t seem like the type to know how.

Blanching at her tone, he put a hand to his heart in mock hurt. “Mare, you think so little of me?”

She laughed, pulling away to glance once more at the mess around her. “I think just the right amount judging by your reaction.”

Her potatoes had finally calmed down, and looked at least salvageable, and the turkey wasn’t as badly burned as she thought. Plenty of gravy on it would hide the dryness. The tamales were not the most salvageable thing she had made, but Shade would eat them because they were his favorite. All in all, it was not the complete disaster she thought it was.

Cal surveyed the scene with hands on his hips as he said, “I brought pie.”

“Well, congratulations, you saved my day.” She teased before pushing his shoulder and retying her hair to get it out of her eyes. The pie was more of a saving grace than she let on. She had failed to make her own, and the efforts of it were sitting in the trash.

“I like to think if I do anything right it’s that.” He managed to wrangle her back toward him, and pressed a kiss into her neck. She laughed at his words, the last of the weight leaving from her chest as he banded his arms around her waist to trap her against him.

“You smell like bread.” He murmured in her hair and she ended up laughing harder at his words, amusement rolling off her in waves. She smelled like a number of things, most probably inedible at this point. But if that was the best he could come up with, she had to laugh at him.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” She asked as she pinched one of his forearms. “I could have sworn you were a better flirt than that.”

His fingers slipped to the waistband of her jeans, and slid under them for one second. “You’re so mean to me.” He teased before kissing her neck and dipping his fingers below the waistband.

Mare inhaled sharply as his fingers trailed lower and dropped underneath her underwear. She hadn’t bothered to wear anything cute, given the fact that she thought he wouldn’t be here for a few more hours and that they’d both be so tired they wouldn’t do anything after either. She was only partially regretting it now. She had been stupid enough to fall into the societal trap of wearing whatever she considered to be her sexiest panties that week to impress him. Now he would get to witness whatever she happened to put on this morning. She could only hope it wasn’t one of the stupid days of the week ones she kept cause they were so comfortable.

“My potatoes are going to burn.” She released a breathy sigh as he dragged his fingers along her and took her full weight when her legs went to jelly for a heartbeat. It was a weak excuse and she knew it. Deep down she knew it was making an excuse to make an excuse.

“They have plenty of time. The water isn’t even below them yet.” He murmured in her ear as he squeezed her hips harder and nipped at her earlobe. She melted a little further, needing little to no persuasion anyway. Her friends all teased her about them being in the “honeymoon” phase of their relationship, and that eventually the whole having sex as much as possible thing would get old. A part of her hoped it never would. Every time there was something new she found out about him, or something he found new with her. And every time after she felt like she was floating, content just to lay next to him and talk and laugh and poke fun at him. She never tired of his smile, or the way he talked with his hands when he got especially passionate about something.

If, no when, he left—because he undoubtably would have to leave her at some point for a girl more of his station—it was going to be what she missed the most. Not the sex, although that was definitely going to be a part of it, but the little moments with him. She still remembered in crystal clear clarity the first morning she woke up in his bed. He had fallen asleep on his front, his hair tussled across his forehead. Lying like that, she had to almost hold herself back from reaching out to brush that hair away from his eyes. She had contained herself to just watching him, watching the rise and fall of his back as he breathed, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered while he dreamed. It felt like a stolen thing, a moment in time that she had taken and stashed away so no one else could have it.

The girl who ultimately got him would have an unlimited supply of those moments, but Mare would have that one, and she hoped she could be content with that.

She squeezed his forearm at the thought, a tiny bubble of sadness forming in her chest. He withdrew his hand as she turned to face him, his brows furrowing as he asked, “Unless you are still stressed about the whole thing—”

“No.” She admitted, before reaching up to cup his face and drag him down to kiss him softly. He relaxed and kissed her back, letting her take the lead and set a more temperate pace. Whenever those thoughts entered her head, she always had to go slower with him. Some illogical part of her brain reasoned that if she slowed these moments, then time would actually slow down and she would get to keep him for longer.

He leaned forward into the kiss, tipping her back until she almost lost her balance. He had never let her fall though, and he didn’t this time either. Wrapping a hand around her waist to lift her, he slid his other hand along one of her legs too. She wrapped her legs around his waist immediately and cupped his jaw to tilt his head back and keep the kiss going as long as possible. She didn’t have to voice her thoughts or how she felt, he kept the pace she did, and read her like any book or report put in front of him. They kept the leisurely pace, deepening the kiss and retreating again like waves on the shore.

He turned to the counter and with a gentle sweep of his arm pushed the empty boxes and packets to the side to make room to lay her down on the top. As he did, he put his hand in the small pile of flour left over from her pie attempt and pulled away in surprise to look at his palm. She laughed at his bewilderment until he smirked at her and dragged a hand through her hair to complete undo her bun and paint her hair with white streaks.

Mare’s laugh immediately cut off and she gasped at the audacity of his action. Without thinking she shoved her hand into the little bowl of mole sauce she planned to drown the tamales in, and painted his cheeks and lips with it. He reeled back with a laugh, earning one from her too as she turned to try and grab something else to throw at him.

He beat her to the nearly empty can of pumpkin puree, and that ended up on her stomach when he lifted her sweater and dragged his hand along her skin. Hooking his hand on the waistband of her jeans he dragged her to the edge of the counter and went to kiss her. She threaded flour in his hair as she knotted her fingers in it. She could taste the spice of the mole on his lips and she dragged her tongue along them in response, tasting it before pushing her tongue past his lips.

He grabbed the back of her knee in response, smearing flour and pumpkin puree there as well before guiding her leg around his waist and leaning over her further. She could feel the other things she’d spilt on the counter seeping into the back of her sweater and jeans, but she didn’t care. His sweater was covered in flour and some of the mole sauce that had dripped of his chin onto it. He smelled like his cologne and she let her head fall back to simply fall into the moment as he pressed his lips to her neck and kissed down to her collarbone. The whole thing was so wonderfully messy that she laughed again, so filled with bubbling amusement and joy that she couldn’t hold it in.

He lifted his head from his ministrations at her collarbone, and tilting his head to the side he watched her with a smile that she had never seen from him before. She cupped his jaw when her laughter had subsided, and admired that smile.

“I think I’m in love with you Mare Barrow.” He whispered to her, bringing her heart to a screeching stop in her chest.

Love. Dear god, love was a dangerous word. Her smile wavered, even as she tried to keep it up to avoid any awkwardness. She’d dated plenty of men, all of which she told not to throw the L word out until she did. Did she not tell Cal that? She must have forgotten. He’d never have taken that step if she had. Everything with him had been so fast though. From meeting him to the first date, to going to his father’s retirement party, to everything after. Things with him went both fast and slow at the same time, leaving her breathless more often than not. But it had only been about a year, and she was always scared to say she loved someone.

When he saw the parade of emotions that rushed across her face, he blushed and pulled back, dropping her leg and awkwardly avoiding her eye. She grimaced, chiding herself immediately for not being better at hiding her thoughts.

“Sorry, I—that just slipped out.” He took a tiny step back, and her stomach dropped.

“Cal,” she sat up immediately, reaching for his hand and squeezing when she managed to catch it. “It’s okay. I—I wasn’t ready for you to say that. I’m—” She didn’t even know what to say. She wasn’t sorry for her hesitancy. She wasn’t sure she could say she loved him yet either though. She liked him, more than she had liked any of the man she had dated for as long as she had him. But she wasn’t sure she loved him yet. Wasn’t sure she could admit to it if she did. Love seemed like… a permeant step. It seemed like finally taking the leap off the cliff and hoping her caught her on the way down. She had been burned plenty of times by men that weren’t even half the man he was, but for some reason she was so much more afraid of him burning her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He murmured, shaking his head with a little laugh. She frowned, feeling a mix of emotions she didn’t quite know how to process.

“You shouldn’t feel bad for admitting to your feelings.” She whispered, feeling like a fraud as she said it. She couldn’t even tell him the truth about her fears. Who was she to give advice like that? Still, she squeezed his fingers in reassurance and said, “You just surprised me. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was upset.”

Tugging on his hand when he didn’t immediately reply or look at her, she managed to get him to reluctantly move closer. Threading her arms over his shoulders she tilted her head to gently rest her forehead against his. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and whispered, “I don’t want you to be afraid of it. You feel what you feel. And what you feel is okay.”

“You don’t feel that way though.” It was a question almost, and she felt horrible for the way her lips lifted into a gentle smile.

“I don’t know yet. I—I really like you. You make me happy and today you really did save some of my sanity. But love is… it’s hard to explain.” She pulled back a bit, and ran her hands down his front to rest on his ribs. “I’ve been hurt by people before. I don’t want to be hurt again.”

He at least had the grace not to say he would never hurt her. Still the light she’d seen in his eyes a little bit ago dimmed, making her stomach twist with worry. She knew that at some point she would ruin this, and this must be the moment she feared.

“I’m sorry I can’t repeat that back to you yet.” She whispered as she dropped her hands to her lap and looked at her jeans. So much for the happy feeling she’d had a few minutes ago.

His hands engulfed hers in her lap before he threaded his fingers through hers gently. “I’ll wait for you then.”

She raised a brow at that and gave him a bewildered look in response.

“I’ll wait for you as long as you want me too.” He whispered before pressing a delicate kiss to the side of her mouth. “Because I think I’m falling in love with you, I will wait.”

“You’d risk me hurting you?” She asked, slightly awed and slightly worried. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him, and he was setting her up to deliver that crushing blow.

“You could never hurt me.” He admitted before kissing her gently. She blinked in bewilderment, that same warm feeling returning for a very different reason this time. She thought he would leave her if she did anything remotely like what she normally did in relationships. She had self-sabotaged enough times to know the signs, and she had certainly starting going down that path lately with him as her thought about him leaving someday became more powerful.

Pulling back from the kiss she shook her head softly and admitted, “Don’t say that. Because I will.”

“Why do you think that?” He tilted his head to the side, not a hint of accusation in his tone, just genuine confusion.

“Because I do that to everyone. I told you that.”

“You told me that you had bad relationships before.” He corrected, only to realize then the flaw in those words. He frowned then, confusion oozing from every pore in his body.

“I get scared, so I run.” The moment she said the words she wanted to take them back. Dear god what was it about that man that made admit shit like that? He seemed to draw it out of her like alcohol.

The confusion melted away only to be replaced by a teasing smile as he set his hands on her hips and pulled her closer so she was flush against him again. “Then it’s a good thing I’m a fast runner.”

“Cal I’m serious.” She shook her head in annoyance, thinking he was being unreasonable. Her words did anything but admonish him because that smile wouldn’t leave and the light was back in his eyes as he looked into her eyes.

“You’re going to have to push me in front of a bus because I don’t plan on letting you go Mare Molly Barrow.” He said as his smile widened at her perplexion. That little bubble in her chest took that moment to form again, and that part of her mind that had been hissing in fear for weeks took a cement block to the head and finally went quiet as she grabbed his face and kissed him.

He melted into her again, pushing a hand under her sweater and following the lines of her stomach to her ribs. Following the lines like they were a map, he sent shivers down her spine with every little brush of his fingers.

Breathless, she whispered against his lips, “You are so stupidly infuriating.”

“Is that supposed to be a complement?” He replied with a smile before cupping her breast over her bra, and laying her down completely on the counter. She hummed in agreement, a hint of laughter dancing on the edge of the sound as he swept his tongue through her mouth to the rhythm of his thumb on her breast.

Wrapping her arms around his neck again, she pulled him closer and arched her hips against his until he groaned in her mouth and squeezed her breast hard enough that she felt his callous through the thin lace at the cup. She smirked and pulled on his hair in response. He ground against her in agreement, murmuring her name as he fumbled with the hem of her sweater and tried to pull it over her head.

Reaching down she helped him get it over her head before sitting up again and wrapping her legs around his waist. He pushed back against her, trying to lay her on the counter again, but she latched onto him like a leech, biting his lower lip until she could feel it swelling. Dragging it between her teeth, she pulled back to take in the moment when his pupils dilated and swallowed almost all of the wonderful amber irises.

“Are you going to fuck me on the counter or do you want to do this in my shower?” She gave him a coy smile, and hooked the hem of his sweater with a finger to keep him pinned against her.

His smile was as mirror of hers until it curled into a smirk as he whispered, “Where would you like me too?” He unbuttoned her jeans without looking, tilting his head to the side slightly as he continued. “But just know if I take you to the shower, it will take a bit for us to get going there.”

“Why?” She asked with a quirked brow. They were practically on their way to getting fully undressed. I wouldn’t be difficult to remove the last layers and turn her shower on.

“Because I plan to wash every inch of you.” He teased as he began to push her slowly back onto the counter and slide her pants off. “Especially in the hard to reach places.” He added as he pressed a kiss against her hip. Smiling up at her from that position he massaged her hips with his fingers, kneading the muscles there with his knuckles.

Laughing, she propped herself up with her elbows and said with a wink, “We both know that you’re an absolute prude. Don’t pretend like you would even think to do that.”

Placing a hand in mock hurt on his chest, he said, “A prude? Mare Molly Barrow, I would have thought by now that you would know I am anything but a prude.” He smirked as he pressed another kiss against her stomach and then slowly licked the remaining puree off of her skin there.

“I thought you hated pumpkin.” She exhaled and let her head fall back on the counter, threading her fingers through his hair as he dropped his lips lower to graze above her underwear line.

“I like it on you.” He teased before nipping at her skin and sliding her underwear off as well. His breath grazed over her entrance before he pressed a kiss on the inside of her thigh. Squeezing the outside of her thighs, he dragged his tongue up her center, successfully doubling the ache between her legs so she had to dig her teeth into her lower lip to keep from groaning. He licked her again and she bucked against him, exhaling through her teeth as she tried to squirm away. He held her in place, his lips curling up into a smile against her as he angled her hips differently so she had no choice but to fall into his hands and let him support her weight.

“Mhm.” She hummed in agreement as he circled his tongue around the bundle of nerves that sent sparks along every muscle and made her curl her toes. “I like your cologne.” She said, only to cut off with a groan as he replaced his tongue with his fingers.

His laugh vibrated against her as he closed his lips around her folds, and practically sent her spiraling with the feeling. Fisting her fingers in his hair, she pulled hard enough that he grunted and bit down just the slightest bit by accident.

“Holy fuck.” She said, the words rising into a whine on the end as she arched off the counter. She pulled on his hair again, every muscle in her legs tensing as his teeth brushed harder against her.

“If you pull any harder you’re going to rip my hair—”

“Fuck me on this counter, right now.” Propping herself up on her elbows she reached a hand down to grab the front of his sweater to pull him up toward her. His pupils were almost completely dilated, and his cheeks were flushed. He held her gaze before grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her in to kiss her.

Mirroring him, she grabbed the back of his neck and threaded both hands into his hair and held him there as she closed her eyes and pressed her tongue against his teeth. He opened to her, and she got a taste of herself almost immediately while he dragged her to the edge of the counter. He struggled with untucking the shirt under his sweater to get to his belt for a second before giving up and pulling his sweater off and then pulling the undershirt off as well.

Without breaking contact, Mare trailed her nails over his chest, feeling every groove and line of muscle before pulling his fumbling fingers away from the belt. With quick hands, she undid the buckle and then the button of his pants. Throwing the belt out of her tiny kitchen space, she heard it clatter in the living space. At least this time they had kept their clothes contained to one area. Usually she had to go hunting for things.

He managed to get his pants off without her help, and blindly he pushed his fingers into her, pumping slowly and curling them against the spot that made her whine. Grinding down on his palm for more friction, she took a ragged breath and whispered against his lips, “this seems like a bad place for this.”

With a grunt, he lifted her off the counter and carried her the two steps around the counter. She kissed him the whole time, amazed at his coordination as he crouched and set her down on the carpet. Arching her back, she ground her hips against his. With a groan that he buried in her neck, he whispered her name and pressed harder against her in response. She could feel every inch of him, hard and ready.

Knotting her fingers in his hair and tipping her head back she panted, “I want you to fuck me so hard I see stars.”

He laughed softly against her shoulder, trailing his hands along her body to her hips to lift them and position her in his lap. Reaching a hand between her legs, she curled her fingers around him and pumped once, and then twice when he moaned her name. The carpet near her head balled into his fist as he squeezed it, and his fingers dug into her hip as moved with her.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” His voice rasped in her ear, breaking on the words. He nipped at her neck, and then kissed the spot in apology. She squirmed in response, giving him a few more good pumps before he replaced her hand with his own.

She exhaled as he filled her, sliding in deep enough that it ached. Her toes curled, and every nerve fired like a live wire as she arched to take more. He slid in further as she adjusted. The muscles in his back tensed underneath her hand, and she burrowed her nails into his skin to urge him on. This was the part of him she liked the most. He always let her lead, and not because of lack of experience on his part, but simply because it was what he did with her.

Thrusting all the way in, he murmured her name as he pulled out to push in again. Mare tightened her legs around his hips in agreement, and closed her eyes as she propped herself up a little to change the angle. He hit a spot that made stars explode behind her eyelids, and she moaned in pleasure as the hit traveled all the way up her body.

“Good?” He asked in her ear as he pulled out and thrust in again to punctuate his question.

“Yes.” The word was a drawn out whine as she arched against him and pressed her forehead to his. It was all the permission he needed.

With a yank he lifted her hips out from underneath her so she fell back against the carpet with a gasp. Bracing a hand by her head, he thrust in her hard enough that her back skidded over the carpet. In the back of her mind, she realized that she was probably going to have a horrible rug burn, but then he moved again and his hips snapped against hers and she lost all touch with reality.

It became just the two of them, moving in perfect tandem. The sounds of the traffic outside faded to a dull murmur until the rasp of their shared breaths and the sound of her pleasure as he painted stars behind her eyes was the only thing that existed. With her eyes closed she went by smell and feel alone, scoring her nails down his back as he bent over her and sucked at her neck. His cologne was drowning her. She’d never felt safer though, buried underneath the weight of his body and surrounded by the smell of autumn and home. For as long as she could remember he smelled like that. Like home, like the time of the year when she used to come home and her mother was waiting with a little fire and warm soup for her chilled hands.

Behind her eyelids, the past mixed with an impossible future. Little amber eyed babies with black and brown hair held out expectant hands for a bowls of soup after they walked back from the bus stop without their mittens because they left them at home by accident. Cal’s hands wrapped around hers while they kneaded dough for empanadas like Mare had seen her father do so many times with her mother. Tears burned behind her eyes even as she approached the point where she was going to shatter under him. That future seemed so improbable, so far away that it was almost a mirage. An unfair illusion and trick that her mind played on her.

She dragged a hand through his hair, and buried her face in his shoulder. Her insides curled as he continued to drive into her, whispering sweet nothings with a shaky voice. Sweat had made both of them slick, and it hid the first tears that rolled down her cheeks and into her mouth. Their salt mixed with the taste of him as he turned his head and captured her lips with a kiss.

His hips snapped against hers and she moaned into his mouth as she shattered like glass and melted in his hands. He held her against his chest as he pushed her through the waves of pleasure that washed over her, taking her to the very end so she trembled against him.

Panting, he slowly laid her back down on the rug and rested his forehead against her collarbone. Her legs twitched around his waist and she could barely breathe around the hitch of her lungs and the knife in her throat that she was desperately trying to swallow.

Sitting back slightly, he ran a hand through his hair and began to say something before noticing the faint tear trails on her cheeks. The evidence was impossible to hide.

“Mare?” He rasped, before grabbing her face to turn it toward him. “Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?”

Still breathless, he sounded terrified. Grabbing his wrists and forcing a very believable smile, she laughed. “No. It was good. It was so good.”

It wasn’t a lie. She’d asked and he had delivered, like he always did. Running a hand through his hair and pushing it off her forehead, her smile wavered to a melancholy one. “You are good. You’re always good.”

His concern furrowed his brows, and he searched her face for a few seconds. Those astute eyes tried to find the root of her expression, but found nothing. Mare had slid it behind walls and walls of perfectly placed happiness. Cupping his face, she said, “You gave me a nasty rug burn though.”

He didn’t immediately smile or laugh at her joke, but eventually the corner of his lips quirked up. Her relief was almost palpable. She was not about to talk about her worries tonight, not after the conversation they had just had. That might be a conversation for another day, if it ever became one at all.

Leaning forward again, he pressed a kiss between her brows, the touch so gentle that she closed her eyes. Her nails trailed lightly down the back of his neck, and she memorized the smell of him, the feel of him inside of her, and catalogued it away into the file she kept of him.

“We should shower.” He murmured against her temple as he kissed his way down her face to leave another feather light kiss on her lips.

“You mean you don’t want all my friends and my brother to know that you fucked me on the rug they’re going to be standing on tonight?” She teased, only to laugh as he lifted her up into his lap.

“If I tell them anything, it will be that I adore you.” He said with a smile as he moved her hair out of her face. His eyes shone in the evening light, and Mare copied that memory to tuck it away for safe keeping too.

(/////)

“I have to say, you didn’t do all that bad.” Shade teased her as he leaned against the old spiral staircase that lead upstairs to her bedroom while they watched their friends in her living room arguing over the semantics of something or another.

Lifting her mug of coffee to inhale the scent curling off it in tendrils of heat, Mare said, “You have full permission to check me into the hospital if I ever agree to do this again. Have them run every test in the book too.”

Her brother laughed, a wonderful sound that Mare never realized she missed until she heard it. She smiled at him too, and then took a deep drink of the rich roast Gisa had brought with her. She had smuggled a number of things back from her school in France, including a girlfriend that she had never mentioned to anyone. But Cameron was fun, albeit quiet and reserved. But she had gotten into the shenanigans around her after a glass of wine.

“I’ll be sure to.” Shade nudged her with his hip. Mare managed to keep her coffee in its mug, and glared at him for almost spilling it.

He gave her his prize winning smile though, and her resolve crumbled. Rolling her eyes and then turning back to the scene before her, she picked out Cal sitting on the couch. Her friends were still skeptical around him, and Farley was downright prickly most of the time, but they seemed to have all set that aside for tonight. It had eased the knot in her chest a little more.

“So he’s sticking around then? Possibly a permeant staple?” Shade asked, hiding the words from the rest of the room behind his mug. Not that anyone was going to hear him over the shouts of displeasure regarding the topic Farley had chosen.

Mare gripped her mug tighter, remembering the feeling of Cal’s lips on her shoulder as the hot water in her shower rolled down both their bodies, and how gently he had held her hips while she kissed him like a dying man inhaling air. He’d knelt before her in her tiny shower and almost put her on the wall to feast on her again after that.

Shaking her head slightly to dispel those memories, Mare ran her thumb over the rim of her mug. “Maybe.”

Shade lowered his mug, his eyes burning a hole in Mare’s profile. When she didn’t elaborate, he gestured with his head to the fire escape. With near silent steps, he climbed out the open window and Mare followed him. She glanced over her shoulder once to make sure no one noticed their departure. Everyone was too engrossed in Gisa’s story to pay them any attention though.

Outside, the late fall breeze burned her cheeks, and Mare shivered as it pushed through the holes of her sweater. Reaching up, she pulled the turtleneck collar up higher. Thank goodness this one had been clean, because as soon as she had gotten out of the shower earlier, she had seen the massive hickey forming on her neck and none of her makeup had been able to hide it. As much as it had made a knot of pleasure curl tightly in her stomach to see it, she didn’t need to announce to everyone what had happened earlier.

Shade sank onto the metal stairs that lead up to the next level and her bedroom. He watched his sister for a minute, before asking, “Is everything okay?”

“I mean, it’s fine.”

“You’re happy?”

“Of course.” Mare snapped, suddenly defensive.

Shade tilted his head to the side, and the lights of the traffic danced in his honey colored eyes for a moment. “Tell me the truth right now Mare. Or so help me I’ll go in there and force it out of him.”

Turning to the street, Mare rested her forearms on the railing. Below her, the traffic crawled by, and people strolled along the street. It normally snowed this time of year, but the storms had held off for some reason. Global warming, Farley would bemoan as she raved about how people like Cal were ruining the world. Mare was surprised her friend hadn’t chewed Cal out tonight about it yet. It was a small miracle that she hadn’t.

“Mare.” Shade spoke again, mimicking their father’s quiet demanding tone so well, Mare almost did a double take.

Turning to look at the dark skyline, she let out a long exhale. “I—he’ll leave someday.”

“He told you that?”

“No, but I—I know it.” Mare kept her voice quiet in case anyone got curious and came to investigate.

The soft ring of Shade setting his mug down kept her grounded in the moment. It kept her from floating back into that melancholy mood she had been avoiding since this afternoon. He didn’t say anything, but then again, he didn’t have to. She would tell him everything eventually, Mare didn’t like it when people pushed her to speak her mind anyway. She was damn good at doing it on her own without being pushed.

Running a hand through her hair and pushing it out of her face when the wind shifted it into her eyes, she said, “I’m not the kind of person he needs. He’ll find a polished girl someday, or his dad will find one for him, and I’ll go back to being what I’ve always been. A river trash nobody that ran out of luck again.”

Looking down at her coffee that was quickly going cold, Mare tried to hide how much those words cut her throat as they came out. She hadn’t told anyone that, and for good reason. Shade she could trust to be objective though, and to keep her feelings a secret. He’d kept so many of her secrets as is.

“I don’t think he’ll leave.” Shade’s voice was so quiet it was almost lost to the traffic. Mare glanced at him with a frown, and he shrugged in response to her expression. “I see the way he looks at you. He looks at you like you’re the sun, and he can’t help but gravitate toward you.”

Huffing at the allegory, Mare rolled her eyes and looked back down at her coffee. A childish part of her wanted to pour it out and see if it hit anyone below.

“ I’m serious Mare.” The warmth of Shade’s body preceded him as he came to stand next to her.

“You don’t get it. You and Farley fit together perfectly. You guys have the same background, the same hopes and dreams.” Mare took another drink from the coffee, suddenly wishing it was actually another glass of wine.

Shade set his hand on her forearm, and squeezed gently. “Can I give you some brotherly advice?”

“Is this going to be like the time you told me to cut my hair off because it would make men stop talking to me?” Mare joked as she gave him a tiny smile. His laugh was a small breath out of his nose, but he returned her smile nonetheless.

“Enjoy it. If you think you have so little time with him, enjoy every second. Stop catalogue them, stop counting the hours and minutes like they’re running out. Pretend the clock isn’t there.” He squeezed her arm a little harder, to keep her attention when she tried to look away. “I mean it. You’re going to make yourself miserable doing that.”

She nodded, and he sighed as he let go of her arm and leaned forward to mirror her pose. “He’s a good guy, I think. He won’t leave you because it will benefit him. He’s too chivalrous for that.”

Mare’s lips curled up at the corner a hint. That was true. This is why she needed Shade around more. He was the objective to her subjective, the reason to her fallacy. He had always been good at battling back her demons.

“Hey you two, we’re about to open the last bottle of wine, and Cameron has agreed to play truth or dare.” Farley poked her head out of the window to call out to them. Shade smiled at her, one that Mare realized with a bubble of warmth in her chest, looked very much like the one Cal had given her earlier.

“We’ll be in in a second Di.”

Farley took the hint and left, leaving them alone once more. Shade glanced back at Mare and nudged her with his elbow again. “I mean it, stop counting.” With that, he followed his girlfriend back inside. Mare remained on the balcony for another second, inhaling the fall air.

When her lungs burned with the effort of holding that air in, she expelled it, letting go of almost every second she had logged away. Maybe Shade was right, maybe he was wrong. Right now though, she was happy. The last thing she needed was to make herself miserable on a maybe. Smiling to herself, she climbed back inside and crossed the room to sit between Cal’s knees on the ground. He leaned forward in response, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close and whisper in her ear.

“Good?”

“Yes.” She replied as she reached up to caress his hand softly, smiling at how the day had turned out perfect in its own way.

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lue-arlert · 3 years

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Listen to the Rain - Chapter 23

Summary: After graduating college and moving in with his childhood friend, Connie finds himself enchanted by Odette Ackerman, a beautiful woman who was rumored to be something otherworldly. He ignored warnings from those around him to leave her be, and learns of a magical love he never knew he could feel.

WC: 3.1k

Chapter content warnings: OC content, modern au, ‘fantasy’ au, alcohol consumption, drugging, *Bailey Sarian voice* suspish, I have no idea how to label this one pls let me know if I need to add anything else

A/N at the end of chapter

Previous Chapter 23 Next

La Frayeur

By the time the weekend came around, Connie had applied to nineteen new jobs, and seven that he’d previously applied for and didn’t hear back from or was denied an interview.

So far, the only emails he received were thank you emails for sending through applications and interests in positions. He didn’t get any phone calls or texts, but he knew he needed to be patient with hearing back on his inquiries.

The group had all been invited to Eren’s for movie night, but no one really was paying attention to any movies.

Everyone was just sitting around chatting and drinking, Connie especially, still upset over losing his job.

Odette sat on the couch with her knees crossed beside Marco and one of Eren’s other friends, watching people converse and drink as they sat in other chairs and on the floor or stood along walls, some playing drinking games.

Jean challenged Connie to one, and they sat on the floor in front of the couch laughing and shooting back shots.

Connie soon found himself getting warm and smiley, and leaning against Odette’s legs, his hand wrapping around her beaded ankle.

She smiled at him and rested her hand on his head, stroking her thumb across his hairline. “Are you having fun, dear?” She asked softly.

“Yeah—d’you know you’re pr’tty?” He rubbed his cheek over her knee, humming happily at the feeling of her fingers in his fuzzy hair.

Odette giggled and shook her head.

Eren finished a conversation, glancing over to the couple. He’d gotten sick of seeing them sneak kisses and Connie putting his hands on her. He’d had enough of their flirting and the way Odette would caress Connie. He couldn’t take it anymore—couldn’t take their affections, couldn’t take that they grew closer and closer as their relationship went on, the way they would gaze at each other.

He stood and stepped towards the kitchen, pausing to look at his guests, settling his eyes on Odette. “Anyone want anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

A couple people gave their answers, and Odette turned to look at him, her hand still resting on Connie’s head. “I’ll have a coffee, please, Eren.”

“What do you want in it?” He smiled coyly.

“Do you have cinnamon and sugar? Or any creamer?” She giggled when Connie squeezed her calf and she grabbed his hands, holding them in her own as she turned to Eren again.

“Do you want Irish cream or vanilla bean?” He asked while resting his hand on his hip.

She thought for a moment, letting Connie play with her hands and rings, before answering, “Vanilla, please.”

He nodded and went into his kitchen, beginning to brew the coffee while he grabbed the other drinks requested and went to pass them out to everyone, retreating back to the kitchen to pull the coffee pot from the maker and a mug from the cabinet. He poured the coffee in, then reached into his spice rack and grabbed the cinnamon and sugar, sprinkling each into the beverage. He stepped over to another cabinet and reached into the back of it, grabbing a jar with a large cork seal and carried it back to the counter and sat it beside the mug.

The cork popped out without him touching it as he reached for a small spoon, lifting it from the silverware drawer and scooping it into the jar, filling the ladle of it just barely halfway with mixed powders and delicately sprinkling it into the cup. He tossed the spoon into the sink as he stepped up to his fridge and pulled the creamer out, striding back over to the mug and drizzling in what he thought was enough flavor of creamer before snapping the lid of the bottle shut again and resting his hand over the cup, mumbling softly while the coffee and added ingredients stirred itself.

After returning the creamer to the fridge, he took the mug and carried it back into his living room, circling the couch to stand before Odette, lowering the drink to her.

She smiled up at him and released her hands from Connie, who just as soon leaned forward to do another shot with Jean.

“Thank you, Eren.”

“You’re welcome.” He returned the smile and stepped back to his seat, plopping down and glancing around the room at his friends. He watched people drink, watched them flirt, watched them fall asleep on their spot on the floor, and watched them scurry off hand-in-hand to find a room to hole themselves up in.

His eyes fell back to Odette, watching her sip her coffee while her attention was on Connie and Jean. She wasn’t talking to anyone while she sat there, despite being surrounded by a great deal of people. She would occasionally lean to Marco and exchange quick words with him, or give short answers to some of Eren’s other friends if they asked her a question or said something to her.

He watched her lift the mug to her lips again, then turned to one of his friends and started a new conversation.

Eren needed to wait just for a little while, before he could act on what he needed. It was perfect, to him, that Connie was treating his unfortunate job loss with a coping mechanism that would keep him from being able to leave. Everything was going to work out perfectly.

It wasn’t long before he caught Odette bringing a hand to her eyes, rubbing her furrowed brows after pushing her glasses up her forehead.

Connie had turned to say something to her, then his drunken smile faltered and he shifted to his knees, scooting against her legs with his hands on her belly. “You okay babe?” He asked quietly, seeing discomfort in her face.

“Yeah, I think I have a headache starting.”

“Can I rub your feet ‘r somethin’?” He asked sweetly, dropping his hands to her thighs. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” she smiled at him and shook her head, her curls falling against her cheeks as she returned her glasses to her eyes.

Eren watched for a while as Connie went back to drinking with Jean, leaving a hand on his girlfriend’s knee while he knocked back another shot.

Odette was sitting quietly to herself again, playing with her bracelets, when she closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, bringing her fingers to her brows again, cinched together as another jolt of dull pain came behind her eye.

Her chest started to feel tight as shallow breaths escaped her lips and she turned to look at Connie, trying to focus on him having a good time after the rough week he’d been having.

After some time, she found that the headache wasn’t going away and she was becoming dizzy, leaning her head back against the couch as she sighed again.

“Dette?” Connie’s slurring voice asked quietly as he brought himself back against her legs. “Baby, you okay?”

“I don’t feel good.” She shook her head and pursed her lips, trying to focus on sending any healing energies she could into her head, but she found it was only making her more tired. Her limbs felt weak, like she would struggle to hold herself up if she stood, but not enough that she couldn’t manage through it.

Connie frowned and blinked his blurry eyes, trying to focus on her. He lifted a hand to her face and rested the backs of his fingers against the side of her head, then hummed curiously. “Y’have a fever, babe.”

She moaned quietly and removed his hand from her face, laying it in her lap. “I don’t think I have a fever, I was fine just a little bit ago.”

“Maybe y’r jus’ warm because I think y’r hot,” he snickered, nuzzling into her stomach as she chuckled gently at him.

“Connie, please.” She rested a hand on his head and ran her thumb over his hairline. “I’ll be okay, maybe I shouldn’t have had caffeine so late.” Though, it didn’t make sense to her why that would bother her. She’d never had an issue drinking coffee in later hours of the day.

Connie sighed as he looked up at her, his big olive eyes filled with concern for her as he reached a hand up to lazily trace his fingers on her arm. “Can I do anything?”

“No, honey, I’m okay,” she breathed, sighing again as another wave of pain came through her head and her stomach churned slightly.

Seeing her like this was bothering Connie, he didn’t like knowing she wasn’t feeling well—and what if she just continued to get worse? Could he stand to see her becoming ill?

“I think I need to lie down.” Odette whispered softly as she pushed her glasses to her forehead again, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips while being mindful of the minimal makeup on her eyes.

“I can’t drive y’home,” Connie grumbled as he turned to look at the empty cans and shot glasses between him and Jean.

“That’s okay, I…” She groaned quietly, realizing that she didn’t have anywhere to lie down. She was at Eren’s, and while they had the bare minimum of friendship, she wasn’t comfortable asking him to tuck herself away in one of his rooms. She also didn’t feel like she could ask Connie if she could drive his car home and have someone bring him home later. It was clear that at this point in the night, everyone drinking would just have to stay the night to recover from their games and eventual hangovers.

Eren’s voice called from across the coffee table as he leaned on his elbows towards her. “Are you okay, Odette?”

She lifted her head to look at him, squinting one eye with her face scrunched up in pain. “I don’t feel good all of a sudden. Could I maybe get some water?”

He nodded at her and stood, fetching her a bottle of water and coming up behind the couch to pass it to her.

She carefully reached to her shoulder to take it from him and struggled to crack it open. When she finally opened it, she took a gentle sip and sighed, feeling the cold liquid rolling down her esophagus.

Eren leaned on the back of the couch and watched her, catching a glimpse down her shirt and holding back a smirk. He slowly lifted a hand to the side of her head, resting his knuckles against her warm skin. “You do feel feverish.”

“I think I need to go home.” Odette whispered, taking another sip of the water.

“I can’t take you home, babe,” Connie whined as he leaned into her lap with a pout.

“I’ll get a cab or something.” She smiled weakly at him, then winced when her head throbbed.

“Lemme take you home.” Eren stood, pushing himself up with his hands on the back of the couch. “I haven’t drank tonight since I work tomorrow. I can be your DD.” He forced a smile at her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I didn’t even drink.” She chuckled softly, rubbing the back of her hand over her brow. After a moment, she sighed and slowly turned to look up at him. “I don’t want to take you away from your guests, I’ll order a cab.”

Eren scoffed and glanced around at his guests, a sly smile coming across his lips. “They’re all drunk, they won’t miss me. They’ll keep themselves busy with something. Besides,” he grazed his knuckles into her hair, tucking some behind her pierced ear. “You need someone to make sure you’ll get home safely.”

Odette sighed as she looked down at Connie, cupping his drunk face in her hands. “Are you okay with me leaving early? I don’t want to just ditch you.”

“No,” he shook his head before laying it in her lap. “You need t’ go rest, baby, y’r not ditching’ me.” Connie tucked his arms around her thighs and waist, and having the advantage of standing behind them, Eren could freely roll his eyes with a scowl without either of them noticing.

Odette nodded and watched him lift himself from her, then leaned forward with another wince. “I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

He nodded again and kissed her, in his drunken daze only capturing the corner of her mouth.

She smiled softly and kissed him proper, carefully standing while using the back of the couch to keep her steady.

Eren quickly came around to the front of the couch and wrapped an arm around her waist, his other hand grabbing her arm to keep her upright. He watched her face twist in pain and her hands come up to lazily grab onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry Eren, I don’t mean to put you out.”

“No worries, you aren’t.” He glanced down at Connie, who pouted as he held onto Odette’s skirt.

“Feel better, baby.”

“I will try.” She smiled at him and let Eren guide her to his front door, her legs feeling like jelly as she tried to carry herself out the door and to his driveway.

Eren carefully helped her into the passenger side of his car, buckling her in as he leaned in close to her, his hand brushing her belly and arms as he helped her settle into the seat.

Odette winced again and brought her hands to her face, whimpering at the pain in her head and tightness in her chest.

Eren climbed into the driver seat beside her and started his car, backing out and taking off down the street towards her home.

The ride was silent for the most part, mostly with Odette’s staggered breathing and whimpering, and the low volume of the radio.

After a few minutes, he glanced over at her and watched how her arm wrapped around her stomach, and she leaned her head on the window.

“How are you feeling?” He asked with feigned concern.

“Awful,” she sighed, her eyes shut tight. “I don’t understand… I was just fine. I don’t know where this came from.” Her head was feeling fuzzy again, and though she sat still in the bucket seat of the car, she felt wobbly like she would fall over. “I don’t… understand.”

“It was the coffee,” Eren said plainly.

“Caffeine doesn’t… do this to me, though… I’ve never felt this.” Her breathing was shallow again and she felt her limbs tingling, almost like chills but her body never drifted from warmth.

“It wasn’t the caffeine.” He shook his head, staring at the road ahead of him. “It was what I put in it.”

It took a moment for her to register his words, and she turned her head slowly to him, her eyes barely peeked open. “What?”

He didn’t answer her right away, instead just turning onto a road that led toward Odette’s home.

“Eren, I don’t understand,” she breathed, shifting in her seat to look at him.

He was silent again as he drew closer to her house, knowing it wasn’t much further in the distance.

“Eren,” she demanded weakly after a long moment, just as he pulled into her gravel driveway.

“Y’know something, Odette?” He asked as he turned off his car, unbuckling himself and turning to her, resting his elbow on the center console. “You’re a lot stronger than I’d initially thought.”

She stared at him, her vision fading between clear and blurry as she tried to control her breathing.

He stared back at her, his arms and hands unmoving as her seatbelt unbuckled itself and zipped back into its resting place beside the car door.

Odette gasped and jumped at this, slightly delayed from her headache and she looked up at him again with wide eyes. “Eren, I didn’t—I didn’t do that.”

“I know. I did. You can’t use your magic right now. Or at least,” her door popped wide open and she fell out of the car, having leaned against it to try putting a distance between them in the small space. “You shouldn’t be able to.”

She gasped again and tried to prop herself up in the gravel to look into the car again to see him. “E-Eren, what’s going on?”

He exited his car, shutting the door behind him and circling around to close the passenger door, then bent down to grab her by the bicep and hoisted her up into his arms with ease.

She tried to wiggle out of his grip, but she wasn’t strong enough to push away from him completely on her own. With a deep breath, she shut her eyes tightly and forced an energy out of her body that knocked Eren’s arms away from her, making her fall to the ground again on her hands.

Eren stumbled back in surprise, then laughed softly, stepping to her again and squatting down in front of her. “See? I gave you a generous amount of a powder that’s supposed to drain you of all your magic—temporarily, of course, I would be a hypocrite to take your magic away from you completely. Now,” he sighed, grabbing her arms again and pulling her upright to look into her eyes.

He watched her face contort in both pain and confusion, and wrapped an arm around her to hold her close to him, his other hand pushing some curls from her eyes with her glasses, letting them rest on her hairline. “Let’s get you inside,” he whispered, spinning on his heels and carrying her up the porch steps while the front door and screen door blew open in their opposite directions.

Odette’s cats mewled in shock and hopped over to the door to see what the commotion was, then each hissed at the sight of Eren holding their mother against him like he was.

Eren glanced from them to a pantry, which popped open and the cats flew into it with loud screeches and thuds as they clamoured into some boxes of food and the door once again slammed shut, locking them away.

“Eren, why are you doing this?” Odette sobbed softly, trying once again to shove him away.

He glanced down at her as he carried her over to the swirling stairs leading up to her lofted bedroom, and gave her a half smile. “Well, that’s gonna be a bit of a long story. You got a minute to listen?” Then he chuckled and shook his head, ascending the stairs and adjusting her against his body to more easily lift his legs up the steps. “I mean, not that you have much of a choice right now, I guess.”

Previous Chapter 23 Next

Series Masterlist

Thank you SO MUCH to @coffeeforday and @fierydiamond for beta reading the last couple chapters! I forgot to add an a/n to the last chapter but thank you again so much 🥺 I love you both a whole lot 💘

Taglist: @seriouslyprongsies @coffeeforday @lavenderdaisyhoney @sinnerofthewalls @fierydiamond @porcoqalliard @reiner69er @loitering-in-levis-tea-shop @vabthehobbit @paradisdementor @pockcock @killerbananas

#connie springer #connie springer attack on titan #connie springer shingeki no kyojin #connie springer aot #connie springer snk #connie springer fanfic #connie attack on titan #connie shingeki no kyojin #connie aot #attack on titan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #aot fic #snk fic #Listen to the Rain

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writer1 · 4 years

Text

A regretful Wolf and his Beauty

Chapter One

Beast!Rex x fem!reader.

Summary: As punishment for his actions, young prince Rex was cursed to become a monster by a witch. The only thing that saved him from his fate was an enchantress, who gave him a condition. He has to find true love in order to redeem himself and he only has until the last petal of the enchanted rose falls. Rex's family helps you by guiding your way into his heart. Rex's fate now lies in your hands."

A/N: Hey, this is a collaborative fic between myself and @ahsokatano-thetogruta. We have created a star wars the clone wars fanfic based off the story Beauty and the Beast, so we both hope that you love reading this as much as we had fun writing it. Enjoy!

It's a crisp winter's day, the untouched snow was glistening, as more beautiful soft snowflakes danced through the air, swirling around each other in time as they waltzed their way to the ground. The slowly rising sun peers over the horizon, it feels magical as the sun shines over the sparkling snow, glistening and gleaming, creating a beautiful, breathtaking winter wonderland, and the inhabitants of the royal castle start to stir, the younger kids are already running around. They were waiting Impatiently to open the nicely wrapped presents under the tree. Christmas day is finally here again.

Rex was surrounded in peace until he was abruptly awoken to the sounds of exciting cheers and shouting of his younger brothers and cousins who are now running around the halls of the castle outside of his room.

Rex groans at the sound. He tries to go back to sleep, pressing his face tightly into the pillow. He had a late night, and is absolutely exhausted.

He almost growls when his door swings open and Fives, Echo and little Stutter run in. The ten year old twins and four year old kid run over to Rex, with Fives picking up Stutter, dropping him on top of his side. Rex almost growls again, but holds it back so as not to hurt his little brother's feelings.

He turns over, Stutter sitting on his stomach now, hands against his chest. The cute smile on his face makes Rex give him a small little smile.

"Come on, Rex. It's time to get up, right Stutter?" Stutter looks at Fives, nodding happily.

"Yeah! C-C-Come on, O-Ori'vod" Rex smiles tiredly.

"Okay! I'm up Vod'ika, can you three please leave so I can get dressed." They all nod, Echo walking over and grabbing little Stutter from Rex. They all walk out.

"Hurry up, Ori'vod." Echo yells back, causing Rex to huff a little. Rex rubs his face and yawns, trying to wake up more. He feels like he could go right back to sleep for the rest of the day, but that's not happening. He sits up, stretching his arms and legs out.

Once he's half woken himself up, he hops out of bed, padding over to the wardrobe slowly. He looks through his collection of clothes, finding his favorite shirt inside. He smiles, grabbing it and a nice brown pair of pants. Once fully dressed, he starts walking towards the door to leave his quarters.

On his way, Rex's vision goes slightly blurry and his eyes struggle to stay open from fatigue, so he yawns again, but because he couldn't see where he was walking, he clumsily stumbles into a small table making him curse as he snaps his eyes shut for a second. When he opens them again, he can see a vase wobbling around on its base, almost ready to topple over at any second. It all happens in slow motion and Rex is unable to move quickly enough to stop it from hitting the ground.

It makes a loud crash as it shatters into a thousand pieces. Rex feels his frustration earlier come rushing back to him, his annoyance growing with every passing second. A few moments later, he hears his door swing open. Without bothering to turn around to see who it is, his words come out snappy. "Don't you know how to knock?" He turns around to see Cody standing in the doorway. "Oh...sorry Cody. I didn't mean to lash out like that."

"It's alright, Vod'ika. I heard a loud noise so I just needed to make sure that you were okay, I was worried for you." Cody smiles knowing that Rex is okay, he saw the frustration on his face for a second after he turned around. "Are you okay?"

Rex feels a guilt wash over him like a ferocious wave, regretting being so rude, especially in front of his Ori'Vod. "I'm sorry, Cody. I accidentally bumped into it." Cody smiles kindly at Rex, he knows that it's not his fault.

"It's fine, Vod'ika. It was an accident. I'll clean it up, are you okay, you look frustrated." Rex nods, Cody's been here for him ever since their parents died two years ago. The reason Rex is crown prince is because Cody and his other brother Bly didn't want the crown.

"I didn't sleep well last night, and I was woken up by all of the noise." He mumbles a bit, still tired.

"I'm sure you'll feel throughout the day. We have a lot of fun things planned." He says with a big smile, hoping it will make Rex feel somewhat better.

"I'm sure I will too." He thanks him with a tired smile. Being thirteen and having hormones is not making his morning any better, but he tries to power through it the best he can and hopes he'll have a good time.

"I'll meet you in the ballroom to open presents once I've cleaned this up for you."

"Thanks, Ori'Vod."

"You're welcome, Vod'ika."

xxx

It's always very busy in the kitchen on Christmas. Many Chefs are preparing the vegetables and various foods for the Christmas dinner and snacks throughout the day. Gregor is a fifteen year old chef in training after being promoted from a dishwasher to a sous chef. He was given the day off today to spend with his brothers and cousins, but asked the head chef if he could make some cookies for everyone when they all open their presents. His boss is really nice, so he lets him do what he needs to do. Gregor gets up early to start making them. He hears the younger kids start running around upstairs, waking up the oldest of the family. He chuckles thinking of the kids running into his room to find an empty bed, he won't be woken up by someone jumping on him this year.

Gregor grabs all the ingredients he’ll need for the cookies, starting with the flour. He pours it into a bowl, there's a cloud of flour in the air after he pours but he just ignores it. He grabs the milk and eggs next, being careful to measure it correctly, the eggs are cracked in a separate bowl then, once checked for shells, are poured in with everything else. Next is Gregor's favorite ingredient, sugar.

He measures out a little more than the recipe calls for since his brothers and cousins love it when he adds extra into the mixture, because they all have a big sweet tooth. He mixes it in, giving the batter a quick taste. Once he finds that the taste is good he adds the baking powder and butter, checking the taste just to make sure it's still good.

Once the batter has reached the desired consistency and sweetness, he grabs a selection of Christmas spices from a cupboard and places them on the counter. He separates the batter into 3 different bowls, each one for a different flavour. He will make some cinnamon, ginger and vanilla cookies, though he makes about a batch more of cinnamon cookies because almost everyone goes crazy over those.

He mixes in the spices in and then puts the batter onto the counter. Gregor goes to get a rolling pin and some cookie cutters shaped like Christmas trees and stars to give them that extra Christmas feel to them. He rolls out the batter evenly and then cuts some out, placing them onto a tray ready to go into the oven. Once they are all cut out and placed on baking trays, he puts them into the oven that was preheated earlier on and then grabs a sand timer that will tell him in 20 minutes that the cookies will be baked and ready. He turns over the small timer and takes it with him so he can join everyone to start opening presents.

xxx

Rex sits in a circle with the kids, everyone between the ages of 2 to 15 is there. They all have presents in their laps, ready to be opened, the older kids and adults just have to give the say. Cody walks into the room, glancing around and smiling.

“Okay, you can all open your present now!” 99 calls out, he's the oldest among them and is everyone's uncle. All the kids start ripping open their presents, Rex feels a little bit of fear for Anakin's present when he starts to shake it.

“Be careful, ani. You’ll hurt him.” the twelve year old knight in training looks at Rex with wide eyes.

“Him?” he asks, setting the box down gently. He rips it open, hearing a bark when he opens it. He gasps loudly.

“A PUPPY!!!!” he yells, hugging the young dog to his chest. Rex smiles at his best friend's happiness, it was hard work keeping the puppy a secret. And getting it into the box a little while ago was tough, he had to ask Obi Wan for help. The older knight was surprised when Rex had asked him about getting Anakin a puppy, but agreed. He could see why Cody loved the guy. Anakin put the puppy down, pouncing on Rex.

“Thanks Rex, I love him!”

"Aw, he's so cute! What will you name him, Skyguy?" Anakin looks to his left to see Ahsoka petting his new dog gently on its head.

He smiles at her, she's only three years old but he finds her so enthusiastic and sweet "Hmm…" Anakin thinks for a moment, looking deeply into the puppy's eyes. "I'll call him Artoo!" He says, and the puppy lets out a little bark and wags his tail. Anakin feels tears of happiness well in his eyes as he hugs him close to his chest again, feeling Artoo snuggle into him.

After a few moments of admiring the adorable sight, Rex sees Stutter hand him a present. "Here y-y-you go R-R-Rex. T-T-This is f-for you."

Rex takes the wrapped up box from Stutter,smiling as he does so. "Thank you." He is only four years old, so the wrapping is a little bit untidy, but he is just so sweet and thoughtful. He peels back the paper to reveal a box with a lid. Discarding the wrapping paper on the floor, he carefully lifts off the lid to reveal a drawing inside. "Wow! This is so good, I love it. Thank you very much, Vod'ika!" Rex thanks Stutter, making him smile and then giving him a big hug. "Is that me and you that you've drawn?"

"Y-Yeah! We are p-p-playing t-t-together." He grins, happy that Rex loves his present. Stutter loves art so much, so any chance he gets to do something creative he will go and make more pieces of artwork.

While everyone is busy exchanging presents and making conversation with one another, the air is filled with a delightful and sweet aroma, making the ballroom feel even more Christmassy. Gregor notices that the sandtimer has almost run out, so he gets up and heads to the kitchen.

Rex watches as Hardcase rips into the wrapped present, he shakes his head. He swears that Hardcase is younger than him, not the same age. Hardcase finds a jigsaw puzzle inside, it's a puzzle of knights in shining armor, riding their horses into battle.

“This is awesome!”

“Did you remember to check who it's from?” Rex asks, Hardcase makes a sheepish expression.

“Oops!” he looks around. Finding the name tag, it says that it's from Jesse.

“Thanks Jesse!” hardcase yells to the twenty year old, who smiles.

“Your welcome, Vod’ika!” Hardcase laughs, he absolutely cannot wait to put it together.

Not a moment later, Gregor returns with some plates of his freshly baked cookies. Everyone's eyes go wide as he starts to hand them out to everyone. They always love his baking, especially his Christmas cookies, they are his speciality.

Rex runs over to Gregor, grabbing a handful of cookies. He runs them back over to the group, handing them to Anakin, Hardcase, Ahsoka, Stutter and everyone else in the group. Each person gets one for now to be fair, they'll have more once the presents are all done.

Ahsoka is next to open a present. She rummages through the various other presents under the tree until she finds one with her name on it. It's wrapped in silvery white paper with snowflakes and has a big blue ribbon tied around it. The tiny Togruta's eyes light up and the cutest smile graces her face. "Found mine!" Ahsoka exclaimed excitedly. She runs back over to her Ori'Vod.

Ahsoka lost her family about a year ago and Rex took her in, taking care of her and it wasn't long before everyone in the castle became her new family. She is so happy to have so many great brothers and cousins there for her. When they found out that she could use the force, Obi-Wan suggested that Anakin should be her mentor in her training to become a knight when she is old enough.

"Who's it from, Soka?" Anakin asks, still petting Artoo in his lap.

"It's from…" she searches the box for the label and then reads it out loud. "Rex."

Rex smiles at her kindly. "Go ahead, open it. But be careful with it."

Ahsoka nods and her eyes sparkle with excitement as she begins to peel back the paper, revealing a wooden box. She holds it and looks a bit confused at it for a moment.

"Here, you open it like this." Rex gets up from his chair and crouches down next to her, showing her how to open it. She then opens it all the way.

There's a little ballerina posing as if she was dancing. The lady is wearing a cute pink dress and has a pair of slipper silhouettes in the same colour as the dress. Her hair is tied up in a bun with a ribbon.

“I tried to get you a Togrutan one, but I couldn’t find one anywhere, sorry.” Rex says apologetically, he searched for one for weeks but they were always sold out or just didn't sell them.

"It's okay, I love it so much! Thank you, Ori'Vod!" She puts down the box and gives Rex a big hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. Rex chuckles and hugs her back.

"You're welcome, Soka. There is something else to it as well." Ahsoka looks at him puzzled, not sure about what he means. Rex picks up the box and shows her the little key on the back. "Turn this around a few times and see what happens."

"Okay!" She is excited to see what happens. When she lets go of the key, the ballerina starts to turn around as music from inside the box plays a beautiful song. Ahsoka is in love with this gift. "Wow! Thank you so much, I love it!"

"You're very welcome." Rex smiles at her and then she runs off to another room to carry on listening to the melody that the box produces, completely amazed with her present.

Taglist: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @captainrexisboo

#wererex #wererex x reader #star wars clone wars #captain rex x reader #werewolf clone wars au #werewolf rex x reader #my writing #captain rex #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast au #star wars rebels #ahsoka #hardcase #jesse #fives

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yourfinalbow · 3 years

Text

Ack anon I'm sorry. Tumblr ate your ask and I'm 🔪 But I saved your ask to put on the Google Doc so don't fret! I have it!

“Hi Ghastie Ghast, I wanted to share a prompt with you lol. I decided to go more holiday theme’d because it’s never too early to get into the holiday spirit.

“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I decided to surprise you with it.”

Please enjoy this prompt lmao”

The nickname made me -_- but hi Little Gray Circle Dude With Sunglasses! Thank you for sending me this! I had fun writing it. I'm assuming you wanted a Destiel fic, so that's what I wrote! (Also bonus points for Saileen as a background ship?) I sort of strayed a little from the prompt and the tone gets heavier as it goes on… 👀 I also accidentally wrote more than intended, so you can read it on Ao3 if that's easier. (And maybe give it a kudos because you’re the best?)

Title: Black Coffee Derangement Syndrome

Ship(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy.

(Basic) Tags: Fluff, Slight Angst, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Established Dean/Cas, Established Sam/Eileen, Using black coffee as a metaphor for hypermasculinity, With a whip cream style topping of internalized homophobia. *Finger guns.*

Warnings: Coffee gatekeeping and small sections of fluff that are as sweet as Cas’s Starbucks order. Also I’ve been to Starbucks once. Maybe twice? (Also a single mention of a drug that's commonly found as white powder, the non-descriptive comparison of Sam’s stupid health stuff with emesis, and use of the name that the figurehead for Germany in WW2 bore, just to be safe.)

Rating: T? Maybe? For language?

Word Count: 9k+

Quick thanks to my awesome beta @walksinstarllight! They are a poet and a writing sorcerer (wizard without a hat), and the only reason this fic even makes sense so please go shower them in kudos. (You can find their work here.)

Another thanks to @internetintroverts, who described a peppermint mocha to me in like 300 words because I drink black coffee and know nothing of anything ever. You can find their work here! (There's an Easter egg of one of their fics in this one hehe.)

The first thing Dean did when Cas got back from the Empty was give him coffee.

Okay no.

The first thing he did was fall into Cas’s arms and grip that stupid trenchcoat until his knuckles turned white. Shaking and laughing with hot tears streaming out of his eyes, he told him he was an asshole for leaving him like that. And to never, ever do it again. With blurry eyes and all other thoughts hazy, he told Cas he could have it, he could have what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He told Cas he loved him too.

But then the next thing was coffee.

Caffeine is a hunter’s number one best friend, and since Cas was human again, Dean knew Sam was going to come at him with his stupid green health drinks and herbal tea. As Cas’s knight in shining armour, (a title used by Dean and Dean only), it was his duty to protect him from the disgustingly liquified rabbit food.

Now he expected Cas to like black coffee, you know, like a normal person.

But no, oh no. Apparently, he was dating a heathen.

Dean had to actually rub his eyes the first time he watched Cas fix his own coffee. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth agape.

Cas was leaning on the counter, humming some song that Dean could neither recognize, nor would he approve of, thank-you-very-much.

(Ok it was Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and it's entirely possible he's listened to it once or twice but he still doesn't approve of it, thank-you-very-much.)

He held his yellow and black striped, bee-themed ceramic mug Eileen had bought him in one hand, and the entire five-pound bag of cane sugar in the other. And there he stood, happy as can be, pouring it directly into his mug.

Dean rubbed his eyes again.

And not even like, a normal amount either.

He just kept pouring, and pouring, and Oh my god he’s still pouring. Dean thought. It would honestly be more believable if it wasn’t sugar at all, and instead was in fact Cas’s secret stash of cocaine.

Dean might actually have to put sugar on the grocery list after he was finished.

His thoughts traveled back to Ishim doing the same thing with his coffee, in the tiny little diner Cas had set up as a meeting place. Dean had barged in that day, not thinking of his brother mocking him, or the possibility of danger inside. His vision was as tunneled as his thoughts focused only on Cas, not caring about anything else.

By that time the following day, Dean thought they were both going to die. The bloody and uneven sigil on the wall, Cas no more than ten feet away. Not quite within a comforting reach. The room was spinning from the blow to his head, and he could barely make out the words being spat from Ishim’s mouth.

“You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall.”

He almost lost Cas that day.

The blood rushed to his ears as his instincts sought out the mark on the wall. Ishim had told him to roll the dice, but in his head he couldn’t look past the chance of rolling a one. Watching the acrylic cube bounce until it decided Cas’s fate. There was no dilemma, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. He would always choose Cas over himself. Silent acts of care he could never vocalize.

An inability to speak formed from fear and cowardice. Like a lion in his stomach scratching at the words until they fell back down his throat.

And it was that inability to speak that led Cas to think he was nothing more than a tool for the Winchester’s to use.

He almost let Cas believe he meant nothing to him.

Dean cleared his throat. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Cas set down the bag of sugar and picked up the pot, the glass making a small clink as it hit the top of the coffee maker. “Goodmorning Dean. Would you like any coffee?” He greeted cheerfully, turning around like he hadn't just put enough sugar to make a pound cake in his coffee.

“Uh.” Dean was still caught off-guard by Willie Wonka over there. “Sure Cas.” He took the coffee pot from his hand and muttered a thank you.

“So,” Cas started while Dean reached into the cabinet for his own mug. “What ingredient do you suggest I put in my coffee this morning?”

“Uh...I don't know man. I drink my coffee black.”

“Yes I know you’re boring Dean, but you can still help me not be.”

“Black coffee isn't boring it's-”

“Dean, if you say ‘manly,’ I will sit you down and make you eat only spinach and kale for a week.” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, hair still spiked up from sleep. He used one hand to sign the words, his other one occupied by Eileen, who was sleepily shuffling closely behind.

Dean looked aghast. “I would starve.” He attempted to sign his indignant response, hands moving sloppily while holding both his mug and the coffee pot.

“I think that's the point.” Eileen said, laughing. She looked at Cas. “Is Dean gatekeeping your coffee aspirations again?”

“Yes.” He answered, ignoring Sam’s laugh and Dean’s huff of exaggerated outrage.

“Have you tried cinnamon?” Sam suggested. “You like Dean’s apple pie, and that has cinnamon in it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Sam. Dean told me not to ever take cooking advice from you.“

“And I stand by that.” Dean interjected suddenly.

“I can cook!”

“Ehhh…” Eileen’s comment bought her a look of betrayal. “Though Sam may be right on this one, you might like it.” She shrugged.

“See.”

Cas pondered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will then.”

“Do we have nutmeg?” Eileen said, breaking away from Sam’s grip to check one of the cabinets. He walked to the other side of the kitchen, intending to look through the spice rack, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was getting at.

“You better not mess up my damn kitchen.” He said quickly. “Or you're organising them all next time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well Dean would never let him organise the kitchen. Eileen looked through them, carefully turning the bottles around until the labels faced her. She pulled out the cinnamon and clove while she was looking for the nutmeg.

“Found it.” Sam called from the other side of the kitchen, walking over and putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, grabbing the plastic spice jars.

She individually tossed each one to Cas. “Use these, it will taste like a pumpkin spice latte.”

“And don't forget the milk.” Sam added.

Cas scrambled to catch the spices, successfully grabbing two of them out of the air, the third one intercepted by Dean.

“What’s a pumpkin spice latte?” He looked at Eileen before snatching the bottle of cinnamon from Dean.

“It's a famous drink you can get at Starbucks.” Sam answered.

Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him. “What's a Starbucks?”

“You know, the coffee shop Alex and Patience drag Jody to all the time.” Dean said.

“I’m pretty sure Donna drags her there too.” Sam added. “Something about girl’s date night out.”

“The one Claire says is for ‘basic bitches’?” He lifted his hands, forming air quotes as he spoke.

“Yeah.” Dean answered, quietly laughing. “That's the one. She’s probably right, too.”

Cas carefully put the different spices in his coffee, eyeing the mug warily. His light brown coffee now had specs of...stuff in it.

(And unbeknownst to him, there was also a small pile of sugar at the bottom, the coffee so saturated it wouldn't dissolve any more.)

Eileen laughed at the look on his face. “It's good, I promise.”

Sam turned to look at her. “How would you know? Most of the time you get hot chocolate and spike it with bourbon.”

“You’re the one who gets a Pink Drink.”

Dean choked on his coffee. “What?”

“It's strawberry and coconut milk, and it's delicious.”

“Sure it is Sam.” Eileen jabbed.

“So what I'm getting here is that not only have you two been to Starbucks often enough to have a regular order, but Sam gets something called a ‘Pink Drink’?”

“No…” Sam started, trying to find a way to defend them. “Sometimes we…”

“...Make our own drinks.” Eileen snapped her fingers as she finished for him, attempting to save them from the endless stream of good-natured insults Dean would throw at them otherwise.

“Well you two are a real Martha Stewart, aren't you?”

“Yeah, except she's a convicted criminal.” Sam attempted to snark back.

“So are you!”

Before either of them could respond, Cas shoved his mug into Dean's face. “You have to try this, Dean. It tastes like pumpkin pie.”

Dean carefully grabbed the hot mug from Cas and took a sip. He was right, it did taste kinda like pumpkin pie. He took another sip, letting the pleasant flavor sit on his tongue. The different spices mixed perfectly together.

“I mean it's… okay.” He lied.

Dean contemplated his pumpkin themed food options. “Though I would rather just have pumpkin pie.”

Cas took his mug back. “Fine. More for me.” He said with a smirk, mimicking the look Dean gives him every time Cas says he doesn't want anymore bacon, before taking another sip of the makeshift pumpkin spice coffee.

Dean smiled at him, setting his own mug down and moving Cas’s out of the way to pull him into a kiss. He could smell the nutmeg almost as much as he could taste the cinnamon on his lips.

“Mmm we should bake pumpkin pie tonight.” He said, pulling away just enough so he could talk.

“I would like that.” Cas answered. “All four of us could make pie. According to the 'mom blogs', as you call them, it would be a good family bonding exercise.”

“That’s right. And if they want any pie, they gotta help make it. That means more for us if they refuse.” He grinned.

“A win-win situation, really.” Cas smiled before tugging Dean close so their lips met again.

“I love you.” Dean muttered.

“I love you too.” Cas said softly.

Behind their backs Sam and Eileen were fake-gagging at their sickly sweet interaction, but secretly just glad the two of them had finally gotten over their stubborn (and oblivious) selves.

Sam was honestly overjoyed to see his brother finally happy. He would even go as far as saying finally willing to be himself, too. (Not that he would ever say this outloud. Sam can practically see Dean’s eyes roll farther back into his head than should be possible at the words.) All four of them had gone through more shit in the last few months than any normal person would in their entire life. They were all just lucky to be alive, and with that, learning how to savour the little moments of overly sweet normalcy.

(And the pumpkin spice-life Dean had secretly been longing for since they were little kids.)

So of course they were going to help bake pie.

---

“I want to try Starbucks.” Cas said the next morning, both of them still in bed.

Dean groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I ask why, or is this one of those, 'I'll tell you later’ disasters like with the slime ingredients?”

“I want to try all the human things that I didn't get to try last time.” He said offhandedly.

Dean pictured Cas’s hurt face when he had told him he couldn’t stay, smile broken as Dean’s own heart shattered from the look the newly-human angel was giving him.

He wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that Cas himself wasn’t the reason, but the lion in his stomach clawed the words down faster than even the thought of ruining Sam’s chances at survival could.

With a pang of guilt from the memory, Dean pulled himself closer to Cas and rested his head on the other man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to preserve as much warmth and comfort as he could until they had to inevitably get out of bed. “Only if you let me sleep like this for thirty more minutes.”

Cas smiled. “Oh, are we making deals now?”

“I’d sell my soul for you.” Dean said cheekily, which earned a glare from Cas. “Believe me, I know.”

After a beat he went on. “Fine, you have a deal.” Before Dean could celebrate by tugging the covers over their bodies, Cas added another clause to their agreement. “But... in true Crowley fashion, you have to seal the deal with a kiss.”

Dean lazily threw his arms into the air. “Victory.”

He turned over, pulling himself upwards until he was just inches from Cas. Cradling the angel-turned-Winchester’s head in his hands, Dean placed his lips on Cas’s, melting into the touch as he felt the other man’s arms wrap around his torso.

When he broke away from the kiss, Dean found himself face to face with the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes on, one born from adoration and love. Cas’s eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but for once it wasn’t a sign of confusion when met with some obscure eighties rock reference. It was a tiny expression of care, and it was one that was truly Cas. Not Jimmy’s, not even one Cas had picked up from him or Sam. It was completely and wholly Cas, and a completely and wholly human thing to do.

He realized Cas had been doing that long before the Empty stole his grace.

Dean smiled back at him, relaxed. Like taking in a deep breath after being under murky water for forty years. He brushed a loose strand of soft, brown hair into its place, before falling back into his spot and closing his eyes. “Crowley would be proud.” He whispered with a soft laugh, smile deepening as Cas joined him.

When their quiet laughter died out, there was a pause, air stagnant and in its own sleepy haze

“Oh and Dean?”

“Hm?” Dean turned his head to look at him, eyes not failing to glow with their unusually bright, green pigment. He took a deep breath, the lids of his eyes already started to slowly fall back down again.

“The slime wasn't a disaster. You enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He muttered sleepily, a loose smile forming on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Cas laid there, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, contentment and admiration showing itself in every feature on his face.

This was more than he could have ever wanted.

---

“Dean. Dean wake up.” Cas was excitedly whisper-shouting in his ear like a kid on Christmas morning. It was exactly thirty minutes later, (he had counted), and Cas was ready to get moving.

“No.” He answered back, mimicking Cas’s tone.

“But you’re like a cat.” He teased. “You're on me and I can't get up.”

Dean sighed. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It didn't take much convincing.”

Dean rolled over to give Cas a playful glare, but was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, completely throwing him off his guard.

“I'm going to kill Sam for teaching you that.”

Cas just continued to give him that look.

“Fine.” Dean relented, sitting up with a yawn and thinking about how he will now never be able to win another argument.

“Get dressed.” Cas said excitedly. “We're going to Starbucks.”

“Hooray.” He gave a sarcastic laugh, but a smile creeped on his lips.

They walked out of their room together, heading towards the bunker’s library. Dean slid in one of the chairs, turning Sam’s still-open laptop around and waking it up.

Cas, meanwhile, turned to a random page of the lore book resting on the table and started reading in an attempt to pass the time.

The sound of Dean typing filled the air. “So, I just looked it up, and do we have to go to Starbucks?”

“Yes.” Cas said simply, not looking up from the book.

Dean groaned. “Cas there isn't one in the county, let alone Lebanon. That's probably why Sam and Eileen make their own.”

“Where's the closest one?” Cas asked, his blinding, blue eyes glaring at the back of Sam’s computer like he was trying to will the coffee shop to be near.

“I thought it was across state lines and in Nebraska at first, but it looks like there's a small one in a town called Washington. It's about 80 miles from here.”

“Let's go!” Cas excitedly straightened his trenchcoat and headed towards the door.

“Or, we could leave Starbucks to the fourteen year old girls.”

Cas turned back around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure their entire demographic is fourteen year old girls, staff included.”

Alright, smartass. Dean thought, struggling to hide a smile.

Cas walked out the door, expecting Dean to follow.

“It takes an hour to get there, our coffee’s going to be cold by the time we get home, and it's freezing outside.” Dean muttered under his breath, but he grabbed his keys off the table and stood up, willing to follow Cas to the ends of the earth if it meant he would stay with him.

Not that he was going to enjoy this trip. In fact, he was currently doing the opposite of enjoying, and they hadn’t even gotten into the car yet. Starbucks. Starbucks. Really, Cas? Of all the places he wanted to go, it had to be Starbucks. He couldn’t want to explore humanity through Target or something?

Even Claire wouldn’t be caught dead in that place, with all the frou-frou toppings, elaborate drink mixes, and colourful, drizzled syrup. The people who go to Starbucks are the kind of people who like coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee. Teenage girls who might as well just be drinking whip cream, and that was without considering the seasonal drinks they fawn over.

Seasonal drinks that shouldn’t legally be allowed to be referred to as coffee.

Dean couldn’t believe he ever agreed to this, but still, he begrudgingly followed.

---

Using the GPS on Cas’s phone, (Dean said his insane directional skills helped out too), they found the Starbucks relatively easily once they were in the little town.

They parked the Impala, and Dean looked at the modern building. The green lettering contrasted with the tan plaster walls, spelling “Starbucks.”

He heard Cas get out, his feet making a crunching noise as they hit the gravel, and watched from across the top of the car as he started towards the coffee shop. Dean looked at the building warily, reluctance painted on his face.

Cas was telling him some random fact about a bird he saw, but Dean could only think about his reputation that was about to shatter like a vase dropping on tile floor.

Reputation with who? He didn't know.

Well, he had a vague idea, but chose not to let his thoughts wander that far.

It was okay. This was fine. He could swallow his pride and-

“Ooh. The peppermint mocha looks good.” Cas was reading the limited edition drinks on the drive-thru menu as they traveled across the parking lot.

Dean was going to barf.

They walked into the building, immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of excessive amounts of flavoured syrup indoused coffee. Dean glanced around the well-lit building, taking note of the many different people there.

(He wasn’t about to have any black-eyed minions reporting his Starbucks order to a very judgmental Queen of Hell.)

Cas pushed Dean’s protesting body into the line, looking pleased with the many different options written on the menu overhead.

He enjoyed the small touch of Cas’s hands on his back, moving him forwards to the line, but was grateful Cas was careful not to let them linger there too long.

He was still wary about doing… this, in public.

He knew Cas was patiently waiting for him to be ready, so he didn't know how to tell him that he might never be.

The teenager working the cash register interrupted his train of thought. “What will it be for ya?”

“I would like a peppermint mocha please.”

“Alrighty. And you?”

“I'll take just a black coffee.”

The barista looked unimpressed. “And your names?”

Dean grinned. “John and John.”

“No relation.” Cas added.

The barista just sighed. “How do you want me to differentiate the two of ‘em then?”

“Oh you can put ‘John Bonham’ on mine.” Dean replied.

“Comin’ right up.” Their tone didn't change, still just full of apathy that could only be perfected by the work of a burnt-out teenager.

Dean and Cas walked down to the end of the counter and towards the pickup section. “Now tell me, Castiel.” He stressed his partner’s name. “Who’s John Bonham?”

Cas sighed, but the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin. “John Henry Bohnham, affectionately referred to as ‘Bonzo’, born in 1948 and was most well known for being the drummer of the rock band ‘Led Zeppelin’.”

“Mmm very close, but unfortunately you forgot the word ‘best’ in front of ‘rock band.’” Dean smirked before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

“You should have said I was ‘John Bon Jovi.’” Cas said, smiling.

“Why? Because you’re only good at this sometimes?” Dean closed the gap between them.

As soon as their lips met, Dean pulled away instinctively, realization hitting him like a hunter with a bat as his eyes widened in terror. “I-I'm sorry, I didn’t...” His words faltered as he looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, all of which were paying no mind to them.

He felt sick, guilt gnawing at him from a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, it's okay Dean. You know I'm perfectly fine with public displays of affection, and no one else even saw us. There's no need to apologize.”

“Yeah-h.” He said shakily. Before he could figure out who he was apologizing to, a voice from behind the counter called.

“I have an order for a mister ‘John’ and ‘John Bonham’.”

“That's us.” Dean spat the words out quickly, turning around to take them from the barista’s hand. He rushed out of the door, the small tinkling sound of the welcome bell and the blood rushing to his ears drowning out the sound of Cas’s call from behind.

He sat in the front seat of Baby, knowing he was being childish. Dean took a shaky breath and tried not to think about it.

About what the hell he was thinking, kissing Cas out in public like that. The judgemental eyes- black or not- that were watching. He thought about what his father would say, mind instantly going back to a moment in his childhood he has tried to forget since it happened, wondering where he went wrong.

About the time John had caught him and Lee, ignoring the weak excuses Dean was stuttering out. Skipping town faster than they had done in years.

About how the left side of his face had been a yellow-ish purple for weeks following, and the sore spot on his arm from where he caught the pavement as he flew towards it.

About how he had told Sam he just fell on a hunt. “Don't worry kid, you should have seen the vamp when I was done with him.” He swung his fist around in slow motion, pretending to punch an invisible enemy as his little brother giggled in childish bliss.

About how John never looked at him the same. The disgust in his eyes, harsh words on his lips.

About how he vowed to never disappoint his father like that again, and their joint hatred for that part of him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they could agree on.

About how somewhere, somehow, he had decided Cas was different. That he somehow didn’t count, and that losing him hurt so much, was such an egregious pain, he wanted as much of Cas as he was allowed to have. And how that was something insurmountable stronger than the twisted, sick feeling John had placed in his gut.

He remembered something Cas had told him once: “Hatred isn’t a natural trait, Dean, it’s a learned one. A baby isn’t born with the ability to hate, it’s passed on from one broken soul to another. Love, love however. That’s something different altogether.”

Cas’s hand on his shoulder pulled Dean out of his thoughts. “Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey Cas.”

“I love you.” He got in the passenger's seat, taking his coffee from Dean’s still frozen hand.

“I love you too.” He whispered absentmindedly, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but thoughts from the past. His mind fighting an internal battle, logic telling him that what he had with Cas wasn’t wrong, and even though everything from fate to God had tried to wedge itself between them, it was still the most right thing he had. And he knew that, but his dad’s drunken, booming voice echoed throughout his head, telling him that he was dirty. Telling him the Winchester men had no place for someone like him.

“You better stop that now, boy. Bad things happen to you when you’re weak.”

At the time he had taken that as a warning, rather than a threat. But now Dean wasn’t so sure.

It’s not even that his Dad was particularly religious. He wasn’t told that it was a sin, or that he was going to Hell. Though it’s not like that particular statement would have been wrong. He thought with a bitter laugh.

While the thoughts in his head were screaming mercilessly, the drive home was in a simple silence. The only noise being Cas’s occasional sip, and the sound of soft fabric rubbing against skin as Cas moved his hand in small, comforting motions against Dean's back.

When they got to the bunker, Cas, who was genuinely impressed that Dean managed to drive them home without crashing into a tree, pulled Dean out of the car and gently shook him out of his self-imposed stupor.

“Your coffee's cold.” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean blinked a couple times, clearing the fog from his mind, before laughing along with him. “And who’s fault is that? You were the one who insisted on traveling across the state to get it.”

“Do you want some of mine?” Cas asked. “There's a little bit left, and I held it next to the heater. It should still be lukewarm.”

“No thanks, Cas. I can go make some in the kitchen.”

“But what if I want you to try it?” Dean glared at him. “Don't make me do Sam’s ‘puppy dog eyes’ again.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” He put his hands up, mimicking a surrender. “I'll try some of your stupid, Christmas cookie, candy-cane flavoured coffee thing or whatever.” They started walking towards the entrance to the bunker.

“Peppermint mocha?”

“That's the one.”

Cas laughed at him.

“Oh just, give it here.” Dean said. He took a long sip from the disposable cup. He could taste a vague hint of whipped cream mixed in with the coffee, its light fluffy texture sticking to the last swallow of smooth liquid in the bottom of the cup. The chocolate and espresso rested on his tongue, and the peppermint was strong and refreshing. He took another sip.

“Does that face mean you like it?”

Dean looked at him guiltily. “No.” He opened the bunker’s door and started walking down the metal stairs.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don't.”

“You took a second sip.”

Dean reached the bottom of the stairs first, and walked over to the War Room table to set both coffee cups and his keys down.

“So? I was trying to make sure I properly understood the flavour. Since when is that a crime?”

“You wanted to properly understand a flavour you didn't like?” Cas walked up to Dean and pulled the nearest chair out to sit down.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Eileen asked from the library.

Cas clenched both of his hands into fists, putting the right one on top of the other. He made small, circular, stirring motions with his right hand. “Coffee.” He signed swiftly, movements fluid.

“Ah. That makes sense.” She spoke the words.

“What makes sense?” Sam asked, walking in from one of the hallways, making sure Eileen could see his lips before speaking.

“They're arguing over coffee again.”

Sam glanced at both of them, before his eyes reached the two cups on the War Room table.

“Wait a second… Dean?” He looked at his brother, before turning to face his best friend. “Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” Cas answered.

“Did you two go to Starbucks?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes, we did!” Cas sounded way too excited to be referring to coffee. “I got a peppermint mocha, and Dean tried some and liked it.”

“I did not.”

“I don't care what coffee you like, Dean. What I do care about is that you went all the way to Starbucks, and didn't bother to ask if we wanted to come.”

“Not cool Dean.” Eileen walked in, shaking her head and hiding a smile.

“I might have thought about buying you two drinks, but there was no way I was ordering yours with a straight face.” He looked at Sam. “And it's an hour away, they wouldn't have been hot or cold or whatever they're supposed to be by the time we got here.”

“Well then we'll just have to go back, all four of us.” Eileen put simply.

“It's an hour away.”

“We know.” Sam added.

“Let me say that again, in case you weren’t listening. It's an hour away. For coffee. That isn't even that good.”

“I beg to differ, Dean.” Cas said.

“Yeah I'm definitely with Cas on this one.” Eileen agreed while Sam nodded along.

“No. There's no way I'm getting back in Baby to drive all the way to Starbucks again.”

“Fine. We’ll go get our own.”

“With what car?” Dean said, very sure of himself.

Sam snatched Baby’s keys off the war room table, which in hindsight was probably something Dean should have expected.

“Let's hope Sam doesn't have too many shots of espresso.” Eileen said, faking concern. “I would hate for your baby to pay the price.”

“Fine. I'll drive you.” Dean grumbled while Eileen double fist-pumped her win.

Cas looked very pleased with the thought of getting to try more coffee.

---

They left shortly after, the drive over painful for everyone except Dean, who listened to the same four songs on repeat the entire hour.

(It’s their own fault, really.)

---

“Can we please listen to something other than Bob Seger on the trip home?” Sam complained as he slammed shut the door to Baby’s backseat.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get shotgun.” Dean said, closing his own door. “Besides, driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole.” Sam mouthed the words along with Dean, having heard the speech a million times before.

Eileen and Cas got out, neither one of them had any desire to input on their squabble, and were instead engaged in their own, quieter discussion.

Both brothers continued to argue until they walked into the Starbucks.

“Ah. There's the scent of overpriced coffee I missed.” Eileen joked as she took her first breath inside the building, using her hand to waft the smell towards her.

“What are you getting?” Cas asked Sam.

“I want my usual, and Eileen, what are you having?”

“Hot chocolate with espresso shots please. This place doesn't sell liquor.” She shook her head sadly and Sam laughed. “Good thing I brought my own.” She winked at them, opening her jacket just enough so they could see the inside pocket and showing off her flask.

“Oh, now that would be a Starbucks I would go to.” Dean said.

“You two wait in line.” Sam pointed to Cas and Dean. “We’ll save a table.”

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but they walked away before he had the chance. Cas leaned over towards him. “Don't worry. I'll order Sam’s.” He very conspicuously winked.

Dean smiled at his attempts of regular human interaction, before over-the-top winking himself.

“Can you order for us? I need to talk to Sam about something.”

“Sure thing…” Cas had to think before finishing his sentence. “...buckaroo.”

Dean outwardly cringed. “Keep trying, you'll get there eventually.” He patted Cas on the back, which was slightly moving in a chuckle.

It was good to see Cas filled with so much simple joy. Face creased from laughter rather than stress, he seemed so much lighter. Happier. It was only a small sliver of what he deserved, but it was something. Maybe he could live with driving an hour to get what he assumed was half-decent coffee.

“What would you like?” Cas asked him, eyes still filled with a sparkle that only comes from gaining something you thought you lost.

“Uh.” He thought about it for a moment, almost considering branching out into the unexplored terrain that was the dark green menu with small, white text, before shuddering at the thought.

“I think I'll take that expensive black coffee I didn't get earlier.”

Dean was not going to turn into one of those people, if he had any say about it.

Cas walked into the line, leaving Dean to scan the room, furiously waving Sam over when his eyes found their booth.

“Sam.” He sounded like he was trying to whisper, but his volume raised far higher than that. The patron closest to Dean gave him a look before turning back to their work.

“Sam, come here, it's urgent.” His brother turned to look at him, rolling his eyes before getting out of the booth.

“What do you want?” He said once he reached Dean.

“Sam. Help. What do I do?”

“About what?”

“About what kind of coffee Cas is having.”

“Oh god, Dean let it go. He's not going to only ever drink black coffee. Contrary to popular belief, former angels do actually have souls.”

Dean ignored the implications that he didn't have a soul, too distracted by Cas. “But look.” He motioned his head towards where Cas was standing, next in line to order. “He’s eyeing the weird fruity drinks.”

“Dean. It's Cas. The man’s favorite food is PB&J. What did you expect him to have, taste?”

“Alright that's rich coming from mister Pinkity Drinkity or whatever the fuck.”

“You walked into a Starbucks and ordered black coffee, I don't think I'm the wrong one here.”

“Wait, wait. Shut up. Quiet.” He hit Sam on the shoulder in a childish attempt at getting him to stop talking so he could listen.

“Ow. That hurt.” Sam muttered, before turning to watch Cas, which Dean was already doing.

“I would like to try a…” Cas methodically scanned the menu again. “A ‘Passion Tango Iced Tea,’ please.” The barista took no mind to the excessive air quotes.

“It's not even coffee.” Dean said to Sam, clearly distraught. He turned to look back at Cas.

“And your name sir?”

“Lizzo.”

Dean threw his arms up into the air. “I can't believe this is the man I love.” His voice cracked like he was holding in tears of anguish from listening to Cas order.

Sam just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Right, and he’s the dramatic one.

“Aw. You're in love.” Sam held his hands up, forming a heart and mocking his brother.

“Oh shut up. What are you, seven?”

“Is Cas your gay thing?”

“You shut your mo-”

“What are we gossiping about?” Eileen whispered, cutting Dean off and causing them both to jump.

“We're not gossiping.” Sam said indignantly.

“Sam started it.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“This is where I call you two ‘asshats’, right?”

“It's ‘assbutt.’” Cas said, walking up to them and catching the tail end of their conversation. “And that's my line.”

Cas handed them each their drinks, before excitedly trying his own. He put the plastic cup up to his mouth, almost missing the straw. When he swallowed the cranberry-colored liquid, his face relaxed in pleasure.

“I know this one isn't coffee, but it's really good.”

“We didn't get coffee either.” Eileen said. “So don't worry, Dean's the odd man out here.”

Dean glared at her before trying his own coffee, and well, it was coffee. The point of buying expensive caffeine still went straight over his head.

The four of them went over to their thankfully-still-available booth and sat down. Dean and Cas sat on one side, both instinctively choosing the side that faced the door, with Sam and Eileen sliding into the seats directly across from them. They sat there, talking about nothing in particular, and certainly nothing of importance, before falling into the natural art of storytelling.

Aside from killing monsters, that’s what hunters did best. Sitting around and sharing stories. As tiring and dangerous as their lives were, some hunts were worth sharing exaggerated and hyperbolic versions of, especially over drinks.

Sam’s favourite story to tell changed every time, and one would almost be inclined to believe that most of it wasn't real, but the wildest parts also caused the most merriment. (Dean pretended he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, sparing Sam by not telling the other two how it actually went down.)

Eileen shared of her time in Ireland. “Foreign country, foreign monsters.” She said with a wink, telling of creatures neither Sam nor Dean had even read about.

Dean’s favourite story to tell, aside from the fact that he killed Hitler, was the time he got to solve a mystery with everyone’s favorite talking dog. And yeah, all three of the people that sat at the table had heard both many times before, but that didn't matter, it was still enrapturing to hear them again.

Cas had millenniums to choose from, but always found the most interesting hunts to be the ones with the Winchesters. He also had many hilarious stories about his adventures with Crowley, but he was less fond of those.

“I remember once, Dean went on a hunt with Dad.” Sam started. “Nasty vampire, it got a hit or two on Dean. I think you guys went with another hunter. Young. About your age, actually. Uh…”

He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Lee. That's it.” Dean looked up from the coffee right as Sam said it. “Do you remember him?”

Something flashed in Dean’s eyes, but his brother didn't seem to notice.

Cas, who was used to admiring every minute detail of Dean's expression and posture, didn't miss the ever so slight, yet sharp, inhale. Or the way he swallowed before speaking, trying to clear the small lump from his throat.

Dean noticed too, internally rolling his eyes at his own reaction.

“Yeah it's been a while, but I remember him.” Dean was blatantly ignoring Cas’s burning stare from beside him, and the fact that he had stabbed Lee through the chest just last year.

Cas made sure no one was watching before gently placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. Knowing it would comfort him from both intuition and experience. Dean stiffened under the touch, but after realizing no one could see where Cas’s hand was, he visibly relaxed.

“What happened to him?” Eileen asked innocently.

“Oh uh, a hunt I think. Most of us go that way, I assume he was no different.” Technically Dean dealt the final blow, but it was the entrancing call of the monster, greed, and the life Lee and Dean had both secretly wanted, that caused his former-friend’s downfall in the end.

“Yeah.” Sam said solemnly, suddenly lost in his own thoughts, most of which were riddled with grief.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their many losses wash over them like a tidal wave.

One made of espresso and milk rather than the rough waters of the sea.

---

The ride back was more manageable, Dean allowing them one song choice each, complete with a warning to pick wisely.

(They all very cheekily chose the songs they knew would bother Dean the most.)

---

Full on coffee, cookies Dean bought for them at Starbucks, and brimming with contentment, (as well as the fact that they spent half the day in the car), Cas suggested to Dean that they “hit the hay” as they stepped back into the bunker.

They laid there in silence, breathing in scents of comfort, coffee, and each other, until Cas eventually drifted off to sleep.

Dean, however, continued to lay there. Thinking.

He remembered the first solo case John sent him on.

Something curled inside his gut.

They had been two nuns, their fate a product of hate crime. Put to death for simply being themselves.

Dean didn't blame them for coming back as ghosts.

He remembered the words - ones he would soon learn were slurs - that John would spit out like acid.

Or offhandedly toss like they didn't bear enough weight to shatter the window of a person's self-image.

It had taken him almost forty years to realize that very same window inside of him was in sharp, jagged pieces. Cutting anyone and everyone who came near.

It had taken Cas dying to start picking them up again.

He turned to look at the man next to him, relaxed and blissfully sleeping. His chest moved up and down rhythmically, and Dean slowed his breath to match until he fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

---

When Dean woke up, the other side of his bed was cold.

He didn't panic, knowing full well that Cas probably ran to the bathroom, or was pouring another mountain of sugar in his coffee.

Losing Cas again to the Empty had ripped him apart, but months of spending every night with his partner left him with less nightmares and waking in cold sweats then he had since before Hell.

Dean also learned that his own presence was enough to fight off the demons of solid, black goo that plagued Cas’s head at night.

He was finally starting to understand why life seemed to lose all meaning when Cas was gone, and from there he could slowly start to rebuild both of them.

Dean heard soft padding noises as socked feet walked down the hall, and there was a knock on the bedroom door. "S'your room too, Cas. You don't have to knock." He laughed, words slightly slurred from just waking up

Cas walked in, wielding two mugs of coffee and a proud look shining in his eyes. “I made us coffee.” He said triumphantly, handing one of the mugs to Dean.

“I put chocolate and peppermint in your coffee.”

Dean fake-gasped. “You monster. Ruining the integrity of my drink like that.”

“I'm a human, you ass.” Cas responded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I know you liked mine yesterday.”

“I did not.” He said, discontentedly crossing his arms. “I only drink coffee that's as black as my soul. Darker than the night sky. Hotter than the bunker’s computer when it overheats. As manly as-”

“Oh, just drink your damn coffee.”

“Fine.” He groused. “But I'm not enjoying it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, before setting his mug on the bedside table and sitting down behind Dean. The bed creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Is this why you and Sam never use umbrellas?” He joked.

Dean laughed.

Cas rested his head on the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered. “You know you don't have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Dean asked softly.

“You know.”

“That I don’t like flavoured coffee?” He said with a snort.

“Sort of.” Cas hugged him tighter. “No one’s going to think any less of you Dean. You’re allowed to like the things you like.”

“I know.” He resigned.

“John isn't here anymore.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” The words barely came out as a whisper, hot tears betraying Dean’s eyes as they silently leaked out and ran down his cheeks.

He tried to wipe the tears away, hearing his Dad’s voice in his head and knowing he was being stupid.

Dean couldn't help but think of himself as a small, living-room window, from an old, dilapidated house. Stained yellow with age. Cracking from wear.

He let the drumming of his Dad’s words in his head be drowned out by Cas’s voice.

He couldn't unwrap the fuzz from around him, so he didn't know what Cas was saying, ears seemingly filled with cotton. It was just the knowledge alone that he was there. That he was holding him and whispering comforting words into his ear. That even as a human he could heal Dean at his lowest points, and still see him as the brightest, strongest, soul.

You don't really know what a picture is going to be until it's done.

Maybe that window is a beautiful stained-glass portrait.

“Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “What-what do you have?” He indicated Cas’s coffee by angling his head towards where it sat on the nightstand.

“I made iced coffee.”

Dean just looked at him, astounded, eyes widening. “You mean it’s not hot?”

“Yes, that's where the ‘iced’ in ‘iced coffee’ comes from.” He said very seriously.

They both sat in silence for the next hour, peacefully drinking their coffee and enjoying the presence of one another.

---

When they got out of bed and ventured into the rest of the bunker, they found Sam and Eileen in the library.

They were sitting in adjacent chairs, with Eileen laying her head on Sam’s shoulder and reaching for her water bottle on the table. They were reading a book together, but Eileen shook Sam indicating she had seen them walk in.

“Goodmorning.” She greeted cheerfully.

“Mornin’.” Dean pulled up a chair across from them, and watched as Cas did the same.

“What are you two reading?” Cas asked.

“The Men of Letters’s Bestiary.” Sam said.

Dean snorted. “Ah. Doing a little light reading are we?”

“We're thinking about filling in some of the pages.” Eileen added.

“Yeah, for all of the stuff they have here, it's surprisingly empty.” Sam continued flipping through some of the pages, most of which were blank.

“Heh. I should put you in that thing, Cas.”

Cas let out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m a good example of an angel.” The sarcasm was masking something else in his voice.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been my favourite angel.” Dean only realised how sappy he sounded after it came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest of them are dicks.” Eileen added.

Cas smiled at that, seemingly back to normal.

“Right, well you three can do that, I'm off to the Dean Cave.”

“Or…” Sam started.

“We could go back to Starbucks.” Cas finished, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah... that's not where I was going with that, but I like where your head’s at, Cas. We should definitely go back.”

“Eileen?” He asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Dean?”

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared at him. “Yes, sure, fine. But we're not making this a daily thing.”

“That's fair.” Cas agreed. “It's probably not very healthy.”

He went to grab his wallet and keys before Sam could start his speech on the nutritional value of green things, and Eileen snatched her water bottle off the library table as they all got up to leave.

---

Dean gave up on letting them choose the music after snickering and requesting “Friday” by Rebecca Black for the third time in a row.

(It wasn't even Friday?)

---

Dean stepped out and closed Baby’s door in the parking lot of Starbucks an hour later, kicking the loose pieces of gravel on the asphalt for the third time in two days.

“We might as well just live here.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn't make that offer if I were you, Cas looks like he’d be totally on board.” Sam laughed.

Cas went and stood beside Dean as they started walking towards the building, smiling.

“What?” Dean asked, question genuine and free of all malice.

“Nothing.” Cas answered, smile not faltering.

His eyes revealed nothing but pure devotion for the man he was staring at. A silent promise, one without pressure, that he would be standing there, and Dean could take the leap anytime he wanted.

Dean was slowly inching towards the end of the diving board.

---

“I think I'll just drink my water.”

“Oh that's exciting.” Sam joked. “If I got you a lemon to go with it, would you be able to handle that?”

“Don't talk to me about my drink, when yours is a vivid green puke colour.”

“Hey, at least it actually has a colour. And a flavour at that.”

Dean couldn’t believe those words were coming from the same man who drinks exactly a hundred and one ounces of water a day. (Which, according to Sam, is the recommended amount for males, as stated by the Institute of Medicine.)

(Dean didn’t care.)

“Fine then.” She turned to look at Dean. “Get me the strongest thing on the menu.”

Dean laughed before turning to Cas. “Let's just go get in line before we suffer at the hands of the Leahy like Sam.”

Sam and Eileen went to look for a place where they could all sit again, playfully bickering the entire way.

While he was standing in line with Cas, Dean looked over at his brother, and found him and Eileen sitting at a small table in the corner.

Cas was still helping him learn ASL, so he caught parts of their conversation.

“If Jack is in every drop of rain, do you think he's in your water?” Sam signed, trying to contain his laughter.

Eileen pushed her water away with a look of disgust. “You’re lucky I love you.” She answered back.

“I know I am.”

He watched her silently laugh before turning back to look at Cas.

They really did have it good, didn't they?

“What are you ordering, Dean?”

Dean stood there silently, contemplating. He internally weighed his pros and cons, mind leaving the menu entirely. While there was still a lot of shit he had to work through, (shit he had been actively not working out his entire life), there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.

He would always choose Cas.

“You know what?” He reached out and grasped Cas’s hand firmly. “I was thinking about being less boring. What ingredients do you suggest I try?”

Cas smiled warmly, reaching the crinkled corners of his eyes. “They have a cinnamon flavoured one. That’ll be almost like apple pie.”

“Will it really?” Dean’s tone was dismissive, but there was a smile on his face.

“Yes, Sam told me.“

“Not that I trust Sam’s judgment, but okay, I think I’ll take one of those.”

“I'm going to have a real pumpkin spice latte this time.” Cas seemed very pleased with the aspect of buying something they could make it home, but Dean wasn't going to fault him for it.

The patron in front of them finished ordering, clearing the way for Cas and Dean. The barista from the first time they went caught sight of them and made a face. “Wait a minute. I think I know you two.”

“Yes, we came here yesterday.” Cas helped. “Well, we actually visited twice, but you weren't working the second time.”

“Right... John and John, how could I forget?”

“This time we're ordering for four though.”

“I would like a…” Dean squinted at the menu, looking for the cinnamon flavoured coffee. “‘Cinnamon Dolce Latte.’ And my devilishly handsome friend here will take the pumpkin spice version.”

“And what are the other two drinks and names?”

Dean whispered something in Cas’s ear. “I'll drink the coffee, but I won't budge on this one.”

“That's okay Dean, you’ll get there eventually.” He whispered back.

The barista looked unimpressed with them. Again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Ahem, sorry. The tall one with the stupidly long hair,” he pointed towards Sam, “is getting…” he trailed off before looking to Cas for help.

“I don't know, man. It was something sickly looking. Cold? Green? Possibly tea?”

“And Iced Green Tea Latte?” The barista suggested.

“That's the one. His name is Jimmy.”

“And the lovely lady sitting next to him would like the strongest drink you have. Her name is Robert.”

“Her name is Robert…?” He slowly pointed towards Eileen, sounding unsure of himself.

Or them.

“Yup.” Cas said.

Eileen gave a little wave from across the room.

He gritted his teeth in a very clearly fake smile. “Coming right up.”

They paid for their coffee and picked it up, taking the travel cups across the room and towards Sam and Eileen.

Cas took a sip from his pumpkin spice latte, gleefully smiling. “As much as I like trying different drinks, I think I might start just getting this one. It's my favourite.”

Sam leaned over to Dean, neither one taking their eyes off of Cas. “Should we tell him the drink is seasonal?” He glanced at Sam, before staring back at his partner, whose face was beaming like a literal ray of sunshine.

Dean’s face softened. “Nah. Let’s not ruin his moment.” He took a sip of his cinnamon coffee and damn, it was delicious.

Nothing at all like apple pie, but still delicious.

Cas walked over to him, making eye contact in a silent question. Dean nodded with a small smile, and Cas took his hand.

“I love you.” Cas whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

They didn’t whisper to hide, and it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was because that exchange was just for them.

Dean leaned in and softly kissed Cas.

Now that was to tell everyone in the shop that his devilishly handsome friend was spoken for.

Slowly, the sun would come out and shine through the stained-glass window, shadow portraying the picture of an angel.

And alright, fine, Dean could admit that he enjoyed the peppermint mocha.

He thought about it for a moment, before giving a light chuckle, realising something.

“What?” Cas asked, turning to look at him with a soft smile resting on his face.

“Nothing.” Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’s hand in his. He took a sip from his coffee, relishing in the warm and cozy flavour enrapturing his tongue.

He was only thinking that maybe, just maybe,

Cas had changed him too.

---

Bonus Epilogue:

Dean held the glass door open for the other three, and they all walked out onto the asphalt, laughing, and making their way towards Baby.

The street lamp overhead flickered, and all four of them froze.

“Did anyone happen to get the salted caramel macchiato?” Dean whispered.

---

-This fic on Ao3 (Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.)

-Writing Tag

-Ao3

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justahopelessssromantic · 4 years

Text

Perfect

Part 9

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 10

A/N: Oh man guys. I thought last part was tough and emotional but this part just fucked me up. I think this was the most emotional thing I have written so far and have made myself very sad almost to the point of crying just thinking about it. Hang in there with me guys. I apologize in advance for what you are about to read. As always thank you so much for your support. I love you all 💕

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Angst; miscarriage

Angel slowly came to as the sun shined through the curtains and into his eyes. It took him a moment to come back to reality. He slept hard and quite frankly better than he had in forever even with the heavy emotions of the night before.

He dreamed of you, holding him. You were tangled together in bed, kind of like you had been when he fell asleep, and you were just holding him and he you. He caressed your hand smiling as he traced the silver wedding band around your finger. His gaze then wandered down to your very round belly, pregnant with his kid and his hand traveled down to rest against it, the child inside kicking against his touch. There was a creaking of a door that caught his attention causing him to look up. At the foot of the bed were three beautiful children giggling and smiling as they jumped into bed with you, their parents. You laughed and it was infectious surrounded by the similar ones of your children. He looked over to you smiling up at him, the kids now snuggled around the both of you and he leaned down capturing your lips with his soaking in the simple moment with his family.

He dreamed that he hadn’t driven you away. He dreamed of the life he could have had if he had made so many different choices, if he had only made the right ones, if fate had been less cruel.

His heart sank realizing it was only a dream as he became more aware of the here and now. He was laying on his stomach with the comforting pressure of your body on top of his, the side of your face nuzzled against his back. He could feel your chest rise and fall on top of him as you slept soundly. He didn’t want to disturb you but he had to get up, to try to clear his head before you woke.

Lifting himself very carefully and twisting a bit he took your arm in his, unwrapping it from his torso and slipped off the side of the bed out from under you. Once he was free he watched you, holding his breath as you snuggled into his pillow and releasing it once he knew you were still fast asleep.

Relieved that he had not woken you he couldn’t take his eyes off you and stared just a while longer. Your features were so relaxed, eyes gently closed, mouth slightly agape, your hair falling into your face. Reaching out he pushed it away, his finger lingering on your forehead just a little too long as the longing for what could have been tugged at his heart.

He should have proposed that day, or hell any day after that. He had the ring, had everything planned out, but no, he got scared, he chickened out afraid of the change, afraid that the dynamic between the two of you would change. Why? He didn’t really fucking know. He should have proposed, then maybe just maybe things would be different.

And then that horrible night came really changing everything in the worst way possible. After that he couldn’t do it, all the two of you could see was your pain and your loss.

He should have never started working with the rebels. He wished he had never met Adelita, no he wished he had never fallen for her. She was just so different, so strong and passionate about her cause he got sucked into it all, got sucked into her, thankful for the escape from his crushing reality. And because of that, because of his mistakes he lost sight of what he had waiting for him. He lost sight of you, and he took advantage of your love, of your loyalty.

But he was broken and so were you. Angel doesn’t do well with feeling helpless and he had never felt so helpless in his life before that. He couldn’t help you, he couldn’t fix your pain let alone his own. He started working with the rebels as a way to take some form of control back into his life, to help his club and to have a purpose. It wasn’t fair but coming home was painful and the longer he stayed away the easier it became to ignore it all.

Shaking his hair out he took one last look at you before slipping away and into the bathroom. He closed the door quietly behind him before bending over and picking up your discarded clothes from the night before that you must have been too tired to deal with. Tossing them into the hamper beside the counter he situated himself in front of the sink as he felt his breath become ragged with all the emotions.

Looking at himself in the mirror he rubbed his tired face. Running his hands through his hair then he attempted to tame the mess it had become in his sleep before slapping his face a few times to alert himself more. The tattoos of your initials and the tiny white heartbeat ink that came many years later across his ribs under his left peck caught his attention pulling him into his thoughts again.

It was a surprise for you, the initials, a spontaneous decision. It had only been a few months since the two of you had confessed your love for each other and he was head over heels. It was one of the very first things he had inked upon his skin in such delicate and beautiful handwriting. He’d remember the shock and smile on your face after he revealed it to you forever. It was his way of showing you his love and dedication to you, his promise to you.

A promise he inevitably broke.

Snapping himself out of it before he got lost in them so deep he couldn’t escape he finished his business before stepping out of the bathroom cautiously moving across the room so as not to disturb you. Picking his clothes up he pulled on his jeans and threw on his shirt before sneaking out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him and buttoning it up as he made his way to your kitchen.

You were always so organized it was no surprise to him that that had not changed. He found the ingredients he was looking for to whip up breakfast for you easily. Cracking a few eggs into a bowl with milk, vanilla, and cinnamon he began whisking the mixture together with ease. He may not have been as skilled as you in the kitchen but strawberry french toast was his specialty, the comfort food of yours he always made after a rough day or if you were down. He first made it after that asshole Johnny broke your heart in high school, then when your boss promoted your dick of a coworker instead of you who worked your ass off deserving it more than him, followed by the passing of your nana, and the very last time being after the miscarriage.

In Angel’s mind that was the beginning of your relationship’s downfall. The beginning of the end.

You awoke yourself to find the bed vacant of Angel’s warmth. You slept well, better than you had in a long time, still even though you were physically well rested emotionally you were drained. To be honest you were a little disappointed to wake to an empty bed but you couldn’t expect him to hang around. It wasn’t fair to him when you didn’t even know what it was you really wanted.

Yawning as you scratched the back of your head you walked out of your room in search of some caffeine. The sweet smell wafted out of your kitchen as you heard the sizzling of the fry pan. Stepping into the kitchen Angel’s back was to you as he flipped the bacon over. You leaned against the doorframe watching him with a smile, the pang in your heart was there with memories from your past, but the gesture still filled you with love. It was his way of showing you he was there for you when the pain was too consuming for words.

Placing the bacon onto the plates already filled with the french toast, he topped the dish off with a few more strawberries and some powdered sugar after he turned the burner off. He could feel your gaze on his back, had heard your steps as you made your way towards him. He could pick you out from a group of people just by the little noises you made that he had become accustomed to throughout the years. Gathering his composure he turned around, plates in hands, to face you.

“Good morning,” he said taking the plates to your small table and placing them down, “How’d you sleep?”

You pulled the chair out sitting down in front of the plate of food, your stomach grumbling at the sight, “I slept well. What about you?”

“Me too,” he replied, pouring you a cup of coffee each before settling across from you, “How are you feeling?”

“How are you feeling?” You shot the question back at him. Obviously you both already knew the answers, knowing the pain of the other so well as if it were your own and in a way it was.

“Right.” Angel hated this. The awkward small talk, the pain that consumed the both of you, and mostly the rocky ground your relationship was on. Everything was so complicated, your ties to each other long and twisted. He didn’t know how to be around you, a million thoughts and emotions ran through him whenever you were near.

You looked down at your plate wanting to take a bite but getting stuck in the heartache, “The last time you made these was,” you paused taking a shaky breath.

The pregnancy wasn’t planned, still Angel was so elated when you showed him that positive pregnancy test. He immediately grabbed your face in his hands brushing the tears off your cheeks, a smile shining across his. “Why the hell are you crying mi dulce?” He had said pulling you to look him in the eyes, “This is amazing! I’m going to be a dad!” He had said almost in disbelief. He had never been happier or so sure of something in his whole life. If Angel’s purpose was just to be one thing in life it was to be a father. He immediately kissed you pulling you down on top of him across your bed. He was so happy, his excitement melting away all your worries. You were terrified to tell him, worried he wasn’t ready, scared of what bringing a child into your lives would look like, but Angel was quick to vanquish all those fears of yours. Soon you were both in love with the idea, ready to be parents to your perfect little one.

And all too soon your lives were turned upside down once more with the loss.

No one knew outside you and Angel, not even Felipe or EZ. The loss and pain was yours alone, just another thing tightening your hold on one another’s lives.

“Was,” your voice broke. It never got easier with time and being here with him after everything else was just too much.

Reaching over he placed his hand on top of yours, “I know.” You looked up at him, a stray tear rolling down your cheek. His own eyes pooled with tears as he looked into yours.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, taking your free hand to wipe the moisture off your cheek, glancing away before his own sorrow looking back at you broke you.

“Would you please fucking stop that?” He begged. You had nothing to be sorry for. He hated seeing you like this.

“What?” You asked, meeting his eyes again getting lost in them.

“Apologizing for shit you don’t need to.”

Flipping your hand under his you entwined your fingers with his squeezing, “You don’t know how much guilt I carry Angel,” you whimpered, “I know I wasn’t the only one hurting. I just couldn’t see past my own suffering. I retreated into myself leaving you alone and I’m sorry for that.” There was no point in trying to fight the tears. You knew you just had to sit in the pain of the picked at wound from your past or it would claw its way at you the rest of the day.

“You’re doing it again, querida.”

“Do you ever think about what they would have been like? Who’d they look like more? If it was a boy or a girl?” You asked, ignoring his comment, “Do you ever think about them?”

“All the damn time.” He said honestly. It was true there wasn’t a moment he didn’t think about it. To this day he still carried the small sonogram photo in his wallet, “I can still hear the little heartbeat when it’s quiet.” Angel didn’t spend much time sitting in silence, it was too painful. He much preferred keeping himself busy in any way possible but when he did it was always haunting him.

He remembered making up some lame excuse to slip out of work for your first appointment. He had never been so excited and nervous at the same time in his life. It was a miracle he didn’t get pulled over with how fast he was going so he wouldn’t be late. The minute he pulled up and saw your smiling face looking back at him waiting outside of the hospital all the nerves left his body.

Squeezing your hand tightly he couldn’t take his eyes off the monitor as the doctor pointed out all the parts of the baby, your baby. He couldn’t stop the tears falling down his cheeks and he didn’t want to. There it was before him, the love between the two of you coming together to form a beautiful new life. He was in awe as he watched the little thing on the screen. And then the thumping that followed shortly after just took his breath away. He could listen to that heartbeat forever. He didn’t think it was possible to love you any more than he had until that moment. The speed in which your child stole his heart was incredible. He was overwhelmed with love as he broke his trance to look at you.

You watched him the whole time reading his face as every emotion passed through him. You cried with him the minute you saw his tears and the heartbeat was music to your ears. The room was quiet aside from the beating from the monitor but you didn’t need to say anything. Your eyes were enough to express everything you were feeling to the other. Leaning over you Angel pressed his forehead against yours, your hands still entwined. You felt his tears drop onto your cheeks mixing with your own as he let out a joyful sob. Wrapping your arms around each other you held the other, the only two people in the room as far as you were concerned. The doctor stepped away to give you two a moment alone.

“There’s really a little us in there,” Angel croaked out, voice just above a whisper, “The perfect little mix of you and me, mi amor.” Being here and seeing it with his own eyes, hearing it, made it all so much more real.

You nodded not trusting your own voice in the moment.

“I love you so much,” he confessed, cupping your face pulling back just enough so he could look in your eyes, “I’m gonna take care of our family, take care of you. Thank you,” he gulped taking a shaky breath, “For making me a Pops. Fuck, I love you so fucking much.”

You chuckled through your sobs at his curing, “I love you too Angel, always.” You pulled him down to you, your lips meeting in a salty kiss from all the mix of your tears.

It was just two weeks after that that all your dreams of becoming a family shattered. You woke in the middle of the night in intense pain grabbing for Angel. He quickly turned on the lamp beside the bed. You had pulled the blankets off yourself and that when he saw it, the blood. He had seen plenty of blood in his life but this was different and there was so much. Both of you knew that there was no hope but you couldn’t say it. His heart broke and he had never been so scared in his life as he rushed you to the hospital never leaving your side. He doesn’t remember hearing the doctor actually say it, he just remembers your cries, remembers holding you tight as you mourned together.

That shit broke you, him, and the relationship you built together.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, “Does it ever end? All the pain and shit we’ve been through. Haven’t we suffered enough?” Surly there had to be some sort of limit to the amount of pain one should have to endure in their lives. The two of you had to be getting close to that point.

“I don’t know, you would think so,” he replied running his thumb across the back of your hand as he blinked a tear off his dark lashes. Certainly you had suffered enough but he didn’t feel that he had. He deserved the pain for everything he had put you through. He wished so badly he could take all of yours for you, to free you of it once and for all. He would do anything for you.

“Now the foods gonna be cold,” you regarded looking at your plate of untouched food changing the topic, “Sorry. I ruined a perfectly good breakfast.”

“What the hell have I been saying?” He brought your hand up to his lips, his beard scratching comfortingly as he kissed the back of your hand before letting it go and grabbing his fork while wiping his eyes.

“Sorry,” you said once more before catching yourself letting out a half hearted laugh as you wiped your own tears away, him chuckling with you. You cut a piece of your toast scooping it into your mouth and savoring the taste even if it was cold, “Seriously Angel. Thank you for this and just being here.”

“Anything for you, mi amor. I know I fucked up but I will always be here for you.” He vowed to you. “I love you, (Y/N).” He always had and would forever.

“I love you too, Angel.” It was the truth. You would always love him too but sometimes that just wasn’t enough.

The two of you finished your meal in silence. You insisted on cleaning up but Angel was stubborn and helped anyways. Handing him the last plate he slipped it into the cupboard closing the door gently. Leaning back against the counter he gripped the edge as he watched you pour the last of the coffee into two to go tumblers.

“I need to get ready and then I can give you a ride to work if you want.” You remembered him telling you his bike was getting worked on and knew he’d have to be going in soon.

“That’d be great. Thank you.” He said. He watched as you made your way out of the kitchen and to your room shutting the door behind you. Mugs in hand he wandered out to your living room and made himself comfortable onto the dark suede sofa. He tapped on the ceramic as he waited looking at the well decorated room. You had really made this place into a home.

You got dressed quickly opting on no makeup besides some concealer to disguise the bags under your eyes. It would be a miracle if you didn’t cry again at least some time today. Slipping your tennis shoes on you took one last look in the mirror throwing your hair up and out of your face. You had told Felipe you would help him this afternoon and he insisted you take the day off. At the time you didn’t know why but after the events of last night now you knew. Still you needed to keep yourself busy today or you would most certainly drown so you were going to be going in regardless.

You exited your room to find Angel staring down at the two mugs in his hands. He looked up when he heard the door and gave you a half smile standing up and passing you your coffee.

“You ready?” He asked you, “If you need me to, I can call Bish, stay here with you.” He at least wanted to put the option out on the table. He wanted to offer you whatever it was you needed, to do anything to help ease the blow.

“That won’t be necessary,” you said. You needed to get out of the small home and away from Angel for just a while, everything being too painful right now. “I’m gonna help out Felipe today. I just need to keep busy, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. He followed you towards the door where you picked up your purse off the ground and your keys off the table by the entryway where Angel had left them. Heading out the door he turned the lights off behind him and waited as you locked up.

The two of you entered your vehicle spending the drive to the clubhouse in silence aside from the faint music from the radio playing through the speakers.

Perfect Tag List: @jadert15 @joalsglasses @chibsytelford @lover1307 @mrsamaroevans @expir3d-l0v3 @dearsamcrobae

Everything Tag List: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @agirllovespasta @howaboutash @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic

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ashtheshortstack · 4 years

Text

Cold Brew

Rating: G Ship: Kristoff/Anna Entry for Frozen Monster Mash Zine @frozines! Check it out here!

Tags: Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Witch!Anna, Halloween Fluff Fic, Love Potion Shenanigans!

Happy Halloween!

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Winters were harsh in the town of Arendelle. Anna was almost certain that was Elsa’s doing. Her sister loved to experiment with her ice spells. Elsa had even gotten so powerful that she didn’t even need a wand to cast them. But sometimes her elder sister’s exploration of her abilities went arie and sent Arendelle into another harsh cold snap without any warning. The citizens made jokes about it, often joshing about how you never really knew what the weather forecast would be in their town. But Anna knew the truth…

Anna was quite the opposite of her sister. While Elsa liked to cast spells and conjure snow, Anna took the potions approach. She wasn’t sure what it was about finding the right ingredients to mix the perfect spell that excited her so much, but it did. That’s why Anna decided to take a job at the local coffee shop since she loved to mix together concoctions so much.

Besides, she loved coffee.

It was during the end of October that the chill set over the town. Often there’d be more and more patrons coming in for warm pumpkin spiced lattes or even skipping ahead a holiday to the peppermint mochas. Anna could understand--she was a sucker for any type of warm cinnamon flavors herself.

And most of her coworkers--Ryder and Honeymaren--were in agreement with that. But Kristoff… that man’s taste in coffee was atrocious. He liked it black. Hardly any sugar. Despised when anyone put vanilla in his drink.

Anna thought he couldn’t be human… and she wasn’t even one.

While working at the coffee shop, she’d met a lot of valuable customers. She often had regulars who’d ask how her day was going but there was always one that stood out amongst the rest: Hans.

The gingered haired man always flashed her a winning smile, complimented her appearance, and just made her weak at the knees. Anna had never had a boyfriend before. She’d always been more shy around boys. Besides, their parents had kept them pretty sheltered from people because of their abilities they’d inherited from their mother. When their parents died, Anna and Elsa had to make it on their own. So, she’d never really had a real chance at romance.

Hans at a table, sipping at the coffee she’d made him. Anna hummed dreamily, leaning on her palms as she rested her elbows onto the counter. She couldn’t help but be entranced by him.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made her jump.

Anna looked up at Kristoff with a yelp. “What?” she hissed.

The blond smirked. “You got a little drool…” he motioned to the corner of this mouth.

Humiliation flashed through her, only when she reached up to her own mouth, she found it dry. Ugh! Why was Kristoff like this!? Always joking and teasing her…

He barked a laugh at her reaction as she pouted up at him. “C’mon, Anna, if you’re going to thirst after customers I’m going to give you a hard time about it.”

She scoffed. “But why?”

Kristoff rolled his eyes at that. “Because you don’t even know him?”

“Of course, I do!”

Giving her a flat look, the blond leaned onto the counter. “What’s his last name?”

“Uh.. it starts with a W.”

“Eye color?”

“Dreamy, obviously.”

“Best friend’s name?”

“Probably John.”

Kristoff snorted. “Anna, seriously? How do you even know he likes you? How can you be so hung up on a guy who doesn’t even know your name?”

“Sure, he does! I have a nametag!”

“Bet he’ll pronounce it wrong.”

Kristoff shook his head with a sigh. “Honestly, Anna, you’re a witch … don’t you think you could do better than that guy?”

Hushing him, she glanced around. “Keep your voice down! Jeez!”

Ever since Kristoff caught her doing magic and she had to explain to him that yes , she was a witch and they did exist, he’d agreed to keep her secret. But somehow… she thought it made him more protective of her ever since he’d found out. While she appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t get why he made such a big deal out of things.

He patted her head. “I’m just trying to look after the most magical girl I know,” he said with a grin.

Anna groaned, pushing off the counter, ignoring the flush rising on her cheeks at his complement. “What are you? A love expert?”

“Well, no. But I bet I know more about love than you do.”

With a harumph, she crossed her arms and shot the blond a sour glance. “Fine. We’ll see about that.”

Anna intended to prove Kristoff wrong. She’d show him! When she arrived home from work, she pulled on her cloak and stomped down to the basement. Elsa appeared surprised to see her sister stomping over towards the caldron.

“Anna?”

She hadn’t been trying to ignore her sister. But she was just so hung up in her own thoughts. Anna couldn’t believe how negative Kristoff was being about her love life. She’d never heard of him talk about a girlfriend! Only his interest in fixing cars and his dog, Sven. Which Anna did find interesting, of course, because Kristoff was her friend despite it all.

Anna quickly flipped through her spellbook, probably too aggressively, as she muttered to herself. All she wanted was for someone to love her… in a romantic way, that is.

“Anna, what’re you doing?”

She didn’t even look up when Elsa spoke, continuing to glance through the pages. “Looking for a love potion recipe… ah-ha! ‘Lover’s Brew’ that’s it!”

Elsa sighed, pinching her brow. “Why are you looking for a love spell?”

“So that I can prove to Kristoff that Hans likes me!”

“By casting a spell? Isn’t that cheating?”

Scoffing, Anna shook her head. “Of course not,” she replied with a wave of her hand.

Elsa shook her head with a knowing smile. “Just… please be careful. Taking a love potion into work seems a bit risky.”

Anna had already begun the process of scouring through their shelves to find the ingredients she needed. She stacked the bottles into her arms before laughing at her sister’s doubts. “Oh, please, Elsa… I’ll be completely careful--ooh!” she nearly dropped her essence of frog, but was able to regain her balance to catch it. That would’ve been a nasty mess to clean up. Essence of frog smelled awful.

The grimace on her elder sister’s face spoke volumes, but Elsa was completely used to her sibling’s antics at this point. So, she just left Anna to it and crossed the room back to her own spells. But Anna noticed the occasional glance of Elsa checking on her.

Anna followed the directions of the spell word for word. Pouring in each ingredient with precision, sprinkling the powders, and stirring with her wooden spoon. She winced when she had to yank out a strand of her hair so the potion would have a specific love interest. Usually with potions she was able to do a test run… but there wasn’t any way to test this love spell. So… she’d just have to hope for the best. Luckily, she’d check and there weren’t any that were detrimental. The spell would only last twelve hours unless made permanent with true love’s kiss.

Perfect.

Anna smuggled the potion into work in her pocket. The day was normal… except for the anxiety egging at her chest knowing what her ill conceived plan was. This was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea to force someone to fall in love. Besides, she only had the next twelve hours to kiss Hans so he’d be permanently in love with her. And then they could get married and live happily ever after, right?

When Has approached the counter at his usual time, Anna felt her heart flutter. Today was the day. This man she’d been pining after for so long… she could finally have him. But Hans didn’t seem to be his usual self. He wore a frown and as he scrolled through his phone.

“Hello, good morning,” Anna began in her practiced chipper tone. “Would you like your usual?”

With a sigh of annoyance, Hans glanced up from his phone. “Not today. Just large, black with two sugars.”

Huh. Interesting. That was Kristoff’s usual. She’d always called him plain and shamed him for it, but if Hans liked that too… maybe she’d been too hard on her coworker.

“Yes sir, coming right up,” she chimed.

Hans was looking down at his phone again only giving a hum in response before moving to the side to wait for his order. Anna went to work preparing the order. It wouldn’t take long to do such a simple drink. Or it shouldn’t have, at least. Anna sprinkled in the two sugars before glancing around to make sure no one was around. She took the vile out of her pocket and quickly poured it into Hans’ drink.

“What’re you doing?”

She yelped. “Jesus Christ, Kristoff! Will you stop doing that?”

His scowl only remained as he crossed his arms. “What’d you just pour in there?”

“J-Just some sweetener that I made.”

Kristoff glared at her. “And you just happened to want to test it on that guy? To what? See if he likes it?”

“W-Well, yeah! If he thinks this is the best coffee he’s ever tasted then maybe he’ll like me, right?”

“Anna…” he pursed his lips looking between the drink and her face. “That’s a love potion, isn’t it?”

Anna sputtered, rearing back. She hated how easily Kristoff could figure her out! How did he do that!? “Psht! What?? No! Of course not. That’d be entirely unethical and--”

“Yoo hoo! Anna!” Oaken called from his office. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Dread washed over her as she looked between her boss and the coffee. Kristoff seemed to reluctantly take the cup. “Go. I’ll give it to him.”

Blinking, Anna stared up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

After her meeting with Oaken (about maybe becoming assistant manager with Kristoff which was mind boggling!), Anna practically skipped out of the office. She looked over at Hans and noticed him sitting in his usual place. He would have to drink most of the cup for the potion to take effect, so she’d just have to wait until he threw the cup away.

She looked around for Kristoff to check with him if he gave the drink to Hans, but she couldn’t find the blond anywhere. It worried her a bit… Had he not given him the cup? Surely, Kristoff wouldn’t lie to her.

But she didn’t have time to think about it. When she saw Hans throw away his--hopefully empty--coffee cup, it was time for Anna to strike. It would take five minutes for the potion to take effect. So, she kept her eyes on the clock as Hans scrolled through his phone at the table. Anna stalked over there as soon as she could. Smiling sweetly at him as she walked up.

“Uh, hi,” she said.

Hans gave her a once over. “You made that first cup of coffee, right?”

First cup…?

“U-Um, yes.”

He glared up at her. “It was absolutely awful. I made your broody manager drink it to prove a point.”

Blinking, Anna gaped. “You--You what? ”

Hans scoffed. With each annoyed look that graced his features, Anna felt her heart chipping in her chest.

“The coffee you made was bad. It had an awful after taste. I didn’t know it was possible to mess up black coffee, but you did.”

Anna’s fists balled at her sides. “Are you this rude to everyone? ”

Hans balked. “ Rude? Please, you’re the one who can’t make coffee correctly. It’s a shame really… and here I thought you were cute. But it’s true, pretty girls are always dim.”

The slap rang out through the coffee shop. She hadn’t meant to… Hans seemed surprised, jaw ajar as he gaped. There was already a red mark on his cheek. Anna knew as soon as she got home… she was putting a curse on his ass. She couldn’t believe this was the guy she’d been fawning over for two months.

Honeymaren and Ryder were there in an instant. Honeymaren grabbed Anna by the arm and started to tug her backwards away from the man. “Come with me, Anna,” she said quietly.

Ryder assisted Hans out the door, where the ginger haired man shouted profanities and flailed wildly outside the door as her coworker did his best to defuse him.

Anger fueled through her. Anna’s chest was tight as Honeymaren led her into the break room. Well, that’s where Kristoff had been hiding apparently. The blond seemed stunned to see her being dragged in by their coworker.

Honeymaren sighed as she led Anna to the couch. “What happened?”

“He called me dumb,” she blurted out.

Pursing her lips, Honeymaren nodded. “Okay… I’ll start on damage control. We’ll talk in a bit. You two just--relax a bit.”

Anna heard her grumble something about how weird this day was as she headed out the door. When Anna looked up, Kristoff’s cheeks were pink when he stared at her.

“You drank it, huh?” she asked.

“He made me.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Letting out a sigh, he looked away from her. “He threatened to go to Oaken. Apparently, his father knows him. Told me he’d have you fired for making such a disgusting drink. I reminded him that you’ve made all of his drinks before and never had a problem, but he didn’t care. He told me if I drank the whole thing--because he had to taste it and someone else should to--that he’d let it go. Ugh, what an ass.”

“I’m so sorry, Kristoff. I’m so dumb… This is entirely my fault. I-I’ll have to fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“Well, Oaken just offered me a promotion and then I went and slapped a customer. I guess a memory wiping spell would be best.”

“Ah… I think Oaken would understand. If he knows Hans’ father, I’m sure he knows what kind of man he is.”

Anna just smiled in response, unsure if she actually believed that. But the way Kristoff was staring at her made her heart leap into her throat. Fiddling with her thumbs, she glanced up at him shyly. “A-Are you okay?”

“I drank a whole love potion that tasted like fish coffee… Not really. All I can think about is how much I want to kiss you--” he blurted before smacking a hand over his mouth.

A blush spread across her cheeks. “Really?”

Kristoff groaned, flopping his head onto the small table. “Yes. And how close I want to be with you. How much I want to hug you and touch you. How happy you make me--and how stupid you make me too. God, I love you.”

An ‘eep’ left her lips. “Kristoff, I-I’m so sorry. It’ll wear off in twelve hours and you won’t feel this way anymore.”

He scoffed in response. “Oh, please. I feel like this every day. It’s just amplified. Maybe, your love potion is more of a truth serum when the person already loves you.”

“Wait, what?”

Kristoff shook his head. “This is bad. I have to get back to work,” he murmured. The blond sat up, eyes making contact with her own. Suddenly, those honey-brown eyes glazed over. A pink hue spread along his cheeks. Locking eyes had apparently distracted him from his mission. She hadn’t meant for this to happen…

He was entranced it seemed as he slowly meandered over towards her. Kristoff sat on the couch beside her. He was staring right at her. “I love you.”

Anna plugged her ears. “Stop. No, you don’t. It’s just the spell.”

Kristoff’s gentle fingers were pulling her hand away from her ear. “No… Anna, I’ve felt like this since I’ve met you. The stupid potion is just making me say it.”

“You--You love me? Even though I’m a witch?”

He snorted. “What difference does that make? You’re Anna. Being a witch doesn’t matter. If anything, it makes you even more special. I had feelings for you before I found out. It didn’t change anything.”

“W-Why didn’t you say it before…?” she asked timidly.

“Because…” he ruffled a hand through his shaggy, blond locks. “I could see how much you really liked that guy. I just knew you’d reject me.” His hand was suddenly on her thigh. Anna jumped at the contact. Kristoff grimaced as he yanked his hand away. “Crap, I’m sorry. This spell sucks.”

She wanted to agree. But… she couldn’t. Had she been so focused on her stupid infactuation with Hans that she couldn’t see what was right there in front of her? Kristoff claimed that he had feelings for her before he drank the potion. What if that were true? Had she been friendzoning him? Quietly rejecting him without realizing it?

There were so many wonderful things about Kristoff. She loved hearing about his life… about his big family and Sven. How much he loved fixing cars as a hobby--even offering to help her out for free any time she needed it, despite knowing she could easily afford it. He kept her secret when he found out she was a witch. Granted, he was really freaked out at first, but who wouldn’t be?

Instead of avoiding her, Kristoff was curious and supportive. He asked questions regarding her magic. Wanted to know more about her…

When she was down, Kristoff cheered her up with his jokes, his teasing, his smile…

Oh… She was an idiot.

How had she not realized how much Kristoff meant to her? How his stupid grins made her chest ache. How he sent butterflies fluttering inside her?

Anna chased after his hand, catching his much larger palm in her own. “No, it doesn’t. I’m the one who sucks. I’m so sorry, Kristoff. You’ve been here all this time, and I was too blind to see it. I had no idea of your feelings. And now, I’ve basically forced you to spill them out.”

He gave her a dopey grin. “I’m pretty sure even if I wanted to agree that this is your fault, the spell won’t let me.”

Snorting a laugh, she smiled at him. “Promise me… In twelve hours when this spell wears off, you’ll still say you love me.”

“Only if you say it back.”

She giggled at that before scooting closer. “I can arrange that.”

Kristoff was leaning in, almost unconsciously it seemed. But he paused, leaning back and shaking his head. “Sorry. This is really hard to resist.”

“Good thing I didn’t make the stronger one, huh?”

“There’s a stronger one? ”

Anna nodded. “Mhmm.” her lids drooped as she glanced at his lips and to his eyes.

“I want to kiss you…” he muttered. “May we…?”

“We may…”

Cupping her cheek with his large palm, Kristoff tugged her in. Anna’s eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her. Her heart danced in her chest, pounding wildly against her ribcage. How could she have been a fool to deny this man? His lips were so gentle and soft against her own. His thumb brushed along her cheek. Anna couldn’t help but wind her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Yeah… she could get used to this.

When she pulled away, her lips barely left his. “We’re probably at about eleven hours, right?”

The breath from his short chuckle teased her skin. “I’d guess so.”

“So, in eleven hours… you’ll tell me you love me and kiss me like this?”

“I promise.”

#kristanna #kristoff x anna #the queen & her reindeer king #ash writes #frozen fic #anna x kristoff #kristanna fic #halloween fic #witch!anna #coffee shop au #modern kristanna #spoopy season #frozen monster mash zine

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izaswritings · 5 years

Text

Title: desert dawns

Fandom: RWBY

Synopsis: Finally in Vacuo, the team gets a chance to breathe... but for Oz, things are a little more complicated.

(Or: in which Oz actually has a nice moment, for once, somehow; team JNR attempt a baking gift, and Oscar is Sir Sleeping Through This Fic. Home may be far away, but that doesn't make where you are now mean any less.)

AO3 Link is here.

For a moment, Oz does not know where he is.

Eyes open, a ceiling above his head, the sheets are too warm but when he pushes them back something feels wrong—that is not my hand—

Awareness comes back to him. No, he realizes. That is not his hand at all. Oscar’s hand. Their hand.

He is awake. Oscar is not.

Oz takes a moment, sitting up, reorienting himself. The sense of Oscar, there in the back of his mind, is still deep in sleep and doesn’t seem keen on waking up anytime soon. Which is reasonable, Oz admits, looking out the window. The desert sky is as dark as it is clear, and the moon shines down bold and bright. It’s either incredibly late or unspeakably early; if Oz tries to get Oscar up, the boy will no doubt be cross with him.

And yet—Oz is awake, now, and in such a way he is not sure he can sleep again. Neither does the idea of lying still waiting for Oscar to wake up appeal to him. Their lips press. He frowns down at the hands that are not his own. Oscar does not stir. The room the boy shares with team JNR is utterly silent, soundless but for Oz’s own soft breaths.

Oz hesitates, then carefully pushes away the covers. He won’t go far, he decides. He’ll just… make a drink. Hot chocolate, maybe. He’ll sit in the small living room area of this house and watch the sunrise. It’ll at least be something to do.

They have been in Vacuo for almost a week, and even now the pause in the action is unsettling to him. Though kind of Theodore to procure them a place to stay, the almost-peace of Vacuo is weirdly off-putting after Atlas. There’s a tension to it, a sort of hesitation that lingers on, not just in Oz but in all the others, too— waiting, always, for the other shoe to drop.

The anxiety, from Oz and Oscar both, is exhausting. Combined with the heat of the desert, well… they have not been sleeping well at all lately.

Though it isn’t exactly hot now, of course— with the darkness comes a sharp drop, icy midnights. Oz has always loved this about the deserts: the swiftness with which it changes, the rapid shift in temperature and landscape. He has been reincarnated in Vacuo numerous times, and the memories remain, faint and fond. One incarnation had loved the desert sky so much he’d used to wake up at the break of dawn to watch the sunrise, each and every morning without fail.

Which— may explain why Oz is up, actually. Old habits die hard, and Oz is nothing if not full of old habits.

He considers this, turning to sit with their feet dangling over the edge of the bed. The desert midnight chill is in full swing for the moment: frost edging the window, icy wind snapping in the air. Oz pulls on a pair of socks—the floor is bitterly cold, and while Oz doesn’t mind it, Oscar might rouse at the sensation—and then drapes Oscar’s jacket on their shoulders. There, warm. If the boy wakes up anyway, he can’t say Oz didn’t try.

He picks up the cane as he heads out the door, and flips it through their hands as he walks.

The house is deathly silent as Oz heads for the kitchen, the whole house under the spell of sleep. The hallway is not nearly as dark as he thought, though, and Oz pauses when he sees why. The kitchen. The door is closed, but light spills out underneath. He can hear the very faint clatter of dishes. Someone else is up?

He considers turning back around, but, well. He’s come all this way for hot chocolate, it seems silly to turn away now. And it’s not like he’s against having company.

Perhaps it’s Qrow. He hopes so, vaguely. They are still not—on the best terms, he and Qrow, but Oz would like to change that. He… misses the other. Sometimes. Which is an incredibly strange feeling, given Qrow is right here with all the rest of them, but well. There is no-one for Oz to blame for that but himself.

He opens the door, stepping into the light, and regrets this decision almost at once.

“Cute boy Oz!”

Their eyes squeeze tightly shut, and Oz inhales deeply. “Miss Valkyrie,” he says. He doesn’t protest the nickname. It is, he has realized with something in his soul that might be despair, apparently useless to try. Eyes open again, he surveys the rest of the kitchen. Jaune Arc and Lie Ren are there too, all awake. A team meeting, perhaps? But why in the dead of night? And— odd. They had not tried to rouse Oscar.

He realizes suddenly he had missed their absence in the room, and frowns. How…unobservant of him.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” he asks, mild, and raises a brow when all three exchange immediately guilty glances. Interesting.

“Um,” says Jaune Arc, and then nothing more.

Well then.

Oz nods, understanding, and moves on into the kitchen, heading for the counter. None of his business, then, and if they don’t want him involved he will respect that. He extends the cane and taps it absently against the ground as he searches. Now, where do they keep the cups? And the powder, too, that’s important. He rifles through the cupboard. Cocoa, cocoa, cocoa… aha.

Lie Ren clears his throat just as Oz is getting down a cup; Oz glances back at him. “Is Oscar…?”

“No. He is still sleeping.” Oz considers the three of them. “I assume this is something you wish to keep from him?” He cannot exactly hide the sudden distaste this idea gives him. Oscar is fond of these three, to such a degree that Oz is beginning to feel the same, if only by proxy—they are Oscar’s friends, his confidants, and at this point, perhaps even his team. This exclusion bothers Oz in a way he cannot deny feels strangely personal.

But already Jaune Arc is waving his hands, looking panicked. “No, no, not like that,” he says, waving his hands down at Oz. “It’s just—um—”

“None of your business,” Nora Valkyrie is insisting, hotly.

“It’s a surprise for him,” Lie Ren says, and both teammates turn on him.

“Ren!”

“You can’t just give it away!”

“He just said Oscar was asleep. It’s fine.” Lie Ren meets Oz’s eyes. “Oscar… misses home. Mistral. He hasn’t said as much to us directly, but…”

“...It’s obvious,” Nora Valkyrie continues reluctantly, when the other trails off. Oz cannot deny that statement. It is indeed very obvious. Oscar had done well in Haven; had managed in Atlas. Vacuo, however, is unlike anything the boy has ever known—he has not complained, but his dejection had been obvious—to Oz, and, apparently to them.

He considers them. “So?”

“He mentioned this thing his aunt used to make,” Jaune Arc says, finally, apparently resigned to spilling the secret in full. “A Mistralian breakfast dish. So we thought, we were going to try…” He gestures. Oz follows his gaze. Pots, pans, ingredients on the table behind them.

“I see,” Oz says, mind whirling. He goes to take a drink, but he has yet to finish the cocoa—powder puffs before Oscar’s face and Oz draws the cup away, frowning down at it. He turns to the sink. Hot water, hot water… “That is kind of you.”

Nora Valkyrie is laughing at him. Oz ignores it with the ease of long years of practice, and reaches for the milk. Fantastic. Hot chocolate at last.

When he turns back around, Jaune Arc is staring at him. “…Don’t you want coffee? Or, like… tea?”

Now, why would he want that? “That is Oscar’s preference,” Oz explains, and sips at the drink. Not nearly as good as his stash at Beacon was, but store-bought powder will have to do. At least it’s sweet.

Even Lie Ren is squinting at him now. “…is that all you drink?”

Oz takes another sip. A long sip. He draws it out. All three children are leaning toward him, enraptured, caught in the spell, looking desperate for an answer. Jaune Arc is about to fall off his seat.

Oz lowers his cup. “Yes.”

Jaune Arc cants to the side. Nora Valkyrie puts both hands on the table and leans toward him, looking delighted. “But!” she says. “You had a teapot.”

“That I did,” Oz agrees. He still misses that teapot.

“Was it just—that whole time—” Her voice squeaks. “Cocoa?”

Oz takes another long sip. Jaune Arc twitches. He hides his smile in the rim of his cup. “Yes.”

Nora Valkyrie puts her head in her arms and cackles. Lie Ren looks exasperated. Jaune Arc looks somewhere closer to despairing. Oz steps forward, still smiling faintly, and surveys their table of food. “Ignoring my drinking habits,” he says, lips twitching with honest amusement when Nora Valkyrie cackles louder, “how goes your cooking attempts?”

Nora Valkyrie stops laughing. All three look at the oven with something like dread.

Oz takes another sip. “I see,” he says, and does his best to keep his laughter entirely internal. He taps the Long Memory against the ground, a rythmic knocking, and considers the problem. Now then. How best to go about this?

Oz looks down at the table, noting the ingredients and calling upon new-old memory. He knows the dish they are talking about. It is Oscar’s favorite, and a Mistralian staple; Oscar’s aunt, however, often put her own twist to the recipe. Oz takes another long drink of cocoa and lowers his cup, decision made.

“Oscar’s aunt makes it with cinnamon,” he says, turning away from the table to head for one of the nearby couches. “Also,” he adds, taking a glance at what looks like to be failed cooking test number one, “it cooks best under gentle heat.”

“Gentle heat,” Lie Ren repeats, sounding disgusted that he had not realized sooner, and Jaune Arc says, “Wait, do we even have cinnamon?”

“I’ll look!” Nora Valkyrie calls, and rockets off to the cupboards.

Oz smiles, faintly, and settles back on the couch, leaning the Long Memory by their side. He finishes his cocoa as they cook, only speaking when he sees a mistake in the making— less and less as the session drags on, and team JNR gets a hang of the dish. They are not bad at cooking— just chaotic— and soon he feels it’s safe to sit back and watch.

He doesn’t offer much more conversation beyond instruction, however. It is not that he and team JNR are on bad terms— it is simply that they are on more neutral ones. Oscar adores them, and they appear to adore him in kind; if not for the echo of Pyrrha Nikos who still haunts their footsteps, they would by now likely have started introducing themselves as JNOR. Oz gives them another two months before they start doing it anyway.

So no, they are not on bad terms—but the lingering shadow of Oz’s lies and the lives it cost them still hangs heavy. He suspects they do not blame him for Pyrrha Nikos’ death, for all that he blames himself, but rather they blame him for everything else—the false hope, the lie of possibility, the fact that every chance he gave them made it sound like they could save the world—a chance Pyrrha Nikos took and died for, never mind that the foe she faced was not Salem.

Lie Ren is setting up the dish on the counter, Nora making towers out of leftover ingredients, and Jaune Arc has transitioned to doing the dishes. Even with the hole in their team, Oz thinks, they are remarkably in-tune with one another. He is… glad, to see it. In the face of adversity, they have faltered and stumbled and then grown stronger together.

He may have never given them the same attention he gave team RWBY, but he always thought these three were capable of remarkable things. It is why he let Jaune Arc stay in Beacon, despite his painfully faked transcripts. It is a relief to know, at least on that… Oz wasn’t wrong to give them a chance.

The cooking drags on, and soon, so does sunrise. By the time the sun begins to poke out over the horizon, the final attempt is in the oven to bake, and Nora Valkyrie has bounced over to bother him once again.

She throws herself to sit at the couch armrest, and kicks her feet in the air. Her gaze is thoughtful, considering and suspicious in equal measure, and they both ignore the way her teammates have collapsed in exhaustion on the kitchen table behind her. “You,” she declares at last, “were being very helpful.”

“I am a teacher,” he reminds her.

“Was a teacher.”

“I have a degree,” Oz informs her, dryly. “Multiple, even. Am a teacher.”

She clicks her tongue. “Ugh, what-ever.” She leans back, eyes rolling, and kicks out her feet into the air. Oz waits, watching her, letting her gather her thoughts. At last she seems to find the words. “...Thanks for helping us not fuck up the dish, I guess. Jaune was super worried about it.” She glances back at the table, a momentary flash of worry on her face. “It—it is Oscar’s favorite, right?”

“Oh, no. He hates it.” Her head snaps around. Oz laughs quietly. “I apologize. That was in poor taste. Yes, Miss Valkyrie, it is his favorite. I think… he will like this very much.”

She scowls at him, then blinks, her eyes catching on something— the Long Memory, resting beside him on the couch. She gives the cane a puzzled look. “You brought your cane with you?”

He looks down; the cane, as it should be, is by their side. He puts a hand on the knob and shrugs. “Yes.”

“You just bring that thing everywhere, huh?”

“It is… dear to me.” He considers her, wondering how to spin this— but her expression is open and curious, her questions meant honestly, not mockingly. For all that Oscar is not awake, Oz can almost feel the echo of his exasperation. He hesitates. “Ah… you could say, Miss Valkyrie, that much like what the dish you are making means to Oscar… this cane, too, reminds me of home.”

Nora Valkyrie stops moving at once, her legs stilling mid-air. Behind them, Lie Ren and Jaune Arc have gone silent, pretending badly not to eavesdrop, and Oz can see them exchanging glances. Nora Valkyrie does not look back, however; instead she looks down at him, considering, her expression strangely solemn. “…Do you miss it, too?”

The question catches him off-guard, and for a moment Oz falters. The memories rise up in flashes, echoes of a different time, different places. A warm house and warmer hearth fire, the table they set for four. The two children, never willing to wait and never wanting to sit still—blue eyes, and a laughing face, a hand in his.

“Yes,” Oz says, after a long moment. The words are stilted. He suddenly feels very old, tired all the way to his bones. He puts down the empty cup.

Nora Valkyrie snatches it up. Oz blinks.

“One sec,” she says to Oz’s blank stare, and flies off to the kitchen. Oz watches, bemused, as team JNR confers around the cup and then repeats his actions from before, making a new batch of cocoa, that Nora then takes back and brings to Oz. She holds it out for him. Oz takes the cup warily.

“Thanks for helping us, old man Oz,” Nora says, and grins. “Give us a warning before Oscar wakes, okay?”

“…Of course,” Oz says, thrown by the new nickname, and watches her bounce back to her team. She chatters, and they laugh, the moment forgotten. He looks down at his cup and takes a sip of the cocoa. It’s not his usual mix— there’s a bit of spice to it. Cinnamon and chili powder?

…It’s good.

He stares down at it, contemplative, and hesitantly takes another sip. He looks back up at the team. They are laughing, distracted, debating on whether the dish is done or not. All three are smiling.

Oz considers them for a long moment, and then he turns away. This time, he’s smiling too.

Oscar wakes up mid-way through sunrise. When he senses the boy rousing, Oz takes the Long Memory in hand and raps the cane against the ground to alarm the team. They rush to hide the dish, freshly-baked; Oz turns their head to the window, and keeps their eyes on the desert sun.

What…?

“I apologize,” Oz says. In the reflection of the glass, Oscar’s eyes burn gold. “I woke before you. I wanted to see the sunrise.”

Oh. He gets the sense Oscar would yawn if he could. That’s fine… There’s a momentary pause, considering. Then: Why do I taste chocolate?

“It is a perfectly fine drink,” Oz says, in mild protest. Honestly, he has no idea what the boy has against it.

Sure, but in the morning? It’s an evening drink. Coffee is better.

Oz shakes his head, smiling faintly, and fades away to the background rather than rehash the old argument. Oscar’s head dips forward; the boy just barely catches himself from knocking them out against the glass. “Ow.”

Careful.

“Mm-hm.” He rubs his forehead. He goes to turn around—

“SURPRISE!”

—and screams at Nora abruptly popping up and shouting in his face, toppling right off the couch.

…Ah.

“What!?”

“Nora!”

“Ah, we just woke the whole house, didn’t we…”

The house is warm and bright, the desert outside turning a brilliant gold underneath the dawning sun. It is not home— it is nothing more than a temporary stop— but as Oscar splutters and Nora grins and the rest of team JNR clamor up behind her, there is a warmth that lingers on. They help Oscar to his feet and fumble to present their gift; they beam bright at his wordless joy.

The boy is delighted, and his team is pleased— team RWBY and Qrow and the others wander in with calls of confusion and delight and annoyance at the noise— and the smell of cinnamon lingers heavy in the air.

And it is not home, maybe, but it is something half-way there, and so Oz laughs, quiet and sincere, and sits back to watch the show.

#rwby #ozpin #rwby ozpin #oscar pine #team jnpr #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren #team jnor #team jnr #ozma #rwby7 spoilers #iza fanfic #please reblog if u liked it!!!! 💖

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