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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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I've been working out a little bit (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Spencer has been working out with Penelope, and they are doing their best to keep it a secret. Until (Y/N) finds out and tries to help. And though he doesn't want to because he is embarrassed about his poor athletic performance, somehow she manages to help.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Curses, frustration. Good old fools in love.

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello, pretty people! I've missed you! I hope you like this little story. It's one of the last requests pending on my list. Tomorrow I can finally visit my grandparents, I'll be taking care of them for at least two weeks, and though I know it's hard work, I am just so happy I can be with them again!! I miss them! Take care, whenever you are! Love you!

Masterlist

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

- "No fucking way, Spencer!" (Y/N) widened her eyes and laughed so hard tears filled her eyes. She was sitting at her desk at work, staring at her best friend, who could barely walk due to the two hours he had spent that morning training with Penelope.

- "Please, don't tell anyone."- he whispered and looked around the bullpen. He was too embarrassed already to let anyone else know he had to take the mandatory fit test. He wanted to avoid the jokes, especially Derek's.

- "Your secret is safe with me, as always, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and bit her lips, trying not to laugh anymore- "But why on earth are you working out? You have enough case hours to cover a fit test!"

- "Apparently, I can't skip it this year. Both me and Penelope have to take it."- Spencer whispered and sat down very slowly, pain written all over his face.

His best friend stared at him reading the mix of embarrassment and physical pain he felt with each movement he made. (Y/N) smiled and opened one of her drawers, looking for the last Snicker she had hidden in case of need. Watching Spencer in pain was precisely the case. She stood up and handed him the candy, making his heart skip a beat. Spencer did his best to hide the blush on his cheeks and just looked away.

- "I can help you if you want."- (Y/N) whispered and cut him the most adorable smile she had.

- "Help me what?"

- "Working out."- she replied and bit her granola bar- "I can teach you how to kick ass, and I do look hot wearing sweat shorts."

Spencer nearly chook. He flushed and closed his eyes, trying to cover up his embarrassment. But (Y/N) giggled and turned around. Her job there was done. Now Spencer had to be picturing her in her sweat shorts.

Of course, he was. He couldn't stop, actually.

The two agents were the youngest of the team, and somehow sometimes in-between cases, it showed. Especially when they were on their own, and their conversations ended up in casual flirting.

(Y/N) was head over feet in love with Spencer, though she was never going to face it. God knows Penelope had tried to force her to deal with her feelings. But she was closed as an oyster. No matter how much Garcia insisted or how drunk they were, (Y/N) kept denying her true feelings in public.

Spencer wasn't indifferent. Not at all. As a matter of fact, he was in love with (Y/N). Everything about her bewitched him. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, he felt it. She was tailor-made for him. If only he weren't a nervous wreck each time he saw her...

After two years working together, Spencer had managed to overcome part of my shyness and awkwardness around (Y/N). They were best friends, and they would usually hang out in their free time. The little free time they had in the BAU. But even when they could playfully flirt all the time, Spencer was sure she didn't like him that way. He convinced himself she was just joking.

(Y/N) headed to the Batcave holding a large frappuccino and knocked on the half-opened door before walking in.

- "Penelope García, I had the feeling you were running caffeine low."

- "Oh my pretty little thing! How do you do it? You read my mind!"- the tech analyst nearly hyperventilated as soon as she held her ice and creamed coffee.

- "Reid and I were out for a little break, and I knew you would like one of these to cheer up your afternoon"- Garcia sipped her frappuccino and nodded. But as soon as she had finished savoring the perfect coffee, she asked.

- "So, you and Reid..."

- "We were out getting coffee, like the best friends we are."

- "But, there's coffee here in the kitchenette. There's no need to go out and get coffee unless you want to find an excuse to be alone with him."- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and sighed. Garcia did that every single chance she got.

- "You and I know the FBI doesn't share our concept of "good" coffee."- (Y/N) looked at her friend and just smiled- "Besides, I told you, I felt you needed some extra sugar and joy in your life after your early workout session this morning."

- "That little snitch!"- (Y/N) chuckled and shook her head.

- "Don't get mad at Reid. He didn't tell me anything. I kind of figured there was something wrong 'cos he looked in so much pain just breathing."

- "Oh man, he is sored, but I am sure he would be way sorer if you train with him."

- "I offered myself to help him"- Garcia raised an eyebrow at (Y/N) 's words, and the young agent wide opened her eyes, blushing- "Stop staring at me like I'm a perv! I meant helping him train for the test. I could help you too."

- "Thank you, but no, thank you. I trained with you, and there's no way we are going to do all that boxing again."

- "Come on! You said you had fun!"

- "I did! I really did... but I could barely move the next day! And I had a date! I couldn't even dance, less doing... other... nevermind"- Penelope stopped herself in her tracks and shook her head.

- "Shit, PG!"- (Y/N) closed her eyes and chuckled- "Spare me the details."

- "Sorry... anyway... you and the little genius should definitely train in a more... horizontal way."

- "Garcia! Stop it!"- (Y/N) laughed and stood up- "I'm gonna go back to work 'cos clearly you have some hormonal issues today, and you are projecting."

- "Stop acting like you haven't thought about it!"- Garcia said and chuckled as her friend walked away.

- "I'm not telling you anything."

- "That means yes!"

- "No! it doesn't!"- (Y/N) was blushing; that's why she refused to turn around and look at Penelope.

- "Oh! It so does!"

The end of that day found Spencer even more sore, hungry and weary than he had felt in years. All he wanted to do was go home, eat pizza leftovers from the night before, and go straight to bed.

Until...

- "Hey, chipmunk!"- (Y/N) looked at Spencer, gathering all his things and getting ready to go home.- "Dinner at my place tonight. My treat."

- "I can pick the take out tonight?"- he said immediately and asked himself where did that come from if, a second earlier, all he wanted to do was to go to bed. Probably from the same place that kept coming back to the image of her in sweat shorts.

- "Even better. I'll cook"- (Y/N) answered and winked, playfully- "You deserve a proper homemade dinner after all the workout you did this morning."

Spencer looked at her and didn't even notice the silly smile on his face. If he had known how in love he was looking, he would have probably slapped himself. (Y/N) sighed and stood up.

- "I'm gonna take that silence as a "Great (Y/N)! Thank you! How considered! I'm so lucky to have you in my life".

Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

- "Thank you, (Y/N). But I'll give you more praise if your food turns out to be eatable"- the young agent gasped, pretending to be insulted by his words, and hit Reid's arm with her knuckles.

- "Auch! (Y/N)!"

- "I'm being nice, and you are insulting me! I'm having second thoughts about driving you over!"

- "I can take the subway! You are such a slow driver I can actually be there faster."

Spencer stuck out his tongue at her and ran to the elevator, 'cos his friend widened her eyes and ran after him, probably to hit him again.

Morgan and Prentiss stared at the scene in silence, sharing a few looks, both of them thinking the exact same thing: "When are these two goofs ever going to hook up?"

- "They are annoying"- Rossi stood next to Emily's desk and crossed his arms on his chest.

- "They are in love"- she corrected, but David shook his head and sighed.

- "I know, and they are adorable, but it's so annoying staring at the same scene over and over again, waiting for something, anything, to happen between them."

- "Are you turning into a bitter old man who completely forgot about the charm of being young and in love?"- Prentiss raised an eyebrow and turned to Rossi. The Italian stared right into her eyes and shook his head.

- "I'm just saying someone should try to tell them something."

- "I've tried to talk to him about her a million times. But Reid is one private kid."- Derek said from his desk as the three of them stared at Spencer and (Y/N) getting into the elevator, still arguing and playfully playing.

- "And he is so insecure. He doesn't think she likes him."

- "Likes him? She is clearly in love with him!"- Prentiss said, annoyed- "I swear, if nothing happens between them this weekend, I'm going to intervene."

- "Now who is forgetting about the charm of being young and in love?"- Rossi joked and sighed- "Come on guys, dinner's on me."

(Y/N)' s dinner was a success. Spencer ate two portions of honey mustard-glazed chicken bake. She even managed to make him eat vegetables. And Spencer didn't even argue. Not only because it was delicious, and his body really needed some homemade dinner. But also 'cos (Y/N) got him wrapped around her fingers, even without knowing it. And if she asked him to eat veggies, Spencer (no matter how much he would argue) would eat his damn veggies. And he could actually enjoy them.

- "Ok, chipmunk, you ate all your food. You earned your dessert"- (Y/N) smiled and picked the dirty dishes from the table.

- "Let me do that. You already fed me. The least I can do is do the dishes."

Spencer followed her moves and took the dishes to the sink. (Y/N) didn't argue with that. It wasn't the first time Spencer cleaned the kitchen with her, after all. They had been good friends, close friends, for a long time, and they were used to being around each other.

But this time, it felt somehow different. Like there was something in the air warning them things were about to change for good.

- "Ok, doc. Do you wanna eat your dessert watching tv for a while?"- (Y/N) handed Spencer an ice cream bowl with chocolate chips on top and some whipped cream.

- "A smiley ice cream bowl?"- Spencer chuckled as he stared at it. He loved it.

- "Yes, you are never too old to eat food with a smile on it. And that's a life lesson, Spencer Walter Reid."- she said and walked to the couch, holding the remote control.

- "You are filled with wisdom, (Y/N)"- Reid teased her and sat by her side.

- "I know. It would help if you let me train you. You would pass your fit test in a blink."- she said and continued surfing channels.

- "Thanks, but no thanks. I wanna do it on my own."- Spencer glued his eyes on the screen and ate his dessert. (Y/N) just nodded and continued surfing channels.

- "Why?"- she asked him after a few minutes. They had been watching an old movie in silence, just eating their ice cream.

- "Why what?"- he whispered and looked at her just for a second. He didn't trust himself around (Y/N), especially under those circumstances: alone in her house. She had changed into leggings and an old extra-large sweatshirt. Her hair was in a messy bun. And Spencer didn't feel able to look at her into the eyes, 'cos he was going to cave in. He was going to grab her face with both hands and kiss her right there. No questions asked.

Which is why he avoided looking at her.

- "Why don't you want me to help you train?"

- "Just because"- he answered and glued his eyes to the screen. But (Y/N) knew better. She moved closer to him on the couch and held his hands. Spencer shivered right away at the sensation of her skin. It was so warm and soft. All he craved was some more of that. He wanted to feel her. Touch her. Taste her.

His head was going way too fast, and just because she held his hand.

- "Spencer, look at me"- she whispered and practically begged her friend to pay her attention- "I just wanna help. It's just a stupid fit test. It ain't hard."

- "For you."- he mumbled and looked down at his hand as her fingers played against his skin.

- "I didn't want you or anyone to help me 'cos I'm a fucking SSA who should be perfectly able to perform a simple fit test on his own. But no. I can't! And do you know what that means?"

- "That finally I know there's one thing you are not good at?"- she answered and smiled at him. Spencer raised his eyes and met hers. He knew his cheeks were all shades of pink, but for once, he just didn't care. He just wanted to look at her and see if she meant it. Or if she was just teasing him.

- "Right"- he snorted and shook his head.

- "I mean it, Spencer. You don't have to be good at everything."

- "It's a fit test. It's basic to be an agent. I need to be able to catch an unsub."- (Y/N) frowned and tried to understand where all that self-doubt and insecurity was coming from. To her eyes, Spencer had nothing to be ashamed of. To her, he was perfect in every single way.

- "You already catch unsubs, chipmunk. Everyday. You don't have to kick down doors to make a profile. And you don't have to run six miles to get the bad guy. Everything that you do every day at work is what an SSA is supposed to do. And you excel at it."

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at her best friend, trying to push aside the urge she felt to kiss him. His golden-brown eyes looked so big, like honey pools, she could stare for a lifetime. Spencer didn't know what to say. He really wasn't good with praises. He wasn't used to them. Not in that way.

- "Besides"- (Y/N) added after a few seconds of silence when she realized she might have said too much and started panicking.

- "It feels good to finally know there is one thing I am better than you at."

- "What are you talking about?"- Spencer answered right away, in the sassiest tone of voice.- "Just because I suck working out doesn't mean you are better. Even at my lowest, I'm still better than whatever you can do in a gym."

Reid was obviously joking. He knew (Y/N) could kick ass. Not only had she saved his life many times on the field, but also, he had seen her working out. And she could definitely kick his ass if she wanted to.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to tease her just because.

- "You take that back, Reid!"- she threatened him and

- "No"- he sentenced and crossed his arms on his chest

- "Last chance. Take it back, or you will pay for it."

- "Make me."

And that was it.

In a second, (Y/N) was on him tickling him, and trying to practice a chokehold on him. But Spencer was faster, and somehow, stronger than her. Maybe it was because he was struggling with himself. A part of him wanted her closer, and a part of him didn't want her too close, 'cos he knew his pants were going to start feeling too tight if she did.

Whatever the reason was, after two minutes of wrestling, Spencer had (Y/N) pinned down against the couch. And the way she panted against the fabric of the cushion wasn't helping him with his pants.

- "Spencer, it hurts"- she cried and tried to move from his grip, but he didn't let her go.

- "If you want me to release you, you have to say I am the best agent in this house."

- "Never!"- (Y/N) quickly answered and continued struggling.

- "Just say it, I've got you held, and I'm not going to let you free until you say it."- something in his tone of voice, it was teasing but also... sexy? (Y/N) knew Spencer wasn't trying to act that way, but it was working for her in a way she hadn't imagined. He would be so soft. And now, there he was, acting like a dominant man, holding her tight, not letting her move, literally pinned against the couch.

If only it were all happening in a different context.

- "Let me go, Spencer Reid!"- (Y/N) battled against his arms, but it was useless

- "Just say it"- he leaned in and whispered in her ear, and (Y/N) sword she could almost feel his smile as he spoke.

- "You are the best agent!! There, happy?"- she mumbled, making her best to sound annoyed and not turned on. Spencer released her, and she quickly sat down properly, rubbing her left wrist.

- "Did I hurt you?"- Spencer whispered and noticed how flustered she was. That was a first.

- "No. But I gotta tell you, you are stronger than I thought."- she said and stuck out her tongue to him, trying to be playful and innocent, though you could feel it in the air. That moment was anything but innocent.

- "Yeah, I've been working out a little bit."- Spencer answered and chuckled at his own words.

- "Well, you are going to have to learn how to control your new strength, 'cos this is going to leave a bruise"- (Y/N) whined and showed him her sore wrist. Spencer winced, ashamed he had been so hard on her without meaning any harm. He moved closer to her and held her wrist carefully. (Y/N) just looked at him as he kissed her wrist a few times.

That man couldn't be real. He was such a tease.

Did he know all the things he was, in fact, doing to her with that simple touch?

He surely had to know. Otherwise, there was no explanation, she thought.

- "Thanks"- (Y/N) whispered and fixed her eyes on his lips, still landing small kisses on her wrist.

That was when she stopped breathing. Spencer was literally breathtaking. He smiled at her, and she just couldn't help it anymore. (Y/N) leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, short peck. But she had dared to do the unthinkable.

She kissed her best friend.

Spencer widened his eyes, shocked, and looked at her, not saying a word. They just stayed still for a good thirty seconds until Spencer finally made his move, cupping her jaw carefully with both hands and pulling her face against his.

The way she moaned into the kiss made him feel more in control than he had ever been before.

It was a soft kiss but intense. Spencer's lips rubbed carefully against her mouth, and his tongue moved carefully, making its way until he could taste her. (Y/N) moved closer to him until she was basically sitting on his lap, and his arms wrapped around her body, locking her against him.

They were in heaven.

Until it was over. Their phones buzzed at the same time, breaking the spell, ending the charm. (Y/N) jumped from Spencer's arms and grabbed her phone.

- "We've got a case"- she whispered and turned to him. He was agitated, his cheeks were red, his pants felt tight, and he was starving for more of those kisses.

- "Ok."- he replied but didn't move.

- "I'm gonna change, then we can go."- (Y/N) added, but he didn't say a word. To be fair, Spencer wasn't processing what was going on. He was still trying to elaborate a coherent thought. And most of all, he was fighting the boner in his pants that didn't let him stand up.

You could blame all the sugar in his body after the massive bowl of ice cream, or all the praising (Y/N) had given him, but Spencer found a new level of courage in that kiss. He decided it was time to stop overthinking it. It was time to act on his feelings.

- "(Y/N)"- Reid knocked on her bedroom door and heard her from the walking closet.

- "I'm almost ready. Did you talk with Garcia?"

- "No, but I don't wanna leave things like this. I wanted to talk about what just happened."

(Y/N) sighed and took a look at herself in the mirror. She could still feel her cheeks burning after that kiss, after feeling her best friend hard underneath her body, holding her against him. But she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what Reid was about to say. Most of all, because she was sure it was going to be something along the lines: "That kiss was a mistake, you are my friend. I don't wanna ruin this."

- "That kiss was..."- he mumbled and walked to her as soon as she showed up in the room, but words were hard to find when she looked at him that way.

- "Spencer, I..."- she tried to speak, but he just continued.

- "Would you like to..."

- "Pretend it didn't happen?"

- "Go out on a date with me?"- the two of them said at the same time and widened their eyes in shock.

- "What?"- (Y/N) questioned and stared at her best friend in shock- "You want to go out with me?"

- "You want to pretend it never happened?"- he asked her, scared he might have rushed to the wrong conclusions.

- "No, no, no, I don't... I can't pretend it didn't happen"- (Y/N) quickly answered and held Spencer's hand, afraid she might have ruined everything.

- "I was just scared you were going to reject me or..."- (Y/N) bt her lips and dared to look at him- "I wanna go out on a date with you"- she whispered and watched his whole face change as a big silly grin drawn on his lips.

- "Really?"- he murmured, still not sure it was actually happening. He asked her out. She said yes. He was sure that was never going to happen in real life.

- "Really"- she assured him and leaned in slowly to kiss him one more time. But her phone rang again, and so did his. This time it was a message from Hotch. Wheels up as soon as they reached the FBI.

- "But after we catch the bad guy."- (Y/N) added, and Spencer chuckled.

- "Sounds like a plan."

Spencer Reid’s taglist:

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

Requested by @shilohpug

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes #babymetaldoll edits

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curlynerd · 3 years

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Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas’ smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #userstarry #deanwinchesteradjacent #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #katie writes things #long post

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clintbartonswife · 3 years

Text

tender but tough

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Peter Parker Summary: Ever since Vanessa, Wade had been scorned from even a friendly shoulder touch even when he was in the suit. Peter realises this. Whumptober no.6: touch and go Notes: touch starved wade, college!peter parker, not as angsty, but the whump’s there. masterlist

Watching Wade Wilson was a pastime that Peter had come to love.

Ever since meeting him a few weeks ago, he had been drawn to the man, watching from afar as he tried to work up the courage to speak to him once more.

Upon spying (Ned had called it stalking but he had quickly stated that he didn't seek the masked man out, instead only watching him when he naturally came across him in the city. The word was quickly changed to ‘pool spotting’, and Peter had grudgingly complied.) on Wade, he had managed to come to three conclusions.

Number one: Wade Wilson was a creature of habit. Despite his seemingly erratic movements, he would always buy food from the same three places - if he didn’t already have a pre-cooked meal in his hello kitty lunchbox. Peter had at first wondered if that meant that Wade had someone at home who cooked for him, but after a very loud conversation on a roof with someone called ‘yellow’ and ‘white’, knew for certain that he was “painfully alone and in desperate need of a quick fuck or someone to hold”. He especially loved his Mexican food, often returning to his favourite roof top with two bulging bags of of the stuff.

Number two: Wade kills, and he does it a concerning amount. Normally, whenever Peter was on his pool spotting expeditions and he saw him getting his katanas out (he had once heard him call them Bea and Arthur), he would swing by, web up the bad guy, and swing away while shouting some different iteration of ‘don’t kill him, please!’. He would later hear people talking about others Deadpool had killed once he had gone home, though the webbed ones were never touched. Peter prided himself on his very anti-killing stance, but something about Wade made him curious - enough to put his moral code on the backburner and instead feel the need to help him change for the better.

Number three, and arguably the most important: He had never seen anyone touch him. Sure, people had thrown punches, violently approached him, but never once had he seen anyone touch him with anything less than hate. This is what finally convinced Peter to approach him.

“Hey Webs”

Wade was sat with his legs overhanging the roof of the building, mask half pulled up over his face and a burrito halfway to his mouth.

Peter took a deep breath before he spoke, settling his nerves, “Hi Wade.”

“Aaah, he speaks! How are you doing baby boy.”

Peter flushed at the nickname, face heating up under his mask, “Uhh -”

Wade let out a laugh, placing his burrito down and pulling his mask back over his face before turning to face him, “Well, he tries to speak.” Wade tilted his head to the side slightly, patting the surface next to him, waiting until Peter sat beside him, “I’ve been seeing you around a lot, but we haven’t really spoken since the last - no Yellow I’m not trying to guilt him - shut up White.”

Peter just looked at him.

“Sorry - it’s the boxes-” Deadpool said, with a strong jersey accent, waving his hands around his head animatedly, “You wouldn’t get that reference, shame. I love Margot Robbie.”

“Who?”

“Oh, Webs” Deadpool sighed, patting his masked cheek condescendingly, “The world of joy you’re missing out on.”

That’s another thing that Peter found out after hanging out around Deadpool for a few months - he would instigate touch, but shy away whenever Peter would go to return it, shrugging it off with a quick joke or pun.

It was on the third month of knowing Deadpool that Peter decided he would address it. The two of them had become extremely close, and Peter had found himself trusting the older man quicker than he ever had before. It was only one day at Stark tower during a quick drop-in visit to see Tony, that the billionaire had pointed out how quickly Peter had become comfortable with him.

“Webs, webs, webs. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you today?”

Peter smiled, sitting cross-legged beside Wade as he unloaded the two bags of Mexican food. “Just wanted to see your gorgeous face, as always.”

“Always a charmer - and a beautiful liar at that.”

“How do you know I’m beautiful? For all you know I could look like a troll under this mask and you’d never know.”

Wade’s mask warped as he raised his eyebrow, “With an ass that phat? Baby boy, you’re nothing short of an angel.”

He wouldn’t know why he had done this until many years after the fact, looking back in hindsight. Peter had let out a small laugh, and ripped his mask of with a grin, “Well damn Wade, someone would think that you’re sweet talking me.”

Wade went quiet - something Peter had never known him to be - and sat back heavily. At the silence, the younger man’s smile dropped slightly, turning more nervous, “Is this a case of ‘if you’ve got nothing nice to say don’t say anything at all’ type-a deal?”

“No.” the answer was so fast that Peter let a nervous laugh escape, “You’re - you look better than every wet dream I’ve had about you combined.”

Peter laughed loudly at that, relief making his head feel slightly woozy, raking his hands through his curly hair.

“I’m not kidding - I mean I knew your body was good - but your face! ” Wade’s voice was higher than it normally was, disbelief clear in his tone, “You gotta body of a stripper and face of an angel, y’know that?”

“Wade-”

“And you blush pretty too, it’s like god took every one of my dirty fantasies -” Wade’s rant was cut off as Peter placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes widening at the soft touch, “Webs -?”

“Peter,” he smiled, moving his free hand to slowly start removing his mask, “My name’s Peter.”

Wade repeated it like a prayer, so distracted by the feel of the letters on his lips that he didn’t even move to stop the action. Peter let his finger brush against the textured skin of his cheek, Wade going completely still at the contact.

“Pete... what are you doing?”

He just smiled, moving his other hand to cup the other side of his cheek as he lifted the mask all of the way off. “Beautiful.” The one word seemed to strike Wade at his core, the man melting in to his hand before coming to his senses and pulling back slightly.

“You are,” he insisted, “fuck anyone who says anything else.”

“Oooh, little spidey used the f-word.”

Peter shot him an unimpressed look, “Wade.”

The mercenary just huffed, seemingly losing the internal battle against himself and the boxes as he let himself relax in to Peter’s hands once more. The younger man just watched as Wade’s body seemed to completely loosen, as if he was crumbling right before his eyes.

As if on delayed time, Wade’s eyes began to water, “I - I don’t know why-”

“It’s ok, Wade,” Peter said, instantly moving closer and enveloping him in a hug, taking the full weight as he relaxed completely into the hold, “It’s ok.”

Peter just held him as he felt the merc’s tears wetting the front of his suit, slowly moving his hand up and down Wade’s back. The rhythmic motion seemed to lull both of them into a comfortable silence, one which was only broken by the sharp sudden breaths of the man in his arms.

Wade had been quiet for too long, eventually pulling slightly back from the hug but taking great care to keep contact, “If you can make me this weak with a hug, I cant wait for when you finally take me home and bang me into next year.”

“Wade!”

Sniggering, Wade leaned back into the hold, burying his face in Peter’s neck, “Well if you’re offering, I’m sure gonna make the most of it, Webs.”

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #touch starved #marvel #spideypool #deadpool #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x deadpool #whump #fluff #peter parker x deadpool #fanfiction #marvel fic #spideypool whump #wade wilson

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter One

Finally! I’m sorry this took so long, I’m a nervous wreck.

Notes: this was originally a warmup for character interactions/setting. It is very dialogue heavy.

\\ Warnings: alcohol //

A single tumbleweed was all that crossed Scott’s path when he arrived in the Red Desert. It was rather comical, he stood and watched it roll away until he couldn’t see it through the sheets of sand blowing over the ground.

In the distance, the only mountain located in the desert biome loomed over the horizon. Imposingly backlit by the red, swirling, tendrils of the world border. Most residents kept away from the thing, as it was meant to give off an unsettling aura. Although Scott never minded it. The wall of his room was almost right up against it after all.

On top of the mountain was a barely visible “castle”, which looked as if it was built by someone wearing a blindfold. The inhabitants of the castle, and the aptly named “Monopoly Mountain” could be accurately described as menaces.

Clumsy when it came to forward thinking, and leaving hidden traps around so frequently that traveling through any wooded area required either a very long stick, or someone willing to take the business end of a TNT trap for the team.

They also happened to be Scott’s nearest allies. It hadn’t always been pleasant between them, but circumstance led to circumstance, and now Scott was making his semi-weekly visit to Monopoly Mountain to shoot the breeze.

Typically the only person at the base would be Grian. Scar liked to make himself elusive by causing problems elsewhere and returning late into the evening with a story to tell over dinner.

The base of the mountain was void of a bubble-elevator. To reach the top one must climb an absurd amount of stairs. Scott huffed and resigned himself to the task in front of him.

As his perspective grew higher and higher the rest of the map revealed itself. The roof of Joel’s house peeked over a swathe of trees, and the tall barricades of Dogwarts stood out as a stark silhouette against the sky. Scott took a few minutes to regain his purchase, shielding his eyes from the whipping wind.

The season was gradually descending into winter. Made obvious by the deciduous trees’ leaves choking out the last of their green pigment for fiery shades of red and orange. The weather was far less pleasant to endure. Everywhere outside of the Red Desert had to deal with bitterly cold conditions, although there hadn’t been snow yet, the sky churned with a constant overcast. Threatening to storm at the drop of a coin.

Scott rubbed his arms to fight off the oncoming chill and continued his ascent, hoping someone had installed a fireplace since the last time he visited.

Finally he rounded the last of the stairs and gazed up at the tall, thin roof of the Sand Castle. The Red Desert flag strung on the tallest rooftop flapped around in the wind. Pizza, the pet lama, grunted in Scott’s direction when he approached the front door. He hesitantly reached out to pet her (she bit him once and he’d never fully gotten over it) from over the fence of her pen, and she let him rub her fluffy bangs.

Scott knocked on the door three times and gave Pizza one last pat, anticipating someone to open the door. It would be a shame if he’d hiked all the way out only for nobody to be home.

Thankfully, the door swung open with a welcoming screech of it’s hinges.

“Hey dude,” Grian welcomed him from the front steps.

“Hey,” Scott greeted in return, “may I come in?” he asked.

“Of course! It’s freezing out here,” Grian replied and stepped away from the door, which slammed with a squeak behind the two of them.

Scott closed his eyes and waved to the resident enderman, who greeted him with a friendly, distorted “hello”. A furnace was running to warm the living room.

Scott took his coat and hat off. He draped them over the arm of the couch before swatting a layer of sand from the cushion and sitting down, observing the scene in front of him. There was always something going on in there.

This time, a myriad of blueprints were strewn across the floor. Each of them depicting heavily annotated structures and what looked like plans for redstone. Grian had planted himself on the floor with a pencil, and was furiously erasing a line of text.

“What’s that?” Scott pointed over his shoulder.

“These,” Grian held one of the outlines up to the other’s face, “are the blueprints for our secret bunker,” he explained.

“You hear that? Secret Bunker, so don’t go telling anyone about it m’kay?” He tapped the paper with the end of his pencil.

“Okay, fair enough. Is that redstone?” Scott slid another sheet of paper towards them with his shoe.

“Yup. I’m gonna equip it with a lava trap,” Grian said proudly.

“And this one will work?” Scott teased.

“Hilarious,” Grian pushed the other’s shoulder, “yes it will work, it’s going to be my best yet,” he assured.

“Oh good! That’s not a very high standard to meet then,” Scott congratulated.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Grian mocked back, “you better be careful what you say with twenty five reputation points,” he said.

Scott threw his hands up in surrender, still laughing at how the other man’s ears turned red.

The house fell into a comfortable silence after that. The sound of scribbling and wind served as a calming ambience. Scott intermittently shared a few words with the enderman, who seemed to understand more of what Scott said to him than the other way around.

“Hey, Grian?” Scott turned over on the couch to face his friend.

“Yeah?” The other said without looking away from his work.

“Do you think you would have still been friends with Scar if he hadn’t died from that creeper?” Scott asked.

There was a pregnant pause, then Grian said, “I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he doodled absently on the margin of his paper.

“Hm,” Scott replied halfheartedly. He mainly asked because whenever he visited Grian was alone. If they were even home at all. Other than that him and Scar were always attached at the hip.

“Why?” Grian asked in return.

“I don’t know, forget it,” Scott waved him off. Not wanting to get into it.

“When’s he gonna be back?” he asked instead.

Grian sat up and stretched his back, “uh, I don’t know actually. He said he went to gather resources but you can never really count on him doing what he says he will,” he explained.

“You didn’t go with him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t want to babysit him anymore. If he gets in trouble that’s not my problem,” Grian said. He stood up and wandered over the the kitchen, carefully avoiding the blueprints on the floor.

“Ha! I would drink to that one, Jimmy is the same way sometimes,” Scott replied and watched as Grian contemplated the contents of their cooler, reaching in and pulling out a bottle of red wine.

“Well then, let’s drink to it,” he held the bottle up with a grin.

“Where did you get that?” Scott vacated the couch and made his way over to his friend, taking the bottle and studying it, “I haven’t seen the fruit of the vine in years!” he recalled.

The bottle had clearly been tapped into before, although not much was absent from its contents.

“I have my ways,” Grian rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled out two glasses.

“I would say it’s too early for this, but for once, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Scott uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each glass a third of the way.

Grian cleared his throat, “To the safety of our stupid partners,” he raised his glass.

Scott nodded in return and connected their drinks with a polite clink, then they drank to the sentiment.

The conversation traveled to the dining table, which was more of a booth. Talking points ranged from preparing for winter to future plans to expand their bases.

“I’m not going to get anything done with the weather coming on,” Scott complained over his drink, “I don’t handle the cold very well,” he downed the last of it.

“Well you can always move in with us for the season, the attic is vacant,” Grian offered.

“Never in a million years. I’d rather be sick at home than spend a week living with barbarians,” Scott refused the offer.

Grian rolled his eyes, “it is not that bad,” he defended himself.

Scott raised an eyebrow and shoved his hand in between the cushions of the booth. Pulling up a handful of sand, which he deposited on the table.

“We live in a desert! What do you want us to do about it, of course there’s some sand in here,” Grian threw his hands up.

“Some?” Scott repeated.

“Okay,” Grian glanced under the table and shuffled his foot around, which scraped across a layer of sand, “a lot of sand,” he corrected himself.

“Get a vacuum. For the hundredth time, get a vacuum,” Scott demanded.

“We have a broom that works perfectly fine,” Grian stood up and opened a linen closet to reveal a single broom leaned up against the wall.

Scott didn’t comment on it, but he had a feeling that broom never left the closet.

The conversation was effectively halted when the front door screeched open, letting in a gust of wind and sand. It blew a few papers off the floor and scattered them around the living area.

“Hey,” Grian called out, “Scar? You back?” he asked.

“Yeah,” came from the front of the Sand Castle.

“Okay! We have company by the way,” Grian prefaced.

Scar’s head poked around the doorframe, he waved at Scott who returned the gesture.

“What have you guys been up to?” He inquired at the sight of the wine on the counter.

“Just hanging out. It gets a bit lonely up here you know,” Grian closed the linen closet and took Scar’s backpack from him. He opened it and looked at the contents.

“Oh, you actually did what you went out to do,” Grian revealed a bundle of wood from the bag.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scar crossed his arms.

“Never mind, go wash up. I assume you’re hungry,” Grian opened a pantry and took some spices out, “are you staying for dinner Scott?” he asked.

Scott leaned out of the booth to check the time on the clock above the door, “mmm, yeah why not. I’m already here,” he decided.

“Let me just page Jimmy and tell him I’m gonna be home late,” Scott patted all his pockets but found no sign of his communication device.

“Hey Grian? Can I use your pager?” he requested.

Grian fished around in his back pockets and pulled out his pager, tossing it towards the other who caught it with both hands. Scott thanked him and flipped the screen up, selected the address he needed to contact, and typed out a short message. Making sure to say it was from him and not Grian before sending it to Jimmy.

“What’re we making?” Scott asked once he finished, intent on trying to help in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s Spaghetti Friday,” Grian declared and revealed a bag of Rigatoni pasta.

“That’s a thing?” Scott inquired, taking the bag and examining the packaging. It was pretty simple, mostly cardboard with a plastic window. Presumably from the village on the other side of the map.

“We’ve gotta have some fun around here, come on now Scott,” Grian said.

“You’re right, how can I help?” Scott said. Grian side eyed him.

“You can add the salt when I say you can add the salt,” he offered. Scott crossed his arms.

He wasn’t that bad at cooking. He’d only burned a few things, smoked the house out for three days once, and set scrambled eggs on fire.

“That one time was just a rookie mistake,” Scott retorted. It’s not like he did it on purpose.

“A rookie mistake that almost burned your flower forest down. I wouldn’t let you near the kitchen if I was Jimmy either,” Grian set a pot down on the stove.

Scar came back in the kitchen then, and was pulled into it almost immediately.

“A man can’t even sit down in his own house without his culinary skills being put up for debate?”

Grian laughed at him, sliding the pot under the water pump.

“That’s not an answer at all! Can you or can’t you?” Scott demanded to know, holding a salt shaker.

“I can cook,” Scar’s gaze wandered into thought, he started counting on his fingers, “pasta, assorted vegetables, mac and cheese, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and I can bake a half decent carrot cake,” he recited.

“I worked in a supermarket before the borders. We made some of our own stuff for the bakery and the buffet,” Scar said. It was the first mention he made of what he did back when things were normal. At least to Scott.

Scott was pleasantly surprised. He nodded, seeing as he’d been given a satisfying answer.

The spaghetti went off without a hitch, Grian was surprisingly good at making it. Scott had the sense that he’d done it many times before.

“Remember, you can put the salt in but you can’t take it out. Here taste the sauce and tell me if it’s alright,” Grian fished a spoon from a drawer and handed it to Scott.

“Hmm,” the other pondered after trying a spoonful, “maybe a bit more salt?” he suggested.

A window was propped open to let the steam and heat out. It was getting dark now, and the world border stood out against the purple hues of night falling over the server. The brightest stars made themselves known to the east as the sun set to the west. It was peaceful, the wind had died down. Scott wondered if anyone else was watching.

Personally, he enjoyed stargazing a lot more. His servermates knew next to nothing about the cosmos, which made him wonder who was teaching them about the greater universe. Clearly they’d never been out there.

“Yo,” Scar called him out of his trance. He handed the other a ceramic bowl.

“Thank you,” Scott said and waited to serve himself.

The spaghetti was pretty good. Decent meals were hard to come by, especially with the limited resources outside of villages.

Over the course of dinner, Scar explained his excursion of the day. He had been gathering wood to stockpile for the winter months (no wood in the desert, better to have a source available and not have to hike out and get more constantly) when he came upon Etho’s base.

“It’s entirely made of wool,” he recounted.

Grian raised an eyebrow in confusion, “All of it? Why?” he mused.

“Dunno. There was nobody around,” Scar replied.

“You didn’t steal from them did you?” Scott interjected.

“Not this time,” he said, which earned him a jab in the ribs from Grian.

The three laughed it off and switched the subject to current server affairs. Who had the best gear, everyone’s respective allies, the phantom problem, and the pros and cons of a vacuum.

“Well, I would say this is a fine work of spaghetti,” Scar complimented when he was finished.

“Indeed, couldn’t have done it without Scott. The best salt dispenser among us,” Grian agreed.

Scott tried to look offended but couldn’t repress a smile. He stood up, about to take his bowl to the sink; but Scar insisted that he was the guest, so he handed over his dish and sat back down. Preparing his “i’m out of here” pleasantries.

He settled on, “Well, I’m out of here,” after a few more minutes of banter.

“Okay! Thanks for keeping me company dude,” Grian gave Scott a hug as thanks.

“My pleasure,” Scott replied.

Scar offered to accompany Scott back to the Hobbit territory, but he refused.

“No need Scar, you’ve been out all day. I’ll be fine,” he assured as he adjusted his hat and jacket for the chilly walk home.

“Alright then, let me walk you out,” Scar proposed instead.

Final waves and good wishes were exchanged and Scott started back down all those stairs. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the world border which sat right against the Red Desert.

Lost in thought for most of the journey, Scott traveled into the dark canopy of leaves. There weren’t many mobs out due to the moon being in its Waning Crescent phase. Scott rubbed his hands together and shoved them in his pockets, wishing he’d brought his mittens.

As he crossed over a clearing, an arrow whizzed over his shoulder. Scott ducked down in surprise, turning around and expecting to see a skeleton, but there was nothing there except a dreadfully dark bank of trees and a vacant plot of land.

Scott squinted into the darkness.

Then the handle of a weapon was brought down on the side of his face, and all the lights went out.

#THAR SHE BLOWS.#Time to get this monster out of my system! This au gave me brainrot.#hahaha! it only gets worse from here #kingslayer au #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #mcyt #cas types

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blissfulparker · 3 years

Text

Sugar and spice pt.2→Mob!Dad!Tom

Parings: mob!dad!tom x Baker!reader

Warnings: fluff again

Summary: Tom is one of the youngest Mobsters known to London, youngest and most successful he seems perfect to people, feared by people. But his deepest secret is that he’s been raising a son all by himself. No one to be with since the birth of his son until he walks into the small bakery last minute for his sons birthday and meets you.

A/n: this is a bit later than I expected but here it is! I hope you all enjoy and please let me know your thoughts and what you would like to see from the future 💗💗

There had always been a rush in London. The city constantly running around and resorting to partying at night.

Tom felt that rush, he felt the rush of the people, the adrenaline running through his veins each day. Every day he had a new task, a new person and new blood. His days restless, he’s never truly seen a day off as his son and work kept him on his feet.

“Daddy!” It was almost like a dream, he was still dreaming as dreams became rare. “Daddy!” He heard the soft voice again, shaking him from his sleep he jolted up.

“Huh!” The little boys stands at the side of his bed before crawling in. His hair is messy like his fathers and he sits down next to him excited.

“It’s picnic day!” The boy had a lot of different ‘days’ at school. Once a month was picnic day where each kid brought some sort of treat for the class to enjoy. Picnic day was talked about last week over dinner but it completely left Toms brain as one of his men dead was slightly more important than cookies in a park filled with children.

“Picnic day?” He tries not to sound panicked as he doesn’t want to hurt his little boy. Yes he’s forgotten days in the past, he forgot movie day, pajama day, water day-that was heartbreaking-sometimes he even forgot to pick him up which made him hate himself and Harrison’s words become true all over again. He needs a mother.

“Ella is bringing fruit, jasper is bringing chips…” he starts to trail off and Tom tries to think of anything at the last minute. All he needs to do is give has a quick call to Harrison and have him head to the store. “And I’m bringing cookies!” The little boy says with excitement but his face starts to fall as he sees his dad focused on something else. “Remember?” His little voice broke him and he held his small shoulders.

“Yes!” Tom says with excitement. “Yes! Yes! I remember, I do! Why don’t you go get ready for school and give daddy a minute.” He kisses the boys cheek before he runs off. Running his hand through his hair he is quick to grab the phone.

“Harrison!” Tom nearly panicked into the phone.

“What is it?” He hears the faint sound of a girl in the background which makes him roll his eyes.

“I need you to go to the store and pick up cookies for Riley’s school thing.” Tom said quickly as he threw on proper clothes. He could hear the sigh on the other line. “You’re my assistant, remember? This is what you do.”

“No. My job is to—stop Angel—it’s to make sure you don’t kill yourself and make sure everything is in check. I’m your assistant and I am Riley’s uncle. Those are two different things.” Harrison sounded exhausted and annoyed. Tom could hear the sound of whatever girl he had brought home from wherever he went last night.

Tom didn’t exactly have those days, when he was younger there were highschool parties and akward hookups but he was a teenager. It was diffrent. But when his son came there was no bars, clubs, night out, nothing. Just him and his boy alone.

“Damnit Harrison, please. I just need this one favor.” He splashed his face with water as he tried his hardest to get ready in three seconds. He could hear the little boy already getting his bag and going downstairs. “Shit.” He whispered to himself.

“Go to that bakery with the cute girl! Get cookies from there! Hope Riley has a good day, tell him I love him! I’ve gotta go, I'm busy.” And before tom could protest, he hung up. Looking at his watch and then himself in the mirror. He would find himself back at you.

You who seemed to be fixing his problems.

Mornings were quiet. There was always a soft breeze—you’ve learnt from living in London for so long—but you loved it more than anything.

People were carefree in the mornings, the only rush coming from people who want to make it a rush but the others taking their time to stop and smell the roses.

The only rush coming from you was seeing how quick you can make coffee for yourself before your first costumer. Taking the first sip and suddenly that cool breeze that kisses your cheek is replaced with the warmth of the drink.

It’s far too early to hear the sound of the bells signifying that someone has walked in. You sigh slightly as you just wished you had a few more moments to yourself before you greeted people with a smile that sometimes was too sweet.

“Can you get that (y/n)?” Your coworker is already calling to you as she pulled the first batch of muffins out of the oven.

You tie the back of the apron as you walk out, not looking at the person coming in this early. You only see two pairs of feet, one of them being tiny.

“Give me one second if you—“ you turn to see the man from last week. The thought of him being back for you pushed away in your mind. You see the little boy he holds hands with, his son. You only assume by the same strong cheekbones and the chocolate colored eyes. Same small freckles as well.

“Oh hello again.” You smiled and tom walked up.

“Hi, I hate being so last minute but I need 24 cookies.” He asks and the little boy looks at you in awe, as if you were some sort of Angel to him.

You giggle a little, looking at the boy who’s birthday cake you made last week.

“Rather too early than too last minute. We haven’t started on any afternoon pastries unless ordered. We only have our morning pastries prepared.” You tell him and you see the panic on his face. He looks down at the little boy and before he could say anything you lean on the counter and speak to the boy.

“You must be the little boy who’s birthday it was last week.” You say with a soft smile.

“Yeah.” He says shyly. “Today is picnic day, I promised I’d bring cookies.”

“Well,” you rested your chin on the palm of your hand and tom watched.

He didn’t know what was more mesmerizing, the way you interacted with his son and managed to bring out the shyness that held him back. Or the dark lashes that blinked every few moments or the soft lip gloss that was freshly applied. Either way, he would hurt your feelings.

“Can we get muffins daddy?” He missed the whole conversation as he seemed to be in whatever trance you put him in.

Tom feels himself grow hot as he completely zoned out while staring at you. Your hand was now back on the counter and you looked at tom. He looked at you nervous as if you knew he wasn’t actually listening.

“Chocolate chip, blueberry or strawberry. Banana isn’t done yet and I’m not quite sure how he would like that…” you laugh softly and tom swallows hard.

“Chocolate.” The little boy says and Tom nods.

“Why don’t you go take a seat over there bubs.” Tom clears his throat. The little boy nods and walks away leaving him alone with you at the counter.

“I’m sorry I—“ he starts to apologize for his staring but you press your lips together to hide the feeling of heat coming to your face.

“Don’t be.” You flashed the white smile. “It’s early.” Was all you called as you walked back to the kitchen leaving tom alone in front of the counter.

“She’s pretty.” Riley said to Tom as he swung his feet at the chair. Tom felt himself blush as you could’ve easily heard.

He wasn’t wrong, you were gorgeous, but Tom didn’t need another girl breaking his heart. As the girl he fell in love with six years ago left him after the birth of their son, not even wanting to look at him while tom had tears in his eyes and even being so young and new to the world, Tom wanted to do anything for him.

But she broke his heart, he hadn’t seen anything of her since about three months of Riley’s birth and at first he tore the world apart to find her, make her pay, but she hid herself. She hid herself from what she called the monster that was Tom.

“She is.” Was all Tom swallowed back.

“Those need a five minute cooling, do you need any coffee?” You offered and he shook his head.

“Oh no I’m fine—“ he starts and you’re already over at the machine.

“You don’t have to say no because it’s polite, how do you take it?” You asked and he felt himself smirk and the little boy looked between his dad and the pretty girl giving them muffins.

“Cream, darling.” darling, such a pretty word he hasn’t used in years. A pretty word that he thinks sounds perfect said against someone's lips, a pretty name that fits you.

Your fingers gently touch his as you pass him the cup. Your fingers cold, soft at the tips but nails slightly scratch him. He wishes you held them there for a little bit longer.

Before he could say thank you, you disappeared to the back again. He could already hear Harrison laughing at him for letting a girl get him so weak. Not letting him have last words, not letting him be stubborn. A girl who has probably never even held a gun in her life having so much power.

“Here we are.” You set the beautiful box of well done chocolate chip muffins in front of the boy and watch his eyes go wide. You smile seeing his reaction before turning back to tom.

“H-How much?” Now he was stuttering, if anyone at all saw him the way he was acting he would probably be dead.

“Oh you’re fine.” You shouldn’t do this, but this was your only chance.

Living in London for years and the last boyfriend you had breaking your heart and almost never letting it heal. He was the first person in years you had felt something when he walked in. You never got flustered at work, never buy a man with a kid at least but when he came in the first time you didn’t even know if you could properly speak to him.

“No, No, No,” he shook his head and pulled out his card trying to hand it to you. “You’ve dealt with my shit twice—“

“Don’t say that—“ Riley starts.

Before tom could finish your grabbed his knuckles and shook your head. His eyes go down to your hand and he swallows hard and you don’t even realize you did that until then. Taking your hand back immediately and regaining your composure so you don’t embarrass yourself more.

“It’s fine, truly, business gets slow over here Anyways so they were saved from the trash.” You clear your throat. “And I think little man has an important picnic date.” The boy already half way across the lobby and Tom huffs before pulling out his wallet.

He doesn’t say anything except pull out a pen and a 50 dollar bill. You can’t see what has or even is writing but you see that he is being sneaky and the boy is just trying to get out of the bakery and go to school.

He sees the empty tip jar to the start of the day and slips the money in there before walking over to the boy.

You are quick to pull out the 50 dollar bill and call him out but he has a smirk and is already guiding the little boy out of the door.

“Have a nice day! Thank you!” He calls out and you huff staring down at the money.

A number written on the top and next to it written, “hopefully I can make it up to you with coffee, you just saved me twice! I guess we never introduced ourselves, I’m tom’

The words make you laugh and shove the money into your back pocket.

“Who was that?” Your boss comes out, the older woman who was the one who accepted Tom's order in the first place, you should be thanking her.

“He-he just came in for muffins.” You cleared your throat and hid the money in your apron feeling awful for even having it.

Soon you would be made up with hopefully coffee and from the cute boy who rushes in.

“She was pretty.” Riley says again in the car as he clutches onto the muffins as they drive.

“Yeah, she was.” He shouldn't have taken such a nice car, he didn’t exactly like when people stared or asked him what he did. It also was easier to track him in a car that cost as much as a house.

“She was nice.” He says too, almost like he’s trying to set his own dad up.

“She was.” Was all Tom said back but that doesn’t stop the boy.

“When can we go back?” He asks and tom reaches back and tickles the boys knee.

“What are trying to do Mister?” He teases and the boy laughs. They stop at the school where all the kids are getting out of their cars with their mom and dad and walking up to the front.

“Give me kisses.” He turns back to his son who gives him a kiss on the cheek and tom plants one on his forehead.

“Love you!” The little boy shouts before walking up the stairs to the school. Tom watches him walk away thinking about how he too liked her and hopefully his move wasn’t too bold and he can still have a chance.

Hopefully this time his heart wouldn’t be broken but with his secrets he might just break his own.

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slasherhaven · 4 years

Note

Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you, but could you write for Vincent with a pregnant reader who ran away from her abusive boyfriend and found herself in Ambrose when her car broke down, and Vincent felt protective of her and didn't let Bo hurt her? Maybe after the child is born, she encourages them to call Vincent "daddy"?

Vincent Sinclair with a pregnant future S/O who is escaping from an abusive relationship:

You were heading into the unmapped town for some gas but of course nothing could be so easy for you, since your car broke down just outside of “Ambrose”.

A man had come by in a truck, he was dirty and a little strange but seemed nice in his own way. He had offered to take you into town, said that the man who owned the garage would get your car, fix it up, and set you on your way.

You were cautious but didn’t have much choice, so you let the man drive you into town.

He couldn’t help but glance at your round stomach, his own twisting uncomfortably, knowing you were pregnant. He also couldn’t help but glance up at the bruise under your eye.

“...when are you due?” the man, Lester, asked. There was something strange in his voice, sympathy...guilt?

“...about a month” you answered and the rest of the drive was silent.

You got into town, dropped off at the garage. But instead of leaving town again, you saw Lester’s truck driving up to a house. Obviously, you didn’t think anything of it at the time.

You talked to the man who owned the garage, Bo. He seemed nice, happy to help, even charming. He asked what you were doing in town, squinting suspiciously when you shrugged, avoiding the question.

He told you that he had to get something from the house, so the two of you headed up there. Lester’s truck was there but no sign of the man.

As soon as you stepped into the house with Bo, Vincent was watching. Bo left you in the living room when he went to get whatever it was that he said you needed.

That’s when you caught a glimpse of yourself in a small mirror on the mantle piece. You gently touched the bruise under your eye, tears forming. You sighed, collecting yourself, holding your stomach protectively as you paced the living room.

Bo wasn’t stupid. Your car only had two bags in it. One carrying your things, your essentials, packed in a rush, carrying light. The other filled with baby products. You were bruised, quiet, avoiding small talk type questions. You were running from something.

And Vincent didn’t need to see your bags to know that. He could see what his twin saw. You were running and all three brothers had a feeling they knew what from.

And so an argument ensued.

Lester stayed out of it, hanging his head and just waiting. Normally Vincent would be quick to give in to Bo, but not this time.

Vincent couldn’t let Bo hurt you. You had been hurt too much already, and you were pregnant. They just couldn’t do this, not this time.

Even Bo was struggling with the morality of killing a pregnant woman.

“She’s due in a month...” Lester spoke up, giving Bo a pleading look, please just let her go...

“And what do you want me to do about that?” Bo asked, uninterested with the information.

“Let her go” Lester sighed.

“...fine” Bo nodded, he could do that, just this once.

Bo began to leave the room but Vincent grabbed his arm, turning him back to him. Bo only had to look at his town to know what he was thinking.

“No” Bo stated firmly. That was not happening.

“Maybe Vinny has a point...” Lester looked between the twins, also knowing what Vincent was thinking and agreeing with him.

You need somewhere to stay. A town that wasn’t even on maps was a perfect place to hide from whoever you were running from.

“We can’t. She’ll find out about the town, then we can never let her go” Bo reminded them but Vincent tugged on his arm again, harder this time. “...how long do you think we’re going to let her stay here?” he asked sarcastically.

“...” Vincent just gave him a look. Even with the mask, Bo knew what he was thinking. For the foreseeable future, for good if that’s what it took.

“No” Bo said even firmer this time. “...you’re both ridiculous, but fine. But since this was your idea, she and the baby are you’re responsibility, I’m not dealing with that shit. Got it?” he asked, staring his twin down. Vincent nodded.

Bo cursed to himself before leaving the room, going to find you.

It was a long, tense conversation. Bo practically interrogating you about where you came from, where you’re going, and why.

Eventually you broke down and told him. That you’re running from an abusive partner, don’t really know where you’re going. Just trying to get away.

“My brother...suggested you stay here, if you have nowhere to go” Bo told you.

“Brother?...Lester, right?” you questioned, assuming that’s why the man from the truck came up to the house.

“My other brother, Vincent. You haven’t met him yet but he knows what I know, says you should stay here. Lester said you’re a month away from popping, you can’t be on the road alone when that happens” he explained.

“No...I mean, thank you but it’s too kind. I couldn’t intrude” you shook your head, eyes wide at the offer.

“Whoever you’re running from won’t find you here. Look, I’ll let you leave now. It’s my brothers that are worried about you, especially Vincent” he shrugged. “Look, I’ll introduce you. But...he ain’t much of a talker” he offered.

Next thing you knew, you were speaking with the three brothers. Bo didn’t seem to care what you chose to do. Lester was eager for you to stay, claiming that Vincent was too. But when you looked at the masked man, he just nodded. Bo was right, he wasn’t much of a talker but that was okay by you.

And, eventually, they talked you into staying.

Bo kept his distance but wasn’t mean to you, that was fine by you.

Lester ended up going home, apparently he lived just outside of town.

Vincent was the one who kept you company, even if he was quiet.

He was always fretting over you, nervous about the pregnancy. He barely knew you but already cared so much. It was a...nice change.

He was quiet and you didn’t understand the mask, but it wasn’t your business. But he kind and gentle. Never touched you unless you told him it was okay, didn’t even stand too close.

But he was always worried about you and you knew that.

The two of you became close quickly.

Something about him just told you that you could trust him. Everything about him was a refreshing change. You liked him a lot, even after only a couple of weeks.

You opened up to Vincent. Telling him everything about your abusive ex and how you finally decided that you had to leave them to protect your child.

A month passed. All your bruises had faded like they were never there, Vincent was always by your side, and your baby was due any day, it was starting to feel like you were getting to start fresh, even after such a short amount of time.

And finally the baby came, sending the four of you into a panic.

This wasn’t exactly how you had expected to give birth to your first child.

Bo drove you to the hospital and Vincent went with you both. You and Vincent sitting in the back seat, him trying to calm you down while trying to not freak out himself.

Bo couldn’t have complained more when he had to be the one to take you inside while Vincent waited in the car.

After, what felt like, an eternity, you got to leave the hospital and take the baby to their new home in Ambrose.

As soon as you returned to the house, Vincent was by your side, worrying about you.

Bo went to grab a beer and Vincent sat you down, you needed rest.

Vincent couldn’t help but stare in awe as you cradled your new born baby to your chest. Over the last month, he had fallen hard for you.

“Do you want to hold them?” your voice broke him out of his trance. His eye widened as he looked at you, hold them? You would let him do that?

He paused before nodding.

He sat down beside you and you carefully passed the baby to him. He held them like they were the most precious thing in existence.

“Their father...he’s a terrible man and I’m glad I had the courage to leave before he had the chance to hurt them. I’m glad I came here, found this place and you. I’m glad they would have had a chance to meet you, Vincent” you told him, making him look at you. In awe again.

He wanted to tell you that he was glad too, that he would never ever hurt you or your child, that he would be here for you for as long as you allowed him to be.

Thankfully, you already knew that. Because you reached out and took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently.

Vincent completely melted when your baby cooed up at him.

“Hey, they like you” you smiled softly.

Vincent looked back down at your child and just fell in love with them, just like he had with you.

“Look at you, Vincent. You’re a natural” Bo teased as he stepped into the room.

But you just smiled, he was right. Vincent also smiled under the mask, he was okay with being a natural at this...

Time continued to pass, Vincent right by your side.

He as wonderful, more so than he needed to be.

He cared for you and your child more than anything.

If the baby cried, he’d offer to check on them. Even if the baby didn’t cry, they were just sleeping, Vincent would check on them.

So much time passed that you had practically become family. The brothers loved having you and your child around, even Bo did though he wouldn’t admit it.

Eventually you found out the truth of the town and you were rightly horrified.

Vincent was horrified as well, terrified that you would leave now. Or worse, Bo would have to do something to stop you from telling anyone on the outside.

You needed some time but this had become your home and it was Vincent...you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you. Until now you didn’t think he would hurt anyone.

No matter what he did, you saw the fear in his eye, he was scared to lose you and your child. He wasn’t angry...he was scared and sad. He was still your Vincent.

So...you stayed.

And you didn’t regret it.

Eventually your child began attempting to talk. At the moment, all they could say was “mama”.

But then something incredible happened.

You were playing with your child and Vincent walked into the room.

Your child’s face lit up as they exclaimed “daddy!”

You both froze.

Vincent didn’t know what to do. He could cry from he overwhelming emotion he felt but he was also worried about what you felt. Where you mad about it?

He looked to you for how to respond.

But you relaxed, smiling slightly as you gestured for him to join you. And he did, sitting down beside you.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll try to get them to stop...but I don’t mind, if you don’t mind” you told him.

Vincent had to do something, this was a moment, even he knew that. It was important.

So, he gently took your hand, squeezing it and nodding. You smiled before leaning into him, pressing a gentle kiss to his masked cheek before leaning against his arm, the two of you playing with his child.

Having your car break down just outside of Ambrose and meeting Vincent was the best thing that ever happened to you, you truly believed that.

Vincent hated that you had to go through so much pain to end up here but he was glad that you found them, that he could help, that he could have even met you and your child.

Now, the two of you were his world. He would do anything to protect you both. He loved you both.

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Rafael 🥺🥺🥺

CW: Pet whump, referenced implied noncon/dubcon, captivity, isolation, intimate whumper, creepy whumper

Follows this piece where Chris overcomes his freeze response to try and help someone

It’s 2:30 in the morning. The house is cool and silent and still around him as he stands in the master’s library, where the only phone he’s ever seen that wasn’t the small, slim things his master and mistress keep in their pockets or purses or always on themselves.

He’s not allowed in here, books make his head hurt and we wouldn’t want to give you wrinkles in that pretty face from all that squinting, Raf. But he’s here, anyway.

They’re asleep, down the hall, in their room. The both of them, the mistress breathing low and deep, the master softly snoring. He can hear them from here, and it’s a soothing comfort to be able to track their sleep even now.

His heart pounds while he stares at the phone, dressed only in the loose, slightly sheer black pants he’s allowed to wear to sleep, when they have done with him for the night, when he is no longer between them, taken and taking, eyes closed and body repeating patterns while his mind goes somewhere else.

Red bruises darken around his neck and shoulders, the lipstick at least washed away and leaving only blood vessels burst under his pale skin to color it. She loves to leave the lipstick there, and they love to see who can mark him more, counting up the new places, telling who did what by the smear of Rouge, or Addict, or whatever other name she gave to the slim little tubes that littered her vanity.

He lays back for their inspection, smiles up at the mirror they’ve had fixed to the underside of the canopy over their bed, and drifts away while they laugh over and around him. The loser makes the drinks, after, and he gets one, too.

Whiskey and honey-syrup with rosemary, washed down, but the taste never leaves, not all the way. He tastes them when he falls asleep.

If he falls asleep.

Now, he’s clean except for the way he always feels a slight, nearly invisible layer of grime on his skin, and his skin is unmarked except for the bruises they will carefully cover with the turtlenecks he wears in the morning.

He’s clean... except that he is never, ever clean.

His name is Rafael.

Something else was his name, once upon a time. Some other blend of letters, some other murmured syllables spoken on someone else’s tongue. He knows that much - they tell him far more than he has ever asked to know.

They found him, Master and Ma’am, hungry and dirty and cold. You were so desperate for a hot meal, someplace to sleep, you told us you’d do anything. They offered him safety, and someone to care for him, and he got into their car. It’s what he wanted. You wanted to leave it all behind, you know. We gave you the chance.

We offered you a choice, and it wasn’t like anyone else was going to help you, Raf. You didn’t have a soul in the world who even gave a damn if you were alive.

He signed up for this.

Didn’t he?

The voice of the man in the museum comes back to him with his scarred face and soft green eyes. Somebody loved you. They lie to us. Pushing the plastic feather into his hand, whispering numbers to him. Rafael’s neck aches under his collar, throbs with the blood pooling from their teeth tearing at him and telling him he likes it, and he’s never thought to argue before.

But he doesn’t.

On his own, he dreams about softness, he closes his eyes and runs fingertips along his own palm and imagines it’s someone who simply wants to hold his hand. Alone, Rafael thinks about a dim sweet warmth, even as they tell him he wants their too-bright light baring him to hands and teeth like fang and claws, to desire that digs deep and draws blood.

Somebody loved you.

It seems impossible.

They lie to us all.

In the dark of night, with the barest hint of moonlight coming through the great windows along the wall, the saturated purple of the feather is a cool, faded lavender. Rafael rubs his thumb along it, following an instinctive movement. He can see, he thinks, the faintest hint of indents in it, like the man he saw at the museum had been chewing on it. Marks like teeth, like the marks on his side, the way they laugh on either side of him, his mistress murmuring, they could identify us with dental records by that one if we dumped him, darling, and his master kissing her, then him, then laughing too loud, laughing harder when Rafael flinches from the sound and the fear of being abandoned.

They’d found him abandoned and taken him in. They gave him a home and he traded away whatever life he’d had to get it, willingly, happily, wanting to be loved and kept and held.

But... what if that wasn’t what happened, just because they said it was?

Somebody loved you.

He moves closer to the phone, letting his fingers trail over the cool dark plastic, smooth and shining in the dark. His eyes close, and he breathes, in and out. The room smells like old books, and the leather of the chairs in here. Like a candle his mistress insists on lighting once a week in the room.

When they have him in here, he’s blindfolded to keep him from seeing the books.

The man in the museum had been one, he knew it instantly. No collar, though, and not with an owner, but he still... Raf had known. He always knew, and when he’d seen the scar, he’d known that the man wasn’t one, not any longer.

Whispering to him that there is another way to live.

Rafael takes a deep breath, picks up the phone, and swallows back the burst of fear. It’s just a few numbers. It’s just a few words. He can always choose not to go, if they come. He can sign up for this again.

He can take it back.

5. 5. 5. 7. 2. 3. 3.

The click of the little dialpad as he touches the numbers seems impossibly loud, but with each pause between he listens, and he can still hear them sleeping. He’s okay. He’ll be okay.

It’s just some words, a number, a whisper, a plea.

Did somebody love me once, in a way that wasn’t like this?

The phone settles cold against his ear, and he grips the feather in his hand like the medallion of a saint.

He doesn’t know saints. He doesn’t know why that thought came to mind.

Holy St. Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and Charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Encouraged by this thought, I implore you to-

“Hello?”

Rafael nearly forgets how to speak, between his shock that anyone picked up and the sudden burst of sharp pain that wipes the momentary prayer from his memory entirely. “H-Hello. I-I... I was, I am.. um. I n-need...”

“Do you need help?” The voice is low and compassionate, deep and with an accent he can’t place.

They’ll help you, the man from the museum said.

“Please,” Rafael whispers. “Please, I need-... I need help. I, I need... I need out.”

“I’m going to trace your call,” The voice says quietly. “For the purpose of this conversation, you can call me Heather. I’m a liberated pet and I’m here to help. Do you need a rescue?”

Rafael feels tears threatening to fall, and he clutches the feather as tightly as he can. “I don’t know. It’s not-... It’s not, they don’t-... I’m n-not hurt, I just-”

“You don’t have to be in physical pain,” Heather says, quiet and certain, “to be wounded. I need about sixty-seven seconds more to get your location. Do you want to leave?”

No one’s ever asked.

He swallows. “Y... yes. I don’t want to be-... to do this anymore.”

“Okay. It’s okay, this is what we do. What’s your name and designation?”

That’s easy. He answers thoughtlessly, memorized words falling off his lips like petals from a dying flower. “Rafael, my number is 453266, designation Romantic, Facility 012.”

There’s a pause. “You’ve come a long way.”

He swallows “H-Have I?”

“I’ll explain later. It could take us up to fourteen days to effect a rescue. Will you be reasonably physically safe until that time?”

There’s a scrape in the hallway, a footfall. Rafael’s breath catches as he realizes he forgot to keep listening for their breathing, checking that they were asleep. “Oh, no. I have to go. He’s-... I have to go. Please, please find me, please-”

“I’m killing this number as soon as you hang up. It’s okay. We’ve got you. We just need a little time-”

He drops the phone back into the cradle right as his master appears in the doorway, leaning against it on one arm. His eyes glitter dangerously with reflected moonlight.

“Raf? What was that?”

Rafael swallows, lifting his chin as he turns, putting his practiced flirtatious smile on his face. Head tilt, half-lidded eyes. Let the look of sleepy affection wipe away the terror still crawling over his skin. His master moves towards him, naked but he can do more damage naked than Rafael could do in a set of armor.

“I had a-... a nightmare, a false memory,” Rafael says quickly, and steps to his master, feigning gratitude, warmth, happiness at seeing him. “I don’t know what happened. I w-woke up with the phone at my ear.”

“Hm. You haven’t sleepwalked in a long time.” His master moves past him, looking down at the phone, then back up at Rafael. In the darkness it all seems amplified, every threat a near-murder, a knife held precariously against his throat. “What did you dial?”

“I-I don’t know,” Rafael lies, clinging to him, every inch the pet scared of himself, not of the master. “I just heard beeping when I-... woke up, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and the master hums, picking the phone up, hitting three buttons Rafael doesn’t look at, but he knows - he’s having the phone redial the last number called. Raf closes his eyes, and he prays, to nothing and no one and maybe just to the dark of night itself.

He exhales when the only sound is a woman’s tinny voice stating this number is not in service at this time.

His master chuckles, sounding relieved himself. “Well, no harm done, I suppose. But we’re going to have to tie you to the bed at night again, aren’t we? Keep you from wandering.”

“Is that a promise?” Rafael’s voice is shaking but he drops it to low and husky to cover it, his heart pounding and body frozen as he turns into his master’s body, tipping his head for a kiss.

He hates being tied to the bed.

You love this, Raf. You told us it was your favorite way to work when we found you. But it’s not work anymore, is it? It’s your life.

He hates it.

The man’s voice in his mind again as he slides the feather into his pocket. They lie to all of us.

Nobody loved you, that’s why we had to take you in.

Somebody loved you.

“Honestly, Raf, is that the only thing you think about?” His master’s tone is playful, flirtatious. His voice dips lower and Rafael keeps his smile firmly in place, widens it a little.

Inside his head, he thinks, you wanted me to only think about this. I know I didn’t start this way.

Further back, far enough inside he knows it will never show on his face, he thinks, I thought about dinosaurs instead today. I thought about the feather, and the number, and I thought about how maybe you’re the one lying, and I was the one telling the truth.

I just can’t remember what truth I told.

“Back to bed for you, I think,” His master murmurs, presses a kiss over a bruise. Rafael shivers and pretends it’s from desire and not from the ache. “I’ll get out your favorite ropes.”

He hates the fucking ropes.

“Perfect,” Rafael says, and his voice comes out smooth, and soft. “You know I love the ropes.”

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @wildfaewhump

#whump #intimate whumper #intimate whumpers #sadistic whumpers #referenced dubcon #referenced noncon #defiant whumpee #internally but still #pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #memory loss #box boy #rafael is no one's saint #captivity #escape attempt #or rather working up to it #bruises tw

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

Estranged-Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

(GIF credit to @genterie)

Tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings

Masterlist

Prompts List

Requested by anonymous: 'Love your writing it’s amazing! I was thinking of a Fred Weasley imagine where he doesn’t die. And after the war, he falls in love with Draco’s twin. And like her parents accept it because all they want is for her to be happy. (They learned from their past mistakes)'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader, Molly Weasley x Reader (platonic), Lucius Malfoy x Reader (father), Narcissa Malfoy (mother)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, mention of abuse/bad childhood, estranged family relationships, judgement, reconnecting, lots and lots of fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) Malfoy felt people staring at her as she walked down the street, some in disgust, others just intrigued as to why she would show her face after all these years. Her platinum hair gave away her identity, as well as her fine clothes that were clearly expensive. She didn’t want to flaunt, but she had earned these items now, after working to build up a reputation again since...since the battle.

Why couldn’t it be normal for her now? Yes, she had been on the wrong side, but she and her brother, Draco, didn’t have a choice. Their last few years at Hogwarts had been miserable, all because their families had made ties to the Dark Lord. (Y/N) had always been quiet, almost mute when she was younger; although she wanted to speak up about many things, defend anyone her brother was bullying, explain how she didn’t agree with her parents views on wizards who weren’t pure bloods. But she was always too scared, she didn’t want her father to yell at her like he did Draco, or that one time she tried saving a house elf from a beating (that had caused many nightmares to occur). The only time she did use her voice was when she convinced her brother to spare Potter, to lie, to make sure that their fellow classmates could live; although taught from a young age that they were superior, she realised how wrong her families’ beliefs were.

Shops turned silent when she entered, conversations were only whispers, the shop keepers not serving her with the same warmth as everyone else. As usual, she kept quiet, quickly paying for her things then leaving. Deep down, (Y/N) had always known she wouldn’t be normal like anyone else, but she could try.

As she left, keeping her head down again, someone bumped into her with such a force that it sent her flying to the ground. She yelped out, instantly feeling pain shoot up the arm she landed on, her shopping falling out of the bag and scattering around. No one helped her, they walked past as she struggled to gather everything.

“What a bunch of twats.” someone snapped, and she recognised the voice.

Looking beside her, out of all the people in the world, Fred Weasley had bent down to help her.“Fred?”

He sadly smiled, helping her to her feet as he held her bags.“In the flesh. You alright?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out.“Thank you.”

“No problem. I haven’t seen you for years.”

She ducked her head.“Yes, it’s been a while.”

He sensed her anxiousness.“Are you sure you’re OK?”

She cleared her throat, ignoring the pain in her arm.“Now I am.”

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a drink? You know, catch up?”

She looked up in surprise.“Y-you want to hang out with me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Flashbacks to all the times her brother spoke down to their family, the moments where she didn’t stick up for them or tell Draco to back down. And when her family fought against the Weasley’s at the battle. She had heard from witnesses that Molly Weasley was the one to kill her aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange (although it didn’t sadden her, Bellatrix had always made (Y/N) uncomfortable and scared). Yet here Fred was, kindly offering a hand. Sensing her hesitation, he nodded, understanding now.

“I don’t hold grudges (Y/N), especially against those who haven’t done anything wrong.”

(Y/N)’s tense posture relaxed, thanking him once again as she went to take her bags from him. However, he retracted his arms, holding them away from her.

“So, are you coming?” he grinned.

Surprisingly, (Y/N) nodded straight away, laughing as she tried to grab her bags again. He laughed with her, already walking away as she caught up. She recognised the route, they were heading towards Diagon Alley, soon stepping into The Leaky Cauldron. Luckily it wasn’t full of people, they had come at a quiet time, though she still chose a table in the far corner, slightly hidden away. Fred went to get their drinks, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He was being so nice, no one had been like that in a long time.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Fred sighed as he settled back in his seat, handing (Y/N) a drink.

“I don’t really want to think about the last time we saw each other.” she mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“No, me neither.” he quickly changed the subject.“Well, what’s been happening in your neck of the woods?”

“Not much I’m afraid. No one wants to be around a Malfoy.”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

She bravely looked into his eyes.“You’re just being sweet.”

“What about your brother?”

“Draco is fine. He’s actually met someone, it seems serious.”

“Wow, Draco Malfoy is settling down?”

“Yep. I’m happy for him.” she asked the next question before she could think about it.“Have you found anyone?”

He scoffed a laugh.“No, still stuck with my brother at the shop.”

“You know, I only ever went in there once. Draco caught me, he dragged me out of there.”

“What a prick.” Fred closed his eyes, sighing when he realised what he said.“Sorry, just used to saying that.”

She giggled, making him smile.“No, you’re right. He used to be the worst at times. But he’s better now, more understanding. He has a lot more respect for people.”

“And you’re talking more.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“You used to be so quiet. I remember the first time you spoke, it’s all anyone ever talked about.”

“I had always been told to keep my mouth shut or face a consequence. It comes and goes, though I’m happier now. Much happier.”

“Me too.”

That first meeting turned into another, then one more after that, before they found themselves seeing each other every week. These ‘catch-ups’ became much more than that. (Y/N) had laughed more than she had in her entire life, and Fred found it easier to open up to her about the past. They no longer met up in public, Fred mostly visiting her small home (not the lavish Malfoy Manor he had heard so much about) as it was more private and further away from anyone else. Drinks phased into dinner, dinner moved onto staying the night; both couldn’t wait to wake up next to each other, loosely snuggled up before tightening their embrace as they stirred.

They got away with keeping it a secret for months, except from one individual. George wondered where his brother disappeared to, teasing Fred when he came to the shop late and dishevelled. He dared to follow Fred one night, shocked when he saw (Y/N) kissing him. George gently brought it up, at first upset that Fred had been bewitched by a Malfoy. After the three sat down, George saw (Y/N) for who she truly was; she was scared about what George thought, though when he saw how they lifted each other up, he knew this was the right thing.

George had been accepting. But what about everyone else? (Y/N) had thrown up the day of meeting the Weasley family. Fred convinced his parents to not invite anyone else, just let it be the four of them. He also forgot to mention that (Y/N) was a Malfoy. She had to refrain from crying the whole way there, breathing deeply and thinking about something else to avoid a panic attack. She recognised the shock look on Mr and Mrs Weasley’s faces as she walked into the Burrow, their lovely smiles vanishing almost instantly.

“Mum, dad, this is (Y/N).” Fred proudly said, not afraid to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist.

“H-hello.” (Y/N) shakily said, desperately trying to stop her nerves from getting the better of her.

The sound of the poor girl’s voice made Molly’s heart break. Everyone knew of their quarrel with the Malfoy’s, but seeing such the young, intimidated and quiet girl made her forget all of that. It had been slightly awkward at first, but Fred helped ease everyone into conversation, and by the end of the night, there were smiles on everyone’s faces. As they said their goodbyes, Molly had a chance to pull (Y/N) aside, seeing her son and husband deep in conversation.

“Thank you for tonight Mrs Weasley, it’s been lovely.” (Y/N) said, finally feeling comfortable.

Molly had seen (Y/N)’s surprised expression when they had been welcoming to her (once the shock of being a Malfoy went away). This girl had never received this type of attention, Molly imagined the only time the family was together was for silent dinners and public outings. But her personality around Fred was calmer, she looked reassured. (Y/N) needed love, she needed that experience of being part of one big happy family.

“You are welcome here anytime dear.” Molly smiled, squeezing (Y/N)’s hands.

When Fred managed to get (Y/N) away from his mother, she had been gushing about everything that had been said that night.

“Did you hear what she said to me?!” (Y/N) exclaimed.

“Yes, you’ve repeated it many times.” he chuckled.

The happiness remained until Fred brought up the question (Y/N) had been dreading.

“So when can I meet your parents?”

Although (Y/N) desperately wanted to skip that milestone in their relationship, it seemed unfair that she had met the Weasley’s, and Fred wouldn’t meet the Malfoy’s. (Y/N) hadn’t kept much contact with her parents, mostly letters to her mother, even though there wasn’t much to talk about. One night when she was writing one of the said letters, Fred had been looking over her shoulder, convincing her to mention the relationship. (Y/N) found it incredibly hard to put pen to paper, not writing Fred’s name, but explaining how far this relationship of hers had gone. Her mother penned back, expressing how much she wanted to meet the mystery man. It was finally time to do so.

“Should I have got a different suit?” Fred stressed as they made their way to her parent’s house.

“No, why?” she asked.

“Because...well, it’s nice, but not as nice as the ones your dad wears.”

“I don’t want you to dress like my father. I want you to be you. And are you sure you’re alright going there?”

“Are you?”

She thought about it.“Not really. I just keep telling myself that it’s just a house, there’s nothing more to it.”

As they stood outside Malfoy Manor, (Y/N)’s heart rate increased, She felt Fred’s hand become sweaty, but that could have been her’s too. Now looking at it, it felt much more gloomier, more haunting. But they only had to be here tonight, no longer than that. Of course her parents didn’t greet her straight away, the door opened by itself, and the couple cautiously walked in. (Y/N) flinched as the door shut, remembering how much she hated this place. It was so different to the Burrow; (Y/N) knew she should have been grateful for a manor as a home, with lavish decor and large amounts of land, but that could never replace the safe feeling you were supposed to feel at home.

“(Y/N).” her mother, Narcissa, gasped as she entered the room.

(Y/N) crumbled at the sight of her mother, knowing that she wanted their relationship back to how it used to be. But she still didn’t rush to hug her, casually walking over. Narcissa took in (Y/N)’s features, smiling as she thought about how beautiful her daughter was. Hugging her like only a mother could, she didn’t let go early, hating how long it had been since they saw each other. When they pulled away, Narcissa noticed the man, hiding her surprise when she saw he was one of the Weasley boys. (Y/N)’s shoulders ached from how tense they were as her mother approached Fred, opening her arms to him. Her mouth almost dropped open, as did Fred’s as he returned the hug. Narcissa no longer cared about being part of a ‘superior’ family; (Y/N) was happy with this man, and he had managed to bring her daughter back to her.

"Come you two, we have drinks waiting for you." Narcissa smiled, gesturing for them to walk ahead of her.

(Y/N) grasped onto Fred's hand again, feeling her breathing become deeper at the thought of seeing her father. Fred didn't want to push any boundaries in front of her parents, but he would be damned if he let (Y/N) become upset. He wanted to come to ensure that her family gave their blessing, it would feel wrong not to come; but if this was the last time she wanted to see them, then so be it.

Walking into the drawing room, (Y/N) unintentionally gripped onto Fred's hand harder, almost digging her nails in. There were no complaints from him as Lucius Malfoy turned around. He looked a lot better than the last time he saw him, though he had definitely aged, and being part of Voldemort's army hadn't helped with that.

"(Y/N), welcome home." Lucius said, his usual cold tone in his voice.

"Thank you father." she whispered, going back to her quiet self.

"So, he's a Weasley then?"

"Yes sir." Fred spoke, not afraid anymore.

(Y/N)'s head whipped up to look at Fred, then to her father. Lucius narrowed his eyes, stepping forward until Narcissa stopped him.

"Lucius." she warned."We've just got them back."

"Them?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Draco visited only last week. We met Astoria." Narcissa explained.

"He finally did it."

"What? You knew about her?"

Fred squeezed (Y/N)'s hand, silently encouraging her to go on."I send letters to Draco too. We've both been petrified to come back."

"Why?" Lucius had the audacity to ask.

"I'm with a Weasley. You belittled them for years. And it pains me to say that I stood back and did nothing. Never did I imagine that I would be forgiven by them, let alone fall in love with one."

She couldn't believe how forward she was being. But they were all listening intently.

"I've grown since I've left here. Fred has helped me to change, change for the better. I have missed you both, but you can't deny that we weren't a normal family."

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look, a wave of sadness washing over them. They had been caught up in the Dark Lord's work, wanting to fulfill the purpose they had been taught from a young age. They assumed their children would follow in their footsteps. Oh how wrong they were. And they regretted every second of it.

"(Y/N)," Narcissa calmly started, slowly stepping towards the couple,"we cannot express how much we regret abandoning you as a child. We weren't focused on raising our family. Losing you and Draco was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. Your letters have been the only thing bringing us a small amount of joy each week."

"Your mother is right."

Though his face was stern, anyone could see that Lucius meant what he said. He just didn't know how to express that.

"I can no longer tell you what to do or who to be around." he said."Your mother and I have had many long conversations about this particular topic, about you and Draco. We want you to move on, be with someone who will give you a good life and treat you better than we ever did."

This was too much for (Y/N), this was the longest they had ever thought about their feelings ever. She was frozen, unsure if this was a cruel trick. Were they really going to be happy for her?

"A-are you..." she steadied her shaky breath as tears fell from her face."Are you being serious?"

Narcissa's eyes widened at the thought of this being fake."Of course darling. I can't lose you again."

"(Y/N), we are happy for you both." Lucius added.

That sent her over the edge. She made up that she needed a minute, rushing out of the room. Fred didn't hesitate to run after her, calling her as she ran outside. (Y/N) collapsed onto the steps to the door, head in her hands as she sobbed.

"(Y/N), hey, it's alright. I'm here, I'm here with you." he gently said, sitting beside her.

She felt him pull her hands away."I just...I just can't process...did they really say all of that?"

He smiled, wiping away the tears on her cheeks."Yes. They love you. I know you've been through all those hard years, and this is a huge shock. It's going to take time to get used to."

"I'm so happy you're here with me."

"Be a bit awkward if you said you had a boyfriend and didn't show up with one, wouldn't it?"

She let out a short laugh, and he knew that she was calming down."Let it all out love. If you want to, we'll go back inside. If not-"

"No, I think I need to do this. You're with me, that's all I need to continue."

He held her face in his hands, slowly leaning in and pressing a small kiss on her lips."I love you."

"I love you more."

"We've got this, we're in this together, always."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley #Harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter one shot #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter imagines #Draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy imagines #Draco malfoy one shot #Draco Malfoy x reader

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my-darling-luna · 3 years

Text

Your Majesty Chapter 3

Just a reminder that NONE of these gifs are in anyway supposed to represent what the reader looks like, I just use them for a basic look of the dress. I try to be as inclusive as I can be in my writing and if there is anyway that I can be more inclusive, I would love the feedback. Remember to take care of yourself today! I love you!!

Your Majesty Masterlist

Summary- It has been more than a decade since the Kingdom of Ultron lost their princess. (Y/n) was just a 17 year old that didn’t know much about her past. Realizations happen and lives are crossed. How will (Y/n) handle the new pressure?

Stucky x reader

—

“Murdered?” (Y/n) sat in astonishment. The people who cared for her almost all her life were dead. The hatred and disgust for them slowly washed away, leaving only despair and anger at Hydra.

The normal ride took a little under half the time than usual as the horses were no longer at a walk, but rather at a fast jog across enemy lines. The palace doors opened, Vision pulling a dazed (Y/n) along by the arm.

“How was it-” Tony’s face dropped at the sight of what was going on.

“Her caretakers were murdered and a clearly marked threat was on the wall.” Vision said to the king as Pepper pulled her step-daughter tightly into a hug.

“Vision, Rhodey, get everyone into the planning room. I want letters out to every main kingdom in the surrounding area mentioning the urgency for them to show up now.” The three men walked down a corridor and into a room, leaving the two women in the entry way alone.

“Why don’t we go see Morgan, okay? Maybe you can help her with reading.” Pepper’s hand ran up and down (Y/n)’s arm in a soothing way while walking her into the bedroom to the left of her parents’.

“Mommy! Sissy!” (Y/n) cooed at the little girl, sniffing the impending tears back.

“Hello sweetheart, what are you doing there?” (Y/n) sat down on the floor just as she had been taught; with her back straight and her legs crossed at the ankles. Morgan slowly walked over to her sister, her chubby arms held out to grab her cheeks.

“Why cryin’?” Morgan patted (Y/n)’s cheek.

“‘Cause I’m sad.”

“No be sad anymore.” Morgan threw herself into (Y/n)’s arms before pulling away after she got distracted by the colors of her blocks. (Y/n) dabbed away the tears away with a handkerchief so that her makeup wasn’t more messed up than it already was.

(Y/n) took a breath, her feelings were jumbled and her heart ached. It was her fault that her parents were dead. Parents, no that wasn’t right, they weren’t her real parents. Caretakers like Vision called them? No that was insensitive. Foster parents? She could do that. It was her fault that her foster parents were dead. She wanted to hate them so much for keeping her away from her family, but she couldn’t. What would she do if she was Mama or Papa? Would she keep a child away from their own family so that they could be with her? No.

Poking took (Y/n) out of her train of thought. Morgan held a book tight in her grasp while poking her older sister.

“Mommy told me that you would read to me.” (Y/n) smiled and nodded before getting up and sitting on the small toddler bed. Morgan scrambled in behind her and settled in between her legs.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Morgan nodded as (Y/n) opened the book so that both could read. “Once upon a time-”

***

The patter of the rain on the window was easy to lull (Y/n) into a day dream. She was clad in a thin white nightgown with her legs drawn in close to her stomach. Her arms traced the length of her calves absentmindedly.

A knock pierced the quiet room and (Y/n)’s head turned to greet the reason for the noise.

“May I come in?” Her father asked kindly, a mood that was only brought out by his children or Pepper. (Y/n) nodded and the door was closed. Tony sat down on the bed, his weight sinking the mattress. “I meant to ask you earlier, but I’ve been so busy with planning. How are you?” She shrugged.

“I’ve been worse, but I’ve definitely have felt better.” Tony rubbed his daughter’s hand before moving closer to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” (Y/n) paused for a second before nodding.

“I...I just guess that I feel like a bad person.” She looked up at her father who gave her a questioning look. “I mean, I feel like I hate them sometimes, you know? They didn’t even try to send me back to you or anything even though they knew. But then I think about it and I realize that they took great care of me and loved me no matter how I acted.” (Y/n) sobbed, her words were broken off with hiccups at some points. “I hate them, but I love them and that makes me feel terrible.” Tony sighed and tried to make eye contact with his daughter who turned her head away.

Tony tilted his daughter’s head to look at him. “It’s okay to feel like that because I have.” She looked at him with a questioning look. “I haven’t told you much about my parents in the past week and a half that you’ve been with us, but my father- your grandfather- was the toughest person to live with and for the longest time, I resented him, almost hated him. He never seemed like he was proud of me and never showed me any love. I didn’t realize until I was older and he had passed away, that he just wanted the best for me; he just didn’t know how to show his love. And I know that your issues aren’t the same, but I also know that you loved them a lot. It’s okay and normal to feel some type of animosity towards them. You just need to realize that they needed you as much as you needed them at that point, and it doesn’t make it right, but it made them human.” (Y/n) nodded, her tears clearing up.

“Thanks dad.” Tony’s eyes glossed over, but as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared.

“No problem, okay?” (Y/n) nodded and he kissed her forehead. “Do you remember the party I talked about the morning after you came home?” She nodded. “Well all of the surrounding kingdoms are going to join us. It is scheduled in two days and it’ll be a good chance to meet some new people.” Tony’s confidence and smile were infectious and (Y/n) felt better after those words. “Now get up so we can have some breakfast together.” He left the room and soon Lillian came in and put her in a simple gown just for the day.

***

“Can you see that, Morgan?” The little girl nodded and giggled at the sight of the horses out grazing the field. (Y/n) held the little girl on her hip before wrapping her arm around Morgan’s waist.

“They fluffy!” Tony and Pepper watched the two from the inside of the castle. A window outlooked the barns and their two girls stood right outside of it.

“They’re okay.” Pepper mumbled to her husband as she leaned into his side. Tony put his arm around her and gave a quick squeeze to their intertwined hands.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I just get nervous sometimes, especially with everything with Hydra and (Y/n). I just feel like something bad is going to happen, you know?” Pepper hummed in agreement.

“We won’t let anything happen to them, you know that, don’t you? Our girls are safe.”

“Mom? Dad?” (Y/n)’s voice called as soft patters of shoes were heard on the tile. Pepper and Tony turned around to see their daughters, Pepper’s heard warming every time (Y/n) called her ‘mom’.

“Yes sweetheart?” Pepper asked, her voice soft.

“Morgan wants to go riding, I wanted to see if you wanted to as well.” The two adults looked at each other and nodded.

“We’d love to, why don’t we go get changed and meet back here. You have Morgan under control?” (Y/n) nodded and smiled.

“Let’s go get changed, bug.” (Y/n) mumbled to the little girl before walking down the corridor to both of their bedrooms. “Are you excited for tomorrow?” Morgan enthusiastically nodded, a twinkle in her brown eyes. “Good.”

***

“Good afternoon, (Y/n).” Lillian’s sweet voice echoed in the huge room as she shut the door.

“Hello, Lillian.” Lillian watched as (Y/n) rifled through dresses to find the one that she wanted to wear for tonight. “What do you think of this one?” She held up a tan dress with flowers flowing up the skirt and the bodice.

“I think it’s really pretty.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” Lillian shook her head.

“I know that you’ve never went to one of your father’s parties before, but there’s no ‘too much’ there.” (Y/n) smiled back at Lillian.

“Deal. Okay, I think this is it.” Lillian helped her get into her dress. “Have you seen the ballroom yet?” (Y/n) asked, starting light conversation with someone who she would call a friend.

“Yes, it’s beautiful and I think you’re going to love it.” Lillian moved her over to the vanity and started to blot her skin with makeup.

“I don’t know,” she made eye contact with the girl behind her, “I think this is a little much for a girl who just got here.”

“I think it is enough for a lost princess that was found after sixteen years.” (Y/n) shrugged while Lillian finished the last of her makeup.

“Say hi to all the princes that you’ll meet there. They’re all super handsome.” Lillian wiggled her eyebrows which made the two laugh.

“I’ll make sure that they know who you are.” Lillian blushed, not thinking that (Y/n) would take it seriously.

“Good luck!” She called as (Y/n) walked out of the room.

“Thank you.” (Y/n) blew a kiss to her before walking down the hallway and over to where she was supposed to meet her parents and sister.

“You look wonderful, sweetheart.” Pepper kissed her daughter on the cheek and (Y/n) flushed.

“Thank you mom.” Tony kissed her cheek as well, whispering the same compliment to her. She was about to say thank you, but she was so distracted at the sight of her little sister. “You look beautiful, bug.” Morgan giggled. Her dress was a light pink with glitter tulle and a small tiara on her head.

“Thank you!” The four were distracted by the sound of the announcer saying her father’s, mother’s, and sister’s names out loud.

“Good luck, princess.” Tony squeezed his oldest’s hand before walking through the door with the rest of the family. (Y/n) stood by the door, waiting for it to open and for her name to be called.

“Princess (Y/n) of Ultron.” The announcer called and the huge oak doors opened. (Y/n) stepped out onto the balcony and looked down to all of the people below in the ballroom. Her hands were clasped loosely and her back was rigid as she listened to the clapping from down below. This was her new life.

—

Taglist- @austynparksandpizza @aikeia @simplyfandomish @baby-noodles @lili-ann-love @rebloggingeverything @spookyparadisesheep

#stucky x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fantasy #fluff #love #bucky barnes #stark reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #royalty #x stark!reader #marvel x reader #reader insert

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cardiophileanonymous · 3 years

Text

Late Night Errands Chapter 1

Mulder x Reader

Summary: The reader is a paralegal preparing to help defend her client on trial in a week. The stress has finally convinced her to go out and get a stethoscope to help calm her down. Little does she know a certain agent was watching her out while she was out late at night, and it makes her a prime suspect in his eyes.

Y/n= your name

Y/f/n Y/l/n= your first and last name

B/f/n= your best friend’s name

...

Y/n slammed the door shut then started to punch the sides of the steering wheel. What in the world was going through her mind? Of course this store wouldn’t have any stethoscopes! Even if it was a pharmacy. People don’t have stuff like that lying around in their homes. Not normal people, anyway. What was she gonna say to the employee when they inevitably asked why she was looking for one? “Oh, I don’t need one, I just want it for my weird-ass heartbeat kink!” Yeah, that was one conversation she didn’t want to have.

She silently stared at the moon for a few brief moments. Why couldn’t she have a normal kink like everyone else? Like feet, maybe. It still would’ve been weird, but dammit, at least she’d be able to find porn of it. The best she could find easily was cardiophilia fanfiction, and even then, it was scarce.

She snuck glances around the parking lot. Nobody in sight. So hopefully, nobody would notice the blush on her face when she brought up an hour long “asmr heartbeat” video for the sake of calming herself down.

She smiled in bliss. When a heartbeat was in the background, it was like everything melted away. She groaned in frustration when she heard a text from her friend, B/f/n.

Don’t forget we’re having lunch tomorrow! I’m taking your mind off that trial if it’s the last thing I do!

She was double pissed now that the stress of last week filled her head. She was a paralegal, and one of her clients was set to go on trial less than a week from now. It was the oddest case she’d ever seen. The case of Bill Brown.

The man had killed exactly one-hundred people in the span of less than half a year. And the details he gave were chilling. They were vivid and graphic. So, he must’ve been a sociopath or something, right? Well he was super remorseful. And upon turning himself in, that’s right, turning himself in, he sobbed for three days straight. What’s strangest was he claimed he didn’t know they happened until the memories came back to him that night.

She wouldn’t have believed it either, if he didn’t point to bodies that hadn’t been found yet. He helped officers uncover at least a quarter of his victims.

It gave everyone working in his defense a headache. Argue innocence and a false confession? He flat out admitted details the public didn’t know. Did they argue insanity? He seemed pretty fucking sane during interviews and psych evaluations. Self defense? Not in a million years.

What got at her was the genuine feeling he was innocent, and that someone, or something, could be out there. The idea of being out there in the city alone with it out and about gave her the creeps.

“Whatever,” she whispered, turning the audio up so she could return to her blissful ignorant state. Where everything melted away. Where she was actually pretty happy with a smile on her face. With that, she began to drive away.

…

All she could think about when she finished getting dressed was the trial. The trial, the trial, the trial. This was gonna be the biggest train wreck she would ever see in her career, and she had only become a paralegal a mere three years ago. She didn’t envy the defense attorneys she was working under.

Her thoughts were interrupted by three knocks at the door. Strange, she wasn’t expecting anyone today, except for B/f/n, and she was always late for everything.

She looked through the peephole to see two people in fancy clothing outside. She opened the door just a crack.

“H-hello…?”

“Y/f/n Y/l/n,” the man asked. Y/n nodded hesitantly. The man speaking held up the badge and the woman behind him did the same. “Agents Mulder and Skully, FBI. We have a few questions about your client. The one who’s set to go on trial next week.”

She turned her head to the side.

“I’m sorry, I think you might be mistaken. I-I’m not an attorney, I’m just a paralegal.”

“Oh, we’re not mistaken. That’s exactly why we wanted to talk to you.”

She looked inside her apartment real quick, then back at them.

“Okay… come on in. Just come in quickly so the cat doesn’t get out. She has a habit of running outside.”

She was internally grateful that her friend talked her into going out for lunch. She would’ve felt embarrassed if she had had to talk to these well dressed professionals in her pajamas. Skully knelt down, petting Y/n’s cat that had just walked up to the two.

“Um… would you like tea or anything? I’m about to make some for myself now.”

Skully lifted up one of her hands while she let the small animal nuzzle into her other one.

“That won’t be necessary. We plan to be out as soon as possible.”

“O-okay… um... I’m guessing you’re here to ask about Bill Brown?”

Mulder nodded.

“That’s correct.”

“I… don’t really understand. He’s set to go on trial less than a week from now. Why is the FBI getting involved? I thought this was settled, more or less.”

“We think he may be the wrong guy. We’re investigating a series of murders strikingly similar to the ones he supposedly committed a year and a half ago. We need to look at some of the previous evidence and cross examine it with the crimes happening now.”

She still seemed unconvinced.

“Why haven’t you gone to my firm? Or better yet, the police? I-I’m sure they have everything on file.”

Mulder shook his head.

“The lawyers won’t speak to us. And the police department doesn’t want to reopen the investigation when they’re so close to closing it. They don’t want to cause panic.”

She nodded. That actually wasn’t that hard a story to believe, considering the people she worked with on a daily basis. She just looked around the room.

“Okay… you might want to rethink my offer about the tea, then. And have a seat. Because this’ll take a long time.”

...

She presented them with a long list of documents. Some images, most legal papers. She pulled out the two things that were most of interest to her, a map of where the killings took place as well as a few images of supposed murder weapons.

“I’m not really sure what you’re looking for, so here's everything, I guess.”

Skully started flipping through the legal papers, reading passages of the man’s confession. Y/n’s cat slipped under Skully’s arms and laid on her lap as she continued to read. Mulder took a keen eye to the map.

“When did these murders take place?”

“Um, September 14th through February 10th, sir.”

“And he moved here the day these murders started, correct?”

“C-c-correct. You… didn’t already know this?”

“Oh I did. I just wanted to make sure you did. Encyclopedic knowledge of a case is the sign of a good paralegal, don’t you think?”

“Oh!” She let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Thanks…”

“Tell me, Y/n. What do you think happened?”

“Well, the evidence clearly shows he’s guilty, so… we are going to be arguing that he did these crimes due to mania and insanity.”

“No, Y/n. What do you really think?”

She looked down, and started to get finicky. She sat up straight.

“I think he’s innocent… and I have a theory about what happened. But… I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

Skully raised an eyebrow.

“Why haven’t you brought it up with any of the defense attorneys?”

She looked away, then back at the both of them.

“You won’t… tell anyone, right? I don’t wanna lose my job because everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

Mulder nodded expectantly.

“Of course not. Now, what did you find?”

She flipped through the papers.

“While they were at his house… they found a lot of these DVDs.” She was somewhat mumbling under her breath. When she pulled out the image she presented it to Mulder. “I’ve looked them up and they’re all from a lesser known hypnotist.”

Mulder read the bottom of the DVD covers.

“Hannah Martin?”

“...yes. I’ve tried to find those specific DVDs myself, on her website or Amazon or whatnot, but, uh, I can’t find them.”

“Why do you find these significant?”

“Um… Skully, was it? May I please have the written interview?”

She handed it to her. Now that her hands were free, Skully began to pet the cat sitting on her legs, who purred in appreciation. She cleared her throat and began to read.

“Bill said ‘I moved to start a new life, I tried to smile every day, I helped my neighbors, I listened to hypnosis videos every night before bed to make me a better person. I did my best to turn my life around… but I guess I was a monster this whole time. Last night, my memories came back to me in my dreams. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…’”

Mulder nodded.

“So you think that the hypnosis videos he watched before bed may have mind controlled or influenced him into committing these crimes overnight?”

Her face began to turn red and a wave of feeling stupid hit her.

“I’m sorry! I know that sounds insane!”

“No, not to me.” She was in awe. He was actually entertaining her insane supernatural idea? “How far have you looked into this Hanna Martin?”

“You have to pay at least five-hundred dollars for her to create a hundred and fifty custom sessions to send to you personally through DVDs. Um, the first alleged murder was one hundred and forty-nine days before the last alleged murder. That day he confessed would be day one hundred and fifty.”

Mulder seemed incredibly interested. He gazed down at the image he was holding.

“Thank you for bringing this information to my attention. Can you please scan this and make a copy for me? I want to see if I can track down these DVDs.”

“O-okay!”

She was a little excited that her idea was being entertained. And, aside from that, this agent was very cute! So he was cute and as conspiracy crazy as she was?! She smiled like a dope when she was no longer being watched, her back to the two. She began making the copy.

“Another question for you, Y/n.”

She gulped. Something about this man saying her name made her stomach drop.

“Y-yeah…?”

“Do you go out at night often?”

The feeling of her stomach dropping was now from fear.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw your car parked outside the local drugstore late last night, any reason for it?”

She swallowed, hard. She was going for ulterior motives, but she was relieved she had something to fall back on.

“I was getting my medication. Um, I can show you if you want proof?”

“There’s no need to. But midnight is fairly late to be running errands like that, don’t you think?”

She breathed in.

“I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I might as well do something productive.”

He nodded. She turned to look at him, but she couldn’t quite read his face. Was he insinuating what she thought he was? Or was this all in her head? If he thought she was involved, he was probably crazy. She just laid out all this evidence to prove her client innocent, and possibly even helped point to the real killer, yet he thought she might be the guilty one?

“Did you happen to purchase anything from this hypnotist?”

“No, I don’t have that kind of money… and besides, i-if I am right, I don’t know if I would want to get anything from her.”

“Mhm.”

Her dopey smile and blush was gone by the time she handed the copied image to Mulder.

“I’m not sure about the legality of this…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.”

She was a bit angry when they left. B/f/n was a bit confused walking in.

“What happened?”

“Ugh! The stupid FBI is involved in the case now. They wanted to see some stuff.”

She tilted her head to the side and her nose crinkled in disbelief.

“The FBI?”

“I don’t know either! Just… help me pick up these papers. Actually, don’t! I need to make sure they’re all in order before court in a few days!”

She nodded as Y/n began to put everything as they were supposed to be.

“...that guy was kind of cute.”

She sighed.

“I thought that, too. But actually, he’s a dick.”

#cardiophilia #cardiophile #hearts #Mulder #Mulder x reader #x files

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OFC | Chapter 10

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him. He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim. An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond. Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it. A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love. Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life. A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them. Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter: Loki and Alexis finally reunite but not in the way they plan. Life really does enjoy giving them curveballs.

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

Siv paced outside of Sjofn’s bedroom as Sjofn read the letter in privacy. She had seen the sincerity and heartbreak on Loki’s face firsthand and only hoped his letter conveyed the same emotion tattooed on his face. The door swung open and Sjofn walked through. Trails of tears ran down her cheek. Siv couldn’t tell if she was angry or happy or any other emotion in between those extremes.

Sjofn shook the pages, and there were several at Siv. “This… is… the… most…” She let loose a sob. “… beautiful and romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. What did he say to you?”

Siv blinked, processing and recalling the conversation. “That he loves you and that everything was Sigrun’s fault, a girl from his past. He said everything was in the letter.” Siv shifted her weight. “He asked me not to fail him.”

Sjofn embraced her friend. “You did not fail him. I did.” She sobbed softly on Siv’s shoulder. “I never even gave him the chance…” Sjofn gasped and clutched her stomach. “Siv, the baby!”

She touched Sjofn’s belly. “But the due date is not for another three weeks.”

“Ah!” She yelled out in pain. “Well, I don’t think this baby knows how to read a calendar. Because my water just broke.”

“What should I do?” Siv panicked. “What do you need?”

“I need Loki.”

Loki realized when he got back to the Tower, he had failed to ask Hannah, well Siv, to contact him regardless of Alexis’s decision. He paced the floor of their shared apartment. Staring at the phone on the coffee table as if he could will it to ring. He let loose a sigh and turned to head to bed when the phone rang. He lunged for it.

“Alexis?” he asked into the phone.

“It’s Hannah. Come downstairs.”

“What is happening? Is she—”

“NOW, LOKI!” She yelled into the phone.

Loki dropped the phone and bolted for the door. As he dashed through the common area, Tony, Clint, and Bruce bombarded him with questions. He ignored them as he stepped into the elevator.

“I’ll explain later.” Loki offered, satisfying no one’s curiosity as the doors closed in front of him.

Siv paced up and down in front of the bank of elevators in the lobby of Avengers Tower. The elevator dinged, and she rushed to grab Loki’s arm.

“Come with me.”

Loki twisted out of her grasp. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The baby.” Siv hissed.

“Lead the way.”

Siv twisted her way through the lobby until the two of them were in front of a supply closet. Siv opened the door and pulled Loki through with her. Instead of walking into a dingy closet with mops and cleaning supplies, the two of them stepped in a small but clean living room. From a quick glance at the setting suns outside, Loki surmised they were somewhere on Vanir. He could hear yelling coming from the other room. Siv gestured to the doors and Loki took off at a jog. As he stepped inside, he found Sjofn not alone.

“Mother.” Loki’s eyes flashed in anger. “Did you know where she was this entire time and kept it from me?!?”

Frigga stood to her full height after pressing a cold compress to Sjofn’s head. “They summoned me, just as you were. To help with the birth of your child.” Frigga threw daggers at Loki with her eyes to tell him to leave any theatrics for after the birth of his child.

“Loki!” Sjofn called out.

“Alexis! I…” Loki rushed to her side, grabbing a hold of her outstretched hand. She squeezed his hand hard.

“I’m sorry, Loki. I should have… AH!” She tightened her grip even more, and Loki overheard his knuckles crack under the pressure.

Frigga moved swiftly over Sjofn’s body. “I suggest we leave the tearful reunion for later. Right now, I need…” Her eyes darted around the room. “… Siv!”

The young woman appeared at the doorway. “Yes?”

“Towels and blankets. And wet a small towel. And a pair of shears.”

“I feel another one.” Sjofn squeezed Loki’s hand again. “AHH!!” she screamed again. Loki wasn’t ready for the strength of that squeeze, and his knees buckled.

“Ah!” Loki howled.

“Sorry! It hurts so much. Frigga…”

Frigga gazed at her with a pained expression. “I have nothing to give you child and unfortunately, magic is useless.”

Loki extracted his possibly broken hand from Sjofn’s grasp and pulled his mother aside. “Surely there is something you can do to make her more comfortable.” he hissed.

Frigga glanced over her shoulder. “This baby is coming quick, Loki. And early. Between Sjofn’s Vanir heritage and your own magic, I can’t risk it.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open. “What are you saying, Mother?”

“I am saying that there could be complications. I need you to keep her calm and focused.”

Loki nodded. “How do I do that?”

Frigga cupped his face. “You love her. Figure it out.” Their sidebar was interrupted by Sjofn’s screaming in pain and Siv pulling Frigga away.

“Darling,” Loki returned to Sjofn’s side.

“The baby’s coming, Loki. I’m scared.”

He pushed her hair off her forehead and pressed his lips to her temple. “I know.” He chuckled while fighting back tears. “And we haven’t even picked out names.”

“We don’t have names. We don’t have anything, Loki!” Her eyes widened. Sjofn hyperventilated.

“I am sure Stark would be more than willing to shop for us.” Loki commented as Sjofn squeezed his hand through another contraction.

Frigga popped her head over Sjofn’s stomach. “Push on the next contraction.”

“Stark? Really?” Sjofn exclaimed. “I don’t want the baby’s crib to explode.”

“What if Nat goes with him?” Loki offered. Frigga caught his eye.

Sjofn nodded. “I like that idea. Oh…”

“Push, Sjofn!” Frigga called out.

Loki squeezed Sjofn’s hand tight. “Push, my love. One, two, three, four, five. Relax.”

Sjofn fell back onto the bed, panting. “What about names?”

“No time for names, push.” Frigga commented.

“Ahhh!!!” Sjofn screamed, pushing hard.

“One, two, three…” Loki counted it out for Sjofn through the contraction. “You are doing so well, darling. The baby is almost here. Our child, love.”

Sjofn sobbed out of exhaustion. “I can’t… It’s…”

Loki grabbed her hand even tighter. “You can, my sweet. You will. And I will be right beside you the entire time. That is, if you will have me.”

“Loki, please. I need you.” Her nails dug into his hand.

“Big push, Sjofn.” Frigga said without looking up.

“One big push, darling. Can you do that for me?”

Sjofn nodded and bore down, pushing with all her might. “AHHHHHHHHHH!” She grunted and soon the sharp cry of a baby filled the room.

Frigga cleaned up the baby and placed the baby of Sjofn’s chest. “Say hello to your son.”

“A son?” Loki’s voice cracked. “I have a son?!” His eyes welled with tears as he caught Frigga’s eye.

“You have a son.” She smiled at Loki.

Sjofn smiled down at the tiny baby, crying and rooting against her. “We have a son, Loki.” Her face dropped. “Oooh, woah.”

Frigga’s brow furrowed. She ducked back down between Sjofn’s legs. “Push one more time, please.”

Loki cradled the baby as Sjofn pushed hard, confused and scared.

“And again.” Frigga countered. “I think we have a stowaway.”

Sjofn pushed again, and another cry echoed against the walls.

“And here is your daughter.” Frigga held up a second, even tinier baby.

Loki’s mouth dropped open. “Two?”

Frigga nodded. “Twins. It’s rare, but then so is having Jotun and Vanir parents. And it would explain why Sjofn got so sick. It took a lot of magic to stay hidden.”

Sjofn sighed. “Like her father.”

Loki frowned. “More like her mother. Disappearing on me.”

The two of them locked eyes before laughing. Frigga looked on with a smile. “And to think the two of you hated each other.”

Loki turned to face Sjofn. “I was young and foolish.” He pecked her lips.

“I was too. I can’t imagine my life without you, Loki. Can I come home?”

Loki’s head dropped. “We will go home as a family.”

One of the twins cried out at this point. Loki and Sjofn cooed after the twins.

“You realized Odin and Freyr will never let the two of you forget they were right.”

Loki’s face dropped, as did Sjofn’s. But soon a devious smile broke out over Loki’s face.

“I’m sure we can devise something to displease them.”

“What did you have in mind?” Sjofn squeezed Loki’s arm.

“Before you go plotting against your fathers,” Frigga stepped in, a small smirk on her face. “what are you naming my grandchildren?”

“Speaking of names, darling, what do I call you these days?” Loki stared at Sjofn.

Her brows pinched in contemplation. “I think I have rather grown attached to the name Alexis. Besides, Sjofn is too hard for Midgardians to pronounce.”

Loki let loose a small laugh. “I love you, Alexis.” He pressed his lips against hers. She reached up and cupped his cheek. A baby cried. Loki glanced down. “I love you too, my princess.” He kissed on the top of her head. “And my son.” He kissed the other.

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki smut #loki angst #loki x ofc #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #destiny has other plans

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toastedside · 3 years

Text

Valentine Blurbs

Batboys (+ Bruce) Valentine Blurbs.

Note: Happy valentine! It’s a month full of love, meaning I can find reason and indulge myself in these fic while pouring my heart for my boys. I hope you find the warmth of love and a little bit of happiness in this.

Prompt: Different ways to say I love you.

Bruce – “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

The ballroom was lavish, gold and black glittered around the room like a prideful emperor march around the city. It was filled with people dressed like they’re going to flaunt everything they have in their pocket, polite laughter and chatter mixed together in the air. You smiled politely as you tried your best to follow Mrs. Harris’s conversation about whatever it is about the latest gossips of the Gotham Elite. She’s an old lady that never learn how to stick her nose into where it belongs, and you hate to admit that some of her stories are indeed interesting.

Champagne on your hand was half empty, and your feet started to get hurt from standing too long. Even after a long way of attending galas and rich parties alike, you’d never get used to it. Maybe you get better at it, sure, but galas are suffocating and painfully exhausting.

You excused yourself after finishing your champagne, eyes darted around to find a slightest sight of your husband. It no longer surprised you, or anyone really, that he had a knack to slip away undetected from this kind of event. You walked through the empty and dark hallways, knowing exactly where he would be as your feet brought you into the balcony.

“I believe we have guests and party to attend, Mr. Wayne,” you greeted him as you inhaled the cold breeze. It was a welcomed change from the suffocating ballroom.

You saw Bruce’s lips twisted upwards. His hand stretched out in a silent invitation for you to join him, in which you gratefully accepted. “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

“It’s an important one. We worked days and night for this.”

“There’s no way to convince you to sneak out from this party, no?” he raised an eyebrow. You wanted nothing but to scowl at him for able to read you like an open book.

“If we go back a little while for ten minutes top, you’d get to hang out with me alone for the rest of the night.”

Bruce smiled. So wide and bright that you were sure the moon above was ashamed of his smile alone. He pulled you gently closer to him, planted a soft kiss into your hairline as he muttered, “Sounds good to me.”

Dick – “I dreamt about you last night.”

Dick pressed his phone lazily into his ear. His eyes still closed as he battling away the drowsiness that kept pulling him in and out of sleep. He could feel the sunlight slowly seeped into his room through the blinds as he listened patiently to the monotone ring on his phone.

“Hello?” you answered after the fifth ring. He figured you’d be out for work by now, but he couldn’t risk to wait for another minute. He smiled as soon as your voice blessed his ear.

“Hey babe,” he greeted. Voice still thick with sleep. “I dreamt about you last night.”

He could hear your breathless chuckle, as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs out of surprise. His lips involuntarily tilted upwards upon hearing your chuckle. Dick reckoned it’s a muscle memory at this point that the corner of his mouth would immediately turn upwards at the sound of your laughter.

“Oh yeah? What was it about?” you asked. Dick could hear the wide smile on your face. He closed his eyes and the image of you smiling with raised eyebrows popped inside his brain.

“You.”

“Hmm, I hope it was a nice one.”

“It was!” he said as he sat up on his bed. Suddenly felt more awake as his brain wrecked hard to replayed the pleasant dream he had. “I slept good and happy. Thanks to you.”

Jason – “I did the dishes.”

Truth to be told, you didn’t know what to expect. You hadn’t had any particular expectation upon how your day would end up be like. The exam waiting for you in two days and endless list of deadlines had been the only thought that plagued your mind. Eating you alive as you tried to hold into the strands of sanity you had left.

You didn’t expect Jason to show up, standing in your kitchen with a sheepish smile as he said, “I did the dishes.”

To think about it, you just realize you haven’t seen him in three days.

You blinked at him. Brain still unable to process the event displayed in front of you. You had come out from your room and head to the kitchen to grab an ice cream. Instead, you found a tall man stood in front of your kitchen sink and your three-days’ worth of dirty dishes done. All squeaky clean and neatly tucked in the cabinet.

“Why?” was the only thing your exhausted brain managed to muster.

Jason shrugged. “I know your study can be overwhelming. Especially since exam week is coming.”

Suddenly, the thought of him filled your brain to the brim. There was no such room for words. Only overflowing thought of him and the feelings you harboured in your chest. Jason stared at you alarmingly, his eyes wide.

“I am sorry,” his voice was above whisper. “Did I upset you?”

You shook your head as you let out a wet chuckle. You hadn’t realized you had been crying. There’s no other place you’d rather be than his arms right now, so you headed straight away into your desired destination. You felt Jason relaxed underneath your touch, and you felt him smile as you captured his lips as you wordlessly said thank you.

Tim – “It reminds me of you.”

No, he had no reason. His eyes merely caught the glimpse of periwinkle and baby’s breath on his way for photo hunting. So bright and pure underneath the sunlight, tucked in the middle of concrete jungle. Like an oasis in the middle of a desert, bright and cheery and inviting. Almost looking like it was out of place.

Tim had subconsciously walked himself towards the flower shop. His camera in his hand, eyes staring straight into the periwinkle and baby’s breath placed next to one another. He couldn’t understand why he had held his breath upon such a mundane sight.

Flowers in a flower shop. Yet it was the most mesmerizing sight he had seen all day.

“What’s the occasion?” you let out a surprised laugh as he showed up and presented a bouquet of periwinkle and baby’s breath.

Tim pressed his lips together. He couldn’t put the dots on why he did what he did. Surprisingly enough he was content with the gnawing fact he had act on his impulse to bought you a bouquet of flowers. It was mesmerizing, beautiful, and he was left in stunned silence upon seeing it for the first time.

You looked up from your present to meet his eyes. A smile still persistently painted across your face. Tim sucked a breath in and held it altogether. Beautiful, he silently thought to himself, almost like it strung out of nowhere. A beauty in a such misshaped place his room is.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning in the daylight. He smiled as he shook his head. He knew he wasn’t the most romantic boyfriend in the whole world, but he would be dammed not to let you know.

“Nothing. It reminds me of you.”

Duke – “Call me when you get home.”

You watched him pouting from the doorframe. You had to physically restrain yourself from pulling him into your embrace and smoothen out the pout on his lips. But knowing Duke, that probably would end up cost you another hour of him clinging into your side.

Duke watched you with arms folded in front of his chest. He looked so mesmerizing underneath the twilight. The sky above was a hue of orange and pink, a hint of black appeared on the line of horizon. Yet your eyes locked into his.

“Stop pouting!” you reprimanded him with a laugh. “You’ve hogged my attention for two days.”

“You’re absolutely mental if you think it was enough.”

“I have my own apartment,” you pointed out, “that I need to occasionally visit and clean.”

Duke knew it was true. He always knew when to back out and when to stood on his feet from an argument with you. Something he had learned fairly fast and well enough. You watched him shook his head with a smile.

“Come here,” he said as he spread his arms. “Give me one last kiss before you go.”

You complied with rolled eyes. His embrace was warm and inviting, you almost not want to let go. He leaned closer to capture your lips and you met him halfway. It was a quick and short one, left you wanting for more.

“Call me when you get home.”

Damian – “I hope you like it.”

Damian clutched a small canvas to his side. He frowned at the sensation of his heart thump inside his ribcage painfully. The sound of loud chatter of his classmates had been drowned by the ringing on his ear. His fingertips felt uncharacteristically cold. Was it the air conditioner?

He let out a quiet sigh. Was it the symptom of flu? Did he accidentally got exposed to a poison during his patrol? He was pretty sure he was fine in the morning. Days before that as well. So, what’s with the pounding heart?

His eyes darted around the packed hallway; mouth pressed together as he silently muttering your name. It was a tedious and hard job to find a person in a packed crowd, let alone a bunch of loud students on a break in a school hallway.

“Damian, hey!” it was you who had spotted him at first. Looked around like a lost and kicked puppy in the middle of a bustling city.

It has always been a funny thing between you two that he hadn’t understand. For some reason, you always had a knack to spot him in a bustling crowd when he hadn’t able to spot you. One thing that escalated almost immediately as soon as friendship blossomed between you and him. He approached you silently, the coldness on the tip of his finger had spread throughout his arms.

“I made you this,” he said as he discreetly shoved a small canvas into your hand. It was a beautiful painting of Alfred’s rose bushes in the garden. He had vaguely recalled you nonchalantly said wanting to see a rose bush in person. “I hope you like it.”

Damian immediately walked away towards his next class before you had a chance to speak. He knew eventually he had to talk about his painting and let you properly said thank you. But for now he would need to find a place to tame his erratic heart and his cold fingers.

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shrimp-piss · 4 years

Text

a wip that i made for this post!

Zuko/Sokka | word count: 1271 | grocery store au

Pay attention, please just pay attention to her, Zuko says to himself. There’s a woman at his register talking about her adoring child while she’s fumbling around with the card reader. She’s hit cancel on it three times, making Zuko put in his code over and over again to say that she actually does want to buy her groceries. He’s trying his best not to be rude, to vaguely listen and be as polite as possible, but ninety percent of his brain is pulling his eyes to search for his favorite customer.

Zuko’s worried that he won’t come in today. He specifically requested to have his thursday morning shift be changed to the wednesday evening shift because of this boy. Jin had told him that for the past three weeks he comes on wednesday just to ask about Zuko and if he would ever work on that day. A bit odd, yes, but he figured the guy had more time to loiter around the store on wednesdays. He did seem like he was on a rush on other days.

“Oh, I just know you and him would be best friends!” the woman squeals. Zuko’s pulled back to this plane of existence and throws her a questioning look. “You’re both gay!” She points to his rainbow button on his apron. Zuko almost forgot that he pinned it on a few days ago to let his favorite customer know that he was gay and was interested if he was flirting wtih Zuko. Zuko was pretty sure he was flirting. Sort of? If flirting was buying super weird things and then asking about them as if Zuko had a clue why they sold that stuff. He was (kind of) sure it was a type of flirting.

(continues after cut)

He grabbed her receipt and tried not to shove it into her hand. “Have a nice day ma’am,” he said quickly. She smiled brightly at him, despite his rude behavior (he was self aware that he wasn’t being as good as he could be) and shuffled off with her bags.

Shifting on the balls of his feet, he looked from the front of the store - to see if the mystery man had walked in yet - then back to look at his register. He nervously tapped at some of the buttons, going through his memory of which item had which code, and what he would buy from the bakery for himself for his dinner tonight. It was a way to distract himself from his ever growing nerves.

As he was opening and closing the money box, someone slipped up to his counter and rested their elbows upon it. Zuko tried to cooly look at who was there, but he already knew. The gentle smell of lilacs and the ocean were his dead give away. Sucking in a breath, Zuko looked up and down the boy, raising his eyebrow. “Can I help you?” Zuko asked. Fuck. That sounded bitter didn’t it? But he didn’t take it back. He was caught up in the boy’s eyes and the few freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose. The guy was smiling at him and let out a small laugh.

“Yes actually. I was wondering if you could help me find the perfect baguette? You see, I’m going on this date and if it’s not the most perfect baguette, I think I’ll just die from embarrassment.” As the boy said “date”, Zuko could feel his heart drop. Had he read this whole situation wrong completely?

For what was probably an eternity, Zuko just stared at him blankly. He had no idea what to say. A part of him wanted to tell him he was banned from the store, another part wanted to help him find the worst bread he could find out of spite, and another part wanted to say he would make a better date and that he deserved the most perfect baguette that they had. But he didn’t. He held his tongue instead. “Hello? Zukooooo?” the boy drawled out.

Zuko looked away from him and turned back to his monitor. “How do you know my name?” His words came out harsh, almost biting like. Still, this didn’t bother the man.

“You have a name tag, duh.” Fuck. Zuko resisted the urge to rip it off. Another moment of odd silence filled the gap between them. He could see the guy’s smile quirk into an odd smirk. “You don’t know my name, do you?” Zuko shook his head. He tried not to be weird and look at the guy’s name on his card. He wanted to give him some privacy. “It’s Sokka. Now, can you show me the bread section please?”

Zuko considered telling him that there were other workers around the store that could help with that, and that it wasn’t technically his job to help him at the moment. Though, he wasn’t exactly required to stay at the register. “Sure. Fine. Yes. Follow me,” he grumbled between closed teeth. He gestured to Jin to take his place from her bagging station and lead the way for Sokka.

In theory, the bread section was only about a one minute walk. In practice, it felt like it was only a few seconds but also a thousand years at the same time. Zuko pointed hastily to the basket, avoiding Sokka’s bright blue puppy dog eyes. Sokka beamed and started inspecting each long loaf.

Zuko stood and watched him sort through the loaves. He should return to his station, but he couldn’t pull himself away. He wanted to ask who he was going on a date with. If he had been flirting with Zuko for the past three months or if he was looking for something that didn’t exist. But once again, he didn’t say anything.

Sokka turned to face Zuko, a blinding radiance of happiness bouncing off from him. “Found one!” he cried out gleefully. Zuko’s heart string pulled painfully and he shoved his hands into his pocket.

“Great,” he gritted out. Why was here, punishing himself this way? He should just tell Sokka to fuck off, to leave him alone, to stop getting his hopes up, to-

“When does your shift end?” Sokka said, interrupting Zuko’s thought process.

Zuko looked up, feeling his mouth hanging open slightly at the question. “Eight.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at eight then.” He walked over to Zuko, taking one of his hands out of his pocket and leading him back to the registers. Zuko didn’t walk with him. He felt like he had missed a good portion of this conversation.

“What do you mean? Why are you picking me up?”

“For our date tonight!” Sokka turned back to him, a confused look plastered across his whole face. Zuko’s whole body became unbelievably hot and he could feel a blush creeping up to his ears. Another emotion took over Sokka’s confusion, his eyes widening in a panicked fashion. “Oh my god, I forgot to ask if you wanted to go on a date, didn’t I?”

Zuko nodded. Sokka raised his hands, about to say something, but Zuko cut him off before he could get a word out. “I’d love to go out on a date with you tonight.”

“Great. Great!” Sokka gave him finger guns and started walking backwards, his iconic crooked and awkward smile returning to his face. “I’ll see you then!” Zuko watched as Sokka backed into the front doors, his eyes still pinned onto Zuko.

The beautiful boy was leaving his line of sight when he remembered the baguette. “Sokka!” he cried out, running after him. “You haven’t paid for that yet!”

#zukka #sokka #zuko #atla #Avatar the Last Airbender #fic #my fic #wip #this has not been edited i apologize

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zukkoxx · 3 years

Text

refusing to hold their hand

w/ bakugo, deku, kirishima (time skip)

bakugo 💥

this dude....

first of all, he was always hesitant to hold your hand in the first place

being that his quirk was easily set off by his sweaty hands.

but when he did happen to hold your hand, it was tight, firm, almost impossible to break free from.

but you loved messing with your boom boom boy, so you decided to pull a joke

you were at the market on ur usual every other week errand run, getting a couple of things for your home.

bakugo was pushing the chart while you were striding next to him.

usually, you had your hand under his on the bar of the cart while he pushed it, just to be close to him.

but when you didn’t make your hand over to his like you always did, he decided to just grab yours, thinking you forgot.

he reached for your hand that was swinging by your side and grabs it, placing it on the bar and putting his on top.

but you quickly pulled away before he could get too comfortable

“ahh i’ve been looking for these!” you say, walking to an aisle with chips.

bakugo just watched you with a quirked eyebrow as you walked away from him.

he approached you slowly as you held up two different kinds of chips. “which ones?” you ask

“just get both.” he says gruffly, and you smile, placing them in the back of the cart.

“come on, i have to get something for dinner.” your boyfriend says, holding his hand out towards you.

you walked up to him, and slide your hand down his muscular arm.

and just as you reached his wrist, you let your hand flop to your side, leaving his cold and alone.

“why are you...?” he begins to ask, still confused of your actions

“hm?” you perkily ask, turning your gaze towards him.

“never mind, let’s go.” he tries to give you a hint, anything to let you know you weren’t holding him.

he hooks his arm under yours and lifts it til your hand is where he can grab it. but as he goes to reach for it yet again, you pull away and fold your arms, making it impossible for him to take a hold of your hand

he stared blankly at you as you begin to walk away from him. ( u know that confused face he has)

“hey, what’s your problem?” he yells from behind you.

“what’re you talking about kats?” you ask obliviously.

“why won’t you hold my hand? what, are they too sweaty?” he quickly rubs his hands on his jeans before squeezing them, making sure they feel right.

“too warm?” he adds.

“there’s nothing wrong with them katsuki. why do you ask?”

“well because; you always push the stupid cart with me while we’re in the store...now your acting like you don’t even wanna be near me!” he grunted embarrassingly.

he never liked admitting how much he loved your touch. how at ease it made him feel.

and how you were one of the only people that was comfortable being that close to him

the fact that you were resisting it put him on edge, and you noticed when you saw the confusion and distress in his eyes

you decided to stop the joke, and quickly walked to him, tucking your hand under his on the bar of the cart and smiling. “i’m sorry katsuki. i didn’t notice.” you awkwardly smiled.

no you didn’t tell him it was planned.

he would have held a grudge against you the entire day.

and besides, seeing him sigh in relief and his features relax when you finally held his hand was the best reaction you could ask for.

deku 🥦

izuku was an amazing boyfriend

he always took into consideration how you were feeling, if you were comfortable with things,

just you in general.

he’d never let your opinions or thoughts be shut out.

but that doesn’t mean he won’t question you when you seem to be acting weird or out of the ordinary.

you guys were going on a date at a park you lived by.

you decided to walk to take in the warm weather, and naturally, he went to grab your hand that swayed aimlessly by him.

smiling slightly, he tugged on your fingers before intertwining them.

but with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you quickly pulled it away, stuffing it into your pocket.

izuku turned to you with a questioning expression.

his eyes glanced down at the hand covered by your jeans as he sighed, missing the feeling of you palm pressed tight against his.

he decided to not question it, thinking your hand must’ve felt more comfortable in your pocket at the moment

when you guys made it to the park, he helped you set up the picnic you planned on having and began having easy conversation with him.

he stared at you lovingly as you told him about your week. defeating villains and what not.

he couldn’t help but scoot towards, wanting to be close.

he looked down at the hand you were leaning on, and began to rub your wrist softly, hoping you’d open your palm so he could grab it.

but when you shift to sit straight up and placed you hands in your lap, he decided to say something.

“baby, are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“i’m fine izuku. why?”

“i-it’s nothing! just making sure...um...do you not want to hold my hand? it’s fine if you don’t! i don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to it’s just i love holding your hand and-”

you were quick to stop izuku when he went into an overthinking rant by pressing a soft kiss on his cheek, shutting him up right away.

“i’m sorry izu...i was just joking around. there’s nothing wrong.”

you said, looking at his flushed but relieved features.

“ahh..good. you scared me for a second there.” he chuckled, finally grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of it.

kirishima 🪨

eijiro was a really touchy, clingy boyfriend to begin with.

if you were near him, there was no doubt you’d be having some type of contact with him.

hand around your waist, back hugs from behind.

touch was definitely one of his love languages.

how mean you were! pulling this prank on him just to show mina that kiri wasn’t that dependent on your touch.

it started as a little joke when he picked you and mina up for lunch, who you were patrolling the streets with.

eijiro went to grab your hand and mina looked at you with the most devilish smile.

you could tell what that smirk meant, remembering the conversation you had with her just about an hour ago.

she stated that kiri was so adamant on touching and being near you that it would be impossible for him to stay away from you for over an hour. which was how long your lunch break was.

so instead of lacing your fingers with your red haired boyfriend, you put them behind your back.

kiri was confuzzled. you don’t walk like that...ever.

but he shrugged it off. he’ll have more opportunities to hold you.

you guys made it into the small cafe where you would eat lunch, and much to his dismay, you ended up sitting next to mina and diagonal from him, instead of next to him like you usually did.

questions and insecurities made his heat beat quicken as he stared at you intensely.

were you mad him?

in a bad mood?

you glanced at his gaze and quickly smiled at him, seeing him visibly untense but continue to look at you peculiarly.

the lunch was normal for the most part. you were talking to him like everything was fine, but as you left, and he went to try to grab your hand again, you were quick to speed walk in front of him.

and you didn’t even kiss his cheek before you went back on patrol.

having enough of your standoffish vibes, kiri took it into his own hands to show you what you were missing out on

after a long day of patrol, you entered your shared house, only to find kiri already at the door.

you had long forgotten about what mina said by now, and smiled as you walked closer to him. “hey eiji-”

it was almost too fast for you to understand what was going on before you realized you were pressed against the door with kiri’s lips tight against yours.

your eyes were wide with surprise and after a few seconds, you tapped kiri three times in an attempt to catch your breath.

he pulled back with a deep pout. “that didn’t work either!?” he asked suddenly

“what are you talking about eijiro?” you heaved.

“babe- you haven’t touched me all day, you didn’t even hold my pinky while we walked to my car like you usually do!” he almost whined, shoulders dropping. “i thought that if you were reminded how awesome and loving your man could make you feel, you would stop avoiding me.”

saying you felt bad was an under statement.

you sighed, reaching up to place a hand on kiri’s cheek which he instantly fell into.

“i’m sorry eiji! it was a stupid joke between mina and i. she was convinced you couldn’t go an hour without touching.” you sheepishly laugh.

“and she was right! that was torture, y/n.”

“i’m sorry my love.” you stood on your toes and quickly pecked your pouting boyfriend. “it won’t happen again.”

he couldn’t resist the smile that was forming as he leaned down. “better not.”

HELLO IM BACK!! work & school has been kicking my ass, i’m sorry for my inactiveness. how was this?? i’m happy to hear ur feedback.

also i’m working on requests, so plz send some if you’d like. tap here -> 🥀

have a good day/night loves! <3

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