#these are SUCH funny tags to put under 'i dream of eggs over easy' but literally i cannot fully express how healing it is

[lynxalon]

i dream of eggs over easy

[tennessoui]

this is probably too many prompts lol but uhhh obikin: #6 meeting at a coffee shop au; #24 literally bumping into each other au; #40 exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (i'm a sucker for breaking up and getting back together again lol); #42 star-crossed lovers au; #48 meeting again at a high school reunion au

hi!! you probably forgot you sent this at all and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. I'm pretty sure someone else already asked for 24, 40, and 42, so I wrote #6 instead! warnings for this one: bittersweet in that both anakin and obi-wan are sad, also the author is sad, also this takes place in the midwest in america (this is the first fic that is obviously set in america!!! wow!!)

6. Meeting At A Coffee Shop Diner AU (1.9k)

“Have a seat anywhere you want,” the hostess tells Obi-Wan without looking up from her phone.

Obi-Wan blinks and then looks around the deserted seating area. “Thank you, uh.” She’s not wearing a name tag.

“Angel’ll bring you the menu and take care of you, thanks for coming in,” she says, glancing up at him and then away.

Well then. Obi-Wan reminds himself that customer service isn’t everyone’s strong suit, that she might have had a rough day, that he’s here for the quick food on his way through town, that his ego isn’t fragile enough that he needs to be led to a table with a smile.

The restaurant is almost completely deserted. There’s two truckers eating their weight in bacon and eggs at the counter, and a family of four seated around a table, resolutely picking at their food instead of talking to each other. And then there’s Obi-Wan.

He chooses a booth by the window, one that overlooks the absolute nothingness of midwestern American scenery. If he cranes his neck, he can probably see corn.

God, Obi-Wan’s sick of seeing corn, and he’s only been in this part of the country for a few hours. He needs to go right through most of it to get where he’s headed. He’s not sure how he won’t die of boredom.

The thought sends a pang through his chest. It’s too soon to think of death even in an offhand way. He taps his fingers on the cover of his leather journal, before a line of dark brown under one of them catches his eye. He studies his hand critically.

It’s been two days since the funeral. Surely he wouldn’t still have grave dirt under his nails. Surely things like that wash away eventually.

“Hey,” a voice says from in front of him. A man is turned around and kneeling up in the booth in front of Obi-Wan’s, leaning over the garishly red vinyl of the empty seat with a menu clutched in one hand. His hair is short and dark blond, an undercut with a long fringe settling over his forehead. He has a nice sort of smile, one that looks genuine but doesn’t touch his eyes. Obi-Wan notices how long the man’s neck is and how predominant his collarbones appear in the loose white shirt he’s wearing, before he forces himself to focus only on his face. “I’m Angel,” the guy says, passing over the menu. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Obi-Wan accepts it gingerly. It looks like something that’s perpetually sticky. “Water is fine,” he says politely. “Thank you.”

“Will do,” Angel salutes him and ambles away. Obi-Wan watches him go before shaking his head to rid himself of any sort of thought, and opening the menu.

It’s standard food fare, of course. Breakfast options served all day if anyone were to come in and request them. Lunch and dinner options are also served all day, probably for the same reason: a diner like this can’t afford to turn anyone away, even if they want a hamburger at nine in the morning.

A glass of water clinks down onto the table next to him, making him look up at Angel, who’s looking at him curiously.

“You ready to order?” he asks, even though Obi-Wan is still very much looking at the menu and it’s also only been a few minutes at most since Angel gave it to him in the first place.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Obi-Wan asks politely. “I’ve never been here before. What’s good?”

“The water,” Angel says and then laughs like he’s said something funny. Obi-Wan finds his own mouth curling up at the sound. Sometimes people’s laughter is contagious, like a yawn.

And then Angel says, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “North of Boston.”

Angel whistles, like Obi-Wan has said something impressive. “Boston, huh? What are you doing all the way out here?”

The pit in his stomach intensifies. He does his best not to look at his nails and the grave dirt that might still be under them. “Driving,” he finally says. “And are you...from around here?”

Angel’s eyes grow distant for a second, and when he focuses again on Obi-Wan, they’re cold. “Born and raised,” he tells him flatly. “Never got out.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to do with the sort of bitterness in Angel’s tone. It complements his own well enough.

“If you like eggs, I’ll put you in for the house special omelette,” Angel declares suddenly, all business again. “It’s four eggs, tomatoes, peppers, cheese. The usual.”

“What makes it special?” Obi-Wan asks, closing his menu and setting it down on the table in front of him.

“For you?” Angel drawls, “I’ll watch the cook to make sure he doesn’t get any egg shells in it,” and then he winks, holding out his hand.

Naturally, Obi-Wan shakes it. Naturally, Obi-Wan realizes a second after feeling Angel’s warm, calloused rough palm against his own that the man had meant to take the menu from Obi-Wan.

He can’t remember the last time he’s blushed this red, but he is absolutely regretting everything about this road trip. God, he’d pay money just to be able to leave now.

He should get in his car and drive back to Boston. It had been a stupid idea to come out here anyway, a result of stir-craziness and a desire to outrun the death of his father.

And now look what he’s doing. Shaking hands with his handsome waiter, as if he isn’t thirty-nine and perfectly aware of social norms.

Thankfully, miraculously, Angel laughs and this time it sounds real. “It’s okay,” he tells him, reaching out to pick up the menu.

Luckily for everyone involved, Obi-Wan finds it very easy to laugh at himself. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Angel, I’m Obi-Wan.”

“I’ll go put the order in,” Angel says, “Obi-Wan.”

He’s back within five minutes, sliding into the seat across from Obi-Wan. So much for no eggshells in his omelette, but he can’t bring himself to be disappointed. There’s something magnetically fascinating about Angel. He’d like to know more.

“So you’re driving?” Angel asks, picking up a thread of conversation from several minutes ago. “Where are you going?”

“I was thinking of Alaska,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve--I’ve always wanted to go.”

“You’re driving from Boston to Alaska?” Angel whistles, raising his eyebrows in shock. “I think the gas money alone would cost me two months of work.”

Obi-Wan shrugs. It’s not like he makes much himself as a teacher in Massachusetts. “My father was a lifelong gambler,” he discloses without really knowing why he’s telling this to a stranger. “He came into a bit of luck near the end. A bit of a fortune as well. And when he...died, I inherited it and his house.”

Angel touches his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “When did he pass?”

Obi-Wan huffs out what might be a chuckle. “A week ago, actually. It’s summer break in Massachusetts--I’m a teacher--and I suddenly had nothing to stay for, for a bit. It was either leave for Alaska or find some other way to cope.”

He runs a hand--his free hand, the one Angel isn’t touching--over his beard as he gives the man a rueful smile. “Dad always wanted me to see more of the world.”

“My mom was the same way,” Angel leans forward to tell him, as if it’s a secret. Obi-Wan feels like it is a secret, that there’s something delicate and fragile in the air. Something that matches whatever emotion is filling up Angel’s eyes. “Always telling me to leave, go get famous, go get happy, come back and tell her about it.”

“You didn’t?” Obi-Wan asks, his chest tightening at the thought that the man before him could be unhappy.

“I couldn’t,” Angel sneers, looking out the window and propping his chin on his hand. Some things must be too close to the heart to tell someone to their face. “Mom got sick. I wanted to get out, I was so close. Graduated high school, packed my stuff. I was going to go to California. To Los Angeles, really make it big.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs, as if there’s something inherently funny about the dreams he must have cherished for so long.

“Then mom collapsed going down the stairs. Just passed out in the middle of the day. Doctors told us she was sick. Then life became all about treatment plans and monitoring symptoms and getting the money for the medicines and I never left. Got a job here when I was eighteen years old, right before I graduated high school. It’s all I’ve ever known, I guess.”

“And your mother?” Obi-Wan asks, mouth dry and heart all tangled up in itself for this stranger man, for Angel with the hard, sad eyes.

“Died a year and a half ago or so,” Angel says flatly like he’s repeated the words so often in his head that the truth digs no barbs into his flesh. Obi-Wan knows that voice is a lie. How often has he looked in the mirror this past week and told himself, ‘Qui-Gon Jinn is dead’? He can’t imagine a year and a half would make the pain go away.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says seriously, reaching across the table to touch Angel’s hand this time.

Angel shrugs but doesn’t pull away. “Is what it is, I guess,” he says. “I’ve made my peace with it. And the fact that I’ll never leave this godforsaken town.”

“You could,” Obi-Wan points out hesitantly. “You could leave tomorrow.”

For a second, a wild and previously undiscovered part of Obi-Wan wonders what it would be like, if Angel did leave tomorrow--with him. If they got into the same car and headed to Alaska together and Obi-Wan wasn’t alone at the wheel and Angel wasn’t alone in this town. If Obi-Wan could look over at the man in the passenger seat, asleep against the doorway as they crossed into Canada.

Obi-Wan wonders. Obi-Wan aches.

“I could,” Angel says, laughing once. “I guess I could. I guess I just can’t think of a good enough reason to.”

There’s a call of his name from the kitchen, and Angel stands and stretches, checking the time on his watch. “That’ll be your omelette, sir, which is perfect timing considering I’m off shift as of five minutes ago.”

“Thank you then,” Obi-Wan replies, ignoring the pang in his gut at the knowledge he won’t be able to keep talking to him. “It was nice meeting you, Angel.”

Angel’s face grows dark for a second as his jaw clenches. “That’s not my name,” he finally says, scratching at his neck with one hand. “That’s just what they called me when I started working here. Angel, like Los Angeles. Cause I told everyone for weeks this was a temporary thing, you know? I’d be going to California soon as mom got better. Guess they knew better than I did.”

Obi-Wan has never wanted to kidnap a grown man away from a place more, so he hides his hands under the table instead. “Would you tell me your name then?” he asks, wondering if he’s overstepping but needing to know too much to censor himself.

“It’s Anakin,” his waiter says, sticking his hand out, no menu to grab.

Obi-Wan takes it gently, turns it over, and cradles it between both of his hands. “Then it’s nice to meet you, Anakin.”

Maybe, he thinks as he picks at his omelette and watches Anakin shoulder his way through the front doors of the diner before disappearing down the street, maybe he can stay a day in this nowhere town. Just an extra day.

Yes, he thinks, taking a sip of his water. He’ll try the pancakes next.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

How do you think various Chris Evans character, and Mr. Evans himself, would react to having an S/O loving, and being good at baking?

This sounds like a All In One type of deal!! Here’s a couple of his characters who I think will enjoy their s/o’s baking.

Blurbs for: Chris Evans, Steve Rogers, Ransom Drysdale, Andy Barber, Colin Shea, Frank Adler, and Ari Levinson.  

Warnings: Language, Fluff

Chris Evans

Chris Evans may be a treat guy. He loves when you bake, especially making treats. You’ve made a lot of good pastries and he really loves your cookies or muffins. You’re a good cook, so Chris knows you are good with baking. Sometimes you’ve made a cake for his birthday and it wasn’t much but he loved it. It was simple and sweet.

He loves when he wakes up or walks in to the smell of cookies or cupcakes. In the morning, sometimes you make muffins. He loves those. And they’re always made out of love. You’d say Chris eats almost all of them in one day. You try out new recipes, do bread and brownies. Oh, how he loves your brownies. There are so many things you can make that Chris didn’t know exist and be in Heaven. He’s just glad to have you in the house to make him special.

And you love to see his reactions with your own treats.

.

Steve Rogers

What a perfect gif to use for an innocent little blurb of baking! 

Steve is always the one to offer to cook you dinner but you love baking for fun. Whether you had powers or not, you had the skill of putting the whole Avengers under a sugar rush and food coma. You can offer the villains some cookies and they’d say thank you and go to jail. Steve loves watching you bake in the kitchen, especially at night.

He sits at the island and watches you read off the instructions on your phone with your sleeves rolled up and flour all over your shirt. He’s sometimes your taste-tester too. He is always your security guard. It’s not safe when you got the team going for the batter-covered spoon and make a mess in the kitchen. Sometimes Wanda joins you and bakes with you. 

Steve loves the smell of your baking, he enjoys the cookies and brownies. He loves the chocolate peanut butter brownies like the rest of the team. Not going to lie, he loves to join in on the fun. He licks the batter off your finger or your cheek when the batter flies out of the mixture. And the rules are simple:

Steve gets to take the treat before anyone else.

.

Ransom Drysdale

Those cookies he stuffs in that big mouth of his isn’t the only treat he gets. Relax, I’m still on the topic of baking. I don’t know what you guys were thinking. Pfft! Anyway, Ransom seems like the sweet guy to eat cookies like the Biscoff’s. You bake cookies for the man and sometimes with his attitude he doesn’t get much. 

The man doesn’t like the mess in the kitchen but if your baking is good, he’s going to allow it. On the Holidays, you bake like crazy. Pumpkin and berry pies (Ransom’s favorites), any kind of cookies and muffins just make his days better but doesn’t calm his cocky attitude. Though he doesn’t show it much, he always loves when you bake. Baking in the kitchen with his sweater on and your hair up, he loves to watch you.

If he’s good one day, you give him one of your treats. Pumpkin spice always filled the air in Ransom’s home. You guessed Ransom loved the smell of pumpkin spice, especially in the beginning of fall. Muffins are his favorites, too. But if he’s good:

He deserves the treat. It’s not easy to get one of your pastries.

.

Andy Barber

Andy has hard times dealing with many cases at the courthouse and when he comes home, he’s welcomed with the smell of sweets. He enjoys whatever you make in that kitchen and when he enters he gives you a gentle kiss on the shoulder with his soft words greeting you. You were an amazing cook and on top of that is the baking. 

He loves when you make banana bread or cake bars like his number one favorite coffee cake. Jacob, his son, loves when you make sweets. Jacob is the troublemaker to get into a mess and he always gets the bowl with the leftover of batter. Most of the time, you come into Andy’s office and let him get a small taste of the batter and he loves when you do that. Even when he’s tired, you lift his spirits up.

There are certain rules when you come to baking, the boys leave you alone in the kitchen till you call them. You remembered the time Jacob spilled the whole flour over the counters and yourselves. Jacob never helped you ever again after that. You did teach him small things about baking, you baked him a cake once and he liked it. Jacob and Andy always light up when you bake in the home. Andy will always gets the first taste-test from the spoon. 

.

Colin Shea

Colin can be one eater. If he can make out with a sandwich, he will make out with your cupcakes. He’s always the one to run into your kitchen and steal whatever you baked. You basically yell at him because he doesn’t understand that they just came out of the oven. 

You’re cautious of having him around when baking. But he LOVES your baking. He won’t go to any other baking place but ask you to make him something good. He eats almost all of them and will shove them in his pockets. Unlike the rest, he loves when you make cinnamon rolls. He loves extra icing though. You always wonder where all that goes to when he still is in good shape when eating so much of your sweets. 

He will shove the cookie, brownie, whatever into his mouth with no problem. One bite and it’s gone. Like some dog trying to eat his quick before the other gets to it. He’s not like any other guy which makes you think he’s comfortable around you. To be happy and funny around you and your baking. You will never have him bake with you. Because then your whole kitchen is covered in flour and eggs.

.

Frank Adler

Your favorite boat soft boy, Frank. Being in a small home with his niece, it was not easy for them. But with you being there for them, it was a dream for the both of them. Baking had been a thing for you since you were little. You remembered baking with your mom and it became a thing for you. To make someone smile. 

Mary always asked if you were going to bake something and bring them some cookies. You always brought something new to them. Mary said the fruit tarts were her favorites. Frank always told you to stop baking because he knew it was “hard” work and you do bake in the middle of the night. But he had nothing to stop you with so he just let it happened and thanked you every time. Eventually when Mary stayed the night at Roberta, you and Frank hung out at your place and you baked some cookies. 

Who knew Frank loved cookies?

He always thought of you as a friend but you coming over everyday and night to hand baked goodies for him and Mary was something he won’t forget. He’d wake up to seeing your face and remembering it when he goes to sleep. He then realized you were something more to him. And that he loved you and your baking.

.

Ari Levinson

Last but not least, my husband, your husband, your sexy long-haired boy. Ari Levinson. Before Ari didn’t know how good were you with cooking and baking. Until he tried it. And boy was he shocked. He’s never found something to good and that he always wanted you to keep baking.

It wasn’t a normal thing you do. It was on the mission when you worked in the kitchen. You served sometimes and everyone on your team enjoyed what you made. They always asked why your treats were so familiar to their grandma’s baking and that just makes you laugh. 

Ari loves your baking and he knew you don’t do it much but he’s happy when you do bake. He always wondered how he ended up with someone with such good pastries. He would probably join you in your baking. So let’s hope he can handle not making a mess.

Official Taglist:

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Want a tag? Just ask!!

[wolfish-trickster]

Advent kisses

5/24

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1 353

Summary: Instead of chocolates, kisses are going to be recieved everyday until Christmas.

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @modestlyabsurd @winterfrostsarmy @spaceyempress @thefridgeismybestie

Loki wiped the single tear off his face. That movie of yours hit too close to home. A dark haired boy rejected and hated for his differences. Linked to snow. In love with a beautiful young lady. But unlike Edward, Loki was cuddled under a blanket with the girl of his dreams. Who was fast asleep.

He couldn't count how many times you 'aaawed' or giggled during the movie. Whenever Edward did something cute or clumsy. You were adorable.

After the credits he just sat there. With you leaning on his shoulder, heat radiating from your skin, warming him. The temptation to kiss you again was big. But that would mean no kiss tomorrow. You didn't know about these kisses being replacement for chocolates, of course. But still, Loki couldn't betray himself like this.

He slowly shifted your weight, pulled your upper half so you would fully sit on his lap with your head under Loki's chin. This felt good. He stayed like that for couple of minutes, enjoying your closeness. He then slipped his hand under your knees, the other one supporting your back. He carried you bridal style all the way to your room. Under invisible charm, just like the one you were under the whole day. 'To hell with Stark.'

He gently placed you in your bed and covered you with your blanket. He slightly caressed the side of your head and went to his own room.

-

"Come on, you'll feel better."

"What do you not understand on the word 'no'?!"

Loki has been awake for only half an hour and he was already arguing with someone. Today that someone was Sam.

"Just try it Loki. You're always grumpy in the morning, after a run you'll be relaxed and full of energy. Plus you need to move, i haven't seen you exercise in at least five days."

"It's saturday, I don't need to be full of energy. Besides, do you really think it's wise to go outside right before rain?"

"Sam, we're ready, we can go," came a voice behind Loki. It was Bucky and Steve. Those two are always together.

"Yeah right, before we go explain to Mr. Know-it-all he has to spend more time outside of library. And what makes you think it's going to rain? We watched forecast, they didn't mention any changes in weather. Or did you magically gain powers to see into the future of the clouds?" Sam mocked Loki a bit. As someone who grew up with a guy who made it rain everytime a girl dumped him Loki could say he has gained those abilities. But it's his duty as God of Mischief to make a little fun.

Loki put on his, as Sam called it, grumpy face. "No, I did not. I just know humans make mistakes, it's very likely they made one in a forecast too."

"You know what? You're not gonna ruin my good mood. Of we go Team Awesome Morning Runners!"

"Sam," Steve could only cringe through Sam's bubbly antics as the three of them went to elevators.

Loki thought a little bit. Sam was right about something: he hasn't gone to gym for at least a week. He didn't like to work out with potential audience. He has always exercised alone. To surprise everyone who thought 'no visible muscle=no strength'. Everyone was out of that area of the building. Tony was taking a nap after a long sleepless night, Thor dragged Natasha to jewelry store (he has no idea what tastes midgardian women have and needs an expert), Clint and Bruce went to buy Christmas presents, Vision and Wanda did god knows what (the trickster god certainly didn't want to know) and you haven't even got out of your bed yet.

Loki made you tea and some light breakfast and left it on a table with a paper with your name.

Loki trained long and hard. His whole body hurt, but he felt stronger. After a long hot shower he dressed in the softest sweater he could find and loose sweat pants. Not the most elegant, but comfortable nonetheless.

When he stepped into the kitchen to hydrate himself he saw you. You were cutting something. Probably a bread. You had your earphones blasting music to your ears. He heard you hum to yourself. He just stood there and watched you. He didn't want to scare you, so he just waited until you turned around and saw him yourself.

Just as you turned around you jumped upon seeing him. "God you scared me," you chuckled.

"Apologies. Might I ask what are you doing?"

You hung your earphones around your neck and held up your phone. "Natasha called. Her and Thor are coming back. Somehow Thor found out what scrambled eggs are and wants to try them. I didn't have other plans so I volunteered to make him some. It's been months since I've cooked something. Do you want some? I can make more if you'd like to."

Loki knew of those 'scrambled eggs' but has never tried them." Yes, it would be lovely if you made some more for me. Can I watch you making them?" he asked sheepishly. Just as he didn't like audience during training, you didn't have to like it during your cooking.

Your eyes light up. "Of course, you can even help, if you want to."

He moved from the corner he was previously leaning on and walked to your side.

He looked at all those ingredients: onion, eggs, bacon, salt, pepper, bread. "So how do we start?"

"It's easy. First we cut the onion to tiny cubes and let them roast on the pan for a while, then we add bacon and at the end some eggs. Then we just have to mix it and add a little salt and pepper to it. I know everyone does it differently, I do them like this. I hope both of you will like them."

'Of course I' ll like them, you're the one making them after all.' Loki thought.

You gave him a knife and huge chunk of bacon. You instructed him how big the pieces needed to be and started to peel the onion. Loki was finished in matter of seconds. Working with knife was like a second nature to him. He looked over at you. You were clumsily cutting onion, evident you haven't done it in a while. He caught your hand before you could make another slice. If you did you would've cut yourself.

You looked at him apologetically. "I guess I should cook more, otherwise I'll forget how to make tea one day," you laughed.

"Nonsense. It takes time and skill to cut precisly. You still have that skill, you just need to find it. Here, let me help you," he stepped behind you, adjusting your hand on the half of the onion. He wrapped his hand around yours, squezed it so you would hold the knife more firmly. He pressed his chest to your back and looked at that vegetable over your shoulder. He started to cut, slowly. "You need to bend your fingers on the onion, so you don't cut them," he breathed into your ear.

"Okay," you whispered. He cut the whole onion like this, just to be sure you didn't hurt yourself. Just as he wanted to let you go you opened your mouth. "Thank you for the breakfast, by the way."

Loki smiled, let your hands go and hugged you. "Any time my sweet," and kissed you on the back of your head. Your hair smelled like fruit. He hugged you a little more after he ended the kiss.

"Are we interrupting something?"

Loki never wanted to murder as much as now. However when he turned around he laughed. The team of awesome morning runners stood there, drenched. Loki didn't even notice when it started raining.

You were chuckling behind him."Bucky, go dry yourself, before you start to rust."

"Well ha ha, very funny Y/N."

"ARE THE EGGS DONE YET?"

"Hi Thor. And no, they're not. Sorry."

'And there goes my romantic day with Y/N....'

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

Diary of  A Star Crossed Lover

just a short series...well not really a series...but still a series!, that ive been working on! there are a few series i’’ve had to put on hold as im just not feeling them right now, and i only want to put my best out for you to read! hope you enjoy this series as much as i have enjoyed writing it!

Pairing: Liam x Riley, Liam x MC

Summary: Liam dives into riley most inner thoughts and dreams...

Word Count: 1,822

Masterlist

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance!

Tags aren’t working so I will be tagging in the comments. Ive tried to tag everyone, please don’t hesitate to msg and let me know if i forgot to tag you! 

It had been a long day for the Queen in waiting, she had nothing but classes, meetings, anything and everything that could possibly prepare her for being Queen of Cordonia. 

Riley was just getting out of the shower when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. Riley wrapped her dressing gown around her then made her way to the door. When she opened the door she was met with Liam's face.

“Liam! Hi” she grinned

“Hi” he blushed realising she was stood in only her dressing gown. “I can go if I’m disturbing you”

“oh be quiet, come in” she smiled as she stepped aside to let him past, shutting the door behind him “Just give me a few minutes” she smiled as she made her way into her bathroom, shutting the door over after her.

Liam looked around at her things scattered across the room, chuckling to himself, this was Riley's room, he most definitely wasn’t surprised at the mess of things.

It was just about a week since Liam had proposed to Riley in new York, since then they had been inseparable.

As Liam went to sit down, he felt something underneath him causing him to move over, he looked over to see a green notebook. He lifted it up and opened the front cover, seeing Riley's name he realised it was some kind of diary…he quickly closed it over again not wanting to intrude on her privacy. It was just then that Riley walked out of the bathroom in some lounge pants and a vest top. She seen Liam just as he was putting the diary back down. Liam knew she had seen him so he mentioned it before she could bring it up.

“I’m sorry…I promise I didn’t read anything, as soon as I seen it was a diary I put it down.”

“it’s alright, I mean, you can read it if you want” she stated as she pulled her hairbrush through her short blonde hair “that’s the diary I kept during the social season and through your engagement to madeleine” she added as she made her way over to him. “so I can guarantee there’s some juicy pages about you” she winked with a grin as she leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips. “you’re going to be my husband; I don’t have anything to hide from you”

“Juicy pages about me you say?” he smirked as he cupped her cheeks in his hands.

“just a few” she giggled before giving him a kiss.“are you staying here tonight?” she asked hopeful that she wasn’t going to have to sleep alone again, she made her way over to her dresser where she started applying her moisturiser.

“I shouldn’t…I can get into a lot of trouble” he whispered as he stood from the sofa and made his way over to her, placing his hands on her waist and pressing his lips to her shoulder.

“that wasn’t a no” she laughed “I understand why, I just…we’re getting married, Liam, we’ve already slept together, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives sleeping together”

“I know…im dying for you to move into my quarters with me…”

“then whats stopping us?”

“the court”

“the court can kiss my ass! You’re the King of Cordonia, you can literally take a man’s life and not get into trouble…but moving in with your fiancé…your soon to be wife is so bad!”

“I know, it’s ridiculous!”

“then do something about it” she smirked as she turned into his hold. “so I’ll ask again…are you staying with me tonight…all night?”

Liam grinned as he looked down at Riley, “yeah…ill stay with you…all night…I promise”

“good, because it’s pretty cold tonight so I’m going to need my human radiator”

“then I am at your service!” he smirked as he crouched and wrapped his arms around her legs and lifted her over his shoulder

“Liam!!” Riley laughed as he made his way over to the bedroom, he dropped her onto the bed with a chuckle .

“I take it, it’s bedtime then?” she smirked

“yes, but we won’t be doing much sleeping” Liam informed with a smirk as he threw himself down beside her. The two spent the remainder of the night entangled in each other.

It was early hours of the morning Liam had awoken and couldn’t get back to sleep. He sighed as he turned onto his side, Riley's diary caught the corner of his eye. He stretched as he sat himself up then lifted the leather book. He put his reading glasses on then opened it.

 June 12th

Dear Diary…

Some days are easy some days are tough. Today was one of those tough days…For years I have suffered from anxiety…questioning every little thing I say or do, or things that other people say and do to me. I awoke this morning and I felt so mentally drained, I didn’t want to get out of bed, I didn’t want to eat, I didn’t want to do anything. I couldn’t do anything.

What I find strange…what annoys me the most, is I know I shouldn’t dwell on things that have happened, I know I shouldn’t dwell on the past, I cant change anything so why let it get me down…but that feeling of anxiousness, dread and fear just takes over not just your head but your whole body, you feel so tired and drained, you feel awful, but there’s nothing you can do to change it, just end up falling into a deeper hole, the more you think about it. I just want to have one full day where I don’t feel like shit, 24 hours where I can just be happy and not overthink EVERYTHING! …Maybe one day.

Love you Muchly, Riley

Liam's heart sank as he read about Riley's struggles. Liam looked over at his wife, he gently tucked a fallen piece of hair behind her ear as she slept. “I love you” he whispered. He flipped the page over then grinned when he seen the date

June 13th

Dear Diary

I met the most AMAZING man! Liam…His name was Liam. The second I seen him, I felt like my heart stopped…how can you feel that way about a total stranger…then he spoke and I nearly fell right into his arms, I could barely talk! It honestly felt like I was talking to someone I had known for years. After my shift, Liam asked if I could show them wheres good to go in town, instead I took them to the cove on the beach, it was amazing, Drake was building fires, Maxwell was running rampant, and Liam and I got the spend some more time together. conversation with him was so easy, when he told me he wanted to see the statue of liberty before he left for Cordonia, oh did I forget to mention…hes a king…A KING!, I couldn’t pass up the chance to fulfil a dream! Especially one of Liam's! we kissed…Liam and I Kissed…sparks everywhere, it was like electricity flowed through us it was crazy…my heart was pounding in my chest, I’m surprised he didn’t hear it! it was the most amazing Kiss ive ever had!...but now…he’s gone…gone to get married…and whoever it is that gets the privilege of being his wife…well she’s the luckiest woman in the world and she better cherish him because he’s a damn good egg!

Love you Muchly, Riley x

Liam's cheeks had flustered, reading Riley's first thoughts about him.

“Liam?” Riley questioned as she turned over realising he wasn’t sleeping.

“I’m here sweetheart, go back to sleep”

“what are you doing up?”

“I woke and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I’m doing a little light reading” he grinned, Riley shuffled closer to her, pulling the duvet over her a little more.

“did you start from the beginning?” she asked as she sat up and lifted his arm, ducking her head under it to cuddle into him.

“of course” he replied as he held her a little tighter

“it was like electricity flowed through us, it was crazy…my heart was pounding in my chest, I’m surprised he didn’t hear it! It was the most amazing kiss I’ve ever had”

Riley blushed as she buried her face into his chest.

“I didn’t need to hear it…I felt it” he grinned as he lifted her hand in his and placed it over his heart.

“and I want you to know, that if you ever feel anxious, or like your having a bad day, I want you to tell me…I want you to confide in me, because I will ALWAYS be here for you no matter what, if I have to drop a meeting at last minute…I will, if I have to cancel an outing to help you…I will, being queen is going to be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, it may not seem like it from all the pleasantries, but I can tell you right now, it’s the most stressful job to have bestowed upon you, you will need someone to confide in, and I am more than happy to be that someone, whether it be country related or just in our personal lives, I will be here for you no matter what. I love you Riley, I have from the minute I met you” he whispered

“I love you so much” she replied in the same tone.

Liam closed the diary over and placed it back on the side table, then he scooted back down to lay down properly as Riley done the same. The two cuddled together as they fell back to sleep.

 The next morning Riley groaned as she turned over pulling the duvet around her to keep her warm, as she went to cuddled into Liam, she was met with an empty bed, she frowned as her eyes flickered open and seen Liam was gone. Riley sighed as she climbed from the bed, pulling her robe on along with her slippers, then she made her way towards the bathroom, picking up everything she needed for her morning shower on the way. Riley walked in, shutting the door behind her, she removed her slippers then her robe as she turned around, she squealed seeing a very naked Liam in the shower smirking.

“JESUS! FOR GODSAKES LIAM I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU! YOU’RE LUCKY I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING IN MY HANDS TO HIT YOU WITH!”

Liam laughed as he poked his head out. “it was too funny! Your face has literally made my day! will you come join me?” he reached his hand out to her.

Riley agreed as she took his hand and stepped into the shower.

“you’re an asshole! I thought you left me in the middle of the night”

“I told you I wouldn’t leave, I promised!” he laughed as Riley stood under the falling water.

“I know, and I believed you, but then I woke up to an empty bed and I thought you left.” She frowned as she wrapped her arms around his chest.

“hey…” Liam whispered “have I ever broke my promises to you?”

“no”

“then you have no reason to doubt me” he smiled as he leaned down to place a kiss on her head.

[shyvioletcat]

“Yeah, that’s funny. For a second there I thought that you actually cared.” for the firefighter au!!!

It’s been a hot minute since I updated. Had a busy week where I had to do stuff unfortunately. But get ready HoF fans.

Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin woke up with her head resting on something warm and solid. Her eyes felt gritty and she felt like she wanted to sleep for hours more. When she had nightmares about Sam she always felt like this.

Looking up, Aelin expected to see Rowan still fast asleep. Instead he was scrolling through his phone, his other arm draped around her still. He must have seen her look at him because he put down his phone and looked at her.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hi,” Aelin said back. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Indeed, neither of them had moved yet. But Rowan shrugged.

“It’s a bit chilly, has been most of the night. Thought I might stay here and leech your warmth,” he said.

Aelin let out a short breathy laugh. “Yeah that’s funny. For a second I thought that you actually cared or something.”

“Nope definitely stayed purely out of comfort,” Rowan said.

Aelin pinched his side, he pinched hers right back.

“That’s a bit playful. You drunk again?”

Aelin yelped as Rowan jerked his shoulder and she went rolling off him. She landed in her stomach and looked over at Rowan. He was smiling, a soft smile that him look younger.

Aelin couldn’t help but smile back. But then her smile faded as memories of the previous night flooded her mind. As her face faltered Aelin saw the question in Rowan’s eyes.

“I can’t,” Aelin said quietly.

“I understand,” Rowan said quietly then reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Then Rowan was gone.

~~~~~

Aelin didn’t leave the apartment at all. She spent the day on the couch in leggings and a soft jumper not doing much of anything. The TV played in the background but Aelin barely registered it. There was a great sinking hole in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

A few nights ago when she’d said to Rowan that she slept better with him beside her she hadn’t been lying. She was joking with him, yes. But it wasn’t a lie. His presence had chased away her nightmares and her restless nights. It seemed in that one night absence they returned with a vengeance.

There was a knock on the door an Aelin startled. She checked her phone, it was already 6 o’clock. She wasn’t expecting anyone so she rose from the couch to see who it was.

She didn’t expect to see Rowan Whitethorn on the other side of the door, a bag of takeaway in his hand.

~~~~~

Aelin looked miserable. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair wasn’t done, and her face wore an expression of deep sadness, the kind that left a heart aching.

“I thought maybe you’d like something to eat. Chinese alright?” Rowan asked.

Aelin cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, like she was trying to puzzle something out.

“Chinese sounds great,” Aelin said and she moved to let him by.

Rowan took the food to the kitchen, the only places to eat were the kitchen bench or around the small table in front of the TV. Aelin followed him and pulled out plates and cutlery while he started pulling out the containers of food. 

“I didn’t know what you liked so I got a few things,” Rowan said pulling the lids off the containers, filling the room with various delicious aromas.

“Thank you. I’m actually starving, I think I’ve only eaten a couple of slices of bread today,” Aelin said and she spooned some rice onto her plate, then moved onto the honey chicken. 

Rowan glanced at her as he started to load up his own plate. She didn’t say it to make him feel sorry for her, it was just a fact, he could tell by the tone in her voice she wasn’t looking for sympathy. 

That was fine with Rowan, he’d give her company instead.

~~~~~

Aelin ate way more than she expected to. 

If Rowan hadn’t turned up with dinner she probably would have just made some toast and maybe an apple. Aelin was even more grateful for his company. They ended up eating in front of the TV. He didn’t ask the looming question, he just asked her about work, the kids she taught, where she went to school. All easy topics she didn’t have to think about. Once dinner was done they watched some TV, sitting in companionable silence. Before she knew it a few hours had passed and she was yawning.

“I’m going to go to bed,” Aelin announced.

“Alright, I’ll go get my stuff then come back over.”

Rowan got up and left, and Aelin went to change for bed. Tonight she just slipped on old oversized tshirt and shorts to sleep in and slipped beneath her blankets. It wasn’t long before she heard Rowan come back into the apartment.

Aelin was laying on her stomach and watched as Rowan lay down on top of her cover and once again threw his blanket over him. They way he moved, the way he’d been acting, it was like he was treading on egg shells.

“I don’t want your pity,” Aelin said quietly.

Rowan turned his head to look at her. “I’m not pitying you.”

“Then stop acting like this,” Aelin said a little harder than she meant to. 

But Rowan didn’t bite back like she expected him to. He just said, “It’s just being considerate Aelin. I can tell you’re hurting, I’m not going to push you to tell me why, but I am going to be nice to you.”

Aelin felt tears starting to well in her eyes. “Don’t be nice to me.”

Rowan just chuckled, not unkindly, and turned off the bedside lamp next to him. “Goodnight, Aelin.”

Aelin didn’t say anything back, she just lay there is the dark. She didn’t know what made her say it but she whispered, “His name was Sam. We had known each other for years, hated each other for most of them, then somewhere along the way we changed. He was my first love. We were on our way to dinner, Sam was driving and a drunk driver ran a red light. I was awake for a little bit, I saw him, he was a mess, then I lost consciousness. The accident was so bad I was out for days afterwards. When I woke up, my mother told me,” Aelin swallowed hard against the tightness building in her throat. Rowan reached for the hand that lay beside her and holding it in his, laid it over his heart. Aelin could feel his heart beating, the steady rhythm steadying her. “My mother told me he had... They did everything they could, the surgeons. But Sam was gone. In his jacket pocket they found a ring.”

Aelin felt Rowan suck in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered. 

Aelin couldn’t say anything more, she was spent. So instead she just closed her eyes and willed sleep to take her. When it eventually did her sleep was thankfully dreamless.

When Aelin woke up hours later Rowan still help her hand right over his heart.

~~~~~

Tags:  @tangledraysofsunshine // @nalgenewhore // @highqueenofelfhame // @galyxsy // @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @http-itsrebecca // @highladyofthesith // @aelinfire-bringer // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @sleep-and-books // @3am-reading // @average-girl-at-best // @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius // @rowaelinforeverworld // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @tswaney17 // @mydarlingfireheart // @rowansfirebringer // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @vanilla28 // @fireheart-of-your-dreams // @enquires-state-building // @im-not-rare-im-rarr // @your-high-lady // @mariamuses // @ttakeitbacknoww // @queenofxhearts // @vi0let-femmes // @kindofawalkingpoem // @sleeping-and-books // @armixers-unite // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @princess-galathynius // @heroesofterrasen // @ladyofstoriesandmusic // @unassumingsodalovesherbooks // @empire-of-wildfire // @brittneym15 // @camerooonchiu // @worldoffae // @mybbyfeyre // @crackedship //  @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows //  @thesirenwashere // @pilesofriles

[theonceoverthinker]

A Tumultuous Embrace (1/5) (Golden Hook)

Summary: Captain Hook and Rumplestiltskin have wronged many a man in their days as villains, so many in fact that they’ve unknowingly overlapped on more than one occasion. What are they going to do when two of those cases want revenge and know exactly how to best take it? Now trapped together in a beyond compromising position, will Killian and Rumple be able to work together to fight against impossible odds and get home, or will their lingering hatred of each other prove to be their shared doom as they literally go down together?

AO3       Fanfiction.net

Dynamics Featured for this Chapter: Golden Hook (mentioned), Rumbelle (mentioned), Captain Swan (mentioned), Swan Beauty (mentioned)

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Assault 

A/N: This was supposed to be whump. It started from a freakin’ whump prompt! And don’t get me wrong -- the first two and a half chapters are a decently whumpy, but afterwards...well, you’ll see. But for now, enjoy this chapter of pure, slow burn whump (Yeah, I’m coining that term)!

Tagging @sherlockianwhovian, @black-wolf066, and @killian-whump! If you do (Or don’t, I promise I won’t be offended) want to be tagged in upcoming chapters of this fic, please let me know!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

CHAPTER 1: A TUMULTUOUS BEGINNING

Nine times out of ten, the sound of the bell above Rumple’s shop ringing would have Rumple at the ready beside his shop’s front counter in a matter of seconds. Given how quiet his shop often was -- especially these days -- the noise it made tended to linger in the air for at least a couple of seconds after sounding off. At the very most, it would give him business, and at the very least, the company would serve to make his day more exciting and give him something to tell Belle about over dinner in between bouts of reacting to the literature leanings of Storybrooke’s citizens.

Yes, nine times out of ten, Rumple had every reason to see what goings on had just entered his vicinity and acted on it.

Today, unfortunately for him, was that all too rare tenth time. 

And even after the immediacy of the ring, Rumple was in no hurry to so much as pick his head up, let alone actually go to the front of his shop.

But what put Rumple in a state like that?

Well, as with everyone else in the world -- no matter the realm -- some days were simply better than others. For Rumple, today was just about as bad as it could get for him and he hadn’t the energy to deal with anything else aside from the immediacy of his body’s needs. 

And right now, that need was for rest was the most pressing, leaving him unable to do anything in the face of such an urgent instinct but relent.

The reason behind Rumple’s exhaustion, apathy, and moodiness came down to two matters.

First, Gideon, now deep in his teething phase, had several of his now quite common bursts of crying fits last night. Despite the ample supply of teething toys Rumple and Belle had on hand to satiate their son’s needs, few sustained Gideon for more than a few minutes at the most. 

He must’ve gotten his fickleness from his father. 

Knowing Belle had spent the previous night caring for Gideon at the cost of any energy she may have had the following day, Rumple took it upon himself to give her a well-deserved night’s rest. The results did wonders for his wife’s sleep schedule, but horrors for his. He thanked his stars his job was almost defined by how slow business often was because today, Rumple barely found himself able to do anything more than sit in his shop’s backroom and try not to crumple or tarnish any goods under a head that spent more time supported by a table than supported by his neck. Already, he had taken two unintended naps, though neither did anything to help him recover from last night’s trials.

But that first reason was a side effect of a decision that Rumple made of his own volition and truly, he knew that he had no one to blame but himself for it. 

The second reason -- the one that made him not only apathetic to the ringing of his shop’s bell, but downright grouchy  -- was decidedly not. 

This morning, as Rumple struggled to keep his head from falling into a plate of eggs and toast, his lovely Belle announced that later this week, their family would be dining at the Swan house. Rumple was too tired to bother holding in his subsequent groan. That groan resulted in a low-key argument between he and Belle that was decidedly not resolved by the time they parted ways for the day and Rumple had a strong feeling that an end to that argument would be no more in sight when he came home than when he left.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t stand anything about that family -- far from it. Things had been complicated between he and Emma in the past, but nowadays, he got along well enough with her. And Henry was his grandson and someone he’d wished to further connect to for a long time now. Finally, he had been offered something of a chance and in some ways, that felt like a second chance connecting with Bae. 

Yes, an evening with Emma and Henry sounded nice. For them, Rumple found no issue in doing his best to not just get along, but thrive in a deeper relationship.

However, neither of them were the problem.

Instead, it was the third member of that household that was causing him enough grief to challenge his wife.

Rumple considered himself lucky. Following the breaking of his mother’s curse, much of the bad blood shared between all manner of people in Storybrooke was forgotten. Facing the possibility of certain death tended to have that effect on people.

And few benefitted from that olive branch more than he did. His trips through town no longer made the levity surrounding his fellow townspeople wilt like a rose during winter. Hell, sometimes, he even had a friendly exchange where he and another would talk about their wives or children while waiting in line for groceries or during trips to the library. Rumple never expected to like that as much as he did, but Storybrooke had really started to feel like home for reasons more than just Belle and Gideon’s presences.

Time had a funny way of doing that.

That said, there were some slates that weren’t as easy to clean as others and one of those was the shared animosity between himself and Captain Hook.

Dealing with Hook wasn’t especially hard, but he wouldn’t call it especially easy either. Rumple had accepted Hook as a part of his existence and they silently agreed to a truce. Their paths crossed few and far between enough that there was no cause to stew in their mutual animosity. They just came and went as they wished and that was that.

It didn’t mean that either of them had to like it, and no, neither of them liked it at all, but given the circumstances, their situation was about as good as they could ask for -- awkward, but not miserable. 

Rumple only hoped things would’ve stayed that way.

But then Emma had to go and befriend Belle, and with that friendship, force their two hostile husbands together. 

Why couldn’t the two of them just leave well enough alone?

So yeah, Rumple found himself in the emotional crossfires of exhausted and cranky today and thinking about his reasons for either only served to make the emotions ever more intense.

Who knew the phrase ‘like father, like son’ also worked in reverse?

Like his baby boy, he was just tired.

So when the bell went off in his shop, Rumple honestly wasn’t sure if that’s even what it was and thus didn’t bother getting up from the comfort and privacy of the back room to go investigate. 

In fact, in quite the opposite move, he started to fall back asleep.

Rumple told himself it wouldn’t be an issue. He had magic set up to alert him if anything was stolen, and beyond that, short of another crisis, he didn’t care about the odd customer or two and their burdensome wants. So what if he ignored them? The worst that could happen would be him pissing off a customer, but then again...who in this town HADN’T he pissed off at this point? One more wouldn’t make a difference.

By the time the subsequent footsteps had entered the back room, Rumple barely resonated them. What fight his brain was putting up against the pull of sleep was losing fast and dissolving quicker by the second.

When that little bit of fight in him gave in, he finally allowed himself to drift off.

That decision turned out to be all that was needed for his guests to take what -- or rather who -- they wanted.

And only hours later would Rumple feel the resulting pain from the baseball bat that soon after his departure to the realm of dreams, would harshly make contact with his head.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Killian Jones, whether thanks to his naval training or simply the demands of being a captain, could be quite the creature of habit when he wanted to be. 

After over two hundred years of surprises, from the daily adventures of his life of piracy to the endless twists and turns of Neverland to the magic and monsters that made up so much of Killian’s life after meeting Emma, there was something that could be said about the comfort of a routine. Routines allowed for a relative sense of calm in one’s life. They were a chance to let the brain rest a bit, something all too necessary for life in the near constant state of excitement Storybrooke offered.

And that sentiment it what brought Killian to the docks this evening. It was a nice detour on his stroll home from work as well as quiet and barren from crowds around the end of his shift, so he made visiting the seaside spot a regular part of his week. The calm of the ocean as it laid beside him on a calm night allowed him to release the tension from the day.

It also made for quite the stress reliever. 

When Emma and Belle first started hanging out after a trip to the library on Emma’s part that went exceptionally well, Killian was thrilled. Heaven knew they both deserved more friends, especially ones that were a touch more removed from their respective parts of the family, and of everyone they could’ve chosen as a friend, they did a damn good job of it. So Killian encouraged Emma to spend as much time as she wanted with Belle so that they could enjoy what the other could provide for companionship.

But then they had to start involving both himself and his bloody crocodile, and that’s where Killian support found itself waning.

If there was ever anything truly difficult to deal with in Storybrooke these days, it was the idea of letting Rumplestiltskin come and go as he pleased. While many a sin had been forgiven all throughout the town and their very extended family, Killian didn’t care to extend that as much with Rumple as he had with others. It wasn't a war between the two of them by any means -- they had silently settled on something of a cease fire for the sake of their families and the well being of the town they shared, but as for anything beyond that, Killian refused. There was simply too much baggage accumulated over the years to even consider bothering with any niceties beyond his barest efforts. 

And Killian held no doubts in his mind that Rumple felt the same way about him. Even with their truce, their encounters were no less awkward. For the most part, thankfully, they’d been kept to a minimum.

However, now that was about to change.

Later on this week -- in four days to be precise -- they’d all be dining together, putting Rumple and Killian far closer together than he and he expected Rumple ever would’ve wanted to be and for far longer than it couldn be reasonably expected for a spat to not break out.

Killian didn’t need to tell Emma of his dislike of the event -- he was certain that his face had done that well enough by Emma’s assurance that it wouldn’t be too bad. With all due respect to his wife -- he begged to differ.

He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Rumple was trying to weasel his way out of it -- because he was honestly trying to as well… 

How weird was it to want his crocodile to succeed for once?

Quite weird, and that’s why he was he needed a level of stress relief. 

The sea was one of the few constants in Killian’s life -- perhaps that’s part of why he found it so calming to gaze at. Even during the evening when it resembled tar more than water, it was still beautiful. 

Killian stared at the abyss of ocean that stretched into the practically invisible horizon. It had warded off a nice portion his disdain for the dinner, though there was still a good deal of it left.

He had done a good job being a better man. It was okay to have limits as to how good he could be. Killian knew that and he knew that Emma knew that. So he didn’t feel particularly unjustified in not wanting to have to entertain his enemy for an entire evening, especially when he also knew that one evening would inevitably lead to another and another. He wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Rumple. Would Emma and Belle’s friendship end up subjecting the both of them to a lifetime’s worth of discomfort?

It was awful to think that. Killian didn’t WANT to think that.

But he did.

What would he do? He presently hadn’t a clue, but he didn’t think he could just leave it at that. If simply coexisting with Rumplestiltskin proved to be the occasional pain, he couldn’t imagine how awful it would be seeing him on an even more regular basis.

Killian could only imagine how awful that would be -- sharing his home, table, and even more of his time with Rumple than he’d already wasted without Rumplestiltskin being present. And after everything that he’d been put through at Rumple’s hands since he first arrived in Storybrooke, that all only felt worse.

No, he’d have to talk with Emma. He wouldn’t do it. She’ll understand -- she always understands him. At the very least, maybe he’ll grant himself a stay of execution until the moment Emma and Belle’s friendship makes contact between himself and his crocodile completely unavoidable.

A shudder overcame Killian. Just how terrible would that moment be when it was finally here?

Killian didn’t want to know.

The calm of the sea seemed to be failing at its job. Now, he felt more stressed than ever. 

Maybe it was time to go back home.

Not even one step away from his location was he when suddenly, he heard a cracking sound.

Before Killian could even turn his head to investigate, the answer made itself known -- someone had broken the street lamp he was standing under, shrouding his vision in darkness. It was a good thousand feet to the next street lamp in either direction, and Killian could only see the twinkle of the lights beaconing in the distances.

Killian reached for his cellphone to call Emma, but just as his hand was started its motion towards his pocket, the arm attached to it was grabbed and twisted.

He tried to shout, but was stopped by a punch to his jawline. 

Stumbling back, Killian tried to regain his balance, but was quickly grabbed again.

A gloved hand pushed itself against his mouth and a torso did the same to the back of his head. Killian shouted louder, but little escaped. He bit the hand in front of him, but it remained roughly pressed against him. Between the hand and the torso, it felt like his head was in danger of being smashed. 

His eyes peered up to get a look at his assailant.

Or should he say, assailants.

If Killian could describe them in one word, that word would be crooked. 

Crooked noses sat above crooked smiles that only gave hints at what were likely crooked motivations.

Killian had dealt with these two men before.

Never did he expect anything to come of their encounter. 

But that was the thing about Storybrooke -- problems of the past had their way of coming back and biting them in the ass.

And now, Horace and Jasper were back in his life, with far too much of an advantage for Killian’s liking.

Hopefully, Killian had the power to do something about that.

He swiped his hook at Horace, but Horace caught it mid-swing.

“I think we can get rid of this. Give that wife of yours something to find when she goes looking for you. What do you think about that?”

As Horace pulled the brace connecting his hook to his body off, Killian’s only response came in the form of a steely glare.

“There, that’s better. Jasper,” Horace said, looking just above Killian’s head at his other kidnapper. “Keep your grip on him. I’ll have him out in a bit.”

Jasper, who was still holding Killian’s mouth and head hostage snickered. 

“You got it, Horace.”

Killian felt his nostrils flare up with rage as they pulled at whatever air they could to continue living.

Given his ability to survive all manner of environments, they were damn experts at that by now.

But while breathing helped Killian hold on, it did little to help him escape.

With few other solutions, Killian began giving into whatever base instincts -- however limited -- that he had, which in his state, only amounted to convulsing his body in every direction he could.

Still, it did no good, and his position was only made worse with a swift kick against the back of his shins that brought him to his knees.

Even as Killian fell, Jasper’s hold remained as firm as it had been the entire time.

Though Killian’s will to fight had not lessened at all, something deep within told him that he wasn’t getting out of this -- not by a long shot and definitely not by himself.

The last thing Killian saw before blacking out was a wooden baseball bat slamming into his head.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Transporting bodies, if one knows what they’re doing, isn’t hard, and Horace and Jasper knew damn well what they were doing. Neither was a stranger to heists and with a decently sized truck at their disposal thanks to their cursed professions, some careful timing, and a bit of luck, it was almost too easy.

And now, Rumplestiltskin and Captain Hook were theirs to do with as they deemed fit -- and oh did they have a plan for what they deemed fit.

“Get them both settled here, Jasper,” Horace ordered. “Come on, hurry up. We want to get them taken care of before they wake up.”

“IF they wake up, that is,” Jasper shot back, chuckling. “You really did a number on them with those clonks on the head, Horace.”

Horace dismissed him with a casual wave of his hand. “Don’t worry, Jasper. They’ll wake up, alright…After all they put us through, they don’t deserve to get off so easily, and we’re not done with them just yet by a bloody sight. Now start tying them up.”

Jasper seemed a bit put off by the fact that he was going to have to do the hard part of the work this time around, but Horace wasn’t about to allow himself be guilted otherwise. Whether he liked it or not, Jasper was likely the most talented knot tier in history and Horace didn't want to chance even the possibility of a premature escape. 

No, Jasper would ensure that their prisoners would suffer their fates side-by-side and helpless, just as they had to do all those years ago.

“How do you want me to arrange them?”

Horace thought about it for a second before a thought struck him.

The Dark One and Captain Hook had screwed up their lives while in pursuit of revenge on each other.

A side-by-side torture was too good for them.

Why not instead put them as they always were: At each other’s throats?

Yeah, Horace liked that idea quite a lot.

“Let’s make them face each other,” Horace instructed. “Put Hook under The Dark One’s pits. That way, the shorty won’t be able to get his arms past his head. And then stick his arms under Hook’s.” It would no doubt be hard to get them like that, particularly that last step, but if it worked the way Horace envisioned it, their last moments on this Earth would be truly hellish.

Jasper smirked. “Good thinking, Horace. One problem though: Hook’s only got one hand. Aren’t you worried he’ll slip out?”

Horace hummed as he considered the problem Jasper presented him with. How indeed COULD he keep Hook in place? Normal binds wouldn’t work when one could just slip their arm out of them.

No, he needed something that would stick.

Horace considered his own body. He balled his left fist and looked up and down his arm. With his right hand, he formed a circle and slowly traced over the outer layer of his arm, looking for a point where he was sure a bond couldn’t slip out. When he arrived at his elbow, he fastned the circle and made a move in the other direction.

Upon seeing that it couldn’t move, he practically beamed.

“Bind his right hand to his left elbow.”

Jasper grinned at him.

“That’ll keep them awfully close,” he said, clearly unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“That’s the plan.” Jasper got to work, arranging them as Horace ordered at a quick pace, especially for him.

He supposed, as was the case for his captives, a lust for vengeance could do that to someone.

“That’s it, get them nice and tight.”

When Jasper was done, Horace tested the strength of the binding. Pleased as the strength and layers of the knots, he offered his friend a satisfied nod. 

“So what do we do now?” Jasper asked.

“Now?” Horace repeated. “Now, we just sit back and ready ourselves for some sweet revenge.”

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 20

Chapter 20: I Know You Get Me

Mera, Morning, 8:34 AM

           I hummed as I worked over the stove, three skillets going all at the same time. Bacon sizzled on the back burner as it slowly curled up, went crisp. Eggs over easy fried toward perfection just in front of me. To my left, French toast browned. The aroma of breakfast filled the kitchen, wafted out over the pool through the open door, mixed with the unique scent of a desert morning.

           We’d been in the Vegas house for just a few days. The essentials had been done, but there were still a few details that I wanted to work on. Of course, we had to catch a flight first thing the next morning to get to the Raw show. On our last day of peace before we had to get back on the road, I wanted to have a little slice of normalcy. Of a traditional marriage.

           Dean was a night owl, probably because of the schedule they had of performing and then driving half the night to get to the next city. He had still been awake when I’d gone to bed around midnight, and I had no memory of when he came to bed. All I knew was that I woke up wrapped in his arms.

           I felt the smile slip onto my face as I realized that could be the rest of my life. If I wanted it, I could wake up with him each and every morning. We could travel the country side-by-side… just like I had with Seth all those years. Only this time, the person beside me actually wanted me there.

           Happiness settled into my bones as I made sure that everything hit the plate hot. It took a moment to find the syrup in the pantry, so I put it on my to do list to organize it to my liking. Dean didn’t seem like much of a cook.

 Dean, Morning, 8:40 AM

           It was surprising as hell when my body woke me up before ten. I’d hit the bed around three and passed out pretty quick. Going to bed early wasn’t my thing, even when I wasn’t on the road.

           My heart skipped a beat when I thought back to when I came to bed last night. Mera was curled up in a ball on what she had claimed as her side of the bed, one hand tucked up beneath her pillow. I moved as quietly as I could to get in to bed, doing my best to not disturb her too much. By the time I’d settled in on my back, she’d turned over, nestled into my side. I fell asleep wrapped in the warmth of her body and the scent of her black cherry shampoo.

           I rolled out of bed, yawning and stretching. There was a moment of a sort of vertigo—a sudden realization that Mera’s things were spread throughout the house, that it was real, she was my wife, and this was our home. I touched my wedding band, letting myself slip back into memories of that night beneath the desert sky when we threw caution to the wind and did something wonderfully stupid and rash.

           The scent of bacon hit me as I came down the stairs. I couldn’t help but grin when I thought of Mera making breakfast in our house. Crying was another option, but I was trying hard to keep my shit together. Getting weepy every time I thought about her and the future wasn’t attractive—and it certainly wasn’t my normal MO.

           I caught sight of her and stopped dead in my tracks. Her hair was drawn back in a messy ponytail, those golden light waves trailing down her back. Sun streamed in through the glass doors and cast a halo of softness all around her. She danced around to some music in her head, her hips swaying side-to-side slowly as she loaded up two plates with food. As beautiful as the entire sight was, it only got better when my brain recognized the shirt she wore.

           It was one of mine, the Ice Bear shirt I’d worn that first day at her place in Florida.

           “Mmm,” I hummed, letting her know I was there. “You’re gonna spoil me, darlin’.”

           She turned toward me, a smile on her face that made her eyes burn bright. A faint blush ran along her cheekbones. I crossed the room and slipped my arms around her waist, palms settling on the curve of her ass. She reached up, locked her fingers behind my neck. With a little giggle, she jumped, wrapping her legs around my waist. My hold shifted, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.

           “Good morning, sweet husband,” she murmured, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of my neck.

           There was no looking away from her. Just as I had that very first night, I got caught up, lost in the amber of her eyes. It sent a jolt through my body, a shot of electricity that burned from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, energy that infused every cell of my body. An ounce of that feeling was better than the best shot of whisky, produced a sensation more addicting than any drug. She held my world—my heart, my soul, my happiness—in the palm of her hand, a goddess of beauty that held every part of me in thrall.

           “Good morning, my sweet wife,” I returned. My voice sounded strange to my own ears. It was deep, guttural in a way that seemed to resonate from that primal sense that had taken root in my chest. Each time I looked at Mera, that instinct purred in contentment. When I called her my wife, it rumbled with acknowledgement. It was such a strange thing to think of her as mine, even as I held her on a pedestal, watched her and knew she could never be tamed.

           I felt the shiver that ran through her when I said those words. I smirked—there was no way to stop it. And I didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the same time. I’ll remember that for later.

 Mera, Morning, 8:44 AM

           My sweet wife, I thought, letting the words reverberate in my brain, Dean’s voice amplifying them into my consciousness. I could never get enough of hearing them, of knowing that he held me as his, that everything that I was belonged to him. For the first time, I understood the feeling of being perfectly protected, loved, cherished… wanted. It made my entire being feel light.

           Free.

           I leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on the end of Dean’s nose. He let out a little huff, one corner of his mouth curving up into an indulgent smirk. I grinned back at him, happier than I had been in a very long time.

           “We didn’t have too much in the fridge since we’re leaving tomorrow, but I did what I could,” I said, looking back over my shoulder at the plates still steaming on the counter. “Probably a good idea to buy the spoilable stuff in small doses.”

           When I turned back to him, there was an aura of calm settled on his face. Cornflower eyes swept along my face, the curve of my neck, the shape of my shoulders. He blinked, closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes again, they were glassy with tears.

           “Oh, Dean,” I cooed, settling my palms against his bearded cheeks. “Don’t do that. Please.”

 Dean, Morning, 8:47 AM

           Shit.

           Shit.

           The word ran through my thoughts, chasing around the overwhelming sense of being unworthy. Unworthy of being in her presence, of being the object of her love, of being able to hold her in my arms, kiss her, watch the way her face burned with pleasure. I was little more than a fucked-up kid from Ohio. She was the Midwestern girl with more brains than I’d ever have.

           Yet, there she was, my arms wrapped around the softness of her body. And she had agreed to be mine that wonderful night on the Vegas Strip. This ethereal goddess had stepped out of my wildest dreams to make my life so much more bearable.

           Mera brushed her thumb along my cheek, her voice wrapping around me and filtering through my thoughts. I breathed in deeply of the scent of her skin, found it mixed with my cologne.

           I sat her carefully on her feet, taking care to not let her go. As if she knew how much I needed it, she curled against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I clutched her to me, nose buried in her hair.

           “I never thought I would have a shot with someone like you,” I said, surprised to find my voice breaking. “You were so far out of my league. God knows, you still are.”

           She hugged me harder. My fingers delved into her hair, cradling her head against my chest, desperate to feel her against my fingers. It was the only thing that grounded me, kept me from being swept under in this feeling of inadequacy and terror of losing her when she realized who and what I really was.

           “Every second with you is more than I deserve.”

           She wriggled away, sending fear spiking in my veins. The breath ripped from my lungs as she looked up at me, fury snapping in her gaze.

           “Stop it,” she demanded firmly. “Right now.”

           Surprise kept my mouth shut.

           Mera rose up on her toes, palms against my neck, thumbs stroking the bottom of my jaw. “You are the most wonderful man that I’ve ever met. For seven years, you tried to be honorable. For seven years, you were a good friend. Dean Ambrose, you are kind, and gentle, and funny, and sweet, and caring, and smart, and…”

           “I’m not smart, Mera. Not like you.”

           “Bullshit,” she retorted quickly. “You are one of the smartest people I know. A degree doesn’t mean you’re smart. My brother has a master’s degree and he’s dumb as a brick. There are things you can do that I’ll never fathom.”

           She looked me in the eye, fire of conviction crackling all around her. “You are my husband, Dean. And my husband deserves everything in the world and more.”

           I opened my mouth to respond, but she shook her head firmly. She was wreathed in confidence and passion, everything about her awe-inspiring, breathtaking, beautiful.

           “Now sit your deserving ass down and eat your breakfast,” she ordered with a barely concealed grin.

           “Yes, ma’am, sweet wife.”

           God help me, Mera Reynolds was the only woman on the face of the planet who could put up with me. And I’d never let myself—or her—forget how lucky I was that she was mine and I was hers.  

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[the-beastslayers-queen]

Magic and Moonlight: Chapter 14

Chapter 14 is here darlings! Tagging @queenofthearchitect @wwepoppunkprincess @balorrollinsambrose @bethany99stuff-blog @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @sassyspacedust and @afauss2009 If you want to be tagged, hit my inbox. Enjoy!

Tonight I was dreamwalking. I was hoping to dreamwalk into Colby’s dream, and I really thought I did.

I was in a meadow, tall grass all around as I sat up on a boulder. I noticed that I wasn’t pregnant in the dream, making it seem pretty promising. But it was the man that approached me, that made me realize that I wasn’t in Colby’s dream.

The man wasn’t really a man, but a teenage boy, maybe nineteen-years-old at most. But this boy had Colby’s long hair, the wind blowing it out of his face. He had a very thin beard, like he was just starting to grow it. He had the same jawline as Colby too. But as he got closer, I saw he did not have the same nose or eyes as Colby. Instead I saw that he had my nose and my eyes. And seeing him up close I knew who was here with me.

It was my son. It was Tyler.

“Tyler,” I furrowed my brow at the boy, “This can’t be really happening right now.”

“Hi mom,” he smiled, just like his dad, and came to sit beside me on the boulder, “This is very real. But you’re not dreamwalking, I am.”

“But why,” I asked him.

“To tell you to not give up on Dad,” he replied, “Dad is so close to being back. It’s up to you to get him back the rest of the way. You already know the spell.”

I shot up awake from my dream only to find Colby on the edge of my bed. I stared at him, scared the hell out of my mind. Colby grabbed hold of my shoulders.

“Easy, Thea,” Colby stroked my hair calmingly, “It was just a dream, okay. You have to calm down for Tyler’s sake, okay.”

“I saw him, Colby,” I breathed, trying to catch my breath, “He was in my dream just now. I talked to him.”

“Well he is your son,” he chuckled a little, “He’s already using his magic. But did he have a lot to say?”

“Yeah,” I took a deep breath, “Just advice for me involving you.”

“Well it’s still early,” Colby got closer to me, “How about you try to get some more sleep and I’ll get my things settled for the weekend. I’ll bring you some breakfast later.”

When I woke up again, Colby was coming in with a tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, a mug of coffee, 2 forks, and a mug of tea. I smiled as I sat up, getting comfortable as Colby set the table over my lap.

“I brought us breakfast,” he greeted me, “I even fixed you some tea, just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” I replied before I took a sip of my tea, humming at the fact he did it exactly how I like it, “You really remembered how to make it the way I like it.”

“How can I forget,” he smiled, trying to make the smile reach his eyes.

“Alright,” I moved the tray off my lap and placed my hands on his cheeks, holding him close to me, “I’m done letting this go on anymore.”

I stretched out my magic, going deep into Colby’s mind, trying to find the spell Morrigan placed on him to turn him against me. I found it and I began to untangle its barbs out of his mind. I was struggling so hard, I hadn’t noticed my nose was bleeding from the excessive energy I was expending to do this. But once the last piece of it was out, I released him from my hold and slumped back against my pillows, exhausted.

“Thea,” Colby got closer to me, “Thea, are you alright? Babe, come on answer me. Fuck.”

“Colby,” I looked at him through half-opened eyes, “Did it work?”

“Yeah it worked,” he was smiling down at me, happiness reflected back at me, “I’m back. I’m here, okay. I’m not going anywhere, okay.”

I just smiled and let my head fall back, trying to regain my energy as best as I could. My spell took a lot out of me. Morrigan’s original spell was very strong, making it that much harder to break, but I broke it. I got Colby back.

“You’re bleeding babe, hang tight okay,” Colby ran off to my bathroom and I could hear him getting a wash cloth wet to clean me up. Once he came back, he began to clean me up, “You can’t do that kind of magic again, you hear me. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or Tyler just for my sake. But thank you for bringing the real me back.”

“I needed you,” I told him, “I can’t raise this baby on my own. And he encouraged me to try this spell anyway.”

“Hey Tyler,” Colby had his face down at my belly, talking to Tyler, “Don’t tell your mom to be risky again, alright. She has to stay safe for you and me, okay.”

I just laughed before I started to feel hungry, damn it Tyler. I grabbed the tray and put it back on my lap and started to dig into the breakfast Colby made for me. Colby sat there and laughed as he watched me shovel the scrambled eggs into my mouth.

“Slow down or you’ll choke,” Colby berated me while he kept laughing.

“Why do they make it so hard to build a damn crib,” Colby grumbled as he sat on the floor of my bedroom, trying to build Tyler’s crib, “Like damn it the instructions make no sense.”

“I could have had this built two hours ago,” I bragged as I leaned against my door frame, “But no, someone insisted on building it by hand.”

“I don’t want you using magic and risk draining yourself out. So I’m building the crib,” he protested, “After this morning, I’m taking zero chances, missy.”

“Oh relax,” I handed him the cup of coffee I brought up for him, “Putting together a crib is child’s play compared to getting Morrigan’s spell out of your head.”

“Nope,” Colby grabbed his coffee and took a sip, “I’m not chancing it.”

“You know what,” I put my hands on my hips before I stretched out my magic and built the crib anyway, “I’m doing it anyway. So ha!”

“You little,” Colby put his cup down and got up, picking up quickly and gently dropped me on the bed, “You are such a stinker.”

“I try,” I giggled.

Colby hovered above me, his eyes staring deeply into mine. I hadn’t been this close to him in such a long time, and I missed being like this. Colby leaned down, closing the distance between us, and pressed his lips against mine, sharing our first kiss in six and a half months. I was in heaven. I had missed feeling his lips against mine, kissing me so tenderly.

“I’ve missed this,” Colby sighed as he pressed forehead against mine, “I’ve missed being like this with you.”

“Me too,” I replied. I suddenly gasped and Colby leapt up off of me.

“Hey are you okay,” he asked, worried he might have hurt me.

“No I’m fine,” I started to laugh, “Tyler just kicked. I think he likes mommy and daddy getting along at last.”

“Thea,” I smiled as I saw Dean and Roman came into view as Colby and I left the airport.

Colby had asked me to come to see Wrestlemania. I’m at eight months now and I look ready to pop, but I had another month left before then. But I knew if I’m not careful, Tyler could come early, so I was always on guard, and so was Colby.

But now that we were back around the Authority, we had to be careful to not let it slip that I got Colby back and he was madly in love with me again. So I had to make sure I was at the top of my game while Colby acted like a dick to hide that I fixed his mind.

“Hey Rome! Hi Dean,” I greeted my two other favorite wolf-boys, “Thanks for picking us up.”

“Damn dollface,” Dean took in my appearance, “Are you smuggling a watermelon under your dress?”

“Seriously, Ambrose,” Colby groaned, “She’s still having mood swings.”

“It’s okay,” I rubbed Colby’s shoulder, “I think it’s funny. But you need to come up with better jokes if you plan on being the fun uncle, Dean-o.”

“I’m for sure going to be the fun uncle,” Dean replied, looking offended I’d suggest otherwise, “Because I can’t be the push-over uncle because Roman has that on lock.”

“Sorry you can’t be as easy-going as me, Uce,” Roman smirked, “Besides, I have to be the push-over since I already have to be the tough parent with Jojo.”

I was hanging out in my hotel room, just watching a movie and eating my dinner in bed when the lights in the room went out. I looked around, but I had a feeling I knew why the lights went out. Because once the lights came back up, I saw my old nemesis standing at the foot of my bed.

Morrigan.

“I see you couldn’t stay away for the sake of your baby, Thea,” she sneered at me.

“I have a truce with your lackeys,” I warned her as I conjured a shield around me, prepared for her to try to cast any magic on me, “You hurt me, and I’m sure you’ll be in trouble.”

“I’m here because I know you broke my spell on Colby,” she smirked, “But don’t worry, I won’t put it back on him. I left it there to have fun with you. And I wanted to test your power.”

“So what do you want,” I asked her.

“I came to warn you,” she got closer to me, “If you even think of trying to end me, I will make sure to take out someone you love when I go. Maybe I’ll take your son. Or maybe your mom. Oh or better yet, I’ll take Colby.”

“You harm any of them I’ll bring you back just to kill you again,” I sneered at her.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled at me, “For now they’re safe. I’ll see you around, Thea.”

And like that she was gone.

I was out in the crowd, enjoying Wrestlemania. Colby had me sit with his mom and step-dad. He knew his mom and step-dad could keep you safe and look after you while he was working the show.

Right now, Roman was in his match, the main event for the WWE championship was well underway. Brock Lesnar, who is a were-bear, yes a were-bear is a thing and much more menacing than a werewolf, was giving Roman the fight of his life. I was so worried for Roman, when I saw a shock of blond running down the ramp, I gave out a shriek. Colby was coming in with his briefcase. He was cashing in on Roman and Brock tonight.

“Seth Rollins is cashing in his money in the bank contract,” Jillian Garcia called out to the audience, “This will now be a triple threat match.”

With that, Colby went ham and kicked Roman out of the ring before going for a stomp on Lesnar. Roman came back into the ring a moment later, just as Brock rolled out of the ring. Colby went for another stomp, this time on Roman. This time he went for the pin and got the win. He was losing his damn mind as he celebrated his huge win. I was screaming and crying, so proud of him. I hugged his mom, overjoyed that our Colby got to have the biggest Wrestlemania moment of his career so far.

Colby

Thea and I were in her hotel room. Just like when we were back in NXT, Thea was holding my new title, the big WWE championship title, in her lap. She was just tracing the jewels on the belt, completely in awe of the fact I won this tonight.

“I’m extremely proud of you,” she sighed happily, “I think Tyler is too. He’s been moving around like crazy since you won.”

“Well I’m glad I made our little man proud,” I beamed like a little kid, “Have you been okay, though. Nothing’s sore right?”

“I’m okay,” she smiled, “How are you though? You got caught mid-air by Orton into a RKO.”

“I’m good though,” I replied, “Now are you hungry, babe?”

“I am,” she replied.

I got out of our bed and went to go find the room service menu over by the couch. As I grabbed the menu, I heard Thea let out a whimper before she started to groan in pain. I immediately ran back to her side.

“What’s going on,” I asked her, “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Colby,” she sucked in a painful breath, “I think Tyler’s coming early.”

“What,” I was dumbfounded, “He’s not due for another month. How is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” she was sobbing in agony, “Just get me to the hospital before I deliver him in this hotel room.”

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 9

Title & Song: Play With Fire

Characters: Alfie Solomons x OFC

Word Count: 2700+

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him, but where should she draw the line between business and pleasure now that she’s caught his attention? When forced together by an enemy, how do they handle having their lives becoming suddenly so intertwined?

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Play With Fire by The Rolling Stones. The songs give a good background to the stories and have some further insight into the characters. All text in italics is spoken in French.

Part 1: Thieves & Kings.- Pt. 2 Conquest - Pt. 3 Nail In My Coffin - Pt. 4 - 60 Feet Tall Pt. 5 I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor Pt. 6 Stop The World Pt 7 Making A Fool Of You Pt 8 L'Amour et la violence Pt 10 Black Treacle

My Masterlist.

Warnings: Language.

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

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You wear a dress to breakfast instead of your usual robe and nothing else. He's back in his loose white shirt, you see his braces hanging over his dark trousers, his wide shoulders set squared with his elbows on the table. You watch him as you descend the stairs and trot into the dining room.

Bold of him to choose to sit at the end of the table first, as if he were the head. At least he hadn’t sat in the most elaborate chair, which was yours. He didn’t seem like he was one to start pulling power moves like that with you this early. You take your usual spot in your high backed chair at the opposite end of the rectangular, almost black dark wood table. You greet him through the hands that move around you, handing you a slightly different breakfast than usual.

"Were you able to get some sleep?" you lilt, breaking the silence. He doesn't look like he's gotten much, but you’d look worse if you’d been through what he had the past twenty-four hours.

"That bed is a dream, mate." he says with a slow but enthusiastic inflection.

"Good." you chirp, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. You tap on your hard-boiled egg as you wonder where to begin. He breaks your thought process with the solution to your problem.

"So what ‘ave you being lyin’ to me about?" he says with a smirk, working his utensils on his plate, not looking up at you.

"Not as many things as you're assuming." you let out a chuckle at his lack of subtly. "Mainly from a lack of telling you anything distinctly personal about myself." You speak mostly into your teacup as you sip your tea. "So." you state forcefully, taking a deep breath. "Shall I start with the biggest lie?" you put on your more charming smile to make sure to lighten the mood. 

"Please, do." he answers with a nod of chin. You can't help but be entertained by the look on his tired face, the excitement of learning secrets in his eyes.

"My last name isn't Durand." your tone informative. You take a deeper breath before you speak again, "I'm The Lady Genevieve Greene." you say with a hint of reluctance, your face set in indifference for whatever reaction came your way. He stops chewing, sets his fork down and calmly pushes his plate to the side. His elbows rest on the table and he looks directly into your eyes like you were the most interesting thing in the world.

"A Lady?" he says quietly. His tone was suppressing his interest but his eyebrows were high, giving him away. He held his hands over his mouth, picking his beard. You nod and take another drink.

"My father is a British nobleman, my mother, born French." you pause and chew the inside of your cheek.

"That explains that funny little accent." he says with the realization in his voice, his head nodding slowly.

"Excuse you?" you ask in a scoff of a laugh, your eyebrows raising, a hesitant smile on your face.

"You have that littl' french twist to ya words sometimes, don’t ya?" he's rubbing his chin, piecing together everything he's learned about you, you can tell.

"Always the observant one." you taunt back in a low voice, not knowing if you felt insulted or not.

"How do you know Tommy Shelby?" he asks, fingers fully dug into his beard as his mind frolics in new information.

"I went to the same school as his wife, Grace. Our fathers knew each other, we were friends." You decide to continue when he doesn't interrupt you further. "I spent my summers in France,” you say in an exhale, “I attended a girls school in the south here where I met Grace.” you shrug slightly in conclusion, adding, “ I spent the holidays up north with father's family." you stop and consider his expression.

"Well that answer was far less climactic than I imagined it to be, yeah?" he huffs out a laugh. "How'd you get into theivin' if it weren't Tommy who done it?" he narrows his eyes at you.

"That's a personal question, not something I may or may not have lied about." you frown at him just slightly. He holds up his hands up in surrender for a moment. Since he doesn't press you further, you give the information freely. "I got into small crime for the thrill as a teenager and it built from there." you offer as an answer. "Then I decided to move to London from Paris and try to start my own legitimate business and build my own wealth, apart from my family's so I could support myself and the lifestyle I prefer without their money's involvement." you stop to take a drink.

"Ah, distancing yourself from the title in the name of independence, eh? That's why you changed your name then." he says his mouth drawn down into a thoughtful and impressed pose, his hand returning to the tabletop, it was more of a rhetorical statement you believed, so you nod in response.

"And in confidence, I tell you that if my stone hearted father had his way my last name wouldn't be Greene in fact." you frown, your brow slouching over your eyes in thought. "But if I may be so bold as to say I am my mothers favorite and therefore I'm still entertained to be part of the lot of them." you shrug, taking a drink.

"An old rich nobleman's daughter who won't conform to what daddy says, eh?" he elaborates in his own way to your former statement, his tone amused. "But yer ya mum's favorite for the same reasons you're his least, right?"

You let out a small chuckle and a grin is already on his lips when you look back up from the table at him. "Tale as old as time." you say in a playfully annoyed way.

“You seem to’ve done quite well for yourself Genevieve.” he says, eyes moving around the room before looking back at you.

Your smile is smug as you look him over after the compliment. “I have.” you say with a small nod, still smiling as you sip your tea. 

“I didn’t know there was so much to be made in honey.” he says with a smirk.

“More than you’d assume, yes.” you chuckle. When his eyes just keep staring into you, you roll your eyes and entertain his insistent expression. “Although the forms of income you are more familiar with do bring in more.” you say almost sarcastically because you knew he wanted to know what all you were into, but you weren’t giving that over to him just yet. “I didn’t get all this money by giving away all my secrets so you can stop looking at me like that.” you give him a soft glance and laugh, motioning your fork at him. His expression shifts almost instantly, an amused subtle smile on his face. He moves his hands away from his mouth, breaking the barrier he’d put up. His predatory nature was suppressed as he realizes he’s not in a negotiation, just having breakfast with the lady who has been more than hospitable towards him. He realizes he’s carrying tension from the stress he’s under and he doesn’t want to take that out on you.

"So what about the rest of the Greene’s? You have brothers and sisters then?" he asks, you're surprised this is the direction he was choosing to explore. His voice was easy going and his face charming and listening. "Nieces, nephews and the like?" he looks up at you, finding your face to have fallen slightly, his brow twitches at the realization he's opened his big mouth far too wide on the subject for you.

"Yes." you answer with a small half smile on your face, not reaching your eyes.

"The name Genny Greene makes you sound like some girl I used to know from the schoolyard, dunnit?" he blurts out with a teasing tone. You don't know if he senses your sadness at the thought of your family or if he felt he needed the attention pulled back to him momentarily, but you found his delivery very endearing nonetheless.

"Genny?" you stick your tongue out in disgust. "You sound like a Shelby, Alfie. Please don't, I have enough Shelby's in my life." your statement becomes littered with laughter as it carries on. "I have nothing against sounding like a schoolyard friend but if you must shorten my name, please take the most direct route and call me Gen, please." you say shaking your head, entertained but a slight scold to your tone.

"I think I prefer The Lady Genny, yeah?" he sounds almost proud of himself, his lips set in a pose of consideration. You narrow your eyes at him, a less friendly smirk on your face.

"Just because you know my real name now doesn't mean you get to call me by my title in public unless I instruct you to, Mr. Solomons." you use his name to let him know you're serious but your slouched shoulders tell him you aren't angry at his poking.

"Back to formalities so quickly Gen?" he hums in amusement at you. 'You should know I wouldn't call ya that where others could hear." he grumbles in defense of himself.

"When I said I had nothing against sounding like a schoolyard friend I didn't mean I was inviting you to take the piss out of me and pull my figurative pigtails, Aflie." you switch back to his first name to show you’re not being aggressive. You grin but pick at your plate with a fork, not looking at him. He laughs out loud at your response, bringing his own plate back in front of him while his shoulders shake.

"Well certainly won't now that I know you're a Lady," he smirks at you, mocking in his voice. The title was a formality he found to be so humorous due to your lack of Ladylike behavior in so many situations thus far. "Not now that I know you can send me to the guillotine with a nod of your noble chin, yeah?" he keeps his eyes on your face, you hold back a laugh, your tongue pushed against your teeth as your lips pull back and you chew to keep yourself from giving the reaction he sought. He's relieved when you roll your eyes and direct them at his.

"Oh, fuck off, Alfie." you chide with an animated shake of your head. He claps his hands together once, his head thrown back for just a moment in a shouted singular note of amusement at your crass words. You're both inclined to laugh as your faces level to meet each other in a pleasant exchange, sharing a glance into the others crinkled eyes before going back to your breakfast.

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

You'd had meetings set up for the upcoming week to try to get your mind off the dreams but since that situation remedied itself, you found yourself just plain old busy. Maybe getting your head back into work was what you needed.

You would have short breakfasts with Mr. Solomons and only one short dinner that week. He woke up early and went to bed late. You'd seen him come stalking in, heading to his room as you sat on a chair in the study at the end of the hallway, returning your eyes to your reading or drawing until they burned and you went to bed. You knew Alfie was a busy man but with the hours he kept, it made you feel lazy. When you saw him at breakfast, he was always there before you, sometimes finished before you even drew yourself to the table. You had painful small talk only once, as you both spoke to your seconds, finalizing plans for the day. You'd both realized neither wanted small talk, there was no point, so you would greet each other, give very curt briefings of what was keeping you both so busy and part with pleasantries. You were thankful he was a quiet, low maintenance guest. The maids were all wide-eyed at having a man in the house, especially the young ones. You couldn't blame them.

You'd come home later than him for once, a particularly grating day of contract negotiations, meetings for both Abeille and otherwise, your mind needed to lose some of its tension. Aggie tells you he's using your usual cozy space of the guest study for his work and you get out of your stuffy dress and into something soft. Another maid meets you in the hall on the way to the study with a glass of wine. She smiles and says Aggie wanted you to have it as you looked like you needed it. You accept it with a sarcastic thanks. 

You peak into the room, the fire going on the left wall, the desk sitting at the far end of the rectangular space in front of a heavily curtained window. He has his little half glasses on his nose. His hands, still decorated in rings at this late hour, hold papers and he busies himself with a pen to another sheet.

You move into the doorway. Only his eyes move to look at you at first, then he looks back down to finish his thought onto the paper. "Right," he says a reboot to his system, blinking his eyes and stretching out his arms. "I'll have my mess cleaned up before I head to bed." he says, motioning to the desk, stacks of paper and books on it.

"No, don't worry about it," you say dismissing his words with a swipe of your hand. "Would you like to just use this as your own personal study while you're here?" you suggest, sitting on the edge of the couch, facing the desk, not that far from where you sat.

"I wouldn't want to impose." he grumbles, shaking his head. 

"You're aware you're already living in my house, correct?" you joke, a tired smile on your face. "You see how many fucking rooms there are, Alfie, don't be ridiculous." you say in a lower register, moving your glass as you speak. He gives you a small amused smile, nods, and hums in agreement with your words.

"In that case, I'd like four rooms," he says, nodding his head to you. You hold in a laugh poorly at his animated head shaking at his own words. You keep your face straight, your eyes giving you away and try to scold him with a look. "Right. No fun, you are. Just this and the bedroom, yeah?" he says with fake exasperation, you're too tired to care about your reaction and you let yourself laugh at him, looking back into his mischievous gaze. You sigh and run your hand through your hair, resting both your hands on the edge of the couch.

"There's one catch to this room though," you say, your pointed foot tracing the flowers on the carpet. His eyebrows raise at you, a smug look on his face. "This room happens to be the one I like the best for my reading at night." you shrug as in, what could you do about it. "So if you don't mind me planting myself by the fire with my head buried in a book on occasion, the room is yours," you say, your hand motioning to the space.

"Seeing as I've already set my papers here I suppose I'll just have to get over it, won't I?" he says while looking down at the desk, shaking his head even though the way he held his mouth told you he was being cheeky.

"That's a relief." you nod."Because it is my house and I would sit in here regardless of your answer." he head tilts just slightly at your words. " But I am glad you're proving cooperative." your face ran from straight to playfull over the course of your words, him watching you speak all of them. You start to walk towards the doorway, your body moving slowly from overuse, you lean on the doorway with your hip and shoulder. You lead with one of your true intentions on speaking with him this evening. "I periodically throw small parties for my staff. There's a big menu, music and everyone's invited. Just little thank you's from time to time and on holidays and special occasions and the like." you pause your wandering eyes back on him, he looks slightly confused as to what you're getting at. "It would seem the large portion of my house staff, who happen to be Jewish have used your arrival here as a means to get me to throw some of these said parties for Shabbat. And even though they already do get the day off, they did bring up a good point about how I should make sure my guest feels entirely welcome, as per my role of Lady of the house and I happen to agree with that." you give a small half shrug in consideration. "So, would you happen to be able to join us for dinner tomorrow night?" you clasp your hands together in front of you, your fingertips fussing with each other.

"Would you like me to?" his brow lowers just momentarily when he asks your opinion. His eyes are much more awake than yours, not moving away from you as you feel he senses a weight to your question.

"Of course I would," you state plainly with an air of ease, showing him there was no loaded double meaning to your words. "Having dinner with me," you hold your hand to your chest. "The woman who practically saved your life if you recall, it would be a nice way to start thanking me for that wouldn't it?" you smile, his lips return the gesture. You watch him as those direct words of affirmation reach his ears, even laced with your teasing tone. "I assumed that you wouldn't be working come sundown tomorrow." your face is pleasant and only hinted with sarcasm. "But being as this is the longest we've spoken since your arrival, I didn't know if you'd be able to write me down in the diary on such short notice." your face is friendly to him but still full of attitude.

"I've written you in every time you've asked so far, haven't I?" he answers you with an unexpected, disarmingly charming smile that affects you far too much in your sleepy state.

"Shall I order the Challah then?" you retort back your chin raising in minor defiance to his taunting words, crossing your arms under your chest, your mouth open in an easy-going smile.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll bring it myself." he says with a definitive nod as you narrow your eyes at him, open smile still on your face.

"So cooperative." you almost coo at him with a biting grin. You start chuckling to yourself as you start the long walk back to your room.

Pt 10 Black Treacle

[drinkupthesunrise]

I mean it wouldn't even even really be much of AU, but definitely here for Wedge/Mon Mothma, long distance relationship, because that pairing has definitely been in my head.

To, what I’m sure is absolutely no one’s surprise, this got a little out of hand. Properly AU, because the only other fic I could think of was the love letters on I really want to write one day, and I want to do that justice. So instead of that, have something that is really very id-ficcy and contains too many feelings about having the person you adore live far away from you. (to be ao3ed later, I’m sure. now on ao3!) Also! Tagging @sassysnowperson and @harusamemosuke as the other people I’ve dragged onto this ship somehow.

Theymeet in the comments section of a blog post about D H Karver’slatest romance novel.

Lookingback, it’scertainly an odd start to a relationship. The fact that it goesanywhere is something near a miracle.

Butsix months later, Wedge spends almost his entire day in contact withher. She’sthe first person he messages when he wakes up, and the last person hetalks to before he goes to sleep. His friends are all highly bemusedby the situation, wondering why Wedge is now almost surgicallyattached to his phone, wondering who the mystery woman is.

Wedgedoesn’t have an answer to that.

Hedoesn’t really know himself.

.

WedgeAntillesMorning,Mon. Sleep well?

MonShit.…I might have worked all night.

WedgeAntillesIt’sstill morning? :DThothat’s not good, what on earth were you doing? Something importantenough to justify you being up all night?

MonInsome ways.I’lllive Wedge, this is hardly the first time.

WedgeAntillesIknow, but doesn’t mean I like it. You should take better care ofyourself.

MonAsyou keep telling me.Toobad I don’t actually have you to look after me.

WedgeAntillesPhysicallydragging you to bed is beyond me, I’mafraid.Gohave something to eat and then try and get a nap, okay Mon?

MonCan’tmake any promises, but I’ll try.

Hestill doesn’tknow much about the particulars of her life, what she does for a job,what her last name is, what she looks like. None of it matters,because he also knows her as well as he knows anyone else in theworld. He tries to stop himself falling for her too hard, knowingthat he’s only got a limited picture of who she is. But thefeelings are there, no matter how hard he tries to stop them.

Itdoesn’tmatter what she looks like, or what she does. He knows the truth ofher, and that’s all he needs to know.

Hesent her a photo of himself, seven months in. It’s a candid one thatTycho snapped, of him at one of their community activism events. It’sreasonably flattering, though he only meant to send it so she had anidea of what he’d looked like.

WedgeAntilles

WhatI did today.

MonIsthat you, on the right?

WedgeAntillesYeah.… why?

MonYou’revery handsome.

Wedgeremembers blushing. He remembers trying to wave her off, but she’dbeen quietly insistent on the truth of it. He’d asked for one in return, but she’d never sent one back. 

.

WedgeAntillesSo.Look. No pressure, but my friends and I are coming to London in threeweeks for personal reasons, and I was just wondering – do you wantto have dinner?Iunderstand if you don’t, I know you’re busy.AndI’mjust some random guy off the internet.

Mon(Mothma? Unconvinced)Wedgeyou’rean important part of my life, not some random guy off the internet.Whenare you here? There might be something I can’tget out of, but I’ll try.

WedgeAntilles25thMay. It’s a Friday.Youprobably have better plans for a Friday than me.

Mon(Mothma? Unconvinced)Can’tthink of anything better than spending time with you, don’t putyourself down.I’llhave to check with my aide.AmI good to pick the restaurant? Where are you staying? What do youlike?

WedgeAntillesI’measy :D Surprise me.

.

Wedgetexts Mon throughout the day, though they are both busy, and thereplies are sporadic. As the day draws to a close, Wedge feels thebutterflies starting to form in his stomach.

He’snot nervous. Well, maybe a little, but it’s a thrill, not a deeprouted anxiety. He can’t quite believe he’ll finally get to meether.

Allhis friends know where he’sgoing. He leaves to his fair share of ribbing, but he really couldn’tcare. He makes his way down the escalators to the tube, cursing thelack of signal means he can’t text Mon, his usual strategy to dealwith his dislike of crowds and hustle and bustle.

Hedrums his fingers against the overhead rail as he waits for his stop.

Monhas picked a restaurant not far from the Palace of Westminster. Itmakes Wedge wonder whether he’sgot it right about her identity. He’s starting to think that it isn’ta coincidence she shares a name with the leader of the oppositionparty. He doesn’t really want to think about it that hard, hasn’tpressed because he doesn’t want to know. He’s trusted that she’lltell him what he needs to know.

Nowhe will find out anyway.  

Heclimbs up from the tube, around the corner, checks his phone. He hasa text from her confirming that she’sthere. He sent her a photo, a selfie snapped off earlier that day, soshe knows what he looks like. He hopes that she’ll spot him.

Hepushes the door open. It’s more rustic than he figured, closer to apub than a restaurant. He glances round, looking for a woman at atable on her own. He can’t see one clearly. He moves into the tables,trying to look in the crevices.

“—Antilles?”

Ahand is at Wedge’selbow. It’s not a woman’s hand, it’s a man. He smiles warmly atWedge. “Yes?” Wedge replies.

“Mon’sthis way, if you’ll just follow me.” The man leads Wedge to atable behind a partition. There’s a woman sitting at the table. Awoman who is familiar.

Aclose crop of red hair sits atop a long, pale face. Her shirt – asalways – is white, with a single red and silver broach pinned to herchest the only spot of colour. Her mouth is pulled into a soft smile.She’sknown for her neutrality, her position as a figurehead, the unitingfront of her party. There are others who fight her battles for her.

“Youknow, you could have told me,” Wedge says, as he sits down. “Ihad my suspicions.”

Montucks a strand of hair behind her ears. She’snervous. “I didn’t want to scare you off,” she says. “Andthen… it just seemed easier to explain in person.” She smiles athim, and Wedge feels his stomach flip. Then she turns. “It’s okaySinjir. He’s clearly exactly who he says he is.”

Sinjir,the man who brought Wedge over casts an asparaging eye over Wedge. Hecrosses his arms. “Ifyou say so. He doesn’t look like a threat. Call me if you needanything.”

Heturns on his heels and leaves, and finally, Mon and Wedge are leftalone.

.

Fifteenminutes in, Wedge’sphone goes off.

“I’vegot to get this, sorry.” Wedge answers it, and lifts it to his ear,knowing that despite the caller ID saying Tycho, it could be any oneof his friends who’s decided to give him an out. If he doesn’tpick it up, they’ll all come down there. “Yes?”

“Hereis your fifteen-minute-emergency get out call, Hobbie is primed tomake up some Grade A bullshit if you need it.”

It’sWes. Of course it’s Wes. “Tell your boyfriend to stand down, I’mfine.” Wedge runs a hand back through his hair. “I’ll keep youguys posted on when I’ll be home, don’t do anything stupid whilstI’m gone.”

Wedgehangs up. He puts his phone back in his pocket. When he looks backup, Mon is giving him an odd look, one eyebrow raised. “Myfriends,” Wedge explains with a wave of his hand. “Promised tocall and give me a reason to get out of this if it wasn’t goingwell.” Mon’s eyebrow remains raised. “Their idea,” Wedge tagson. “I knew it would all be fine.”

“I’mglad you have friends who look out for you like that.” Mon’swords are soft. There’s an undercurrent that Wedge is familiarwith, having felt it many times himself. There’s only so much youcan do for someone who lives that many miles away from you. It’sreassuring to know that there are people in their corner, who can bethere for them when all you can offer is kind words down a line.

Wedgefights the urge to reach over and take her hand. “They’regood eggs. Pain in the backside too, but they’re good.” Wes,Tycho, Hobbie – they’re the best friends a guy could ask for,really. And then Wedge laughs to himself.

“What’sso funny?” Mon asks.

Wedgegets himself under control. “Youknow how we met? Talking about D H Karver’s novels?” Mon nods.“This is ridiculous, I’m warning you.”

“Goon.” Mon smiles again, and Wedge is determined to make her smile asmuch as he can that evening, because her smile is so delightful.

“So,it’s a pen name, we all know that. But no one knows who she is,she’s mysterious as fuck—” Mon laughs as Wedge swears without acare. “You know why? She’s actually my friend Hobbie.”

Monlooks at him for a moment, trying to decide if he’sserious. “Your friend Hobbie, the same one who took ten years torealise he was head over heels in love with his best friend, is famedromance novelist D H Karver?”

“Apparentlyso.” Wedge shrugs. “I only found out last week, when the guyswere interrogating me about you – sorry, I tried not to say toomuch – and Wes burst out into violent laughter when I told them howwe met.”

Monstares at him for another long moment, before her face crinkles upand she starts laughing. It’sjoyful and jubilant and Wedge can’t help but join in. He laughswith her, grateful that he’s with her in that moment, to see herreact and not to have to rely on the tools of text and emoji for herto convey her delight. “That’s amazing,” she says. “What acoincidence.”

.

Theyfinished eating long enough ago that they should probably be movingon. Dinner has been more delightful than Wedge ever even dreamed itwould be. At some point, he slipped over to Mon’sside of the booth to show her some pictures from his day, and henever left. He’s stayed by her side, the two of them brushingagainst each other constantly, sharing touch with ease.

Hewatches her. More than he probably should. He wants to remember her,the way her face lights up as she talks, so he can picture it later.If he looks long enough maybe he can commit her to memory.

Shepauses in the middle of her speech. “Sorry,I’m going off on one again.” She looks back over and Wedge iscaught staring.

Heducks his head, feeling as the heat covers his cheeks. “Sorry,”he mumbles. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Doesn’twant to be that guy, who can’t clamp down his feelings, who makesit weird.

“Youdon’t need to be embarrassed,” Mon says. She places a hand on hisknee, squeezing softly, and then runs her hand along the outside edgeof his thigh.

Wedgeis from a circle of touchy-feely friends, who live in each otherspockets and will fit four of them on a two-person sofa. But thisfeels different. It’snot some bullshit heteronormative nonsense, where it’s differentbetween a man and a woman, because Wedge is about as straight as awinding country road. It feels different because he wants Mon,because there is this connection between them, and Wedge hopes tohell and back he’s not misreading this.

Helooks back up at her. Her smile takes his breath away. He tries togather up the courage to say something, thinking if there is a momentwhere he could, it is now. But the words stick in his throat. Theuncertainty haunts him. He’drather things just stayed like this. He doesn’t know what to do ifshe disappeared out of his life.

“Wedge?”she enquires.

“It’sokay, carry on.” Wedge smiles back at her. He reaches for her hand,the one that’s on his leg, tangling her fingers in his. “I likehearing you talk.”

.

Theytalk a little while longer, and then Mon suggests a walk, around andalong the river. Wedge, who has no wish for this night to end, agreesreadily. Mon takes care of the check, despite Wedge’soffer to go half with her – she chose the place, she pays, that’swhat she says. He can pay next time.

Wedge’sheart jumps at the thought that there will be a next time.

Monmakes a striking figure in her long white coat. She’staller than him, and gains another inch or so from the low heels onher shoes. Wedge doesn’t mind that. He doesn’t have manypreferences when it comes to looks. Mon is an objectively lovelywoman – she’s not a classic beauty, but there’s something abouther features, her character, that makes people believe in her, towant to do anything for her. Wedge knows her better than that, andthe feeling only gets worse as you know the strength of her heart andconvictions.

(She’solder than him too. That doesn’t bother him either. His friendshave always says he’s an old soul.)

Theystep out, and there’sa chill in the air now that comes with the late evening. “You knowaround here better than I do,” Wedge says, looking at the way thewarm light from the streetlamps catches in her hair. “Lead theway.”

“Alright.”Mon offers her arm. It takes Wedge a moment to realise she’soffering it to him, and then he accepts it, linking his arm throughhers.

Theysettle into step easily. Mon points out relevant important landmarkswhen they pass them, but mostly they walk in quiet. She leads himround, and then down to Westminster Bridge. They stop halfway acrossit, pausing to watch the river.

“Idon’t like London much,” Wedge admits. Mon lives here, representsone of the many London constituencies, and he doesn’t know ifshe’ll take offence. “It’s too busy for me. But from here, Iguess I could.” It’s quiet, and he can see the stars above, andMon is by his side, and Wedge thinks that he’d like anywhere, ifonly she was with him.

“Theriver is one of my favourite places,” Mon says. Her hand rests inthe small of Wedge’s back. “Especially at this time of night. Icome out here sometimes, just to think. Spent a lot of time textingyou from this exact spot, actually.”

Wedgelifts his head up to the sky. “Irecognise the stars,” he says, finding the constellations the sameway he did in all the pictures she sent. He thinks of all those latenight messages, stray thoughts that crossed her mind, accompanied bya snapshot of her view. He turns his head to look at her, only tofind she’s already looking at him. “Thanks for sharing this withme.”

“I’vewanted to for a while.” Her fingers reach up, brushing Wedge’shair out of his face and behind his ear. As her hand pulls back, herfingers graze across the line of his jaw. Wedge wants to lean intoher touch, but it’s so fleeting, been and gone before he has timeto reach up and keep her hand here. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“WishI was here for more than an evening.”

“You’rewelcome to come back,” Mon suggests. “Or I could come and visityou. I’m sure I could find some excuses to be north of the border.”

“Notsure how welcome you might be, given how hard you campaigned for theunion.”

Monshoves him, playfully. “WedgeAntilles, don’t tell me you’re a nationalist.”

Wedgelaughs, leaning back into her. “Ifear politics may be a dangerous thread of discussion.” He shrugs.“Eh, I don’t have any stakes in that game. I’d like you tovisit. I’d like to spend any time with you I could. I’d certainlylike to see you more than once a year or so.”

“I’llmake it happen. Find a date. You’re really not that far away,really.”

“Scotlandmight as well be another country from London, honestly.” Wedgelaughs. “I’d take another date.” He pauses, when he realiseswhat he’s said.

Monmust catch his wariness. She reaches over, tangles her fingers inhis, and speaks before Wedge can backtrack. “Thiscan be a date, if you want it to be.” Her grip tightens. “I’dlike it to be,” she says, voice soft and sweet, and so utterlysincere.

“Oh.”Wedge gasps.

Shelikes him. She wants this. Wedge isn’tthe only one with a mess of feelings he doesn’t know what to dowith. This evening has been exactly what Wedge has wanted to think itwas.

“Iwant that.” The words are awkward, but Wedge reckons it’s ablessing that he gets them out at all. “I—” He forces himselfto look at her, to meet her eyes. “I like you. I’ve liked you fora while now. I just… I didn’t want to put that on you. But I’dlike to date you, very much.”

Thewords feel clumsy in his mouth. He hopes that he gets enough acrossthat she understands, the way she’salways understood him.

“Ilike the sound of that,” Mon says back.

She’ssmiling, and Wedge feels the tug of desire. He steps forward,bringing them closer. “Can I—” He inclines his head towardshers. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,”Mon says, before closing the gap herself.

Theymeet and it’sall Wedge has dreamed of, in those quiet moments where hisimagination got away from him. There’s nothing inherentlyspectacular about it, but it feels like home. It feels like they’vekissed a thousand times before, but no less exciting for that fact.

Itends too soon. Wedge pulls back to look at her. Two bright spots ofred colour her cheeks. Her smile is bright, reaching right up to hereyes. She looks giddy with it all. As is Wedge. He’sso happy right now, happier than he ever remembers being, filled withan infectious joy.

Andso he kisses her again.

.

“Idon’t want to go.” Wedge scuffs his feet along the floor, knowingfull well that he should be responsible. It’s late. He’s tired.His friends are probably starting to wonder if he is coming home thatnight.

“Well,you don’t have to.” Mon cocks her head at him. “You couldalways come back to mine. My sofa’s free, if you want it, or I’vegot an empty half of a bed.” She blushes, looking away, a littleembarrassed. “If you don’t think that that’s moving too fast.”

“Youdid point out we’ve basically been dating for six months or so, wejust didn’t know it.” Wedge reaches in his pocket for his phone.“I’d love to, I just should probably check that my friends aren’twaiting up to interrogate me – which they will be – and let themknow I’m fine.”

“Youdo that.” Mon squeezes his hand as he steps away. He dials Luke,given that it’s Luke’s flat they’re all crashing in. Also, Lukeis unlikely to give him the full dose of grief. If he’s the one whoactually picks up his phone.

Wedgelistens to the line ringing, and prays that his exceptional run ofluck holds. Luckily, it does. Luke lets him go with minimal fuss,thanks him for calling, and ignores the way Wes and Hobbie areheckling in the background. It leaves Wedge to turn back to Mon, witha wide smile. “I’mall yours,” he says.

“Excellent.”

.

Wedgewakes the next morning, in a bed that isn’this own, a warm body along his side. He blinks his way toconsciousness slowly, stretching out.

Besidehim, Mon mumbles a noise of displeasure, and nestles closer to hisside. She throws a leg over his thigh and an arm round his waist,determined not to let him go. Wedge lets himself lie back into it fora moment, enjoying the physicality of her lying beside him, knowingthat its absence will haunt him later. He runs his hand over her arm,tucks his nose into her hair.

Theylie like that for a while. Wedge doesn’twant to ever get up, to leave the comfort of her arms. But he has atrain to catch. “Mon.” He pokes the soft flesh of her upper arm,as deliberately as he can muster. “Mon, darling, I’ve got to getup. I’m booked to get out of London by midday, because past me wasan idiot who didn’t think this through.”

Shegrumbles, clutching him even tighter. “No.I’ll book you on another train. A flight. Whatever.”

Wedgeallows himself to consider it for a moment. To stay with her, in thisbed, ignoring the world and their responsibilities. It would bebliss.

Butthey’donly buy themselves some scant hours. Wedge has a number of thingsfrom his event yesterday that need wrapping up, and a weekend’sworth of chores to do. Mon has – christ, Mon probably has goodnessknows how many things she needs to do.

“Ican’t,” Wedge murmurs back at her. “Next time.”

Monuntangles herself from him. She stares at him, her red hair rumpledand falling every which way over her head. She’slovely like this, Wedge thinks, unguarded and completely herself.“Next time,” she says. “I’m clearing three days of myschedule and we’re not leaving the bed.”

Wedgelaughs, and ducks into kiss her.

.

Wedgeends up dashing across Euston station for his train, to where Wes,Hobbie and Tycho are all waiting in the first carriage for him. Theytug him on a moment before the guard signals for the train to depart.“Surehope your lady friend was worth it, Wedge,” Wes teases, as theymake their way to their seats.

“She’sworth the entire world,” Wedge replies, not caring what amount ofshit he gets for waxing lyrical over her. As they sit down, Wedgepulls his phone out of his pocket. He’s got a text waiting.

MonMothmaMissyou already x

Wedgesmiles softly to himself, knowing he must look lovestruck.

WedgeAntillesMissyou too.Ilove you.

MonMothma…you couldn’t have said that when you were here????

WedgeAntilles… sorry?

MonMothmaIlove you too.Callme when you get home safe.

WedgeAntillesIwill.

[i-also-miss-our-talks]

The Park ~ Davey Jacobs x Reader

And in that moment, David “Davey” Jacobs fell in love with you.

He saw you. He saw you. He saw you.

Holy shit this is long. And not requested. I haven’t done a Davey Jacobs thing yet so here’s one. Let me know your thoughts, please! I’ll give you cookies!

WC: 3,298

Warning: Parental death, Like one swear word

Masterlist

David “Davey” Jacobs was never one to love something with all his heart. Except Les, of course. He’d normally just really enjoy things or maybe have a little crush on someone but nothing more.

That was, until he saw you.

No, it wasn’t one of those mushy “love at first sight” kinda things.

It was when he actually saw you. When he saw you for who you really were. When he saw all your perfect imperfections. When he saw all your hopes and dreams. When he saw how sweet and caring you were.

That’s when David “Davey” Jacobs knew he loved you with all his heart.

But this was after months of knowing you, so let’s start from the beginning.

“C’mon, Davey! We’re almost there! Can’t have my goil waiting,” Les said as he ran towards the towns park.

David sighed, barely looking up from his book as he walked slowly behind his brother. “I’m coming, Les. And she wont be waiting. It’s still another ten minutes before you told her you would meet her,” the older boy explained.

Les laughed and continued on his way. A few minutes later, the brothers had arrived at the small park. David promptly sat down on a bench and continued his book. He would glance up every once in a while to make sure Les was still within his sight. Speaking of, the young boy straightened out his clothes and fixed his hair as he waited for his girl to arrive for their date.

Eventually, the ten minute mark had arrived, but there was no sign of his girl. His smile did falter a bit, but Les still stood proud and presentable as he waited.

Five minutes passed and still no sign of her.

Seven and Les lost his smile.

Ten minutes and Les didn’t bother to fix his hair when the wind blew on it.

Fifteen and the little boy sat on the ground.

Twenty and Les knew he had been stood up. He sighed and played with the blades of grass. Les heard footsteps and was met with someone crouching down next to him.

“Hey, little dude. You okay?”

Les looked up to see you smiling at him. He sighed and shook his head. “Nah really. My goil didn’t show up.”

You frowned and ruffled his hair. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe I can be your girl? That way you can make her jealous,” you said with a wink.

The little boy smiled. “Really? Youse do that for me?”

“Of course! Now come on, last one to the slide is a rotten egg,” you laughed and started running towards the play set.

Les laughed and chased after you.

David looked up from his book when he heard Les laugh. When his eyes landed on you, he quickly got up and ran over to his brother. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing with my little brother?”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat at the top of the slide. “What does it look like? I’m playin’ with him.”

“Yeah, well, don’t!”

Les sighed. “You don’t want someone playin’ with me, Davey?”

You stifled a laugh. “Davey? Is that really what it says on your birth certificate?”

David blushed lightly, but kept his glare. “It’s David, actually. Davey is just what my friends call me. I’m sure your name isn’t any better.”

“Y/N. That’s the one I was born with. My friends don’t have a nickname for me. Not yet, at least,” you shrugged.

“Davey, let us get back ta playin’,” Les said.

“No. We’re going home, Les,” David commanded and grabbed his brothers arm, starting to drag him home.

“Hey! Relax, Davey,” you said and hopped off the slide. You stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Les just wants to play for a bit. You can join us if you think I’m gonna hurt him.”

David frowned. “Don’t call me ‘Davey.’ And we’re going home.”

“Please, Davey. Let me play with my goil,” Les said, pouting with his bottom lip.

You smirked and crossed your arms over your chest. “You wouldn’t separate your brother from his girl, would you, Davey?”

The older boy rolled his eyes. “Fine. Thirty minutes. And again, don’t call me Davey.”

Laughing, you grabbed Les’ hand and pulled him to the monkey bars. “Sure thing, Davey.”

Soon enough, thirty minutes came to an end, and David was sure to let you know by grabbing Les’ hand and beginning to walk away. “But Davey, Ise still playin’.” Les frowned, trying to convince him to stay longer.

You frowned and followed after them. “Davey, let Les play longer if he’s having fun. You don’t control him anyways.”

David turned on his heel. “Oh, and you do?”

You stepped close to him so that you were only a few inches apart. “That’s not what I meant. I meant Les is his own person. Let him decide how long and who he wants to play with.”

The tall boy let out a huff. “I see. You think he’s your own brother, don’t you? You want to take care of him ‘cause you’re his ‘girl’.”

“I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to. I did.”

Your fists clenched as you stood on the tips of your toes, leveling your eyes with his. “Alright. Listen here, David…whatever your last name is.”

“Jacobs.”

“Whatever! I don’t care! The point is just because you want something to happen doesn’t mean everyone else has to follow! You’re not a union leader; no ones following you or looking to you for guidance!” You look down at Les. “I’ll be back here at two tomorrow if you want to continue playing,” you said, giving him a soft smile.

The little Jacobs smiled brightly and nodded. “Ise see you then!”

David glared at you before tugging Les away. “Yeah. We’ll see you then, Y/N,” he spat.

You crossed your arms and watched them walk away before letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Tomorrow. Right. We’re gonna make it to an hour.”

The next day, you sat on a bench while you waited for the brothers to return. Soon enough you heard Les call out your name. You stood up and smiled him. “Hey, Les. Good to see Davey didn’t lock you in a cage to keep you from playing today.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Y/N,” David mocked. “And it’s David. Not Davey.”

“Yeah sure it is,” you said, waving your hand carelessly. “Race you to the slide, Les!”

The little boy laughed and sprinted to the slide. You giggled as you watched him go before turning to his older brother. “So, how long does he have to play today?”

David crossed his arms and walked with you to the swing set beside the slide. “I wanted thirty minutes, but Mom said we were spending too much time inside so we have to stay out for at least an hour today,” he explained.

You nodded and sat on one of the swings. Slowly, you let your legs rock back and forth till you started swinging. David sat in the swing next to you and took out his book.

“Davey, come play with us! We’s gonna play tag,” Les said when he walked over to you two.

“Oh, that would be fun! Tag is so much better with three people than two. Right, Davey?” You pulled the book out of his hands and put it in his bag. “Come play with your brother and his girl.”

David frowned and adjusted his cap. “Fine. One round and then I’m going back to reading,” he mumbled and stood up.

“Awesome,” you smiled. “Nose goes!” You and Les quickly touched the end of your noses with your finger while David stood confused. “Looks like Davey’s ‘It’ first! Ready?”

Les nodded and got into a running position. “Set! Go!” The two of you ran off in different directions.

“Hey, wait! Shouldn’t we go over the rules before you run off like that?” David asked as he ran towards Les.

About two hours later, the three of you had finished your game. “Wow, Davey. I gotta say, you don’t strike me as a sprinter. Could’ve sworn it was a pair of noodles under those pants,” you laughed and elbowed his side.

David let a small smile grace his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, Y/N. Honestly didn’t think you’d be able to outrun me so many times.”

“Well it wasn’t easy, let me tell ya,” you smiled.

“Wasn’t easy on my part, either,” the boy laughed.

“Davey! Quit tryin’ ta steal my goil,” Les said, standing before you two.

Both you and David blushed; your cheeks turning a light shade of red. “Les! I’m not—we’re—just—no,” David somehow managed to get out.

The little boy grabbed your hand and dragged you to the monkey bars. “Y/N is my goil, Davey! Get yer own!”

You laughed at David’s shocked expression and pulled Les to a halt. “Hey, bud. I’d love to keep playing, but I’ve actually got to get home now. I’ve got to make dinner for my Dad.”

Les frowned and threw his arms around your waist. “Aww, okay. Ise see you tomorrow?” Les asked.

You hugged him back. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to see if I have plans.”

“Well, here.” You turned, letting go of Les, to see David standing in front of you holding out his phone. ���Why don’t you put your number in here and we can let you know when we’re free tomorrow. Then maybe our times will match up,” David explained.

You smiled and took his phone, putting in your information. “Sounds like a plan, Davey.” You handed it back to him. “Text me so I get your number and I’ll talk to you guys later!” With a small wave, you ran down the street back home.

Later that night, you got a call from your Dad.

“Hey, Y/N. Listen, I’m so sorry but they’re keeping me for the late shift again tonight,” he said through the phone.

You nodded as you finished whipping the mashed potatoes. “That’s fine, Dad. I’ll keep your dinner in the fridge so you can heat it up when you get home.”

He sighed. “Thanks, Sweetie. Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own? I can always tell them I can’t.”

“Dad, you know we need the money. Plus, you might not even get called out tonight. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to just sleep through your shift,” you smiled and got out a plate for yourself.

Your Dad laughed. “That would be awesome.” You could hear the sound of a firetrucks horn going off. “Shit. Just got a call. I’ll talk to you later, Y/N. Call me if you need anything! Love you!” And with that, he hung up.

Sighing, you whispered, “Love you, too,” before putting the phone on the table. You quietly filled your plate and sat at the table. Before you started eating, your phone buzzed.

Unknown: Hey, Y/N. It’s David.

You smiled at his appropriate use of grammar before replying.

Y/N: hi Davey. so my dad wont be hanging with me tomorrow so im free to go to the park whenever

Davey: Oh, alright. How about the same time as today?

Y/N: sounds great! ill c u then!

For the next few weeks, you would meet up with Davi—Davey and Les at the park and hang out for a few hours before heading home for dinner. Your Dad had been too busy at the Fire Station to come home most nights, so you entertained yourself with long texts conversations with Davey. Nowadays, you two would Skype during dinner so your conversations could become more in depth. Of course, they would continue at the park the next day.

You two soon became close friends as you shared everything together. Hopes, dreams, books, songs, really anything that popped into your mind you shared.

Even the story of your Mother.

“Y/N…I’m so sorry,” Davey said when you first told him. Les was off playing with some friends around his age so you two sat alone on top of the monkey bars.

You wiped your eyes and forced out a smile. “It’s fine, really. It’s not like it’s your fault or anything. That’s why my Dad became a Firefighter. He didn’t want anyone to loose their loved ones in the same way we did,” you explained and bit your lip, holding back a sob.

Davey frowned and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t hold it in. It’ll only make you hurt. It’s okay. I’ll hold you ‘till you’re done,” he whispered.

Your heart clenched at his kind words. You felt your eyes water. Gripping his shirt tightly, you let the tears pour. All the while, Davey rubbed your back, telling you it was okay and that he’s got you. Eventually, you finished and pulled away from him. “Thanks for that,” you said.

Davey smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

At the moment, you knew you had fallen in love with David “Davey” Jacobs.

You saw him. You saw him. You saw him. So, you smiled back.

And in that moment, David “Davey” Jacobs fell in love with you.

He saw you. He saw you. He saw you.

“MOM!”

Bolting out of bed in a cold sweat, you tried your best to steady your breathing. It had been a few weeks since you told Davey the story. Dreams of your Mom and what happened that unfortunate night were coming back to haunt you.

This dream, though, was the most realistic one yet.

Scrambling through the darkness, you reached for your phone to call your Dad. It was who you usually called when you woke up from these dreams. Shaking, you typed “DA” into your phone and pressed the call button. You didn’t wait for your Dad to say “hello” after he picked up before you started to explain what had happened.

“Dad, this dream was so realistic! It was like I could feel the flames! I saw her! I tried to reach out for her but she wouldn’t grab on! I tried going back in for her but they wouldn’t let me! They wouldn’t let me, Dad! I was right there! She was so close and—“

“Y/N!”

The voice brought you to a halt. That wasn’t your Dads voice.

“D-Davey?”

“Y/N, are you okay? What’s going on?” Davey asked. You could hear him rustling in the background. “Do you need help?”

“O-Oh, Davey. I’m so sorry! I meant to call my Dad but I guess your name popped up first,” you explained and sniffed.

“Y/N, meet me at the park in ten, okay? I’m already on my way there,” the eldest Jacobs said. You heard a door slam shut and sneakers slapping pavement.

“O-Okay,” you whispered and got your shoes on. “I’ll see you then.”

You spotted Davey sitting at the top of the slide. Hugging your sides, you trudged over to him. “Hey,” you mumbled and climbed up next to him.

He smiled. “Hey.” Davey opened his arms for you to which you gladly accepted, snuggling into his side. “You okay?”

Shaking your head, you replied. “No. I’m not. I’m so sorry, Davey. I’m sorry I woke you up at two in the morning I should’ve made sure it was actually my Dad when—“

“Stop, Y/N,” Davey said, looking down at you. “That doesn’t matter. What does is what happened. So…what happened?”

You sat up a bit so you two were eye level. “I…I had a nightmare…about my Mom.”

Davey sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help you. I’ve read books to try to see if I could but so far nothings come up and I know your Dad is rarely home and—“

“Wait,” you interrupted. “You were trying to find stuff to help me?”

The boy blushed lightly. “Yeah, I was. Les actually told me you were having trouble sleeping when he saw the bags under your eyes one day. I kinda pieced it together with your Mom and tried to see if there was a simple way to solve it.”

Your heart soared at the thought of Davey trying to help you. Leaning forward and blaming your exhaustion for your actions, you whispered out a quick “Thank you” before planting your lips onto his.

As unprepared as he was, Davey only took a few seconds to kiss you back. He cupped your cheek in one hand while using the other on the small of your back to pull you closer. You softly tangled one hand in his hair and used the other to steady yourself, holding his bicep.

After a few blissful moments, you two pulled away. You opened your eyes to see Davey staring at you with a look you’ve only seen in movies. You couldn’t help but place a chaste kiss to his lips because of it.

Neither of you said a word, afraid of ruining the moment. Hands intertwined, you both made your way off the slide and walked back to your house. You two went upstairs to your room, removed your shoes, and climbed into bed. After one more short and sweet kiss, Davey pulled you into his chest and hugged you close.

For the first time in that week, you fell asleep with a smile on your face. Your night was nightmare free as he held you.

The next day, you and Davey walked to the park together to meet with Les.

“Davey! Where’d ya go? Mom wouldn’ tell me what yer note said,” the little Jacobs exclaimed as he saw you two approach. One quick glance at your hands caused Les to smirk. “Ya went ‘nd stole my goil, huh?”

Davey laughed and squeezed your hand. “I guess I did. Sorry, Les.”

“Probably for ta best. I got goils linin’ up just ta talk ta me, now,” Les smiled and ran off to where a group of young girls waited for him.

You laughed and faced Davey. “Your little brothers gonna have a ton of girl problems.”

Davey smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Good thing I only have the one to deal with,” he teased.

You laughed and pulled him down for a kiss.

From then on, Davey made sure he was always there when you slept. And if he couldn’t stay the whole night, he would at least make sure you fell asleep peacefully before he left. Your Dad was okay with him staying over because 1) Davey made you happy and 2) He knew Davey was too shy to even think about trying anything until after you two got married.

It was no surprise when Davey first said “I love you” right before you drifted off to sleep, this night in his house. Your eyes sprung back open.

“Oh my gosh I messed up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve known it was too soon. We’ve only been dating for like two months and—“

“Davey, hey,” you smiled and kissed him. “I love you, too.”

The boy smiled and pulled you tight, kissing the top of your head. He then made sure to tell you he loved you at least five times a day so that you would never forget.

In conclusion, David “Davey” Jacobs was never one to love something with all his heart. Except Les, of course. He’d normally just really enjoy things or maybe have a little crush on someone but nothing more.

That was, until he saw you.

And that’s when David “Davey” Jacobs fell in love with Y/N Y/L/N.

[authoressskr]

Give and Take

So, I had an odd sort of dream the other night and it helped shape this fic. This is unbeta’d and probably not all in one tense, but I had to get it all typed out!Hope you all enjoy it even if parts don’t make sense sometimes - I is sometimes not so good with the words...

This is a Castiel x Reader AU fic and it had some language (i think) and mentions of character death and some abandonment kinda mentioned.

Tagging the usual people I like to bother...

@lyndsay88 @sdavid09 @lucis-unicorn @thewhiterabbit42 @mamaredd123

Returning to your hometown, with a six-year-old in tow, was not ever in your immediate plans.

Lawrence, Kansas had always held a special place in your heart. You had grown up here. Fell in love for the first time here. But when a job offer had come from California for your mother, just after graduating high school, you’d gone with her simply because she was the only family you had and you had never been apart for more than a couple weeks.

But life has a funny way of giving and taking.

It took your save haven - the only place you could actually remember growing up - but gave you Eileen Leahy, who was the best friend you could have ever asked for. Eileen and you met the first day of college, English 101. She’d been delighted to find someone who knew sign language, even if only enough to get through a short conversation, but you had scribbled down on the paper with your cell number and room assignment that you were willing to learn more.

Your friendship blossomed. Or as your mother put it “Overtook the garden like ivy.” You two were like sisters, subtle sarcasm and movie quotes galore. Both of you had been born in one place and relocated to another, you: California to Kansas and Eileen: Ireland to California. Eileen was simply the best person you had ever met in your life.

So, when she had called you that rainy California night, asking you to hurry and come over, you had done so without hesitation. And when she held that little plastic stick up, with its little blue plus sign, you let out a squeal of joy. Eileen would be a wonderful mother! But she just looked at you with sad eyes, signing ‘What if I can’t hear my own baby cry at night?’

’Other deaf parents do it all the time, all over the world. You will do awesome. I expect nothing less from Eileen Leahy.’ You sign back, a wide grin tugging on your face.

And just like that, your worlds changed. You both moved into a new apartment, two bedrooms and a small “den” that would serve you well until the baby went to school at least. Her boyfriend, Eric, would take her to appointments and for the ones he couldn’t get off from work, you went.

You cried when you first heard her heartbeat.

Eric died in a car accident when Eileen was five months along. Drunk driver plowed straight into him. But Eileen was strong, making the funeral arrangements since he had no family.

She’d crawl into your bed on particularly hard nights, scooting until her back was pressed against yours before sighing and falling asleep.

It was September 24th, 2011 when life gave you Madeline Leahy and September 26th, 2011 is when it took Eileen from the two of you.

Eileen had, of course, prepared for any and every eventually. You’d gone to court and with no blood relatives able to claim her - and Eileen’s will and legal papers - you were legally able to adopt her less than two weeks after she’d been born.

Thankful to have your mother to help, you raised Madeline as your own. When she cooed out “mama” for the first time, you cried. And your happy life was upturned again, just after February 2014, when your mother died in a car accident.

And after a few more years at your well-paying job, you gave your two-week notice, loaded up your sensible three row mid-size SUV and headed back home to Lawrence, Kansas. Better schools for Madeline and a visit to the familiar was what you needed after these last few years.

Pulling into town, you realized how much has changed and how little has changed. You typed in the address to your new home, realizing it was actually just a handful of houses away from where the Winchesters and Novaks had once lived. You wondered briefly if they still lived there before Madeline let out a squeal from the backseat.

“Is that our new house, Mommy?”

“Yes, it is, squidgy! Ready to see it?”

“Yes!” A little pause, her little feet swinging and gently hitting the edge of her booster seat. “Who’s that lady?”

“That’s Jo. I went to school with her and she found our house for us.” You pull into the driveway, next to Jo’s very nice, very new truck. Freeing Madeline is relatively easy and you grab your purse before handing her the soft, periwinkle bunny that Eileen had bought the day after she’d found out she was pregnant. “Don’t forget Poppy.” Madeline tugs the bunny from your grip and hugs it tight to her chest, giving you a nervous smile.

“Hi, Y/N! And you must be Madeline!” Madeline held out her little hand, shaking Jo’s bigger one firmly.

“Madeline Leahy-Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Joanna Beth Harvelle, but you can call me Jo. And it is very lovely to meet you as well. Very good hand shake.”

“Thank you.” Madeline takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. Jo hands you two plain silver keys and pulls another from her pocket that is purple with lime green and lighter purple polka dots all over it.

“Here are the keys to your new home!”

“Go ahead, squidgy.” You urge, letting your daughter use her very own key to open the front door. “Thank you.” You whisper to Jo, who just smiled reassuringly as Madeline pushes open the thick mahogany wood.

“This place is huge!”

“Go on and explore then.” Her little feet scurry from the entryway towards the dining room/kitchen. “Thanks again, Jo. I know it’s difficult enough selling a house when the person lives in town or nearby, but states away? You’re amazing.”

“Thanks, but it’s all part of my job. And it was nice to help an old friend, bring them home.” Jo follows you into the kitchen, her smile widening as you sigh happily at the large space. “Oh - this basket has some fudge, cupcakes, and scones from Gabriel Novak’s bakery and café Heaven Sent.”

“Mom, is the really big room - can I have a cupcake?”

“Sure honey, but just one please. And yes, the really big room is mine.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Call or text if you need anything. I sent you all the paperwork, but I’ve left your originals in the dark green folder under the goodie basket.” Jo gives your forearm a squeeze. “And brace yourself for the neighbors and casseroles.”

Four hours, six neighbors, three casseroles, and one pot roast later you manage to set up both your and Madeline’s beds and got most of her room set up by the time the next visitor rang their doorbell.

“COMING!” You and Madeline yell in tandem, pushing up from your seated position on the floor, sorting through all her clothes as she put them away in her drawers. Thank the Lord for Jo, who had let the movers in the day before. You pad downstairs, running a hand through your hair before putting on a smile and opening the front door.

“Welcome to the neighborhood! I’m Mary Winchester and this is my husband John. We live -”

“Five houses down. Sorry. I just, uh, I grew up here. I remember your sons. They were all a little older than me. I’m Y/N Y/L/N and this is my daughter Madeline.”

“Oh! Of course! John, you remember Y/N, the one the Novak twins had a crush on when they were little?”

“Yeah, of course. The one who cried over the snails and punched Lucifer.”

“Mommy, you aren’t supposed to hit.”

“No, honey, you’re right. You shouldn’t hit. But I did it a long time ago and I had my reasons.” Madeline blinks big brown eyes up at you then shrugs.

“I’m not much of a cook, so I didn’t bring you anything edible. I brought some apple cinnamon candles and a coupon for the garage if you ever have any car troubles.”

“Wow, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester.”

“Of course! And just know that we’re just a few houses away if you need anything. Is your husband at work?”

“It’s just Mommy and me.” Madeline answers, opening the lid of one of the two medium-sized candles and sniffing.

“Well, in that case, you need anything done just call me, I’ll run over to the house and jot down our numbers, and we’ll get one of the boys to come help.”

“Okie dokie! I’ll post them on the fridge. Thank you, Mary.”

---

Three days later, Madeline woke you up bright and early, a good hour before your alarm was due to do off.

You had gotten up, got your shower first then shooed Madeline into the shower. As soon as she got out, you could hear her shuffling around in her room. She picked her own outfit, a dark gray shirt with white sparkly angel wings on the back and a pair of red skinny jeans. And you laughed when she came into your room, since you were sporting maroon skinny jeans and a dark gray shirt.

’Copycat.’ You sign, smirking at your daughter.

’You copied me!’ Her little fingers danced before she stuck out her tongue.

“Got your backpack ready? Whatcha want for lunch?”

“PB and J!” Once downstairs, you made her sandwich while she flitted around and gathered a couple snacks to add to her light gray kitty lunchbox.

“Okay! So, since we are early, do you want me to make a big breakfast - pancakes, eggs and some sausage - or would you like to go down to Heaven Sent and get some cocoa and breakfast sandwiches?”

“Heaven Sent! Can we get me a cupcake for lunch too?”

“We’ll see if they have a small box for them to go. If they don’t, we’ll get you one next time. I still can’t find the box with the plastic ware, and I think the cupcake holder is in there.”

“Okay. We’ll look through some more boxes when I get home.” She says so matter-of-factly, tucking her lunchbox into her galaxy print backpack with a tiny, cute, cartoon unicorns on the front pocket. 

“Got your key?” She nods. “Okay, you want your hair up, down, half-up?”

“A messy bun?”

“Can do! Go grab the brush and the pink mason jar with the hair ties and bobby pins from the bathroom then we’ll head out.” Her little bare feet don’t make too much noise as they climb the carpeted stairs and it reminds you to shout up after her. “Socks too!”

“I shoved the socks in the hair jar.” She pants out, rejoining you in the kitchen. You lift her up onto the barstool, brushing her long brown hair before pulling it into a messy bun, braiding a long spare piece you’d left out and wrapping it around the base of her messy bun.

“Ta-da! Okay, lets grab our socks and shoes.” You sat side by side on the little antique bench, pulling on your socks and shoes before grabbing your purse and Madeline her backpack.

“Can we walk? Like yesterday?”

“Yeah, we got the time today.”

A short ten-minute walk got you downtown and another few minutes got you to an offshoot of Main Street where Heaven Sent was located. The space is big enough for five big tables, a couple of booths, and a half dozen two-seater café tables. The bakery is open from 5 am to 6 pm and offers almost every delicious thing anyone could dream up. When you walked in, you were assaulted with the wonderful scent of coffee and an underlying smell of cinnamon.

“Can you read the signs?” You ask softly, scanning through the options.

“I can read, Mom.”

“I meant can you see it, Miss Sassypants.” A deep chuckle behind you draws your attention, making you turn to look over your shoulder. And you suck in a sharp breath. You’d know that face - those sapphire eyes - anywhere.

“Good morning.” His voice rumbles out, smiling at you.

“Good morning, Castiel.”

“Y/N?! Wow. It’s been - it’s been forever. When did you move back?” You turn to face him fully, only to be suddenly wrapped in his embrace, his scent still the same as all those years before. All those other embraces, sweet words and stolen kisses. The feel of his body claiming yours for the first time. His last whispered “I love you” before you left.

Funny how much more you had in common with his family now. Chuck Shurley had adopted all his sister, Amara Novak’s, children and raised them as his own. After she had come for a visit one day with five-year-old Michael, four-year-old Lucifer, and nearly two-year-old Gabriel - she had simply told Chuck it was too much, too hard and they needed stability. So, she left her three sons with her brother. And every time she got pregnant after that, she’d appear at Chuck’s home with her baby - or babies as was the case when the twins, Balthazar and Castiel - only to disappear a day or so later after all the paperwork was signed.

Not identical but similar. You both now had children you loved more than anything through circumstances you never saw coming.

“Mommy. The line’s moving.”

“Sorry,” You excuse yourself to the two people behind Cas, pulling yourself from his embrace reluctantly. “Sorry Madeline.” You step forward in the line, just one person from the register now. “Oh, um, yeah, it’s been awhile. I just moved back a few days ago. Wanted better schools for Madeline.” You put a hand on her upper back, her little hand shooting out. “Castiel, this is my daughter Madeline. Madeline, this is Castiel Novak, we grew up together.” Cas takes her tiny hand in his, shaking it very seriously.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madeline.”

“Thank you, Cat - Cas, Castiel. That’s a hard name.”

“You can call me Cas, most people do.”

“Can I help - IS THAT Y/N?!” Gabriel shouts from the register, making you whip around, a grin stretched across your face.

“Gabriel!” He’s already around the counter, pulling you into a crushing hug.

“You know the cupcake man?!” Madeline gasps out in wonder. Gabriel releases you, but keeps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a firm squeeze.

“That she does, little sugar cube. I’m Gabriel.”

“Madeline.” She extends her hand again and Gabriel drops his arm to kneel on one knee, grasping her small hand in his.

“Very pretty name. Now, what can I get you two pretty ladies?” He slides back behind the counter, rubbing his hands together.

“We will have two medium cocoas and I will have a cranberry white chocolate scone and you, squidgy?”

“I want a blueberry muffin. Do you make cupcake holders?” She ordered and asked all in one breath and Gabriel chuckled.

“I can absolutely get you a cupcake to go. What kind?”

“Strawberry!”

“Done!” You pull your debit card from your wallet and Gabriel scoffs. “You ate everything I made when we were little, even if it was weird. Your money is worthless in this establishment.”

“Gabriel...”

“Nope. Won’t hear of it! Now, shoo, I have other customers. Hey Cas. The usual?” You guide Madeline towards one of the corner café tables by a wall of books, all having to do with food.

“You know lots of people here, Mom.”

“I grew up here, so I do know some people. But not lots.” You chuckle, fishing through your purse for your little notebook. You pull a pen from an inside pocket and scribble down what you’ve ordered (you’d keep track, even if Gabriel wouldn’t), before turning the page and tapping the pen against it as Cas nervously approached the table.

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course, Cas.”

“How have you been? Where have you been? California?” Madeline looks from you to Cas before tugging the notebook and pen from under your fingertips.

“Yeah, I’ve been in California since I left here. Uh, I’ve been good. Really good. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. I teach second grade at Lawrence Elementary now. Do you have a job yet? Or maybe your husband does?” Gabriel appears at the table with a tray, three drinks, a muffin, a scone and a bacon breakfast sandwich.

“Smooth, little brother. Real smooth.” Gabriel mutters loudly, making Castiel blush slightly, dropping his gaze to the tray.

“I’m not married. And no, not yet. I was going to start looking today while Madeline is in school.”

“Ooh, call Dean, Cassie! They need someone to run the office now that Missouri is moving. Do you know how to do that?”

“Mommy helped run the office at her old job. She could do that!”

“Perfect! We’ll get you and Castiel off to school then I’ll take Mommy to the Winchesters and we’ll be all set!”

“We met them! They live by us!” Madeline is nearly vibrating in her seat as she talks to Gabriel.

“Awesome. That means you live by my dad too! Okay, now you eat, I’ll go package up a strawberry cupcake and I’ll walk with you guys to school.” He doesn’t wait for agreement or an argument, he just winds his way through the tables to the back.

“I’m sorry about Gabriel. He is -”

“He hasn’t changed a bit.” You get out between light laughter. Today has certainly been one for the books. “It’s fine. Really.” You place your hand on Cas’s forearm, gripping the tan trench coat briefly before removing your hand to eat. Cas nods and digs into his sandwich before peering over at Madeline.

“What are you writing?”

“My name. And Mommy’s name. And then I drew this cupcake.”

“It’s a very nice cupcake.”

“It’s just black, ‘cause I didn’t have no other colors.”

“Still very lovely. Are you done? May I take your trash?”

“Thank you.” You and Madeline say in tandem, smiling at each other.

’Copycat.’ She signs, sticking out her tongue. Cas and Gabriel join you, Gabriel extending a small clear container with a bright pink cupcake with sparkly pink icing with a neon blue “M” on top of it.

“There you are, Miss Madeline.” You stood, putting your notebook and pen back into your purse, grabbing your cup as you watched your daughter set her backpack onto the table, withdrawing her lunch box and gingerly setting the cupcake on the top of her sandwich, rearranging her banana to lay against the cupcake container and putting the two bags of Disney fruit gummies on top. She carefully zipped the lunch box, settling it back into her backpack.

“Okay. We can go now.”

“You sound like your mom when we were little. Oh, little sugar snap, the stories I could tell you!” Cas’s hand is gentle, barely there, against the middle of your back, Madeline in front of you as Gabriel holds the door.

“What kind of stories?”

“All kinds.” Cas confirms, sticking close to the outside of the sidewalk. Gabriel launches into a story when you were five and they saw you walking around and asked if you wanted to play at the park. You said you weren’t playing - you were collecting dinosaur eggs. Which were just large rocks that were more egg-shaped. Cas and Gadreel had been more than willing to help, only for their other brother, Michael to come over and matter-of-factly tell all three of you that dinosaurs were extinct. And you had told him that Jurassic Park said they were alive again and he couldn’t have one.

“Your mom kept the “eggs” in the sun, kept them all together and lovingly checked on them all the time, hoping they’d hatch and she’d have a dinosaur or two.” The school is in sight now, Madeline laughing at the story.

”I’m still upset I never hatched a dinosaur,” You mutter, tossing your empty cup into a nearby trash can before crossing the road to the school. The four of you make your way to the kindergarten building, you take a quick tour of the room, meeting Madeline’s teacher and leaving her the Emergency Contact packet you had picked up from the school a couple days ago, all while Gabriel and Cas wait just outside.

“Have a great first day. I love you, my squidgy.” You kiss her forehead, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll be back to pick you up at 1. Okay?” You kiss her again before the first school bell rings. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mommy. I’ll see you later.” She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she bounds over to her assigned seat, you back out of the room slowly, watching as her teacher closes the door as the second bell sounds. You manage a short wave before it closes completely, the tears spilling silently from your eyes.

Castiel’s scent envelopes you, his arm wind around you, pulling you against his side. You stand there for a few minutes in silence before another bell rings out.

“I have to go to work. But I’ll see you later, Y/N.” His blue eyes are kind, just as kind as they’ve always been. “It’s been nice seeing you again.” You turn towards him, hugging him as tightly as he first did.

“Have a good day, Castiel. I was glad to see you too.”

“Alright, alright. Stop hogging her!” He jokes as Cas and you separate, Gabriel taking your hand and leading you from the school grounds.

---

John readily agreed to your employment (after seeing your resume - the man wasn’t born yesterday), thankful to have someone who Missouri likes and feels is competent enough to handle not just the garage’s paperwork but also Bobby Singer’s auto salvage yard as well. John also added that he’d let you have time off to pick Madeline up and she could stay up in the office til the workday was over. You nearly burst out in tears again.

“Thank you, John.” You throw your arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. You were like family growing up and now you got your own family to take care of.” He wraps one arm around you, giving a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “You start tomorrow, 8 am. You give all your paperwork to Missouri?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Gabriel is a smirking mess when you exit the garage before tapping his cheek.

“I think I deserve it.” You roll your eyes, but kiss his cheek regardless.

“Thank you, Gabriel. Really. You’re awesome.”

“I know.” He claps his hands then rubs them together. “Okie dokie, hot stuff, I’m gonna head back to work now. But feel free to drop by anytime, Y/N.” He waggles his eyebrows before blowing you a kiss as he starts back towards his bakery.

Taking a deep breath, you head home. Certainly, today had not turned out like you had thought today would go at all...

---

Two weeks later, now settled into your new house and getting the routine you’d set up the second day of school down pat, you drove to the Lawrence Animal Shelter to deliver on your promise to get Madeline a kitten.

To be fair, you had thought maybe with school, moving and the weekly trips on Saturday afternoons to Heaven Sent (Gabriel was always happy to spoil Madeline with whatever sweet she wanted - and a few she had reluctantly tried at his behest) that maybe, just maybe, she’d temporarily forgotten.

Luck was not on your side, since the night before she had slid up onto a stool in the kitchen, watching you pull the two trays blueberry muffins from the oven, a serious expression in her light brown eyes.

“Mommy. Remember before we moved? You said when we go a new house and I started school, I could get a kitty?”

“I remember.”

“Can we go tomorrow and get one? Pretty please? You promised, ‘member?”

“Okay. Okay. We’ll go tomorrow morning and give some muffins to Gabriel and we’ll go look for a kitten.” You gently free the first six muffins from the pan, setting them on the counter to cool. “Now, squidgy, you know you gotta take care of it. Clean its litter box - make sure it doesn’t chew or tear up things it shouldn’t - and make sure to feed it, brush it and play with it.”

“I will! I can do it!” You sigh, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright. First bring me my laptop so we can read over what we’ll need to do and need to go buy. And when we go, we can ask about veterinarians in the area and stuff. I’m not promising you a kitten tomorrow, Madeline - you understand that, honey? Sometimes it takes a little while to find the one that’s just right.” She nods enthusiastically, her long brown hair swinging as she slides down from the stool and rushes into the little office/library down the hall.

You exit the car, opening the back door to release your child, who is talking a million miles a minute, saying potential names and looking at the list you had printed out for her, saying that the kitten needed a pink bed or maybe a red one, or that she would like a black cat, like in Hocus Pocus. You wrap your wallet around your wrist by the thin leather strap and take Madeline’s left hand in your right, silently steeling yourself for either coming home with another tiny life or to face the disappointment on your daughter’s face when it doesn’t happen today.

No one is at the front desk, so you call out a loud “Hello”, watching as a bright red-headed woman comes in carrying a big black cat.

“I’m sorry! I was in the Cattery and didn’t hear the door jingle. My name is Charlie Bradbury, how may I be of assistance?”

“We need a kitty.” Madeline pipes up beside you.

“Is this your first kitty or do you have another one?”

“It’s our first.” You supply.

“Well congratulations on deciding to become pet parents! Now, animals are a lot of responsibility, but you two look very responsible. Come on, I‘ll show you to the Cattery.” She leads the way down a short hallway, Madeline tightening her hold on your hand momentarily before walking cautiously into the room behind Charlie, you follow and close the door firmly behind you. “So, I’ll pull out a few of the kittens first - we got them three weeks ago and they’re all ready to go to good homes.” The door opens behind you, but you don’t really pay too much attention, watching as Charlie sets down the big black cat and lets five little kittens of all colors tumble out of the large clear cubicle they were in.

“Hello, Y/N.” Sweet Jesus, the man was everywhere. You turn, a smile already gracing your face.

“Hello, Castiel. What are you doing here?”

“He volunteers here! Ooooooh! So, you’re Y/N! Cas hasn’t shut up about you since you moved back!” She embraces you as heat fills your cheeks. “This is great! I wanted to meet you! Dean was talking about you too! How well you run the office! How cute you are!” Charlie releases you from her hold, her green eyes dancing as she chuckles, moving to sit cross legged on the floor next to Madeline. Madeline is too involved with the kittens to pay you much attention, she just turns with a white kitten clutched gently against her chest and calls out a hello to Cas before another gray kitten crawls into her lap, making itself at home and falling asleep as Madeline strokes it with her free hand. Cas stoops down in front of you, picking up an errant kitten.

“I apologize for Charlie. She is very,” He gives a long pause, “Enthusiastic.”

“No need to apologize. Gabriel and you had both mentioned Charlie, so I‘m glad to put a friendly face to the stories.”

“Is the black cat the mom?”

“No. Their mom died. She was trying to take care of her kittens and got hurt. They wouldn’t eat the first couple days until we brought Luna in.” She points to the large black cat who is sitting by your feet while a little black and white kitten is batting at her tail. “Luna adopted them and took care of them, showed them how to be good kitties. The little gray one in your lap usually sticks to her like glue. The other kittens are very indep - are you okay sweetie?” Charlie’s voice goes from forlorn to concerned.

Madeline looks up at you with watery eyes while Charlie’s have an edge of panic.

‘Like me and you, Mommy.’ You tear up too, nodding.

’Exactly like me and you, baby.’ You sign back and say aloud, to give Charlie and Cas a little context for the sudden emotional outburst.

“I suppose we can’t separate them then...”

“Really, Mommy?!” She scrubs at her eyes with her sleeve before carefully setting the white kitten down and throwing herself against you. Cas grasps your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. You hadn’t told Cas the story about you, Eileen and Madeline yet - you felt it was too soon. You had simply stated one day when he had come to the garage at lunch - for his regular Thursday lunch with Dean - that he was great with Madeline, maybe because of their similar backgrounds.

Charlie sniffles, rising from her seated position with a kind smile.

“If you follow me, we’ll fill out the paperwork and you can take Luna and your new kitten home. Have you thought of a name?” Charlie leads Madeline out, winking at you as the door closes behind her, Madeline’s arms holding the gray kitten and Charlie’s with Luna.

“I could go with you, if you like - to make sure the cats have everything they require. And then maybe we could all go to lunch?” His cheeks turn a light pink as he set the kitten he’d been holding onto a carpeted climbing post.

“I’d love to. We’d love to. And maybe you’d like to come over for dinner?”

“Like a date?”

“Yes, Castiel.”

“I’d love that. Maybe you would like to come over for Family Dinner Night tomorrow? The Winchesters and the Singers and us, we all have dinner Sunday night... Tomorrow we’re having it at our house. Would you consider coming?” You raise up, pressing your lips against his.

“Sounds good. Madeline already loves John, Dean, Bobby, Gabriel and you. I think it’d be nice for her to meet everyone else I grew up with.”

“As my girlfriend - uh, date - as my guests?”

“Let’s start with date. We can work our way up to boyfriend and girlfriend.” Cas swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his hands reach out, cupping your face and kissing you passionately.

“I’ve waited for a long time to do that again.”

“Mmhmm. You’ll have to work a little harder than last time to get to do the other thing though.” You grin against his lips, happily leaning against his firm body.

“I am nothing if not a patient man.” A firm knock on the glass pulls you from your little bubble. Madeline is pointing at you then at Cas, then to your feet. You pull away from Castiel and sign ’Yes’

’Luna and my kitten!’ Her fingers bob towards her hand as she looks to Castiel again. ‘Are you guys gonna kiss more?’

’Probably.’

’Gross.’

“She wants to sign the papers and pay so we can go.”

“And?” He rumbles out, moving away to carefully put the rest of the kittens back into their large cubicle.

“She asked if we were going to kiss more. I told her probably.”

“Just probably?”

“You play your cards right, it’ll be more than probably.”

Funny how life worked out.

[otp-is-at-it-again]

11 Questions

Rules: 1. Always post the rules 2. Answer the questions given to you by the person who tagged you 3. Write 11 questions of your own 4. Tag 11 people I was tagged by @crookedlovestory ! Thanks so much for tagging me! I love answering questions aha ♪( ´▽｀) Emily's Questions: 1. what tv show are you currently bingeing? who are your favorite characters? Um I'm not watching anything currently cause I'm on vacation, but the last show I binge watched was the Flash. I'd have to say my fav characters are between Barry, Iris, and Cisco. Barry cause he's cute and dorky at times, Iris because of her determination and friendly nature, and Cisco because of the puns :^) and overall that he can play both the clown and show everyone up with a scientific explanation for happenings 2. what is your guilty pleasure? Russel Stouffer eggs hhhh. I only get them if they go on sale, around the holidays, and even then it's not always easy so get my favorite flavors (because they sell out quick when cheap enough). My favorites are red velvet, truffle, and coconut cream. 3. what’s your biggest character flaw? (just being me in general) Um I'd have to say my depression is probably the biggest flaw I have currently. It comes up when people (my parents) yell at me, because I'm trying my best but even that never seems to be good enough. And when I get into that state I shut down physically, and mentally loop on the negatives on how useless I am as a person. It usually also comes up when I'm in a stressful situation, for ex when I'm overloaded with school and social and home problems at the same time. Though recently I've noticed I get it at random times now too, so idk. I just go along with it at this point. 4. did you have an imaginary friend as a kid? what were they like? what was their name? Ha.. Yeah I had an imaginary friend, when I was a little on the older side of childhood (middle school), though there's kind of a backstory to him. I was ahead of the curve with relationships amongst my friends, starting as early as 5th grade (compared to most who started in 7th or 8th). But the ones I had at the time sucked because the guy got bored or stopped caring or was too far away for anything to happen. I tried to move onto other guys, but when I tried to ask them out (yes I was /that/ kind of person) I always got rejected. Of course to my friends I played it off as no big deal, but each time I got rejected, each time after I asked a guy out he would ignore me like I wasn't even there despite us having classes together, it got to me and wore me down. So to compensate I guess my overactive imagination came up with the "perfect guy" so I wouldn't have to worry about being rejected any more, because he would always be there for me.. His name was Marcus. He's Japanese/White mix, about 6 feet tall with a slight muscular build. I used to have trouble sleeping at night because of the insecurities that built up after the rejections, after seeing my other friends have successful relationships so easily despite how much effort I put into starting my own and being shot down.. But in those times- again my overactive imagination came into play- I felt a presence on me that I manifested into Marcus, so that I could imagine someone being there with me, someone who could comfort me and make me feel like everything would be okay. For a while that helped, but it got out of control pretty quickly. Into high school I stopped imagining things like that, or having dreams about him and I, where I could experience a healthy relationship. At that point I gave up on trying to have a relationship, and figured it would be easier just to fill in that spot on Facebook so people would stop bugging me about finding someone. So I made a Facebook account under his name, Marcus Takahashi (I deleted the actual account, but I made a fictional character page that a lot of people have begun to like recently ?) and made it look like we were in a relationship. What I didn't expect was my mother-like friends to come on and start asking a bunch of questions like 'how did you two meet?' and 'where are you from?' and other informational stuff that I didn't want to answer so suddenly.. so I just knocked it off and told people it was just a joke. After that I ditched the idea of Marcus as my imaginary friend and adopted him more an an original character. So he's still around, it's just the context of his character is different now. 5. if you could tell your past self anything, what would it be? Don't fret so much over relationships. That is by far the most destructive thing you can do so early in life (at least speaking from my past experiences). If you express interest in someone and they don't put as much effort as you do into maintaining the relationship, drop them right then and there. It isn't worth the emotional and mental stress of blaming yourself for things you're not even at fault at. Just focus on the friendships you have and things will work out fine in the end. 6. what’s your favorite flower? why? ohh hmm. I think the plumeria would be one of my favorites. My grandma used to have a yellow plant in her backyard, near her pool, and I always thought it was the prettiest thing.. And as I got older and my family and I took walks around the neighborhood, I noticed a lot of people had them in their yards in a bunch of different colors. I think nowadays my favorite one of that species is the pink plumeria because it looks and smells really nice. 7. recommend one of your favorite books. what is it about? why do you recommend it? Boy oh boy. I have a lot of favorite books, but recently my favorite has been Ready Player One by Ernest Cline. The pov from the main character is nerdy and dorky, but relatable a lot of the time. Plus it has a bunch of old, obscure video game references which is pretty cool. I grew up with the games mentioned in the book, so it's kinda nostalgic reading about them. Totally would suggest others to read it. 8. what is a quote that has resonated with you? why is it important to you? Okay this is going to sound kinda stupid compared to all those inspirational quotes out there, but I really like this quote I found in a fan fiction, where the character says, "my sexual desires can be equated to the thirst of a camel". It was a pretty bad fanfiction (not really bad, just too cheesy even for my taste) but I thought that quote was absolutely perfect. Even after I dropped reading it, I kept a screenshot from that for the last three years because it's pretty accurate for me. I joke about it a lot with my boyfriend (which makes him cry a bit but it's still pretty funny). 9. what’s your favorite emoji? Hm. I think 👌🏼 or ✌🏼 would be my favorite ones because I use it a lot in my twitter posts. Like I'll update with something and be like 'this cool thing happened to me dudes 👌🏼👌🏼' or whatever. And I use the peace sign a lot irl so they're pretty useful. 10. what’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had? *inhales* boi I have a bunch of weird dreams haha.. Um I think one of the weirder ones was from when I was younger.. It was the tail end of elementary school and I had a crush on these three boys that were best friends. I had a dream where I found them at Soak City, but it was super distorted (because almost all my dream places are). So we stood at the top of the colored slides and instead of being their normal height, they were probably 3-4 times that, and on rickety stilts instead. Of course one of the guys told me is was okay to slide down the red slide, so I made a jump for it (scary af). We went on another ride after that (I forget which) and then I followed the guys to the log ride. The guys went in, but I got sidetracked because I saw a cat in the planters next to the entrance. I went over to pet the cat and next thing I know there's a bunch of them surrounding me and meowing. I thought that was awesome at first cause I love cats, but next thing I know they're all scratching me and I kept flinging them off me because I was freaking out. I ended up backing into this room which turned into a distorted version of Chuck E. Cheese. The cats were gone, and I was at the entrance standing in front of an attendant. She said I was a special customer so I got a bunch of free tokens and some food, but at one point I got sidetracked again when exploring. I guess I found the entrance to the employee lounge, which was a maze, and went in because I wanted to see if I could find the end. Turns out an employee found me and asked what I was doing, so I fibbed and said I was looking for the bathroom. They escorted me out, and I ended up in this place that looked like a gift shop with stuffed animals and random toys on shelves. And I think the dream ended there. Pretty weird lol 11. which planet is your favorite and why? Hmm I think Jupiter is pretty cool because it's gaseous and has a bunch of different swirling colors on its surface, plus since it's so large it has a bunch of moons in its gravitational pull (and I think moons are neat). Though speaking in terms of connection to Roman mythology, I also like Neptune because of its relation to the god of the sea heh. I'm not going to do the questions because I already did them on my other blog ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ My main blog is @turqouiseorange if my other followers here want to check that out. Thank you again Emily for the tag <3 Even though I already did this and tagged you from my main, I answered your questions here because I thought they were really interesting and fun! Nice way to end the day heh ╰(*´︶`*)╯