#we’re not together just yet but we’ve made it clear we wanna!

[jaxyscreams]

The autistic joy of loving someone who is also autistic who u can spend time with in autistic ways and show joy in autistic ways that they just understand is autistic joy

[multifictionhell]

Let it Snow

A. Anderson

Warnings: Swearing obviously, reader and Mel run into some infected, but it’s nothing they can’t handle, fluffy ending, just pure Christmas fluff

Written by Chase

Christmas was usually the only holiday anyone liked at the WLF compound, and Halloween, mainly because Owen would scavenge for shitty costumes he found in abandoned shops to try and scare you and Abby with. Christmas, however, was most precious to Abigail Anderson, wanting to spend it with people she loved the most. Snow had to be in her top 3 favourite things about the beloved holiday, and you tried your best to take advantage of that.

On your last patrol with Owen and Mel, you asked them to help you scour a nearby music store for some Christmas records or tapes, wanting to find one with a specific song you knew she loved, ‘Let it Snow’. She talked about how her dad would sing it during Christmas time when she was younger. She may have outgrown the cheesy singing from her dad, but she definitely didn’t outgrow her love for the holiday and the music to go with it, and you had made it your mission to find something that had that song on it.

Mel was more than happy to help, she knew how much Abby meant to you; Owen, however, didn’t care much to help, and just kept watch at the outpost you three had been stationed at, because someone did have to patrol while you two went off on your own.

“Hey, this is a Christmas one!” Mel said gleefully, causing you to look over at the record she flashed toward you.

You scanned the songs on it and sighed in annoyance, not over Mel, but over the lack of such a classic holiday song not being on any of the records you found so far, “No ‘Let it Snow’, this is frustrating, ugh, I just wanna make her happy, ya know?”

Mel nodded with understanding, she knew how it felt to want to make someone you loved happy with something so little, so mundane, and possibly fail to do so. “We can check over there,” she pointed to the building next door, which contained more music, a spot neither of you had checked out before.

“There might be infected, we haven’t cleared that area yet,” you said, then thought to yourself before speaking once more, “but I won’t give up! Hopefully it’s something we can handle, I mean, we’ve made it this far.”

And so you two had set off to make your way to the other side of the building without telling Owen, knowing you guys would make it in and out without a hassle, probably. The two of you were known to go off on your own adventures sometimes and pull them off without a hitch.

Once you both made it to the entrance for the building, you realised you had to climb over in through the window above. Boosting Mel up first so she could open the door, she shushed you immediately, “Fuck, Clickers. As quiet as a mouse.” she looked at you and you nodded in response. There were only about three of them in the room, so you and Mel snuck up behind the two closest ones and shived them, then made your way to kill the last one.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” you said, wiping your hands together.

“The fuck does that mean?” Mel asked while laughing.

You shrugged and said, “I don’t know, it’s something I heard one of the older people in our camp say, it’s a saying from the old world I assume. Weird as shit, but I thought this was a chance to use it.” you and Mel laughed together before setting out to find more records in the store.

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed gleefully, “I fucking found it! It’s in CD form though. Do we have those back at base?” you asked, and Mel nodded, smiling, “Fuck yeah, she’s gonna fucking love this!” you couldn’t contain your excitement, alerting a runner to come straight at you, tackling you to the ground. Trying to wrestle it off of you, Mel instead whipped out her gun and shot it, “Smart move,” you said sarcastically, as you pushed the now dead infected off.

“What? There aren’t anymore around, clearly, I think we’re good. Let’s finish our patrol and get back to base.”

Once the three of you finished clearing out the areas necessary, Owen saw what you held in your hand and gave a small laugh, “Wow, you actually fucking did it,” not believing that you’d be able to find what you were looking for.

You waved it tauntingly in front of his face. “Well duh, I’m clearly a better partner than you ever were,” he clutched his chest, pretending to be heartbroken over it, causing all 3 of you to laugh. He and Mel were a better pairing, as he and Abby fizzled out quickly, and she had most definitely moved on the second she met you.

Back at the stadium, Abby was in her room waiting for you to come back safe and sound. Her door swung open, revealing you covered in snow, causing her to jump up and attack you with a hug, “Thank fucking god!” she said, happy to see you alive.

“You say that everytime I go out for patrol,” you said, rolling your eyes once you pried her off, laughing slightly.

“And I fucking mean it,” just then, she spotted the CD in your hand, ready to grab at it, but you held it behind your back before she could, “Come on, what is it?” she pleaded with curiosity.

“Just get out the CD player,” you lovingly ordered while shedding your heavy coat and snow pants, revealing a cosy sweater and leggings underneath. “Switch it to track 3” you said as you handed the CD over to her.

She obeyed and walked over to you, speaking up the second she heard what song it was, “Oh you didn’t,” her eyes widened as you grabbed her by the hand, “you fucking did?” she asked, clearly knowing the answer.

“Yes, I fucking did,” emphasising the swear word to mock her constant use of it, “Mel and I found a music shop, and I got to thinking, what if I found your favourite Christmas song? We went through a bit for it, I almost died ya know,” you joked, causing her to playfully punch your arm.

You held her hand in yours as the other snaked around her waist, causing her to lean into your touch. She was the happiest she had ever been, that damn smile on her face making your heart jump; you would do anything to see your girlfriend smile, to make her happy.

You spun her around and pulled her toward you, faces closer than ever, whispering, “Merry Christmas Abby,”

Her breath in your face was warm, a lovely contrast to the cold you felt only some time ago “Merry Christmas, Mi amor” she whispered back, clearly picking some Spanish up from Manny.

You looked into each other's eyes lovingly, sealing your first dance with a soft and tender kiss, never wanting the moment to end, and it seemed as if it never would, thank god for the replay button.

[stonebutchstories]

Tell Me More

Stone butch submissive top/ Dom butch bottom

Mathilda and Annie have been seeing each other for a while, but Annie has yet to make Mathilda cum. Since she’s never been with a stone before, Annie decides wants to learn about stone pleasure, specifically HER stone’s pleasure, and discover the kind of touch that does the trick.

Cw: penetration with fingers, oral stimulation, degradation, dominance, use of titles (sir/puppy), sexual language, overstimulation

“What are you thinking about?” I ask. Annie looks distant, staring out the second story window at the intersection below. This late at night, I know the streets get dead, so she must just be staring at empty asphalt. She’s been lost in thought the past few times I came over, and I’m starting to worry.

“Hm? Nothing.” She comes to sit next to me on my bed. I’m lying down, relaxing in between rounds. We’ve been at it like rabbits since that campfire, and I always end up taking a breather. I card a hand through her hair.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me, I wanna know! what have you been thinking about?”

She scoots in beside me, curling herself against my chest. She slipped back into her clothes for a smoke a few minutes ago, and, of course, I never got out of mine. Our hoodie strings tangle together. She smells like Mavericks.

“Just-“ she chews her bottom lip. “Worrying.”

“Why?” I draw her head in closer to my chest, stroking her hair. She has such soft hair, and it calms the both of us.

“I feel like you don’t… like this. As much as me, anyway.”

My brow furrows. “Why would you think that?”

She shrugs. “I dunno, you just don’t… I don’t know.” She rubs her forehead. “Maybe I just don’t understand how you… work?”

“I’m not following.”

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever made you cum.” She looks to the side, a little ashamed.

It’s a fair assessment, I haven’t cum during our hookups yet. But that means something totally different to me than it would to someone else.

“Oh, that’s not a big deal! I don’t cum with partners very often. It’s sort of part of the whole stone thing, y’know? It doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it.”

“I guess, I only have my own frame of reference. If I had been dating someone as long as we-“

My eyes go wide.

“I mean. Seeing. Seeing someone.”

“Right. Right.” I smirk.

Annie’s been insisting we aren’t dating, but she lets it slip every so often. I wonder what she tells our friends about this relationship. I wonder if she uses that word when I’m not there. She may act like she’s too cool for romance, but late at night when I get up to go to the bathroom, she grabs my hand half asleep and says, ‘baby love, please stay.’ It feels decidedly non-platonic. I guess butches have to protect our hearts, but I’m dedicated to finding my way in, however long that takes me.

She clears her throat. “If I’d been seeing someone as long as you have and they never made me cum, I’d probably… I dunno, think less of them.”

“Oh, so, you’re just worried it reflects on you?”

She shrugs.

“Well, that’s a relief. I was worried you were gonna say you found me less attractive because I’m stone.” I kiss the top of her head and sigh. It really is a huge relief.

“What, do people say that?”

I prop myself up on my elbow. “Oh, yes. Very often. I’ve been dumped for being stone more times than I can count.”

“That really sucks, baby. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t dump you like that.” She kisses me on the cheek.

“Well, you couldn’t.” I smirk.

She looks quizzically at me, then it hits her. “Right, because we’re not- right. Got it.”

“Keep forgetting, huh?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves me. “Fuck you, I’m trying to go slow!”

I squeeze her waist tight to me. “Oh, but you just can’t HELP wanting to U-haul with me, you silly lesbo lover boy, you!” I ruffle her hair and she sighs contentedly. “Look at it this way- you’re absolutely my dream butch. I enjoy sex with you more than I’ve ever enjoyed sex with anyone else in my life. I just don’t cum easily. Not your fault. Nobody’s fault, really. And it doesn’t mean I don’t love having sex with you.”

She thinks for a minute. “But… do you want to?”

“What?”

“You said it’s hard to cum, not that you don’t want to. Do you want to, and I’m just not good at making you feel good enough to?”

“I-“ I stutter. I don’t really think of it that way. “I dunno. I guess I’ve never… I mean, I barely ever came even with other people. I got good at faking it though, once I knew they’d break up with me otherwise.”

She holds my face in her palms. “I don’t want you to fake it. I want you to feel good. If that doesn’t include cumming, that’s fine. If it does, though, I want to know how to do it. And just in general, I want to do things that bring you pleasure at whatever level you’re able to feel it.”

I pause. “I don’t know. You make me cum when I’m by myself pretty often.”

“By yourself?”

I look to the side, embarrassed. “When I’m touching myself, I cum from thinking about you.”

Her breath hitches and she tugs me in closer. “What have you been thinking about, puppy?” The change of name strikes me in my gut. We’re revving up, now.

I squirm. “You.”

“What about me?”

She sits up into my lap and I lean towards her, posture just like the night we first kissed. The memory of it tugs at my heartstrings and makes me throb in the same breath. She weaves the bridges of our noses together, gazing down at my lips. I know she’s thinking about kissing me, but I don’t have permission to lean in on her behalf. I can feel her breath on the nerves of my lower lip. I steel myself.

“How my fingers would feel inside you.”

“Oh?” She leans back, tugging my right arm into her hands. “How would it feel?”

“Um.” I stammer. “Really good.” I’m not as natural at this kind of talk as Annie, but I have my ideas.

“Yeah? You sensitive in your hands?”

I nod. “Very.“

She exhales her question, one eyebrow quirked. I can tell she’s thought of something. “Are you-“ she draws my right hand up parallel to her eyes, holding on by my wrist. “-Ok with this kind of touching?”

My heart hammers in my chest. I nod.

The corners of her mouth twitch up subtly, not giving me the satisfaction of a smile. Annie keeps holding my wrist still with her right hand, but traces with her left pointer from my elbow to my palm. She presses and splays my fingers apart with her own.

“Do you ever cum from the stuff you do? Like, from stuff that isn’t direct?”

I swallow. “You mean my strap?”

Annie lowers my wrist to lean into me closer. She drags her nose up the crook of my neck, chuckling.

“I mean your hands. Can you cum from your hands?”

I shiver. “I- I dunno. I haven’t tried.”

“Tried?”

I stammer. “Yeah, um. Cumming from stone stuff is different. It doesn’t just happen on accident. You have to be immersed, I guess.”

“Immersed.” She hums. Her lips graze the shell of my ear. “What does it feel like? Being immersed?”

I feel myself throb. Like that, I wish I could say.

“I have to go slower, but it feels really good. I focus on the touch and somehow I can move the place I feel it. Then it’s like my hand is - mmh-“ Annie is dragging her bottom teeth against my earlobe, firmness making me squirm.

She pauses when I stop speaking.

“Go on, puppy.”

“S-sorry. It makes it feel like my hand is my strap. Or, my dick. It’s all one feeling. And that can make me cum.”

She pulls away. “So, if I touch you like this-“ she drags a finger against my heart line, tracing the deep creases of my palm. My breath hitches, just enough to be noticed, but subtle enough that it’s clear I’m not faking.

“Wow.” Annie’s tonguing her molars, eyes alive with thrill. “That’s what you like, huh puppy?”

My eyes fall to the side. “Yeah.”

“Oh, baby, I don’t mean to embarrass you.” She pauses. “Well, that’s not entirely true. But I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just…” Annie touches between the pads of my pointer finger, featherlight and ticklish. I startle in my seat and suppress a moan. “Fascinated. I’ve never been with a stone before. Your body works in such interesting ways.”

I try to laugh. “I don’t know if I’m a good barometer for the standard stone experience.”

“Mmm, I don’t imagine you are. Not that that’s bad.” She traces the pad of her middle finger up my forearm.

“Palms up.” My hands tremble as I right them. Annie sighs. “Oh, very good, puppy.”

I bite back a whine. Annie traces the lengths of my forearms, stopping before the sensitive tendons on my wrist. My thighs tense and relax in a way that makes her bounce on my packer. Every feeling she gives me is a good one. She taps gently and works up and down, making the hairs there stand on end. “How is that?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and chuckle. “Hah. That’s- it’s stupidly good.”

She hums. “You’re so easy to work up.” Annie leans in and kisses my neck softly. My knees part on their own, letting her hips sink down further into my bulge. “Do you like being easy? Does it turn you on to be such a whore?”

“Annie, please.”

“Tell me more about how I’d make your fingers feel. When you’re inside.” As she speaks she brushes up the length of my pointer and ring fingers. Her touch travels up the nerves, along the veins. Proximal, middle, distal. One and then the next. With my eyes closed, I feel it in my cock.

“I don’t know how to describe it, it’s um. It’s soft. You-“ I pant. “You like to talk a lot. And make me talk.”

Annie hums, patting smooth my lapels. “Keeps us where were supposed to be. Do you not like it?”

“I don’t mind it, I just sound stupid when I try to talk dirty.”

Annie smiles into my skin. “Yeah, kinda. You ever consider that’s what I like about it? Hearing you mindlessly stumble over your words, trying to explain how good it feels to be fucking me?”

She rocks herself down into my hips. I want my hands inside her so badly.

“It’s soft.” I offer my best.

She draws my wrists towards her mouth, leaning in close. I can feel the heat of her cheek in my skin, and she parts her lips to whisper into the flat of my palm.

“Soft?” Her sibilance resonates across the nerves of my hand. I can feel the warmth of her breath. I gasp and pant.

“And warm.”

“Mmm.” She drags her lower lip up my heart line, breathing into me. Her teeth don’t touch my skin, but I’m orbited by my awareness of them, and of the soft wet fullness of her lips dragging up my splayed palm- fuck, she is so hot. “How warm?”

“Like, I can feel the blood rushing to it. And I can feel your pulse getting faster in it, too.”

“Faster where?” I can see the fingers of Annie’s free hand stroking over the fly if her jeans. “Here?”

I bite my lip. Her ring finger makes slow circles.

“Do those words embarrass you, puppy? I want to hear you say them.” I can feel the tip of her nose drag down my open palm as she speaks, hot breath continuously alarming the sensitive nerves in my hands.

I stumble in my confidence. Part of it is that there are a lot of words to use, and butches are always particular. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and upset Annie. And also, maybe she’s right, I’m a little embarrassed to say this out loud. But it is an exercise in her control- she puts fingers and objects and gags in my mouth as she sees fit, so why not a word too? She returns my attention to her movement, pressing a breath into the crease of my ring and pointer fingers.

“Which words would you like me to use?”

She traces the horseshoe of my jawline back and forth, scratching the patchy hairs on my chin. “Funny boy. I know you like the taste of cunt in your mouth. Say it. Where do you feel my pulse?”

I swallow. “I- like feeling your pulse in your cunt, sir.”

She tuts and shakes her head. “I don’t know here you keep getting this ‘Sir’ thing from, but it’s growing on me. I don’t know if I’d have more fun letting you say it or trying to break your habit.”

I whine and tilt back my head. Motherfuck.

She takes my diverted attention as a chance to drag her tongue up my forearm. Neither of us expects my reaction to be so intense. I nearly buck her off my lap. The shock of it overwhelms me, and I feel all the muscles in my body contract and glitter with tactile aftershocks. I moan so hard it comes out as almost a scream. She shushes me reassuringly and I try to pant my way back down to even breath. My hips buck into her in arhythmatic pathetic thrusts.

“Aww, puppy, too much? Is it too sensitive?”

It kind of is, but I don’t want her to stop. I wrap my free arm feebly around her waist.

“Jesus Christ.” I sob, pressing my forehead into hers.

“Did I hurt you? It kinda of sounded like it hurt.” She wipes tears from my cheek that I hadn’t noticed falling.

I shake my head, sweat plastering us together. My breathing has returned enough to string together a semblance of a sentence.

“Just- feels so. Fucking. Much.” I heave. “ ‘needa minute.”

“Aww.” She scratches my shaved sides affectionately. “You’re so sensitive, it’s adorable, puppy.” She caresses my face in her hands.

I lean the two of us back on the bed, my ab strength stuttering as we lower. I can feel the corners of the room tilting us in all directions. Sometimes, when it’s really good, I get this kind of vertigo, but it’s never happened from just touch like this. She lies down on my chest, stroking my hair.

We take a little break, and Annie does her best only to touch me where I have clothes on. Just my skin on hers feels a little too electric, and every time she brushes up against my arms by mistake my whole body contracts and I bury my face into her collarbone.

“Hah. Sorry.” I chuckle embarrassedly when my thoughts start to return.

“No, baby, I just wanna make sure you feel good. You don’t have to be sorry.” She kisses me on the cheek, just under my eye, and wraps her arms around me.

I sigh, still a little floaty, but not so overwhelmed.

“Can I- um. Have some more?” I feel my face go flush, and I extend my hand towards her mouth. She eyes me up and down and grins deviously.

“Say ‘please, sir.’”

I clear my throat. “Please, sir. Can I h-“

Annie cackles. “Oh my god. You actually said it. You little homosexual Oliver Twist.” She punctuates each sentence with a deep tongue kiss.

I get even redder, somehow. I wrap an arm under Annie’s waist and flip her under me, kissing back even harder and laughing. “Oh, fuck you. You made me so horny I forgot about Oliver Twist.”

“Who could forget! Who could forget that tragic little orphan twink?”

I swallow her laughter with our tongues and mouths pressed close together, and feel it kindling the fire between us. She crosses her ankles over my back and tugs me in, switching off between giggles and moans. I feel so soft and silly and sweet with Annie- vulnerable in a way I’ve never been able to be before. Being butch is sometimes a matter of projecting a persona. Only she has ever made me feel safe to drop that persona, and put the trust of my life and my body in her hands. For some reason, the fact that she doesn’t take that deathly seriously makes me feel at ease. We can be lighthearted and funny. We can take breaks when it’s too much. I love being here with her and letting her take the reins, knowing full well she’ll only ever lead me where we both can feel free and fulfilled. She pulls away, hips still gyrating into me as she speaks.

“I can’t lie, puppy, it really turns me on that I can fuck you so hard you cry.” She smiles darkly.

I bite my lip. “Mmh. Me too.”

“And I think I like this, if this is how I make you cum. We can definitely do this more often.”

I throb. “I’d like that, sir.”

Annie doesn’t correct me. She takes my hand in hers, gently, looking to me for approval. I nod, and she returns to her work, exhaling hot breath up and down my forearm where her wet tongue left a mark.

“Mm- I want you inside, puppy. I wanna make you cum while you’re inside.” She whispers in a sultry voice as her mouth travels up my forearm.

“Fuck. Fuck, I wanna cum inside you, too. Please.”

She presses the flat of her tongue at my wrist, just to feel my body bear down into hers. As my muscles tense and thighs clench, I feel her hips rutting into me.

“You get so- so worked up when I touch you.” She’s stammering her way through moans, speaking into the skin of my hand as she licks and sucks it. “Do you even realize you’re grinding your cock against me?”

“Annie.” I grip her waist hard into mine, rocking my hips back and forth. “Let me. Please.”

“I bet you don’t. I bet you’re too empty and horny from being touched, and you can’t even tell how good you’re fucking me.” She’s right. I’m so fucking empty and I don’t care how my body moves or voice trembles, I want my fingers inside of her. I wanna cum. I wanna make her mine.

She keeps on task, half-praising-half-mocking me even as my hips grind into hers faster and faster. I start to find a rhythm with my thrusts, imagining I was lining up my oversensitive fingers with her dripping cunt, breaching her one at a time and feeling that hot tightness surrounding each nerve. I could feel her pulse, her wetness, her softness, everything I love. The way her body contracts around mine. She’d murmur instructions in my ear, telling me I’m a good worthless little puppy boy. How I’m hers. How my hips would press my own wrist further and further in, back of my hand and front of my packer between us for me to helplessly rut against. God, I would cum in her so deep.

She coils a hand through my hair, tugging my head up to inspect it. I let her observe her full of me, sweating, stammering, and moaning. Brows knit as I concentrate on holding back my orgasm. I have to wait. I need to feel her inside. I have to feel it.

“Please.” I barely make a sound, shaking from exertion.

She roughly grabs my wrist, ignoring the hypersensitivity and licks up my palm with the broad end of her tongue.

My body reacts explosively. I sob and moan, legs clenching together and trembling fiercely. She was smart to grab my wrist so roughly, because my body tries to retract it away on its own, trying desperately to restrain myself from cumming. She keeps going, as my fingers seize and curl, sucking and flicking her tongue over my pointer and ring fingers. In this backwards stone way that only we understand, she’s go giving me head. And I can barely hold on as she edges me.

“Oh, god- oh, god, Annie- Fuck-“ I stammer. My abdominal muscles are contracting so tightly it feels like they’re going to pop. I can feel my boxers getting soaked through, my soft packer sliding up and down the length of me with each stuttering thrust.

She pauses, voice breathy and deep. “Getting your cock nice and wet for me. You ready?”

I can’t even answer with words, and I don’t try. I just moan for her.

“Go ahead, then.” She yanks me by the hair close to her, face to face. She revels in the tears and the flush and the panting. “Fuck me.”

I throw myself from her grasp and yank her by the belt loops ferociously to meet our waists. I cant wait any more, I have to fuck her. And I have my instructions now. I waste no time taking her jeans and boxers off and sliding my fingers in.

I growl when I’m all the way in. It feels like I’ve been imagining, like I’ve begged to get the chance to feel. God. Annie is so good. I press my hand further with my waist, the way I learned to fuck with my hips before I got a strap. It feels basic, primal- the kind of fucking you do when you weren’t planning and packing. The kind of fucking you do when harness be damned, you need to be inside her. Her cunt makes a squelching noise as her back arches completely off the bed. Sometimes it’s nice to see your sexy dom top butch at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the sensation you give. Pride in that look overwhelms me. I know I’m fucking her good, so I fuck harder.

“O-oh my god-“ she grabs my belt loops, pulling me as deep as my hands can possibly go. I curl my fingers gently against her g spot and her mouth flies open. She gasps so beautifully. For as much as she likes to whisper dirty talk into my ear, when I’m fucking her she just wants to moan.

I plant myself face first into her dripping needy cunt, because it’s not enough to just touch her. I need to taste and feel and hear her too. I need to be overwhelmed by the sensation of her.

“Fuck- Mattie-“

She never uses my name. I kind of love it. I pull her down further on my fingers by her shoulder. I may be a bottom, but I spent enough years stone topping to be incredibly gifted in this arena.

She whines and moans. “God, you’re fucking me so good, yes- yes-“ she wraps an arm around the base of my wrist and pumps it up and down, stroking my sensitive forearm in a way that makes my brain short circuit. With focus I can change where I feel sensation in my body, but I have no focus right now. I feel it fucking everywhere. Every nerve in my body is a s tender and electric as my cock right now, and the way she grabs me, pulls me, coats my tongue, clenches down on me- it all feels like I’m being fucked.

I flutter my two fingers, the tip of my ring finger grazing the back of her cervix. God, I’m in so fucking deep. She pulls my hair and whines.

“God, yes- fuck-“

I suck on her clit hard, tasting that tart and almost metallic wetness dripping from her. It tastes different from the rest of her cunt, tastes like getting closer and closer. Fuck, I get lost in the feeling of her on my mouth, now, too. A little stiff and so velvety and soft, she wants it so bad. Her thighs clamp against the sides of my head, smooth soft hairs brushing my neck and shoulders. Every nerve in my body is alive. I can feel it all. The room spins faster ever second.

“Fuck- baby- Ah-“ She pants, voice high and breathy in that way she only is when she’s at her limit. God she sounds so fucking hot.

I press my forehead into her soft belly, feeling the thump of my fingers inside her and the wetness drip from my mouth. “I’m gonna cum inside you baby.”

She goes rhapsodic, screaming please-please-please as she throws back her head and thrashes her spent body around me. I brace down against her hard, feeling her walls contract and throb as her orgasm overtakes her. Fuck. Fuck-

I wrap my arm around her back and pull her even further into me. I need to cum inside her so fucking deep. Oh my god. My body trembles. I’m full of electricity. My body is glittering at every touch and noise and- fuck. My hips and my packer and my fingers and my mouth, all of it cums at once.

The room is all the way upside down when I hear her voice again, gently cooing “Breathe, puppy.”

I try, unaware I had stopped. I’m gulping down shallow breaths of cool air. When did the room get so cold? Why is it spinning around the axis of the beautiful, wonderful butch who just made cum so hard I cried?

Annie is stroking my hair. I had finished with my face down at her hips, so I look up at her from where I’m lying.

“Hi.” She smiles. “You okay?”

I give a limp thumbs up. I’m still passed out on her bare skin, but way too out of it to move on my own. She drips off my chin.

She scratches my cropped hair just behind my ear. “You’re so cute. You get so stupid when you cum.”

“Uh-uh” I shake my head, bonking her bare thigh. “M’ stupid before I cum, too.”

Annie laughs, dragging my towards her for lots of little kisses. I flip myself over onto my back. I prefer my partner to be lying on me, the pressure of their body just feels nice that way. She snakes our legs together.

“You’re so haaandsome. You got cum all over you but you’re still so haaaaansome.” She nuzzles her forehead into my shoulder. Such a sap, this guy. Would never have guessed from all the academic posturing and tough butch persona.

I roll my eyes. I’ve never been good at taking compliments. “You too.”

“Hey, um. Matt.” She hides the bottom of her face in our mess of arms and hair and body.

“Hmm?”

“Can we be dating now?” She looks away, embarrassed.

“Aw, we’re you waiting to make me cum to ask me?” I kiss the bridge of her nose. “We have been. I was waiting for you to notice.”

She buries her face completely in my chest. “So are you my boyfriend, then?”

“Woah! Whatever happened to taking it slow? That skips like, two steps in one!” I kiss her forehead, grinning.

“I meant what word do you prefer.”

“Still, though. That’s a bigger commitment than dating.”

“Well maybe I’m tired of not being committed to you. Maybe I just like you a whole stupid lot. And I want you to be my girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or partner I guess. As long as you’re not anybody else’s.”

“Boyfriend.” I smile. “Boyfriend works for me.”

We fall asleep there, and when I get up later in the night she doesn’t have to pretend to be asleep when’s he says ‘baby love, please stay.’ And so I stay.

[envihellbender]

VIVISECTION COMMITTED TO A CUTE BOY

Characters: Innocence (Avatar to the Slaughter), Carlin (OCs)

Verse: The Magnus Archives

Content: extreme gore

Innocence put a lot of work and effort into their production. The intro music, for example, was a deceptively simple tune - it was important that it stuck into the minds of everyone who heard it. However, it also had to be impossible to mimic, Innocence had an Aerophone AE-10 that they loved that they perfected the sound on. It was almost like the traditional bagpipes, but not quite. It was more upbeat and thus cuter, that was particularly important. Everything Innocence did was about aesthetics, down to their military uniform and pins in their long blond hair.

They spent hours setting up each streaming set, and of course each instrument used was state of the art or specially built. They whistled as they made sure everything was in place, when they were adjusting their ring light and all they could hear was yelling and screaming was when their smile started to falter. They turned to their co-star and scowled. The young man they’d chosen was extremely pretty, his best feature was his lips which were unfortunately hidden by duct tape for the time being. His eyelashes were thick, and his curls were dishevelled and had a week’s worth of greasy clinging to them. He’d been a model, and his starved body wasn’t doing much to help him now. Innocence wrapped the young man on his knuckles with their favourite iridescent scalpel whilst tutting.

“I’m trying to focus. I really don’t wanna cut your tongue out … but if I have to I will, even if it ruins the show,” they said before sticking their tongue out. The young man screamed again and as a result Innocence shoved the scalpel into his mouth in one swift movement. The edge cut open the roof of his mouth and the sharp point hit his uvula. He let out a whining whimper and Innocence raised their eyebrows as he did. “Are you going to behave?” He nodded. Innocence quickly pulled the scalpel from his mouth and sighed in annoyance. “Ugh. Stop bleeding. We’ve not started yet.” The young man spluttered as the blood from his mouth seemed to recede from its wound, pooling and congealing around his tongue. Innocence finished setting up the lights and camera, cleared their throat and began.

“Hiiiiiiii!” Innocence sang into the lense, their hands making a heart into the camera as they bat their eyelashes, with stars drawn on their cheeks in black eyeliner. They lowered their hands and then pressed their index fingers together. “So many new subscribers to our exclusive little club! Thank you so much to everyone who’s got the word out! Every link shared really helps me to make more content!

“Today we’re doing something a little different, I know you usually get to see me work on a group, but today I’m going to focus all my efforts on this one boy in particular,” Innocence said. They spun round and faced the second camera that was pointed directly at their co-star. His naked thin torso had lines of black marker drawn on him. They were more for appearances than anything else, Innocence knew instinctively where to cut and didn’t need a guide. “So, every day to celebrate spooky month, I’m going to perform a live vivisection on a new performer!”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to do anything. You just need to lie there and look pretty,” Innocence said in response to Carlin’s spluttering. “To begin with we have this young man, sorry his gag is torn up, monsters, he couldn’t stop yapping.” Innocence giggled and slipped out their iridescent scalpel with daisies clipped to the handle from their coat pocket. They rested the blade on the model’s Adam’s apple before ripping the gag from his mouth. “Some of you more eagle eyed viewers might recognise him from his cute AF TikTok videos or London Fashion week! It’s Carlin Rider, owner of the best lips and eyelashes in the business. I bet his organs are even cuter! Which one first, monsters?” Innocence looked up to a screen off camera and grinned.

“Intestines? So early in the game? Don’t be silly!! Those are going to be much later-” Carlin began to yell again causing Innocence to sigh and roll their eyes. They stared at their lips and mentally filled Carlin’s mouth with blood until he spluttered and whimpered. “Sorry monsters, we’ve got a chatterbox today! I think that answers our question though. He can’t talk if he’s missing his larynx!” Innocence spun their scalpel over their fingers and cut a smooth straight line from the bottom of Carlin’s chin to the space between his collar bones. Innocence then carefully slipped their fingers into his wounds and expertly pulled his larynx out, blood spurted from Carlin’s throat almost like a comical fountain. “Told ya! Look how cute that is!” Innocence said triumphantly, posing in front of the camera with it. “That’ll keep him quiet, look at this pretty brown eyes! Looking around the room so desperate for help.” Innocence stroked Carlin’s curls, he gasped silently and shook his head desperately trying to resist Innocence’s touch. They held the larynx up to the camera again this time turning it this way and that so the viewers could get a good look at it. Carlin was starting to grow pale and weak, Innocence exhaled in annoyance.

“Oh my, thought he was stronger than that.” They spun on their heel and returned to their desk, picked up their Aerophone and played the similar tune. The result was the wound on Carlin’s throat sewed itself back up without the larynx and colour and life began to return to his face. Innocence gleefully ran their fingers down his throat. “Sooooo pretty. I did such a good job. You can barely tell it’s gone.” Carlin opened his mouth as he attempted to respond, a croaking, quiet, and desperate gasp being all that left his mouth. Tears began falling down his temples and pooling by his ears.

“Good boy. Precious baby. Isn’t he a cutie everyone,” Innocence said, flicking their hair behind one shoulder, a couple of strands getting caught in their military jacket’s shoulder pads. “Next we’re gonna dooooo… Hmm, aw heck let’s take out a portion of is intestines. As a special treat for everyone sitting at home.” Innocence winked deliberately at the camera. They took out the same iridescent scalpel they’d used to open his throat and licked it clean. It didn’t matter if Carlin got an infection, that always made the future streams way more interesting. They pressed the scalpel into Carlin’s pale torso, and wriggled it into his guts. They had a little bit of a dig around until they found a nice thick bit of intestines and snipped it from the rest of them, giggling as Carlin silently screamed, unable to make a noise, and bled out. The yellow fat from his small belly dripped out making Innocence gasp in delight. They held up the bit of Carlin’s guts to the camera and twirled it around. “How pretty are his organs?! I love them. I’m definitely gonna cut up this cutie again. I might even have him long term. Wouldn’t that be fun, monsters?”

Innocence took a bite down on the intestines and sucked the blood and digested food out of the organ.

“Well, if we’re gonna get this babe done by the end of the day we better get going, huh?” Innocence sang, then flicked a peace sign at the camera with a grin.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Ango (Dwelling in Peace)

Fandom: DC Comics, Arrowfam

Summary: A young Connor Hawke spends the summer with Oliver Queen after an accident at the monastery.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Connor Hawke, Sandra Moonday Hawke, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Roy Harper

Relationships: Oliver Queen/Dinah Lance

Additional Tags: Father-Son Relationship, POV Oliver Queen, Child Conor Hawke, No Capes AU

Chapter Two: Chōsoku (rapid progress)

Once Connor got settled in, I started prepping for dinner. I thought he’d make himself scarce or shut himself away in his room, but he joined me in the kitchen. Connor washed his hands in the sink and asked me if I needed help. “I won’t put meat in the chili this go-round,” I paused, “Put on some gloves. Do you know how to cut onions?” Connor shook his head.

I grinned and sat him at the counter with a cutting board while I wet a paper towel. I grabbed my cutting board and two knives and sat beside him. “I wet this paper towel so you won’t start crying when we cut the onions,” I explained, “There’s a couple ways to cut onion, but this way’s the easiest. Hold it steady and cut down—.” I stopped and readjusted his fingers. “Curve your fingers, and don’t hold your pointer finger on the blade. You’ll cut yourself.” Connor nodded. “Cut down the center. I poke the onion with the tip of the knife and slide—. Good.” He peeled off the outer part, and I showed him how to dice.

“How many onions do we need?” Connor asked.

“Well, we usually only cut one onion… But it won’t hurt to make a bigger pot this once. Slide those onions into the bowl while I get the other stuff from the fridge,” I replied. Connor obeyed. “You’re doing great by the way.” I broke off cloves of garlic and smashed and diced them together. Connor snuck a piece of bell pepper while I chopped them, so I made us a small bowl.

“I’m sorry—.”

“I do it, too,” I chuckled. The kitchen was my turf, which helped. It loosened me up enough to be myself.

“Thanks for letting me help,” Connor replied. I reached for another piece of bell pepper when Connor did. We instinctively pulled our hands away from the bowl, reaching back simultaneously, and he laughed.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” I joked as my phone vibrated on the counter. “Sorry. Let me get this.”

“Okay,” Connor replied.

I stepped out of the kitchen to answer. “Hello?” I whispered.

“How is he?” Sandra asked.

“He’s fine. We’re making dinner,” I replied, “Does he have any allergies I should know about?”

“No allergies. How’s Connor doing? Is he eating?” Sandra questioned.

I glanced at Connor, and he waved at me. I waved back. “Not sure yet… He slept the whole way here, but he seems okay now. “Do you wanna talk to him?”

“I don’t want to shake him up… I want him to get used to you first,” Sandra replied, “Give him a kiss for me, Ollie.”

“Alright,” I answered.

She hung up, leaving me alone with Connor again. “Hey, kiddo? Are you okay with being home alone for a few hours?” I asked. “Next Friday. Not tonight.”

“Well, I—. Um—. Sure,” Connor stammered. I sat next to him at the counter and kissed his temple.

“Your mom asked me to give you that,” I explained. He smiled.

“Mom called?” Connor questioned. I nodded.

I wondered if he missed her. I wondered if he resented Sandra and me for leaving him alone. And part of me hoped Connor would shift most of that blame to me. I cleared my throat, trying to push back the guilt I felt. “Connor, how’re you handling the accident? I mean—. You never told me what happened,” I whispered. Connor frowned.

“There was a rockslide during our walk… A lot of people—. Some of my friends died. There was nothing we could do,” Connor answered. He swallowed hard.

I could tell by the weak tone of his voice that Connor wanted to cry. “Connor, I don’t mean to upset you… I only—. I wanna know where your head is at,” I explained.

“Not everything happens for a reason. Nature is not rational. Just make peace with whatever happens,” Connor quoted, “I have to keep repeating it to myself because it’d be too much to bear.”

I couldn’t speak. “Thank you for asking,” Connor replied. I nodded. The silence that followed was softer. Easier to digest... Unlike my chili, which nearly killed Connor. It took three spoonfuls of peanut butter and half a cup of soy milk to cool him down. I would’ve thought it was funny, but it was more sad to me than anything. I let him eat ice cream for dinner to make up for it until it made him feel better.

*

When nighttime rolled around, we got ready for bed, and I sat in my room reading a book when I got a knock on the door. “Dad?” Connor whispered.

I opened my bedroom door, and he held his mattress under his arm. “Okay… Come in,” I whispered, “Go straight to bed, though.” I set his mattress down, and he helped me make the bed. He looked at me with those sweet hazel eyes of his. “Don’t say you’re sorry… I don’t mind the company.”

“Dad? I had fun with you today,” Connor smiled. I knew he wanted to hug me, so I pulled him in, careful not to put pressure on the bandage on his forehead. I kissed his temple and turned the light down a notch. It wasn’t emotional. It was automatic. I think he felt it because he frowned, clutching the bottom of his pajama shirt. “Is this summer only a one-time thing?”

I wasn’t about to lie to him. I owed him the truth about that, at least. “I don’t know, Connor… We’ll see, okay? You might realize you don’t like me,” I answered.

“What if I do like you and you don’t like me back?” Connor questioned.

“I doubt that’ll happen, Connor… If you like it here, you can visit me whenever your mom says it’s okay,” I answered. Connor smiled and pulled the blanket over his head. Even after I finished reading and turned out the lights, I lay awake, watching him breathe. He was so quiet. So still.

“Connor?” I whispered. He didn’t answer. I climbed out of bed and kneeled beside him. Pulling the blankets off to see his little face. He shivered. I covered him up again while I looked for a hat from my drawer. I pulled it over his head, and he grabbed my shirt. The noise I let out frightened him awake, and I fell backward.

“Dad?” Connor whispered. I shook my head.

“Keep your head warm. It’s cold down there,” I whispered as I pulled his blankets up. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay… What’s the matter?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, go to bed. I’m fine,” I whispered. I lay in bed facing him and waited until he fell asleep again. I slept easy once he settled in. Soon, my eyes grew heavy, and I fell asleep too.

[katstries]

Soft snores were heard in the shared motel room, Sam sprawled on the bed as he slept. It had been a tiring day for all of them, yet two souls couldn’t shake off the adrenaline, both still wide awake.

“Still awake?” Dean whispered, looking over to the bed on the other side of the room.

“Mhm,” the woman mumbled, having counted all of the ceiling tiles over a half a dozen times in an attempt to fall asleep.

Dean sighed, tapping his fingers on his thigh, anxious to ask what had been on his mind for the past two hours, “Wanna go on a ride?”

She sat up in bed, a happy smile creeping onto her face, her hair a mess from how much she had tossed and turned on the pillow, “Do you even need to ask?”

Not even ten minutes later, the sweet purr of Baby was heard, Dean hitting the gas pedal only to leave a cloud of dust behind. It was a warm summer night, not a sign of clouds in the sky as the moon lit up the sky around them.

These were the moments where Dean felt in peace more than ever. Windows down of his Chevy Impala, rock music blasting through the speakers as he sped on the highway. What made it even better, was having her by his side.

He had never in his life thought his closest friend would end up as a hardcore crush. He found himself thinking about her more often as of lately, even having Sam on his ass about all the stolen glances and how his eyes lit up each time she entered the room.

It’s not like it was any easier for her. She had fallen head over heels over the years of working together with the brothers. The way Dean looked at her or whenever their hands brushed against each others, it always felt too good to be true.

His hands were strumming against the steering wheel, humming along to the music. He looked at her for a moment, a smile on his face when he noticed her fingers tapping along to the beat of the music.

“She says we gotta hold on to what we’ve got, it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not, we got each other and that’s a lot for love, we’ll give it a shot,” he sang along, his fist curled into a makeshit microphone.

He reached his hand towards her, giving her a sign with just his eyebrows that she should let herself go. She scoffed a laugh, grabbing a hold of his wrist to bring his hand closer to her.

“Ooh, we’re halfway there, oooh, livin’ on a prayer,” she belted out, hair blowing in the wind. He couldn’t help but laugh, joining with her singing, “Take my hand and we’ll make it I swear, oooh, livin’ on a prayer!”

Both of them were so caught up in the moment, sweet laughter filling the car. His eyes darted from the road to her every now and then, a happy smile on his face as she continued singing along, making his heart beat faster in his chest.

“Hey Dean,” she spoke out, looking at him only to meet his gaze, “Thank you for this.”

“No problem, you looked like you needed it.”

The way her hair blew in the wind and the way her green eyes pierced into his made him feel things he had never felt before. Her rosy cheeks seemed so soft under the moonlight, his hand instinctively reaching to touch it, heart pounding in his chest.

“Dean,” she said softly, wanting to stop him from making this any harder between them but she gave in, leaning into his warm touch, her hand going to his to hold it in place.

He huffed out a sigh of relief, her actions showing him clear signs of mutual thoughts. “I’ll take you to my favourite place,” he said with a smug grin, continuing the drive with one hand, keeping the other in hers.

He pulled up at a parking lot, the view straight on the mountains in the night light. He turned off the car, a peaceful quietness surrounding them as they looked at each other, “Come on, I’ll show you something.”

He hurried out the car, opening the passenger door for her with his hand out for her to take. She looked at his face and back to his hand, finally accepting it as he helped her out of the car.

He leaned against the hood of his Impala, still keeping her hand in his. “I come here a lot when we’re around to think about my life.”

“What about your life exactly?” she asked, ushering herself up to sit on the hood of his car, their hands still lingering together.

“Oh, the usual. How to keep Sam safe, how to keep you safe,” he spoke softly, looking into the far distance, “How tired I am of everything.”

His words felt like a thousand daggers through her heart, shattering something inside of her. She squeezed his hand tighter, trying to find the right words to say.

“Come here,” she said, patting the space next to her. He turned to look at her, not a thought behind his eyes. Without saying a word, he sat down next to her, her familiar scent filling his nose.

She leaned her head onto his shoulder, a small sigh escaping her parted lips. His leather jacket felt cold under her flushed cheeks. Was this the moment to tell him how she felt about him? Was this the moment to change it all?

“I wish we could stay here forever, together,” he said, breaking the painful silence, leaning his head onto hers.

“What’s stopping us?” she asked in return, releasing his hand for a moment only to interlock their fingers together.

Dean let out a small chuckle, feeling how his heart was about to burst free from his ribcage. He brought their intertwined hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of her hand.

“Is this your way of telling me I’m the most handsome man in the whole world?” he asked, teasing her.

She couldn’t help but snort, knowing Dean always had a way with this words, “Loving the confidence but yeah, you could say that.”

He let out a small laugh, leaning to lay down on the hood of the car, bringing her down with him. He wrapped his hand around her waist, her head leaning against his shoulder as they looked up at the sky.

“Listen, I’m scared as hell,” he said in a low voice, his fingers softly drawing circles on her waist, “But I am willing to try if you are.”

She turned her head enough to look at him, the corners of her lips curving into a smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Huh,” he huffed out before he laughed, “It’s not my fault you make my heart beat so fast that I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, loving how the sensitive topic of his life turned into a loving banter between the two of them. They did it often but this time was different, this time it all felt right.

“I wish I could say I’m sorry but it’s a power move to make Dean Winchester’s heart beat that fast,” she chuckled, clearly amused.

“You’re the only one capable of that,” he whispered, pressing a kiss onto her soft, red hair. He was surprised by his own actions but the feeling of wanting to kiss her grew with each passing minute and he had no intention of stopping himself.

His fingers softly took a hold of her chin, making her face him. Her heart skipped a beat, his emerald eyes shining bright under the moonlight, “Can I?”

She gave him a small nod, unable to fight back the smile on her lips when he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers as softly as he could. His hand was holding her cheek, letting out his feelings through the kiss they shared.

When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers, her breath still warm against his lips, “Suddenly life doesn’t seem just as bad.”

“Silly,” she whispered, bringing him down into another kiss, taking charge of it this time. Her fingers ran through his hair, Dean instinctively deepening the kiss between them by turning onto his side for a better angle.

It went on for what felt like forever until they finally pulled apart, both having to catch some air. He let out a sigh of relief, pressing a quick peck onto her lips before laying back down, bringing her into a tight embrace.

“This is the beginning to a new life, a happy life.”

[spnae]

Chapter 9 Awkward Moments

Buffy yawned as she entered Faith’s room later that morning with a cup of tea and some toast she had snagged from the kitchen. As she looked around, Buffy marveled at how simple the room was. A full sized bed, dresser, vanity, a wardrobe, night stand and a large comfortable blue saucer-chair made up the furniture. It was also cleaner than she had expected.

Although Buffy had seen Faith’s room from the door a number of times, this was really the first time she had actually been inside. The room was painted a light blue with white trim. The rest of the room was done in light blue and gray tones with lots of black and white accents. Faith had decided to use weaponry to decorate the walls. A pair of swords and a large crossbow were mounted above the headboard.

Afraid she wouldn’t be able to get out of the big round chair without hurting herself, Buffy opted for a seat on the edge of the bed, “So what’s up?”

“I need date night help.”

“Show me what we have to work with.”

Faith opened her wardrobe revealing a variety of tops and only one very plain black dress, suitable for a funeral. “What you see is pretty much it. The dresser just has jeans and workout gear. Practical stuff.”

“Okay… so it’s a lot less ‘Joan Jett’ than I was expecting but I’m sure there’s something here,” Buffy started shifting hangers, “Faith, I don’t really see the problem. You have at least five tops here that would be perfect for first date drinks. He’s taking you to a local pub not a five-star restaurant,” Buffy pulled out a fitted black top with lace sleeves and lace running across the shoulders, “This one is perfect, just add the right necklace and you’ll be all set.”

“I don't really have any.”

“Then I guess we’re going shopping.”

Faith sighed, “These girls are great and all, but I was really looking forward to having a day off. Not like they all go on these little outings anyway but it’s still a break.”

“So we don’t stick with the group. Giles will understand. It’ll be the first time we’ve been shopping since…”

“Before everything got so screwed up…”

“Come full circle haven’t we?”

“Does that mean we’re friends?”

“I don’t know about friends, Faith, but we’re definitely vital to each other and you definitely belong here. We’re in this together and in my book I guess that sort of makes us family. Pretend cousin thing notwithstanding,” Buffy shrugged.

“Really?”

“Unless you don’t feel the same.”

“I… is that freaky or what? I mean the cousin thing felt sort of… weirdly natural.”

“Yeah… it’s weird, but somehow it fits, right? They say you don’t get to choose your family, but that’s never really been the case for me. I say family is what you make it.”

“I never had that, made up or otherwise. I think I kinda like it. Thanks, B,” she cleared her throat, “Well I guess that means we better get a move on. Giles is gonna wanna leave soon, he promised the girls lunch in town.”

“Yeah, you know I’m totally avoiding that,” Buffy said frankly.

“We’ll hitch a ride with them there, hit a few shops, and walk home.”

“Perfect, I’m starting to feel a little cooped-up, it’s been so nice the last few days,” Buffy said with a sigh, looking out the window.

Faith followed her gaze, looking out over the grounds, it really was shaping up to be a great day.

*****

Buffy and Faith made their way through the people on the sidewalk. This section of town was full of small shops Buffy was excited to check out. She hadn’t been shopping since she got Spike his new hooded motorcycle jacket in Paris.

They had already been to a few but hadn’t had much luck yet. This shop was different from the others. It reminded Buffy of The Magic Box only with clothing and jewelry instead of the extensive collection of occult books Giles had kept. Otherwise it was very similar.

A middle aged woman with black hair streaked with gray and bright blue eyes greeted them, “Good day, ladies. Is there anything I can help you find?”

“I think jewelry mainly. She has a big date tonight and nothing to go with the outfit,” Buffy explained.

“We’ll probably just take a look around,” Faith dismissed.

“We have plenty of unique jewelry. Most of it is here on the display. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said as she started to browse.

Faith turned to the jewelry display and picked up a silver necklace with a delicate stylized dagger hanging from it. She took it over to show Buffy. “That’s surprisingly pretty, it would go great with that top.”

“I think I’m going to get it…” she paused looking at the necklace, “Do you think I’m wasting my time?” she asked Buffy.

Buffy looked up from the dress he was looking at, “Shopping?”

“Well that, but…”

“Callum?”

“Yeah… I don’t know…”

Buffy followed Faith over to another clothing rack, “Look Faith. Here’s what I think, honest opinion: You got burned on Robin and I think Spike was right.”

“Figured you’d side with him,” she said as she held up an interesting semi-sheer black tunic top with silver threads woven into the fabric.

“Well yeah, if you like the guy then it’s worth taking the risk. You won’t know until you try. And if you don’t get that top I will, that’s super cute,” she said as she continued looking through the clothing rack. Buffy pulled out a dark purple top with black laces up the front and down the short sleeves, “What do you think about this one?”

“Here, let’s trade.”

“In case there’s a second date?”

“I can’t help but feel like I’m not cut out for this, Buffy. What happens when I tell him about, you know, everything?”

“Everything? Slayer stuff and all? You really like this guy huh?”

Faith glanced up at the shopkeeper who had suddenly paused as she rearranged the display case. The woman picked something up off the floor and quickly resumed working. Faith dropped her voice, “Yeah… What if it all sends him screaming? What if it doesn’t and it gets him hurt or worse? I can’t…. Buffy I can’t let Callum get hurt because of me. I just can’t…” Faith turned around looking at a display of herbs.

“We would never let that happen, Faith. You know that right? You, me, Spike, the rest of the gang, it’s our job to protect people and we’re damn good at it. Besides, look at Xander, he’s been in at least as many scrapes with me as Spike, maybe more, and he’s still in one piece, mostly… ok maybe not the best example.”

“Eyepatch says a lot, but I guess you sort of have a point. I really like this guy, Buff.” Faith pulled out a silky green halter top with a raven printed on it and handed it to her, “Here’s a sexy little thing.”

“Oh I like that, give me,” she smiled. “Maybe I’ll try out that massive bathtub tonight.”

“Just remember that I use that tub too.”

“What do you think I’m going to do in there?”

Faith gave her a knowing look, “I’m not worried about what you’d do solo. It’s more like what would happen if your boy-toy is involved” she smirked.

“Dirty… like you’d never try it out if Callum was a willing participant.”

“Sure I would… I’d also remember the cleaner is under the sink.”

Buffy laughed, “Thanks for the tip.”

“What do you think of this?” Faith asked, holding up a simple little black sleeveless dress.

“You need it. You need a little hot in your wardrobe.”

“Fine, I’ll keep an eye out.”

They left the shop almost a half hour later. Buffy found a short skirt with thistles screen printed on the thigh for herself and talked Faith into a skirt and a second dress. They each picked out a few new tops and restocked the herbs they had used along with some Berber-weed for Spike. This had been Buffy’s favorite shop so far. After that they grabbed a quick bite to eat and hit a few more shops. Buffy grinned broadly as they exited a lingerie shop.

“Let’s check out the music store and head back, I think I’m about done,” Faith said, pointing across the street.

“Sure, why not.”

The bell over the door tinkled as they walked in. The store was deserted and there was a slight scuffling sound and a woman’s Scottish accent saying, “Sorry, customers. Won’t be a moment…” in a hushed tone before a very pretty middle aged woman with Asian features came out from behind a heavy beaded curtain. Her sleek black hair had a dyed streak of bright blue and was tied back in a messy bun. She also wore a tiny diamond stud in her nose. “Hello there, anything I can help you find?”

“Oh hello,” Buffy managed to say as she was trying to take in the scope of the store. She redirected her attention to the woman behind the counter, taking in her funky handmade name tag, “I don’t even know where to begin, Zara.”

“Nostalgia, man…” Faith breathed as she looked around the shop. It was full of records, tables of cassettes, CDs, and players of all kinds.

“No kidding, Spike and Giles would both get totally lost in here,” Buffy said as she picked up an album with Jim Morrison’s picture on the cover. She flipped it over and set it back down.

“Rupert Giles?” Zara interjected.

Buffy was taken aback, “Ah yeah, you know him?”

“For most of my life it seems. You seem a touch old to go to his school.”

“Actually we teach there,” Buffy gestured to herself and Faith.

“Oh my God, you must be Buffy and Faith. So nice to meet you!” She said enthusiastically as she offered to shake Buffy’s hand. “So what brings you in today?”

“Her really,” Buffy pointed to Faith.

“I’m just looking. Maybe get something for Gi- ah, Uncle Rupert’s record collection.”

“I happen to know his wishlist,” she winked.

Buffy had the sudden sinking feeling that it was Giles behind the beaded curtain. Faith must have had the same thought because she caught Buffy’s eye and turned back to the shop owner quickly, saying, “Yeah, sure. I’ll take something off his list, surprise him. What about you Buffy? Getting anything?”

Buffy hesitated, “Now you mention it, do you carry MP3 players?”

“Sure do, right over there in the case.”

Buffy went over to take a look, while Zara walked over to the record albums. She pulled one out and handed it to Faith, “Here’s one Rupe wants.”

“Works for me, thanks!”

As Buffy checked out, she heard Giles’s unmistakable voice coming from behind the curtain.

“Zara, darling, I—“ he said distractedly as he removed headphones from his ears. He looked up, startled, “Buffy, why hello, I hum… you’ve met my friend Zara then? Ah, Zara, this is Buffy and—“

“Ah yeah we met, she was super helpful…” Buffy said, and then wished she hadn’t sounded so dumb.

Zara covered the awkward moment that followed with a laugh, “I was nosie I’m afraid. They had said something about your music collection and I interjected. We sort of handled introductions on our own.”

Giles stammered slightly, “We were just having tea. The shop is normally rather quiet this time of day…”

“We sort of picked up on that,” Buffy smirked knowingly.

“Yes well, how is the shopping going?” He asked, trying to change the subject while he looked around until he finally spotted Faith.

“Cool it, Rupe,” Zara soothed as she gave him a smile.

“This is our last stop then we’re heading back,” Buffy answered, holding up her shopping bags realizing a moment too late that her lingerie bag, clearly marked with the shop’s rather evocative name, was front and center.

Giles cleared his throat trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed, “The girls only have another hour and a half before I’m set to meet them; are you sure you don’t want to get a ride back with us?”

“Nah, as soon as Faith is done we’re heading back.”

****** ****** ******

When they got back, Faith started to make her way upstairs before she noticed Buffy going in the opposite direction, “Aren’t you taking your stuff up?”

Buffy turned back towards her, “TV’s on, thought I’d see if Spike is in there.”

Faith shrugged, “Eh, what the hell…” she said, turning to follow Buffy.

Spike wasn’t in the great room. In fact only Addison and Ursula were there. Kissing and grinding on each other with such enthusiasm that they didn’t even notice when Faith and Buffy walked in.

Buffy cleared her throat loudly, “Ladies!”

The two young women looked up, startled. Fear flashed in Addison’s eyes as she looked around for her shirt. Ursula couldn’t have cared less about being caught. She coolly pulled Addison’s shirt off the back of the couch, handing it to her girlfriend.

Buffy continued, “Why don’t you two take that upstairs to your room? The other girls will be back in about an hour.”

With that, the two Level 4 girls rushed past them to the stairs giggling.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “I suppose they’re going to want to be assigned to the same city,” she asked as she turned towards the stairs.

Faith followed, “Yeah, Ursula already brought it up to me the other day, they want to live together.”

“I’ll talk to them about it, later.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you want to walk in on all that again,” Faith shook her head as they reached their floor.

Buffy placed a hand on her doorknob, “Nope, not even a little. I do however want to put these bags down and find my guy.”

She opened the door to find Spike sitting upside down on the loveseat with his legs hanging over the back. His eyes were closed and he had on Buffy’s earphones connected to her laptop listening to music. He was reminding her of Dawn when she was about seven. Buffy set her bags down on the bed and went over to sit down next to him. Spike jumped as he opened his eyes and took off one of the earphones with a start, “What the— bloody— oh, hey Babe. How was the whole bonding experience?”

“It was… actually a pretty good day. I don’t think we’re ever going to be best friends but we’re being civil and we’re getting along for the most part.”

“That’s something,” he answered and closed his eyes again, tapping the beat on his stomach.

“How was your day?”

“Uneventful unless you count walking in on the lovebirds going at it hard in the living room.”

“Ah yeah, I thought you were in there watching TV, boy was I wrong.”

“Intended to. Went down to grab a beer and walked in on them. Turned right around and came back up here. Hope you don’t mind; I downloaded some tunes onto your computer.”

“Nah, it’ll go perfectly with your gift.”

“A gift for me?” Spike removed the headphones and swung his legs around to sit-up in his seat, “What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday, yet.”

Buffy frowned, “When is your birthday? Do vampires even celebrate birthdays?”

Spike gave her a puzzled look, “Personal preference I suppose. Dru always made a big thing about it.”

“So when is it?”

“August 20th, met Dru ‘round the same time. Original member of the 27 Club,” he shrugged.

Buffy sighed as she relaxed back in her seat, and stretched her legs over Spike’s lap, “Makes you a Leo. I can work with that.”

“What’s this about?” He asked her as she kicked off her shoes and they clunked to the floor.

“Nothing, just gathering all the pieces of the Spike-puzzle I’m going to need for this long-term-commitment thing we’re going for.”

Spike raised his eyebrows, “And birthdays are part of the whole ‘normal-heathy-relationship package’, that right?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Well I do like presents,” he grinned a little as he spotted the bags sitting on the bed, “Am I allowed to see what you got?”

“You get one gimme”

“That fancy looking one there, the gimme?” He smirked as he ran his fingers down her hair, gliding along her shoulder and down her arm.

“Might be,” she grinned, catching his hand in hers.

“Does my girl have plans for me tonight?”

Buffy leaned in close teasing him with a kiss that didn’t quite connect, “I may have got some fancy bubble bath.”

“You don’t say? Anything else I should be looking forward to?”

“There might be one or two other little surprises.”

Spike let out a low little growl pulling her to him. Buffy responded with a happy sound of her own as she consented to the kiss. She slid easily into his lap as they continued kissing. They stayed like that for several minutes before breaking apart. Spike tapped her on the leg, “I need to eat before I start getting hostile.”

“You go, I’m pretty beat from last night, I think I’m going to take a nap.”

There was a knock at their bedroom door.

“Who goes there?” Spike asked gruffly.

Faith’s voice came through the door, “Are you two decent? Kinda filled my quota of interrupting people in the act today,”

“You’re good,” Buffy laughed.

Faith opened the door, “Right, at least you two are fully clothed.”

“Giles might have actually been having tea, we don’t know.”

“What’s this now? Mr. Stiff-upper-lip, got a special friend?”

“Unclear…”

“Don’t want to know, it’s just too weird,” Faith grumbled.

“So what’s up, for a girl with a hot date you’re awfully bad moody.”

“Nah, 5x5, B. Maybe a few butterflies but it’s cool. Giles and the girls just got back. Callum called.”

Buffy eyed her, “He didn’t cancel did he?”

“Huhh… no… kinda the opposite. He finished his day a little earlier than he thought he would and wanted to know if he could pick me up earlier, get something to eat.”

“But that’s a good thing right?”

“He’s going to be here in about an hour.”

“You better get ready then.”

“I was kinda hoping you might help me with my hair,”

Buffy shrugged, “Sure, how do you want it?” she asked skeptically. Faith never seemed to have any trouble doing her own hair, but Buffy was in a benevolent mood.

“Kinda what I need the help with.”

“I’ll be in.”

As Faith left the room, Buffy turned to Spike, “She is really in knots over this guy.”

“All been there. Not a guy, I just meant—”

Buffy laughed, “You know I’ve always kinda wondered about you and Angel.”

“Oh now you're going to get it,” he said as he pulled her tightly against him grinning. He wove his fingers firmly into her hair and kissed her roughly until he felt her knees start to give way.

“You were saying?”

“Wow…”

“Run along now, Slayer. You go, make friends.”

Buffy took a moment to shake the hormone induced fog from her mind, “Not just yet, I got you something you might want to play with.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Present time?”

“One.” Buffy walked over to the bed and pulled out the MP3 player she bought him. “Here, I got this for you.”

Spike opened the box and held it in his hands, “Buffy… first the jacket, now this. You know I—”

“Call it a belated birthday gift for last year.”

“Thanks for this, Pet,” he held the player up in his hand. “I’ll need to get some music loaded up.”

“You’re welcome. I better go help Faith,” she said, giving him a kiss, “I love you,” she murmured.

“Love you too, Slayer.”

They shared one last lingering kiss before Buffy made her way across the hall to Faith’s room. When she got there Faith had already changed into the black lace top Buffy had picked out and the new dagger necklace. Buffy pursed her lips at the jeans she still had on, “Are you sure about the jeans?”

Faith shrugged as she finished her eye makeup, “You think I should wear slacks?”

“No, I think you should wear that totally hot little skirt you found today.”

Faith rummaged through the bags she’d thrown into her big round chair and pulled out a blue skirt with a 3 inch wide panel of black leather on one side that was bordered with little silver studs running along the edge. “Don’t think it’s too much?”

“Any other guy and you wouldn’t even be asking that. No, you’ll leave him speechless.”

While Buffy plugged in the curling iron, Faith shrugged off the jeans and pulled on the skirt. The skirt hugged her curves well and made her feel a little like a rockstar.

“I think I have an idea for your hair; have a seat.”

Faith sat, allowing Buffy to start on her hair. Buffy had just started a small French braid on one side of Faith’s head starting at her temple when they heard a faint knock. They both looked up to see Ursula standing in the doorway, “Ehh Hallo, Faith, Buffy, I’m glad I caught you both,” she said with a slight German accent.

“Sure, what’s up Urs?” Faith asked.

“I just wanted to say thank you both for being so cool earlier. I know we probably shouldn’t have gotten carried away downstairs like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. But you’re right, privacy is probably the best policy. I know you have to share a room with two other girls but still, do your best alright? Spike spent the day locked in our room so he wouldn’t disturb you.”

“Spike saw us too?”

“Ohh yeah,” Buffy nodded, “He’s way too cool to say anything though.”

“Please don’t tell Addy, she is already very shy about our relationship.”

“Course not,” Buffy said as she finished the little braid then reached for the curling iron.

“What’s this? Why the smoking outfit?”

“I got a date. You like?”

“If I were single… what shoes will you wear?” Ursula asked.

Faith pointed over to her regular boots. Ursula made a face, “No, not with that hot number. Size 8 right?”

“How’d you-“

“I have boots that will be much better, chunky wedge too, so they aren’t too bad in a fight either. I’ll get them,” Ursula ran upstairs and was back down before Buffy had finished the first curl with the curling iron.

Buffy paused, letting Faith pull them on, “Wow, these are surprisingly comfortable.”

“Not to mention totally hot? Who’s the lucky one getting the hot-girl special? It’s not that handyman guy is it?”

At the stunned look on Faith’s face Ursula laughed, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Can we just keep this quiet?”

“Sure, I owe you one anyway,” with that Ursula left to go back upstairs.

Buffy turned back to Faith and continued curling her hair, “Where’s he taking you tonight?”

“Some pub in town, ‘The White Rabbit’ I think he said.”

“Didn’t we pass it on our way back?”

“Yeah, I told him I could walk but he insisted on picking me up.”

“How chivalrous,” Buffy smirked.

“Is that what it is? Damn…”

Buffy laughed, “As strong as we are, sometimes it’s nice to be treated like a lady.”

Faith pressed her lips for a second, “Yeah don’t know, I mean there’s nice and then there’s… freaking annoying. I mean where’s the line?”

“That’s something you really need to work out between you two.”

“How’d you and Spike do it?”

“Oh no, do not go looking at us as a relationship model because, damn.”

“Yeah I get that… I just, how do you find the balance? I mean you’re both a couple of bad asses and then I don’t know… you got this seriously sickening lovey-dovey thing going on. I don’t know how to do that. I keep thinking maybe that’s what went wrong with Robin. I’m just too— hard.”

“I’ve been there, I get it. Honestly, I don’t know. I think once I was able to respect him, love came really easy for me. He’s also not afraid to tell me what I need to hear and I don’t know... That lovey-dovey stuff just sort of randomly comes out.”

Faith sighed as she looked in the mirror, “Damn, B, like the hair.”

“Well, go knock’em dead… figuratively.”

“Got it…”

[i-kai]

you maniac! 4 - chase fucking atlantic

wordcount: 622

After parting ways with Minju, you hurriedly went upstairs to find the nearest bathroom to make sure no one sees you for the next 20 minutes.

Finally finding a comfortable-looking one, you sat on the floor and pulled out your phone. Time to distract yourself while waiting for Sunghoon’s “signal”. After almost half an hour of scrolling through social media and reading AO3, you finally got a text from him.

Ding!

sunghoon 😈

yo wyd

you

i’m in a bathroom upstairs

sunghoon 😈

okay

make yourself look messed up, go downstairs, and meet me in the kitchen

you

on it 👍

You messed up your hair and makeup and made sure your top had one or two buttons unbuttoned, to make it seem like something happened. Being proud of how real it looked, you smiled to yourself and exited the bathroom.

Going downstairs, looking around the crowded mansion, and trying to get past drunk college kids, you looked for the kitchen. Damn this big ass house.

You locked eyes with a resident of the mansion, Jay. You met him during your freshman year once in the library when you lended him your copy of Punk 57. He said that his girlfriend wanted him to read it. He probably knew the house like the back of his hand, so he’d know where the kitchen is.

As you approached the black haired guy to ask him, a warm hand held yours and intertwined your fingers. “Baby, where were you? I was looking for you.”

Before you could raise your brow in confusion, you looked up to see none other than Park Sunghoon. Your faux lover. Not wanting to raise suspicion from Jay (who was watching it all happen), you played along and smiled at Sunghoon. “I was looking for you!”

The tall boy just smiled and snaked his arm around your waist. Jay cleared his throat, bored but also confused out of his mind. “You? Y/n? “Babe”? Huh?” His tone wasn’t judgement but rather.. well.. confused.

Sunghoon chuckled as he looked at Jay, then you, then back to Jay with a bright smile on his face. Not wanting to leave him hanging, he finally gave the poor guy an explanation. “This is my girlfriend, y/n. I’m assuming you know her so a long introduction won’t be necessary.”

Jay nodded, “Yeah, I do know her.” He looked at you, “How long.. has this..” he motioned towards you and his best friend, “been a thing? How come not a word has been said about this?”

Your expressions mirrored Sunghoon as you chuckled too. “We wanted to keep things private in case it didn’t work out. But we’ve been together for a while and we’re sure of this relationship so we want to make it public now.” You mentally facepalmed yourself for sounding like some Reality TV star in a press conference about her 4th husband after her 7th divorce.

With your hands still in Sunghoons, Jay nodded and smiled at you both, “Congrats. I’m happy for you both.” He patted his best friend’s shoulder and left to go find his girlfriend.

Sunghoon let go of your hand, the lack of his warmth suddenly making you feel empty. “That was easy. You nervously chuckled, “I thought we were going to tell others that we were just in the talking stage? No official relationship yet?”

Sunghoon smirked, “I just thought last minute that it’d be better to start straight away with a relationship.” Once again, you mirrored his expressions, “I thought you said we weren’t going to freestyle this?”

The tall boy took a step forward and looked down, his face inches away from yours. “You wanna play by the rules, y/n?” Raising your eyebrow, you scoffed at him and turned your heels. With your back facing Sunghoon, you made your way to the nearest counter with drink placed on it, “Oh, Park. Playing games with you is fun.”

previous / next

synopsis: after a distressed sunghoon fails to win back his ex, he resorts to using a plan that’s widely used in books and tv — getting a fake girlfriend to make his ex jealous. after making a deal with him, you agree to become his fake girlfriend.

note: this is different than the one i uploaded on my old blog! i kinda like this one better lol

taglist: @rielleluvs @mykalon @abdiitcryy @candidupped @hobistigma @luvrseung @enhacolor @pixyseeun @stoatwashere @c9tnoos @hyuckslytherin @navsnct @jeonkoookiee @baekhyunstruly @cloudykyu @yizhoutv @youngestdelacour @ja4hyvn @jungwoniics @theskzvibe @msxflower @i-syo @ncityy04 @arikiu @nikisfavdancepartner @nikiluvrr @yougeans @heelariously @hooniesoul @kingkaithekiwi @woopetals @primorange @jaysstarz @justalildumpling

italics = unable to tag

[thesolferino]

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!” 

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.” 

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?” 

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.” 

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet? 

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend. 

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes. 

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you. 

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?” 

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed. 

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up. 

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks. 

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought. 

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him. 

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in. 

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him. 

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well. 

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you. 

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend. 

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?” 

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister. 

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!” 

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you. 

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out. 

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him. 

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else. 

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though? 

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place. 

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room. 

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home. 

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls” 

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right” 

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait. 

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend. 

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin. 

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones. 

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?! 

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown. 

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream. 

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway. 

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive. 

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it. 

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people. 

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?” 

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?” 

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.” 

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.” 

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should. 

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well. 

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.” 

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.” 

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good. 

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good. 

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you. 

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you. 

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand. 

“What?” 

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it. 

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty. 

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it. 

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was. 

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it. 

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning. 

“Kiss me.” 

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.” 

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good. 

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes. 

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad. 

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

[frostedfaves]

Naive (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda

A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!

Previous part

Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed. 

Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t save my number, did you?”

“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”

“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”

“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”

“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.

-

Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.

“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”

She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.

“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.

“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”

“I am now.”

The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.

-

“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”

“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.

“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”

“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.

“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”

“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.

“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.

“What?”

“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”

“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”

“She told you her name?”

“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”

Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.

“Are you taking me to your house?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”

Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.

“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”

You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.

Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.

“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.

“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”

“Okay...so where are your pictures?”

“What?”

“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”

“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.

“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”

You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.

“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”

You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.

“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”

If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.

“I can’t wait to make you mine.”

Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.

Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.

“Welcome home.”

[heliotropehotch]

ours - a.h. x fem!reader

request: Hi!! Can I request something with Dad!Hotch? Maybe him and fem!reader talk about/are expanding their family and are having a family day with Jack? Or something? (anon)

a/n: for the sake of this request, lets pretend this scene was when jj was having michael, not henry

masterlist

join the discord

author: abby<3

words: 1089

cw: pregnancy, talks of having a child, going into labor

It started with JJ, not so subtly, going into labor.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am not a doctor - I don’t even play one on TV but I believe young JJ’s going into labor,” Penelope’s own shaky voice echoed through the break room. Y/N’s hand reached out to grab Hotch’s wrist in shock. His eyes met hers, widened slightly. He cleared his throat, setting down the coffee pot.

“I’ll get the car.” Her eyes followed his body’s steady pace down the hall to the elevator, a soft smile against their mouth.

Y/N moved to buzz around JJ’s form, a gentle hand resting against her back alongside Emily and Garcia’s. JJ’s voice was nervous as her friends fluttered around her, “I need to call Will.”

Y/N chuckled, hand rubbing small circles against her spine. “We can call from the car, Jayje, but right now we need to get to the hospital.”

The SUV was already parked at the curb, Hotch holding the passenger door open.

Always the gentlemen.

JJ’s huffed breathing filled the front of the car while Emily, Garcia, and Y/N were all stuffed in the backseat. Aaron’s eyes flitted from the road to the mirrors, to the heaving pregnant coworker in his passenger seat. “Just breathe JJ.”

“I am, Hotch,” she winced, a hand rubbing over her protruding belly. “But please don’t kill us with your reckless driving.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, smile flitting to the rear view reflection to meet Y/N’s eyes. Her face matched his. He soothed further. “We’re almost there okay? Just hold on tight.”

Her heart thrummed in her chest, his affection for his subordinates peaking through the exterior he usually put on for show at the office. His concerned gaze following JJ’s movements next to him, a small smile permanently on his face.

Will’s concerned face paced the entrance to the hospital, black dress shoes had to be wearing the sidewalk thin.

“Honey,” his panicked voice called out as the SUV pulled to a stop. His hands fell to her back, pressing a kiss to her smiling lips. “I’m fine, Will.”

Y/N and Aaron stood at the parked car, watching as their friends ushered JJ inside. His own hand moved to rest on her back. “Should we go in there?”

“They’ll be fine without us.” He smiled, palm rubbing calming circles against their spine. “They don’t need us crowding them even more.”

She pouted slightly, before nodding her head. “Do we have to go back to the office?”

“No,” he laughed, moving back to the driver’s door. “I’m giving us the weekend off.”

~~~~~~

It was hard to tell who was more excited to spend time with each other at home - Jack or his parents. Aaron had slept in as late as possible, waking up at 8 to put a pot of coffee on for himself, a kettle heating on the stove for his wife.

Sock-clad feet shuffled against the floorboards to the kitchen, arms wrapped around Aaron’s middle. Y/N hummed against his back, “Good morning.”

“Morning, love,” the deep timber of his voice vibrated through his chest. “Is Jack awake yet?”

She chuckled as she pulled away from the warmth of his body. “Do you really think he would be awake this early if he didn’t have to be?”

“...No.” He laughed as he poured a spoonful of honey into her tea. “Here you go sweetheart.”

“Thank you, baby,” she pecked his lips with hers. “Do you have plans for today?”

He hummed, settling into the seat next to her. “We’ll see what Jack wants to do. We’ve got two days.”

As if his own small ears were burning, Jack’s feet thumped down the stairs. “Where’s Aunt Jess?”

“Good morning, baby,” Y/N hummed, pulling her stepson into her side. “We don’t have to go to work today.”

His eyes went wide, a large smile creeping up on his face. “Really? We get to hang out today?”

“Yeah, bud,” Aaron smiled over to him. “What do you wanna do today?”

He paused for a second, a dramatic sigh leaving his chest - one far too big for his small form. “Can we do a movie day?”

Y/N’s eyes flitted to her husbands. “You just wanna stay here?”

He nodded against her chest. “Maybe we can make a fort?”

“I think we can do that.”

~~~~~~~

The fort was something of an architectural masterpiece. Aaron and Jack had somehow made it tall enough for the adults to kneel in, blankets and pillows covering the floor of the living room.

Jack has chosen to watch Captain America(again), his ultimate joy finding itself in the one liners and fighting scenes of Steve Rogers. The small family had huddled together, all of their bodies pressing into each other.

“Can we ask Aunt JJ if Henry can have a sleepover soon?” Y/N made eyes over to her husband, a small smile resting on her rested face.

“Sure, honey, but things might be a little different now,” she almost laughed as his little face scrunched under the glow of the TV.

“What do you mean?” Her fingers carded through his dusty blonde hair.

“Well, Aunt J had her baby,” Aaron said softly. “Henry’s got a little baby brother now.”

“A brother?” His eyes went wide. “Whoa.”

Jack’s parents chuckled against their son, his reaction more dramatic then they had been expecting. He continued. “I want one.”

“Want what?”

“A brother- or a sister would be cool too.”

If Jack noticed the pause in the air, he didn’t mention it. Their laughter stilled, a mixture of shocked expressions resting on their faces. “Would-” Aaron cleared his throat as she stuttered. “Would you really want that?”

“Yeah,” he said excitedly. “I’ve wanted one for like 3 years, Dad.”

Aaron sputtered as his wife laughed on the ground. Her fingers went to his sides, Jack’s giggle echoing against the blanket walls. “Oh really?” She laughed. “You’ve wanted one for years, huh? Wanna be a big brother huh?”

Aaron’s chuckled mingled with his son’s cradling him to his chest as his wife blew raspberries against his belly. Only when he was near tears did his stepmother let up. She pressed him to her chest, happy smiles resting on both of their faces. Aaron pulled her to his side. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

Y/N’s head shot up from it’s resting place on Jack’s head, a bright smile lighting the small space. “Really?”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah baby, really.”

[reidjumpers]

Here Comes the Sun: Dumplings

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: mentions of food, some curse words, domestic bliss, Spencer being a little anxious

Series Summary: a journey of going through parenthood with Spencer Reid

Chapter Summary: When Spencer woke up to you making dumplings in the dining table, he knew he was in trouble.

Note: welcome to the first chapter of dad!Spencer series! For those who have faint heart, fear not, because I am not mean and I write this so we can all have serotonin boost together. Enjoy!

prologue, next chapter, series masterlist.

Nobody in their right mind would ever call Spencer Reid a fool. He might have encountered people that underestimate him or didn’t think he was as smart, yes, but no one would ever call him a fool. Not even when Emily joked about his IQ getting slashed into 60 in the presence of a beautiful woman. He had to silently agree with that statement. How could he not? In front of him was a very beautiful woman that he had the luxury to call her his wife. His beautiful, gorgeous, very understanding, intelligent wife.

But right now he definitely felt like a goddamn fool.

When Spencer woke up to an empty bed and the apartment smelled distinctively sweet like the bakery, he thought he was waking up on a really good day. But when he walked out the bedroom and spotted you sitting at the dining table calmly, a hum of songs from the speaker played in the background, and a stack of dumpling skin placed on the table, he knew he was in the doghouse.

It was common knowledge that whenever you’re stressed or upset upon something or someone, when life seemingly wants to fucks you over and over, you’d channel it through baked sweets or as strange as it sounds, dumplings. He never knew witnessing you silently make dumplings on the dining table with freshly baked cookies on the counter would be such a terrifying and worrisome sight to see.

Spencer stood silently in the doorway, rocking on his heels forward and backwards. He was quiet and careful not to burst the bubble of your own world. His mind started to run a few scenarios inside his head over and over, trying to walk through every minute by minute of every event in his life that had led him into today.

“Hey,” he greeted you after two solid minutes of thinking and couldn’t come up with any answer. His voice was gentle to not startle you as he pulled a chair across yours.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you teased. It was 11:15 AM, you were most definitely saying that just to tease him.

Spencer rolled his eyes at your jab, silently reached for the dumpling skin in front of him and started to fill it with the filling. He had done this thousands of times over to know the right way to make dumplings. Your first few dates with him consisted of homemade dumplings and sipping wine. He was honored when you showed him how to make dumplings the way your grandmother did it, grinning as you said it’s a family secret and he promised to keep it as one.

“Are we having a guest?” Spencer asked as he put his own dumpling carefully into the designated plate. His dumpling would never be as good as yours no matter how much he tried, but he was proud that it was passable enough to your standard.

“No?” you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing up from your own dumpling. “Why?”

“You make more dumplings than usual,” he pointed out.

“Oh,” your voice was soft, barely audible, and he nearly missed it. “Didn’t realize that.”

Spencer nodded, reaching for another dumpling skin to soothe his worry away. Study has shown that repetitive action proven to soothe anxiety and increase focus. He could recite the study in his sleep, forward and backwards without stuttering. But the damned repetitive action of making dumplings didn’t work for him right now.

He cleared his throat. It is now and never. He would have to kiss his husband of the year trophy goodbye if he couldn’t figure out for his life what makes his wife this upset. “Hon?” he called for your attention.

You let out a hum of acknowledgement, eyes didn’t leave your dumpling for a second. It made the corner of his lips twisted downwards.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked gently, mindful not pressing you into telling him things. He knew you would never keep things away from him. You would tell him eventually, but he needed to hear it.

You, however, just scrunched your nose adorably in confusion. “Talk about what?”

“You bake cookies and make dumplings, and it’s just…” he craned his neck to take a glance towards the hanging clock above the cabinet. “It’s not even twelve yet.”

You blinked at his statement. “I’m hungry.”

“You do stress bake,” he patiently pointed out. Placing his yet another passable looking dumpling into the designated plate, he let out a sigh. “You also make dumplings when you’re stressed or upset. And now you do both first thing in the morning.”

“You know me so well, huh? You should marry me if you know me so well.”

“Already did, nine months ago,” Spencer rolled his eyes at your humor, but a smile graced his lips. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

You blinked at him again, nose scrunched up in confusion at his question. Spencer could feel silence slowly settling in, filling the gaps between you and him. His mind started to make a list of things that you like, making mental notes to make a short trip to a grocery store to pick up your favorite ice cream and take a reroute towards the flower shop he saw a week ago and picked up a bouquet of roses.

He was in the middle of mentally reciting his apology for fucking up when he heard you burst into a laughter. It took him a moment to register that the sound of you cackling so hard was not a mere figment of his imagination. He saw you laughing so hard, head thrown backwards overwhelming the small dining room.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccupped, wiping away tears from your eyes with your sleeve. Spencer would’ve smiled at the sight if he weren’t so puzzled. “Babe, are you really thinking I’m mad at you because I bake cookies and make dumplings?”

Spencer sputtered, “How could I not!” he huffed, throwing his hands into the air dramatically as you laugh upon his misery. “I was so worried! You always either bake or make dumplings when you’re upset, but never both! And now you do both and you keep dodging my question.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you said defensively between your laughter. You cleared your throat, not wanting to make the pout on Spencer’s lips even more prominent. “I guess my brain really associated cookies and dumplings as something comforting. I crave for some comfort food, and my brain just screams, ‘cookies and dumplings!’ I didn’t mean to make you worried, I’m sorry.”

“This much? You’re really hungry, huh?”

“Pretty hungry since I’m eating for two now.”

Spencer froze on his spot, his hand stopped midair before he was able to reach for another dumpling skin. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. “W-what?”

You just smiled cheekily at him. You got up from your seat and walked towards the kitchen, leaving him alone flabbergasted at your statement. You came back a minute later, a wide smile at your face and your hand tucked behind your back.

“Ta-da!” you cheerfully said, placing baby shoes on the table in front of him. Spencer let out a soft gasp, cooed at the sight of how tiny the shoes are.

“Are you…? Are we…?”

“Pregnant,” you finished his sentence for him with a wide grin. “I found out during our case in LA and I was meaning to tell you earlier, I swear! But the case got a little crazy and we’re whisked away into doing a lot of things at once.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, staring into the baby shoes with eyes full of awe. The news still felt unreal for him, artificial, but the warmth blooming on his chest that slowly spreading through his system left him fuzzy. A small reminder that it was as real as he wanted to be.

You probably have mistaken his silence for something else as you shifted your weight from one foot to another. You started to fidget with the hem of your shirt, eyes not meeting his. “I know we agree to wait for a year, but–”

Spencer practically leaped from his seat and scooped you into his arms. His smile was so wide that his cheeks started to hurt. You let out a small yelp as he spun you around before he placed a tender kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he said between your kisses, grinning as he stole a few more small kisses.

You giggled between his kisses, your hand flew into his face and patted his cheeks as he assaulted your face with his lips. “I love you too, you big goof.”

“A baby, huh?” Spencer let out a happy sigh after he spared your life from his kisses. His hand nestled on your waist, gently swaying you in his arms. “We’ve got to start baby proofing the whole place, make sure there are no sharp edges,” he rambled.

“Spencer–”

“I’ll go to the bookstore and pick up some book about baby names! Do you think Jason is a good name?”

“I think–”

“Oh, we should start shopping for some clothes and socks too. Make sure they’re warm–”

“Spencer!” you interrupted his rambling with your hands squishing his face. You smiled at him as he blinked his eyes towards you slowly, a little fazed that you broke his train of thought. “I love all the planning ideas, but right now let’s just focus on making dumplings and feed three of us, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed out, slowly collapsing into his seat again. “Okay. Dumplings…” he muttered to himself, grabbing the dumpling skin in front of him. “But seriously, what do you think about the name Jason?”

“It’s a lovely name.”

“Oh, common ground. I like that.”

====================================

Series tag list:

@measure-in-pain @wooya1224 @reidemandweep @manuosorioh

[fighterkimburgess]

This Wasn’t Supposed To Happen Chapter 21 - Us

Summary: Sylvie and Kelly find out more about their second child, and what family means becomes clear to everyone. Series Masterlist Here

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: doctors appointments

Wanna join my taglist?

—

If there was one thing that her first few weeks taught Sylvie, it was that she wasn’t set up for desk work. She could do the job, but she lived for hearing about the calls from everyone. As nice as it was to leave at five every day, she missed her uncomfortable bunk.

Kelly hovered around her multiple times, checking if she needed anything and bringing her plates of lunch. She tried waving it away - most of the clerical staff didn’t eat with the firefighters and paramedics - but he insisted she ate. It was a weird mixture of being with the folks who went on calls, but she was out of the loop on a lot of things. Plus, she met the folks from the other shifts so she got to learn a little more from them.

Her cast was off and she was doing physical therapy to regain the strength in it. Her ribs were healed, and the day she was able to lift Andy up and cuddle him made her so much happier than she thought she would have been. He grasped onto her and held on, his head in her shoulder as they both enjoyed it. She caught sight of Kelly watching them, tears in his eyes as he took the portrait in front of him in.

Her belly kept getting bigger, the pregnancy that she’d been roughly able to hide now impossible to. It was uncomfortable at the best of times, the weight in front of her different to anything else she’d ever had. Kelly had started helping her rub moisturiser in, giving her a massage. He was there and present for everything they had to do, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

But it was time for their anatomy scan, to fully meet their baby and get to grips with really becoming parents. They’d spent the week before explaining the idea of a baby to Andy. He didn’t really understand it fully, but he’d started running up to Sylvie when she was sitting down and yelling “BABY” to her.

Walking into Med she felt safe, no visible injuries anymore and nothing that would mean she had to stay behind. Everything was going well, flutters in her stomach making it so obvious to her that yes, this baby was growing. Kelly couldn’t feel them yet, but she thought he’d feel it soon. They came into the scan room, Sylvie sitting up on the bed in the middle of the room as Kelly sat beside her.

“Are you scared?” He asked, his voice a bare whisper.

“Terrified. I keep remembering when Gabby was at this stage. But I’m not her, and this pregnancy isn’t the one that ended up with Andy. I’ve never seen someone have an easy pregnancy. We’ll see how it goes from here. But we’re together, right?”

“Even without the baby I’d still be here. You’re not getting away that easily, Brett.”

The technician arrived in, smiling at Sylvie and Kelly as she set up the machine.

“This is your first pregnancy I saw on your chart. Are you excited to be parents?” She asked, Sylvie nodding.

“We’ve got a seventeen month old, but yeah, we are. I’m excited to make sure this little one is safe and healthy.”

“And so I can win the bet with everyone,” Kelly interjected, an eyebrow raise in response. “We work together, our coworkers are convinced she’s having a girl because every child born to our friends has been a boy so far. Purely because of that I think it’s a boy.”

“You just don’t want to have to deal with being the only girl dad. You’re better with Andy!” It was the strange look from the technician that made her continue, addressing her instead. “We adopted our godson after his parents died in a car crash. So first pregnancy, second child.”

“Aww, I love that. This will be cold, but lets see this baby.”

The scan took a lot longer than any of the others, the technician taking measurements and watching how the baby was growing. Sylvie stared at their child on the screen, Kelly gripping her hand in both of his. Every few moments he’d press a kiss to her fingers, squeezing lightly as he stared. She’d have sworn that there was tears in his eyes as he watched the screen, a hand waving and Sylvie shivering at it.

“Can you feel it?”

“Yeah. You’ll feel it soon too.”

“And lets hear that heartbeat. Do you want to know the sex?”

“Yes.” They answered simultaneously as they listened to the pitter patter of the heartbeat, the rapid thumps that told them their child was right there and would be ok.

“Let’s see if if this child is shy. Oh, nope, he’s not.”

“It’s Kelly Severide’s child, of course he’s not…he?” Sylvie trailed off and stared at the smiling technician.

“You’re having a perfectly healthy baby boy. Andy will have a little brother.”

They got the photos printed and stared at them as they waited to go into the doctor, looking carefully at their son. 

“I know we’ll probably argue about a middle name, but he’s Matthew, isn’t he?” Sylvie asked, watching Kelly force himself to hold his emotions together.

“Yeah. Fuck. I always thought if I ever had a kid I’d have Matt and Andy here with me. They’d tell me I was doing the wrong thing, stop me from killing my kid. But they’re gone.”

“We’ll keep them alive for the boys. They’ll learn all about their dad’s friends, about the men we named them after. So Andy can know about his dad, and our Matt can know about the two of them. Our boys aren’t going to grow up not knowing about them.”

“It’s weird, y’know? Andy’s ours, but he’s yours. I don’t have anything legal for him.”

“We’ll fix that. Before Matt arrives.” 

“The name suits him.” Kelly rested his hand on her bump, and they sat with their joint grief in the waiting room, the pain hitting them again. This time instead of dealing with it alone they held onto each other, encouraging the other to know that there was someone there.

When they came back into the office their hands stayed linked, even when the doctor came in. Sylvie refused to let go of the comfort that Kelly gave her.

“I can confirm everything looks normal here, folks. Baby Brett is growing well, and you’re dating at twenty two weeks. Does that sound about right?” She asked, Sylvie nodding.

“Yeah, it’s right. Kind of hard to believe at this point that I’m more than halfway there.”

“It’s just going to go faster. Have you got anything set up yet?” Kelly nodded at the question.

“We’ve got all the furniture from our oldest, so that’s easier. Plus a lot of his clothes I think.”

“I thought this was…” She trailed off, flicking through Sylvie’s file.

“My first pregnancy. We adopted our eldest last year.” Her words left no space to argue with her, a nod from the doctor.

“Ah, understood. Thanks.”

The rest of the appointment went more smoothly, and they slipped into Kelly’s car. His hand barely left hers apart from when she got into the car, and even when he got into his side he took it again.

“I meant what I said, you know.” Kelly turned his head as they were at a stop light. “I’m getting in touch with the court, we don’t even need a lawyer. You’re Andy’s dad, you’re adopting him. As long as you want to.”

“Yeah…yeah I do. I didn’t think you wanted me to do it.”

“There’s nobody else I’d rather do it. I mean it.”

They were quiet on the rest of the drive, both caught in their own thoughts. It was so much to deal with, Sylvie’s mind spinning. They’d started running as soon as the relationship had started, and part of that scared her. But as she thought about it it was completely right. They’d had so many false starts, and was it really them if they didn’t rush through the traditional relationship stuff?

“Where are we going?” Sylvie asked as they passed the turn they should have taken instead heading towards Wicker Park.

“Molly’s. Herrmann asked me to stop by, is that ok?”

“Sure.”

She pulled out her phone and started going through the list of things she’d need that she’d written. Most of it she already had from Andy so she could delete a lot of it, especially the clothes. They had enough anyway. A little part of her was disappointed that she wouldn’t get to do the usual pregnancy things, but it was how things happened. She’d still rope Kelly into coming shopping with her for a new stroller that could fit the two boys in it. But they had to get a toddler bed for Andy, turning what had been Kelly’s room into the new nursery for Matt. They could see how things went as time continued.

When they pulled up to Molly’s the lights were off, Sylvie staring at the bar.

“Are you sure he’s here?”

“He’s doing inventory. Coming in? And are we gonna tell him the sex?” Kelly smiled that crooked smile, and she felt her heart beat a little faster.

“He won’t give up if we don’t tell him, so yeah. Let’s do it.” 

Kelly walked into the bar first, holding the door open as Sylvie came through it. But inside were all their friends and coworkers, balloons and smiles on faces as they yelled surprise at her.

“What…what is this?” She asked, staring at them all.

“Your baby shower. It’s your first pregnancy, you’re getting spoilt.” Donna Boden was the first to greet her, arms wrapping around Sylvie with a smile on her face. Andy ran straight to her and Sylvie lifted him up, balancing him around her bump while she still could.

There was a pile of gifts for her, most of them things that were actually for Sylvie, rather than for the baby. There were pampering sets and boxes of chocolates, along with three really large boxes of diapers. They were from premie to a few months old, Sylvie smiling at them.

“This is from everyone at 51. If it doesn’t work we’ll get you the store credit and you can pick what you want, but they said it’d be ideal for you.” Boden pushed a huge box into the middle of the room, Sylvie staring at it. Kelly looked just as surprised to see it, but everyone was waiting for them to open it.

“Did we miss everything? We got stuck in traffic!” Sylvie turned to see her mom and dad rushing into the bar, slightly red faced and worried. But she grinned, both of them hugging her as tightly as they could.

“Gamma! Hi Gamma!” Andy said, insisting on getting into his grandmother’s arms. Monica just took him, revelling in the hug from her grandson.

“Mom, Dad, this is Kelly.”

“Mr and Mrs Brett.” He held out his hand, John taking it and shaking once before pulling Kelly in for a hug. Monica did the same with her free arm, kissing his cheek and making the younger man flush.

“You’re just in time, Mr and Mrs Brett. Do you want to sit?” Violet brought them around so Kelly and Sylvie could open the present, ripping the large sheets of wrapping paper from around it.

It was a multi child stroller, like one of the ones Sylvie had really wanted but thought they couldn’t justify. There was space for two children in it, and a standing board so if Andy wanted to stand as she pushed they could. The smile couldn’t leave her face as she looked at it.

“Thank you. All of you.” She couldn’t quite believe it, Kelly pressing a kiss to her temple as he smiled. He gave her a look and she nodded quickly, letting him give this news to their friends, their family.

“We found out today that we’re having a boy. We’re gonna name him Matthew.” The room burst into applause, tears in the eyes of the people who’d been close to Matt and Gabby. The rest of the afternoon was filled with hugs, people filing out until Kelly, Sylvie, her parents, and Andy were some of the last there.

“I’ll use the minivan to get the box to your place, don’t worry. Go spend time with your parents,” Herrmann told her, giving her a final hug. “We’re all happy for you. You know that, right?”

“I know. Thank you.”

They walked outside, Andy holding Kelly’s hand and grinning as he did.

“Do you want to get dinner? There’s a great diner a couple of blocks away, we stop in for milkshakes every so often.” There was an awkwardness between Kelly and her parents, but Sylvie was proud of him for making the effort with them.

“That’d be nice. It’s later than we thought, we should get on the road.”

“Stay with us.” Sylvie gawked at Kelly when he finished speaking. “Andy hasn’t seen you in a couple of months, we’ve a spare bedroom. If there isn’t anything you specifically can’t do here, stay with us.”

Monica and John mulled it over for a moment but nodded, looking at the little family. “Thank you, that’d be wonderful.”

They sat at a booth, Andy on the edge in a high chair. He kept grasping at everyone’s food, not content to eat his own toddler sized grilled cheese. But the mood was high among the four adults, things easing between them all. Even that evening once Andy was in bed they sat on the couch and watched a movie. Sylvie felt weird being held by Kelly with her parents in the room but she pushed that weirdness away, taking his hand and putting it on her belly when she could feel Matt’s kicks. He couldn’t feel them yet, but he smiled every time she did it.

The next morning Kelly had shift, Sylvie going into work with him. Cindy still took Andy for the full twenty four hours so they could keep him in a routine, and he wasn’t happy saying goodbye to his grandparents. But he got into the car with Kelly, Sylvie hugging them goodbye.

“Thanks for being here,” she murmured to her mom, a tight squeeze in response.

“It’s not every day our eldest has her baby shower. We’re so proud of you. And Kelly’s a good man. I know there’s been issues but I think you’re both happy now.”

“We are. I’m lucky.”

“Good. I’ll tell you when we get home.”

“Love you, Mom.” She pulled her mom in for another squeeze before doing the same to her dad.

“We love you too. Don’t be late.”

It was a quick drive, dropping Andy off and heading to 51. Before they got out of the car Sylvie pulled Kelly across to her, giving him a kiss. They tended to stop any PDA before they reached the firehouse, neither particularly comfortable with it in work. He looked at her confusedly before they got out of the car.

“My mom said you’re a good man.” His face brightened, the two holding hands as they got inside.

Her shift passed quickly, a wave to her friends and a squeeze of Kelly’s hand before she left. It was her normal night alone when Kelly was on shift, curling up on the couch with popcorn and House Hunters. Every few minutes the bowl on her belly would shake slightly as Matt nudged her. It was barely noticeable, but she knew she had to tell Kelly as soon as she could. He’d want to try feel the movements.

The next morning she got in early, Squad just returning from a call. When Kelly saw her he pulled her into a cuddle, holding her tightly against his chest.

“Bad call?”

“The worst. I just need to know you’re here.”

She held onto him, giving him the comfort and support he needed even in the middle of the app floor. He needed her and if she could give it to him then she would.

“I love you,” Sylvie whispered as he finally let go, her hand cupping his sooty cheek.

“I love you too. So much.” She got on tiptoes to kiss him, the bump almost but not quite getting in the way of what she wanted to do.

All too soon it was time for her to start work, a final goodbye to Kelly and checking in on everyone else who’d been at the fire. It was a gas leak in a home that had exploded, a family gone in a matter of seconds. She hugged and cared for everyone the same, making sure they knew she was there for them, But she had to sit and work, staring at her computer when she wanted to be there with her boyfriend and son, making sure Kelly was ok.

That night when she got home from work she wasn’t sure what was going on. The living area of the condo was quiet, nobody around.

“Kelly? Andy?  Where are you?”

“Mama! Bed Mama!” She followed Andy’s voice to her bedroom, stopping still at the doorway. Andy was in a mini suit, a grin on his face. Kelly was in a matching one, a yellow tie around his neck as he held Andy and smiled at Sylvie staring at them. The room was lit by electric candles, the soft light making it glow.

“I’m not dressed for anything fancy.” The words slipped out of Sylvie’s mouth as she watched them, Kelly smiling wider.

“You always look fancy. But this is you and me, and our boys. Because I want to remind you that we love you. There’s a dress and shoes on the bed, we’ve got dinner reservations.”

He left her to get dressed, Sylvie slipping on the full skirted outfit and doing a twirl. Kelly hadn’t left her much time but she did the most basic makeup before stepping out into the living room. Her boys were there waiting for her, a toothy grin on Andy’s face seeing her.

“You look beautiful.” Kelly kissed her gently, and Matt moved in her belly. She took her boyfriend’s hand and pushed it against where their second child had kicked, waiting for Matt to do it again. He did, Kelly brightening even more.

“That’s our boy?”

“That’s him. Let’s go to these reservations.”

As she walked out of the condo carrying Andy, Kelly close behind her, there was nothing else Sylvie Brett could have wished for in that moment. Despite the trials and struggles she had her boys and she couldn’t wait for their family to grow and be permanent.

[ragingbookdragon]

If All Of The Kings Had Their Queens On The Throne

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst, Mature Themes

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of the previous fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

When the door to The Haunt didn’t immediately open, she frowned and clicked the button. “Hey! Lemme in!”

For a moment, there was nothing, then she heard, “Apologies Miss Wayne. Ghost-Maker is busy training. Shall I alert him?”

She sighed. “Nah, just let me in and I’ll get him.”

“Of course.”

The doors split open, and she walked into the base, immediately rolling her eyes at the colors, or better yet the lack of color at all. She had no idea what spurred him to pick white as one of the main colors in everything he wore and used, but God if it didn’t make him look like a psychopath. A snort passed her lips at her little joke, and she wandered around the desk setup and through one of the curtained areas until she heard boxing gloves meeting a punching bag.

Gently tugging the curtain aside, she paused, leaning against the doorway, and watched his back. He was shirtless and had headphones in, as he usually was and did when he trained alone, and his muscles rippled each time he threw a powerful strike. She couldn’t help but watch him; he’d always been so diligent when it came to his training, and if she hadn’t known him better than she did, she would’ve assumed all he did was train. She was very fond of it though. Very fond of him.

“You going to stand there or are you going to get a set of gloves and spar with me?”

She shook herself from her thoughts to see him rounding the bag, throwing a devastating kick; she snorted. “No thanks, Ghost. I just got over having a cracked skull.” Walking over, she neared the space, but stayed just far enough that she wouldn’t get struck.

“I’m actually here to invite you over to the manor tonight.” She said, watching as his eyes flitted to hers behind the mask. “I take it you know.”

“About the little pool party Bruce throws for everyone? Yes. I keep hearing about it over the Ghost-Net.”

She smiled. “It’s a lot of fun, Ghost. You’d have fun.”

He scoffed. “What? Being surrounded by every single hero this side of the galaxy? No thank you, (Y/N). I’d rather not.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the punching bag and held it, looking at him. “You’re not going to make any friends if you spend all your time cooped up in here.”

“I’m not looking to make friends,” he retorted, throwing another punch that sent shock-waves through her arms to her core. “I’m here to clean up Gotham.”

(Y/N) gazed at him. “Sure I can’t persuade you?”

“Positive.”

She shrugged. “Then you leave me no choice.” Leveling him with a strong expression, she warned, “As the newest member of the Batfamily, you have to attend the pool party. It’s tradition and anyone who doesn’t, has to take patrol routes for everyone for a month straight.”

Ghost-Maker stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her. “You’re lying.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath dramatically, “Ghost, I never lie.” She looked to the ceiling. “Icon, run the conversations from my phone named, ‘Bat-Chat’ and tell him I’m not lying.”

After a moment, the AI’s voice came over, clear and positive. “Miss Wayne is correct, sir. Record texts have shown that those who do not attend the parties thrown by the family for the other superheroes are subject to various torture techniques.”

“What!” (Y/N) shouted. “No, we don’t!”

“You said on June eighth that your brother Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be swirlied for missing the party.”

She sputtered. “I was joking! We don’t swirly each other. We just force our patrol routes on each other.” (Y/N) glanced at Ghost-Maker. “If you don’t come, you’re going to take patrol from me, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Duke, and Damian. You really wanna patrol all month by yourself? All that territory? Think of the time and energy it’ll take, Ghost.”

Ghost-Maker stared her down for a minute, mulling over his choices, then he finally sighed, resigned to his fate. “Fine. I’ll come over tonight.”

(Y/N) grinned. “Nope, you gotta get ready now. We’re arriving together.”

“You annoy me.” He griped, bypassing her to the doorway, and she followed him towards the stairs and to his bedroom where he entered the bathroom and got in the shower. She waited on the bed, gazing around his room while he showered.

“Who all is attending this party? That you know for sure.”

(Y/N) blinked, taking a moment to think. “Uh, all of the Justice League, the Titans and Teen Titans, the Outlaws, a few Green Lanterns…and probably a few anti-heroes but we’ll see.” She shrugged. “So pretty much everyone we interact with on a normal basis.”

“I heard Harley is coming too.”

“Yeah, she’s technically part of the family at this point.” (Y/N) said. “She’d be upset if we didn’t invite her over.”

Ghost-Maker stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and she stood from the bed, wandering in behind him as he lathered his face in shaving cream.

“Trying to show out in front of everyone, Ghost?” she joked, leaving back against the door-frame of the small cabinet behind them.

“Bruce doesn’t keep himself kempt all the time. I do,” he remarked, flicking out the straight razor; he raised it to his jaw, and she hummed warningly, causing his brown eyes to meet hers in the mirror. “What?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I’m just worried you’ll cut yourself.”

“I’ve been shaving my face since I was fifteen, (Y/N).”

“So that scar on your cheekbone isn’t from cutting yourself?”

He gazed at her. “You know why I have that scar.”

“I do.” She answered, then leaned away from the wall, shifting until she was sitting on the bathroom counter in front of him. Taking the razor, she tilted his chin up and carefully, scraped it down his cheek before rinsing it. “I gave it to you when you called me a coward.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to hit me that hard.” Ghost-Maker replied, coffee eyes focused on her face; she felt exposed under his knowing gaze.

She chuckled. “I think that was the first time I really surprised you that I wasn’t just my brother’s twin sister following him around to make sure he was safe.”

“You can’t blame me for thinking you were. You never joined in the training.”

“I learned better watching then doing.” (Y/N) rinsed the razor and tipped his head back as she drug the instrument down the exposed skin of his throat. “Most people are fearful when someone holds a razor to their neck,” she murmured, carefully shaving his Adam’s apple.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Her hands stilled ever so slightly as she gaped at him. Normally he would’ve said, “I don’t feel fear” but now he said he wasn’t afraid of her. She wanted to hope it was because of what had occurred the last month, her confessing her feelings, him replying that he couldn’t love her like she did him—he’d not totally ruled out caring for her, at least that’s what she saw his words being. They’d not talked about it more than that night, merely going back to work, but she could tell that Ghost-Maker’s demeanor towards her had changed a minute amount. He watched her more. Was…softer with her.

(Y/N) smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” She rinsed the razor and looked over his face for a moment, then she grabbed the towel and wet it, gently brushing over the shaving cream still on his face. Patting his face dry, she nodded. “Looks good. No nicks.”

“Thank you,” he approved, but didn’t move, keeping his eyes on her and she couldn’t help but look down, suddenly nervous under his gaze.

Her eyes widened when she saw the expanse of his chest though and she reached up, fingers delicately tracing a jagged and raised scar in the middle of his chest. Even healed it looked angry and a bolt of sadness hit her in the heart.

“You’re sad.” He noted. For a psychopath who didn’t feel empathy, he was actually good at discerning when people felt sad—or maybe it was just because he’d known her so long.

(Y/N) nodded, whispering, “There aren’t many scars on mine and Bruce’s bodies that look like this one.” Her fingers moved to one on the right side of his ribs and she frowned. “We’ve always had someone to stitch us up, or we did it for one another. But I can’t help but wonder…” her eyes met his. “Who did it for you? Who stitched the ones you couldn’t reach and do yourself?”

Her chest hurt. “Who was there for you when I wasn’t?” she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the center of his chest. He was so warm, and she sighed, willing herself to not tear up. “I’m sorry, K.”

“For what?” he questioned, a hand coming up behind her, palm resting against the back of her neck.

“For leaving you behind,” (Y/N) answered, deciding then to wrap her arms around his waist, turning her face so her cheek rested to his chest. “I should’ve stayed with you.”

Ghost-Maker made a noise in his throat, and she wasn’t sure if it was agreement or bitterness. “And if you had, you wouldn’t have raised your family.”

She sighed. “Yeah…I know…but even during that time I couldn’t help but wonder how your journey was going. How you and your tech were evolving throughout the years.” (Y/N) pulled back slightly and looked at him. “I used to imagine what it’d be like to be there with you. To fight beside you. To live out your dream with you.”

His hand shifted from the back of her neck to cup her cheek and he tilted her head up, leaning down to kiss her. She closed her eyes, arms shifting from around his waist to wrap around his neck and his free hand gripped her waist, pulling her against him. Ghost-Maker shifted, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw as his fingers dipped under her thigh, pulling it up until (Y/N) got the hint to cock it around his hip.

“K,” she breathed as he sunk his teeth into her neck, biting hard enough that it had her inhaling sharply, fingers twisting in the dark hair at the nape of his neck. She felt him smile against her skin.

“What do you want?” he asked, pressing surprisingly gentle kisses to where he’d bit as the hand that was on her cheek lowered to push up the blouse that stopped at her waist. His fingers dipped underneath, rubbing against her skin and he asked again, this time firmer, “(Y/N), what do you want?”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could barely think, could barely form words. “I—”

A shrill beeping startled the two of them, well, her more than him, and she finally got herself to breathe. “That’s Bruce calling.” She uncurled one of her hands from his neck to reach for the phone in her pocket, but he caught it.

“Call him back.” Ghost-Maker said, grabbing a fistful of her blouse, starting to pull up.

(Y/N) shrugged his hand off. “If Bruce’s calling, it means he needs my help.” He pulled away and giving her a look, one she met firmly. “I need to take it.”

They gazed at each other for a moment and then he harrumphed, pulling away from her, and walked from the bathroom to his closest.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, answering it. “Hello?”

Are you on your way yet? The party’s already started and everyone’s asking where you both are.

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Yeah, he’s getting his swim trunks.” She glanced out the doorway. “You own trunks, don’t you, Ghost?”

“Do I somehow give you the impression that I’m incompetent?” he shot back, and she rolled her eyes.

“Ass.” She put the phone back to her ear. “We’ll be there in fifteen.”

Be careful. Love you.

“We will. And I love you too.” She ended the call and hopped off the bathroom counter, flicking off the lights as she walked out, seeing him throwing a bag over his shoulder.

“I’m ready to be bored out of my mind.” He grunted and she rolled her eyes again.

“Oh, shut up. You’re going to have a great time. I promise.”

Ghost-Maker glared at her as he pulled the white and black mask over his eyes and nose. “And how do you know?”

(Y/N) grinned, shoving him in the stomach as she walked past him. “Because I’m going to be there all night.”

***

“See!” she chirped as he sunk into the hot tub. “This isn’t so bad.” She handed him a drink. “Free drinks, laughter, and swimming. Fun, huh?”

He grunted, sipping the margarita she’d given him. “Your family and their friends are loud.”

(Y/N) looked over his head towards the other pool, grinning as her eldest nephew threw her youngest into the pool, then turned and threw his best friend. Laughter peeled from the entire group in the pool.

“Yeah…but that’s how you know they’re having a good time.” Her eyes drifted to Bruce who was fondly watching Jason and Roy grill, occasionally laughing as one of them told a joke. “Feelin’ good, Bruce?”

He took a sip of his brandy, sinking until his shoulders were covered by the running hot water. “Feeling great, (Y/N).” he held out his drink. “Put some ice in there? Please?”

She smiled and pulled her legs out of the hot tub, and really, it wasn’t exactly a hot tub because most were above ground, but Bruce being who he was, had redesigned it so that it and the pool were both in ground and connected.

Taking his glass, she rose and wandered over to the bar where a few of her friends were pouring drinks and chatting. “Hey Clark. Diana. How are you both tonight?”

Diana smiled and raised her wine glass. “I am well, (Y/N). How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” She said. “Clark, put an ice cube in here, would you?”

He did as she asked and dropped one in with the tongs. “I’m still surprised you got Ghost-Maker here. I assumed he wasn’t going to come.”

Her eyes flicked back over to the hot tub, and she watched Bruce tip his head back as he laughed, Ghost-Maker chuckling too; she smiled. “He’d never admit it, but he’s glad he came tonight. Anti-social as he usually is, he likes being included in things.” (Y/N) smiled at them and winked, walking back over.

She took her seat back on the side in the middle between Bruce and Ghost-Maker, handing her brother his brandy. “Clark licked all over the rim of your glass, Bruce. Just letting you know.” Feeling particularly childish, Bruce raised the glass to his lips and licked all around the glass. “You’re a child.” She remarked, then glanced to her side, seeing one of the Green Lanterns coming down the way.

“Kyle!” she greeted. “Join the fray!”

The artist smiled, then looked at the men in the hot tub. “I don’t want to intrude,” he said, and Bruce waved.

“Come on in.”

(Y/N) patted the wall between her legs and Kyle walked down the steps, shifting until his back pressed against the wall and she dropped her legs over his shoulders, fingers carding in his hair. “How’s it been going on Oa?”

He shrugged, sipping his beer. “It’s good. Can’t complain too much about saving the universe.”

She smirked. “Uh huh…and what’s this about you and Soranik?”

Kyle choked a bit on his beer, coughing slightly as she giggled. “It’s uh—complicated.” He tipped his head back, resting on her thighs so he could look up at her. “What about you? How’ve you been?”

(Y/N) sighed wistfully, combing back his hair. “Ain’t nothing changin’ but the weather…and the usual telling off the men in front of you for continually betting each other who can do the more stupid shit.”

At that, Kyle’s head tipped up and he first looked at Bruce, then to Ghost-Maker who merely drank from his margarita. “Uh…who’s that?” he asked quietly, and she snorted.

“Kyle, this is Ghost-Maker. Ghost, this is Kyle Rayner, the torch bearing Green Lantern.” She smushed his cheeks. “Isn’t he adorable?”

Ghost-Maker gave her an amused puff. “He is handsome, I’ll give you that.”

Kyle was glad the water had already flushed his skin because the way the man had flirted had made his cheeks warm. “Thank you.” He glanced back at her. “Is his name…?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he takes anonymity to a whole new level.” She tugged at a strand of his hair. “Did you know that only me, Bruce, and a few others know what he looks like and what his entire name is?”

He blinked in response. “That’s…hardcore secret identity, right there.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have any friends.” (Y/N) shot Ghost-Maker a grin. “But you can call him Ghost for short. It’s easier than the mouthful of Ghost-Maker.” The vigilante in return merely rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. “So, Kyle, have any new graphic novels in the works?”

“I do actually. Haven’t written them down but here’s an idea.” He brought up his hand out of the water and a green flash appeared in everyone’s vision. “See how you like it so far?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh in disbelief. “This is so cool.” She grabbed the construct comic book and flipped through it. “Who’s the main?”

“Haven’t named her yet. But she’s a transgender, pansexual Native American who solves crimes as a superhero.” His cheeks flushed. “I know it’s ironic because we’re superheroes, but I couldn’t help it, you know?”

She nodded, seemingly impressed. “Figured out which tribe yet?”

“I was thinking possibly Cherokee. Or Mohawk.”

“I’ve got a MTF Kanienʼkehá꞉ka friend who lives in Quebec.” She said. “I’ll give her a call about working with you on this.”

Kyle lit up like the morning sun. “Really, (Y/N)? You’d do that?”

She looked down at him and shifted her thighs a bit, bumping his head. “Of course. You’re one of my best friends.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” he grinned, and she chuckled.

“I love you too, loser.”

Suddenly the speakers thumped, and her head shot up, looking towards Tim and Bart who were giggling. She pointed at them. “HEY! THIS IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE SONG!”

They merely giggled more and suddenly everyone was singing along to the raunchy song, well, the teens and young adults were but not her and the older people.

(Y/N) shoved Kyle off as she got up and ran towards the speakers. “WAP IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE SONG TO PLAY AT A POOL PARTY! THERE ARE CHILDREN PRESENT! TIMOTHY JACKSON, YOU GET BACK HERE WITH THAT IPHONE! TURN IT OFF!”

***

She smiled sweetly at her family and friends passed out in the living room, pillows and blankets thrown everywhere, arms slung over bodies, heads on stomachs and backs. It was nice to see them all so comfortable with each other, so tightly knit; it reminded her of a better time.

Most of the adults had gone home though some had stayed in extra rooms. She was sure that her brother and him had gone down to the cave to have it out just for the hell of it, but she was rather tired and decided to call it a night—though it was actually one am.

Closing the door behind her, she didn’t bother to go shower, planning to do it in the morning as she started stripping. First went the swimsuit cover, then the top and bottoms. She kicked her flip-flops off into the corner of the room and stretched her arms above her head, a quiet groan passing her lips as her joints and bones popped.

As she lowered her hands, a hand clamped around her mouth and another wound around her waist, tugging her back and she gasped against their palm, starting to struggle when she heard them chuckle. The sound, combined with the familiar smell of sandalwood wafting up her nose told her who it was, and they smiled against her ear. “Worried?”

She reached up and yanked his hand from her mouth, hissing, “You’re lucky I didn’t turn around and punch the shit out of you, K.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind her ear and she shivered against his chest.

“What are you doing in here? I thought you and Bruce went to go spar?”

Ghost-Maker hummed, the hand around her waist starting to squeeze the flesh of her side. “We did. He said he was tired and went to bed.”

“And you didn’t go home?” her voice kicked up a notch when his other hand slipped from her grip and slid down her front.

“I didn’t want to go home.” He pressed his front against her rear and she gasped, one of her hands coming back to grab at his thigh, digging her nails in to keep him there. He smirked as she ground back against him. “Seems like you don’t want me going home either.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly. “Something’s up with you tonight. You’re being a lot more…passionate than usual.”

He nipped at her neck, fingers delicately dancing over her abdomen. “I don’t like that Green Lantern friend of yours.”

“Who? Kyle?” she questioned confusedly. “Why?”

“He’s very free with himself towards you.”

At that, it was crystal clear, and she spun in his arms, looking at him, though she had to strain to see his face. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” He griped, though the way his jaw set, told her the truth.

“You are!” she laughed. “You’re jealous that I’m close with other men. That’s adorable.”

Ghost-Maker stared at her for a split moment, then he bent down and grabbed her legs, throwing her over his shoulder. (Y/N)’s gasp turned into a laugh as he marched towards the bed and tossed her onto it, watching as she rolled onto her back and laughed some more at him.

“God, you’re green, K.” she giggled, watching with hooded eyes as he shucked the swim trunks down to his feet and crawled onto the bed.

“I’m not envious of a glow-stick who’s never gotten this far with you.” He countered, grabbing her ankles; he yanked her down the bed and underneath him and she gazed up at him.

“Do you wanna know how many men have gotten this far with me?” (Y/N) challenged and Ghost-Maker stared into her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter how many because once I’m done with you, you won’t remember anyone but me.” He lowered his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, trailing downwards and she panted in anticipation when,

CRASH!

They started, and this time, he did too, both turning to the door, then to each other.

“What the hell—”

“OH SHIT! SOMEONE PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

(Y/N) grunted. “Oh my God, what did they do?”

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE! OH MY GOD SOMEONE CALL NINE-ONE-ONE! OR THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!”

“AUNT (Y/N)! DAD!”

She rolled out from underneath Ghost-Maker, ignoring his grabbing for her and she hurried to her door, yanking the bathrobe from the hook on the back. Slinging it on, she turned and pointed at the man. “Once I’m done out here, I’m coming back and you’re not going anywhere for a few hours.”

He smirked as he collapsed onto his back, taking himself in his hand. She almost burst into flames at the sight, and he purred, “You might wish to hurry, (Y/N). Wouldn’t want to miss anything.” His words tipped into a groan as his hand shifted along himself, and she scowled at him as she pulled the door open, his erotic frame illuminating in the hall light.

“You’d better watch it, K. We both know how mean I can get when I miss out.”

[americancowgirl19]

Initials

Summary: Bucky and Steve finds their third soulmate in Wanda’s sister. Only problem is that she’s supposed to be dead, not Hydra’s new prized possession.

Warnings: fluff, angst, violence, slight gory details,

Reader: Female Enhanced Reader

Pairings: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,845

A/n: This is a soulmate one shot where your soulmates initials are imprinted on the insides of your wrists.... Might do a part two, not sure yet...

Masterlist

“We’ve got a new threat,” Maria says, entering the conference room. She tosses a thin file onto the table. The Avengers sitting at the table look at the file before Steve reaches for it. The only contents within the folder is a blurry picture and a list of confirmed kills.

“This is all we know?” Steve questions, his eyes flickering up to Maria. 

“That and this,” She says, motioning toward the screen. A moment later a grainy video plays. They observe the feminine figure completely take down a building of armed agents single handedly.

“Wait...” Wanda whispers, shifting to the edge of her seat. Maria replays the videos while others glance towards the her. “I know her,”

“Care to share with the class?” Tony questions. Wanda doesn’t respond right away, simply looks at the screen with misty eyes.

“Wanda, if you know who she is, we need to know,” Natasha explains lightly. Wanda blinks away the tears and clears her throat.

“She’s my sister,” She responds in a quiet voice.

“Excuse me, did you say sister?” Tony asks. “How many of you are there?” Everyone ignores him.

“Her names Y/n,” Wanda begins to explain. “She’s my older sister, she looked after Pietro and I when our parents were killed,”

“What happened to her?” Steve questions, while Bucky glances at his wrist wondering if his partner has the same feeling in his chest.

“She died,” Wanda says, glancing toward him. “Hydra approached the three of us about the experiments. They made all these promises and while my brother and I were quick to agree Y/n was more hesitant. Pietro and I wouldn’t listen to her concerns, we made it clear we were going to continue with Hydra with or without her,” Wanda admits regrettably. “We weren’t the only ones to be experimented on but Pietro and I were the only ones to survive,”

“And your sister?” Natasha questions.

“We were told she had died,” Wanda says. “Obviously they lied to us. They must have moved her to a different facility,”

“Do you have any idea of what she can do?” Steve asks.

“Before we were told she died she could heal quickly. When I say heal, I mean you could cut her arm off and a new one would grow back,” Wanda explains.

“Must be nice,” Bucky mutters. Steve continues to stare at Wanda but rests a hand on Buck’s thigh.

“It’s been years since then, I doubt that is all she can do now,” Wanda warns them. “I also know that she never wanted any of this. The only reason why she agreed was to try and keep the three of us together. Whatever she’s done, it’s not of her own free will,”

“We’ll find her and try to bring her in,” Steve says.

“We have experience with forced Hydra assets,” Bucky mentions. Wanda glances toward him. “We’ll help her,” He assures knowing Wanda’s worry about her sister getting hurt. She sends him a small smile.

Finding Y/n and bringing her in sounded much easier than it ended up being. Wanda had been right, advanced healing wasn’t the only ability she possessed. 

“Hey, guys,” Natasha breathes, through the coms. It had taken a few month to figure out how to find Y/n and now the team is trying to fight her in the middle of the woods. Trying. “You sense something familiar in her abilities?”

Once Natasha had asked the question, everything clicked. Hydra had found a way to replicate any ability the Avenger’s had and give it to Y/n. She had Thor’s lightening, Clint’s wicked accuracy, Natasha’s skill in combat, Bucky and Steve’s strength, Wanda’s magic, and even Pietro’s speed. None of them knew if she had the ability to turn into a Hulk and honestly didn’t want to find out. They had enough to deal with without having to add the Hulk to the equation.

“How are we going to stop her?” Clint groans, slowly pushing himself back on his feet. “She’s going to tear us apart one by one if we don’t figure something out,” He comments looking around for a silver streak.

“Steve,” Bucky mutters, standing back to back with his partner. “Maybe we could get through to her,”

“We don’t know if we’re right,” Steve replies.

“We’re right,” Bucky states, confidently.

“Even if we are we can’t get close enough to touch her,” Steve mentions, his head snapping to the side as Tony falls out of the sky and to the ground. Luckily it wasn’t a far fall. By the time Steve and Bucky got to him, Y/n was nowhere in sight.

“I know this chick is Wanda’s sister but I really don’t like her,” Tony groans as F.R.I.D.A.Y. gives him a run down on everything that’s damaged with his suit.

“I got an idea,” Bucky says, sharing a look with Steve.

“Whatever it is, hurry up,” Natasha whines, after being throne violently into Clint. “She’s play with us right now, sooner or later she’s going to go in for the kill,”

“Wanda, what’s your location?” Bucky asks.

“Half a mile to your right,” Wanda responds. Bucky spots her.

“Can you stop her?” Bucky asks. “Hold her in place long enough for Steve and I to get to her?”

“It will not be easy,” Wanda warns.

“Can you do it?” Steve snips, a bit. Wanda looks conflicted but slowly nods. “Then do it,” He orders.

“We have to get her to Wanda,” Bucky says.

“We’ll start luring her to her,” Clint grumbles, nocking another arrow. Within a couple of minutes, Y/n speeds past Wanda before forced to stop. Wanda grinds her teeth as she holds Y/n in place.

“I can’t hold her for long,” Wanda warns frantically. Bucky and Steve both race towards her. When they’re close enough, each of them grabs a wrist. A tingling feels waves through both of their bodies as their souls recognize their mate.

The sensation of Bucky and Steve initiating the bond with her along with the extensive use of her abilities causes Y/n to pass out in Bucky’s arms. The super soldier easily scoops her into his arms and holds her close.

“Couldn’t have done that earlier?” Clint breathes, pressing his hand against his side.

“Let’s get back to the jet,” Steve orders.

“We just going to ignore the fact that she’s your mate?” Tony asks.

“Not now,” Bucky barks. Tony raises his hands and follows them onto the jet.

“Bruce will be waiting to check on her,” Natasha tells them. The two soldiers nod before taking a seat. Bucky refuses to let her go and places her feet on Steve’s lap.

“I thought she was dead,” Wanda whispers, staring at her sister. “Yet all this time she’s been through god knows what with Hydra,”

“Well, she’s here now,” Steve tries to comfort her. “She’s safe,” Bucky rests his head atop of her head. He buries the anger he feels towards Hydra at what they’ve done to her. “She’s safe,” Steve repeats, this time staring at his boyfriend. Bucky gives him a small smile.

When they landed Bruce took her to medical and checked on her. He took blood samples and scanned her body. The entire time Wanda, Steve and Bucky hovered.

Bruce tried to explain what was going on with her cells but they didn’t exactly understand what he was saying. All that mattered is that she’s safe and healthy.

It took an additional two days before she finally began to wake up. At this point only Steve and Bucky sat by her bed. Wanda had gone off to get them food.

Almost immediately Y/n began to panic not recognizing her surroundings. Steve and Bucky quickly calmed her down with a simple touch and soft words. While it helped calm her movement it was obvious she was still on high alert.

Now that she’s awake, Bruce was able to do more tests. However, the moment he entered Y/n reacted protectively of not only herself but of her mates. Her powers lashed out and successfully knocked the doctor out before Steve and Bucky were able to explain that Bruce just wanted to help and that he wasn’t going to hurt any of them.

When Bruce woke up, Y/n was still weary of him but didn’t attack again. She trusted her mates and only relaxed when the tests were done and he left. 

“Where are we?” She whispers.

“New York,” Steve explains. “The Avenger’s tower,” She winces at the word ‘Avenger’.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bucky asks, hesitantly. She doesn’t answer for a few minutes.

“They wanted a weapon to defeat the Avengers,” She explains. “Someone strong enough to kill all of you,”

“You could have easily completed that mission, why didn’t you?” Steve asks. Y/n glances at him. The conflict is clear in her eyes.

“I don’t like killing,” She whispers. “I try to stop myself but I can’t do it all the time,” Bucky instantly picks up on the fact that Hydra had instilled the same compliance protocol in her as they had him. “When they sent me to kill you all, I tried to hold back. Give you a chance to... stop me,” Bucky grips her head knowing that ‘stop’ isn’t the word she had wanted to use.

“You’re strong,” Bucky tells her. She glances to him. “Not everyone can fight the control Hydra has. I couldn’t,” She frowns her eyebrows. Bucky shares a look with Steve before explaining his story to her. Steve chimed in here or there as well as going off on his own tangents with his own background stories.

At some point while talking, the three of them moved to Bucky and Steve’s floor within the tower to be more comfortable. The both of them knew the rest of the Avengers are hesitant to have her around, not knowing if she’s in control of herself or not. They all know that if her mind were to switch again and she tries to kill them, they’d be very lucky if they could stop her.

For almost a month, Y/n stayed on their floor. Bucky and Steve stayed with her, only venturing out if they needed something like food or clothes for Y/n. Throughout the month they learned about each other. Bucky and Steve were very open with her while she was more reserved with the details of her life.

What she did decide to explain were watered down stories of what happened to her in Hydra. She didn’t want to tell them all the gory details. 

She didn’t want to tell them that Hydra had tested how well her healing ability was by putting her through a meat grinder and watched her body slowly, and extremely painfully, put herself back together.

She didn’t tell them how they would electrocute her body for hours on end with no break in order to test how strong her abilities mimicking Thor were. Nor did she tell them about the grueling sparing matches that would have killed her should she have been a normal human.

Bucky had questioned her if they had tried to wipe her memories. She had to think for a moment before answering.

“They tried,” She remembers. “Multiple times but my mind would heal and bounce back too quick. It wouldn’t work. They had to find a way to get me to stop thinking about the past, to give up the little hope I clung too... They did it through the pain. They broke me to the point where all I would think about was how to live to the next day instead of reminiscing how I lived in the past,”

The anger Steve and Bucky felt whenever she explained anything about Hydra could not be measured. How they kept themselves from destroying the room is a mystery. Steve thought his anger towards Hydra was bad after everything that happened with the war and then with Bucky. But now it was amplifying as Y/n explains her story.

“I know I had a past... It’s just hard to think past the last few years,” She whispers.

“It’ll come to you,” Bucky promises, kissing the side of her head. She instinctively curls into his lap and he holds her to his chest. “The good memories will come, I promise,”

“What if I don’t have any?” She whispers, her eyes misting over.

“Then we’ll make some,” Steve tells her. He wraps both Bucky and Y/n in his arms. “We’ll make so many good memories you won’t think to remember the bad ones,” Y/n smiles, snuggling deeper in Bucky’s embrace.

It wasn’t until after several evaluations through Bruce, did Y/n leave the floor that had become her home. She started spending more time around the other’s but not without at least one of her mates right next to her.

There is one Avenger that seemed to be avoiding her.

“Do you mind if I come in?” Y/n asks, lightly knocking on Wanda’s door. At this point Y/n has been within the Avenger’s tower for about four months. She was slowly adjusting but it was happening.

“I shall give you two some privacy,” Vision states, standing from the bed he had been laying on with Wanda. Y/n gives him a polite smile and moves to give him room to walk out the door.

“You look better,” Wanda comments, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“I doubt I could have looked any worse than when you found me,” Y/n jokes. Wanda smiles a bit before patting the spot beside her. “You look so beautiful,” She whispers. “A little older than when I last saw you,” Wanda smiles, her head hanging a bit. “I’m sorry,” Wanda’s head snaps towards her.

“Sorry?”

“I couldn’t keep us together,” Y/n whispers, tears brimming her eyes. “I left you in that facility... I left you and Pietro,” Y/n’s voice chokes at his name. “I left you to deal with his death alone,”

“No, no, you didn’t have a choice,” Wanda reaches to pull her into a hug and Y/n clings to her. Both of them being to cry in each other’s arms. “It’s my fault... If we weren’t so damn stubborn non of this would have happened,” Wanda laughs pitifully. Y/n hugs her sister even tighter. “We thought you were dead... If we had known-”

“I know,” She whispers, puling from the hug. They both wipe their tears.

“He missed you so much,” Wanda whispers. “We both did,”

“Well, I’m here now... And I have you to thank for that,” Wanda smiles, shrugging slightly.

“What are sister’s for?” They smile at each other and quickly go in for another hug, this time neither of them pulling away for some time.

While mending her relationship with her sister was a large step in the right direction, Y/n still had a long journey a head of her. It wasn’t until 7 months in the Avenger’s facility did she realize that she’s not the only one trying to heal from her past.

In the beginning, when Y/n was cleared to leave medical, she had been offered her own space. Her fear of being left along meant that her own room was being used as a large closet while she spent her nights safely tucked between two large super soldiers. 

Usually, her whimpers and moving around is what wakes the other two up. However, tonight it’s not her nightmares that are causing problems.

“Bucky?” Y/n groans, slowly waking from her sleep. A moment later Bucky’s body is shooting up and his chest is heaving violently. “Bucky, baby?” Y/n sits up, shoving Steve’s arm off of her. “Honey, look at me,” She whispers, gently caressing his chin. His body tenses as he involuntarily flinches from her. “It’s ok... It’s alright,” She whispers, not forcing him to look at her but encouraging him.

“Hi,” He whispers, sweat dripping down his forehead. She sends him a calm, comforting smile as she wipes the drops away.

“Hey,” She whispers back. “It’s ok... They’re just nightmares... I won’t let them hurt you,” She promises. Bucky stares at her before pushing their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” He mutters.

“Don’t,” She shakes her head, bumping their noses together. “I’ve woken you both up countless times, it’s nice to help you for a change,” Bucky smiles, slithering an arm around her waist. He hauls her on top of him as he lays back down. She props her head up and gently rubs his chest. “Do you want to talk?”

“No... Just wanna look at ya, doll,” He whispers, his hands gently gliding up and down her sides. She smiles, her head nuzzling into his neck as his hands slip under her shirt to caress her skin. It’s only a couple of minutes before Steve is rolling closer in his sleep, his need to be as close as possible to them shinning through even while in dreamland. 

“We’re going to be ok, Buck,” She whispers to him. His arms tighten around her.

“That’s right, baby doll,” Bucky mutters, kissing her head. “We’re going to be just fine,”

[kaeyasaki]

📹 — :; “face-to-face” GQ interview

-> inspired by the “face-to-face, A$AP rocky answers 18 from rihanna | GQ interview”, except i make the questions a little more personal because i don’t think anyone cares what gojo’s ‘fav curse word is’

-> ft :; gojo satoru

-> interview writing layout heavily inspired by @rintaroll

y/n: hey GQ! i’m here to do face-to-face with my co worker, gojo!

gojo: coworker? is that all i am to you?

y/n: be grateful i even acknowledged you.

gojo: you wound me.

y/n: yet you’re still smiling.

gojo flashes a playful frown to the camera as y/n roll their eyes before pulling out a stack on cards.

y/n: so first question, what’s the hardest part about working with me?

gojo: everything.

y/n: i’m serious.

gojo: and so am i, you make it hard for me to work with you because we never get anything done.

y/n: don’t make it sound like it’s my fault! we never get anything done because you get too distracted and drag me into it!

gojo: maybe you should discipline me more...

he teases and sends you a wink to which you dismiss quickly.

y/n: you’re a grown man, you shouldn’t need me to discipline you.

gojo: what if i want you to?

y/n: would you just answer the question seriously or i’ll really start to think you don’t think we work well together!

gojo: okay, i was kidding... you’re actually a pretty good teammate when we’re sent on missions together, i have fun with you... maybe a little too much fun...

y/n: don’t give them the wrong idea we’re nothing like that!

you cringe at him as he laughs before the camera cuts moving onto the next question

y/n: okay, second question, answer seriously from now on, got it?

gojo: anything for you~

y/n: you disgust me... anyway, how well would you say you take care of yourself?

gojo: you mean like... self care wise?

y/n: yeah, like self care!

gojo: hmm well, i’d say i take care of myself pretty well, after all, pampered men are attractive men right?

y/n: i mean sure, i think it’s attractive when a man takes care of himself but if that mans you... maybe not so much.

gojo: you don’t mean that! you must be somewhat attracted to me.

y/n: can’t say i am no.

gojo: lying is a sin you know.

y/n: you’re totally straying away from my initial question.

you groan and face the camera and gojo tilts his head and laughs.

gojo: sorry, well, i’d say i clearly look after myself very well which should be to your liking.

y/n: you’ll never be to my liking, but it’s nice to hear you take care of yourself well and that you’re not just an annoying man, but rather an annoying but hygienic man.

gojo: you’re so horrible to m-

the camera cuts as you start laughing and gojo starts whining.

y/n: we’re getting through these quickly now let’s keep it that way.

gojo: you know, we’d be half done by now if you stopped insulting me every chance you get.

y/n: i’m the quizzer, you’re the answerer, you answer when spoken to.

gojo turns to face the grinning camera crew behind the cameras on set.

gojo: now do you see what i have to put up with! i’m a victim i’m telling you!

camera man: no no, keep it up, you guys have nice chemistry

y/n: chemistry? not to be rude but you must’ve failed science, the only clear dialogue between us is practically conversation between an adult and child.

the camera crew laugh and gojo feigns offence before you clear your throat and look at the next card.

y/n: anyways, when was the first time you were majorly recognised as ‘famous’?

gojo: ah, a long time ago i need to think, give me a sec.

you pretend to yawn as gojo thinks about his answer before smiling at you.

gojo: my second year i think. that’s when i really started getting noticed for my talent.

y/n: practically a star since birth i see, how do you do it?

gojo laughs at your sarcasm as you grin back, evenly matched banter between the two of you flowing on set.

gojo: i’m handsome and gifted, i was made for this kinda life, it all comes naturally to me.

y/n: you know what doesn’t come naturally to you though?

gojo: hm?

y/n: that dress sense.

gojo: what’s wrong with my outfit?

y/n: bland, basic, and the way you chose itadori’s uniform was just straight up ugly!

gojo: he liked it!

y/n: the poor boy probably didn’t have the heart to express his disgust to your face.

gojo: well, until he does i’m gonna believe he likes it and my dress sense is more than up to standard.

y/n: if that’s what helps you sleep at night i guess...

the camera cuts with the two of you playfully bickering with each other, any previous speculation of hostility now gone as it’s clear for watchers to see just how your dynamic together works.

y/n: question four! what’s the first thing you notice in a person?

gojo: in general or when analysing to an extent?

y/n: in generals fine.

gojo: hm i would say looks, but i don’t wanna look too shallow on camera.

y/n: they would’ve just recorded you saying that. don’t be shocked if you’re trending on twitter later for it.

gojo: it’s fine, as long as i’m trending who cares what it’s about.

y/n: i can see the headlines already... ‘gojo satoru, top sorcerer, favoured teacher at jujutsu high and big narcissist’

you smile smugly at the man as he laughs along with you with the camera crew from behind.

gojo: yeah yeah whatever you say, but if i had to answer honestly, i’d say what energy they give off. i don’t let it bother me too much, but i’d say i’m pretty good at judging what someone’s like based off of what energy they’re giving out.

y/n: i’m shocked, that’s a pretty good answer... for you anyway.

gojo: i try my best for you.

y/n: mhm sure, keep that attitude next time we’re working together and maybe we’ll finish jobs quicker.

gojo snickers and smiles gently at you, his direction is no longer faced towards the camera, but rather solely directed at you as you clear your throat.

y/n: yeah anyway, good answer. that might just get you uncancelled.

gojo: i haven’t even been cancelled yet don’t speak it into existence!

y/n: i’ll ‘try my best for you’

you’re both smiling softly at each other after you mock one of gojo’s previous replies, there’s no speech cut off as a comfortable silence rests for a moment as the scene cuts.

y/n: okay, i want genuine answers only.

gojo: that’s what i’ve been giving you from the start!

you jokingly narrow your eyes at him before looking down at the next card.

y/n: well okay then, so, what was the first thing you noticed about me when we first met?

gojo: unusually bold question from you.

y/n: just shut up and answer, i was recommended to ask this.

gojo: sure, sure.

y/n: would you please just answer so we can get this over with?

gojo sighs dramatically and sits up properly and nods.

gojo: naturally, for anyone else i would say energy but for you, ah, i think it was your pretty face.

y/n: shut up, i said genuine answers only.

gojo: i am being genuine! aren’t i allowed to call you pretty?

y/n: you aren’t allowed to answer falsely, serious answers please.

gojo: you make me sound like i’m down bad, honestly, you’re very attractive to me, your energy was just a bonus, i’m serious, stop doubting yourself so much.

he smiles your way, not playfully nor forced, it’s a soft and genuine smile to calm your nerves, it’s a sign of truthfulness on his end. before you answer he clears his throat, slight hurry in his voice.

gojo: -of course, we were younger back then, since then you’ve gotten wrinkles and is that a few grey hairs i see? you also slouch-

y/n: -okay okay you can stop!

the two of you laugh as you gently kick his chair, the fact you’re being recorded and being watched by a whole camera crew totally forgotten about.

y/n: okay, last question finally!

gojo: admit you had fun with me.

y/n: i see you everyday, today was nothing special.

gojo: you wouldn’t say we’ve bonded more over this interview?

y/n: you’re still as irritating as before this interview so no.

you grin and gojo scoffs before shuffling in his chair a little before a sly smile draws across his face.

gojo: go on then, last question.

y/n: would you sl-

gojo: go on, ask it, we’re waiting.

gojo is leaning on the palm of his hand, teasing smile playing on his lips and y/n stares at the card in disbelief.

y/n: you definitely wrote this! i would never ask this! there’s been a mistake with the cards or something

camera man: ah no, they’re all the questions that were on your form you sent in prior to the interview, these are the questions you apparently wanted to be asked. sorry, you’ll have to make do.

y/n: i’m not asking that.

gojo: come on now, don’t upset your supportive fans.

y/n: i know you wrote this, you’re so infuriating!

you glare at him but not with complete hostility, the situation slightly humorous to you despite your protests.

gojo: i mean well.

gojo shrugs as you sigh and stare at the card before speaking.

y/n: fine then have it your way. would you... would you sleep with me?

gojo: how brave! asking me on camera in the middle of an interview! how could i dare say no!

gojo is laughing along with the camera crew as you fight back a smile, refusing to admit his interference was entertaining.

y/n: at least take me out for dinner first.

gojo: now you’re asking me to take you out? you’re really bold today aren’t you!

y/n: oh shut up! i didn’t mean it like that! this is totally your fault it’s awkward now.

you’re grinning at this point not caring that your flirtatious banter with gojo is being recorded and is soon to be edited and posted for the world to see.

gojo: i mean, i’m free tomorrow if that’s good with you?

y/n: what? no, i- this wasn’t even a serious question shut up!

gojo: i’ll shut up if you let me take you out... and maybe then i’ll sleep with you after if that’s your request.

y/n: i can’t stand you!

gojo: but you do everyday, that must count for something right?

y/n: i hate you.

gojo: quite the contrary, i’m sure i’ll get you to admit that by tomorrow though.

y/n: ...i’ll be waiting on it then.

the two of you are smiling at each other, laughter dying down as you once again softly kick gojo’s chair. he pays no mind to it as a moment of fondness occurs, viewers clearly able to see the evident bond between the two of you.

y/n: okay well... that concludes our face-to-face, GQ interview, thanks for watching and putting up with him!

gojo: maybe we’ll come back to do an interview about our date after i take you out, who knows, maybe i’ll get to ask you to rate me in bed!

y/n: gross. you sound like a fifteen year old boy.

gojo: am i at least a hot one?

y/n: i refuse to catch a case.

gojo cackles as you laugh too, the camera fades out with the scene of the two of you softly smiling at each other as the interview concludes.