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slutforstabbings-archive · 1 year

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Clean Again

Chatper 9: SOMETHING FUCKED UP read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras! (see a mini-playlist for this chapter on tumblr here)

A fun night in ends up kinda heavy.

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - stalking, passing ref to hard drugs, marijuana consumption, arson, assault (non-sexual), passing mentions of sex/arousal

5,152 words

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Thank fuck it’s Thursday.

You and Corey have gone three days or more apart since you started seeing each other. It’s not the length of time so much as it being intentional. It was easier to spend any number of days apart when any second you might text him or call him to ask him to come over. Knowing that text wasn’t coming made Corey fidgety. Last week he was beside himself, riding his bike for hours, on routes that just happened to pass by all the places you regularly go. I was just in the neighborhood. His route always ended at the library, loitering until they closed, checking out old cowboy movies he watched when he was little. He hoped they could distract him, keep him company when he was awake for 37 hours straight.

This week, to keep himself from sitting outside your apartment just hoping to get a glimpse of you, he called the elderly couple to see if they needed any help. Monday evening after work he rode his bike to the edge of town, following the familiar path as the paved roads gave way to dirt, scattering dogs and chickens as he roared into the yard. In the amber light of late afternoon, he deposited seeds in rows in their vegetable patch, tomatoes and sweet corn and summer squash. Tuesday evening Phil led Corey across several acres, deep into the center of the property, where he’d had to abandon his riding mower after it gave up on him that morning. As a man of a certain age and economic station, Phil knows a thing or two about a thing or two, and he ran Corey through the list of of valves and fluids he already checked before leaving him in the field to figure it out. Corey found the problem but didn’t have the part to fix it, so Wednesday evening on the way out to the farm he stopped to pick it up. Part in hand, the repair was a cinch, and he spent the rest of the evening on the porch with old lady Joanna, smoking cigarettes and listening to stories about her life.

But he finally gets to see you today. He makes record time from the garage to his apartment, then to yours. He bangs on the door with one hand, holding gifts for you in the other, a fresh bouquet and 18 eggs from Phil and Joanna’s chickens.

“Eggs?” You ask when he hands them to you.

“Fresh eggs. Free range. Laid just in the last couple days. I uh.. I know the chickens that laid them.”

You giggle at the expression. “You know the chickens? Are they close personal friends of yours?”

“No,” he says, laughing too. “I just help out on the farm where they live sometimes.”

“Well, thank you. That's really cool. I can’t wait to eat these. Send my regards to the girls,” you joke, placing them in the fridge.

The task he’s assigned himself tonight is oiling all the hinges and tightening all the knobs on your cabinet doors. Something you could easily do yourself, but he’s come to the point where he's scraping for projects, and he's more than happy to take care of it for you. He gets started while you fill an old peanut butter container with water for your flowers. They spill lazily over the wide mouth of the jar as you place it in the center of your kitchen island, a posture you mimic as you lean against the edge and watch him work.

“You do have a vase,” Corey says when he gets to the cabinet under the sink. He sets down his screwdriver and pulls something out. A glittery object that caught his eye deep in the shadows.

“I do?” You ask, confused.

He holds up a glass vessel, 10 inches tall, with a big belly bottom that tapers into a narrow tube towards the top.

“Corey!” You snort. He can tell you think he’s joking, but he doesn’t understand why. He looks at you blankly, trying to get it, and watches your face change as the realization dawns on you. “Oh! You really don’t know?”

“It’s not a vase?” He asks, turning it around in his hands. “It is weird that it has a hole in it, I guess.” He puts the tip of his pinky in the opening in the vessel’s belly.

“It’s a bong, Corey. A water pipe. For smoking. It’s just missing a couple pieces.”

“Don’t you only smoke cigarettes sometimes at bars?” Corey asks, still not fully grasping the concept.

“I don’t smoke tobacco out of it,” you say slowly.

“Oh…” he breathes, eyes widening in recognition. Corey had some inkling that there were different kinds of pipes people use for smoking weed, but he’d never seen one before now. At the parties he snuck out to in high school everyone had just smoked joints.

He’s always been curious, but when Momma was still alive he had been too worried about how she would react if she found out, her bloodhound nose easily defeating paltry pieces of gum and spritzes of cologne. Since he’s been on the run it hasn’t seemed like a good idea to seek out drugs. He's thought about it often, especially on cold nights with a stiff neck, sleeping on the floor of an abandoned house and wishing he hadn’t survived. He thought about things far more destructive than marijuana. But he’d never bought drugs before and an interaction with an undercover cop seemed like way too big of a risk.

“Do you smoke a lot?” He asks

“Not so much lately.” You shrug. “I think I still have some though.”

“Could we…? Do you have the missing pieces?”

“Yeah, if you’re sure you want to,” you say, face shifting from surprised to amused. Corey nods. “Okay. That needs to be washed because it’s been under the sink for a while.”

He turns to the sink and runs the water while you go into your bedroom. He hears you opening drawers and clinking glass objects while he washes the bong, using a sponge on the outside and a bottle brush on the inside, unsure of how thorough he should be.

“Put like, two inches of cool water in the bottom and meet me in here,” you instruct, standing in the archway with your hands full.

In the living room you’re lighting candles. On the coffee table he sees an ashtray, a little canister full of weed, two glass objects he assumes are the missing pieces, and another container.

“I didn’t realize it was so involved,” he says.

“It’s what you make it. I want you to have a good first time,” you say.

You move to your sound system. You start to put a record on the turntable but change your mind, pulling something up on your phone instead. Gentle indie music fills the room. Corey sets the bong on the coffee table and sits down on the couch while you draw the curtains and turn on a lamp. He’s excited and a little nervous.

He likes drinking well enough. His only experience being out at a bar is the Halloween party at Velkovsky’s, which ended badly, but he’d had a good time before he bumped into Mrs. Allen. Other than that he’d had a beer here and there, getting buzzed extremely quickly thanks to his practically non-existent tolerance. And there have been a couple nights with you since he started sleeping over, the two of you sitting at your dining table with a bottle of sweet white wine, getting progressively worse at Scrabble. He likes the numb feeling, everything happening without really happening. Pot can’t be that different, right?

You pop the top off the mystery container and Corey sees it’s filled with metal teeth. He watches as you break apart a little ball from the canister, a “nug” you call it, and lay it over the teeth. Your fingers work delicately but deliberately. You put the lid back on and hand it to him.

“Twist,” you say. He does as he’s told. You put one of the glass pieces in the hole in the side of the pipe, then reach out to take the grinder back. As you open it he realizes it has multiple chambers that unscrew independently, a nice design thing he appreciates. You pinch a little pile of shreds out of the chamber, dropping them into the other glass piece, which looks like a tiny goblet with a handle.

“This is the bowl,” you tell him. “To hit the bong, you gotta start with the bowl in the downstem.” You drop the bowl into the hole in the side of the bong, then pick the whole thing up with your left hand. You explain the process of lighting the bowl, inhaling, and clearing the bong.

“That sounds easy enough,” Corey says.

“It’s deceptive. It’s not like cigarettes,” you say. Then you take a hit to demonstrate. “Breathe deep, with the bottom of your lungs.” Your voice sounds dark and warped around the smoke. Then you release a huge plume toward the ceiling.

You hold the bong out to Corey and he accepts it.

“I should probably light it for you, your first time,” you say, holding up the lighter.

Corey nods his head. He closes his eyes and tries to empty his lungs completely. Then he leans down to put his lips on the bong, looking up at you through his eyelashes as you flick the lighter. Everything goes well until he pulls the bowl to clear the pipe. He panics immediately, coughing and putting the bong on the table still filled with swirling smoke. He coughs so hard tears come to his eyes. You look at him with a combination of pity and mirth.

“What the fuck!?” He chokes, wiping his eyes.

“It’s deceptive!” You say, suppressing a laugh. “Are you okay?”

He looks at you with a dark expression, embarrassed and slightly betrayed.

“Poor baby,” you pout.

Poor Baby. His breath hitches. Even hearing it sarcastically, the pet name strikes him hard. Twice as hard as the other week when you called him sir. Since he’s been in the south the occasional old lady has called him some term of endearment in a grandmotherly way. It always flusters him, the way these women so casually dole out maternal affection, something his own mother wielded like a weapon. But no one has ever, ever called him baby like that. He’s grateful that the coughing fit gives him an excuse for being so red.

“There is a way that might be easier,” you coo. “You can get it second hand.”

Corey clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know what you mean, but you seem to want him to guess. You sit there patiently.

“Show me,” he finally says.

Grabbing the pipe from the coffee table, you take a much bigger hit than before. He’s astounded at the apparent capacity of your lungs. You hold it in as you lean closer to him. When the tips of your noses almost touch you say one word in your growly smoke-filtered voice.

“Inhale.”

Then you blow the smoke into his face in a long, even stream.

Corey inhales and fills his lungs, breathing to the bottom like you told him to. He closes his eyes and hears you taking another massive hit as he exhales. You lean back into him, so close that your lips brush his on the second syllable.

“Inhale.”

Corey parts his lips and you breathe into his mouth. You keep your face close to his as he exhales. Then you kiss him, once, twice before pulling away.

“How do you feel?”

“Uh…” He feels very flustered but he doesn’t think it has much to do with the weed. “Normal?”

“Give it a couple minutes,” you say, nodding. Then, sort of suddenly, “There’s so much you haven’t done, isn’t there?”

Ostensibly it’s a question, but you know Corey well enough to know it’s a statement of fact. Of course there’s a lot he has done, things that most people never will. Most people will never look evil in the eye. Most people will never commit a murder, on accident or on purpose, much less 10 of them. Most people will never meet a beautiful girl while they live in hiding, waiting every day for the other shoe to drop. But none of it’s the kind of thing you can put on your resume. He's painfully aware of how sheltered he was for most of his life.

“You’re a strange man, Corey Carpenter,” you say. The sound of his fake name from your lips stings, but your tone soothes him. The way you say you’re strange, it might as well mean I love you.

Corey swallows hard. His mouth is dry and his tongue feels huge. Why is his mouth so dry? His lips stick together. “Can I have something to drink?” He asks hoarsely.

“Cotton mouth huh?” You say, patting his knee. “It’s working.”

You go into the kitchen and Corey hears you making two glasses of water. It seems like you’re gone forever, like each second lasts a year, like the world is in slo-mo. His heart rages against his ribcage. His head feels like a helium balloon, floating up and bumping against the tall historic ceilings, so far away even the string is out of reach. He thinks about calling your name, and feels like it takes several business days for his mouth to actually follow through.

You pad in from the kitchen with the waters. You’ve been gone for 90 seconds. He calls your name just as you come into view, and he feels like he’s done a magic trick.

“How do you feel?” You ask again, handing him his glass.

“Weird,” he says.

“Good weird, or bad weird?”

“I can’t tell.” He looks at you for guidance. “I think I can feel my skin more than usual.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim. “You’re stoned!”

You sit down behind him on the couch. He tries to turn to face you, but you grab him by the shoulders and turn him back around. You gently scratch his back with both hands.

“How does that feel?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, he’s too absorbed in the sensations. He writhes around, trying to get whatever park of his back is currently under your nails closer to you. When you move one hand up his neck to his scalp, he leans so far into your touch that he falls backwards against you. You bring your face down to his, keeping your hand in his hair. You look into his half lidded eyes.

“This is cool,” he says, and giggles. His nerves are electrified, your nails on his scalp sending tingles radiating through his whole body. He looks down to check because he could swear he’s hovering six inches above the couch. He feels so immaterial that he’s surprised he doesn’t phase right through you. “I’m a ghost,” he whispers.

You cackle. “You’re a ghost, Corey?”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing too. He tries to fight off a full blown laughing fit. What’s even so funny? He’s not sure. His thoughts feel like they have to swim to get to him. If he doesn’t focus hard enough, they drift away. He sits up and turns to face you.

“What do you feel like you want to do? Is the music okay? Do you need anything?” You ask.

He considers. He had forgotten all about the music until you mentioned it, but now he’s falling into it, absorbed in waves by the guitar riffs. He picks up his glass and only means to take a sip, but finds himself chugging. He looks around the apartment, glowing warm from the lamp and the candles, and he looks at your face, soft and dreamlike in the light. He can feel himself grinning stupidly, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face. Your questions swim hard to get to him.

“The music… feels nice. Like I’m inside it,” he says.

“I love that feeling! But if you really wanna feel inside it, you need something fuzzier than this,” you say, scrolling through your playlists.

“Fuzzy?” He asks. You put a finger up. Hold on a second.

A new song starts playing. It is instantly cacophonous. It sounds like it was made by bees. It is fuzzy, that’s the perfect word for it. It feels like it’s massaging his brain. Even the singer’s voice is raspy and more like an instrument. He can’t understand the lyrics at all, but the vocals evoke a strong feeling anyway. The sound wraps around him like a warm blanket.

You grab the remote and turn the music up a little bit, swaying along serenely. Corey feels hypnotized watching you, your movements like a pendulum swinging in front of his eyes. You are so gorgeous, and you look so happy. He impulsively reaches out to touch your face. You nuzzle into his hand, and he feels like his heart stops beating.

He wishes the moment could last forever, but a new song comes on and it’s much faster than the last one. You spring off the couch and throw yourself around the living room, dancing with abandon.

Corey hasn’t danced in over a year, not since the Halloween party. He has not so much as tapped his foot, even with all the new music he’s enjoyed at your suggestion. Every time he wants to do something with you he did with Allyson he feels hesitant. He’s still avoided giving you a ride on his bike, and he hasn’t met anyone else in your life, although he suspects he can’t hold off on meeting Veronica much longer. But he feels so warm and tingly right now, and you’re having so much fun. He jumps up and joins you.

The two of you circle each other like sharks. You lunge forward and grab his hands, pulling him close to you, then pushing him away. He lets you swing him all around the living room. You spin under his arm and then into it so your back is pressed against him with his arm around your waist. You and Corey bounce and sway as a unit, sensing and anticipating each other’s movements. He feels you give into your impulse to grind on him and it makes his knees weak. The way you wiggle your hips back against him is torturous. A pained little noise escapes despite his efforts to stay quiet as he wills himself not to get hard. It’s a losing battle. Oh my god. He’s not sure if he thinks it or says it, but you press against him one more time, harder and slower, before spinning back out of his arm.

He’s not gonna let you get away that easily, using his hold on your hand to pull you back to him, and wrapping his other arm around your waist. Your giggle comes out like a squeal. You look up at him with wide, starry eyes. Another new song begins. He’s not sure why, but Corey feels like it’s the kind of song that would play at prom. He didn’t go to his prom, he didn’t go to any school dances. Momma never would’ve allowed it, so he just didn’t ask. Slow dancing is pretty intuitive though. He keeps you clasped against him tightly as the two of you rotate slowly in the candle light.

You sigh contentedly into his shoulder and press your hips against him. Every sensation feels amplified, and the softness of your belly against him through his jeans is insane. He puts his face in your hair and grinds against you, reveling in your smell as his breathing gets heavier. Nothing exists except you and the music. He wants to be inside you. With his cock, yes, as deep as he can get it, but also with his soul. He doesn’t have much, but he would give you everything. He wants to say I love you despite knowing it’s too soon. It would be okay if you didn’t say it back, if you just needed time. But he wouldn’t be able to take it if it scared you away, so he keeps quiet.

“Corey,” you say, ending his trance. “Tell me something fucked up about you.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, suddenly nervous.

“I don’t know. Something that follows you from your childhood, or… Something you think about a lot even though you know you shouldn’t. Something you hesitate to tell people, or that you’ve never told anyone.” You pull away slightly and meet his eyes, searching.

“Oh, I…” he starts then trails off. He looks away. What is he supposed to say to that? There’s no shortage of fucked up things about him, no end to the things he hesitates to tell people.

“You’re safe with me, Corey,” you coax him.

He knows you think you mean it, that you would accept him for a petty criminal record, a weird kink, an ugly divorce. Even if he told you his whole life story, he believes that you would hold his hand, right up until… Well, he’s not sure where the boundary is. Jeremy? The homeless man? Luring Doug to Michael, the first time he ended a life completely intentionally?

Not knowing the boundary isn’t as scary as the questions. He might say something well within the safe zone, but anything he says at all could lead you to ask questions. Questions the internet would happily supply the answers to even if Corey didn't. Questions with answers that would bring you well outside your limits, wherever they are. Finding out just who exactly has been sleeping in your bed would certainly mean the end of the relationship, and probably the end of Corey’s life too.

He looks back to you and then, up through the fog, he thinks of something he can tell you. A story that stands on its own, a story that you can’t google.

“When I was twelve,” he starts, “I found a lighter in the seat on the school bus.” The events play like a movie in his head, and he’s transported back to an autumn when he had just a tiny bit of freedom. Momma had burned all the bridges at her old job and her new one wouldn’t give her her preferred schedule yet. She hated when Corey would be home alone for any amount of time after school. But being a single mom trying to keep food on the table meant that for a few months she didn’t have the option of getting off in time to be home when he got there, temporarily granting him the luxury of being a latchkey kid.

“I put it in my backpack and kept it on me all day at school. I just kept thinking about it, like I could feel it in there, waiting. When I got home I knew I had a couple of hours alone. I spent it burning stuff. Pieces of cardboard from the garbage or whatever. I thought it was so cool how the fire could just… completely erase things. I wanted to watch something bigger disappear.

“My neighbors across the street had a car up on blocks. It didn’t have an engine. It had been sitting there for as long as I could remember. One of the windows was rolled down, or maybe just missing, so it was full of trash and leaves. I waited til nobody was looking and I lit a piece of cardboard and dropped it in. Then I ran home and watched it from my bedroom window.

“It was awesome. All the shit inside caught so fast, then the seats, then the frame. You wouldn’t think metal would turn to ash and float away, but it does. Cars are paper thin. I cut through them with a torch at work all the time.

“The fire got really fucking big. A lot bigger than I expected. I thought when the car burnt out, the fire would disappear, like it did with a cereal box. But the grass was super dry. It spread across the yard and caught my neighbor’s garage. I ... I didn’t call 911 because I was scared they would know it was me. Eventually someone else called, but the garage was gone by the time the fire department came.”

Corey basks in the rapt look in your eyes as he tells his story, still holding you close and swaying slightly. It feels so good to just be honest with you about something. Not to have to tiptoe around his secret. He can’t believe the way you eat it up.

“Then what?” You ask, awed.

“I don’t know. They never found out it was me.”

“Holy shit. You could’ve burned down the whole neighborhood, you little arsonist!” You poke him in the chest and laugh. "I should've known you were a firebug, Mr. Lights His Cigs with Matches."

“Guilty,” Corey says. Guiltier than you know. “What about you? Are you gonna tell me something fucked up about you?”

You pull out of his arms slightly, not to get away, but to bring him with you to the couch. He sits down with you, one arm still around your waist. You hit the bong. As you exhale you gesture to offer him more, but he’s still plenty stoned and he wants to focus on whatever you’re about to say.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” you say.

Corey is confused until he realizes you’re presenting your arm to him. The Carrie tattoo. He runs his fingers over it. With his sense heightened, he feels like he can read it like braille. He thinks back to the night the two of you watched Carrie. How you had unknowingly validated him. How he hoped you could find a way to feel your feelings about Carrie, about him.

“There was this guy. He used to be hot shit in the music scene here. I think at one point he was in… four different bands? I knew we had all these mutual friends, and I saw him around all the time. I mean, he was almost impossible to avoid. And he was cute, and he was talented. I thought that maybe he and I could really be something. But we just didn’t click like I hoped we would. Not like I click with you.

“I kept going on dates with him, even though I wasn’t feeling it. I wanted to feel it, or … I don’t know. It makes less sense the longer ago it happened. I guess he never picked up on the fact that I was pulling away. He was gone on tour a lot and I kinda hoped he would just get distracted and forget about me. But he didn’t. Even after I spelled it out for him, he still acted like we were together. I had to start avoiding shows his bands played, certain bars I knew he liked. I would still see him everywhere though. He would put his arm around me, try to make plans with me, whatever. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer, for months. It was so bad Veronica would physically get in between us so he would leave me alone.”

Corey clenches his jaw. He remembers the way Doug disrespected Allyson in front of him. Doug had treated Corey like shit too, threatening him when he arrived on the scene after the accident with Jeremy, making Corey’s handcuffs too tight. He deserved what he got just for that. But the thing Corey really couldn’t take was the way Doug pretended to be interested in Allyson, to care for her, while making her visibly uncomfortable. The way Doug acted like he owned her, like she owed him something, like she was too stupid to make her own choices. That was why Doug had to die. And as you talk, Corey silently promises that if he ever sees the guy from this story, he’ll have to die too.

“So on Halloween we did a bar crawl, everybody from work. And we all dressed up like Stephen King characters. I was Carrie and Veronica was Wendy from The Shining. Have you ever seen it?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, Veronica was a character that carries around a baseball bat for part of the film. And she went to the bathroom and she had me hold her bat.” You pause, making a sour face.

“Oh my god… I just realized. He must have seen that I was with people and waited. I thought the timing was a coincidence, but maybe it wasn’t. He was shit-faced, but I guess he wasn’t too far gone to realize he could only get near me when she and Rose left. That fucking asshole!

“Anyway, Veronica went to the bathroom and he came up behind me and put his hand on my stomach and tried to dance with me. And I just got so fucking angry… I broke his nose and three fingers.”

“You beat him with the bat?” Corey asks, trying not to sound too excited. You look at him with narrowed eyes, like you’re trying to figure something out. He looks down, not wanting to give himself away.

“I didn’t beat him, exactly. When he put his hand on me I just kinda…” You grab the three middle fingers on one of Corey’s hands. He looks back up, meeting your eyes, and holds his breath. You bend his fingers sideways, gently but firmly. First it’s a nice stretch, then it hurts. He doesn’t react. He trusts you not to actually break his fingers, but he almost feels like he would let you if you wanted to. You hold his fingers at that unnatural angle for a long moment. Then you let go.

“Like that. But harder, and faster. I didn’t think they would break so easy or that it would fuck up his tendons and stuff, but I was tipsy and full of adrenaline and I just… Did it. And then I hit him in the face with the bat, once. Once was enough.

“I was dressed like Carrie, and it felt kind of supernatural the way my instincts just took over so I could defend myself. I didn’t know I had that in me. I got the tattoo so I would never forget.”

Corey is completely smitten. He takes your hands, pressing his palms into yours, knowing you’ve both felt the vibration of someone else’s bones breaking. His impression of you as a huntress was more correct than he could’ve ever hoped. You’re genuinely dangerous.

His desire to say I love you floods back to him, but he bites his tongue. He has to figure out the perfect way to tell you.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween ends #mine #fan fic

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prfctethereal · 3 years

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no body, no crime. | marauders

pairing: platonic!james potter x reader, platonic!sirius black x reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

wordcount: 3,608

warnings: this whole thing is about murder, blood, swearing, alcohol use

a/n: so i accidentally listen to no body, no crime all afternoon and felt inspired to write this. it was supposed to be shorter but oh well. let me know if i should write a part two - kennedy

***

I need your help. Come quick.

I scrawled the message onto three different spare pieces of parchment and hurried into the kitchen, opening the nearest window. The rush of fresh air could’ve been clarity for me but what was done was done. There was no changing the past, but changing the future was still on my plate.

Waving my arm in the night sky, I signalled my owl, Stefan, calling him over to the window. He hooted excitedly, eager to be put to use in the cold winter season. As he landed on my arm, a dusting of snow ruffled from his feather, onto my blood splattered torso, bouncing onto the kitchen counter. Looking down at my appearance, the severity of the situation settled in. There was a dead body in my living room and I had no idea what to do.

“Stefan, I need you to send these letters to the marauders. Go to James and Lily’s house first; it’s the closest, but whatever you do, don’t let Lily see it. Then, go to Remus’ house. Sirius is staying with him as well. They can both see the letter. Lastly, go to Peter’s house and make sure he comes. Keep pecking him on his hand if he chickens out. Can you do that for me?”

Stefan hooted loudly, which I instantly shushed, taking note of the time of day. I didn’t want to wake any of the neighbours. Once Stefan understood the instructions, I let him fly away. A comfortable silence was left in my house as I paced through the kitchen, not even thinking about what to do next.

“I need a drink.” I hummed softly for myself, swinging open the cupboard and taking out a bottle of red wine. After pouring a glass, I waited, sipping to calm my nerves.

It wasn’t long before I heard the distinguished snap of someone apparating, followed by a small squeal. James had arrived first, right into the crime scene. He called out my name, which I responded to, and he trudged into the kitchen, unable to make a coherent sentence.

What he saw was one of his best friends sitting on the ground, blood staining their shirt, a glass of wine firm in their grips, eyes glassy and dazed over.

“Are you going to explain this or…?” James trailed off, realising that he wasn’t going to get an answer quite yet.

“Wait until the others get here.” I responded monotonously, finishing the glass of wine with a single gulp. Mindlessly, I reached upwards to the kitchen counter, patting around for the bottle, before it was snatched away by none other than James Potter himself.

“Darling, if we’re going to be covering up a murder tonight, I think it would be best for you to be as sober as possible.” He cheeked, a cocky smirk on his face. It was soon wiped away by the sound of someone else crashing into the living room, followed by a high pitch yelp; a similar reaction to James’.

“[Y/N]? Did you kill someone?” It was the distinct voice of Peter Pettigrew who followed the quiet murmurings of James and I into the kitchen. When he walked through the door, he seemed to be nursing his right hand, which looked like it had been pecked over and over by an owl, most likely Stefan.

“Take a guess.” I muttered, unusually grumping as I desperately wanted to refill my glass of wine and drown out the sorrows and voices in my head. Oh no, I didn’t feel guilty for killing the man in the living room. I felt guilty for not even having any sort of conscience.

Peter joined us, sitting down on the other side of me. His eyes lit up as he noticed the bottle of wine in James’ hand, muttering a quick “thank you” before taking a swig of the burning liquid.

“The other two should be here by now.” I deadpanned. James and Peter hummed in agreement but it wasn’t long before the rest of them arrived. A knock at the front door signified that Remus and Sirius had arrived, as Remus always felt it was much more polite to apparate outside of someone’s home, instead of directly inside it.

Begrudgingly, I went to stand up, before toppling over into Peter’s lap. I hadn’t realised that the alcohol had already affected me so much, my fist clenching to my temples as I moaned in frustration. It was common knowledge that I was a lightweight. I should’ve thought of that before I let my gluttony become me.

“How about I get the door?” James suggested, standing up instead. “Besides, what if it’s not the other two? What if it’s the police? Can’t have someone covered in blood answer the door.”

As James walked off to the front door, I stayed curled up in Peter’s lap, his hand slowly stroking my shaking arm in an attempt to sooth me. New flash: it wasn’t working.

Two more screeches emerged from the living room which meant that Remus and Sirius had finally showed up. Still shaking, I finally rose from my seating position, with the help of Peter, and made my way into the living room.

It was the first time I had seen the mess I had made with a clear head, or a head that wasn’t plagued with wrath and hatred. Blood was all up the walls, coating too many surfaces to count. The body was lying face down on the carpet, fresh blood still leaking out of his corpse. A putrid smell filled the room, coming from the gas build up in the man’s body. Gagging at the sight, I held my ground, fighting the need to run away and throw up in my bathroom.

“Okay, Remus and Sirius are here now. Can you please tell us what happened?” James begged, his eyes filled with fear. I couldn’t blame him. Finding out one of his best friends had murdered someone must have been horrifying, but it was no time to ponder about the drastic change in our relationship. I needed to explain.

“Do you remember Este, the hufflepuff in our year? She was in our herbology class year seven. She was also in our potions class up until year six.” I started, looking at my friend’s around me, who were all listening intently. “Well, we’ve been friends since year one I guess. We were friends for many years. Even after we left Hogwarts, I still caught up with her. Every Tuesday night, we’d have dinner together and chat, you know, gossip about what’s going on. Anyway, one night, she was talking about her husband-”

“Husband?” Sirius interjected, completely confused. “Este never dated anyone during the entirety of Hogwarts. We’ve only been out for less than a year. How did she find someone to date and marry in that timeframe?”

“Well, they met the day after graduation, at a ministry party. Este was starting in the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes department and met Jason Bulstrode. They must’ve hit it off because a month later they were married. I went to their wedding in August; it was quite pleasant.”

“Okay, continue with the story.” Remus hurried me along, getting quite fidgety with the body behind him. He was anxiously looking behind him, as if the body was going to start moving.

“Oh right, anyway, one night, she was talking about Jason. She was getting nervous because she thought he was cheating on her. She kept talking about how Jason had been spending money on jewellery that wasn’t hers and how he has been coming home from work later and later, smelling like cheap perfume and merlot. I convinced her to confront him about it. A week later, we were supposed to meet for our weekly dinner but she never showed up. I went down to this bar that Jason always went to to see if he knew anything. He was drunk, going on about how she went missing. I didn’t believe it for one second.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. Peter had started drinking out of the wine bottle once more. Remus was fiddling nervously with his digits, as Sirius tried to calm him down, while listening in to every word I was saying.

“Another week goes by and a woman moves into Este and Jason’s house. You’ll never guess who. It was Lucinda Greengrass. I thought it was strange to see Jason move on so quickly because Este could’ve still shown up, but then it hit me. Este was never going to show up. Jason had murdered her. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I confronted him once again at the bar. He seemed a lot more sober though this time. When I brought up the fact that he killed his wife, he lunged at me. I thought I could apparate away to protect myself but he had already grabbed onto me. He was trying to kill me first, so technically it was self defence. I grabbed a framed picture from my mantle and smashed it on the ground. I used one of the broken pieces of glass and used it to protect myself. Then, I wrote a letter to you four and got you to come over. I think we’ve caught up.”

I was out of breath by the time I had finished talking, expecting to be bombarded with hundreds of questions. Except, they all seemed quite silent, their own plans formulating over in their heads. I stayed quiet, letting them think, biting my own nails at what was going on. Remus was the one who spoke up first.

“Did anyone see you leave the bar with Jason?” Remus asked, hurrying out of the kitchen into the living room. He seemed to be looking for something, but what?

“No.” I put simply, watching as Sirius’ face lit up, understanding what Remus was getting at. James and Peter made eye contact and with that, it seemed like everyone was on the same page except me.

“Then his last known location was the bar. He could’ve gone missing at the bar.” James muttered, following Remus. Except, James headed for the laundry, hurriedly looking for cleaning supplies.

“Missing?” I called, frantically trying to follow them, but they all seemed to be in a mind of their own, understanding what had to be done. James emerged from the laundry with a mop and a bucket of bleach. Peter came from the direction of the kitchen holding a massive black garbage back, gloves decorating his hands.

“No one knows you killed him, [Y/N], and we intend on keeping it that way. He’ll stay a missing man.” Peter finished off the thought, carefully trodding over to Jason’s bloody corpse on the ground. “Besides, Este is also classified as missing. It could be played off that they ran off together or something.”

I was rooted to the spot as I watched what was going on around me. Peter had put Jason’s body in a weird contortion to fit in the garbage bag and tied a knot. Quickly, he grabbed another to double line the bag, making sure there were no leakages. Once it was secure, Peter placed the bag outside to air out, making sure the smell wouldn’t linger much longer in the house.

Sirius was quick to clean the linen. He picked up the rug from the ground and hurried it off into the laundry so it could clean itself the muggle way. The next task was trying to remember the cleaning spells from year three and being able to execute them at such a high quality that it can get rid of even the strongest of stains, like blood.

“Can you help me with this, love?” Sirius cooed, motioning for me to help him with the stains on the couches. Muttering the incantation, we watched the stain fade ever so slightly. Cursing under his breath, Sirius tried again, whispering the spell once more. The blood splotch faded once more but only slightly. “At this rate, we’ll be here for hours.”

At this moment, Remus came back into the room, holding up what he was looking for before. My old boat keys. Being a half blood with a muggle father meant that he had taught me a few things about the muggle world. He had also taught me how to drive a boat, helping me get my boating license at only fifteen years old. It was perplexing though; why would Remus care about my boat? It wasn’t going to help us now.

“Where do you dock your boat?” Remus said calmly, spinning the keys around in his fingers effortlessly. By now, he had caught the attention of the rest of the marauders. Sirius poked his head out from behind the couch, James looked up from where he was mopping the floors, and Peter walked back into the living room from checking on the bag in the backyard.

“Uh, all the way back in my hometown, miles away from here. Old Muster Lake.” I stuttered out. With that, Remus opened up more of my drawers, searching for a map. When he had found it, he motioned for me to follow him into the dining room where he splayed the map out on the table.

“Show me.” Remus stated firmly, brushing his fingers over the dirty map. Hesitantly, I pointed my fingers about a hundred miles north of here. Remus bit his lip, thinking about what to do next. His breathing was shallow and I could feel his nervousness from here. All I hoped was that his plan would work out.

“Can you still drive the boat?” Remus said after a while, looking me in the eyes. I nodded slowly and Remus looked content, grabbing the map from the table and motioned for Peter to come to him. “We’re going to the lake to dump the body. You’re coming.”

“What? No.” Peter spluttered, his heart racing quickening. “I get terrible motion sickness. Oi! James!” Peter called James over who was focused on his task at hand, scrubbing the floor with the mop. “I’ll take over your job and you can go to the lake with these two.”

“Alright.” James huffed, passing the mop over to Peter. When they were ready, Remus, James and I walked outside into the night, walking over to the garbage bag where Jason’s body was already rotting. Even in the darkness of the night, I could tell that the bag hadn’t leaked, which was a good sign. With a nod of Remus and James’ head, I knew they were ready, so I held onto the bag while they held onto my arms and I apparated away into the night.

As we arrived at Old Muster Lake, a wave of post apparition nausea washed over me, nearly toppling me over if it hadn’t been for James holding me up. When I got myself sorted, I looked out onto the lake where I hadn’t been for years.

The whole lake looked deserted at this time of year. A faint mist was rising off of the lake, reflecting in the moonlight of the crescent moon. Big trees breathed in the like breeze, swaying softly in the wind. A hooting owl and the rustle of tree branches were the only noises that could be heard between the three of them.

Remus was the first to break the silence, stepping forward, his feet crunching onto the leafy ground. The dead leaves cracked underneath his shoes, giving away his position. He paused, listening out for anyone, sniffing the air slightly, before continuing to walk up to the docks. Thinking it was safe, James and I followed after him until we reached the end of the dock. The planks of the dock were old and unkempt, seeming like they might break underneath our feet. Carefully, we walked across the together, before the dock finished beneath us. I could see my boat a bit away from the dock, but it was too far away. There was no way of reaching the boat, until I had an idea.

“Remus, give me my key.”

“What?”

“I can swim over to the boat and bring it around. Give me my keys.” I repeated, holding my hand out to him. Obliging, he placed the keys on my palm and watched as I looped my digits around the key ring tight so it wouldn’t escape me.

I hadn’t swam in years. As I dived off the dock and into the freezing water, I remembered the rush of it. Resurfacing, I gasped for air, shivering in the winter water. My clothes hung uncomfortably by my side, sticking to my cold figure. My teeth chattered unconsciously, reminding me to get a move on before I froze in the temperature. We didn’t want two dead bodies in the lake now, did we?

Free styling in the lake, I stroked my arms by my side, swimming towards my boat in the ocean. It was about a seventy meter swim which was an okay length, but the warmth of the water made it feel like an eternity. When I finally reached the boat, I climbed up the ladder at the back and clambered into the boat. A chilly gush of wind hit my skin, sending goosebumps up my spine. I was too cold but I persisted, fumbling with the key in my hand and struggling to put it in the key hole. When it finally went in, I turned the engine on, letting a roar come out of the exhaust. Luckily, there was still half a tank of fuel in the tank from the summers ago when my family had come to the lake. Back then, it brought such happy memories. Now, not at all.

I brought the boat around to the dock, letting James and Remus pile in, pulling the heavy bag over the side of the ship. When we were ready, I sped off into the middle of the lake, where it was deepest, the perfect spot to dump a body.

“The next open season will be summer. By the time it comes, the body should’ve decomposed a lot more.” I spluttered out, my cold body shivering, making the words come out of my mouth in an unsteady stream.

“Here. Take this. You look freezing.” Remus said quietly, placing his jacket over my shoulders, which I gratefully accepted. Immediately, I started feeling much warmer, continuing on with our mission.

Once we reached the middle of the lake, there weren’t a lot of words said between the three of us. Instantly, James started untying the knot on the garbage bag, opening it up to the world. It reeked worse than before but there was nothing we could do about it now. With all three of our strengths combined, we managed to hold onto the bag and tip the corpse into the lake with a splash. Wordlessly, we headed back to the dock, as I dropped the two boys back off.

Again, I turned the engine off, tying the boat back up at the buoy. Holding onto the keys, I dived back into the chilling lake, though the cold didn’t affect as much as last time. Swimming back to the dock, I relished in everything we had done, remembering the body that was now decomposing in the lake. I felt dirty as I swam through the contaminated water.

Reaching the dock, I pulled myself out via the ladder and laid down on the planks, catching my breath. That’s when everything caught up to me. Tears were ebbing in the corners of my eyes, spilling onto my reddening cheeks. My lip quivered as quiet sobs spilled past my lips. Closing my eyes, I let the darkness consume me for a few moments, until I felt two strong arms hoisting me back up into a standing position. Stroking my arms, they both tried to soothe me from my breakdown. Minutes ticked by as I let my tears run down my cheeks. I was openly sobbing now. All I needed was a sleep.

“You wanna go now?” James muttered to which I nodded. Holding onto the deflated bag, James apparated us away, back into my unrecognisable house.

Peter and Sirius had done a fantastic job. There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere in the living room; everything looked spotless. The rug that was drenched with blood had gone through the washing machine and was now back in its usual spot. The couches looked brand new, meaning that Sirius must have figured out how to do the spell properly. An aroma of fresh flowers flooded the room, overpowering the smell of rotting flesh. It was perfect.

“How did it go?” Sirius asked, appearing from the kitchen with Peter.

“It’s been taken care of.” I mustered up the courage to say. “Now, if anyone asks, and I doubt they will, but just in case, we had a dinner party tonight.”

The four of them nodded in agreement, heading for the doorway to leave, but I stopped them.

“And you stayed the night. Everyone had had a little too much to drink. That means no one would have slipped off to kill anyone, okay?”

With that, they all followed me up the staircase into the hallway of spare rooms for them to sleep in. I thought I was alone as I stayed out in the hallway, turning the lights out. I cried again.

I cried for a while.

Until I felt a reassuring hand on my back, calming me down. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, love. No body, no crime, right?”

138 notes · View notes

supernatural-jackles · 4 years

Text

Seeing You Again

Title: Seeing You Again

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 10,871

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Virginity Loss, Implications of Depression, Smut, Love Lost, Divorce, Tears. Jensen is an innocent, love struck sweetheart.

Summary: Fifteen years had passed since you had seen the love of your life, Jensen Ackles. Your childhood sweetheart, the man of your dreams. The two of you separated against your wishes. Until he walks into your bakery one day without knowing you owned it. You never expected old feelings to resurface, let alone something more

Square Filled: Childhood Sweethearts ( @spnfluffbingo) First Time ( @spngenrebingo)

A/N: Happy Tuesday!! My posting schedule is remaining the same from now until the middle of August. You get a new update every Tuesday and Sunday!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy reading!

You tied your apron around your waist, making sure it was secure before bunching up your hair in a quick messy bun. It was a busy Saturday afternoon and you had multiple things on the go already.

You were a baker; at least that was one of your job titles anyways. Business owner, workaholic, you name it. You lived a busy life. You worked six days a week at the bakery you owned in Dallas Texas, and had for the last three years. A successful little place you called Sweethearts. A name you had picked out for longer than you’d ever admit to anyone.

Every day was something new. A new order, or arrangement of orders. New faces, and familiar faces. The same smiles and thank you’s you got with every purchase. It was something you loved doing. You loved to bake and you loved to see the look on people’s faces when they picked up one of your creations for someone they loved.

This was your dream, believe it or not. You had always wanted to own your own business and be your own boss. You were never one for following the rules, no matter who the leader was. You never wanted to be some corporate lawyer, or a nine to five, hating every second of life kind of person. You wanted every day to be an adventure. You wanted to be independent.

You rolled out the fondant on your bakers table, getting ready to throw it over your double chocolate cookie cake for a special order. A lady wanted something special for her son’s tenth birthday so you were making a cookie monster cake in hopes he’d like it. In the distance, the timer for your oven went off, indicating that your in house pie was done.

Saturday’s were typically busy days. Today was no different. Thankfully you had most of your orders done for the morning. It was only this cake that needed finished before you could take a break and make some simple cookies.

“Hey Y/N, someone wants to see you,” your assistant called back. You wiped your hands on your apron as you walked out into the front of your shop. An older lady was standing there, a wide smile playing on her lips.

“Hi there,” you greeted her.

“Are you the owner of this place?” she asked.

“Why yes I am,” you nodded. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I just wanted to give compliments to you. You run a very nice business. The treats are out of this world. In all my time, I’ve never had a chocolate chip cookie taste so good,” she beaned.

“Thank you! That means a lot to me,” you nodded with a smile.

“If you’re not already taken, my grandson would love a woman like you,” she teased, adjusting her jacket around her arms.

“I’m married to my work,” you told her. “Someone has to make all the orders.”

“Well, you let me know,” she winked. “Take care now.”

You waved the older lady off, watching her walk out the front door of your shop. Each seat was taken. You watched as people sipped away at their coffees and every one of them had some sort of baked good from your display. You were finally doing something right.

“You know, you’re going to have to settle down someday,” your assistant, Victoria smiled at you.

“I know,” you sighed. “Someday.”

You walked into the back, getting back into finishing your cake. It needed to be done in less than an hour for the woman picking it up. You had to get your blue buttercream ready for the top of the cake, and the few cookies you had set aside to finish the top. It was going to be a breeze. You couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she saw the cake. The customer's reaction was always one of your favourite things. You loved seeing their smile.

You took a deep breath, mixing up the buttercream and food colouring to get the correct consistency. Your mind wandered back to the older lady for a moment. Sure you were thirty one, but you had tons of time to settle down and find someone to spend the rest of your life with. Right now, you were a business woman. You had that and it was one hundred percent what your focus was on. You needed to continue to be successful. Relationships were overrated anyways.

You poured the buttercream into the piping bag and began your design. You were excited to see how this was going to turn out. If it was good, it was definitely going on your instagram page.

You could feel the sweat forming at your brow as you continued the last strokes on the cake. It looked amazing if you were to say so yourself. It turned out much better than you were expecting it to, times a million. This was definitely going to make that ten year old’s birthday.

“Customer is here for the cake order,” Victoria called back to you.

“Coming right out.”

You boxed up the cake in a nice blue one you had custom made for purposes like this. It already said happy birthday on the side, along with some balloons. It was all about making the customer happy. You carefully lifted it off the counter and headed out to the front of the store with it in hand.

“Alright, cookie monster cake,” you smiled, placing it down on the counter by the register, opening it up. “Cookie dough cake inside, along with homemade chocolate chip cookies on top and a blue buttercream topping,” you smiled proudly, looking down at your cake.

“Gotta say Y/N, I always knew you’d be successful,” a deep voice said. You hadn’t even looked up at the customer yet. That voice was so familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on who it was. Until you finally glanced up. Those piercing green eyes boring into yours.

“J-Jensen?” you breathed out.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he smiled at you.

“W-what are you doing here?” you cocked your head to the side.

“My sister in law sent me to pick up the cake for my nephews tenth birthday,” he said. “I had no idea this was your place. Although, I have to say, it’s very you if I remember correctly.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“Uh, twenty two dollars,” you breathed out.

“Do you accept tips?” he questioned as he reached for his wallet in his back pocket.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Perfect. All I have is a fifty. Keep the change, sweetheart,” he winked. “You certainly deserve it. This cake looks perfect.”

“Thanks Jensen,” you swallowed hard, not daring to take your eyes off of him. That fucking nickname. The whole reason why this place was called Sweethearts. The man you had fallen in love with all those years ago. “Take care.”

You watched as he walked out the door with the box in his hands. You couldn’t believe it. Out of all the people you expected to walk in, he was never one of them. The man you had grown up with. The first and only man you had every loved with your whole heart. The one that slipped away.

“Who was that?” Melaine, your part time girl who helped keep your shop in working order.

“Just some guy I used to know a long time ago,” you smiled at her.

“Did you guys used to be together?” she inquired as she poured a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, for a while,” you breathed out.

“Well, with the way he was looking at you, I’d say there is definitely some feelings still there,” she chuckled. “I wish my boyfriend looked at me the way Jensen just looked at you.”

“Who was looking at who?” Victoria popped her head out and asked.

“A very hot customer was looking at Y/N. Apparently they have history,” Melanie wiggled her eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you shook your head, trying to repress your smile.

“Awwww,” Victoria cooed.

“He had heart eyes for her. Major heart eyes,” she beamed.

“You guys, he’s an old friend. Nothing more. Now we’re dropping it,” you stated before walking back into the kitchen to begin your clean up.

Your heart was still racing in your chest. It had been a really long time since you had seen Jensen in person. Sure, you followed all of his social media and kept up with what he was doing. He was an actor and had been for the longest time. He was successful at what he wanted to do and you cheered him on from your own tiny part of the world. But seeing him again after all this time, it wasn’t easy. It made you realize just how much you missed the way he’d call you sweetheart. You missed that in the sound of his voice, which was a lot deeper than it was the last time you heard it directed at you.

The afternoon dragged on and four became six. Victoria and Melaine cleaned everything out front and took a few things to go home. You were left with closing up and counting the money made in sales before you could head home. You were just packaging up the last of the cookies when you heard the ding of the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed now. We open back up on Monday,” you called out, closing the packet.

“Uh, sorry,” the familiar voice said, causing you to look up. Jensen was standing by the door with a nervous look on his face. You swallowed hard, not knowing where exactly you should look at him.

“Jensen,” you breathed out.

“Hey,” he half smiled, taking a step forward.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly, instantly cursing yourself for it. “Did your nephew like his cake?”

“Oh yeah,” he let out a chuckle. “Said it was the best birthday cake he’s ever had.”

“Good, I’m glad,” you nodded.

“How long have you been in Texas?” he asked, making his way over to the counter.

“Almost thirteen years now,” you told him.

“T-thirteen years?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I hated it in Minnesota.”

“You’ve always been a Texan at heart,” he smirked, going quiet for a moment. “You know, you’re even more beautiful now than you were fifteen years ago.”

“Jensen,” your cast your eyes down, unsure of what to say. “We’re not the same people we were back then.”

“I know,” he nodded, licking his bottom lip before he looked at you. “Doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”

“What are you doing here, Jensen?” you asked him, opening up the package of cookies, motioning for him to take one.

“I - uh,” he paused, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “I was hoping that maybe I’d catch you before you headed home. Uh, maybe see if you would want to go out for dinner? Catch up?”

“You sure you want to do that mister famous actor?” you teased him, watching his chest fall as he let out a laugh.

“So you’ve been keeping up a little,” he said with a chuckle.

“Here and there,” you shrugged. “I do have to finish up here before I do anything.”

“Anything I can help with?” He offered as he took a cookie from the packet. You smiled, closing it right, trying not to look at Jensen. “These taste amazing. They are even better than I remember.”

“Same recipe I used before,” you told him. “If you want to pack up the rest of these while I do the deposit, I’d appreciate it. I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

“Nah. Put me to work,” he assured you.

You showed him where the containers were and he got to work instantly, starting from the right side of the display, moving onwards. You headed over to the cash, taking out the register to bring it to your office which was right by the display.

“How long has this place been open?” Jensen asked you.

“Almost three years,” you answered, emptying out the till.

“Gotta say, you’re pretty successful here,” he told you. “Lots of customers. Bakery is amazing. I always thought you’d open up one in Minnesota.”

“I couldn’t wait to leave,” you admitted. “I lasted two years before I came back to Texas. It’s always been my home.”

“Your mom still there?”

“Yeah, with her boyfriend dickwad,” you shared. “At least, that’s what I call him. Not the biggest fan of him if you couldn’t tell.”

“Your dad here then?”

“He’s around here somewhere. He stopped talking to me after mom took me away after the divorce was finalized,” you revealed. “Now, he doesn’t talk to me much.”

“That sucks,” he frowned.

“How long are you visiting for?” You dared to ask.

“Few days before I head back. Changed my flight,” he said lowly.

“When were you supposed to leave?” You cocked your eyebrow.

“Tomorrow at three in the morning,” he said sheepishly. “But I knew as soon as I saw you-“

“Jensen, dont,” you swallowed hard.

“C’mon, it’s not like we parted on bad terms,” he reminded you. “It’s not like either of us had a choice in the matter. You were leaving to move a million miles away.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But It’s different now. I’m not sixteen anymore. You’re not sixteen.”

“No. I’m thirty one,” he reminded you. “Back then, we didn’t have cell phones or whatever. It’s different now, but at the same time, it feels exactly the same.”

“It’s not going to work,” you shook your head.

“Okay, say you are right,” he paused, glancing over to you in the office. “Will you at least hang out with me for one night?”

“Considering you probably aren’t going to leave until I say yes, fine,” you stated.

“You’re not wrong,” he shrugged.

You finished counting up the money from the day and put it in the safe before locking it up. You pulled your keys out, grabbing your jacket before shutting the door behind you. You took a deep breath, seeing Jensen standing there waiting in anticipation. You knew this was going to be a mistake. You knew it the second he walked in here that this was a mistake. Too much time had gone by between you and you couldn’t let yourself snap back into what the two of you had before you parted ways.

“Ready?” he asked you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, tightening your jacket around yourself. Jensen placed his hand on your back, walking with you towards the front doors of your little shop. You pulled your purse over your shoulder before switching keys to lock up the place.

He stood by the curb, his hand in the air to hail a taxi to take the two of you wherever. You could feel your stomach getting tighter. You were nervous. Something you hadn’t felt around a guy in a very long time.

A taxi pulled over to the side of the road, stopping right in front of you and Jensen. You let out a shaky breath as he opened up the door, motioning for you to get in first. He joined you seconds later, shutting the door.

“Hi, could you drop us off at Beertown please,” Jensen said to the driver. A young man who simply nodded his head without a word. It took everything in you not to look over at Jensen. You wanted to so bad. You wanted to see if the freckles still dusted over his cheeks. You wanted to see the greens of his eyes and get lost in the millions of stories he had seen over the years.

It was a short ride to the restaurant he was taking you to. One of the ones you frequented growing up. You were never legal to drink, but the food was amazing and so was the atmosphere. It was where he took you for your first date. One you’d never forget. You were more nervous about this dinner than you were on the first date.

He helped you out of the taxi and led you to the front door of the restaurant. You took another deep breath, trying to control yourself as the waiter led you to your table in the back. Somewhere a little more private as Jensen asked for.

“It feels like it was a lifetime ago that we were here,” he commented.

“It was a lifetime ago,” you said. “We were fifteen. Still in high school.”

“Back when everything was simple and all we had to worry about was finals,” he chuckled.

“That and I remember worrying about my parents fighting all the time. ‘T’s why I spent so much time with you at your place. Your family always got along, unlike mine. I liked it there,” you shared.

“It sucked a lot when you were gone,” he swallowed hard. “I know we parted on good terms but it was hard without you.”

“Least you had your friends though,” you reminded him.

“I still have your letter,” he confessed. “In my apartment in Vancouver. I still have it.”

“Really?” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I wrote you back and then never heard from you again.”

“Mom was pissed at me,” you sighed. “Moving away from everything and everyone I knew was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. It was worse when she didn’t listen to me when I told her I was struggling. Failed three classes my last semester of high school. Managed to get into UT and left. I was homesick and I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he stated. “Hell, I went to prom with my buddies.”

“I think we made it worse for ourselves though, Jensen,” you breathed out.

“Hey there. What can I get for the two of you?” the waiter smiled, pulling out her notepad.

“We’ll have two classic burgers, some fries and two of whatever you have on tap please,” Jensen told him.

“Coming right up,” he nodded, taking off to the next table.

“What do you mean you think we made things worse?” he cocked his head to the side, folding his arms on the table.

“I think you know exactly what I mean, Jay,” you said lowly.

“Are you - do you mean the night before you left?” he furrowed his brows. “The night we-”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Do you regret it?” he inquired.

“No. Of course not. But it made everything a million times harder,” you revealed. “It was all I could think about from the time I left until I got there. Even then, I thought it wasn’t going to be so bad because we were both applying to UT and we were going to see each other again soon enough.”

“But I didn’t,” he frowned. “I left for LA instead.”

“It is what it is,” you nodded. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not proud of you. I want you to know that. I’ve been following you from the start. I watch every episode, and every movie. I’ve seen your interviews and I follow all your accounts on everything. Hell I’ve even seen some convention footage.”

“I wish I could do the same with you,” he brought up. “Trust me, I’ve looked and haven’t been successful so far. Made me wonder if you got married and changed your name.”

“No. I’m not married,” you chuckled. “Not to anyone at least. Work maybe.”

“Here are your meals and your beer. Enjoy!” the waiter smiled as he placed everything down on the table. He even brought some ketchup for the fries and a bottle of vinegar. You gave him a warm smile with your thank you, looking forward to diving in.

“What about you?” you dared to ask.

“What about me?” he furrowed his brows.

“C’mon, a guy like you has to have a girlfriend,” you teased him.

“Nope,” he shook his head, picking up his burger.

“Yeah, I find that very hard to believe. Girls were always fawning over you in high school and I’ve seen what people say about you on the internet,” you giggled.

“See, the only one that mattered to me was you. You have had my attention since I met you in kindergarten,” he let out a laugh. “My parents always said we were childhood sweethearts.”

“We were,” you agreed. “You were my first everything, Jensen. Quite frankly, I’m glad you were too.”

“Why is that?” he cocked his eyebrow.

“Because you treated me like a queen,” you shrugged, taking a fry off the plate. “You treated me better than anyone’s first boyfriend does at that age. You set my expectations high, which is why I’m not married or with anyone. No one can live up to the simple standards you set when we were sixteen years old.”

“Good,” he declared. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. Don’t settle for anything less. I was honoured to be your knight in shining armour.”

“You mean king?” you corrected him.

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m simply a knight, sweetheart.” And just like that, you melted into the seat. You felt like you were sixteen again, sitting in the passenger's seat of his truck, staring out at the sunset in the field. The little moments that meant a lot to you.

“Well I beg to differ, darlin’,” you winked, trying to play it cool. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. How could it possibly feel like no time had passed between you? Fifteen years had gone by and yet, you connected if it was just yesterday.

“I missed that,” he smirked.

“What?” you cocked your head to the side.

“You calling me darlin’, or honey,” he admitted almost nervously. “For the record, you made me feel like a king, even if I was a knight.”

You grabbed your burger off your plate, finally taking a bite from it. The flavours danced on your tastebuds, bringing you back. This whole night was filled with nostalgia. You came to the conclusion that this couldn’t happen again after tonight. It was too hard to sit with him, and reminisce about how great things were many years ago. It was hard to sit with him and look at his soft features you had spent so much time with and know that it was in the past. Jensen was your best friend growing up. He was your rock. Your light in the darkness. But you couldn’t let him back into your life again and have things go sour this time around. You needed to keep those happy memories happy. Not turn them into something you have to speak to a therapist about in two years.

“When do you leave?” you asked him, taking a sip of your beer.

“Monday night,” he answered, taking a fry off the plate. “So I’m here another day and a bit.”

“I’m sure your parents are happy to see you,” you half smiled.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They think I work too much. I don’t visit often enough according to them.”

“Your parents are cute,” you giggled. “They still have your bedroom in tact?”

“No actually. They did some renovations on the house and turned my room into one of the kids rooms when they have over the grandkids. I’m staying in a hotel for the next few nights. They have an extra room in the basement for me but it’s not ready yet.”

“Your parents were always the busy type,” you pointed out. “Your mom was always doing something when I was there.”

You watched as Jensen brought his beer up to his lips, taking a good drink of it. Your eyes wandered over his features once more. His soft hair sticking up and leaning a little more to his right. The crinkles by his eyes made you smile, especially when he did. He was handsome and he only got better with age. He had grown into himself now that you allowed yourself to look at him. He wasn’t a scrawny kid anymore.

“Can I get you guys anything for dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared away your plates.

“No thank you,” you mouth to Jensen.

“No thanks, can we just get the cheque please,” he nodded politely.

You sat still in your seat, reaching for your phone in your purse to check your messages. This wasn’t a date, you reminded yourself. This was acceptable and this was you check on your business. You had no email orders thankfully and everything else looked fine. It was seeming more likely that you could have a day to rest tomorrow instead of in the kitchen. You took a deep breath, hoping that maybe you and Jensen would part ways after this and you could head home to spend the night in your apartment.

The waiter came over, placing the cheque on the table. Before you could even look at it, Jensen had taken out his wallet and placed some money inside it. He never let you pay for dinner, even back then.

“Thank you for dinner, Jensen,” you smiled at him.

“Thank you for joining me,” he half smiled. “Any chance your night is free?”

“What did you have in mind?” you cocked your eyebrow.

“Honestly, nothing. I just don’t want to leave you yet,” he confessed. You were a little confused for a moment. You couldn’t understand why he wanted to spend more time with you. He was a famous actor now. You were a small town girl he was with a million years ago. You had history but this was almost too far. You appreciated his honesty. You just had a bad feeling about this.

“Jensen,” you breathed out, getting up from your seat. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You feel it too?” he asked, almost sheepishly. You licked your bottom lip, your eyes casting down. Your heart rate picked up a little at his words. There was this awkward tension that had been sitting there with you most of the night, just waiting to make its move. It finally had.

“Feel what, exactly?” you dared to ask.

“This awkward weirdness that’s never been there before,” he pointed out. “Something telling you to walk away.”

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded, adjusting your purse over your shoulder. You let out a sigh. “But there is also this stupid feeling inside of me that’s stopping me from walking away. That same stupid feeling I got when you asked me to dinner.”

“That same feeling when you saw me earlier today,” he breathed out.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“C’mon,” he motioned for you to follow him. You nodded your head, letting him lead the way out of the restaurant. The sun was starting to set, creating a nice warm orange tone in the sky. Jensen walked down the sidewalk, a few steps ahead of you.

What the hell were you doing? You barely knew him now. He was Jensen Ackles, a well known actor. You were Y/N Y/L/N. You owned a tiny bakery. That was your accomplishment. He had everything and so much more. He was the definition of success. Everyone loved him. You are not about to be a part of that. You were not about to be reckless after years of hard work.

“Jensen wait,” you swallowed hard, as you stopped in front of the park, taking a seat on the bench. He looked at you in confusion before taking a seat next to you.

“What’s up?”

“Where are we going?” you shrugged. “What are we doing?”

“I- I don’t know,” he sighed.

“I can’t do this, Jensen,” you shook your head. “I’m not doing this. I’m sorry. It was really nice seeing you after all this time.”

With that, you got up and started walking the other direction. You couldn’t sit there with him. You could go wherever he was going to take you and you certainly couldn’t let yourself get attached to the idea of loving him again. He was your childhood sweetheart. The one who taught you what love was and how to love someone with everything. Too much time had passed and you were two completely different people now. There was no changing that and you didn’t want to.

“Y/N, wait up,” you heard Jensen call out from behind you, followed by heavy footsteps, indicating that he was running after you.

“Jensen-“

Before you could even get a word out, his lips were on yours, kissing you hard. His hands came up to your cheeks, just like they used to when he kissed you unexpectedly. Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you could feel your lips tingling at the sudden contact. You wanted to reach out for him; pull him in close and kiss him like you used to for hours on end. His lips were soft along with the stubble growing on his face. You couldn’t deny kissing him back as your eyes fluttered shut. His breathing was heavy after running, shortening the kiss by quite a bit.

“Sorry,” he swallowed hard. “I had to.”

“It’s okay,” you nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. Your eyes cast down for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Look, seeing you - it brought up a lot of memories that I don’t think I was ready for. I never really got over you, you know? You were in my life everyday for eleven years and then you were just gone and I barely got to say a proper goodbye.”

“You did,” you assured him. “That last night before when we had sex for the first time. That was goodbye.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said softly. “I don’t want to leave this on bad terms.”

“We’re not going to,” you assured him. His lip curled upwards as his piercing green eyes met yours. You could feel the tension building between the two of you. His words swirling around in your head. He never really got over you, just the same as you never got over him. He was the one you lost all those years ago and it didn’t seem like he was walking away without a fight. Not this time.

“My hotel is just down the street. What do I have to do to convince you to come with me?” he smirked, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Depends,” you played. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing you aren’t comfortable with,” he said. “I just know I'm going to regret it if I don’t ask you.”

His words were honest. For a second, you saw a glimpse of a boy you knew a long time ago. A boy who was willing to do anything to put a smile on your face. Deep down, you knew he was still in there. He had to be for people to talk about him the way they did. He was admired by everyone he worked with.

“Alright,” you agreed, nodding your head.

“I’m not expecting anything-”

“I know,” you smiled.

“So what was Minnesota like?” he asked, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you walked down the sidewalk.

“Shitty,” you scoffed. “People aren’t that nice. After my first class at my new school, I went into the bathroom and cried. It was the first time I had no one and I was terrified. It’s why I came back to Texas. My mom was too busy with her new boyfriend to even notice.”

“You didn’t make any friends?” he furrowed his brows.

“No. Not a single one. I didn’t go to prom. I thought about skipping graduation,” you confessed. “I never want to feel like that again.”

“Anyone ask you to prom?” he cocked his head.

“Yeah, one guy,” you shook your head. “Only because he thought I was a virgin and he wanted to up his score.”

“Really?” he swallowed hard.

“I told him I had a boyfriend with a huge dick and I wasn’t interested in contracting herpes,” you let out a laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, pulling you in tighter to him.

“What about you? How many girlfriends have you had since?” you poked his side playfully.

“Three including you,” he answered. “I didn’t date anyone for a few years after you. I was about twenty when I started dating a girl who was a year younger and that lasted for about a year. She and I just didn’t click after sometime. Then a couple of years later, I met someone who was really cool. We dated for two years before calling it quits. I work too much and so did she. We were just better off without each other.”

“Sucks when you work a lot in a different country,” you breathed out.

“It does,” he agreed. “You dated anyone else?”

“One guy in college for about three years,” you shared. “Justin. Turns out you can date someone for three years and not really know them all that well.”

“Oh really?” he frowned, leading you into the front doors of the hotel.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I called you a king. Well this guy was more like a street rat in the end.”

“Like Aladdin kind of street rat?” he joked playfully.

“Shut up,” you giggled. “Worse. Aladdin at least had a good heart. He got the princess in the end. I’m talking about Jafar here!”

“Fuck that guy,” he stated. “You deserve better than that.”

“I had better than that,” you reminded him. “You ever think about what would have happened if my parents never split and I never would have left?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I always come to the same conclusion though.”

“Which is?”

“You hating me,” he revealed. “If you never left, we would have made it to graduation and I would have left for LA and it would have been a messy break up and you would have hated me. Or I would have accidently knocked you up and ruined your life and you would have hated me. Say that never happened, I work in a different country and the distance would have driven us apart and you would have hated me. No situation has a good outcome.”

“You always were an overthinker,” you teased him.

“So are you,” he chuckled.

He led you over to the elevators on the right side of the hotel lobby. His arm was still around you, tucking you into him. You had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen as soon as you entered his hotel room. You knew his expectations were low, and you understood that. But god, did you miss him. You never really realized until his lips were on yours. Everything came flooding back to you. Suddenly, you were sixteen years old again and nothing had changed.

“Jensen,” you whispered as soon as the elevator doors shut. He leaned over, pressing number twenty seven. “I could never hate you.”

“Yeah, but you could not like me and that’s not something I want,” he admitted. “I’m going to be honest with you here. I know I’m a little off tonight. Not that you could tell, but I can.”

“You’re a little clingy,” you joked, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“My best friend got married two weeks ago,” he sighed. “I was one of his groomsmen at the wedding. I just see him with her and how happy they are, and when I did, the first thought that came to mind was you. I still think about you, more than I should. Maybe it’s because we never really split up for a bad reason. Both of us still had strong feelings for each other and we were ripped apart from each other. Then I saw you today, after looking for you for years, in Texas again and I - I just knew I had to take a chance.”

Your mouth went dry at his words as the elevator doors dinged open on floor twenty seven. You didn’t know exactly what to think. Did he just miss you? Was this a mid life, I’m never going to settle down kind of thing? Was he just thinking of you because of what you had a million years ago. Jensen didn’t know the person you were now. He didn’t know what the last fifteen years of your life were like, and you didn’t know about his.

But that didn’t mean that you didn’t miss him. After all, he was the only man you had ever loved. You were convinced he was the love of your life for the longest time.

“W-which room?” you asked him.

“End of the hall,” he pointed to the left.

You stepped out first, holding out your hand for him to take. He ducked his head down, trying to hide his smile before slipping his hand in yours. His hands were rougher than you remember them being, and a little bit bigger. Engulfing yours in warmth. You could smile without him seeing. You didn’t want to give away the fact that you loved the feeling of his hand in yours again.

“Here,” he stopped you, releasing your hand. You stood next to him, watching him slide the key into the door before the green light flashed. He opened up the door, motioning for you to walk inside.

You could smell the cool hotel room air as soon as you stepped inside. The first thing you noticed was the big window on the other side of the room. It took up the entire part of the wall. The view was beautiful. It was nice to see Dallas from this perspective.

You turned around, seeing Jensen standing behind you with his hands in his jean pockets. He was looking at you with a soft smile playing on his lips. Your eyes darted to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. He had his bag on the chair next to the bed.

“So to continue on from what you said in the elevator,” you paused, “you’re in a bit of a dark place, huh?”

“I was,” he admitted. “Then I saw you today. Randomly, out of the blue. You were just there.”

“Coincidence,” you shrugged.

“Or fate,” he swallowed hard.

“Or fate,” you breathed out. You felt your heart rate picking up as you looked at him.

“You haven’t changed much,” he said lowly. “You’re still kind, and caring. You still laugh at the same things. Back then, I thought you couldn’t get anymore beautiful. Until I saw you today.”

“You age like fine wine yourself,” you smirked. “You’re taller, and more muscular.”

“I grew up a bit,” he chuckled.

“Still got your cute lil’ bowlegs though,” you giggled, taking a step towards him.

“Shut up,” he let out a laugh. “God, I want to kiss you again.”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked him, taking a seat on the end of the bed, looking up at him.

“Overthinking,” he let out a dry chuckle.

“Spill.”

“I could kiss you,” he paused. “But then I know I’m going to want to do it over and over again. I don’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to be the reason why we don’t talk again for another fifteen years.”

“I think both of us are afraid of that,” you confessed. “But I’m also going into this prepared for that.”

“So what are you saying?” He asked.

“I’m saying we have tonight. Let’s just focus on that first,” you whispered. “We can go back to our lives after this.”

“Can I at least grab your number before you leave?” he asked you.

“I’ll think about it,” you played, getting up from the bed. “I have to say, it’s really good to see you again.”

He stepped forward, slipping his hand around the small of your back. You felt your heart flutter in your chest at his touch, craving more of it. This time, you allowed yourself to hold him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You stood on your tiptoes, carefully pressing your lips to his in a hesitant kiss. His grip tightened on you, drawing you in closer as he kissed you back.

Memories of the past came rushing back to you. Jensen was just a boy you were best friends with. The one you spent everyday with up until the day you left. You remember the day he kissed you for the first time like it was yesterday. Out in the park where you frequented. He sat at the end of the slide, waiting for you to come down one evening. It was just the two of you left. Everyone had gone home for dinner. He was so smooth and cute about it, which was one of the reasons why you fell so hard for him so quickly.

Every moment from then on led up to now. You wanted this to be another addition to those memories. Your king making his way back to the castle for a moment. You knew it wasn’t going to be permanent and you were almost sure you could handle that, if it meant you had tonight with him.

You parted your lips, deepening the kiss as your arms tightened around his shoulders. Every so often, his nose brushed against the side of yours. His tongue slipped across yours, and you could taste the beer he had with dinner earlier tonight. You want more of him. You wanted every part of him. His touch had heat pooling in your core. The smell of his cologne only entranced you more. You were headed down a path that you couldn’t turn back from. You weren’t sure you even wanted to.

“Jensen,” you breathed out, pulling away just slightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Too much?” he whispered.

“No,” you shook your head. For a moment, you paused, not sure if this was something he was okay with. You wanted his touch, and you craved it. You didn’t know if it was okay the other way around.

You released him from your hold. Your hands making their way to your jacket, quickly peeling it off. Jensen stood there, his eyes locked on your every move. In a moment of confidence, you tore your t-shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor. That confidence quickly fell away when you realized he had probably dated models, and seen so many beautiful women that were so much nicer to look at compared to you. God, what the -

“You’re so damn beautiful, sweetheart,” he said softly. Just like that, one damn word and you were melting into again. He shrugged off his flannel shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He took the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his torso inch by inch. His stomach was soft, just like it was fifteen years ago, only now, he had grown into himself. He had a tiny trail of hairs leading down into his jeans, making you smile. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Jensen,” you whispered, “you’re so handsome.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said with a nervous smile.

“I do,” you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, reaching for the button on your jeans. His hand came up to yours, halting your movements.

“Is this - are you sure?” he furrowed his brows.

“For old times sake,” you winked. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“Fuck,” he smiled, looking down. “For old times sake.”

You continued to undo your pants while he worked on his own. This was definitely happening and you were more than okay with it. You felt that desire building inside you, and you needed to satisfy the itch. You needed him for so many reasons. He stood there in his black boxers. The outline of his cock making an appearance. He looked bigger now than he was back then.

You stood there in your bra and panties, unable to take your eyes off of him. You could feel yourself dripping in your panties. God, you wanted him. You wanted to feel his length inside you again. You wanted to hear him come undone to you touch.

“Do we need-”

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra, letting one of the last articles of clothing fall to the floor. Jensen’s eyes never left your body. You watched as his eyes darkened at the sight of you. His hands reaching for your body for the first time. You melted into his touch, letting your nerves simmer down.

“So perfect,” he muttered under his breath. “I can’t keep my hands off you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to.” Your nipples hardened at the coolness of the air.

You turned in his hold, facing him. His eyes roamed over your body, his bottom lip coming between his teeth. He had such an effect on you and quite frankly you couldn’t get enough now that you had started.

You motioned for him to get on your bed and he did so quickly. You straddled his hips, your centre lining up with the bulge in his boxers. A tiny wave of pleasure coursed through you as you did. Your lips were on his in an instant, your tongue dancing with his. His hands held you tightly against him.

Your heart was soaring in your chest as you kissed him. Your hands traced over every inch of exposed skin like it was the first time. You loved the way he felt beneath you. You loved the way you felt in his hold. It was calming, and warm. Jensen made you feel safe and there was no one in the world you could say made you feel that way and you were slowly starting to realize that.

“Hmm Y/N,” he breathed out. You ground your hips against his, eliciting a groan from his lips. “I’ve gotta have you.”

“Have me,” you muttered.

“Yeah?”

“I like this,” he mumbled.

“You want me on top of you?” You played.

“I want you anyway,” he growled.

You climbed off of him, slipping your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. His eyes hooded with lust and desire as he glanced over you. His smile was soft, and sincere as he did.

You leaned down, dipping your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down his legs. His cock sprang free, hitting his stomach with a soft slap. You smirked, throwing one leg over his lap once more. You took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

You pressed your forehead to his, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, eyes that you never thought you’d get to look into again. Now he was staring into yours, trying to learn you all over again.

You sank down on his length, slowly letting him fill you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. The first thrust was always the best. The feeling of being one; of being so damn close to one another. Jensen took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You saw how much they had darkened once he opened them. Your lips collided with his as he bottomed out inside you.

His hands rested between your shoulder blades, pulling you in closer to him. You shifted, lifting your hips before sinking back down, creating a steady pace that worked for both of you. Jensen’s hands slipped down the length of your back, resting them on your ass to help you move on him.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

“Jense,” you breathed out. You gripped his shoulders, bouncing a little faster on his dick. A thin layer of sweat began to bead along your skin.

Jensen held you to him, shifting quickly. Your back hit the mattress. Jensen thrusted into you at a quickened pace. His entire weight was on top of you, adding to the pleasure he brought to you. His cock was dragging perfectly against your sweet spot, pushing you closer and closer to your breaking point. You could hear the tiny cries that escaped passed his lips as he drove into you. Your nails scrapped down his back, trying to pull him in even closer to you.

His lips attached to the spot beneath your ear as his thrusts slowed down to almost teasingly slow. You let out a moan as he sucked down softly. The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stood up. He paid attention to you and what you liked. You carded your fingers through his hair, something you knew he liked.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled into your neck.

His thrusts picked up a little more. You could tell he was getting closer by the way he was breathing. His mouth was ajar, and his tongue just peaked passed his lips. He was fucking gorgeous before he came, and every other time really. But this was different. Not many people had seen this.

“Jensen, I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead,” he breathed out. “I’m right behind you.”

“Come for me, Jense,” you urged him on, trying to keep up with his thrusts.

Within a few thrusts, your walls were clenching around his cock, squeezing him as pleasure soared through you. Your body was shaking beneath him as you threw your head back against the mattress. Your fingers digging into his back once more. You couldn’t contain your moan, or any of the words that rolled off your tongue. He made you feel so damn good, and you didn’t want to hold back.

Jensen wasn’t too far behind you. His thrusts became sloppy, and inconsistent. He tried to get as close to you as he could. His balls slapping against your ass. He came with a muffled cry of your name, spilling himself deep inside you. He slowed down, letting his orgasm run its course.

He lay on top of you, trying to catch his breath. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, waiting for his breathing to even out. The second time was even better than the first and you were thankful it was. It was a nice moment between the two of you. Finally feeling him again like you had craved for years after you left.

“Guess now I can cross have sex with an actor off my bucket list,” you breathed out with a chuckle.

“Shut up,” he shook his head, grinning into your neck before shifting off of you. He withdrew himself from you, and you instantly felt the loss of him. He hopped off the bed, heading into the bathroom. Your eyes wandered down to his perky ass, watching as he walked away.

He came back seconds later with a warm washcloth in his hand. He cleaned you up, just like he did the first time you did this together. You smiled at him. He was still that sweet boy you had known all those years ago.

You made yourself comfortable on the bed, waiting for him to come back and join you. It was just after ten and you didn’t exactly want to leave at this time and make your way home by yourself. You didn’t know if you should stay the night.

“At least this time I actually get to cuddle with you,” he chuckled. “You don’t have to sneak out the window to head home.”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” you scoffed. “I wasn’t exactly expecting your brother to come home.”

“Neither was I,” he shook his head. “C’mere.”

You inched over to him, throwing your arm around his waist before intertwining your leg with his. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder before placing a kiss to the top of your head. You could feel yourself slowly unwinding from the day. You were up early to start your orders and didn’t stop until Jensen walked in just after you closed. You were exhausted.

“You smell good,” he muttered, kissing your head once more.

“So do you,” you yawned. “You also stink of sex.”

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly.

Your eyes fluttered open to a dark room. The clock in the corner read four thirty six. You were in a hotel room. Shit, you were in Jensen’s hotel room. You glanced to the other side of the bed, finding Jensen laying there on his back. He was fast asleep.

Guilt rushed through you. What were you doing here? Why were you still here with him? You knew you shouldn’t be. He was Jensen Ackles, an actor. He wasn’t your best friend anymore. He wasn’t that same small town boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago. He was a busy, hardworking man now. You were from two completely different worlds. He loved the idea of you and what your past was.

You carefully slipped out of the bed, trying not to make any big movements that would wake him. You bent down, picking up each article of clothing, putting it back on. You were doing him a favour. You couldn’t be that girl he used to know. You couldn’t give up your dreams for a past dream.

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked back at him. He was forever going to be the man you had fallen in love with. The one who treated you like a queen. You couldn’t be that for him now. He deserved better than that. He was simply confused and he saw you and thought of an easy way to get what he wanted.

You tiptoed over to him, leaning over to him. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before turning to head out. You never expected it to hurt so bad, but it did. Jensen was your happy thought in a world full of misery for two whole years. He was the one thing that got through to you when you felt like giving up.

You slipped out of the hotel room, quietly shutting the door behind you. As soon as you got to the elevators, the tears slipped down your cheeks. It hurt. God, did it hurt. But you were leaving on good terms. You were leaving after a night of reminiscing and soft touches. A night filled with the same passion you had all those years ago. You wanted it to go that way. You wanted him to remember that about you.

You took a taxi back to the shop, trying to keep your tears at bay at that time. You must have looked like a crazy person to the older man. Eyes red and puffy heading to a bakery at nearly five in the morning.

It was just starting to drizzle when you stepped out of the cab after paying for your fare. You had your keys ready in your hand, opening up the door to your shop. Your biggest accomplishment. Everything you had in the small little shop was created by you. You built this. You worked your ass off for this and the way you felt at this very moment - it was like it meant nothing.

You walked into the back of the building, heading up the stairs to get to your apartment located right above the shop. The only way you could keep the costs low. You opened up your apartment door, stepping inside. The second the door shut, the tears kept coming. You were doing the right thing, you reminded yourself. You were doing what was for the best.

Monday morning came quickly. For the first time, you didn’t want to get out of bed and start the day. You didn’t want to go to work and you didn’t want to bake something. You just wanted to take a break. You wanted to go back to three days ago when Jensen wasn’t a thought on your mind. When he was just a public figure on the internet.

You threw on a blue t-shirt and a comfortable pair of black pants. You weren’t bothering with makeup today. You were going to bake and that was it. No customers today. Your sole focus was making cupcakes for a birthday party and a few pies for orders. You could finish by one and go back up to your bed.

“Morning, Y/N,” Victoria smiled at you, handing you your morning coffee.

“Morning,” you smiled at her, reaching for your drink.

“Rough weekend?” she smiled knowingly.

“You have no idea,” you chuckled dryly. “I know I look like ass. If you and Melanie could keep a handle on everything out front. I don’t exactly want to scare customers away with my grudge look today.”

“You look as beautiful as always. You’re just too hard on yourself,” she smiled. “We can take care of things no problem.”

“Thank you,” you gave her a warm smile.

You pulled some of the already prepared cookie dough from the fridge, placing them on three trays to begin filling things up out front. You had your cupcake batter on the go and your buttercream already mixing in the kitchen aid. The smell was starting to fill the kitchen, making you feel more at ease. This is what you were good at. This is what you loved to do.

You poured the chocolate batter into the cupcake holders, adding in a little extra to have bigger cupcakes. It was for a girls birthday party. The buttercream was sitting in the mixer. A nice neon pink colour that was going to go well with the dark chocolate cupcake.

“Hey Y/N,” Melanie poked her head back. “Someone is here asking about the open position.”

“Oh really?” your ears perked up. “Uh well, send them back here and we’ll take it from there.”

“Okay,” she beamed, turning away.

You grabbed your measuring cylinder, placing your piping bag into it so you could get your buttercream ready for when the cupcakes were done. The timer for the cookies went off at the same time. In the corner of your eye, you caught a figure, which had to be the one inquiring about the position.

“I’ll be right with you. I just have a lot on the go,” you told them, grabbing your oven mitts to take the three trays out of the oven. You had a cooling rack next to your oven, perfect for placing lots of products when they were done. “You’re interested in a baking position?”

“Yeah,” the deep voice said. You almost stopped what you were doing. You were definitely expecting a female voice. “I’m only available Saturdays, and the odd Fridays. Depending on when I get off my other job and when I can fly in.”

You turned around, taking a deep breath. Jensen was standing there with his hands in his pockets. He was clearly nervous. He looked about as good as you did, if you were being honest. His eyes were tired.

“Y-you’re not actually interested in the position are you?” you swallowed hard.

“I am,” he nodded. “I can’t bake to save my life but I'm interested.”

“Jensen-”

“Why’d you leave?” he asked you. “I woke up and you were just gone. No sign you had even been there.”

“I can’t, Jensen,” you sighed in defeat, moving over to one of the stools by your counter.

“Why not?” he questioned, taking his hands out of his pockets. “I told you I still have feelings for you-”

“That’s not enough and you know it,” you licked your bottom lip, your eyes casting down. “Feelings don’t make a relationship work, especially not one between two people that barely know each other anymore. I get that your best friend getting married striked something in you and seeing me didn’t help. But I can’t be that girl for you, Jensen. I can’t drop everything I’ve worked for and that’s why it would never work. You’re an actor who works in a different country. I work six days a week here. Timezones, distance, insecurities, doubts, guilt, and god knows what else will come between us. It doesn’t matter if I still love you or not.”

“Do you?” he asked lowly. “Still love me?”

“Of course I do. I never stopped, ” you admitted. “But it’s not enough.”

“I’m not asking you to give this up for me,” he said to you, taking a step closer to you. “I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

“This isn’t because of everything is it?” you dared to ask.

“This is because I love you and I never stopped,” he stated. “I’ll fly down every weekend I don’t work to take a Saturday shift and spend Sundays with you.”

“N-no,” you shook your head.

“Y/N, are those cookies done by chance?” Melanie asked sheepishly. “Sorry, I know you’re in the midst-”

“Yeah, you can take one. They are hot though,” you told her. She snuck passed you with the empty tray in her hand. She moved quickly, placing eight of them in their places before sneaking back out. The tension was growing in the room.

“Why not, Y/N?” he sighed in defeat.

“I can’t be the girl you want me to be, Jensen. I can’t walk red carpets with you and be in the public eye like you are. I can’t be the girl I once was,” you sniffled.

“And I’m not asking you to be,” he declared. “All I want is you. You and whatever comes with you. Whatever shit you’ve been through, whatever it is. I’ll take it as my own. I just know that I love you and I haven’t felt my heart beat the way it has with you in a really long fucking time.”

“You could have anyone -”

“All I want is you,” he repeated. “Long days, phone calls, weekend flights. I’ll do it if it means I can be with you.”

“I work six days a week,” you reminded him.

“I’ll work Saturday’s,” he stated. “You’ve already seen me work.”

“I live in a one bedroom shoe box apartment above this store,” you shared.

“Is that your attempt to get me to change my mind,” he chuckled, taking the stool in front of you. He placed his hands on your legs, looking at you. “Nothing you can say will change my mind. I looked for you for ten years, Y/N. Now that I found you again, I’m not losing you.”

“I don’t have money to fly to you,” you argued.

“Don’t care. I’ve got frequent flyer points,” he smiled. “Anything else?”

“I think I’m done now,” you admitted with a half smile. “For now.”

“So do I have the job?” he cocked his head to the side.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re on probation though.”

“Is it because I can’t bake?” he let out a laugh.

“Yes. One hundred percent.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “But do me a favour?”

“Anything,” you looked up at him.

“Don’t ever leave me in the middle of the night like that again,” he breathed out, leaning over. He pressed his lips to your cheek.

“Promise,” you agreed. “I gotta work now, darlin’.”

“Put me to work, sweetheart. I can fit in a couple of hours before my flight,” he winked. “I’ll be back Friday night for three days.”

“Good,” you beamed, holding your hand out for him to take. You helped him off the stool and led him over to the counter. You handed him an apron so he wouldn’t get his shirt dirty.

“Hey Y/N,” Victoria smiled as she walked back into your work area. “Did we hire this one?”

“Yeah,” you nodded with a wide grin. “For now.”

“Good,” she smiled. “It’s about time you let someone in. Glad it’s heart eyes.”

“Heart eyes?” Jensen furrowed his brows.

“You gave me heart eyes when you saw me Saturday afternoon,” you teased him.

“Crazy heart eyes,” she pointed out. “Break her heart and I’ll break your face.”

“Victoria,” you said, wide eyed.

“I don’t care who he is,” she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “I can take on Dean Winchester.”

“There’s an idea,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your table.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Jensen smirked.

“Nothing, darlin’.”

“Yeah okay,” he chuckled, leaning over to you, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You smiled against him, finally allowing yourself to truly enjoy it for the first time. You really were childhood sweethearts. You only hoped that you became a couple that was destined to grow old together. Either way, you were glad you were entering this journey with Jensen by your side.

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

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response keeps me writing!

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strange-old-worlds · 2 years

Text

Tuesday 5th April 2022

Had a late start today and now I'm feeling indecisive about what to do with the rest of the afternoon.

Things I want to do with my week off:

Sew a new skirt

Pick up a book on HTML from the library

Finish reading my current book

Deep clean the kitchen

Reorganise my room

Get through all the laundry

Spend a day doing nothing important

To-do today - completed! 🎉

Buy groceries

Day 5 of my crochet challenge

Post etsy updates to instagram

Laundry

Work on OFMD sticker design

Start new skirt

This week I've started listening to the radio again. There's something nice about just letting it carry me along and waiting to find out what will be on next. This afternoon I cut out skirt lining pieces to a Raffles radio play, and then listened to a Sherlock Holmes - The Resident Patient.

Started a new sourdough starter tonight - hopefully by the weekend I'll be able to use it to make bread!

#studyblr #phdblr #phd student #to do list #bujoblr #strangeoldworlds

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finnofamerica · 4 years

Text

The Black & White - Dwalin x Reader

Summary: Everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. Additionally, when your soulmate dies, everything goes back to black and white.

Word count: 1,133

Date Posted: 05.19.2020

Note: A very special thanks to @saviorsong for helping me get over my dead brain. Please go over to her page and show her some love!

|| Masterlist ||

While Bilbo was away on his adventure, you kept a close eye on Bag End. Tending to the lawn and flowers, ensuring that his home was clean. The moment Bilbo returned home, he paid you a visit and thanked you for keeping his home in order.

You were quite the scheduled little Hobbit. Every Tuesday you had tea at four with Bilbo, and every Thursday you delivered the vegetables. Bilbo was quite useless at growing a lot of things, so you picked up the slack for your cousin’s cousin. You liked your routine and your cushy homey life, but you were a little envious of Bilbo’s stories of his adventures.

Dwalin loved Erebor, but in these past months of settling something was calling him back into the wild. Fond of the Hobbit, and knowing he’d have a place to rest, Dwalin made his way out of Erebor to Hobbiton.

He took in a deep breath as he reached a view of Hobbiton, the little hovels peaking out from the hills, the surrounding farmland bursting with colors. The neighbors gave him strange looks as he made his way up the familiar path to Bilbo’s. He tied his pony’s reigns to the fence, giving her a good pat, before heading up the narrow path in Bilbo’s yard. Following the advice he received so long ago, Dwalin didn’t bother knocking - just walking right in.

“Bilbo?” He called into the Hobbit home. Dwalin heard a scuffling of feet, then the Bilbo skidded into view.

“Dwalin.” Bilbo broke out into a smile. “Come, You’re just in time for tea.”

The old dwarf was happy to have a moment of rest, enjoy the company of the familiar little man.

Dwalin settled easily into the Hobbit’s home and when Thursday rolled around he was surprised to see you standing at the Hobbit’s door with a wheelbarrow full of vegetables.

“Oh, hello,” You tucked your hair behind your ear, watching as his eyes shifted from grey to blue. “Is Bilbo there?”

He grunted, stepping to the side when he heard the hobbit in question approaching.

“I have your vegetables, Bilbo,” You grinned, “I brought you extra squash.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” Bilbo grinned, “Would you like to come in for lunch?”

“Oh, I probably shouldn’t, seeing as you already have company.” Quite handsome company, you thought. Bilbo looked over his shoulder to see Dwalin keeping a careful eye on the conversation.

“Oh dear me, how rude. Y/n, this is Dwalin, and old friend from my journey.”

You gave Dwalin a smile and a shy wave. You were curious about the dwarf, and not just because you were seeing the world in brilliant color. Dwalin just gave you a nod, not letting on how his heart was thundering in his chest at your beauty. His dull world now in full bloom.

He was dumbfounded as he watched you walk away. After a long moment, he closed the door.

“Bilbo, who was that?” He asked.

“Y/n, my cousin of sorts, excellent farmer, even better baker. She’ll be coming around for tea on Tuesday.” Bilbo said though he’d never known the dwarf curious about others, at least not that he let on.

As promised you were back on Tuesday, sitting down for tea with Bilbo, Dwalin joining you shortly after.

“So, Bilbo, have I heard all your stories, or do you have a few more up your sleeve?” You asked, drizzling some golden dandelion honey in your lemon tea. Bilbo thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure, perhaps,” He frowned, “Did I tell you the one about the Elves?”

“The River elves or the Forest elves?”

“I suppose I’ve told you all them then.” Bilbo frowned. Noticing the disappointed look on your face, Dwalin cleared his throat and began diving in a story about his travels after Smaug’s siege on Erebor. His deep voice was soothing, but his story of the dangers he faced kept you on the edge of your seat.

The look in your eyes made it easier for Dwalin to tell the story. Your eyes watered at his pain and you smiled at his joy, hanging on to his words. In a way, you reminded him of when Fili, Kili, and Ori were younger.

That became Dwalin’s favorite part of the week in the few months he stayed there. You stopping by for tea at the same time every Tuesday. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he hadn’t prepared a story for you every week.

When you dropped off vegetables you’d stand on Bilbo’s front porch chatting with asking Dwalin your little questions about the mountain, and with each one, his heart ached more. He missed his home and his friends, but at the same time, he didn’t want to leave you.

“Dwalin, may I confess something?” You asked one Tuesday afternoon after Bilbo had left you alone with your tea to read one of his many books.

Dwalin nodded, his chest aching with anticipation and nerves.

“Since we met, my world has been so colorful - literally, not in the metaphorical sense. I guess I was wondering if maybe it was the same for you?” You ducked your head trying to cover the blush on your face. He loved the color.

“It is.” He said simply. Though it hurt his heart to admit as much, he knew he’d have to leave soon if he wanted to make it over the mountains before winter set in. Though he’d spend every moment he had with you until then.

You beamed at him, the relief in your eyes was overwhelming.

. . .

When the day finally came, he left early morning, stopping by your smial. Dwalin wasn’t normally a nervous man, but then again he was sailing into vastly uncharted waters. Finally, he knocked, the sound resonating through the little home.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, revealing you in your nightgown and robe.

“Dwalin?” You yawned rubbing your eyes, “What’re you doing here so early?”

“I’m heading back to the mountain, and - Mahal - I know I have no right to ask this but, I was wondering if you’d come with me?” His ears turning a soft red in the morning light. Your eyes widened as you registered what his question was.

“To Erebor?” You asked, not sure if you were hearing him right. He just nodded patiently awaiting your answer. You swallowed, this was your chance for an adventure. “I’ll pack.”

Dwalin let out a sigh of relief, breaking into a smile. Timflur would be able to handle the weight of both of you, she was a strong pony. You came out not too long later, a bag packed over your shoulder. You left a letter on your kitchen counter for Bilbo, and the Shire never saw you again.

Tags: @moony-artnstuff @lilith15000 @msjava1972 @fizzyxcustard @aspiring-ginger

#dwalin x reader #the hobbit x reader #finn writes #full length #soulmate au

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sophielovesbarnes · 4 years

Text

All or nothing, chapter three.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Winchester!reader

Warnings: Mention of death, fluff, drinking.

Author note: Took me a while to write this one, I had a horrible writer’s block, and yesterday I managed to break it.

I hope you enjoy the chapter, let me know if you want to be tagged.

Requests are open.

Gifs are not mine.

Masterlist

Chapter two

Chapter three.

Why the hell did you have to wait until the last minute to start cleaning? You mentally slap yourself and sigh before getting back to scrub the floor; you wanted to give Spencer a good image and for what you have learned so far, he is a neat person and likes very clean spaces, which is why you were in the middle of an intensive cleaning session.

You aren’t much of a messy person, but you are also in college, so there is unfolded laundry on the couch, empty food containers on the kitchen, dirty dishes in the sink, and shoes on the floor, and you have had a hell of a week, after meeting Spencer on Tuesday, you spent all night on the moon, then on Wednesday you had to spend all the afternoon doing homework, so now you had a lot of work to do, including packing to go back home after school on Friday.

“Come one Y/N, stop procrastinating and get to it.”

Three hours later the kitchen and the living room are spotless, your laundry is folded and stacked on your closet, there is nothing on the floor, your suitcases are ready and the lasagna is in the oven, and there is freshly baked garlic bread on the table.

You admire your work as you rub your wet hair with a towel, trying to absorb as much water possible so you can blow dry it, then you go back to your room so you can find something decent to wear in your closet, you end up choosing the blue summer dress Sam gave you for your birthday last year, you had been saving it for a special occasion and this was definitely one.

When you are ready you finish setting the table and at 6 o’clock on the dot your doorbell rings.

***

Spencer has changed a total of seven times in a lapse of fifteen minutes, he can’t remember the last time he felt this nervous.

He likes you, he really does, and it shouldn’t be possible to like someone this much in such a short span of time, but you are the most gorgeous girl he has ever been with, and you are also funny, and kind, and smart, and as hard as it seems you both share so many interests in common.

But at the same time you are like him you are also quite the opposite, you take him out and far away from his comfort zone, and it is both exciting and terrifying, but it makes his mind wander and worry, will he be enough for you? And if he is, if you manage to get into a relationship, how will you make it work? With him living 576 miles away from you, and you both having such different lifestyles.

He also has Maeve on mind, he couldn’t keep her safe, and he has seen the families and loved ones of his time getting in the crossfire, he saw it with Hotch, when Hayley got killed by Foyet, and he is terrified by the idea of something happening to you because of him.

He stops himself and tries to shake the shiver from his spine, he shouldn’t be worrying so much at this point, he brings himself back to the hotel room and stares at the mirror and finally decides what to wear, the blue sweater with the matching tie will do, he tries to tame his hair with his fingers and then he leaves his hotel room, he is lucky enough to have both Morgan and Rossi out so he won’t be asked to explain something he hasn’t finished understanding.

The address you gave him is quite close to the hotel he is staying in so he decides to walk, the city is nice and he can see why do you like it so much, sooner than he expected it he finds himself in front of the apartment complex that you indicated, he builds himself with courage and he rings the bell, the gate opens and he enters and calls the elevator on the fourth floor he gets down and knocks on your door.

When you open he is astonished, you look incredibly beautiful, you are wearing your hair down and curled, and the blue dress you are wearing hugs your body perfectly, and just like that he confirms one more time how much he likes you.

“Spencer! Hi, come on in.” He enters, closing the door behind him and you give him a smile.

“I-I got you these.” He gives you the bouquet of gerberas he bought in the way and he sees your eyes sparkle as you receive them.

“They are so pretty! Thank you.” You head to the sink, fill a vase with water and then you place the flowers on the kitchen bar. “Please take a seat, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Water is fine.” He answers admiring your house, it’s small and cozy and all the pictures on the walls make it feel like a home. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thank you, I owe it to Dean, like pretty much everything in my life.” The timer rings, giving you the cue to turn off the oven and take out the lasagna, you put on your gloves and take it, and then put it on the heat proof mat you had placed on the table. “I hope you are hungry.”

“Starving.” He replies with a soft smile.

You cut the lasagna and serve it on both of your plates, Spencer gives you a soft smile thanking you, you sit in front of him and raise your glass.

“To us.” He imitates your action and clinks his wine glass with yours. “Cheers.”

“Did you know that “Cheers” originated from the old French word chiere which meant “face” or “head.” By the 18th century, it meant “gladness,” and was used as a way of expressing encouragement.” He rambles. “And toasting is thought to come from sacrificial libations in which a sacred liquid was offered to the gods in exchange for a wish, or a prayer for health. It was Greek and Roman tradition to leave an offering to the gods, including alcoholic beverages, during celebrations and commonly after a death. In Greek mythology, the god of wine, Bacchus, was often toasted.”

“I did, and did you know that in Medieval times, glasses were clinked and people cheered loudly to ward off any demons or evil spirits? And that there are theories that say that it was done to avoid poisoning?” You reply, and he is fascinated to be able to talk with someone that is actually interested on this kind of facts and willing to talk about them with him.

You take a sip of your wine and smile at him, and he could swear his heart jumps every time you do it.

“Bon appetit.”

He takes the first bite and then looks at you with his eyes wide open.

“This is really good.”

“Thanks, it’s my mom’s recipe. She used to have a restaurant and people would make lines to try her food.”

“Are those your parents?” He asks pointing to the picture of your parent’s wedding, it was your favorite photograph of them, your mom looks beautiful in her white dress and she seems so happy and your dad is looking at her, and you can see the love in their eyes.

“Yeah.” You reply, nostalgia running through your veins.

“It’s a nice picture, do they live in Kansas as well?”

“No.” You take a deep breath and then continue. “They are gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it has been a long time.” You sigh and try to keep your emotions on the line. “They died in a car crash when I was eleven.”

“That’s why I owe Dean so much, when the accident happened Adam was already in college, but I was still little, and my aunt Sabine tried to take me back to Minnesota, but Dean wouldn’t have it, he filled to be my legal guardian and he went to trial against my aunt and he won, then he sold his bachelor’s apartment and bought a house for the both of us and he became both my mom and my dad.”

“He sounds like a great brother.”

“He is, I’m lucky to have him, and Sam and Adam, they are quite amazing.” You take the picture from your first competition and show it to him. “These are my brothers, Dean is carrying me, Sam is on the left and Adam is on the right.”

“You look really happy.” He comments.

“Yeah, I was, it was probably one of the best days of my life.” You reply, filled with joy of reliving the memory, the moment when your team was announced champion, the proud looks on your brothers’ eyes, the screams of excitement coming from your teammates, and the intense feeling of joy running through your veins. “It was my first all star competition, man, you should've seen Dean, he bragged about it for months.”

“For how long have you been a cheerleader?”

“I started with ballet and gymnastics when I was 3 and I joined the squad at my elementary school as soon as I got in.”

“What do you like about it?”

“Well, I love dancing and I love sharing joy, cheerleading lets me do both.”

“Are you planning to do it professionally?” He asks.

“I don’t think so, to be honest I think I would rather develop my career as a psychologist, I would also like to have a dance academy, but I think that would be an extra.” You take a small pause to admire the soft color of his eyes and then ask. “What about you? Did you always know that you wanted to be an FBI agent?”

“Not really, I knew that I wanted to help people but I wasn’t sure how, then when I was 22 I decided to join the FBI.”

“Have you ever considered doing anything else?”

“A part of me would like to teach, but I don’t think I do good in front of many people.”

“Well being honest, I loved hearing you.” You see his cheeks blush and he looks away for a moment.

“Thank you.”

You finish eating while doing small talk, you ask him about his career, his team, you see how enthusiastic he gets when he talks about them, when he tells you how they became his family.

He also tells you about his mom, about how she slowly deteriorated and how much it scares him to get sick like her. When he is speaking you place your hand on top of his, he gives you a small smile and then changes the subject.

“Tell me about your brothers.”

“Well, Dean’s the oldest, and he has always taken care of all of us, he is the most loving person I know. He taught me how to ride a bike and helped me to do my homework every day until highschool.

He is a mechanic, he has his own workshop where he does restorations on vintage cars, he was also a soldier, he enlisted after 9/11, that’s where he met Castiel, he was an army doctor, he crushed on him but he was already married to Lisa, and she was expecting Ben, my nephew, then he came back home but he and Lisa didn’t work together as a couple anymore, they tried to stay together for Ben, but they weren’t happy, so they got divorced and stayed as friends, then like fifteen years later Dean got in a small car accident and the doctor that got his case was Castiel, they started dating very little after that, and they got married three years ago, this year they adopted a little boy, Leo, he is the love of their lives.”

While you are talking Spencer looks at you with attention, and your hand never leaves his.

“Sam’s the smart one, he studied law at Stanford and he is now a junior partner on one of the biggest firms on Kansas, he is married with Jess, they have two daughters, Marie and Elizabeth, and Adam studied Mechanical Engineering at KU, he works on the workshop with Dean, and he is expecting a baby with Jo, who is basically my sister, they used to hate each other they were always jumping at the other’s neck, so it was definitely a surprise.”

“Do you miss living in Kansas?”

“Yeah, I do, sometimes I get very lonely here, I have friends and all but, it’s not the same as having my family here, that’s why I love vacations so much, because I can go back home and see them.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling.”

Talking to him is easy, when you are with him you don’t feel the need to keep your guard up, you feel like you can trust him with anything, when you talk he listens with attention, he actually listens, not like other boys you have met, that only wait for you to stop talking so they can focus the conversation on them, and when he talks you are fascinated, he is insanely smart and well educated, you have the most interesting conversation you have had in your entire life , and time seems to fade away, when you notice it, it’s already past midnight.

He helps you to clean, after you finish you walk him to the door, you are standing under the threshold when you both start to speak at the same time, you chuckle softly and then let him start.

“Thank you for having me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Then you stay in silence, and you allow yourself to get lost in his eyes, slowly you get closer to him, so close you can feel his soft breath over your mouth, he hesitates for a minute but then he places his hand on your waist and then you close the distance between your lips and his.

Kissing you has to be the most exhilarating feeling he has ever had, it is like his lips were meant to be in yours, you run your fingers through his hair and then he pulls you closer to him, making your chest rest on his, your lips move softly and in synchrony his his.

He wonders if you can feel his heart beating, because it seems like it may abandon his chest at any moment.

Every shadow of doubt fades away, at that very moment he makes the decision that he is not willing to let you slip away from him, he will fight to keep you next to him, he will do whatever it takes.

“Good night Doctor Reid.”

Tags: @that-aesthetic-wannabe

#spencer reid x winchester!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #reid x you #reid x reader #winchester!reader #winchester!sister #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 4 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where peter has some trouble sleeping and he goes to tony for help (irondad is best and I love how you write them)

A/N: I added a Read More break in this; I’m so sorry if it isn’t working on your Dash or in mobile.

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((WOW as per usual this took forever; I’m so sorry, and thank you for your patience!!!))

I can do that. As many of my IronDad fics are these days, this is set in a Post-Endgame Universe that ends the way we deserved it to. (Also thank you?? So much????) As per usual, I don’t know if this is what you envisioned, but here it is anyway. I hope you like it!

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A Week in the Life of an Overly Anxious Insomniac (a.k.a. Post-Finals Week)

Friday

Peter Parker crawls in through his bedroom window after the fullest week of his whole life. He’s just finished his Junior year of high school, meaning that his end-of-year finals are the roughest and toughest, and he’s barely made it through them unscathed. Peter’s an above average student for above average students, much less the general population, so he keeps up with his studies well, especially after Tony and May teamed up to implement some Big Brother-level safe guards to make sure he was held accountable for his allotted homework and Spider-Man hours.

The teenager pulls himself upright and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh emanating from his chest as he pulls off his Spider-Man suit. He glances at the clock; 1:30AM shines back silently at him, the one-time extended patrol hours Tony and May had allowed him in light of the end of the school year and successful exams.

Once he’s free of his enhanced spandex, Peter pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants and collapses onto his bed, his nose buried in his covers, but his eyes remain open. He stares languidly at a spot on his wall, likely food from his and Ned’s last sleepover.

The seconds tick past, soon turning into minutes, and then an hour has gone by, and somehow he’s still wide awake. He’s tried to drop off multiple times, but a prickling sensation across his back, like’s he’s being watched, keeps him from relaxing into sleep.

Peter sighs in frustration and takes out his phone, scrolling through countless ridiculous news articles until his body shuts itself off around 5AM.

Saturday

Peter awakes at 9:30AM and groans. At least it’s Saturday, so he can sleep more. He rolls over just in time for his phone to go wild where he’d discarded it beneath his bed earlier that morning. He gropes blindly for the device and clicks it on, sleepily scrolling through the barrage of messages in his group chat with Ned and MJ.

Ned: Expo day!

MJ: Expo day.

Ned: Peter!! EXPO DAY!

Ned: P

Ned: E

Ned: T

Ned: E

Ned: R

Ned: WAKE UP

Peter rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a grin as he types out his response.

Peter: I’m awake geez

It’s not even until 4PM

Ned: Yeah, but still. We have to make sure we have our itinerary down and the layout of the place just in case something ya know crazy happens.

Peter: Right yeah sure

MJ: I’m not wearing the matching t-shirts

Ned: Pleeeeeaaassse MJ!!!!!!!!

MJ: …..without something else over it

Ned: *peace fingers emoji*

MJ: why didn’t you just send the actual emoji

Ned: You have an IPhone. The emojis always show up differently.

MJ: Not that one, idiot

Ned: Oh whatEVER

Peter nearly drops his phone on his face, so he rolls to his side and types out a final message.

Peter: I’m hitting snooze. See you guys this afternoon.

Peter switches his phone to silent mode and lays an arm over his face. After a week of multiple all-nighters on top of a full patrol and 4 ½ hours of sleep last night (this morning, he corrects himself with a grunt), he just wants to sleep until he absolutely has to be up. He sends a quick wake-up call request to May before pulling his covers back over his head.

Peter, Ned, and MJ crash at Ned’s apartment around 12:30AM. The Expo (an invitation courtesy of Tony Stark, of course) had been incredible, showcasing the latest and greatest technology on the market and coming to the market, from Stark Industries to OsCorp and everything in between.

The trio reclines on the Leeds’ comfy sectional, Ned passing out as soon as his body hits the cushions. MJ is curled in a half doze in the crook of the couch, and Peter spreads along the unoccupied middle section, propped sidelong against the back. He stares at his crossed ankles as the TV plays quietly in the background. His vision swims in and out of focus, trying to let him fall into sleep, but something keeps pulling him back just as he’s on the brink, like fingers trailing across his back.

Peter knows no one else is in the room with him. He hears Ned and MJ’s separate, steady breathing on either side of him, but something about their presences, how strongly he can sense them, keeps him from falling out of consciousness. Their presence should be a comforting tether, but he finds it more restrictive now. He shakes his head minutely at the thought.

After about fifteen minutes, Peter sighs in defeat and positions himself to watch Nickelodeon’s late night programming, finally dropping off around 4AM.

Sunday

Sadly for Peter, Ned and MJ are both early risers; they stir around 7:30 but lay poking at their phones until 8. Peter tries to fall back to sleep, but MJ’s accusatory “faker” has him popping his eyes open to defend himself.

“I think I deserve it.” Peter grumbles while rubbing an eye. “My longest night of sleep all week was like 5 ½ hours. Maybe.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“That’s finals week.”

“I wish you’d told us, Peter.” Ned chimes in with a yawn. “We could have come home way earlier last night.”

“It’s fine.” Peter sighs and pushes himself up. “It was totally worth it. I’ll probably pass out tonight, so it’s fine.”

As if the universe loves proving him wrong, that evening once again finds Peter restless. He can’t seem to get comfortable in any position.

Left side.

Right side.

Back.

Stomach.

He even swaps his head to the foot of the bed and tries a diagonal position.

No dice.

He tenses up every muscle in his body and releases.

He keeps his eyes open for as long as he can without blinking.

He tries to force his breathing to become heavy and even.

Nothing.

His mind and body are exhausted, he can feel it, but they just refuse to shut off.

Peter pulls his pillow over his face and groans loudly.

Monday

Peter gets about 3 hours of sleep before May pokes her head in to ask for his help; she’s been on a minimalist kick lately and wants Peter to help her carry her donations to her car.

He smiles bitterly when he sees the black Sharpie scribbles on the outsides of the boxes:

Ben’s Clothes

Peter’s Toys

Wedding Pictures

Kitchen

Labels marked over and re-named Donations.

Peter’s eyes are suddenly watery, and he quickly deposits the boxes in May’s car before running a hand over his face.

May shoots him an inquisitive look but drops the issue, giving him a quick squeeze of a hug before thanking him and getting in her car. Peter waves as she leaves and sighs.

He could text Ned or MJ to go get coffee, but the walking distance just seems to far today.

He goes back upstairs and spends the day watching lame TV on the couch.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night.

Tuesday

Peter spends the whole day keeping busy. He organizes and cleans the apartment. He volunteers to walk his neighbors’ dogs. He goes for lunch with MJ and Ned and even sets out early as Spider-Man.

The evening hours come around, and he settles in with May on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. They keep score, Peter easily beating all of the contestants, and he begs May to stay with him and play with his hair as he puts on the most boring documentary he can find.

May acquiesces after studying him briefly, but she nods off after about half an hour, her hand resting in his hair.

Peter puts his hands over his face and swallows a sob, painfully, fully awake.

Wednesday

It’s starting to get to him, the lack of sleep.

He ignores May that morning when she calls to him to join her for french toast and fruit.

He tells Ned and MJ he can’t swing lunch that day though he has nothing planned.

He nearly cries when his phone lights up with his reminder that Tony Stark is back from his business trip, and again when said man sends him a message.

Tony: Hey, squirt. I’m back stateside. You free to come to the Lakehouse for a few days? Mo misses you.

Peter actually takes a few moments to consider before he catches himself. Not a good sign.

Peter: Yeah, I’m free. I’ll come tomorrow.

Thursday

Peter kisses May goodbye that morning with a promise of letting her know when he gets to the Cabin.

Happy comes for him around 10:30, and it’s after noon by the time they pull up to Tony Stark’s home away from home.

Morgan is on the porch the moment their car doors slam and is tackling Peter nearly to the ground before he can reach the trunk to get his bag. She squeezes the air from his lungs as she babbles excitedly about how they’re going to spend the next few days, her first days of summer vacation, together.

“Let him breathe, Monkey.”

Peter looks up to find Tony on the porch, metal arm on a post and flesh arm waving lightly. Peter ushers up a smile and a small wave in return before hoisting Morgan up into his arms. The teenager crosses to the porch stops before his mentor.

“Made it through another finals week, huh?”

“Barely.” Peter’s tone is more biting than he wants, and he hopes Tony didn’t notice. He’s definitely giving Peter a once-over now.

“Hap? Take Morgan inside, please?”

“Sure. Come here, Princess.”

“Uncle Happy, can I have cookies?”

“Don’t let her fool you, Hap; she’s already had her post-lunch snack.”

Morgan folds her arms and pouts as Happy chuckles and takes her inside.

“He didn’t say anything about juice pops-”

“Traitor.” Tony mumbles as Happy shuts the door behind them.

It’s quiet for a moment, the lake lapping at the shoreline barely audible as they look out and then at each other. Tony’s gaze stays on Peter, and the boy can’t help but look away.

“What’s up, kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your eyes are bloodshot. And last time I checked, Pep didn’t pop out a ten ton toddler, so Morgan shouldn’t be able to knock you over like that.”

“I was just playing with her.”

“Uh huh. Well,” Tony is clearly a bit peeved with Peter, but he drops the issue. “I assume you haven’t had lunch yet, so maybe some food in you will make you more talkative.”

“Thanks.”

“Turkey?”

“Perfect.”

Peter passes the afternoon between Tony and Morgan, the former occupying him with projects in his small workshop and the latter demanding to be occupied by him all over the property.

For all intents and purposes, he should be exhausted.

And yet 2:30AM finds him wide awake and near to breaking.

He’s laying on his side facing his clock, the red letters displaying “2:31AM.” He stares and stares and stares until he feels like the letters are bored into his brain. He closes his eyes, and they pop back open again like they’re on a spring.

Peter rolls into his back and stares at the dark patches on his ceiling, remnants of the knotholes that used to be, tensing and relaxing his gaze, squinting and releasing, rolling his eyes around in vain hopes of exhausting his eyes to closing with no luck.

He flips onto his left side with a huff and curls into the fetal position, hoping somehow he can trick his anxiety-ridden brain into believing he is safe and can sleep soundly. He’s in the middle of the woods of New York in what is likely the safest cabin in the entire world, and yet his body refuses to relax and let him sleep.

Peter slaps his comforter in frustration and bolts upright, his heartbeat drumming painfully in his chest and blood pumping in his ears. He swings his feet over the side of the bed, grabs his Midtown hoodie, and slides open the window; he sits on the edge for a moment or two before dropping silently to the ground. Slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket, Peter quietly follows the moonlit path to the dock; he stands there for a little while, tracing every shape and shadow the reflected glow will let him see, listening to every scuttle and shuffle in the trees and on the ground.

He wouldn’t pick out the light footsteps in any other circumstance, but their contrast to those he’s more familiar with sets him at ease.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” Peter chokes out as Pepper comes to stand beside him.

The woman is hugging her bathrobe to herself despite the warmth of the season, but she doesn’t seem agitated from what Peter can tell.

“You didn’t.” There’s an undercurrent of a scoff in her tone. “Overseas conference call. We had to meet on their terms.”

“That’s not fair.”

“We trade off.”

“Oh.”

They stand in silence for a few beats before Pepper sighs.

“He struggles with insomnia, too, you know.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Afghanistan. His heart. New York. That crazy Russian. Hammer. Ultron. Thanos. St-….Everything. I’d be amazed if he went through everything he has while maintaining a decent sleep schedule.” Pepper’s tone is a little hard, but Peter knows she doesn’t mean ill will toward him. She’s been with Tony through far longer than he has. She’s quiet for a few seconds before quietly adding, her tone lighter, “He called an Iron Man suit on me once.”

Peter sucks in a breath.

“I don’t think he meant to, but he had so much going on that he wasn’t dealing with already, and…we were going through a rough patch…The anxiety was eating him alive. Don’t tell him I told you all of that.” Her tone is more conspiratorial than regretful. “He’s never forgiven himself for it, but you should know. He deals with it, too. The anxiety. Feeling unsettled all the time.”

“There’s just…always something. I feel like can’t really rest.”

Pepper nods. “I don’t know the full scope of your abilities, but May’s told me about your…Peter Tingle?”

Peter cringes. “Spider Sense is what I prefer, but yeah. Maybe that’s related to all of this.”

“Probably.” Pepper is quiet for a moment. “You know…he would do whatever he needs to help. All you have to do is ask.”

“Okay.” Peter turns just a bit and gives her a tired smile. “Thanks, Pepper.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Pepper holds out an arm for him, and he gladly steps in to it.

Peter will always be secretly, selfishly thankful for how Morgan softened the Starks while he was gone, allowing him to fall in their never-ending streams of comfort that didn’t exist before he disappeared.

Peter feels a pull where Pepper’s hand rests on his shoulder, and he allows her to guide them back inside. He falls asleep an hour later.

Tony has multiple business calls the next day, so it’s mid-afternoon when Peter finally gets some alone time with his mentor-turned-father-figure. They’re sitting on a small pier Tony built over the lake, swinging on a bench swing Morgan insisted they needed after Pepper had one installed on the front porch months earlier. They’re seated on opposite ends of the swing, Peter’s feet propped between them as they gaze out over the water, each lost in their respective thoughts.

Peter taps Tony’s arm with his toes after a while, and the man scrunches up his nose in false disgust.

“The last thing I want on my arm, even lower on the totem pole than Morgan’s boogers, is stinky teenager feet.”

“I will have you know that I clean my feet quite well and quite regularly, my good sir.” Peter falls into a vaguely British accent, accentuating each of the last three words with its own individual toe tap to Tony’s arm.

“Disgusting. I’m tainted.” Tony rests his arm over the back of the swing. “So, I hear you and Pepper had a little late night stroll to the dock.”

“She told you?”

“FRIDAY did. She’s a bit of a tattletale.”

“She really is.”

“Woke me up and everything, and I was finally getting a good night’s sleep.”

Peter feels heat rise to his cheeks. “Sorry. Uh, and sorry you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Tony shrugs. “It happens. Especially when I go from being in the city, as we were in Bangladesh, to being back out here in the quiet. Hard to adjust sometimes. To relax fully.”

“Yeah.” Peter stares resolutely out at the lake.

“So, what were you and my wife chatting about at such an hour?”

“Just…business?”

“So you got up and took Pepper out to the dock to ask her about her business call?”

“Not exactly. I mean, it came up, but…I was out there first.”

“Oh, really? So she came out as a recon. mission, then?”

“I guess so.”

“Why were you out there in the middle of the night, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“….I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

Peter inhales through his nose. “Not sure. But it’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so.”

Peter looks through the corners of his eyes and finds Tony studying him before the man decides to stand, stretching and popping his back as he does so.

“Care for a walk around the lake?”

Peter collapses onto the couch when they return, staring through the windows to the side porch and watching Tony and Pepper prepare dinner together on the outside grill.

Morgan is hunched over at his feet, scribbling furiously in her current favorite coloring book.

“Whatchya doodling, Moomoo?”

“A cat.” Morgan holds up a good-sized image of what is now an orange tabby.

“Looks good.”

“Thanks.” The little one goes back to her coloring, more quietly this time, and Peter settles back against the arm of the couch. He stares at the ceiling, willing himself to relax if it means he can even get a nap in before dinner, but his body just won’t have it. He can hear his heartbeat. Morgan’s heartbeat. Every mechanical and electrical noise in the house goes in and out of focus as he just lays there, trying not to show his frustration and upset Morgan.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony pokes his head in and nearly makes the teen jump. “Can you grab the meat out of the fridge?”

“Yeah.” Peter sits up slowly and stands, feeling Tony’s eyes on him as he crosses to the kitchen. “Sh-oot.” Peter catches himself just in time after his toe has a gnarly collision with a dining table leg. “Missed that somehow…” He grumbles as he pulls the food out of the freezer and brings it back to Tony. Peter just catches the man’s critical gaze before it snaps into easy speculation.

“Thanks, bud.” Tony claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and they go out together, Peter’s hopes of relief forgotten as the afternoon melts into evening.

It’s the same old story, and one he is so tired of re-living.

Peter full on glares at the ceiling as his heart pounds in his chest, refusing to slow down no matter how he tries to force out slow, even breaths. He clenches his eyes shut but the frustrated tears have already bloomed there and spilled over his cheeks, drawing twin lines down over his temples and pooling on his pillow. He swipes a hand over his face and sniffs hard, rolling onto his side to glare at the clock now.

3:33am.

The witching hour. Or at least that’s what MJ calls it. It definitely feels like he’s being hexed right now as his eyes seem to remain open of their own accord, in spite of all of his efforts to get them to comply with the exhaustion in his limbs, his bones.

“Why the hell can’t I sleep?” He mouths silently at the glowing numbers, the frustration spilling over again, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away this time. He doesn’t cry all that often, really, not when he’s mad, at least, but night after night of not sleeping enough, especially after exerting himself so much, has worn him thin, and crying is all he can do to keep from screaming, stomping, hurling and throwing things. He’s past the point of being upset with his insomnia and reached the point of searing anger, at himself for not being able to overcome this obstacle and whatever power has placed this plague on him. He grits his teeth until his jaw aches, and he nearly cracks a tooth when an owl sees fit to chime in on his thoughts from outside his window.

Peter pushes himself up and gazes toward his window, the scene from last night playing through his mind in a strange 3rd person point-of-view, as if he is FRIDAY watching him from the house instead of himself experiencing it. Something Pepper said pokes at his consciousness, and he frowns.

You know…he would do whatever he needs to help. All you have to do is ask.

All you have to do is ask.

Peter stares intently at the window for a moment, contemplating before he finally sighs deeply and throws his covers off. As much as he hates to put anything else on the man’s plate, Peter knows that Tony will understand his plight; plus, he’s been eyeing Peter ever since he arrived, so the teen figures it’s more merciful to put the man out of his miserable curiosity.

Peter stops outside of Tony and Pepper’s door, listening for a moment and frowning when he only hears one person breathing and snoring softly. Definitely not Tony. He quietly pads to Morgan’s door and listens, only hearing the even lighter breathing of the little girl, and his brows crease.

Peter heads toward the stairs and picks up the faint light shining from downstairs; he quietly mounts them and steps down to the ground floor, absorbing Tony sitting on the couch with a book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. It’s so domestic that it brings the tears back to Peter’s eyes, the idea of Tony finally being this relaxed and at home somewhere pulling at something deep in Peter’s core.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Tony’s voice startles Peter, the silence Peter hadn’t realized he’d settled in to shattered, and now the air holds an expectation of being filled with vibrating waves that Peter isn’t sure he’s ready to relinquish. The idea of finally confiding in Tony had seemed palpable when he was upstairs, alone and breaking anyway, but now that he’s here and sees Tony, thinks back to everything he’s been through, Peter suddenly feels selfish and silly.

“Quit overthinking. Come sit with me.”

Peter’s gaze snaps from the window to which it’s wandered and back to his mentor. Tony has put down the book and tea by now and is watching him intently but not oppressively; there’s no scrutiny in his eyes or demand in his body language, just an open invitation.

Peter crosses the room stiffly and sits beside Tony, staring ahead and body refusing to relax right away.

“Geez, you’re wound up tight. Come here.” Tony beckons Peter toward him, and the teen stares.

“What?”

“I’m gonna rub your shoulders, kid. Don’t make it weird.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Unless you’re genuinely uncomfortable with it, then I won’t.”

“No, it’s okay….I’m just….getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To you being all…”

“Domestic?”

“Exactly.”

Tony snorts.

“That’s like, the one benefit of disappearing for five years.”

Tony clenches his jaw, and Peter sighs through his nose. It’s always too soon for Tony.

“Sorry…I just mean…You had a kid while I was gone. You got all paternal and stuff, and now I get to reap the benefits of that, I guess.”

“Yeah, we’re definitely more touchy feely than before, huh?”

“I just figured that was because you missed me.” Peter smiles a bit, mischief tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I did, kid. So much.”

Peter’s smile falls to neutrality. “I know. I….I guess I missed you, too. I don’t remember much.”

“Hopefully we’ll keep it that way.” Tony mumbles. “So, shoulder rub?”

Peter considers for a moment. “Sure, why not.” He scoots closer to Tony, and the man’s warm hand on his tense neck and shoulder muscles immediately help him relax just a fraction.

“Geez, kid; you been working out these muscle groups or have you been that tense over finals?”

Peter blinks. “You know, now that you mention it, I guess I have been pretty tense over the last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah? You think that’s causing your sleeping problems?”

“How did you know about that?”

“This is the second night in a row that you’re awake with a Stark parent in the dead of night in one of the safest places in the world. Call it a hunch.”

Peter lets out an involuntary snort. “Yeah…It’s been a solid two weeks since I got a good night of sleep.”

“Two Fridays ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Did you procrastinate? Too many Spidey hours?”

“No, no, I was ready just…nervous I guess. Not sure why. I guess because I had a lot of tough academic classes this semester. There’s just kind of an air of tension, you know? Even if I feel okay, if everyone else is stressed out, I just kind of pick up on that. I guess it’s my senses.”

“That makes sense.”

“And sometimes I tend to just….hang on to that tension even after the school year is over, you know? After I took my first AP Exam, I had three separate dreams that I was taking the exam over again. It’s like a high that I can’t come down from or something.”

“Mmm.” Tony hums his attention while giving special care to a particularly tough knot near the base of Peter’s neck. “Geez, kid, we really have to work on your posture. No more studying in bed.”

“Oh, yeah, May told me not to do that.”

“Wait, did you actually study in bed?”

“…..Yeah.”

“Pete. Kid. You’re too smart for this. Seriously, you should only sleep in your bed. Anything else encourages you to be awake in that space.”

“When did you become an expert on this stuff?”

“When I became a workaholic and was doing work in the comfort of my bed that I couldn’t ever sleep in because my mind was always buzzing with work to be done.”

“Oh….ah!” Peter flinches as Tony pushes his metal thumb against the aforementioned knot.

“Sorry, bud. This one’s a booger.”

Peter squirms uncomfortably as Tony presses on the tough spot in his back, sucking in a harsh breath when the man ups the pressure but sagging in relief when he eases off.

“Anything else bothering you?” Tony prompts quietly as he places his flesh hand over the base of Peter’s neck to massage the top of his spine.

Peter nearly groans as Tony works at the new spot of tension he’s found. “….No, not really.”

“You hesitated.”

“So?” There’s more discomfort than bite in Peter’s tone.

“You’re not exactly one to choose your words carefully, Pete.” Tony’s lowers his voice and evens out his tone as much as he can. “You speed through every conversation like that ugly blue hedgehog thing.”

“Sonic.”

“Sure,” Tony shrugs. “But we were talking about you hesitating.”

“You were, really.”

“Sure, I was, but it really is one of your tells for when you’re not being totally honest with me.”

“Since when do you pay so much attention to me?” Peter’s nostrils flare just a bit after the fact.

“Ooo so that’s it, then? Feeling neglected by your mentor-slash-idol?” Tony has laced jest into his tone to compensate for the pinched brows Peter cannot see. He knows Peter looks up to him as a father figure, especially considering all they’ve been through together, and icy guilt stabs through him as he thinks of Peter missing him and longing for his re-assurance in these last days of the semester. “You know I’m always a video call away, buddy.”

“I know….” Peter winces, and Tony apologizes quietly. “…but you’re busy.”

“I’m retired, kid. Not a superhero anymore, remember? And Pepper and her people run Stark Industries.”

“You were just in Wakanda for two weeks.”

“That was…a friendly visit, we’ll call it.” Tony pats Peter’s back lightly and reclines against the couch cushions. “That’s all I can do for now, kiddo. Hand’s too tired.”

“Thanks.” Peter rolls his shoulders and settles back, too, distanced from Tony at the other end of the couch.

“Seriously, though.” Tony levels Peter with a gaze, and the teen can’t look away. “Anything you need, any time, Peter. I’m here for you. I didn’t invent time travel to get you back and pawn you off on May again.”

Peter nods, his face unreadable as he continues to stare at Tony like an animal deciding if he’s trustworthy or not.

“C’mere, squirt.” Tony holds out an arm and blinks when Peter hesitates before crawling into his partial embrace. The man sighs and leans his head back, tracing the barely visible grooves in the wood paneled ceiling. “Do you remember the last time we sat like this?”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes, smartass, but I was thinking more about the hour. The last time we were both up at 3am.”

Peter considers for a moment, following Tony’s gaze before realization seems to strike him; his eyes widen a fraction before falling to the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah.”

Tony squeezes Peter’s shoulder.

“We didn’t do a lot this year. We were both too busy on the day of to go to his grave.”

“Does that bother you?”

“A little…but it’s not like he knows. And…I don’t know if we really wanted to this year, you know? With everything that’s happened, death is just such a weird thing to think about right now.”

“That makes sense.”

Peter’s breath catches just a bit. “She gave some of his stuff away the other day. She asked me to help her carry it out to her car, and she didn’t even…acknowledge it or whatever.”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

Peter is lost in thought for a few moments. “Well, I think so, anyway. She had donation boxes, and they were taped up, but the side was marked, ‘Ben’s Clothes’ and ‘Wedding Pictures.’ I never saw inside, so I don’t know for sure. And like I said, she didn’t say anything, which is weird for her, honestly, so maybe she was just using the boxes.”

“You could ask her.”

“I don’t think so. That would probably upset her…Besides, I doubt she actually did get rid of them, but something about loading all of that stuff into her car just…it felt like the day I first came to them, or when we moved after the blip. So much transition, and the thought of transitioning past Ben on top of how much I haven’t been sleeping was just…”

“The straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Exactly.” Peter’s voice is thin and quiet, wispy like a passing breeze, strained like a taut muscle, and weighted with meaning like a fierce whisper.

Tony is rubbing his hand over Peter’s shoulder and pretends not to notice when Peter rubs his hand over his eyes. He does notice the second time, though, and laughs a bit when Peter lets out a loud yawn. “You sleepy now?”

“Yeah. I could sleep for days.”

“Do that. I’ll keep Momo occupied tomorrow-” Tony snorts. “Today. Sleep as long as you need to.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Peter smiles tiredly and leans his head against Tony’s shoulder; he stares blankly at the fireplace until his eyelids begin to droop.

“Oh, no. I can’t sleep here tonight; my back is too bad for that.” Tony roughly rubs Peter’s shoulder before shifting to get up.

Peter grunts and pouts, slouching into the couch.

“You can’t, either. Morgan won’t let you sleep if you’re down here.”

“True…” Peter rises with him.

“Hey, if this sleepless stuff persists, I’ll get some of the stuff we gave Steve when he was fighting insomnia after-….some stuff happened.”

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem at all, bud.”

They climb the stairs in silence, pad down the hall and turn to face each other when they reach their respective doors.

“Night, Pete.” Tony whispers, hand on his doorknob.

“Night, Tony.” Peter lingers for just a moment as Tony goes into his room.

The man turns to close his door but stops when he catches Peter still waiting. His brows crease, and he moves to come back out, but Peter shakes his head and looks at the floor shyly, before waving for Tony to go. Tony considers Peter for a moment, squinting at the kid before he sighs silently and nods, closing the door all the way.

Peter sighs and goes into his own room, closing the door silently behind him before he crawls into bed and falls into a dead sleep until that afternoon.

(Tony only slightly regrets promising to entertain Morgan on 4 hours of sleep.)

#irondad #irondadfic #irondadfanfic #spiderson #spidersonfic #mine #spiderbabyfanfics #mcufic

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thatfanficstuff · 4 years

Text

The Light in my Darkness - 22

Pairing: Clint x Reader ???

Warning/Note: Still angsty and shit.

***

The thing about loving someone was the pain that so often came with it. You knew from the beginning that this agreement with Clint was a risky proposition. That there was the chance it would all go to hell and you’d be left picking up the pieces of your heart. What you didn’t realize was just how deep that pain would go. Your chest ached with the loss of him. This wasn’t heartbreak, this was pure devastation. He had become such a part of you that his absence was a physical thing you felt deep in your soul.

God, it hurt. You laid on the floor of your studio for hours and wept. The coolness of the wood beneath you seeped through your clothes and your skin grew tight with dried tears, but still you cried. Grieving for the loss of the man you loved and for the love you were so certain he’d felt for you even if only for a moment.

Eventually the tears stopped but you remained curled up on the floor not willing to move just yet. You ran your eyes around the room taking in the photos that lined the wall, the sketches you’d drawn, the paintings you’d created. You hadn’t been wrong. He loved you. The proof was all around you. And nowhere could it be seen more clearly than the photographs still in your computer.

You sat up with a sniff and ran the sleeve of your shirt over your face to wipe away some of the tears. You reached up and pulled your laptop from the counter where you’d sat it when you’d first entered the studio. After firing it up, you went immediately to your photos to scroll through them again. The images that had brought you such joy earlier now only served to hurt you more. You took a deep, stuttering breath, trying to center yourself.

You opened one of the images in your graphics program and, after making a couple of tweaks, sent it as an attachment to Steve. The email you sent with it was lengthy and detailed and perhaps a little rambly but he responded almost immediately. He loved every rambling thought you’d typed out.

This was it. This is what you had been missing. That central theme Steve wanted your show to have. Love. Loss. Him.

***

Clint woke the next afternoon with a dry mouth and throbbing head. He might have had a drink or five too many after returning home from your apartment. How had everything gone so colossally fucking wrong in such a short period of time? He’d taken the day off intending to spend it in bed with you. Well, your plan had been to do some prep work for Thanksgiving the next day, but that wasn’t what had been on his agenda at all. Shit. Thanksgiving. At least it was only supposed to be the two of you and Wanda. His girl wouldn’t give a shit what her old man whipped up for the holiday. If she even showed. She would probably be too pissed at him to even come.

And he deserved it. He knew he did. He should have stayed well the fuck away from Y/N and continued to admire you from afar. Instead, he’d just had to have a taste. He had just wanted to know for a moment what it would be like for you to be his. God, he was an idiot.

Natasha was right. This had been different from the beginning. Hell, if he was honest, he’d been in love with you before he ever had Loki write up the damn contract. But you were supposed to be stronger than him. Than all of this mess he was now in the middle of.

You weren’t supposed to fall in love with an old man like him. And as much as he wanted to toss all of his worries and concerns aside, he couldn’t. He already knew what would happen if he did. He’d become even more tangled up with you. Until he couldn’t function—couldn’t live—without you.

And then you’d realize that behind the success, behind the money, he was nothing. That deep down he was still that dirt poor soldier with nothing more than a good aim. And he wasn’t sure he could survive that look in your eye when it happened. That utter disappointment and regret. Not from you.

He swung his feet off the bed and sat up with a groan. He dropped his head into his hands and tugged at the strands of his hair. He’d lived his life the way he had for years to avoid this bone numbing ache that settled deep in the core of him. He sucked in a breath and released it in a sob. He was so, so broken without you. But if he let himself love you, let himself live the life he so desperately wanted, it would end him when you finally left.

***

Clint was more than a little surprised when Wanda showed up late the next morning. His head was buried in the fridge trying to decide what to make when her happy hello announced her arrival via the kitchen door. He straightened with a jerk, his eyes finding her immediately and taking in her happy expression.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said hesitantly. Surely, you had called her. Texted. Something. She was your best friend.

Wanda frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” She looked around. “Where’s Y/N?”

Clint groaned and let his forehead fall against the fridge.

“What did you do?”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, otherwise not moving. “Who says I did anything? Maybe she did something.”

She placed her fists on her hips and stared him down, waiting for him to break, to admit what he’d done.

With a sigh, he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer before sitting at the table. “Things just didn’t work out, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. Go fix it.” She stomped her foot and for just a moment, Clint had a flash of the girl she used to be.

“I’m sorry. I know she’s your friend, but there’s no reason that has to change.” He meant the words. He really did, but he also knew that there would be no more casual swims at his house or holiday dinners together.

“Why did you start this if you weren’t going to see it through? Why her?”

“Come on, Wanda. You know you can’t predict how a relationship is going to turn out. You just jump in and hope for the best. Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t.” He leaned back in his seat and ran his thumbnail along the edge of the label on his bottle.

She dropped into a chair across from him. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know you didn’t care about any of those women that you went out with. That’s why I thought this would be different. I thought maybe you were finally ready to give yourself a chance to be happy.”

Clint wasn’t surprised to hear that she’d figured him out a long time ago. She was always smarter than him anyway. He kept his eyes glued to the bottle in his hand.

“You are allowed to be happy, Dad. You know that, right?”

His gaze found hers but still, he said nothing.

After the silence stretched for too long, she sighed and got back to her feet. “As much as I love you, I’m not going to let my best friend spend the day alone. Especially when it’s your fault.”

He nodded to let her know he heard and watched her walk to the door.

She stopped in the doorway to look back at him. “By the way, you look like shit.” With that she left, slamming the door behind her.

***

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice called surprising you. She had apparently let herself in with the key you’d given her. You hadn’t been expecting her to just show up.

“Back here,” you called back and returned to your project.

“What are you…” her voice trailed off as she stepped into the doorway. She sucked in a breath and the corner of your mouth kicked up in a smile. “You’ve been busy.”

You hummed in agreement but didn’t quit working.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked in an attempt to dodge her question.

“Besides the fact that I know what happened? Well, sort of.” She stepped into the room and walked over to the large canvas you’d finished earlier. “If I’m not mistaken this is a hand crushing a heart made of love poems.”

You glanced at her. “Don’t you like it?”

She blinked at you and you grinned before turning back to your current piece.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s really the point here, Y/N/N.”

You didn’t respond as you kept painting.

Wanda stepped closer to you. “How long have you been working like this?”

“Since he left.” Your voice broke a little and you reached over to grab your coffee from the counter. A long swallow of the lukewarm brew and you leaned on the counter to look at your friend.

Her worried gaze ran over you taking in your paint spattered appearance. “And when was that?”

You scrunched your nose in thought before shaking your head. “When I came back from the photo lab.”

She tilted her head and her gaze sharpened. “Tuesday?”

You took another sip of the coffee and nodded.

“That was two days ago. Have you slept at all?”

You ran a hand down your face. Of course, you hadn’t slept. You were too afraid you’d see him in your dreams.

“Have you eaten?”

“Sure.” You’d had a bowl of cereal sometime the day before and enough coffee to keep you fueled for days.

Wanda plucked the paintbrush from your hand before pushing you toward the door. “Go get in the shower. I’ll make you something to eat.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her that you had work to do but she was right. You needed food and rest and you weren’t going to get either until you were clean. You stumbled into the shower and started to scrub rich, blue paint from your hands.

By the time Wanda appeared in your room ten minutes later, you were already curled up on your bed sound asleep.

#clint barton x reader #hawkeye x reader #jeremy renner x reader #sugar daddy au #avengers fanfiction #series #the light in my darkness

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rainbows-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Our Nightmare (Chapter 5)

Summary:

Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends, where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

–

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

–

On a Tuesday morning, Sally sits herself by a window to practice her knitting while letting in fresh air. It is a beautiful time to look outside, as the pumpkin sun lightly warms her skin as she listens to the sounds of children playing from below. Every time she glances up from her work, she can see the town and its people in clear daylight. Not such a horrendous day by Halloween Town's standards, but she finds it relaxing, nonetheless.

Halfway into her work, the front doors of the manor open. She turns her head and finds Jack coming through the doorway. He promptly sets the papers he's holding aside when he finds her in the room. He smiles and gets closer to see what she is doing. She lets him see the scarf she is currently working on. It was yellow in color - the only yarn she could find at the moment.

"Prepping for winter already?" He asks. She glances down and shrugs.

"Just practicing, for now."

He leans down to kiss the top of her head, moving around her to sit down in his chair. He starts to work, setting some papers on a table and beginning to scribble on them using the end of a feather dipped in ink. She pays no mind as she tends to her scarf, humming as the movements become easier. The two of them relax in this peaceful moment - working together in close proximity, with nothing interrupting them.

Sally sighs in delight. Everything about this feels right.

Her gaze soon comes down back to the streets of Halloween Town. She finds a batch of familiar, blonde hair within the crowds. Her body stiffens as she recognizes the figure. They're working their way down to the market, with a basket held in the crook of their arm. Sally's eyes follow the woman as she disappears into one of the shops. She starts to lose focus with her knitting, and has to set down her work on the window sill.

Jewel.

It has been over a week since the deadly nightshade incident happened. Jack's consolation eased her from the memory of the ordeal, making it not cross her mind again until now. Things have gone so peacefully from then. She hadn't any reason to remember it. She was getting more comfortable adjusting to her life here - even if that meant taking certain precautions, like moving the deadly nightshade jar out of the kitchen and ensuring all the cleaning supplies were left in their rightful closet. This gave her more room to focus on other things, like practicing sewing and knitting again, even taking up a new book in her free time.

But, now, seeing the Doctor's new creation again makes Sally remember it all. What exactly happened over a week ago, and everything that led to it. No matter how happy she seems now, this will always linger in her memory. Any small thing that can remind her of what the Doctor did to her - it will haunt her for mind for hours, and possibly her whole death. She curls her fingers in her lap in thought. This part of the manor isn't facing Finklestein's tower, but she doesn't need to see it to think of it. She takes a deep breath as she finds herself strangely calm - making a bold decision in these few seconds.

She turns to the skeleton man behind her, who glances up from his work. "I think I'm ready."

---

The walk to Dr. Finklestein's tower feels much longer than she remembers.

Jack was confused when Sally virtually brought this up out of nowhere, but he was very supportive regardless. He asked if she was sure she was ready to make this decision, and after much thought and consideration, she insisted she was. The Pumpkin King quietly takes them on the longer route to ensure they won't be appearing too soon. He can tell she needs some time to work up some encouragement, and there is also the fact he hadn't called the Doctor to inform them they were coming in the first place. He hopes they'll be there to answer once they've arrived.

The two of them find the sight of his tower coming into view. When the gates are only a few feet away, his girlfriend suddenly stops in her tracks. She looks back at him and plays with her fingers, looking at the ground nervously.

"Jack?" She asks quietly. "Can you give me one of those pep talks, again? The ones you're really good at?"

He places a hand on her shoulder and grips it softly. "You don't have to be afraid of him. You don't even have to listen to him anymore. This is about what you want, not him."

She places her hand over his and holds it for a few seconds. She still looks conflicted. "...You really think I can tell him?"

"You're one of the most assertive people I know, Sally. I know you have confidence. Don't let him think you don't. You have every right to do what you're doing; asking for what you want. And if all else fails, we'll leave and we won't come back."

She sighs in relief. "Thank you...." Her eyes turn teary. "I'm so glad you're here. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

He cups her cheek and leans forward to kiss her. He tells her, "I'm always going to be by your side, now and forever."

She coos.

They go through the gates and he assists her up the stairs. Her gut starts to ache with how familiar this feels. Once they're on top, Jack rings the doorbell. They wait a few seconds before hearing Finklestein's voice from the other side. It gives her unpleasant chills. The doorknob suddenly twists open. They come face-to-face with Jewel, whose gray eyes blink in surprise. There is a small moment of silence - neither of them sure on what to say. Jack opens his mouth to greet her while the ragdoll continues to fiddle with her fingers in the background.

"Good afternoon! I hope you excuse our sudden visit - but we're here to see the Doctor?"

Jewel smiles in glee and holds her hands together, stepping aside and motioning forward. "Oh, please, do come in!"

They go to help themselves inside, but Sally is hesitant to bring herself in. She is encouraged forward with a skeletal hand on her back, allowing him to lead her inside. They are brought onto a couch in the sitting room, which she finds has more wilted flowers than usual. The taller figure watches the two of them get comfortable and gives a warm smile.

"I'll let him know you're here! I'm sure he'd love to see the both of you."

Sally holds up a hand quickly. "-Actually, I wanted to talk to him...Jack is just here for support."

"Oh! Well, I'll let him know that right away."

Jewel hurries out of the room and towards the laboratory. In this time, the situation starts to settle in. Just seeing these familiar walls she had been stuck in not so long ago, and the ramp she's had to sneak down so many times...her hand desperately finds its way for Jack's. He can feel her squeezing it tightly once it's in her grasp. He squeezes back gently and brings a hand through her hair, looking at her in concern.

She's getting worked up again.

"Are you sure you're ready for this..? It is quite soon you're talking to him again-"

"I know I'm ready." She gestures vaguely around them. "I just...don't like seeing all of this again..."

He looks up and realizes she means the tower they're in. He can only imagine all of the unpleasant memories surfacing for her. He truly does sympathize with her - it can't be easy walking into the same home she was practically trapped in, and asking for a new relationship with the one who imprisoned her. He can only hope the Doctor is willing to listen and become a little more sensible about this. He seemed decent enough when he asked if she could move in with him...

He goes to console her, but is interrupted by various noises coming from the hallway. The familiar sound of a wheelchair makes Sally sit up in her seat right away. A second after, Dr. Finklestein emerges into the room with Jewel by his side. He must have been in the middle of an experiment, judging by the pair of goggles sitting on his head and his unusual pleasant mood. His expression doesn't change when he sees Jack, but the moment his gaze goes on Sally, the smile on his lips begins to fall. The same can be seen on her face - a troubled look growing on her features.

Things are silent for a few minutes.

"You really are back." He says in astonishment. She nods slowly.

"I am."

The skeleton offers to help her stand, and she takes his hand before slowly walking to the Doctor. Her movements feel tense as she stands before him. She inhales deeply to steady herself. Now she can't be afraid of him. She is her own person. Someone he can't control anymore.

"I want to talk with you alone. About some things." She says confidently. She momentarily fears for his reaction, but is surprised when Finklestein takes the goggles off his head and nods.

"Alright, my girl. We can go ahead and do that."

He starts to lead her back towards the hallway. She takes one last look behind her shoulder and finds Jack smiling at her encouragingly. It's the last thing she sees, and gives her a last boost of confidence before disappearing behind the frame. This leaves the Pumpkin King alone with the Doctor's new creation - who is still standing idly in the room. He opens his mouth to politely break the ice, but she beats him to it.

"Would you like some tea?"

Things are completely silent during their short walk into another room. She keeps her distance from him as they sit down at a table, ensuring her chair is as far from him as it respectably can be. It's nerve-wracking to be alone with him like this...without Jack to be right by her side, to speak for her and protect her. 'I'm becoming independent now,' She reminds herself. 'He can't do everything for me. He's already done so much...'

Finklestein breaks the silence by clearing his throat. "Now, what is it that brought you back here..?"

She taps her fingers together. How can she put this without being abrupt? "I've been thinking about some things while living with Jack, and there's something I need to take care of."

"And this involves speaking with me..?"

"It does." She lets herself sigh. Time to get answers. "Doctor, I just wanted to know...what is it like, living without me?"

He adjusts his glasses. "Do you want me to be truthful with you, Sally?"

"Yes. That's what I'm here for."

He pauses for a long time. Almost like he doesn't want to say. "...Frankly, I thought it would be much better than it is. I don't have to constantly worry about Jewel sneaking out or poisoning my meals. She seems happy living here, which is not something I could ever say for you." She looks down at this. "-Regardless, I still find myself...missing you, I suppose. Thinking about you from time-to-time."

"But you wanted me out." She brings up.

He nods solemnly. "Yes, that is true...which is why I'm baffled to feel this way. You were nothing but trouble. But Jewel can't quite make meals like you could. And she's not as experienced with cleaning as you are."

"-Is that why you're thinking about me? Because my chores aren't done the same?"

He goes quiet. Her lips fall into a frown. Of course he would only miss the things she did, instead of for her. She hadn't expected him to change at all...She has to remind herself of Jack's words. That she's only here to assert herself and what she wants. She may as well get it out of the way now.

"I'm going to get to the point." She says quickly. "Doctor, you were cruel to me and I hated it here. All we did was fight and yell at each other. You said some terrible things to me, and the things you've done...they haunt me, still. And not in a pleasant way." She begins shaking in her seat and has to rub her arms to keep her composure. "-I was so scared when I lived here. All I wanted to do was get away from you. At times, I thought I hated you..."

"-I deserve that."

She blinks a few times before looking at him. He's hanging his head low, averting his gaze.

"Sally, I'm sorry. For everything I had done to you and the things I said. This wouldn't have occurred to me if you hadn't said it countless of times before. But like the stubborn old man I am, I just didn't listen." He shakes his large head. "Living without you has opened my eyes to a few things, besides what you did here. Jewel is nothing like you. I thought what I needed was someone who understood me, and so I gave a part of myself to her. I've never felt so happy."

The ragdoll remains quiet.

"I already lost you. I knew that could happen again if I repeated the things I did from before." He begins to fidget with his hands in his lap. "So I've taken good care of Jewel, the best that I can in my state...I've found that by listening to her, she feels obligated to speak with me more. We have so many conversations. More than I've ever had with you, as of matter of fact. The biggest challenge was letting her go off on her own. I let her visit the town today, hoping that she would return to me...and she did."

Finklestein finally brings his attention to her. They make eye contact for a second, and he can sense the sorrow in her eyes. He holds his breath. "What I'm trying to say, my girl, is - Jewel is teaching me to be better. She may not be aware of it, but...things are different than they were with you. I know this is something I should have done while you were around....and I'm sorry."

Hearing all of this makes Sally feel conflicted. On one hand, she feels...happy to hear a proper apology, and that he's treating Jewel differently. But, on the other hand, does he even know all the things he had done that were wrong? For these past few years, he always insisted he was in the right...the last thing she wants is for him to get away with what she has to live with.

"I forgive you...but I want you to listen to me. This time, and every other time we speak from now on." He is surprised at the authority she's displaying, but goes along with it anyway. "-I want to tell you the things that made me want to leave you. So you don't make the same mistakes with Jewel. I may not know her that well, but I care about her being safe here..."

"If you think that's necessary..."

She takes a deep breath. "You did a lot of things to me that were cruel and violent. The times you locked me in my room for days on end, when you refused to let me go outside at all, never letting me have my own interests, and threatening to 'fix' me by replacing my brain..." He looks uncomfortable. "-Those are only a few out of everything that's happened..."

"Yes, I remember them."

"If you want to be better for Jewel, then keep letting her go outside. Let her get interested in Halloween, or whatever other things she's going to like. Don't make her think there's something wrong with her that needs to be 'fixed'...because all of those things made me want to leave you."

"....I see."

There's another moment of silence as he takes all of this in. For Sally, she feels cold. Reliving these memories and having to tell them to the man responsible for them...and, yet, she's forgiven him. Simply because he's telling her that he wants to be better. A part of her feels gullible for believing this. He's never bothered to change even though he's made so many promises to her in the past. But maybe, since he is finally with someone who makes him happy..he can?

"-Was this all you came here for?" His voice interrupts her thoughts. "You pointing out all the terrible things I've done?"

"Well, no." She moves uncomfortably in her seat. She's not sure if this is the right time to ask, but what choice does she have? "I wanted to ask you if...we can ch-change our relationship?"

He looks confused. She elaborates, "I don't want what we have to be broken...avoiding you all the time, that is. Jack talked with me about it, and I think....I think I want you as a father, to me..."

This time, the silence feels deafening. She can't exactly read his expression past his glasses, but she can sense he's surprised. At a lack of response, she decides to continue on, nervously explaining:

"You created me. You were the first one I saw when I was brought into this world...and I looked up to you. I didn't understand love or marriages, or anything until I met Jack. Before then, I just thought you as my guardian and someone who looked after me...and I still feel that way. I still want you in my life. But not as someone I love the same way as I do with Jack. I...want a father."

He is still speechless. But her point has been made. She waits for his response as he looks away, rubbing his chin in thought. After a few minutes, he asks, "...You think of me as your father?"

"I do. I know you've moved on, now, with Jewel. And I have with Jack. So I think whatever went on in our past, we can simply forget about and start again..."

"You were always special to me, girl. I just didn't know in what way. For so long I believed you were meant as a partner for me, because that was my intention on making you...but things clearly didn't happen that way. If only I had realized sooner." He chuckles slightly. "I was so jealous of Jack taking you away. But it seems that was the best thing for both of us. I've always looked to him as a son, so....the idea of you as my daughter isn't too far-fetched..."

Her eyes light up at his words. "You want to be a father to me, then?"

"It makes perfect sense to me." He pauses before offering her his hand. "-I still love you, Sally. But only as my daughter, from now on."

She's shocked at those words. Hearing him say he loved her without any force or romantic implications behind it...it was like she was hearing her own father saying he loved her for the first time. She's overcome with tears of joy, and in a moment of relief, she lunges forward and wraps her arms around Finklestein, giving him their first true embrace after all these years. In her grasp, he actually feels warm this time around.

"I love you, too."

His jaw hangs open in alarm as he suddenl finds himself in a hug. His hands linger in the air for a few seconds before he comes to terms with what is happening. Hearing how happy she sounds, and the tears he can feel falling on his neck...he does nothing more but hold her back, closing his eyes and relishing his first true contact with his creation - no, his daughter. The longer they embrace, the more moist his eyes become. He soon realizes a few tears are falling from behind his glasses, but he doesn't mind them.

----

"-I hope you don't mind poisonberry, it's the only flavor I can find in this kitchen..."

Jack watches as Jewel sets down a cup of tea in front of him. He is sitting at the head of the table - the usual spot he always sits in whenever he visits. He thanks the ragdoll and gives a polite smile, taking a quick sip of the tea and humming at the familiarity of the flavor. He recalls the last time he drank poisonberry tea when he was over here - how time has flown since then, and now Sally is living with him instead of here....it feels almost odd not to come around just to see her anymore.

Jewel sits to the side of him and takes a drink out of her own cup. She smiles before drumming her gloved fingers along the glass. Things are quiet for the first few minutes - neither of them sure how to start conversation. Jack is a natural at conversing with people, as his Kingly duties are to be sociable with his citizens, but knowing that this woman is Sally's replacement gives him...an unsettling feeling in his bones.

"Do you know what they're talking about?" She suddenly asks him. "I know it's not polite to think of other people's businesses, but I'm curious..."

"It's a little personal for Sally. She's wanted to have this talk with him for awhile, I'm sure." He takes another drink and shifts his gaze. She nods along in thought.

"Yes, I bet you're right..."

Again, they're met with silence. He thinks this is far too uncomfortable to pass the time with. He sets down his cup and clasps his skeletal hands together, deciding to talk to her properly. It can't hurt to get to know the Doctor's new wife.

"So, Jewel, how is it living here? Are you happy?"

"Absolutely awful!" She responds in delight. "Finklestein is very kind to me. He lets me decorate around the tower, read all of these books, and cook and clean for him! Just today, he let me go out and buy some rotted apples..."

"-He isn't forcing you to do these things for him, is he..?"

"Oh, no! It's just polite because it's not easy for him to do. I think helping him out like this is my duty more than anything."

The skeleton smiles, but feels a little conflicted, deep down. Hearing such positive things about the Doctor after receiving the opposite from Sally for such a long time is...new. Despite that, he's relieved to hear Jewel is happy. At least he won't have to worry about checking in for any concerning reasons like he had to before...He can only assume the Doctor must have learned SOMETHING from Sally's departure if he isn't outright forcing these chores on Jewel.

"...What is Sally like?"

Her voice brings him out of his thoughts. He thinks he's misheard. "Hm?"

"I don't know much about her besides what the Doctor does. A little bit of that, anyway." She explains uncertainly. "He hasn't been too keen on talking about her with me. I know I was made as her replacement. But she seems very kind."

"Oh, Sally is. Very much so. She's also resourceful and smart. She's quite skilled with her talents and passions, too. I think you two could get along well, if you ever sat down and talked with her."

"You think so?"

"Of course! She's a little shy on the surface, but friendly once you get to know her."

Jewel looks happy as her eyes go onto the table. She begins fidgeting with her gloves in thought. After a moment, she tells him, "It's a good thing you took her in when you did."

"Is it?"

"From what I can remember." She sees the confusion on his face. "Since Finklestein gave me half of his brain, I can retain half of his memories...this means I recall a lot about him and Sally. Their relationship, from what I see....seemed very rough. And not quite happy."

He shakes his skull. "It wasn't."

"For the first few days, it was hard for me to distinguish things the present from the past. I kept getting these flashbacks to what the Doctor and Sally had. I remember their arguments, their fights, and disagreements...none of those memories are pleasant in the slightest." She frowns. "I have one very clear memory of them fighting before she ran off. The Doctor felt so heartbroken, and the things that were said...I can tell there were many problems between them I just don't fully understand."

Jack is quiet. He's not exactly sure what to say to this. A response apparently isn't necessary, as she glances up and smiles again. "-Deep down, healways cared about her. Maybe a little too much for his own good...and that's why he felt so badly hurt. But he cared about her. And behind everything he did, it's because he didn't know how to live without her."

"Hmm."

"I try to learn things from his memory. I'm gifted with science because I share his knowledge. We get along well. We seem to have the same hobbies, the same interests....but after learning his true feelings, I want to help him become a better person. Just the other day, I tried to talk to him about seeing Sally again...and he didn't want to do it. That's why I was so happy to see you two here."

"I had to encourage Sally to come. She didn't want to, either." He folds his hands on the table. "I thought it'd be the best for them to sit down and talk properly for once. It'll be good for the both of them."

"Finklestein is getting better. He lets me do things he didn't let Sally do. I can see why she'd feel the way she did; I'd be the same way if I ended up in her position." She rubs her wrist. "-What I'm saying is, it's a good thing you're taking over, now. You know how to take care of her. And if you hadn't, I don't know who else would." She ends this with another shrug. "-Then again, that's just what I assume from these memories..."

He smiles, and Jewel returns it. This talk hadn't been so bad after all. They start to finish their tea and speak a little more, this time, about Halloween and the town. He finds her curious about the holiday and people like Sally was, and he's more than happy to enlighten another person about it. Jack's opinion has definitely changed after hearing more from her - she's quite enlightening, and seems to be as caring as Sally is.

. . .

The two of them are soon interrupted by the sound of a wheelchair and footsteps coming from the other room. The moment Sally and Dr. Finklestein appear in the doorway, both Jewel and Jack stand from their seats. The skeleton walks past the table to meet with his girlfriend, giving her a kiss on her forehead and brushing her hair off to the side. She doesn't seem upset at all..rather, happy.

"How did it go?" He asks her quietly. She glances over at the Doctor and closes her eyes.

They had spoken a little more after their hug, about how sorry they equally were with how things went in their relationship. Although he had done made of the cruel actions and decisions, she understood how some of the things she did and said hurt him as well. She really was rebellious and went against even his harmless wishes at times. Despite that, the rest of their conversation was enlightening, even speaking of how this father-daughter thing will work. She promised him she will make future visits, and that she's going to put an effort into getting to know him better. As a parental figure rather than a husband.

"It went perfect..."

Jewel comes over to pat Finklestein on his shoulder. He puts a hand over hers before turning over to Jack and Sally. He seems to be just as happy as she is. He takes a deep breath before slowly exhaling, motioning to Sally with a gloved hand and a smile.

"We had a wonderful talk, my dear. Thank you for coming today."

"Thank you for listening to me, and wanting to do this." She sounds relieved talking to him for once. "I promise I'll come back someday."

"Please, do! I'd love to have my daughter visit me again." He looks at Jack and bows his head. "You're obviously free to come by, too, m'boy."

The Pumpkin King looks astounded at his words. 'Daughter'? Had things truly gone according to plan..? He looks over and finds Sally grinning. The two of them decide to leave and say goodbye to the Doctor and Jewel. Jack feels enlightened as he shakes their hands, and Sally feels strangely calm as she hugs the Doctor goodbye. Their embrace still feels warm this time around. She's already liking this so much better.

"Take care, you two! Have a horrendous day!" Dr. Finklestein calls to them as they leave. They wave their hands in return.

When the couple look at each other, they sense something new in their gazes. Already can he tell Sally will have plenty to tell him, and he can't wait to mention the things he's learned in return. He offers her his hand, and she doesn't hesitate to take it. Their walk back to the Skellington Manor is quiet, but nothing is needed to be said. They'll be returning to their home together, where they have all the time in the world to talk and hold each other in their arms...

----

They take a few minutes to get situated in the Manor. Sally gets comfortable in one of the chairs while Zero rests peacefully in her lap. She brings her hand to pet the ghost every few seconds, smiling as she listens to the peaceful sounds of the wind outside. Jack eventually comes into the room and joins her, sitting in the chair next to her and listening as his dog snores away. He fishes for something in his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper with various numbers scrawled on it. He hands it to Sally to observe, and she reads it without a word.

"Jewel wanted me to give this to you. It's the number to the Doctor's tower. I have it memorized, but I think it'll be useful for you to have. In case you don't want to go all that way to see him, you two can talk using the telephone."

She stares at it a bit longer before putting it aside. "I think I'll try that, sometime...I'm not very good with telephones just yet."

"I'll have to teach you how to use mine, then."

She dips her head, still coming to terms with everything that's happened. It's nearly been 2 weeks since she's moved in with Jack. It's hard to believe she fixed her and the Doctor's relationship so soon. Slowly, she says, "I have a dad now..."

Her boyfriend smiles. "That you do."

"I thought he wouldn't agree. But he did. He told me he loved me again....but it was different. I knew he was talking about family love this time."

"See? Talking to him wasn't the worst thing in the world. As a matter of fact, things might be better now that you did."

"You're right. And I want to thank you. Again." She leans forward to lay a hand on his arm. "If you hadn't talked me into it, I don't know when would've been the next time I'd have spoken to him..."

He lays his hand over hers and squeezes it tightly. He frowns for a moment. "I won't have to see you worrying about him or what he did to you again, will I?"

"No." She shakes her head with a smirk. "He told me he was sorry for it all, and it sounded like he meant it this time."

"It's a good thing Jewel's around now, isn't it?"

"I think so. He told me she was teaching him to be better. And seeing how I didn't get yelled at or blamed for anything...I think she's doing a good job."

He mulls over something for a moment. "You know...I got to talk with her while you were in with the Doctor. She told me interesting things. About him, and all. It turns out they share memories and feelings together. She told me that Finklestein has always cared about you, and he just didn't know how to live without you."

She looks down, recalling what he told her about her chores. "I guess that makes sense..."

"-Jewel is a lot like you. She seems to be sweet and caring...I told her I think the two of you would get along." He hums. "Maybe you can have a relationship with her, too....like what you're going to have with the Doctor?"

"You mean, Jewel as my mother?" Her eyes widen. "-I don't know what it's like to have a mom."

"I think she would be a terrific one! Think about it. The both of you want Finklestein to be better, and you two can certainly understand what it's like to live with him...maybe now that he wants to have you as a daughter, Jewel will feel the same way, too."

She brings her gaze back to Zero in her lap, scratching under his ears. "I'll have to think about that..." A thought comes to her and she smiles at him. "You know what the Doctor told me..? That he's always looked to you like his son."

His eye sockets widen in surprise. "Really?"

" I always wondered how close he was to you. But now that he sees me as a daughter, he said it wasn't very far-fetched."

Jack is quiet for an awfully long time. She doesn't question it and continues to pet Zero in thought. After a few seconds, she leans over to rest her head on his shoulder. Her mind is finally at peace for once. The troubling thoughts of the Doctor are no longer surfacing in her mind. Instead, all she thinks about is the fact that she has a dad now. Jack, meanwhile, is holding the side of his skull in thought. He brings an arm over Sally so she can get comfortable, but his gaze is elsewhere.

He's always been close with the Doctor, ever since he was young. They've had plenty of history together through these years. Jack got his interest in science watching Finklestein work in his lab, and learning about chemistry and experimenting from him. He had grown to look at him as a friend and a sort of inspirational figure. He never thought he'd end up falling in love with one of his creations. But knowing that she is his daughter...that can bring the possibility of him truly becoming Finklestein's son in the future. That is, if he were to marry Sally...

His gaze comes over to her, and finds her falling fast asleep. He chuckles and leans forward to kiss her cheek. As her marvels at her beauty, those three words come to mind again. He thought he had enough of them after what happened with the witches, but now the subject has found its way to him again. A Pumpkin Queen. His bones start to tingle again. The longer he stares at her, the more he starts imagining it - witnessing her as his bride, becoming his Queen, and starting a married life with her...It is a peculiar thing for him to fantasize about at a time like this, but he finds the thought strangely enticing...

#long post #the nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #jack and sally #dr finklestein #jack x sally #our nightmare #fanfiction #disney #tim burton #nightmare before christmas

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whentherewerebicycles · 4 years

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OKAY just had a two-hour meeting with one of my advisees as we scramble to meet a bunch of december 1 deadlines... now i think i am done for the day?? possibly one other meeting? i think i also need to just think through the rest of the week because good lord dec. 1 is coming up soon.

monday: EL meeting; finish decluttering & deep cleaning closet, bathroom, and bedroom; rotate skate wheels

tuesday: declutter & deep clean kitchen, living room, and car (this will be an all-day undertaking probably agh); follow up with CP about deadlines

wednesday: give final round of feedback on EL SOPs; devote 30 minutes to putting together a full calendar of December rec deadlines; devote 1 hr to taking notes and loosely outlining Dec. 1-5 recs; other than that this can be a day of sloth

thursday: thanksgiving!! socially distanced pup playdate with andrea in the morning; friendsgiving with reid and emily in the afternoon/evening maybe?

friday: THE DAY OF RECKONING. on this day i will go into campus to spend the entire day giving feedback on EL’s 15 page writing sample and writing the three-ish (?) recs that are due in the first days of december. I will bribe myself by getting tacos from my favorite place on the way.

saturday: day of sloth

sunday: day of sloth

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s-horne · 5 years

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6. National Nurses Day

(please take heed of the tags and proceed with caution. tw: cancer)

“You have to tell him.”

Steve slowed to a stop when he heard Rhodey’s voice in the kitchen. Having Rhodey in the house in itself wasn’t unusual, but the serious tone of his voice was. Normally, Steve wouldn’t have stopped to listen, but there was something about how Tony had been acting lately that bothered him and made him slow down to a halt. There had been more and more occasions of Tony’s phone going unanswered or him cancelling dates with Steve. His excuses were getting weaker and weaker as well and Steve was starting to panic. Maybe Tony would be opening up to Rhodey and Steve would finally get some answers.

“I’m not telling him,” Steve heard Tony say.

“You have to.” That was Rhodey. “He deserves to know.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does, Tones. It’s not fair on him.”

“If anything,” Tony argued, “it’s fairer. Keeping him in the dark is the best thing for him.”

“It’s lying. You’re lying to him, you know that, right?”

“It’s not lying. It’s, um, it’s omitting. It’s… look, I don’t want him to know. He doesn’t need to know. It’s like telling a child that Santa Claus is real. You know it’s not true, but it keeps them happy, so it’s fine.”

“Tony, I mean it.” There was a pause and Steve felt his breath catch in his throat. God, he shouldn’t be listening to this. It was the perfect example of why eavesdropping was so discouraged. People heard things that they didn’t want to hear. “How many dates have you cancelled now?”

“I have to,” Tony said. “I’m exhausted when it’s over. I just don’t have the energy for date night. I need a bath and my bed. My bed; my real, own bed instead of some stranger’s.”

Steve thought he might be sick. He didn’t want to think about why Tony would be tired after skipping out on meeting up with Steve or leaving work only.

“You have to–”

“No,” Tony snapped, and Steve was taken aback by the venom he could hear in his voice. “Look, I said I don’t want him to know, okay? He doesn’t need to know. He can’t know.”

Steve bit down on the pain he felt at that. He had thought that he and Tony could tell each other anything. There wasn’t anything that Steve didn’t tell Tony. To hear that it didn’t go both ways hurt a lot.

“Where were you?”

Tony jumped half a mile and clutched a hand over his heart, throwing down his keys and leaning back against the front door.

“Oh, good God, Steve. Don’t do that to me.”

“Where were you?” Steve repeated, his face dark. He’d told himself that he wasn’t going to get angry and defensive, but that plan had gone out of the window as soon as he’d seen Tony. “Where have you been all day?”

“I told you–”

“Don’t lie to me,” Steve cut in sharply. “I rang the office to see if you had a free twenty minutes for me to take you out for lunch and I was told that you weren’t there. Your cell’s been off as well, for at least two hours. So don’t you dare tell me you were at work.”

“Steve, babe, I–”

“I said don’t lie to me.” Steve pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. “No lies. Not anymore.”

Tony sighed and Steve felt his glare blacken even more.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You bastard,” Steve snapped and Tony recoiled as though he’d been slapped. “I trusted you. I love you and you’ve thrown that back in my face with this bullshit.”

“You can trust me,” Tony said, reaching his hands out and Steve jumped up from the table. He took a sharp step backwards before Tony could touch him and shook his head. “Steve, you can.”

“I obviously can’t. You’ve done nothing but lie to me for weeks. Lying and hiding. Sneaking out on me, making up shit excuses and getting Rhodey to lie to me as well. You’re either sleeping with someone else or… I don’t even know what else you could be doing. All I know is I won’t do this anymore. I won’t stay here and have you lie to me.” Steve pushed past Tony, looking back over his shoulder as he stormed out of the door. “No more, Tony. No more.”

“Don’t say I told you so,” Tony said as soon as he heard the line had connected.

Rhodey sighed deeply down the phone and Tony punched the couch cushion next to him. “I wouldn’t. What happened?”

“He said he couldn’t trust me.”

“Oh, fuck. How did he find out?”

Tony dropped his head forward and rubbed his hand across his forehead in a weak attempt to stave off his headache. “He rang the office. I asked Pep to cover for me when I went out, but I didn’t tell the others what was happening. Steve must have gotten one of the girls downstairs and, when asked to talk to me, he got told I wasn’t there. They said I’d be out all afternoon, right after I’d told him I had back-to-back meetings and would be tied to my desk.”

“Shit. What are you going to do?”

Tony sniffed loudly and wiped his nose, falling back onto the couch. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I doubt he’ll ever talk to me again. He’s thinking the worst. I know he is; he basically said as much when he yelled at me.”

“It kind of is the worst, Tones.”

“Not what he’s thinking,” Tony said angrily. “I wouldn’t do that. There’s no way I’d–”

“I know, I know. I know you wouldn’t. But that’s where Steve’s mind has gone. Look at it from his view – how many dates have you cancelled in the last month alone? You have to tell him, Tony.”

There was a long pause before Tony sighed. “I don’t think I can.”

“Tones–”

“I can’t. Steve doesn’t need to know. Especially not if he thinks I’ve cheated on him. Why don’t I just let him think that? Let him leave me. He can move on, think that I would do that. A clean and easy break for him.”

“And you could do that?” Tony bit his lip and covered his eyes with a shaking hand at Rhodey’s voice. Of course Rhodey knew the answer to that question, but that was just how he was. He always pushed Tony further than anybody else did, always made him confront himself. “You could really let Steve break everything and keep that image of you in his head? You’d be okay with him thinking that lowly of you when you might…”

Rhodey broke off and Tony swallowed, his throat tight.

“I don’t want to do this, Rhodey,” he whispered. “I don’t want to tell him. He’s going to leave me.”

“He’s not going to leave you,” Rhodey said quickly, softly. “I don’t want you to have to tell him about it, either. But you have to, Tones. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Really?” Of course it wasn’t. Tony knew that, but for some reason he wanted to hear that it would. He didn’t even care that it would clearly be a lie.

“Of course it is,” Rhodey said without a moment’s pause and Tony felt a sad smile tug at his lips.

“Liar.”

“Just for you. Now, go and tell him.”

“Love you, honeybear.”

Rhodey sighed, but Tony could hear the fondness in his tone when he spoke again. “Love you, too. Ring me later.”

“I was at the hospital.”

Steve’s hand froze just as he was reaching into the top of the chest of drawers. There was an open suitcase on the bed next to him and half of his clothes already packed. It was the cowardly thing to do, but Steve couldn’t stand the idea of staying in a house whilst knowing that his partner was spending his nights in someone else’s bed.

But then Tony’s words hit him and his blood ran cold. He blinked once, twice. “What?”

“The hospital,” Tony repeated, voice flat. He sounded almost defeated, like whatever he was going to say wasn’t going to change Steve’s mind. “When you called me the other day. And when I wasn’t at the office last week. Tuesday, too. In fact, probably every time for the past four months when you’ve wondered where I was. I wasn’t in someone else’s bed. I would have been at the hospital.”

Steve kept his eyes straight in front of him for a long moment, his mind jumping in too many directions to focus. With a great effort, he turned to look at Tony in the doorway and swallowed.

“Why?” He cleared his throat when his voice came out hideously hoarse. “Why would you have been at the hospital?”

There was a long pause before Tony took a deep breath and visibly straightened. “Because I have… I have it. You know. It. Cancer.”

Steve nodded jerkily and his hands made some sort of aborted movements at his side. “Yeah,” he said stupidly, the sound thick. “Yeah. I got that. I just – oh. Fuck.”

Tony snorted. “Hm. My thoughts exactly.”

Steve didn’t take his eyes from Tony’s as he placed the clothes in his hands onto the bed to the side of him. The action felt far too calm for the thoughts and emotions swimming around in his head and Steve felt like an idiot. He wanted to run across the room to Tony, but he felt rooted to the floor. It was almost as though there were chains gripping him, cold metal digging into his chest and welding him to the carpet. His world had flipped. Everything that he had thought he’d known had been reversed in the space of thirty seconds.

There was so much that he wanted to know, but he wasn’t sure what he should ask. In a horrible way, he wasn’t sure what he could ask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” That was definitely a big question that Steve needed the answer to.

“I couldn’t.”

Steve gaped. Had he really fucked up that much as a boyfriend? Was he that horrible a partner that Tony could have turned to him when he needed him the most? This was the most difficult time in Tony’s life and he was going through it alone, all because he couldn’t share it with Steve.

Steve could have cried at that thought and he stared over at Tony, heart-breaking at the very idea of him going through any hospital dealings, never mind alone. He closed his eyes as an image of Tony lying in a stark-white bed thrust itself to the forefront of Steve’s mind. Tubes and blood and scans swum around his brain, pictures of Tony curled up on a hard, plastic chair waiting with baited breath for the results of tests. It was vile.

“I’m sorry, Tony. Fuck, I’m sorry. For whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

God, but it was the wrong thing to focus on. Steve knew that he shouldn’t have been making it about himself, but his brain was so full that he just didn’t know what to focus on.

Tony stepped into the room and walked over until he reached the edge of the bed. He reached out slowly and rested his hand on Steve’s wrist, curling his fingers round his arm gently. The touch grounded Steve, comforted him even through a layer of shirt fabric.

“You hate hospitals,” Tony said quietly. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open as he processed Tony’s words. The reason that Tony had suffered without him for so long and even led Steve to believe he was cheating was all because Steve didn’t like hospitals?

“You what? Tony–”

“No, Steve. I know what you’re going to say, but it isn’t that–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘serious’, I’ll scream,” Steve said with a wet sniff. He lifted his hand and pointed at Tony as if daring him to argue.

“It’s not,” Tony said, ignoring Steve. “Really, it’s not that serious. I can handle it.”

Steve took a deep breath and stared straight at Tony. “Well, then. I can too.”

“No,” Tony said, dropping his gaze to the floor for a moment before he looked back up, shoulders pushed back and eyes a little watery. “You couldn’t.”

“If you say it’s not that serious, then it I can clearly handle it.”

“No, it’s not that serious, but I am in hospital a lot. I have to be monitored and checked all the time. I mean it, Steve. It’s a lot. I have regular appointments and tests bi-weekly. It’s too much.”

“I can do it.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Well I want to,” Steve said with a fierce determination. His heart was beating wildly and felt like it was in his throat. The last place he actually wanted to be was a hospital, but he imagined that Tony felt much the same way. He could do it for Tony. “I’d do anything for you.”

Tony smiled, heartbreakingly soft and far too sad. “I know you would. And I love you for it, so fucking much. Which is why I won’t ever, ever let you watch me suffer. I don’t want you anywhere near that place.”

Steve reached out, but Tony leant further away from the touch. It stung, Steve couldn’t pretend that it didn’t even though he tried to keep it from his face.

“Steve, I can’t have you there.”

“And why not? Why can’t I be there to support you? Why the fuck did you hide this from me and shut me out for so long?”

“Because you’ve already done this once!”

Steve was taken aback by Tony’s sudden cry and he jolted back a little. Before he could open his mouth, Tony barrelled ahead, voice loud.

“You did this with your mom, Steve. You had to sit there for tests and results, had to spend hours in waiting rooms and ferry yourself back and forth for visiting hours. It took so much out of you; I know it did. I didn’t want to bring up those memories again. I don’t want you to see her face when you sit at my side.”

Steve took a step forward without even thinking about it. The sheer thought of Tony doing it all alone just to save Steve from having to see it made him want to sob. His heart skipped a beat and before he knew it, he had Tony in his arms.

“I love you, you idiot,” he murmured into Tony’s hair, voice shaking as much as his hands. “I might spend every single session in tears, but I’d do it without caring if it means that you won’t be there on your own. The thought of you going through this makes me want to… I don’t want to think about losing you, Tony. And I really don’t want to think about you sitting there on your own letting your mind conjure up the worst.”

They stood there for a moment, Steve’s arms tight around Tony’s shoulders and his lips against Tony’s temple. Very slowly, Tony’s arms came up and clutched at the back of Steve’s shirt. His hands pulled the material tight across Steve’s stomach, his fingertips digging into the base of Steve’s spine.

“I’m scared,” Tony whispered into Steve’s neck. “I’m so scared, Steve, and I don’t want you to see me like that. I’m not my usual self when I’m there, when I’m waiting for results. I’m a mess. More of a mess than you’ve ever seen me. This isn’t just me tired and hungry; this is a whole new level.”

“I want to be there.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut to hold back his tears and pulled Tony even closer. The embrace was probably tight enough to hurt, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to loosen his grip. Tony wasn’t cheating on him and that sent relief powering through him. Though what the truth was was so much worse than that, which sent the relief flying away again. “I want to be there for you. No matter what, sweetheart. That was the deal, remember? I don’t want you doing this alone.”

“I’m so scared.”

“I know.” Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s soft skin. “Oh, God. I know. But you don’t have to do it alone. Please, baby. Let’s do this together.”

“I hate it, Steve. I hate it so much.”

Steve felt Tony’s grip begin to tremble and stroked circles into his shoulders. “How long?”

“Have I had it or have I got left?”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut at the defeat in Tony’s words and pressed his lips to Tony’s head. “Both,” he managed to mumble. “Either.”

“Six months.”

Tony said no more and Steve’s legs nearly gave out. “That’s how long you’ve–”

“Had it,” Tony cut in quickly, his grip tightening so that he could press even closer to Steve’s body. “I’ve had it for six. They can’t give me an answer for the other.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” Steve slid one hand up to cup the back of Tony’s head. “What can I do? What can we do?”

“Don’t leave me, Steve,” Tony whispered, his lips brushing Steve’s collarbone. “Don’t ever leave me. Unpack the bag and stay with me.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark.”

Tony looked up from his phone with a bright smile, though it didn’t meet his eyes, hands trembling traitorously. “Afternoon, Nurse Daniels. You’re looking gorgeous, as usual. How are you doing today?”

The nurse smiled softly and gestured to the seats at the edge of the hallway. “I think that’s meant to be my question, darlin’. Go take a seat and I’ll call you in in a moment.” She headed over to the door to the testing room before she paused and looked back. “Are you here on your own today?”

Before Tony could open his mouth to reply, footsteps started to echo down the hall.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m here,” Steve said as he hurried close and dropped down into a seat next to Tony. “I was just scoping out the coffee options for afterwards. They’ve got some nice baked goods in the place over the road, if you need to get your sugar back up?”

Tony grinned and turned to the nurse, reaching out to pull Steve’s hand into his lap and twisting their hands together. “Nope. Not alone.”

Steve looked up and smiled at the nurse. “Good afternoon, Nurse. Lovely to meet you. I’m Steve.”

The nurse’s eyes lit up and she looked over to Tony with raised eyebrows. “The famous Steve. Oh, my lovely, I was starting to think this day would never come. Give me just a few minutes and then we can get this show on the road. I’m going to have so many questions for you.”

Steve laughed and squeezed Tony’s hand. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Tony leant to his side and rested his cheek on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not gonna be here alone anymore.”

#I wrote a thing #a may medley #stony fic #stevetony fic #stony fic rec #stevetony fic rec #tw: cancer #rhodey #Steve Rogers #tony stark #steve rogers lo #stony au

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xseildnasterces · 4 years

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the end.

Today has been quite the struggle. It’s now 3pm, and I only actually rolled out of bed about an hour. I just wasn’t feeling it. I woke up early this morning before 7am. I hadn't slept well at all last night. I had the weirdest of dreams, complemented by the most bizarre nightmares - ones that I thought were real and left me waking up wondering where on earth I was. It was just a bad sleep. It is so windy here at the moment that it almost feels like my huge windows are going to come crashing in and that’s another reason for not being able to sleep. the wind is just so loud. It snowed last night too, I woke up and saw it but then by the time I had fallen asleep and woke up again hours later most of it had gone which was sad. Currently, it’s miserable and drizzly outside. I had intended on heading out to Georgetown today to buy some bits and pieces, but seeing the weather and waking up on a major downer meant I just couldn’t bring myself to leave my bed. I called my mum and had the longest video call which was great. We chatted about everything and anything and about her visiting in March which is just so exciting. We also talked about it being K’s birthday next week, but the following day being the 40 days since A’s mum’s death, so it’s not going to be a good week for her. She really hasn’t had an easy ride since being there... but none of us are really surprised about that.

After coming off the phone to my mum hours later I fiddled about on my phone, did nothing and lay there staring at the ceiling thinking, overthinking and wondering what on earth was really going on in my head. I eventually dragged myself and decided that today would be the day I would finally tackle cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom. Since moving in I haven’t used the kitchen at all (except for putting things in the fridge), purely because I refuse to use it until it’s been completely cleaned, but also because I don’t have any furniture in the living/dining area I just spend all my time in the bedroom... that will change this week. I am not going to bed this evening until I have bought a dining table and chairs! I hadn’t really fully checked the kitchen, but considering I was told it had been deep cleaned before moving in I assumed it wouldn’t be too bad. Of course, I was sceptical if it had indeed been deep cleaned, and after today I will be sending an email to the building manager informing them it certainly hadn’t. I have literally scrubbed from top to bottom, removed the shelves, cupboard doors, and everything else in order to fully clean and I am sweating like an idiot. This may as well be classed as a workout, because my god, it feels like one. I’ve been over everything once, but once it's dried I will go over everything again with an anti-bacterial wash to ensure it’s actually clean. Then I can start moving in by bits and bobs. My kettle and toaster arrived yesterday, I already had a few other things I bought when I first moved here or brought with me, and my mum bought me a couple of things for Christmas, including Moomin things! I also have a Moomin tea box and Moomin coffee container back at my parents that I forgot to bring so hopefully my mum will bring them over in March.

I did all this whilst listening to some old school teenage Z music. It may be 2020, but I am still more than happy to dance my away around cleaning the kitchen whilst listening to BFMV - The Poison album, because, who wouldn’t? Knowing it’s 14 years old though makes me want to cry. Where have all those years gone?

I’m grateful for the long weekend. Three days to chill, and just not have to worry about work, although lot’s of days alone always make me feel a bit depressed, which perhaps was started this morning. I hope today was my day of nothing and tomorrow and Monday I can try and actually do some things and not just shut myself indoors, but we shall see how I feel on waking up tomorrow.

Last night I watched three episodes of the new season of Sex Education and genuinely found myself laughing out loud on my own, which I needed and was nice. I’m enjoying it and I’ll probably watch some more today once I’ve finished deep cleaning.

I had my weekly call with J yesterday which only lasted about 5 minutes because he had forgotten his charger and his phone died, so we will watch up on Tuesday. Typical J, but as always it cheered me up seeing his face.

Anyway, I should probably get back to it, and try to keep my mind occupied. The Posion has just finished, so I shall continue my afternoon with some more classic teenage Z music and relive my youth.

[Blog Title: The End - Bullet For My Valentine].

#the end #bfmv #bullet for my valentine #me #personal #diary #journal #thoughts #thought #feeling #feelings #life #life update

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smkkbert · 5 years

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Time for a story - Casual Proposal

“Get home safe,” Oliver said, “and text me when you are home.”

Chuckling, Thea pulled back from the hug. “Ollie, I am living only fifteen minutes from here and I am not even going home alone. Besides, as a secret vigilante I am quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Don’t you think that it’s a little exaggerated to still ask me to text you when I am back home?”

She perked up her eyebrows and cocked her head. As much as she tried to look like a teacher that was rebuking a student for misbehaving, it didn’t belie the amusement that lay underneath. The glint in her eyes and the twitching of the corners of her lips showed it.

“Absolutely not.”

Thea chuckled at his firm answer and shook her head. She leaned back into the hug once more and kissed his cheek before she let go of him completely.

“It was a great afternoon,” she said. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“Always,” Oliver replied with a smile. “See you Tuesday.”

“For the big finale of this eventful week.” Thea chuckled. “I’ll be there.”

While Thea walked to the end of the driveway where Roy and Robbie were already waiting for her, Oliver leaned into the frame of the door and watched her. It didn’t matter how old she was or how skilled she was in protecting herself. She would always be his baby sister, so he would always do everything he could to protect her.

When Roy just nodded into Oliver’s direction in a wordless way of saying goodbye, Oliver lifted his hand for a brief wave of his hand. Only when they turned around the corner and disappeared from Oliver’s field of vision, he closed the door and went back inside. With a sigh, he headed for the kitchen to clean up the mess Addie’s birthday party had left there.

To Oliver’s utter surprise, he found that he was not the first to have this idea. Frowning, he watched his friend filling the dishwasher.

“I thought you left half an hour ago with Laurel.”

Tommy lifted his gaze briefly before he turned back to the dishes. The same brooding expression that had been on his face all day was still showing in his eyes.

“I did,” Tommy said with a sigh, “but Laurel had to leave for work, and I didn’t want to sit at home alone. I came back through the garden.”

Oliver nodded slowly, watching his friend for a moment longer. He seemed to be completely focused on the task at hand. He didn’t even look away from the dishes.

“You know that you don’t have to do that, right?”

“Do what?”

“The dishes,” Oliver replied matter-of-factly. “I will do that later or tomorrow if-“

“Since you suggested that I should propose to Laurel yesterday, I can’t get that thought out of my head.”

Tommy stared at Oliver with an unreadable expression on his face. Oliver could say from the look in his friend’s eyes that he was confused or at least surprised that those words were coming from him. Oliver guessed that Tommy hadn’t expected himself to say those words, especially since he had told Felicity that he and Laurel were taking things slow and that conversation hadn’t happened that long ago.

Oliver smiled and went over to the fridge. He grabbed two bottles of beer and beckoned with a nod of his head for Tommy to follow him outside. They went over to the living room where Oliver sat down on the couch, holding out one of the bottles for Tommy. He sat down in an armchair opposite of Oliver and took the beer with a sigh.

When Oliver opened his bottle, Tommy frowned. “I thought you weren’t drinking.”

“I usually don’t,” Oliver replied, shrugging his shoulders, “but I guess this one is okay. Besides, I guess it will make talking much easier.”

They clinked their bottled and took some gulps of beer. Oliver couldn’t deny that the feeling of the cool liquid running down his throat was exactly what he needed right now. The day had been more exhausting than he had noticed.

Pushing that thought away, Oliver watched his friend. Tommy had his elbows propped up onto his knees. He held his head lowered, looking at his feet. Still, Oliver didn’t miss the brooding expression on his friend’s face. It was still there.

“So, you want to get married to Laurel.”

Oliver didn’t pronounce it as a question since it wasn’t one. He didn’t even have any doubt about it. Tommy might still be confused and unsure about this decision, but Oliver knew that he really meant it. After all, he knew Tommy and he knew what it felt like to think that marriage was never going to be an option for you and then to suddenly find yourself wanting it nonetheless.

He remembered the very moment he had decided that he didn’t want to live without Felicity anymore and that he wanted to commit himself to her as much as possible. They had lain in bed together at night. Oliver had rested on top of Felicity with his head on top of her chest, so he could listen to the beat of her heart, the way he still slept now. Felicity’s fingers had carted through his hair gently and she had whispered soft words to lull him to sleep.

That had been the very moment Oliver had known that a life without Felicity was unthinkable for him. Only a year before that, a life with her had seemed unthinkable to him. Suddenly, a life without her had been.

“I didn’t think I would want that until you mentioned it,” Tommy said, his frown deepening as he looked at Oliver. “I love Laurel, and I want to spend my life with her. I just didn’t think that I wanted to get married until you put the idea into my head. I mean can you see me getting married?”

“Of course I can,” Oliver replied without hesitation. “You are talking to Oliver I-slept-around-because-of-commitment-issues-in-high-school Queen. If I can get married and have kids, so can you.”

“Kids?”

Tommy’s voice was at least an octave higher as it usually was as he said that word. He released a mixture of chuckle and a grunt. Marriage might be in Tommy’s range of possibilities now, but the thoughts of kids obviously still scared him away.

“Okay, let’s take one step at a time and focus on marriage,” Oliver said, biting back an amused grin. “Why are you hesitating?”

Oliver didn’t actually need to ask Tommy to know the answer for that. They had been gone through unspeakable trauma, an experience so horrible that there were only a few people on the earth that could possibly understand the ramifications they were still going through.

“My life is complicated, Oliver,” Tommy said with firm voice. “Everything I have gone through has changed me. I don’t want to pull Laurel into that kind of life.”

Now Oliver couldn’t fight back the smile anymore. Weren’t those the exact same thoughts that had gone through his head after he had decided that he wanted to get married to Felicity? They certainly were, but they hadn’t made his decision waver for more than fifteen minutes. He had just been too lost in his love for Felicity already.

“You mean the life as the son of the last Ra’s al Ghul and the man who killed so many people in a terroristic attack here?”

Oliver could see Tommy tensing and sucking in a deep breath. Hearing those words being said out loud seemed to bother him more than he might try to let on.

“My dad is horrible, and the name Merlyn will forever be tainted. Laurel comes from a loving family that is appreciated in Starling,” Tommy added, shaking his head. “I don’t want that for her.”

“I don’t think that Laurel cares.” Oliver’s voice was firm on that. “She is tough. She can deal with that. Besides, if you take on her name, all problems are solved.”

Tommy shot Oliver an annoyed glare. Oliver only smile, but he lifted his hands apologetically. He knew Tommy’s issues were about a lot more than just a name. As Oliver continued looking at Tommy, his friend lowered his gaze once more. Obviously, this wasn’t the only thing that kept his friend from getting married to the love of his life. After everything he had gone through, Oliver knew it wasn’t easy to take a step like that.

“I don’t know, Oliver.”

“What are you scared of?” Oliver asked. “Laurel loves you, man, and everyone could be lucky to have you as a husband.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.” Tommy’s voice was lowered to a whisper like he was afraid of admitting this to himself. “The life that I-“

“Let me stop you right here.”

Tommy perked up his eyebrows, looking at Oliver with surprise. Oliver smiled apologetically as he hadn’t meant to make it sound so overly didactic.

“Look,” he said eventually. “There was a time that I told Felicity that I thought it was better not to be with someone that I could really care about, and I was wrong. You saw it from the start. You saw that you should be with someone you care about which is why you gave your relationship with Laurel another chance. Now you just have to be bolt enough to be honest with yourself.”

With an almost insecure expression in his eyes, Tommy lifted his gaze to Oliver’s face once more. Without saying a word, he waited for Oliver to say whatever he had to say.

“Do you love Laurel?”

“More than anything.”

“Then don’t wait,” Oliver replied. “I almost waited too long. I could have lost Felicity. I would have probably lost her if I had turned her down one more time. I know the situation is different for Laurel and you because you are together already, but don’t just rest on that. It’s great you are together and happy, but that doesn’t mean that this new step isn’t going to make you feel even safer in your relationship. You will find even more peace, and you will finally accept that Laurel really chose you.”

Tommy frowned. “Are you saying that I should selfishly get married to her because I will feel safer?”

“I am saying that, if you love Laurel and want to be with her forever,” Oliver replied firmly, “it doesn’t matter what other reasons there are for getting married to her. Even if you were proposing for taxes, it doesn’t matter. All that that matters is that you love her and that you want to have a future with her. Don’t waste time overthinking it, Tommy. There is never real safety. Something can always go wrong. Make good use of your time. Just do it.”

Tommy looked at him for a long moment, probably trying to find any doubt in Oliver’s eyes. There was none to be found though. Oliver was sure of that since he had never, not even for a split second, regretted getting married to Felicity.

Oliver could almost see the moment Tommy made his decision. He could see it in the change of his eyes even before Tommy started nodding slowly. Oliver smiled happily. Tommy might still be confused and surprised about his decision, but Oliver was already happy for his friend. He knew that this was the right choice. It was the only choice to make.

With a long sigh, Tommy leaned back into the cushions of the couch. He took some gulps of his beer and shook his head.

“I don’t even know how to propose.”

Oliver bit down on his tongue. A part of him wanted to tell his friend how he had planned the perfect proposal for Felicity. The entire Arrow Team had been needed to make it work, but he had just wanted it to be perfect. He had known that there would a lot of things that wouldn’t be perfect in the life he had been about to offer Felicity. At least the proposal should have been perfect.

Of course he had completely screwed it up though. Since he had spent so much time planning the proposal, he had asked Thea to distract Felicity. Unfortunately, it had looked like he had tried to get rid of her to Felicity, so she had thought that he was going to break up. After she had been shopping lingerie with Thea, Oliver had waited for her and they had talked about it. One thing had let to another and they had ended up having passionate sex in the bed. Right during the peak of their pleasure, the proposal had just slipped from Oliver’s lips.

If Oliver told Tommy about that perfect proposal, he had to talk about this screwed up one too he guessed. Otherwise, the truth would get lost. Oliver didn’t believe that a big proposal was what was needed to propose. Actually, the small gestures that just came from the heart were a lot more honest. If being with Felicity for ten years now had taught him anything, it was that.

“You just pop the question. You don’t need anything else. You don’t need flowers. You don’t need candlelight. You don’t even need a ring,” Oliver said firmly. “You love Laurel, and she loves you. That is all that matters. Everything else is just bonus.”

Tommy tore his hair slightly and shook his head. “I can’t just pop the question. It’s not romantic enough. She won’t even take me seriously.”

“Of course she will,” Oliver replied. “She-“

When he could hear Felicity’s voice from the foyer, Oliver stopped. He turned his head to look at the door. Only a moment later Felicity stepped into the living room, the baby monitor in her hand. She was already about to say something when she saw Tommy and frowned.

“I came back,” he simply replied to the wordless question and shrugged his shoulders. “Did Addie fall asleep?”

“Nope,” Felicity lifted the baby monitor and took a look at the video it showed. “She is still wide awake.”

When she pushed the buttons to turn up the volume, Oliver could hear the little birthday girl babbling to herself. She was probably trying to fight off sleep.

“And what are you two doing here?” Felicity asked. “Other than drinking beer?”

There was a little bit of surprise but no reproach in her voice. She knew that he had been intent on staying sober these last weeks, so the bottle of beer on the couch table in front of her had to come as a surprise for her. She didn’t hold it against him though.

Neither Oliver nor Tommy replied. They just exchanged some glances, unsure what to say. If the expression on Tommy’s face was any indication, he didn’t want to tell Felicity about the decision he had just made.

“Okay, I see. Boys’ talk,” Felicity answered her own question. “I will leave you guys alone.”

With lifted hands, Felicity was already backtracking. With another brief glance towards Tommy, Oliver figured that it was easier to show than to tell.

Oliver quickly took hold of Felicity’s hand pulled her towards him. When the back of her knees hit the armrest of the couch, Felicity fell right onto his lap. Oliver’s strong arms held her tight against him though. Felicity’s face was so close that Oliver could feel her breath ghosting over his chin when she chuckled.

“What was that?” she asked. “If you needed protection from Tommy, you could have just said so. I’d gladly protect you from anything.”

With a quiet smile on his lips, he just watched her for a long moment.

This was one of those small but all the more honest moments Oliver had talked about before. Right here, right now there was no romantic setup. There was no corny stuff. It was just him and Felicity which was all that really counted.

“Will you marry me again?”

The question fell from his lips naturally. He had proposed to Felicity so many times before already. It still didn’t feel like a routine, but it felt like a safe thing to do. He could do feel the butterflies in his stomach and the tingling of his skin. There was excitement about the moment, even nervous excitement, and still he felt safe. It was that good way only Felicity could make him feel.

Oliver could his heart beating up into his throat as he waited for her answer. It wasn’t logical to be nervous as they were already married. Still, he felt like his heart was wrapped in tight fetters that would only loosen once he knew her answer was yes.

With a soft smile on her lips, Felicity leaned in. Oliver was already trying to meet her halfway. Before their lips could touch, Felicity put her fingers onto his lips and pushed him away though. She chuckled, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

“You’ve stayed away from alcohol for too long,” she told him, still chuckling and shaking her head. “You are tipsy.”

Before Oliver even realized what had happened, Addie was calling for her mommy over the baby monitor. With a sigh, Felicity got up from his lap.

“Mommy duty is calling me,” she said and walked to the door. Only once she had arrived there, Felicity turned around and added to Tommy, “Don’t give him more alcohol. He’s always getting silly ideas when he’s tipsy.”

With that, Felicity disappeared out of the living room. Only her voice stayed in the room as Felicity was already talking to Addie from the foot of the stairs.

Frowning, Oliver continued to look at the door where he had last seen Felicity. Remembering the amused expression on her face, made him only frown more. Was it that ridiculous that he was asking her to get married to him once more?

They had had three beautiful weddings as they had renewed their wedding vows twice after they had been through some of the toughest challenges of their life together. With everything they had been through these last months, a renewal of their wedding vows seemed more needed than ever.

Oliver looked towards Tommy, who had his lips puckered and was nodding to himself slowly.

“She didn’t realize you were serious, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.” Oliver grabbed his bottle of beer and lifted it to his lips. “I guess I have to go bigger then.”

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