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steves-strapcollection · 1 year

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i can't tell where you end and where i start [WIP WEDNESDAY]

THIS FIC IS COMPLETE AND POSTED!!

READ IT ON MY WRITING BLOG @gerrystamour OR AO3

Intended fic rating: Explicit | Pairing(s): Steve/OMC, eventual Steve/Eddie

So i was possessed to kinda dig into some of Steve's experimentation trips to Indy. This is a spin-off fic related to my fic i could be honest, i could be human and when I start posting, it will be on my writing blog, @gerrystamour and AO3 This fic WILL end with Steddie, obviously (if you've read icbh, you will know where I'm heading with this stuff. This is still very rough and barely edited. Anyway!!! I hope you enjoy!!!

August 1985

The music was loud, bodies pressed close as everyone danced and shoved. Steve had been overwhelmed, scared even, when he’d first arrived, but now he was grinning as he pressed through to the bar.

“What can I get for you, gorgeous?” the bartender asked as he eyed Steve up and down appreciatively. Steve was happy that he was already flushed from dancing so his blush at the compliment wasn’t so obvious.

“Just a Coke, please!” he hollered over the music. “I have to drive back home tonight.”

“You got it, sweetie,” the bartender replied and quickly fixed him a glass.

Sipping at his Coke, Steve turned to lean back on the bar with his elbows and watched the crowd of men and women dancing. It was liberating, seeing men hold each other close and women kissing, and for a second he felt guilty for not bringing Robin. It wasn’t the first time he felt guilty, but he told himself again that it was important he figure some of his shit out on his own.

Immediately upon arriving he had been coaxed out to the dance floor by a young man with strong arms and a broad chest. He was absolutely gorgeous, Steve could easily admit that, and they danced for several songs together. They were eventually separated by the crowd, but that was fine. This was just a bit of an information gathering trip, Steve told himself, he wasn’t actually trying to go home with anyone this time.

As he scanned the crowd, his eyes caught on someone standing a bit away from Steve at a high-top. Steve’s heart stuttered at the long hair, the denim vest over a leather jacket, the ripped pants. But the longer Steve looked, the more features he noticed and relaxed a bit; the man was too tall, too blond, his hair too straight.

That did not change the way Steve’s heart raced when the man waved at him almost coyly.

Steve smiled sheepishly as he sipped his Coke, ducking his head a bit to glance at the man through his lashes.

The grin that came to Steve’s lips when the man immediately crossed the space to the bar was huge, and his breath left him as the man crowded close.

“Hey, handsome,” Steve greeted, the man’s smirk causing a swarm of butterflies in Steve’s gut to take wing. “What can I do you for?”

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the man replied, leaning a hand on the bar and idly stroking Steve’s elbow with his thumb. “You new to town?”

“Just visiting,” Steve replied, shivering at the contact. “You?”

“Born and raised,” he answered, and Steve shivered as the man’s other hand settled on his waist. “I’m Tig.”

Steve smiled, wondering if that was the Tig’s actual name or not. “Steve,” he replied, and Tig’s grin broadened.

He didn’t have dimples, which Steve noted with disappointment that left him feeling a bit guilty.

“Wanna dance, Steve?” Tig asked, which pulled a bit of a shocked laugh from Steve.

“Doesn’t seem like your scene,” he replied as Madonna blared over the speakers.

Tig laughed, and it was soft, almost sweet. “Definitely not,” he agreed, reaching up to brush Steve’s sweaty hair off of his forehead. “Looks like yours, though. Could have a bit of fun here, and if you wanted, I could take you back to my place? Play something a bit more my speed?”

Steve reminded himself that he wasn’t intending to go home with anyone this time, that this was just for information gathering. But he was drawn to Tig. Steve wanted to dance with him, and he was probably going to go home with him.

They danced for what felt like hours, but was really just seven songs before Tig called for a smoke break. Steve happily followed him outside, accepting a cigarette as it was handed to him. Tig lit his own cigarette then Steve’s, holding the lighter between them. They made smalltalk, the conversation easy and fun while they smoked together.

“What do you say we go somewhere a bit quieter?” Tig asked, steel-blue eyes hooded as he gave Steve a once-over. “Unless you want to keep dancing?”

“I think you were going to show me music more your speed,” Steve reminded him, smirking a bit as he shrugged. “Could always keep dancing,” he added teasingly and Tig laughed.

“You’ve no idea what you’re asking for,” Tig said with a quiet chuckle, rolling his eyes.

Steve went back to Tig’s apartment, and it was a mess. On the coffee table, there was a truly impressive bong surrounded by several glasses with various levels of various beverages. There was clothing strewn about as well and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on the table.

“Sorry, my roommates are animals,” Tig grumbled as he took Steve’s hand and pulled him through the mess and into a bedroom. It was much tidier than the main living area and Steve looked around in fascination.

There were several posters on the walls, some clearly from a live show and others likely bought at a record store, all of them of bands Steve had never heard of with strange and even scary imagery. One poster looked familiar, though, but Steve was struggling to place it right away. There were two guitars in one corner of the room, one electric and the other acoustic, and Steve went to look at them closer.

“You play?” Tig asked, and Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“No, not at all. I don’t even sing or anything like that,” Steve replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m more of a jock, you could say.”

“No way,” Tig drawled sarcastically, smirking teasingly.

Steve just laughed and kept looking around. He could hear Tig messing around with the stereo on the other side of the room, but he focused on looking at the shelf of different cassettes and records. Finally, he looked at the bed and he blushed, his heart racing as he seemed to realize where he was.

He was actually in a man’s room, standing next to his bed while the man decided what music to put on.

There was a moment where that feeling almost turned into panic, but then his eyes fell on an old, well-loved tiger stuffed animal. It wasn’t just any tiger either.

Smiling brightly, Steve held it up as he met Tig’s gaze, and there was a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Tigger?” he asked warmly, before gesturing at the man himself. “Tig?”

“You cracked the code, Steve,” Tig replied, giving Steve a one-shouldered shrug as he put a tape in and hitting play.

The soft sound of a guitar played from the speakers and Tig turned it up a touch. Then the man came around the bed to stand directly in front of Steve, smirking down at him. Gently, Tig took the stuffed animal out of Steve’s hands and put it on one of the shelves next to them.

“Not gonna ask for my real name?” Tig asked curiously, and Steve shrugged.

“Was Tig not a real name?” he asked, and Tig grinned at that, as if relieved or something.

“Tig is definitely a real name, or real enough,” Tig confirmed, lifting a hand to cup Steve’s jaw while the other slid around his waist.

There was a moment when Steve realized he was going to have his first kiss with a man, and it was going to be a guy he met only a couple hours ago, and he felt that almost-panicked feeling bubble up inside him again.

But then Tig was kissing him, and it was gentle and sweet, something Steve wouldn’t have expected looking at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve wondered if Eddie would kiss like this too.

Banishing that thought from his mind, Steve deepened the kiss and moaned when their tongues met. To his surprise, Steve discovered that Tig’s tongue was pierced, something he was very curious about. He didn’t realize he actually asked about it aloud until Tig laughed.

“How about I show you, sweetheart?”

TBC

Please consider reblogging if you liked this! Let me know if you want me to add you to the taglist for when it goes live!

Tagging a couple homies who said they wanna be tagged in stuff (let me know if you want to be added to this taglist too??)~*~

@patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa

#stranger things fic wip #stranger things #wip wednesday #steve harrington #steve harrington/omc #i don't know how to tag this shit #gerry writes

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twistedboxy · 1 year

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Written on 2/15/23 on paper but didn't type it up til recently

Lately I haven't felt like myself since I got some news a while back. There are so many things that make me anxious or upset, even stupid little things that are not even part of my control. Last Saturday 2/11/23, I literally had to pull into a parking lot to cry and have an anxiety attack. I have so many thoughts that make me anxious or think about lost things like mom and get upset.

As many of you know I’m the oldest and have two younger sisters. K (28) and M(19). K,me and K’s boyfriend live together as well as my mom before she passed. In Dec, K told me she was pregnant. She’s almost 30 so she can do whatever and I support any of her choices. She’s an adult. She had been nervous to tell me and when she did kinda sent me into a panic about all the things to do.

Luckily there are many wonderful people in my life that quelled most of my worry. You know who you are. I love you all. I’m scared of being an aunt but those who know me think I’ll be wonderful. I’ve slowly been getting excited as well.

We talked again after she finally told our dad. (There’s some emotional trauma between us but that is a different post.) He seemed pretty supportive and excited from what she told me. She brought up a good point about the baby continuing our legacy since it would have just ended at us. That brought up a lot of feelings on how much we both miss our mom. For me it’s tough since I look a lot like her.

I’ve been thinking about experiences that I haven’t had yet. Some of us have talked about what they are. Not going into full detail but would talk in dm. I also think about life and death. I know I'm being vague but I tend to end up in a loop of scaring myself.

I’ve also been bored and frustrated at work. Things have slowed down considerably between closing test sites and putting a hold on files we were scanning. A lot of the stuff that we were scanning was technically done. The original person who they had scanning files was told something completely different or it got jumbled along the way. They also left him to his own devices. We had been helping out on the side to keep busy. Yet they let him go. We got the big scanner for mass documents ordered and set up. My other coworker who was scanning along with me are currently waiting for the one manager to show us what to do.

I’ve also assisted with various file retrieval which I’m quite good at. I have a list that are from one specific company but I’ve been through all that was available in one of the rooms we keep files. The rest of the boxes are wrapped in pallets in the back space with other stuff blocking it. We didn’t think we ever needed to go back to it since we scanned everything. We don’t have the space to move the in front items about to and fro. This is pretty much daily. I get occasional projects or orders from some sites as well as logging Fedex packages. It’s very boring and frustrating. At least when I was scanning I could put on a show and do both. Why do I go?

If you're still reading this, thank you again for hearing me out. It means a lot to me. I don’t make posts like this often.

I’ll post my sister’s registry in a while if you'd like to send something.

#personal #needed to get this out of my system

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nightroo · 1 year

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May or may not have forgotten what I posted here myself months ago so the last post had a few repeats. oops.

Well I know for sure this one won’t because I stopped posting when I started the second semester, which is what this post is about. So the drawing above is the start of working with more complex shapes, using the ones we learned from last semester. This is also where things got interesting, since I could see the potential for architectural drawings.

There are a lot, and I mean A LOT of drawings like these in my sketchbook, I’m gonna show you only the ones I find interesting.

After that we went back a bit for cast shadows, which I have decided are my new mortal enemy in art. A long time ago it was rendering hair, but that’s nothing compared to this.

The amount of calculations you need to do for this and the different formulas for each shape make me wanna rip my hair off. And that’s before getting into more complex shapes.

They're not 100% correct but my teacher said the majority of people won’t notice anything wrong so I shouldn’t worry about it. I won’t until I need it for a personal project, then I’ll get very annoyed again.

After that nightmare I got rewarded with finally using colors to render for the first time!!! I love rendering with colors so I was very excited haha

The copper (right middle sphere) is my absolute favorite, and my teacher really liked it as well.

We also had a small lecture on arrows and ribbons/fabric and we got to render them with colors as well.

For all the colored drawings I used a combination of alcohol markers and colored pencils. The markers melted and blended the pencils and I could use this to mix colors I didn't have. For example, I didn’t have a red marker at all.

After that we had a fun exercise where we needed to either study an object or design our own. The purpose was to use the previous lessons about shapes in perspective, and the rendering of different materials. I went with a gun design, but not just any gun-this one is technically 3 guns, a pistol and an SMG that you can connect and form an assault rifle. So I designed each gun separately (somehow I managed to turn this exercise to designing 3 objects instead of one, leave it to me to make it harder on myself lmao), and thought about how they connect, making sure the chambers kinda align and stuff like that.

I don’t wanna brag but I got the highest grade in the class for this assignment. Mostly because I’m the only one that actually rendered the different materials (or tried to), but also because my teacher liked the idea and thought it was interesting, and something people would actually buy if it was real.

It’s not the best but I literally didn’t have a grey marker so I was pretty limited. I chose a stained-glass theme for some reason, I didn’t want to make it a normal looking gun. The scan made it a bit more contrast-y than it is irl.

After a huge break we came back and had one lesson of silhouettes, something I kinda knew but never went out and made studies of. The challenging part of this was the time limit, at the start we had a minute, but it went down to 30 seconds. We were allowed to go overtime but it wasn't considered good.

On the same lesson, we also had life drawing, using each other as models. We had to get the pose down in one minute, and then take that as a reference for a more detailed drawing. I chose to completely change the context at that point lol

The next lesson was about isometric perspective. I don’t think I’ve actually talked about this here, but I got scammed by a guy who asked me to make him a city island in isometric perspective, then when it came time to pay, he “took a vacation” for two weeks. Came back to tell me he’s definitely gonna pay me. Proceeded to disappear. Anyways I haven’t done isometric from that moment until this lesson, where we were given a prompt word and had to draw an environment following it. I used only colored pencils for this one because I forgot to bring my markers, but it was a nice restriction to only use 12 colors and try to combine them to make the rest. I really enjoyed this one since I got the freedom to make something cool.

(the prompts are top-to-bottom forest, COVID-19, underwater and space) my teacher walked up to my desk to see what I’m doing while I worked on the space one, and he said “you are crazy” every time he passed by. He showed everyone’s work around, and a lot of people liked mine :) The space one is based on a black hole btw, but if it was an eldritch horror.

The last lesson was a time for the teacher to review everyone’s work one by one, so most of the time we were waiting for our turn. He put up a pic of an old camera if any of us wanted to draw it, but I used it as a reference for a building because it reminded me of art deco architecture. After finishing that, I had an idea for a shrine kind of place, inspired by a spot I built for a friend’s minecraft server that we didn’t end up using. And I topped it off with Lykena and Eivrun sketches (that for Eivrun might turn into a full painting when it’s her turn)

The entire year my teacher was occasionally asking me if I’m not getting bored, because we were going through a lot of basics I was obviously proficient at already, but I always found something new to learn, no matter how small, even on topics I practiced a lot before. So I’d say this workshop was very useful for me. And besides, it’s always good to get critiques from a professional, and from people who are interested in art.

#original art #Art Studies #uni work #my teacher was pretty mean but he wasnt mean to me #probably bc i never gave him trouble but also i dont think i look like the person that can take his roasts lmao #i learned a lot about perspective from this year #which is good bc it was a weakpoint for me

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nsokolow · 1 year

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Little Weasel, Big City: Chapter 21

Leilani and Duke were crouched down in the back of the police car. Their eyes barely poked out from the bottom of the window as officers led animals to different police cars, some animals in cuffs.

“Lei, look!” Duke pointed. “It’s PJ!”

Leilani scanned the now-crowded meadow before she easily spotted the somber, brightly-dressed geep, her hooves behind her in cuffs. Leilani felt a pang of guilt. It was wrong for PJ to conduct all these dangerous experiments, especially without the consent of her “test subjects,” but she seemed to really want to make the world safer for animals like her.

“I kinda feel bad too.”

Leilani yelped as she almost fell onto the floor. “You could tell?” She caught herself by grabbing the seat belt.

“Nah, with your droopy ears and sad face, I assumed ya were excited.” Duke chuckled.

Leilani smiled. “Okay, fair enough. I mean, PJ’s probably been through so much, being a hybrid, and she wanted things to be better for other hybrids.”

Duke put a paw on Leilani’s back. “Hey, she’s smart! I mean, at least I guess she is, with all the science and stuff. She’ll probably come up with somethin’ safer.”

“I guess so.” Leilani saw PJ lean into a police van. “Do you think she’ll go to prison? Jail? Probation? Community service? A fine?”

“Lei, I ain’t no expert because I’ve had a bunch of trouble with the law.” Duke frowned.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—“

Duke doubled over with laughter, catching himself on the back of the passenger seat. “I’m just messin’ with ya! But really, I ain’t got any idea what’s gonna happen to her. My crimes were always simple, this is really weird. I do know they tend to go easier on first time offenders, and I’m guessin’ she was, since the chief didn’t act like he found any mugshots when he looked her up.”

Leilani sighed. “At least we can just focus on just our normal jobs now. I hope Travis can find another line of work soon. I wonder how he’ll react once he finds out about the police raid.”

Duke narrowed his eyes as a wide smile spread across his face.

“Seriously, Duke, I wanna thank you so much for gettin’ me the interview with the mailroom boss.”

Duke and Travis both walked down the hallway as Duke pushed a cart full of mail. Travis was in his regular clothes, as he hadn’t get received his uniform.

“No problem. So, the mail is alphabetized by names, and sorted by floors. The stack of mail closest to me is for this floor.” Duke threw an envelope through a cubicle.

“Thanks!” Someone shouted.

“I haven’t been at this job for too long, but everyone’s busy with other stuff, so I was just told to tell ya as much I can and show ya around.”

“So, this is where you and Leilani have been workin’ this whole time?” Travis asked, his eyes traveling everywhere.

“Yeah! What’re the odds that a married couple would get jobs in the same place…the same week they meet?” Duke threw another envelope.

“I can’t believe that those plants were what caused you two to get married. I mean, I know things are workin’ out good, but it coulda turned out really bad. I also shoulda tried to find out why PJ was really makin’ the plants. Sorry, there.”

“Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Duke shrugged. “After all, me and Lei shut the whole thing down only two days ago, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, true.” Travis grabbed an envelope and threw it in a cubicle.

“Hold on, there!” Duke cried. He ran into the empty cubicle and read the envelope. He ran back outside the cubicle and read the name tag. “Huh, it’s the right one. Good job!”

“Thank you.” Travis took a short bow. “So, you know what PJ’s deal is?”

“Leilani looked her up yesterday, and she posted bail. The bail wasn’t set too high, so I assume she ain’t got herself into too much legal trouble.”

“Oh, good, there’s a bathroom up there. Be right back.” Travis dashed ahead and into the men’s room.

“Oh, uh, okay!” Duke continued to push the cart. “I ain’t got much more to tell ya anywa—“

BOOM!

Red dust exploded from the cart as Duke flew backward. His back and head slammed against the rough carpet floor.

“Ugh…what?” Duke grabbed his head and slowly sat up. He saw a bunch of animals standing in front of the knocked-over cart.

A few animals ran up to him and asked if he was okay.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. What happened?” Duke stood up with help of one of the animals.

A moose looked inside the toppled cart. “Looks like someone put a powder bomb in your cart. It’s the latest toy to get recalled after injuries happening. Sorry.”

As the animals dispersed, Duke dropped to his knees and picked up the little red plastic machine. He thought he felt paper under it. He turned the rectangular device over and saw a small piece of paper. It read in black capital letters, “YOU’LL BE SORRY!”

#disney #zootopia #zootopia fanfiction #zootopia oc #duke weaselton #zootopia travis

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

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Under a Paper Moon // Y. B.

Summary: Yelena wants a dog and the girl at the shelter wants Yelena. Both of them are trying to figure stuff out. Life’s kinda hard. Sometimes it’s sweet.

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Female Reader

A/N: I haven’t seen Black Widow but I love Florence Pugh so I had to write something for Yelena. If I get stuff wrong, I’m sorry.

Taglist: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

“Me and you, living under a paper moon This real life just isn't right Let's get away Let's fabricate I'm building a place Something amazing just for the sake of saving us And whatever's left of that little box that beats in your chest “

The first time the blonde girl walks into the shelter, (Y/N) can’t help but notice how much her mannerisms resemble some of the dogs they’re caring for. Her eyes scan the room as if she’s waiting for any kind of threat to jump out at her, to kick her and hurt her and cause her harm. She looks guarded and unsure but ready to fight at any given moment. Like all her trust has been broken and shattered and left her with a reality that is so hard to put back together into something resembling peace and contentment.

(Y/N) knows it’s unprofessional and downright rude to compare actual human beings to her shelter pups. But that’s what working with these animals does to you. It makes you see things in other living creatures that you maybe wouldn’t have noticed before. You learn to read the pain in someone's eyes. And there’s a lot of pain in those gorgeous green eyes of hers.

They’re really pretty eyes. So expressive and full of emotion and with a little sparkle that one could stare at forever and ever and —

“ I want to buy a dog. “

Those are the first words she ever speaks to (Y/N). She speaks with an accent, something Eastern European. Her voice is raspy and deeper than (Y/N) has expected. It suits her, gives her an edge to contradict her gorgeous eyes and that cute little button nose and those round cheeks.

“ Hello? Do you hear me? I said I want to buy a dog! ”

She crosses her arms in front of her body, looks at (Y/N) with an annoyance radiating from her. Her jaw is tight and her lips are pulled into a scowl that is both intimidating and adorable at the same time.

“ Oh — yeah sorry. Of course. A dog, huh? Not sure we can help you with that. “ (Y/N) jokes and faces the blonde with a goofy smile.

“ Was that supposed to be a joke? “ the blonde asks and mockingly raises one eyebrow in question.

“ Did it make you laugh? “ (Y/N) retorts, raising an eyebrow in return.

The blonde regards her for a second, eyes stoic and burning as if she looks straight into (Y/N)’s soul and tries to figure out every little detail there could possibly be to figure out. Judging and unforgiving.

… and then she smiles. It’s small, just the twitch of the corner really but (Y/N) can just about make it out. It’s not an earth-shattering smile. It doesn’t push away clouds to bring out the sun or stop nations from fighting. But it’s a good smile. One that (Y/N) is sure that no matter how insignificant it might seem, she will remember it for a while. Because she put it there.

“ Maybe a little. “

“Well, then it was a joke. I’m (Y/N) by the way. “ she says as she pulls a clipboard from a drawer by the information desk.

“ I know. It says on your nametag. With the kitty cat. “ the blonde woman points out and motions towards the pastel blue name tag with the orange tabby cat drawing clipped to (Y/N)’s shirt.

“ Right yeah, uh — they didn’t have any with dogs left. But I like cats too, so — “

“ It’s cute. “

Those words send a little shiver through (Y/N)’s body. Like tiny shooting stars crossing the sky inside of her veins. Like pop rocks exploding on her tongue. Like confetti cannons shooting from her fingertips.

It’s ridiculous, really. This is just a woman and all she did was compliment her nametag. Strangers aren’t supposed to make you feel like this. (Y/N) has always had this problem. And maybe it was due to watching 500 days of summer one too many times or listening to too much melodic indie rock but there’s a spark of magic inside her. One that bubbles up in her heart and flares through her body. One that believes that love, at first sight, is a thing. That believes in soulmates and happily ever after. One that likes to think that strangers can make you feel like that. Like shooting stars in your veins. Like confetti cannons. Like the world isn’t such a horrible place after all.

But those are just dreams. Silly little fantasies that she has to pull herself from because that’s not what life is like. Reality has very little to do with any of this.

“ Okay then, do you have any idea what kind of dog you are looking for? Have you maybe looked at some of our pups online yet uh — ? “

“ Yelena “

“ Yelena” she likes the way her name falls from her lips. Like it’s meant to be there always. Focus, (Y/N)!

“ Not really. I know I want a big dog. I know the small and fluffy ones get adopted first so I want to give a home to one that maybe people don’t choose first. “

“ That’s a very nice thing to do. You’re very kind, Yelena”

The woman lets out a mixture between a chuckle and a scoff as she averts her gaze to study the speckled linoleum floor “ That’s not something people tend to call me. Usually, they call me irritating. “

There’s something in the way she says it that tells (Y/N) that this isn’t a joke, no matter how much Yelena want’s to make it seem like one. There’s more to this. Pain and hurt and sadness. And she wants to take it away like she tries to do with the pups. But it’s a lot of work and this isn’t a shelter dog. It’s a human being. And none of her business anyway. If only there wasn’t the nagging spark in her heart that wants her to care. So much more than she probably should.

Focus, (Y/N)!

“ So, do you wanna go take a look at the dogs? “

Yelena raises her head again, combs a hand through her blond hair that’s pulled into a messy ponytail, and nods her head in agreement.

“ Yes please. “

The sound of dogs barking excitedly fills the air as (Y/N) and Yelena walk down the long hallway flanked left and right by windows looking into small rooms where the shelter dogs are kept.

There are all kinds of dogs. Small and big ones, fluffy ones, and ones with smooth short fur. There are Pitbulls and chihuahuas and dalmatians and a lot that (Y/N) isn’t quite sure what mix they are but an interesting one for sure.

Yelena’s eyes wander over every pup, staying on them all for a second or two. She gives them all a once over and something tells (Y/N) that if she could, she’d take all of them home to give them a happy and loving new home.

“ What about this one?” Yelena speaks up and only then does (Y/N) notice she stopped walking and is now leaned against the window looking at a brown labrador pit mix curled up into a ball on a blanket in the corner furthest away.

“ Oh, that’s Monkey. “

“ Monkey? “ the blonde questions with a teasing smirk on her lips that make (Y/N)’s cheeks grow warm.

“ I didn’t name her. “

“ She looks so sad. “

(Y/N) steps up next to Yelena and lets her gaze wander towards the dog as well. She’s big and healthy but Yelena isn’t wrong, she looks infinitely sad. Not unlike the woman herself.

“ She was used in dog fights. Some rescuers got a bunch of dogs out of there. Most of them have been adopted out but Monkey is — well she’s special. She doesn’t trust people, understandably, so it takes a lot of work to get her to warm up to you and most aren’t willing to put the time and effort in. Which honestly sucks because once she does warm up she’s the sweetest angel ever. “

For a moment they are left in silence. Well, silence and barks. Lost in their own thoughts, tangled up in the icky feeling of realizing the cruel things people are capable of inflicting on the innocent. Humans and animals.

“ I think I want to try. “

“ With Monkey? “

“ Yeah. I am willing to put in the work. “

“ You sure? “

When she looks up again, she grants (Y/N) another smile. But this one is different, this one pushes away the bitterness in her eyes for just a flicker of a moment. This one is as real as smiles come. And it’s earth-shattering, it brings out the sun and (Y/N) is sure, it could stop a war between nations.

“ I am 100% sure. “

And she keeps her word.

Yelena shows up every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. She brings time and patience and a seemingly endless supply of treats stuffed into the pockets of her vests. She seems to have them in all shapes and colors. The white one is (Y/N)’s favorite.

She doesn’t do much, just sits in a room with Monkey offering her treats and companionship. None of which the dog has yet accepted. But Yelena doesn’t give up. She just extends more patience and kindness towards the dog.

At first (Y/N) just watches them from afar, wishing she could hear what the blonde keeps telling the dog. Because she talks. She tells Monkey stories, none of which (Y/N) can make out from her place by the information desk but stories she so desperately wants to know. Yelena Belova is a mystery, a beautiful dream that leaves you confused the second you wake up. And with every new visit (Y/N) lets herself drift further and further into a fantasy of what-ifs. One that is surely gonna leave her heartbroken. They always do.

Sometimes Yelena stops to talk to her. Mostly about Monkey and (Y/N) can see how hard she tries to gain the dog's trust and how hard it weighs on her that Monkey hasn’t really warmed up yet. And still, she keeps trying.

“ Do you want to come sit with us? “

When those words fall from Yelena’s lips (Y/N) thinks she imagined them. Doesn’t realize they are actually spoken, not just some silly daydream.

“ Huh? “

“ Do you want to come sit with us? If you aren’t too busy right now? I think she likes you, maybe it calms her down to have you there. “

(Y/N)'s heart speeds up a little as if this isn’t just a casual invitation for the dog's sake. Life isn’t a fairytale, (Y/N). This isn’t about you.

“ Oh, yeah okay. “

“ Only if you want to. “

“ I want to! “

It comes out faster than intended and warms up her cheeks in embarrassment but Yelena at least has the decency not to comment on it.

“ Cool. Let’s go “

They sit side by side, backs against the glass window as Monkey mostly ignores their company, only lifting her head up when they enter the room.

“ You think it’s gonna work out? “ Yelena asks as Monkey faces away from them once again.

“ Yes. “

“ That was quick.”

“ Well, I can see the work and effort you put in. You are so patient with her and I know you won’t give up. It’s gonna work out. It’s just a matter of time. “

Yelena chuckles before looking back at the dog. “ I don’t think anyone who knows me would agree with you calling me patient. Think especially my sister will — would’ve disagreed. “

Past tense.

“ I’m sorry. “ Because really, what else can you say? Sorry isn’t enough but it’s the only thing that comes even close to being enough.

“ Mmh,” Yelena replies, lips pulled into her signature scowl/pout mixture before pulling another treat from her vest.

“ How many of those do you carry around? “

“ As many as I can fit into my pockets. “

“ That’s a lot of pockets. “

“ Yeah, “ she says, pride dripping from her words “ and a lot of treats. “

Monkey doesn’t pay them any attention all day and nothing really changes, only something does. Something shifts. From that day on Yelena asks (Y/N) to sit with them every time. And they talk. More. About things other than Monkey. About — about themselves and life and the world. And nothing has changed, only everything did.

“ Where are you from? “ (Y/N) asks her as they once again sit side by side against the glass, shoulders almost touching.

“ Ohio “

“ Ohio, hmmm. Never been, what’s in Ohio.”

“ Corn. Lots of corn. And family. “

“ So what brings you to New York? “

Yelena shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly “ Work? Grief? Not sure, honestly. New York seems very big and no one knows me so I can be whoever I want to be. “

“ It is very big. The window in my apartment has a great view of the city and it’s — it’s massive. “

“ Do you sometimes sit there and look at it and wonder where you fit in ? Like where your place is in all of this? “ Yelena asks, fumbling with the clasps of her vest.

“ Only all the time. I sit there with my dog and wonder what the hell I am doing. “

Yelena turns to her, eyes gleaming with surprise and excitement. “ You have a dog? “

“ Yup. A Beagle. Her name is Junebug and she has only 3 legs but her ego and appetite make up for it. “

The smile falls from Yelena’s face and (Y/N) swears she can just about make out a red tint dusting her cheeks “ So where is she when you’re here? Does your boyfriend look after her? “

To say butterflies are swarming her stomach is an understatement. There’s a flock of birds. A murder of crows tearing up her insides in the best way possible. It’s brutal but damn if she doesn’t wish to feel more of it.

“ No boyfriend. No girlfriend either. She stays with my elderly neighbors, they love her and they let her run around in their garden all day. “

The way Yelena looks at her then, it feels like the world might just stop for a second. Like time slows down to allow her to get lost in Yelena’s eyes. Find all the answers she’s ever been looking for right there. Find where she belongs.

And then, almost as if she realizes what a special moment this is, Monkey slowly inches towards them and plops down next to Yelena, resting her head on the woman’s thigh enjoying the first pets and cuddles in a long time.

“ You know when you asked me if I knew where my place was? “ (Y/N) asks, which earns her a nod from Yelena, whose eyes are visibly clouded over with tears. “ I think Monkey just found hers. “

The day Monkey leaves the shelter is both a sad and a happy one.

Happy because she finally fell in love with Yelena and now gets to go to a loving home where she will be spoiled and loved and cared for. Forever.

Sad because she’s not the only one who fell in love with Yelena. With Monkey gone, there’s no reason for the blonde to come back to see (Y/N). This is a goodbye to more than just a dog and a client.

“ We are ready to go,” Yelena exclaims as the dog stands by her side, happily wagging her tail and looking up at the woman with admiration and gratitude in her eyes.

With one last cuddle or the dog, (Y/N) faces Yelena and tries her best to muster up a convincing smile. “Well you guys, I wish you all the best. I’m sure you’ll do great together. And I uh — I hope you find your place. “

Yelena smiles back and nods, her blond hair swaying with the movement “ I hope you find yours. “

And when they leave (Y/N) can’t help but shed a few tears for all the what-ifs that will stay what-ifs forever. Because life isn’t a fairytale. Life fucking sucks sometimes.

A few days later the bell above the door chimes up signaling a new client.

“ Hi there, how can I help — Yelena? “

She stands before (Y/N), nervously fidgeting with her hands, eyes moving to the floor then back to (Y/N). Something is — off.

“ Is everything alright? “

“ Yes. Everything’s good. I just — I was wondering if we could hang out with our dogs. I think Monkey would like a friend and you said you had a dog so, “ she trails off. Of course, this is about the dogs. You’re a fool (Y/N). It’s all nice dreams. It’s not reality.

“ Yes, sure. Of course. Do you want to come over to my place? June is pretty mellow I’m sure they will get along just fine. “

Yelena nods enthusiastically and a few small smiles are shared between the girls as (Y/N) writes down her address and they agree on a time.

It’s only when she is about to step out into the sun, that Yelena turns back around and this time her eyes only focus on (Y/N) and (Y/N) alone.

And then she speaks.

“ I miss you. I’m sure Monkey is excited to see you too but this isn’t only about her. I miss you and I would love to hang out. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ Okay, so it’s a date? “

It feels like the movies, the romance novels, the love songs. It feels real for the first time in her life.

“ It’s a date!”

“ I guess it’s safe to say those two get along like a house on fire “ (Y/N) says as she sits down next to Yelena on the bench by her window overlooking the sparkling NYC skyline.

Monkey and Junebug are cuddled up together on the couch, sleeping contently after playing with each other all day, chasing one another and playing fetch, and just being the happy dogs they deserve to are.

“ That’s a weird saying.“ Yelena notes but there’s a fondness shining through her as she too looks at the dogs before taking a sip from the bottle of beer clasped in her hand.

“ It is, now that you mention it.”

“ I’m glad Monkey is happy. She deserves all the love “

“ She does,” (Y/N) agrees before turning fully towards Yelena “ you do too, you know? “

The blonde turns around, faces the wide city before her all sparkling with lights and buzzing with life.

“ This is the first time in my life where I don’t have anyone telling me what to do or where to go. I get to choose my own path and it’s liberating but it’s terrifying. I don’t even know where to start. I still don’t know where my place in all this really is.”

“ Did you have a good time today? Did you like our date? “ (Y/N) asks as her shoulders graze (Y/N)’s.

“ I had the best time! “ Yelena exclaims “ even though your jokes are horrible. “

“ They’re not!”

“ Oh, they are bad.”

The girls lose themself in a flurry of laughter that turns to giggles that turn to quick breaths taken in sync.

“ You know, I can’t tell you where your place is or what to do next. But there’s a pretty big patted bench in my apartment, in front of my window and you’re very welcome to sit there with me while you figure it out. “

Softly (Y/N) traces her fingers over Yelena’s hand that rests between the two of them. Almost like approaching a timid dog, gentle and delicate as if to not scare her away. Her heart is beating so loudly she bets Yelena can hear it. Hell, all of New York City probably can. But sometimes the scary things, no matter how small, are the most important ones.

She slides her fingers in between Yelena’s and for a moment she wonders if she overstepped her boundaries. Then she feels a slight pressure as Yelena’s fingers intertwine with hers and squeeze her hand in affection.

It’s just hand-holding and to a lot of people this might seem silly but to the two of them it means everything. Yeah, maybe life isn’t a fairytale but there are moments like this one that make it all worth it. It’s better. It’s real. It’s worth fighting for. Maybe, (Y/N) thinks, maybe they don’t need to have it all figured out. Maybe all they need is to hold each other’s hand as they try to navigate it.

And maybe along the way, it’ll turn out that their place is right here. Together.

“ You know. That sounds like a really good plan. You and I and Monkey and Junebug. “

As those words leave her lips, Yelena softly leans her head against (Y/N)’s shoulder and places a soft kiss against her skin, barely a whisper of a touch. But it’s there and it says “I’m here” and it says “this is where I belong.”

And sometimes that’s all a kiss needs to be.

A promise to stay.

#Yelena Belova x Reader #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x f!reader #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova fanfic #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova imagines #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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harrysgoldenline · 3 years

Text

When In Italy Part 4

here is part 4! Um this chapter has bad words and some adult themes so warning for that! The next part will be the last, so let me know what you think! Are they end game or no? Also! If you want a personalized imagine, check out my pinned post! If you want to support me ---> please click here! every little bit helps bc im a broke ass college student so thank u to anyone who wants to support me :)

All comments and feedback are welcome and encouraged!! :)

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

You stood frozen as he stepped out of the elevator, his eyes soft as he met yours, waking towards you.

“Get away from me.” you whisper, attempting to push past him and get into the elevator, pressing the door closed button before even pressing a floor, not wanting him to get any closer.

“Y/N, wait!” he rushed, sticking his hand between the doors and stopping it, his tall frame standing before you that you quickly push past, going back to lock yourself in your apartment, and lock him out, “Please, let me explai-“

“No!” you stopped, voice firm as you turned to face him, “you can’t keep doing this! you can’t keep showing up like this! So just leave me alone.”

You kept walking, ignoring his pleas as he came after you, successfully unlocking your apartment door rapidly, but you catch a glimpse of rings as he hand stops the door.

“Please.” He whispered, not pushing the door open and you saw a flicker of his eyes and you could almost see the sincerity in them, “I know I don’t deserve it, I really don’t, but I would just love to talk to you for real this time, anything you want to know.”

“and you’re not gonna be an asshole this time?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, peaking at him, “because if you are, I swear to god Styles I will give you 5 seconds to get the fuck out.”

“Promise.” He nodded and your heart believed him, so you opened the door.

You watched as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, slowly entering your apartment and you didn’t miss how his eyes scanned you quickly, before bouncing around the apartment, looking around the space he used to be so familiar with.

You watched how he headed to the couch about to sit but stutter stepped a bit, scratching the back of his neck and looking at you, almost asking you if it’s okay if he sits down.

You gave him a soft smile and nod, tucking a loose hair behind your ear and sitting on one side of the couch, thankful he sat on the other, giving you each plenty of space as your eyes met. The tension was slowly rising, looking at each other as you sat, wondering who was going to break the silence.

“I never meant for anything to happen.” he whispered, his head falling as a shameful look covered his face, avoiding your eyes, “After the breakup… I- I was just lost. I was messing up at work and I just was doing shit. Then, it was like only like a month ago, I was getting drunk all the time and she just came into my trailer and we were talking and then she kissed me.”

You just nodded, biting your bottom lip and picking at your nails, peaking up and looking at him, your glossy eyes meeting his bloodshot ones, not really having anything to say in response.

“And I just…” he started, “I wanted to feel better, feel anything. So, we just started hanging out more and I just really wanted to feel something, feel a connection. So we took a trip to Italy because… It’s always been a place that made me feel better and then…”

“Yeah.” you chuckled, “and then… Why did you bring her to our house? I know we haven’t talked about that kind of stuff, but it’s mine too Harry and… just seeing you two there? I never felt more replaceable than I did when I saw you two.”

“Oh love, no.” He whispered, scooting closer to you, a hand coming up to cup your face to help your eyes meet, but he retracted it back before he made contact with your skin, “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry and I will never be able to prove to you, but that was never my intention to ever hurt you. The breakup was a mistake.”

“I… How am I supposed to believe that?” you squeaked, voice cracking as the barrier breaks, tears falling on your cheeks as you looked up at him, “We we’re together for years and you just- I mean fuck Harry! I haven’t even thought about even starting to flirt with someone and you’re…”

“We’ve never had sex,” He quietly added cheeks turning a bit red, “or done anything like that. At all, I just… couldn’t.”

Your eyes widen a bit at the confession, watching as he looked at his hands, a slight twinge of embarrassment on his features.

“Oh.” you whispered, “I know I shouldn’t be mad, we… we aren’t together and you have have the right to do whatever you want but it’s just… hard. Especially when I wasn’t expecting it. I went to Italy to try and get away, everything in the city makes me think of you, I don’t know why I thought staying at the house would be any better but, I just wanted to get away.”

“Sorry I ruined your trip.”

“Sorry I ruined your hookups.”

He let out a laugh, the smile staying a bit longer when he noticed you had subconsciously scooted a bit closer to him.

“It’s not like I ever really wanted to… Even little Harry only wants you.” he flirted and an instant, loud laugh leaves your lips, leaning forward and your brace yourself on his shoulder, a simple thing you had done over the years countless times, but still made his heart skip a beat.

“Oh my god,” you said between breathless laughs, your bodies now less then a foot apart as you smiled up at him, “please do not call it little Harry!”

“What do you prefer?” He smirked, “rather I call it bi-“

“What the fuck?” a voice spoke suddenly, both of your red eyes going to your front door and seeing your best friend standing their, her eyes wide in a mix of confusion and anger. Your hand retracted from his body quickly, your best friend looking at you with soft eyes, her eyes darting over to Harry’s and you see the fiery anger behind them, “Y/N, please tell me he was getting whatever shit he left behind and is leaving.”

“We were just talking.” You started, glancing over at Harry, seeing a bit of fear behind his eyes and your lips quirked up in a smile that quickly faded seeing the anger in y/bff/n eyes.

“What do you want to talk to him about? How he broke your heart again?” She asked, confusion and concern laced in her voice, “I’m sorry, y/n, I just… I can’t watch you go through all of it all over again and again.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he quickly stood up beside you giving you a quick nod as he glanced over at y/bff/n the back at you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just showed up. It was so good to see you, y/n, I’ll get out of your way.”

“Harry, wait!” you stood up, hating the softening in your voice, “I want to talk more… are you staying or do you have to go back to L.A?”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me. And if you want me gone, I’ll book my flight. Okay? It’s up to you, whatever you want.”

“Okay… Can I call you later?”

“You can call me anytime, I’ll pick up.”

***

Y/bff/n definitely wasn’t thrilled with you.

“I just feel like this is a bad idea, y/n!” She had exclaimed once Harry had left your apartment, “He’s gonna hurt you again! What could he possibly want?”

“I dont know, I just… I dont know.” You sighed, sitting across from her on your couch just like you did with him, “I love him and I don’t know what’s going to happen but I don’t want to end up hating him.”

She nodded, looking at you as your eyes glazed over again, “Hey, okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you upset. Do you still wanna go try this new place or just hang out here? Let’s get your mind off of everything, you need a break, yeah? Especially if you’re going to talk to him later.”

“Do you think I should?"

“If that’s what you think, I think you should. You know him.” She nods, “but I swear to god if he makes you cry again he’ll have to deal with me.”

So now, here you were, waiting on him to come back to finish your talk from earlier. It was helpful hanging out with y/bff/n, listening to her advice as she gave you a bit of the reality check that you needed, making sure he won’t sweep you off your feet with his familiar charm.

Your heart rate never fully calmed down as you waited for him to come back to your apartment after y/bff/n dropped you back off after your afternoon together and you were glad for the few hours of a distraction, but now your mind was fully occupied with him once again as you sat on your couch.

The knock on your door caused you to jump, hoping up and checking your appearance in your hall mirror before swinging open the door, seeing Harry standing their with a bouquet of flowers, a small smile on his face.

“Got these for you,” he began, “shoulda showed up with them when I kinda crashed into you earlier… but I was so nervous I didn’t think about it, honestly.”

“Thank you.” You softly replied, eyeing up at him and taking them from his grip, letting out a shaky breath as you welcome him in and turn on your heel, going to your kitchen to place them into a vase quickly before going back to him, seeing him in the same spot you two were sitting in earlier.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry again… and thank you for letting me come back and talk to you at all, really don’t deserve your time, but I’m thankful for it.” He began, eyes glued onto yours as he scooted closer to you when you sat down, his fingers tentatively trailing on your arm before laying his hand on your own, “I… I want you back, y/n. I want to be with you, I never stopped wanting just you.”

“Harry, I… I don’t know what to say.” You started, “I just… there’s so much still up in the air and it’s all happening so fast. Are you still with Olivia?”

“No, of course not.” He instantly answered, “we were never anything real, I left Italy when I went to the house and you were gone. I came back here and I just… I would sit outside your building in my car and just try and get the nerve to walk in to talk to you, but I was so scared of you telling me to leave again.” Harry started deep into your eyes as he continued, his own welling up with tears, “I love you so much and I was such an idiot and fuck baby… I’ll do anything to prove it you.”

Now, you two were just inches apart, his hand cupping your cheek as you leaned into it, eyes glued onto his eyes as both of your gazes were glassy, sets of eyes wandering down to one another’s lips. Your eyes fluttered up and looked at him, his nose nudging into yours, seeming to test the boundary and you simply nodded, causing him to connect your lips in an instant.

Your lips met softly, gaining speed as the passion overflowed you both as the familiar move came back easier than either of you could have imagined. You both moaned into one another’s mouths, his tongue quickly sliding past your lips as your crawled onto his lap, fingers gripping the soft material of his shirt.

Things escalated quickly as he carried you into your bedroom, body hovering over yours as his body pressed against yours, the articles of clothing disappearing piece by piece, lips never separating a second longer than they had to you as you refamilarized yourselves with one another.

His fingers dug their way into your waist as he kissed you harder, singular pieces of thin material being the only things separating you and as Harrys fingers slipped down, pulling back and looking up at you for permission, your breath caught in your throat, reality hitting you like a wave.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered, fingers removing themselves from his hair as you covered your face, voice wavering as tears welled up in your eyes once again, “I-it’s all too much, too fast- I-I, I don’t think I can do this, Harry- I can’t.”

“Fuck, it’s okay.” He whispered, crawling off from on top of you, scrambling to pick his t shirt off the floor and handing to you, quickly covering your body with it, “Fuck, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

You nodded quickly, knees tucking into your chest as you let out soft cries, flinching as his arm came around you, going to comfort you with the soft stroke of his arm and retracted it quickly after seeing your reaction.

“I-I… I just keep seeing you and her in my head.” You whispered, “…I don’t know if I can do this.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles masterlist #harry styles series #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles headcannon #harry styles fanfic #bucky barnes

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the-slytherin-writer-12 · 2 years

Note

bucky's first christmas season post endgame and finds out his cute ass neighbor is lonely too and they spend entire of december filled w/traditions and aa super fluffy ending upto you??

Omg this is so cute! Thanks for requestion anon!! I sort of tweaked it, but it’s sorta the same idea.

‘Tis the Season (for love)

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing?

A/N: this is kinda an AU. Before WandaVision and TFATWS and Hawkeye..before all of the spin-off series.

Marvel Masterlist

General Masterlist

Bucky had no idea what was happening. He was at the newly rebuilt Avengers Compound, figuring he might as well make friends. Steve had be incessant about it.

He stood in the common room, watching as Christmas lights were floating up towards the ceiling, curtesy of Wanda. He had his arms crossed, the lights reflecting on his vibranium arm.

“Come on, Pops. Have some holiday cheer!” Sam joked, clapping Bucky on the back. Bucky jolted forward and turned to glare at Sam.

“First of all, it’s not even Thanksgiving. Second of all, I do. I’m just trying to figure out everything, Wilson. Haven’t exactly had a normal Christmas in a few decades,” Bucky grumbled. Sam scoffed and brought his drink up o his lips.

“Ok, ok. Whatever you say, Gramps.”

Bucky glared at Sam’s back as he walked over to Natasha. He watched as Natasha took Sam’s drink and downed it, with Sam groaning and walking away.

Bucky then noticed that Decorating was done. Lights and garland were strewn over all surfaces. A giant tree sat in the corner, adorned with ornaments. Each member had a ornament to represent them. Even the Spider-kid had one.

Steve noticed Bucky’s brooding, so he walked away from where he was listening to Tony ramble to Clint and Thor about something Morgan did.

“What’s wrong, Buck?”

Bucky glanced at Steve and shook his head, sighing slightly.

“Nothing, Steve. Just thinking,” he said quietly. Steve walked to stand beside him and threw his arm around the brunette’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you go home and sleep,” Steve said softly and knowingly. Bucky nodded and hugged Steve.

—————————————————————-

Bucky rode along the New York streets on his bike. Tony had offered a new Buick, or even a Ferrari, but Bucky kindly refused. He chose a motorcycle instead. There was just something about the thrum of the engine beneath him. It had a calming effect. The wind on his face never failed to soothe him too. It made him feel, even just for a fleeting moment, that everyone was fine.

As he neared his apartment building, he noticed a car sitting in his normal parking spot. He scowled but parked beside it. He turned the engine off, took off his helmet, and swung his legs off the bike.

While scanning the car (because of his paranoia), he noticed it belonged to a woman, or very feminine man. It had a leopard print steering wheel cover, a perfume-like air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror, and a purse sitting in the front seat.

He shook his head and walked up to the building, while fishing out his keys from his leather jacket. He walked into the lobby, being hit by a rush of cold air as the automatic doors opened. The bellhop greeted him with a bright smile, to which Bucky responded with a tight lipped almost-grimace. He walked to the elevator and pressed his floor number.

The elevator music was almost sickening. He grumbled about it all the way up to his floor. After the door dinged open, he practically raced down the hall. Once he rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks. A young woman, probably around his age, maybe younger, was outside what he assumed was her door.

She turned his way and he realization hit him. His eyes widened.

It was his best friend…. from the ‘40s.

“Y/N?” He breathed. The woman’s eyes widened and she dropped her stuff.

“Bucky,” she almost whimpered.

They ran towards each other and launched themselves into a strong embrace. She wrapped herself around him like a koala, wrapping her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. Bucky wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her back, his flesh hand weaving itself into her hair and keeping her close.

“Oh Y/N/N, oh doll,” he whispered into her hair. Y/N pulled back and cupped his face. She admired his features, running her fingers over his beard. He looked tired, older. But his eyes hadn’t changed. “How are you here?”

Y/N laughed and gave him a watery smile.

“After you and Stevie..left, Howard developed cryogenic chambers, similar to how you were kept young with Hydra. I was in a really bad place and Howard saw my condition. I guess it was a gift back to me after introducing him to Maria,” she chuckled. Bucky set Y/N down and grinned down at her. He kissed her forehead.

“Where have you been all this time?” He asked, messing with her fingers.

“I was in the chamber until last year, after Thanos. The people who had me, I think it was the Wakandans, decided not to wake me until after. They knew it was no situation to wake up to,” she explained. Bucky nodded and smiled again.

“I’m just glad you’re back. We’ve got to tell Steve.”

——————————————————————-

Weeks passed, and Bucky and Y/N got back into a flow. They often stayed at each other’s apartment, mostly for Bucky’s sake. Y/N could tell that he was not okay mentally. She could tell that he wasn’t sleeping at night.

They helped each other decorate their apartments. Neither of them were very up-to-date with traditions and customs. Steve showed up multiple times, overjoyed that he had both of his best friends back with him.

They sat in Y/N’s apartment drinking hot chocolate, but spiked with alcohol. Steve sat in the arm chair, passed out from his day. Bucky and Y/N sat on the couch in front of her fireplace. She was leaving into his side with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He asked softly and glanced down dr her. His hand moved to play with her hair, something he remembered she liked from their time together as kids.

“Nothing, really. Nothing at all. I’m just happy I have both of my best friends back,” she smiled and looked up at him. Bucky smiled and kissed her forehead.

“Me too. I don’t think a day went by that I didn’t think of you two,” he trailed off. The unspoken ‘unless I was being controlled’ lingered in the air.

Y/N moved out from under his arm and turned around to face him. Bucky’s eyebrows furled as she moved. He watched as his arm reached up and ran through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

“I missed you so much,” he groaned. Y/N smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. But, he turned his head towards her and their lips met in a quick kiss. They quickly jumped back and stared at each other.

“I’m so sor-“ she started but was cut off by him seizing her arms and bringing her closer. He planted his lips on her and closed his eyes.

Y/N’s eyes widened but she slowly melted into the kiss. Both of her arms wrapped around his neck and his wrapped around her waist. She sat up on her knees to get level with him and to prevent a strain on his neck. Slowly, their lips moved in sync.

They pulled back when oxygen was a necessity, but kept their lips not far from each other’s. Bucky was smiling so hard his face hurt.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” he whispered against her lips. Y/N pecked his lips once again.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel au #mcu x reader #avengers x reader #bucky x reader fluff

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sugamamacustard · 3 years

Text

Let Me Help You (Part. 2)

Pairing: Alpha! Toru Oikawa x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Issei Matsukawa x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Takahiro Hanamaki x Omega! Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, Hurt/comfort.

Request: Oh boy, here we go!

Anon: hi!! can we get more of the omega depression drabbles/one shots? i would really like to see mattsun’s version and other characters you can think of!! the more angsty the better ;)p.s. luv your writing <3 also stay healthy, safe, and drink water !!

Anon: Can you make part 2 of let me help you please. if not it’s fine with Mattsun and Makki

Anon: Could you do part 2 for the let me help you with makki and mattsun please if not that’s fine this is also my first time requesting something so i’m kinda nervous💕

(Don’t be nervous at all, you did amazing!)

Anon: Mamas, can I order a continuation of let me help you?? Please?? I need some fluff after that hurt 💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺

(Mamas anon! :DDD)

Anon: omg i love the omega depression!! please continue with the rest of the third years or a pt 2 with oikawa’s !! i love your writing!!

@bohica160: Could we possibly get a part 2 with Oikawa please? 👉 👈 🥺

And I think that was all? You guys just really wanted this, and who am I to deny you?

Summary: Because of unseen circumstances, you drop, and you drop hard. How does your alpha help you/redeem himself?

Author’s Note: I kinda wanna post some self-indulgent OC stuff on here, but idk. It’s kinda crack-y and stupid. Also, we love to see a healthy relationship. Like Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s are so soft. Also, also, please note Hanamaki’s is heavily based off of my own experience with depression and the events after with my best friend, whom I will love and cherish forever.

Requests: Open!

Part 1: Here!

➵ You drop was actually out of anyone’s control.

➵ Omega drops rely heavily on hormone balances, much like depression, and it seemed like this month just wasn’t your month.

➵It was hard to exactly pin point when it got bad, or when you started experiencing symptoms, as they were slow and not necessarily noticeable.

➵A missed lunch here, a small scent shift there.

➵Small things that neither you nor Takahiro would notice.

➵It was much like a rollercoaster, inching higher and higher until the drop would come.

➵ Honestly, both of you thought you were fine, and since you were around both of your mutual friends (The Seijoh Team) enough no one could really point it out.

➵ It truly was a bad situation all around.

➵ You only really began noticing after a few days of ignoring lunch in a row.

➵ It hit you when you were sitting in the library, stomach clutching with hunger as you scanned through a textbook.

➵ You attempted to get up and go find Takahiro to go get something to eat, but you just...didn’t.

➵ You couldn’t find the energy to stand, much less walk, and just stayed seated

➵ You just couldn’t move.

➵Like a million bags of sand were tied to your hips weighing you to the chair.

➵ You swallowed tightly, rolling your shoulders before stuffing your text book into your bag, trying to breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.

➵Deep breaths. Thats what you needed to focus on right now.

➵ But then you couldn’t. You were hyperventilating, and white-knuckling the edge of the table as your vision turned blurry and watery.

➵ The cramping from your hunger combined with the sudden rush of emotions made you want to vomit.

➵ Before you could, you slung your backpack over your shoulder, bolting out of the library.

___

Laughter and chuckles were heavy as Takahiro gave a hearty chuckle at something Matsukawa said, shaking his head before taking a swig from his energy drink. His eyes darted to his phone every now and again, just checking to make sure you didn’t need him.

You would always come first to him.

When his screen lit up with your beaming face shining up at him, he quickly swiped to accept holding it to his ear, watching while the team laughed at Oikawa, who was shielding himself from Iwaizumi.

“Hiro?”

“Shooting star?” His brows furrowed as he slowly began cleaning his stuff, straightening himself up so he could leave as soon as possible if you needed him; which, guessing by your home, you did.

“I-I think something’s wrong.” You paused, making his heart drop. “I don’t know, but I think I need to go to the doctor, but, I know this is a lot so feel free to say no, can you-”

He didn’t let you finish. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up and drive you. Do you need me to call and book an appointment?”

A few of his packmates turned with worried eyes, trying to send a non-verbal question. Well, for most of them. Oikawa was trying to whisper-yell his questions, Iwaizumi trying to shut him up.

“I’m at the front of the school. I’ll just meet you at your car.”

“I’ll be right there, shooting star. Stay safe, okay? I love you, and I’ll see you soon Omega.” Takahiro waited for your reciprocation and own farewell before hanging up, quickly standing and swinging his leg over the bench and grabbing his bag.

“Makki-kun, is Y/N-chan okay?!” Oikawa screeched after him, actively crawling onto Iwaizumi, who looked like he was ready to commit first-degree murder.

Makki threw up a thumbs up behind him, waiting till he was out of the cafeteria before sprinting towards the parking lot.

He hoped, with every inch of his body, he didn’t lie to his captain.

___

“Take your pills.”

“Alpha, they taste horrid-”

“I don’t care, they make you feel better.”

Takahiro watched you carefully, handing you two of the teal and white pills. The alpha was strict on very few things with you, but your health he did not fuck with.

The appointment with your doctor went fine, with minimal blood work done, and you were sent off with a prescription for hormone balancing pills. You and Takahiro (Who was absolutely divine during the entire thing) were explained how the pills worked and why you dropped, all of which was simple enough to understand. Since then, Takahiro was insistent on you taking the pills in front of him.

“Open.” Takahiro demanded, watching as you stuck your tongue out. He moved your head by your chin, checking the very corners of your mouth. “Lift your tongue.”

You did so, showing nothing. He hummed in approval, letting go of your chin before pausing, pulling you close so you could hear his heartbeat.

“Thank you for caring, Hiro.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling into your alpha’s neck, taking in his scent.

“Thank you for telling me about this and letting me help you.” He responded, pressing a sweet peck to your temple and reminding himself you were still here in his arms. And would be with him for a long, long time.

➵ Your drop was a mix between miscommunication and little whispers in your ear.

➵ Honestly, there was a reason you were in a pack with minimal other omegas.

➵ They grew catty and mean and vindictive if there was something they didn’t like.

➵It was one of their many flaws and strengths.

➵You yourself had caught yourself bad-mouthing another omega to your alpha every now and again.

➵ Though you hated doing it, at some point it was just second nature.

➵ You and Issei had good communication though, and very rarely did something as silly as jealousy come between you two.

➵ whenever something was bothering you or your alpha you would talk it out.

➵ You both trusted each other completely.

➵ If something felt off about another person, you were quick to mention it to the other.

➵ However, sometimes things got complicated.

➵ Insecurities seeped through your walls that Issei kept strong for you.

➵And sometimes, small little whispers became hurdles and boulders pounding against your defenses and breaking them down.

➵Leaving you open and stumbling.

➵ And sometimes, because of this you forgot that you had back-up, an artillery that would fight for you at the drop of a hat.

➵ And those moments, that ones were you were caught with your tail between your legs and ass in the air waiting to be fucked over, were when you truly crumbled.

➵And though it broke you down and made you hurt, your artillery had your back.

___

“Issei, I was-”

You bit your tongue as you were roughly shoved to the side by Akina Harakashi, the omega throwing herself at your alpha. His face remained unmoved and his arms by his side.

She was his science partner for the semester, and though Issei reassured you she was nothing more, you couldn’t help but internally whine at how she acted with him. It was no secret that she liked him, but since you and Issei kept you relationship on the down low, rumors were bound to pop up.

And though you didn’t let it show, they poked and prodded at you. Make your skin crawl as you ventured deep into your own mindset. Thoughts that would plague your every move and drive your omega into overdrive as they tried fixing whatever you picked on in your own reflection.

You shivered as she looked up to Matsukawa, who was busy focusing on entering his locker combo.

“Mattsunnnn~ I’ve missed you!” Her voice was literal nails on a chalkboard to you.

“I saw you twenty minutes ago.” Matsukawa hissed as his locker popped open. “I haven’t seen you recently though, pretty thing.”

Your omega purred as Issei grabbed his textbook, closing his locker and pushing past Akina. He smirked down at you, intertwining your pinkies in the most discreet way possible before walking you to class.

You glossed over his question when he asked you how lunch went.

___

“Do you think Harakashi and Matsukawa are dating?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, have you seen how she hangs off of him?”

“I think they’d make such a cute couple!”

“If Matsukawa doesn’t ask her out soon, he’ll loose her.”

You kept your head down and scent blocking collar tight as you slowly crept through the hallway, exit in front of you. Honestly, you didn’t have the energy to continue on with the day, so you were leaving it the midst of lunch, where you could loose yourself in the crowd and disappear.

You wanted nothing more than your alpha, but his last message had your eyes stinging.

‘Harakashi asked me to meet her at lunch, so I won’t be able to see you. Eat something. At this point, I’ll even take junk food. Just get some food. I’ll see you after school.’

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, but it stung you deeply. This was it. This was the downfall of your and your alpha’s relationship. You were blown off for Akina Harakashi at long last.

The rational part of you wanted to defend Matsukawa, but every time you tried, the insecurities that had been bubbling within you spit towards the rational part of you and your omega, throwing any redeeming thought into the corner to rot.

A part of you was angry. Angry with Matsukawa for letting this happen. Angry with yourself for not speaking up. Angry with your fucking stomach which groaned for food of any sort. Livid with Akina for trying to steal Mattsun.

Angry at the world.

You couldn’t really remember the last time you ate anything besides...air. The days all blurred together in one miserable run.

“What did I say?”

You glanced over at Matsukawa, heart leaping at the jump he gave you appearing out of nowhere, leaning on the wall beside you. You huffed, turning away from him and leaving him to follow after you. He did so, jogging a bit to catch up.

“You said I’d see you after school. This is not after school.” You snapped, growling at the alpha. He raised a brow, either in disbelief at your attitude or amusement.

“Omega. I said eat. This doesn’t look like eating.” His longer legs gave him the chance to cut in front of you, face now set in anger.

“You also said you had to meet with Harakashi. So scurry along to your new play thing.” You shoved past Matsukawa, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes.

“What are you talking about?!” Issei smartened up, grabbing your wrist when you tried leaving him behind yet again, now visibly irritated. Truth be told, he was meeting up with Harakashi to put an end to her insistent clinginess. To put her in her place, beneath you.

She tried confessing to him before he even looked up, coming into the room with her arms outstretched already, yelling about ‘I knew you felt the same’ or something . He dodged her, sneering down at her and snapping at her to leave him alone or he’d go through the semester alone (Which he already talked to the teacher about, but she didn’t need to know about that).

Hanamaki had been his eyes when he wasn’t there, reporting back to Matsukawa with updates on you. His latest? You had been missing from lunch for the better part of the week, and last he saw you were ditching the last half of this day.

Which Matsukawa wasn’t letting happen, because if you went home right now, you wouldn’t come back. And he couldn’t live with himself if he let you drop.

“I was meeting with Harakashi to tell her to piss off. You’re my omega. Why in the hell would I even want someone like her when I already have you? You are mine, and I fought for you. I don’t need a corner worker.”

Any fight you had in you disappeared when you saw the small tears glazing your alphas eyes, making your own break free as you ran into his chest. His arms locked around you, holding as if you would slip away if his grip loosened.

Which you just might’ve. Good thing he wasn’t planning on letting you slip.

“Wanna go get food?”

“...Yea. Can we get nuggets?”

“Anything for my pretty omega.”

➵ Okay this one is super short, and I’m sorry! I just wanted to get this out for you guys!

➵ And I think you guys wanted a follow up of sorts for Oikawa.

➵So here it is!

➵ Things didn’t improve over night.

➵It took awhile, but it was worth it.

➵ In time you and Oikawa reached a nice equilibrium.

➵ He wore his bond mark loud and proud and you made sure to tell him when you were uncomfortable with his fangirls and how close they were getting.

➵ In turn, you learned to slowly let go of any reservations you had on his loyalty.

➵He wouldn’t have marked you if he didn’t want to devote his entire being to you.

➵ This showed up when a girl, who you despised (With no hard feelings, since she hated you just as much) tried confessing to Oikawa.

➵Toru, baby boy, shut her down the minute she opened her mouth.

➵ He didn’t even look her way, instead searching for you and quickly brightening up when he saw you.

➵ If he had a tail it would’ve been wagging.

➵ Things improved and everyone was all the better for it.

➵ And Toru made sure to, not only apologize to Iwaizumi, but gift him a voucher for a free movie for him and his omega (who was having a hard time as well).

➵Things were looking up and you both were sure to keep it that way!

___

“Kentaro, please don’t hurt Kindaichi!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as you tried to stop the alphas from snapping on each other.

It wasn’t that Kyoutani didn’t like or respect you, because he did-- you were like a second mom, but Kindaichi just got on every single one of his nerves. And then tried dragging you into it! Like, the audacity of this bitch.

“Kyoutani!” Your alpha’s bark had both the blond and raven pausing, a careful glance making both back down as Oikawa heading towards you guys (Throwing a pile of confession letters into the trash on his way by without even looking; some point they would get the hint if he left the blatantly in the open).

The blond growled lowly, sending you a quick glance before returning to practice. Oikawa let him, turning his glare to the instigator of the whole thing. The onion-headed pup hid behind your smaller frame, making your laugh.

It was almost like that moment when dad’s pulled out their ‘behave or else’ voice. And in a way it was.

“One of these days my pretty dove won’t be there to save you, Kindaichi.”

“I know.”

You and Oikawa sent a look to each before you laughed, moving so Oikawa and Kindaichi could have a ‘man to man’ talk.

The pack was dysfunctional, and you almost let it go.

You were thankful you didn’t and still had this family to come back home too. All thanks to your alpha.

“STOP MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT YOUR OMEGA SHITTY-KAWA.”

“I can’t help it, Iwa- IWA STOP HITTING ME- Y/N HELP-”

You shook your head laughing, jogging to save said alpha.

He was childish and arrogant, and sometimes got too far up his own ass, but he was yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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hnderyx · 3 years

Note

Hello, I was wondering if i could request either wayv or NCT reaction to you showing them/ them seeing a scar you got when you were younger and telling them how you got it. Example like you show them/ they see a scar on your chin from when you fell off your bike when you were little. Thank you❤

NCT Dream’s Reaction to Seeing Your Childhood Scar (FLUFF)!

This is so cute ;-; I will be doing a WayV version of this in a bit. Hope you look forward to it.

WARNINGS: This post mentions scars. Please be aware if you're sensitive about the subject! Thank you :)

Mark:

New relationships start with endless dates, right?

Wanting to spend time with your new boyfriend 24/7...

He had invited you over to help him with the tiny garden plot he impulsively bought with the idea of growing some tomatoes or watermelon.

After rolling up your sleeves, you got to work ploughing the dirt.

But his touch on your arm caught your attention.

"What's this? I've never seen it before." Mark asked, brushing his thumb over the scar on your elbow.

"When I was younger I fell off my scooter and meat crayoned my elbow... Took quite the time to heal and I guess it never did heal properly."

"Woah... Did it hurt? I mean- yeah, of course it did but like... It's kinda badass. You should show it off more often."

"I don't know, Mark. I've always thought it was a bit ugly... And the story about it is a bit embarrassing."

"It's cool! You could always tell people that you were fighting some ancient samurai or something. I don't know... I like it. A lot."

Renjun:

Is it bad that I just wanna hold his hand? Like damn he so cute on his little watermelon slice.

Cuddling with your new boyfriend always brought warmth into your heart.

How he'd brush his thumb over your knuckles and place his head into the crook of your neck...

It was probably one of the most relaxing feelings in the world.

But you hadn't noticed your shirt riding up your stomach, exposing the scar you had gotten from your appendix removal years ago.

"Hm..? You never told me you had gotten surgery, y/n..." Renjun mumbled into your neck.

"Y-Yeah... When I was fourteen my appendix burst. I had to get it removed pretty quick..."

"I'm sorry. Must have been quite painful, huh?"

You nodded, blushing as you felt his touch on the scar.

Noticing your catch in breath as his fingers met your skin- he stopped, pulling your shirt back over the marking.

"It's alright, I'll be here to take care of you now. Please don't be shy about it..."

Jeno:

You've grown quite close with your boyfriend within the few months you've been together.

You've noticed how he looks at the scar covering almost the entirety of your right knee.

He's never brought himself to ask about it, though.

Until now, sitting under a tree in the park.

Your dress had slipped up past your knee, revealing the scar you're quite embarrassed about.

"I've been meaning to ask you, y/n... Where did you get the scar? What happened?" He asked.

"When I was about 10 my family and I went camping... As I was walking beside the newly extinguished fire, I tripped over something and fell knee first into the red-hot wood. I... I really dislike it. It's hideous and I've always wished it never happened."

"I see..." he presses a soft kiss against the side of your knee, "personally, I think it's beautiful. You can't change the fact that you have it. I'll help you see it from my perspective."

Haechan:

Moments where you and Donghyuck had time to just sit, hold hands, and bask in each others presence was such a rewarding thing.

Being a bit new in a relationship, he just wanted to be all over you.

He pressed his hand against yours to compare the size.

"Look at how much bigger my hand is than yours! You're so cute!"

He removes his hand and his eyes lay on the small scar in the palm of yours.

"What's that?"

"Oh, uhm... When I was young, I tripped and fell on a glass Coke bottle... A shard went into my palm."

"Huh," he gently brushes his fingers over the scar, "you went into surgery to get it fixed?"

"Yeah, they had to take skin from elsewhere on my body to replace the skin I had lost."

"You're so brave, huh? But I guess I'll have to keep an eye out for you. I don't want something like this to happen to you again..."

Jaemin:

Having Jaemin as your boyfriend is... A lot of work.

The man is all over you.

You give him the opportunity to initiate skinship and he WILL.

Sitting at your computer, working on whatever needed to be done

Your boyfriend is all over you-

"Look at my precious little y/n doing all his/her workies~! Such a smart man/woman~! I love you so much, eheheh~"

"I love you too, Jaemin... But I really need to get this done. It's due tomorrow, hun."

He scans the side profile of your face with excitement before stopping, pointing at the scar on your chin.

"I never noticed this..."

"You never noticed a scar on my face... After 4 months of being together?" "No," he traces his finger over the mark, "where did you get it?"

You sighed and turned away from your computer to face him.

"When I was about... Nine, I was running through a forest with my friends and my chin got caught by a tree branch."

He stared at you for a moment, nibbling softly at his bottom lip.

"That must've hurt... But I think it's kinda sexy~ I like it."

Chenle:

Messing around with Chenle is a regular occurance in your relationship.

And I mean, play fighting with each other, wrestling, etc.

So when he's on top of you, pinning you down in a fit of giggles.

He notices the small mark underneath your eye.

"Where'd you get your battle scar, Almighty y/n?"

He continued to loom over your body, staring into your eyes.

"In kindergarten, some asshole kid decided it'd be alright to stab near my eye with a broken cup."

"Haha, that's kind of a stupid way to get a scar, isn't it?"

He got off of you, scooching a bit back before you lean up to playfully swat at his arm.

"Hey! I was five! It's not like I could control the other kid's dumbassery!"

"It was your dumbassery for even being by a kid that'd think like that. No five year old thinks about stabbing another kid with a broken cup."

"Can't you just say 'oh wow, y/n. that's wild' or something instead of roasting me for being in the radius of the cup kid?"

"Nah... It's more entertaining to tease you for it. You know I adore you, y/n."

Jisung:

You and Jisung are kind of a chill couple.

And by that I mean, you two spend time together by just vibing next to each other... Typically on your phones or something.

So when he finally notices the VERY noticeable scar on your arm, he kind of thinks 'why haven't I noticed this before?'

"Where did you... Get that?"

"Hm? Oh," your gaze follows from his pointed finger down to the scar, "I absolutely obliterated my arm when I was younger... They needed to go in and add a metal plate to hold the bone together... Or something."

"So... If you think about it, you're a cyborg."

"I'm not a cyborg. I think cyborgs need a bit more... Robotic stuff."

"Nah if you have any metal inside you, I think that makes you a cyborg. That's kinda cool, y/n. You're a badass cyborg with a scar."

He lightly taps the scar with his finger, tracing along the discolored line.

"I'm dating a cyborg... Ugh, that's really cool."

#nct dream #nct reactions #nct #nct dream reactions #nct scenarios #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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curlynerd · 3 years

Text

Just Say It

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

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

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, and Sammy?”

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

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What could go wrong?

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

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

They ran.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

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

“Dean!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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annie-mit-ie · 3 years

Text

Glimpses: Part 5 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 / previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: Just a random Morning.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I’m sorry this is rather short once again, but the middle of the week is usually my busiest time with uni and work and all. @zafirosreverie keeps saying that you guys are most likely happy about every single word posted, so I hope nobody actually minds if some chapters turn out to be a little shorter than others. Besides that: Enjoy! Hope everyone is having a great day!

_____________________________________________________________________________

It’s been four days since you’ve left the hotel. That’s four days in which you haven’t heard from Kathryn. It drives you crazy and gets to you more than you want to admit. You’ve talked to Alex about it and the both of you agreed that she must be very busy right now because there is no reason for her to ghost you. Or is there?

You have to listen to Alex more. She always preaches how worrying doesn’t make any sense. “Worrying only means that you suffer twice, Sweetheart.“, she says and sometimes you feel like that’s the smartest thing someone has ever told you.

It’s time to pace up and down in your room, again. Your phone has become you biggest enemy and you know it’s childish, you really know, but you just wanted all of this to mean something to her, too, and the realization setting in that it doesn't just doesn’t sit right with you. Looking at the clock on the wall, you realize it’s just past 11 and your mom should be back from her shopping spree any minute. You stayed home, even though you had your day off today. But considering your current worries, you just didn't feel like leaving the house.

The problem about all of this is that your dear Kathryn Hahn doesn’t have social media, which is why you have no clue what’s happening in her life right now, at all. But then again, there is not much happening lately, anyway, so how much could there be to tell you? Wandavision just aired and she had lots of press to do, which is now finally calming down again. Good for her.

Your life is boring, too. In between university and work, you’ve got time for an occasional movie night with Alex over Facetime here and there, but other than that everything is going kinda slow right now. On second thought, though, how boring can life be when you literally just met your favorite actress? Ironic, that you’ve met her before you’ve met Alex. Online friendships are wild.

A noise right outside of your window grabs your attention and you move your blinds to check on it. It’s a beautiful summer day, the sky is blue, the bluest kind and the clouds up there are so tiny and fluffy, it reminds you of little pieces of cotton candy. You keep your blinds closed all day in summer since it gets pretty hot in LA and, coming from upstate, you don’t enjoy that as much as the locals. Looking straight down in front of your house, you see your mom, who is just arriving home, about to unpack groceries from the back of her car. Tossing your phone onto your bed, you run downstairs to lend her a helping hand.

Your mom, a sweet lady with dark hair and loving eyes, is very thankful as you appear at the front door and plants a short kiss on your temple before handing her bags to you. “Thank you, dear.“ You smile. It has always been just your mom and you and the relationship you guys were having is great. Even though you don’t agree on everything, life with her is easy and you feel at peace knowing she is around. In a way, your mom is your best friend, too.

When you came out to her, just a while back, she wasn’t shocked or anything, no, quite the opposite actually. After you told her all about it, it felt like she was loving you just a tad bit more for truly being you. She actually supports you in everything you do. Thinking about that, you squint your eyes trying not to cry, since it is still making you very emotional.

You place the bags on the counter and help her sort through them to put the groceries away. “Thank you so much, Y/N.“

She walks past you and shortly places her hand on your forearm as she puts her bag down on a kitchen chair.

Your home is more than big enough for the both of you. The ground floor is pretty much an open space with a beautiful white marble-colored kitchen that leads into a living room that is characterized by a large mint green couch, a little darker than the mint green color that fills the walls. There is a small electronic fire place in the corner and a rather big tv is hanging on the wall. Scanning the place, your heart fills with warmth as you remember the endless hours you have spent with your mom sitting on that very couch, watching classics after classics. Movies really are your kind of thing.

Your mom sees the way you look at the space. “It’s time for another movie night soon, isn’t it, Hon?“ You nod eagerly and wrap her in a big hug.

“Yes Mom! Let’s watch something on Friday, I would love that! Your choice of movie!“ You're beaming.

Lately, with all the work and school stuff you have going on and the time you spend online, you feel like you are losing touch with your mom a little, even though you try to eat dinner with her every single night.

Looking at your mom, you can tell how happy it makes her that you're actively making time for her. She looks at you a little too long, though. You can tell she is trying to read you by the way her eyebrow is raised, just a little, and the fact that she is holding on to the kitchen counter with one hand has her knuckles turn a little too white. Neither of you says anything as if she is waiting for you to come forward. You don’t. She sighs.

“Are you alright, Honey?“ You mom lets go of the counter and faces you directly.

For a moment, you think about if you should tell her. But tell her what? About how you have met Kathryn and, essentially, spent a night with her? You can’t. After all, Kathryn is still a stranger and she would be so mad if she knew. But at the same time your mom and you share anything and everything, so you might very well just go for it.

You consider your options, but the fact that Kathryn hasn’t contacted you yet holds you back. If it was a one time thing, she really doesn’t need to know and worry about it all. You don’t want her to worry. You opt for the option not to spill and shoot her a forced smile “It’s fine, Mom. I’m just tired and missing Alex. That’s all. As always.“

She nods and you can tell that she doesn’t fully believe you by the look she has on her face. Her eyes give away so much, you got this from her. Hiding things from other people really isn’t your best trait. But then again, you don’t want it to be. Honesty is very important to you, always has been, which is why your friendship with Alex works so well, because she is an open book ready for you to read at any given moment.

You remember the time and the fact that Alex is probably on her way to bed right now. She didn’t have the best day and you want to talk to her, just for a few minutes, before she drifts off to sleep. You tell your mom and, of course, she completely understands and tells you to just be back downstairs in an hour latest to have lunch with her. Planting a short kiss on her cheek, you grab a drink from the counter and make your way upstairs, already trying to remember where you put your phone.

It’s easier to find than you expect. When you open the door, the room is still set in darkness, the sun just barely finding its way through the blinds, but the phone, lit up by a notification that’s just coming in, illuminates the space around your bed.

Thinking it must be Alex, who is shooting her daily after-work-update your way, you jump onto your bed, kicking down half of the pillows and blankets on it in the process. You catch your favorite one, a light colored fall blanket with orange pumpkins on it, right before it touches the floor. Thank God, you think, as you pile it under your chin to use it as a pillow while you reach for your phone.

Alex had indeed texted you, but not just now. The notification lighting up your phone consisted of a picture. A platter with nicely decorated breakfast on it is looking at you, a pool (on what looks like a roof top) in the background. The caption is short, nothing special, but to you it means the world.

„This made me think of you. xx K.“

#kathryn hahn #kathryn Hahn x Reader #Kathryn Hahn fan fiction #Kathryn Hahn x you #groupie #groupie au

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elliesguitarstrings · 3 years

Text

Silence (Part 4)

Masterlist//Series Masterlist

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way… at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: This is the second to last part I think! I was gonna do just one more long part but I want to keep this series going for a little longer so I decided to split it into 2 more parts so this one is kinda short. Please keep sending requests bc I’ve really enjoyed writing them and I’m hopefully gonna post more of them soon <3

Warnings: language, little bit of angst

~~~~~~~~

It’s been three days since you last spoke to Peter. Three long, antagonizing days.

The fact that Peter kept ignoring you for MJ just pushed you to your breaking point. Plus, your chance with Peter is slim to none at this point, and it would just hurt more to stay so close to him knowing that he would never love you as much as you love him. Despite all the shitty things he’s done in the past few days, you still love Peter, which makes ignoring him all the more painful. But you had no other choice.

You hadn’t had a proper conversation with him since the dreadful events of your “friendiversary,” which for you and Peter was practically unheard of. You passed him in the halls of the compound and occasionally shot him a glance at team meetings, but other than that you ignored him completely.

Sitting on your bed, you pick up your phone.

14 New Messages from Peter

P: Y/N?

P: Y/N can we please talk

P: why are you ignoring me

P: what did i do wrong can we please talk

P: Y/N why won’t you respond

P: how long are you gonna ignore me for

You stop reading after the sixth text. He’s been texting you constantly, but you never respond. To be honest, you don’t actually know how long you plan on ignoring him for. Obviously, you have to hash it out at some point, but you don’t think that will be anytime soon. Well, at least you hope it won’t be anytime soon.

Suddenly, FRIDAY announces, “Miss. Stark, Mr. Stark has requested you in his lab.”

You sigh, “What for?”

“Official Avengers business, so I would hurry.”

That peaks your interest, so you quickly leave your room and jog downstairs to your dad’s lab. You scan your fingerprint on the keypad, and the glass doors automatically side open, granting you access.

“Y/N, great, you’re here. I’ve got some big news,” your dad states.

“Really? What is it?” you ask excitedly.

“I’ve talked it over with the rest of the team, and we’ve all decided that you’re ready.”

“What!? Like ready to be an Avenger?” at this point, you’re practically shaking with excitement.

“Yes. You’ve had plenty of training, and we could use some extra help, so I’ve decided to make you an official part of the Avengers. Congrats honey.”

You rush to hug your dad, squeezing him tightly, “Thank you thank you thank you! You’re the best!” You pull away, “Does that mean I get to go on missions now?”

“Not just yet Y/N, you’ll just be starting off with patrol right now. I want to make sure you’re really ready.”

Normally, you would be opposed to this, begging him to let you go on a real mission, but at this point any excuse to get out of the compound and away from Peter was good enough for you.

“Okay! Can I go today?”

“Actually, that works out great! Peter has patrol in Queens tonight, so you can go with him. He can give you the lay of the land, tell you how stuff works and all,” he smirks.

“No, absolutely not,” you answer sternly, “I am not going with him.”

“Then I guess you won’t get to be part of the team.”

“WHAT? THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

“Y/N, now is not the time to be raising your voice at me. You can’t pick and choose who you fight with, just like you can’t pick and choose who you fight against. If you can’t figure out how to work out your stupid teenage problems, then I can’t have you on the team. I don’t want you jeopardizing a mission because you can’t work out a stupid problem with a boy.”

“But dad-“

“No buts. You either do your job or you’re not a part of the team. Understand?”

“Fine.” You storm out of the room, upset that yet another exciting thing is ruined by Peter.

As you hurry back to your room, you glare at Peter who is sitting on the couch watching TV. He starts to get up to talk to you, but is stopped by Nat, who follows you upstairs. Before you get the chance to slam your door shut, she catches it and slips into your room after you, shutting the door behind her.

“Okay, what’s going on with you and the kid?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on Y/N, it’s obviously not nothing. Everyone’s noticed that you’ve been ignoring him. Even Clint commented on it this morning, and he doesn’t give a shit about anything that goes around here.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I know you have feelings for him.”

Taken aback, you stutter, “W-what? No I don’t. You have no proof.”

“Oh please, I see the way you act with him, or well, how you used to act around him before you decided to start ignoring him for no reason.”

When you don’t respond, she sits down next to you on your bed. “Look Y/N, I know we’re not best friends, but you can talk to me. Just tell me what’s going on and maybe I can help. You can’t just keep your feelings bottled up like this. Trust me.”

“Fine,” you huff, “I do like him, but he doesn’t like me.”

“Is that why you haven’t been talking to him?”

“Sort of. But there’s more to it. He likes this girl from his school named MJ, and he’s been choosing her over me for a while now. And then the other day I had this whole day planned out for us because it was our one year anniversary of first meeting and becoming friends, and he invited MJ and one of his other friends to come with us,” tears start to roll down your cheeks, “And he spent the whole day with her, like he was purposefully avoiding me and rubbing it in my face that he doesn’t like me like that, that he’ll only see me as a friend.”

You scoot closer to Nat, and surprisingly, she pulls you into a short, but comforting hug. It actually means a lot to you, given that she’s not really the hugging type, and it makes you feel a but better knowing that she’s willing to comfort you.

“I’m sorry about that Y/N. It doesn’t seem like something Peter would do.”

“I know, which is why I’m even more pissed at him.”

Nat stares at the wall for a few seconds, seemingly deep in thought.

“I think you should tell him how you feel, tell him that you like him.” she states pointedly.

“What? Why would I do that?” you exclaim, taken aback.

She stands up off the bed and starts to walk out of the room, “Trust me. I have a hunch about it.”

She smirks and swiftly walks out the door, leaving you completely and utterly confused. For the time being, you decide to ignore it, ruling out the idea of confessing your feelings to a boy who doesn’t even like you, and who you are extremely mad at. That would be insane, right?

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: add yourself to my taglist here!

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All: @pxkajesus @hollanddolanfangirl @roseke @agentsofparker @lifeasjazzz @damnrancidchicken @loopyolivia @iwannabekilledtwice @rafehogwarts @non-eexistent @rosiexx8 @nearlydanger9 @realityisabitch07 @midgardassassins @jbreenr @cap-marvxl @ellesmythe @deepestcolorgiantopera @that-one-person @clandestine-nerd @nevertrustapanda16 @ohabbyoh @rxmanxff @bubbleskz @quinn-spn58 @baby-pogue @strangebouquetqueen @thatforgottenangel @pjmjams @tiredstudenttrinity @isabella-bby @i-will-take-care-of--you @hollandprkr @ladykxxx08

Peter Parker: @blizzardbabe @ifyouwereanybraveryoudbealioness

Series: @t-hollanderr @allycat449-blog @haley-talks-too-much

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

"different young (rebound) hunk on his arm every week…newton geiszler who?" CAN YOU WRITE THIS FIC PLEASE? Hermann as the new heartthrob of the science world, cheekbones that can cut glass, baby gay scientists everywhere using appalling math-related pick-up lines in an attempt to be the booty call of the week. Newton catches a glimpse of him at a fundraiser and the Precursors have to stop him from crying with lust.

so tragically I plotted a whole fic for this and then came back and realized this prompt involves PRU but I liked my idea too much so unfortunately I won’t be filling the PRU part 😔 but I DO love heartthrob hermann sooooooooo. this can be pre-PRU if you want to make it sad actually CW for drinking and mild allusion to not sfw stuff. when will these boys talk about their feelings?

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

Hermann doesn’t like going out to bars at the best of times, least of all after he’s had the sort of exceptionally long day he’s had today (fighting his way through airports and hotel lobbies, fielding interview questions, having not even a minute’s break from Newton), but even he will admit that the one Newton has dragged him along to tonight could be far worse. The sorts of bars Newton fancied throughout their stint at the Hong Kong Shatterdome tended to be far hipper, far more becoming for a man of his (and, admittedly, Hermann’s) age, and likely aimed at tourists: pounding music, dark rooms, neon lighting, overpriced drinks, an inability to navigate through throngs of dancing bodies without bumping into at least half a dozen people. For that reason Hermann’s blood practically ran cold earlier that evening when, fresh out of their latest television interview, Newton insisted that Hermann needed to unwind a little. That Newton would help him unwind a little.

Hermann was pleasantly surprised to find that though the music (a live band) is still loud, and drink prices are still inflated, at least he can see Newton, and at least the few people dancing are dancing far away from them. And, well, perhaps it’s made him more amenable to (mostly) matching Newton drink-for-drink, and to indulging him in knocking back not one, but two rounds of the most disgusting-looking pink shots of all time, and— “Look, dude,” Newton declares, tossing an arm around Hermann’s shoulder. He’s shouting and leaning in too-close to Hermann, not because he’s intoxicated, but rather to be heard over the band, which has launched into a rather enthusiastic cover of some song Hermann’s sure he’s heard blaring from Newton’s iTunes before. His stubble tickles the shell of Hermann’s ear. “Just say it with me. It’s that easy. R-e-t-i-r-e-m—”

“We are thirty-five,” Hermann says. “We can’t just—”

“We absolutely can,” Newton says. He nudges his cocktail glass into Hermann’s chest, sloshing a bit of hot pink Watermelon Crush on his neat button-up. Hermann stifles a sigh; the shirt is brand new, bought just that morning for the interview, and will already be needing a wash. And smelling like liquified hard candy for the rest of the evening. “You and me, lying on a beach somewhere, sleeping in until noon every day, learning how to—to fish, or paint, or whatever the hell we want—”

“Not a beach,” Hermann says immediately. “I’m bloody well sick of beaches. Oceans, lakes, bays—no more."

Indulging Newton’s ridiculous little fantasy, even for a moment, is a mistake: Newton’s face lights up in a grin, and he tucks his arm around Hermann’s shoulder to pull Hermann flush against him. Hermann’s barstool wobbles dangerously. “Okay, no beaches. Far away from any coastline. The mountains, then.” It’d be just their luck, Hermann thinks, if the next Breach reopened far away from the ocean, too. Like it followed them somehow. “Let’s move to Switzerland or something and buy a log cabin or a cave and become weird recluses. I’ll learn how to ski, and you can grow a beard, and we can buy all our furniture at Ikea—” He frowns. “Is Ikea from Switzerland? Sweden? I haven’t been since college.”

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to move anywhere with you in the first place,” Hermann says, “let alone retire to do so. What on earth makes you think I’d follow you to Switzerland? I’ve no interest whatsoever in Switzerland.”

“Uh, because we’re best friends?” Newton says. “Anyway, what else would you do?”

“Anything,” Hermann says. He begins to tick off all the possibilities on his fingers while Newton watches him, unimpressed. “I could stay in Hong Kong—I’m sure they’d appreciate help monitoring what remains of the Breach. Or I could move back to England and resume my old teaching post, if they’d have me.” Hermann knows they’d have him; they’ve already sent him at least a dozen emails practically begging him to accept tenure. “Or back to Germany, with my parents.”

“I could totally do all that, too,” Newton says. “Well—not the Germany thing. No offense, dude, but your parents kinda suck. I don’t think I want them as my roommates.”

Hermann decides not to mention that the odds are very high they would not want Newton as a roommate, either. He’s tempted to ask Newton if he meant what he said about them being best friends—for Hermann can’t recall the last time someone called him their best friend, if ever—but Newton’s arm is slipping from his shoulders, and Newton is pulling out his mobile phone and tapping away frantically at it. Hermann feels strangely bereft without his touch. “Okay,” Newton says, his eyes scanning the screen, “Ikea was founded in Sweden, but they moved headquarters in—”

“Excuse me?”

Hermann and Newton both startle, Newton nearly dropping his phone, and the bartender who’d interrupted them smiles apologetically. He’s holding a pint of what appears to be beer. “Sorry to bother you guys,” he says to them, “but this is from the young man over there in the pink shirt.”

At the sight of the drink Newton brightens and puffs out his chest visibly. Bloody perfect, Hermann thinks. Just want Newton needs—another boost to his ego. “No sweat,” Newton says. He tosses his mobile to the bar counter casually and reaches to accept the glass. “Please tell him I’m super flattered, but—”

“Actually, sir,” the bartender interrupts, and—to Hermann’s surprise—slides the glass away from Newton’s grasp and over to Hermann. Hermann takes it without a word, not quite daring to believe it. Down the bar, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the flash of a bright pink shirt, but he can’t quite make himself turn to acknowledge the mystery admirer. Is that rude of him? No one has ever sent him a drink before. He’s not quite sure of the etiquette. “It’s, um, not for you.”

Newton deflates like a popped balloon. A blush spreads across his cheeks, barely visible beneath his freckles, which have come out again in the spring sunlight now that they’re not spending all their time in the Shatterdome basement. Hermann likes the look of them; he thinks they’re sweet, and that if he traced his fingertip across them they’d make a pattern of some sort, like a constellation. Not that he ever would, of course. Newton would surely ridicule him. "Right, duh,” Newton says.

He waits until the bartender is gone to round on Hermann. “Dude!” he says, almost accusatory, “Fourth time this week!”

“It is not,” Hermann protests. It’s weak to his own ears: even he isn’t thick enough to miss the sudden influx of attention he’s gotten since their first television interview last month. Hermann was never exactly popular, never exactly the sort the drive people wild with lust or romantic longing, yet it seems as if he can’t go anywhere these days without turning a few heads (including mid-twentysomething heads, mortifyingly enough) and getting a few cellular numbers slipped into his hand. Yesterday, a young man on the metro asked Hermann if he might like to see a movie some time. The day before that, another man wearing a jean jacket full of enamel pins stepped up to Hermann in a Starbucks and asked him if he could call-cu-later. Last week, a starry-eyed college student stopped Hermann outside a hotel to ask him to sign his Calculus 3 textbook, excitedly telling Hermann he switched degrees to astrophysics not a few days prior after reading an interview with Hermann in a rather obscure pop science magazine, and had blushed when Hermann thanked him. Newton had laughed at that one, and advised the young man to give biology a shot instead. (Newton had gotten very cross when he was promptly ignored, and in referencing the incident later, rather bitterly called the student an annoying little punk.)

This is to say nothing, of course, of the multiple news articles (listicles, as Newton calls them) Newton has forced him to read about himself on something called Buzzfeed, which have apparently helped to cement Hermann’s fifteen minutes of fame. One was called Twelve Times Dr. Hermann Gottlieb Was A Fashion Icon and was accompanied with a rather embarrassing array of candid photos of Hermann. Newton has been particularly incensed over that one.

“It is,” Newton says. “At least third. You know, I think the worst part is that you’re not even getting laid. Dudes are throwing themselves at you left and right—”

“Am I meant to go home with any random stranger who shows me the briefest bit of attention?” Hermann snaps. “I like to think I have somewhat higher standards than that.” I’m not like you, he nearly adds, but decides that it might perhaps be too cruel, especially considering that Newton has not gotten a fraction of the attention Hermann has over the past month. He remembers what it used to be like in the Shatterdome, is all; Newton seemed to like anyone who would give him the time of day. Most of his romances didn’t fare well for that reason.

“I’m just saying you could, and you’re not,” Newton says.

Hermann taps his finger against the pint glass, watching bubbles release from the side and rise to the top. When he finally takes a sip, it makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s not usually much for drinking. “I don’t like IPAs,” he says.

“I’ll take it,” Newton says, and the corner of his mouth hitches up in a grin, “as long as your boyfriend won’t get offended.”

Considering that Newton has only just finished following up his two shots with a cocktail, Hermann questions the decision, but slides him the glass anyway. Newton starts on it at once. Hermann wonders if he’ll need to call them a rideshare back to their hotel tonight; he’s not sure he can manage guiding a intoxicated Newton through the streets of the city on foot, especially not after a day that’s been rather unkind on his hip. “Only I suppose I have trouble believing it,” Hermann admits.

“Believing what?” Newton says.

“That they’re genuinely interested,” Hermann says.

To Hermann’s surprise, Newton snorts. “Nah, dude. You’ve got—” He taps Hermann’s chest, and leaves his hand there. “—sex appeal. You’ve got the, like, soulful eyes, and the movie star eyelashes, and the cheekbones and—” He drags his fingertip along Hermann’s jaw, and Hermann masks his sharp flinch in a cough, hoping Newton can’t feel his face heating up. He doesn’t remember if Newton has ever touched his face before. It feels shockingly intimate. “People think it’s super hot.” He takes another sip of Hermann’s drink. "Plus, you’re so—like—uptight. It makes people wonder what you’re bottling up.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “Bottling up?”

“In a sexy way,” Newton clarifies.

He settles his hand back on Hermann’s chest. Hermann licks his lips. Has Newton wondered those sorts of things about him, too? “You’ve had—too much to drink,” he says.

“A little bit,” Newton agrees. “I’m right, though. I like this shirt, by the way, it’s a nice cut on you.” He toys with one of the shirt’s buttons, and when he speaks again it’s in a low voice that makes Hermann’s mouth feel strangely dry. Hermann has never heard it from him before. “Wanna go back to the hotel and rent a movie or something?”

He’s peering at Hermann through his eyelashes, smiling in an odd little way. How terribly close they are to each other, Hermann realizes. He can count every tiny scratch in Newton’s eyeglasses, every fleck of gold in his eyes, every freckle on his cheeks. He wonders if Newton really wants to rent a movie; he wonders what Newton would do if Hermann closed the inch between them, and... “I,” Hermann stammers, gaze fixed on Newton’s mouth (stained pinker from his drink), “er, yes, only—only I feel as if I ought to thank the gentleman who sent me—”

At once, Newton drops away from him. His face hardens. His smile hardens, too. “Oh, right. I forgot,” he says. He inclines his head down the bar. “Pink shirt, right?”

Hermann casts his eyes about, searching for the pink-shirted stranger. When he doesn’t immediately spot him, a small bubble of relief swells within him. Perhaps he left, perhaps he decided he’s not interested in Hermann after all, perhaps Hermann is free to go back to the hotel with Newton and watch a film and argue about retirement and… “Oh, there,” Newton says. A man catches Hermann’s eye and waves timidly. He’s wearing a pink button-up.

“Bugger,” Hermann mutters. His admirer is not unattractive—in fact, he’s the opposite, with curly hair and glasses even thicker than Newton’s—which Newton seems to notice, too. He claps Hermann on the shoulder, hard enough that Hermann sways with it.

“He’s totally cute,” Newton says, “and he’s totally into you. You gotta at least get his number.” He takes another large sip of Hermann’s drink. “Better yet, get yourself laid. You could use it.”

Hermann feels the oddest sense of whiplash. Just a minute prior, he was about to kiss Newton (and he was pretty sure Newton was going to kiss him back), and now Newton is practically throwing him at another man. Hermann does not want to get anyone’s phone number—he wants to fall asleep in his stiff hotel bed to some absolutely awful science-fiction movie Newton picks out. “Newton,” he says, “weren’t we going to—?”

“No biggie, we can do movie night tomorrow instead,” Newton says. He nudges Hermann’s calf with the toe of his boot, and holds out his cane to him. Hermann feels his heart begin to sink. “I won’t wait up for you. Just give me a heads up if he wants to go back to our place, and I’ll make sure to stay out longer.”

“I’m sure it’ll only take a moment,” Hermann says. He’ll make sure it only takes a moment.

“No biggie,” Newton repeats. He raises his glass to Hermann in a mock toast. “Good luck!”

When Hermann looks back over his shoulder, halfway to the man in the pink shirt, it’s to see Newton’s stool vacant, and the back of Newton’s leather jacket swishing out the bar doors.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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fairyhee · 3 years

Text

Chocolate eclairs (pt.1)

“Aren’t you a Valentine’s day hater, though?”

“Only because I don’t have a date and I’m bitter about it, but you can change that.”

🍫optional bias x reader (h/n means his name)

🍫enemies to lovers, kinda slow burn?, flirting (smut in pt.2)

🍫inspired by: 5sos-valentine

[I know Valentine’s Day has already passed but I got this idea while daydreaming a few days ago and I couldn’t help myself. And also maybe I love this made-up celebration a bit too much and I don’t want to accept it’s over. If you dislike cheesy stuff this might not be for you lmao]

When it comes to Valentine’s, people are always either hardcore fans or hardcore haters. While you were definitely part of the first category, you just couldn’t understand how anyone can dislike a celebration that’s meant to spread love. And also, the pretty lingerie, the sweets, the champagne and the sex, hello?? You would have them any day of the year if you could. And if you had someone to celebrate with, in the first place.

As for people in the other category, they could hate it all they want but in your eyes they were probably just painfully single. Not that you weren’t, but you never wanted to let that spoil the fun. So what if you were single? What one can do with a partner, you could very well do on your own. So every year you made plans to do everything you wanted, but on a solo date instead of with somebody else. Love yourself first, right?

So on the morning of february 14th, after you were done with your self-pampering ritual, you stepped out for coffee and pancakes. The plan was that after breakfast, you would stop by the lingerie store and treat yourself to a nice set, then buy some sweets from the french bakery, then go home and get all dolled up for the evening, when you had reserved a table at a pink-themed restaurant, beautifully situated on the top floor of one of the highest buildings in your town. It was definitely among the most popular spots for that day, but you couldn’t care less that you were going by yourself. You could have gone with one of your girl friends, if they weren’t all already taken and spending the day “watching netflix”.

Thinking about the peaceful day that was ahead of you, you had almost reached your first destination. Your favorite cafe held an event today and served red pancakes with chocolate hearts as a special menu, as well as v-day themed coffee cups that you couldn’t wait to take photos of. As you entered the cafe, you spotted a familiar silhouette by the counter. He didn’t have to turn around for you to confirm it was him, because as soon as you heard him order his ice americano, your perfect day was already ruined. It was h/n.

Instead of saying hi, you groaned as you approached the counter. “Who drinks iced coffee in february? You have serious issues.”

He turned around, seemingly suprised to see you at first, but he quickly got to back to his usual self. “Only cool people can drink iced coffee, you wouldn’t understand. And also, a ‘good morning’ would have been enough.”

“It was good until I saw you, so now I can’t say that anymore, can I?” you said while scanning the menu. “One rose lemonade and the special strawberry pancakes with fresh cream, please.”

From where he was standing, you heard a dramatic gasp. “How can you tell me I have issues when you ingest so much sugar from this early in the day? If this is what you have for breakfast, what the hell are you having for dinner?” You wanted to slap that overly exaggerated shocked expression off his face.

“None of your fucking business. Now if you don’t mind I’m gonna walk to my table and go on with my day. If I spend another minute with you I’m afraid it might turn bitter and cold, like you and your beloved americano.”

You were beyond irritated that you had to put up with his shit today, too. You had met h/n at a party during university because of a mutual friend, and you immediately found out you had absolutely nothing in common, except both wanting to excel in your field and to be right at all times. Both of you had strong opinions and just wouldn’t back down. Every time you met, your personalities clashed, and the useless arguments and snarky remarks wouldn’t stop coming. It certainly didn’t help that he was so handsome and so good at what he did (he was a singer in a band) and that everyone else always complimented and admired him, because that made his ego grow and everything just annoyed you even more. Handsome boys always had to be over-confident and you hated that with a passion. The worst part was that he had every right to be confident, but you would never admit that. You weren’t sure what his opinion was of you but you didn’t care to know.

While you were sat at your table, scrolling through your phone and trying to block the previous conversation from re-entering your mind, he just casually sat down across from you at the table, putting down not one, but two iced americanos.

For a few seconds you stared at him blankly. “Can I know what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m gonna try to convince you that americano is the best coffee.”

“Ha, nice try. What makes you think I would even try it? It’s way too cold outside to drink. Haven’t I told you I don’t want bitterness in my life?”

He smirked. “I asked the barista to put 3 pumps of sugar syrup in it so it can be at least remotely drinkable for you. You will also need someone to watch over you, since I expect you to have a heart attack from all the sweetness, so, before you ask me to, no, I don’t want to leave your drink here and fuck off. So since you’ll be stuck with me until you finish your breakfast, tell me, what have I done to make you dislike me so much?” he placed his chin on his left hand and took a sip of his americano. “I’m curious.” rather than annoyed with you, he looked rather playful.

“Wow, you seem to be having a lot of fun interrupting my day. Glad at least one of us is having a good time. If you want me to touch that drink, you better take out at least half of that amount of ice cubes. After that, we can talk.”

You didn’t expect him to actually do what you said, but he stood up without a word and slowly walked to the counter to ask the barista to fix it. He was so tall, that the strings of the heart shaped helium balloons that were floating around the ceiling reached his eyes, so he walked around the cafe shielding his face with his hand. Why did you find that cute all of a sudden? It’s like you had just realized that his height was very attractive to you. When he turned around, you were smiling at him.

He gave you a wide-eyed look while he was placing your drink down for the second time. “Now you’re smiling at me? Did the sugar from those pancakes get to your brain already?”

“It’s just kinda funny seeing you between all those heart-shaped pink balloons after our last argument.” He had argued that all these holidays, like Halloween, V-day, Mother’s day and so on are made up for purely capitalist purposes and people who celebrate just feed into the consumerism. Besides, his social media posts had appeared on your feed the other day, because he had shared a bunch of memes poking fun at the cheesy traditions. “So what are you doing here today anyway, I thought you were a Valentine’s day hater?”

“Only because I don’t have a date and I’m bitter about it, like you said. But you can change that.”

You quickly looked up from your plate to check for any sign that he’s joking, but he definitely wasn’t laughing. His eyebrow was cocked up and an annoying smirk was planted on his face. He looked so hot, it was absurd.

His proposal, combined with your own thoughts, made you burst into laughter. You were annoyed at the fact that you were considering it. “Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself? Of course I can change that, but do you really think I will?” you asked ironically. You took a sip of the iced americano, hoping it would cool down your brain and help you think straight again.

He smiled. “I don’t know, but the fact that I just made you laugh is a good sign. Also,” he said pointing at the coffee, “you just drank that and didn’t complain. You just accepted my drink and I got you convinced it’s not bad, both at the same time. That’s three wins in a row for me.”

Shit, he was right.

“I love it when you talk back to me, so I’m almost feeling sorry I left you without any comeback to that.”, he laughed. “So what other plans do you have today? What else do I have to try to ruin?”

“Oh, just a bunch of uninteresting things. I’m sure a self-proclaimed cool dude like yourself would be bored just hearing about it.” That was it. Your defense had fallen, you were actually starting to like him, but you still wouldn’t admit it, so now you were adamant to prove you were completely uninterested in him and he didn’t affect you even in the slightest. You were even willing to accept him tagging along when you went shopping if he wanted. Half because you wanted to spend more time with him without actually accepting his half-hearted date proposal, and half because you wanted him to think you don’t care even if he tries to bother you.

“Well, I don’t have anything better to do today. You asked me what I’m doing here, I actually simply came to get coffee. So do you mind if I come with you? Annoying you is more fun than doing nothing on a sunday.”

Perfect, you thought. You fake-rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You’ve already ruined my day, it can’t get worse no matter how much you’ll talk. Let’s go shopping, I know men are absolutely crazy over this activity, so let’s see how much fun you’ll have there.”

“Try me.” he said while finishing his drink.

You smiled and, having finished your breakfast, you stood up.“You might want to have another americano to-go, to keep you from getting tainted with my sweetness. Get up, we’re going to buy chocolate eclairs.”

...

part 2

#optional bias #optional bias scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #oneus scenarios #oneus imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #optional bias x reader #kpop fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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